Chapter Text
A crimson droplet trickles down the finger, smoothly turns at the knuckle, and falls to the ground, instantly absorbed by the earth. A nail picks at a green leaf, detaches it from the small burgundy strawberry, and tosses it into the compost bucket. The berry joins its companions in the basin, rolling down the slope, while a new one is plucked from the basket. A stray lock of hair is pushed away with a sigh. The wrist wipes the forehead, and the eyes blink rapidly. An ant crawls along the arm, brushed off indifferently.
"Putting your whole hearts into work, eh, lads?" Jisung approaches the bonfire, ceremoniously placing another basket on the stand. "Here's another batch."
"How many are there, f*ck’s sake?" Hyunjin groans, wrinkling his nose. "Have they cleared out all the forests on the continent?"
"Do you know how many berries we need for such a horde?" Minho scoffs, stirring the jam in the pot and wiping the sweat off his face with a cloth. "Jam for us, jam for your parents in the kingdom, jam to sell in the city."
"Hold the f*ck on," prince turns to Changbin sitting next to him, briskly cleaning strawberries, leaning over and resting his elbows on his knees. "Am I literally preparing taxes for myself right now?"
"We don't know which strawberries will go into the jam for your parents," Changbin smirks, moving his shoulder blades.
"Un-f*cking-believable."
Hyunjin shakes his head in dismay. The situation is certainly interesting. They've been sitting over the berries for an hour and a half, occasionally getting up to stretch. Even with the help of Yongbok and Chan, who settled on nearby benches, the process is moving at a snail's pace, and the strawberries just keep coming. Prince is not used to such tedious work and didn't even think about how much effort it takes to sort and clean berries. His fingers are all sticky, his back is starting to ache, and sweat is beading on his forehead.
"Where the hell did your crawl to?" Minho approaches Jisung, who has returned to his place to deal with more strawberries, and removes transparent threads from his head. "You're all covered in cobwebs."
"So, like, Youngho's coin fell out of his pocket and rolled under the table, you know, in that old storage where all sorts of sh*t lies. He couldn't be bothered to get it, but why would I miss out on free money? I crawled in and got it, now it's mine," Jisung proudly declares, patting his pocket.
"Fool."
Despite Minho's mocking tone, he curves the corner of his lip and turns away, returning to stirring the simmering jam. The guitarist, in turn, watches him with a satisfied smile, clearly enjoying the attention he's getting. Hyunjin silently observes them, exhaling quietly at how obvious their mutual interest is. Jisung thinks he’s like a younger brother to Minho, but prince knows very well how younger brothers are treated, and it's quite different. It's none of his business, of course; it just seems to him that they would be happier without these uncertainties hanging between them.
A couple of berries sneak into the mouth unnoticed when the cook turns away to pluck mint leaves, which he intends to add to the jam. The work continues under the crunch of vertebrae and other bones, forced to assume various positions in an attempt to ease the strain on the aching back. After a quarter of an hour, sighs start emanating from the neighboring bench.
"I'd rather be off chasing boars, I swear to f*cking God," Chan makes a circle with his neck, then wearily rests his head on Yongbok's shoulder. "Oh? Did you wash your hair today? Is that the new shampoo?"
"Yeah, got covered in some resin from the logs when I was insulating the sauna," Yongbok nods and looks at his charcoal locks. "Seems okay though, feels softer."
Chan stands up and buries his nose in Yongbok's hair. Taking a deep breath, he then pokes at the strands a couple of times with the tip of his nose and rubs his cheek against them.
"You smell deliciously of blackberries. We should buy more."
"Why are you pressing your sweaty face against my clean hair?" Yongbok laughs and playfully shoves him, to which Chan wraps his arms around him and squeezes tighter.
"Oh, so now you're being squeamish cause of me, huh? Just wait until I rub against you and smell delicious too."
They play around, laughing and shoving each other. Hyunjin slightly furrows his brows, observing them and sensing some unusual feelings. Intuition catches glimpses of something special in how they touch each other.
"Have you guys got something going on or what?"
In the end, prince decides to ask a straightforward question to resolve the confusing situation. Judging by how openly they interact, it's not like it's some big secret. However, he certainly didn't expect that a couple of seconds after his words laughter would ring all over the bonfire area, coming from all the men at once. Even Minho chuckles under his breath, arching the corner of his lips and giving him a mocking look over his shoulder.
"What? Why are you all laughing?" Hyunjin doesn’t understand the reason, blinking his eyes in confusion.
"We've been married for three years," Chan shows the ring on his left hand.
"Huh? What?!"
The strawberry slips from his fingers, rolling on the ground and disappearing behind the rows of benches. Prince widens his eyes so much it hurts. He turns his head, looking at each present one by one, silently opens his mouth, closes it, and then blinks.
"You're married? But how... and why nobody told me?"
"Well, you never asked," Yongbok continues to chuckle cheerfully, examining the ring on his finger. "I just never really thought about specifically telling you."
"What do you mean you never thought about it?" Hyunjin raises his hands, still trying to digest such sudden information. "But this is... No, I noticed that you're always together, but I never thought you were husbands. It's like... You don't act all lovey-dovey or anything."
"Well, you guys are husbands too and you don't act lovey-dovey," Chan points out.
"We have a completely different dynamic. And anyway," prince shifts his gaze to Changbin, "Why the hell didn't you tell me anything? They're married, and I had no idea."
"Well, how was I supposed to know you didn't know?" the spouse exhales being thoroughly entertained. "You guys are always hanging out together, I thought you knew."
"Holy sh*t," Hyunjin sighs, leaning back on the bench. "That's some real freaking news, and nobody even told me, you assholes."
"Who's to blame that Your Highness is such a slowpoke?" Minho smirks mockingly.
"You're definitely not the one to talk to me about being slow."
"What?"
"Nothing."
With a sigh, prince dips his hand into the bucket of water to wash off the dried juice. When there's too much of it, the skin starts to feel unpleasantly gritty, so they all brought some water to rinse off occasionally. His gaze shifts to the cook. Now, it's definitely too ironic to hear about being slow from him. Minho isn't picking on him as much anymore, but he still takes any chance to throw a jibe. Just because he behaves like that with everyone who isn't Jisung.
In his mental archive, memories are shuffled through. Hyunjin did notice that Yongbok and Chan have very warm interactions, often wandering together to different places in search of new interesting goods and trading spots. Nevertheless, they didn't behave too intrusively and didn't discuss anything that would suggest to him that they had something serious going on. He simply didn't pay any attention to the rings. The local cook's relationship with the musician was much more noticeable than a full-fledged married couple.
The eyes watch Jisung fussing with the berries, then slide to Minho's back and move on to the spouses. There's a thought swirling in the head, one that's hard to grasp and articulate right away. With the new information, there's a desire to do something, to somehow use it in a constructive way. Something to push the other two men, who are mostly just wandering around aimlessly, drilling everyone's brains with their inaction.
"Well, yeah, I guess," Hyunjin finally starts after a couple of minutes, tossing out one potential idea. "It's strange that I didn't figure it out earlier, Chan basically carries Yongbok around in his arms."
He looks pointedly at Changbin, then at the married couple. His gaze shifts to Jisung and Minho, eyebrows arching meaningfully. Hyunjin winks, trying to convey his thought that they should steer this toward something else.
"You're exaggerating," Changbin says after a moment, squinting slightly and studying his face to make sure he understood correctly. "Chan is quite big, but I doubt he's strong enough to carry another man in his arms, he's kind of a weakling actually."
"Maybe you just can't handle Hyunjin and you're feeling humiliated?" Chan, initially looking bewildered, widens his eyes in realization and immediately joins in. "You ain’t a boy anymore, after all."
"Let's test it out."
Pushing aside the bucket with the cleaned strawberries, the clan leader stands up. His hands splash into the bucket, rinsing off the juice. Turning away from the counter, he looks questioningly into Hyunjin's eyes, and prince briefly nods, confirming that everything is going as planned. The second married couple also exchange glances, silently communicating and cleaning their hands.
"Grab onto my neck."
Changbin puts his left hand on Hyunjin's shoulders and lifts him under the knees with his right, effortlessly picking him up. Prince puts his hand on Changbin's shoulder, the palm of his other hand resting at the base of his neck. For the sake of his plan, he can endure it. Although it's not unpleasant to him. On the contrary. On some subconscious level, he realizes that he's in a secure position.
"Satisfied, hyenas?"
In turn, Chan also effortlessly lifts Yongbok with his arms. The latter leans his head on Chan's shoulder and affectionately pats his chest. In reality, no one doubted Chan's physical strength. He's almost as sturdy as Changbin in physique and often carries heavy loads around the village, easily hoisting barrels filled with hefty goods onto his shoulders. However, it's necessary to push this line further to play on pride and ardor.
"Of course, Yongbok is such a lightweight," Hyunjin snorts. "Just holding him, even Seungmin could do it. But what if you try sitting down?"
"Piece of cake," Chan bends his knees, squatting several times. "And you two?"
"I can do a hundred times," Changbin eagerly echoes him, continuing to hold onto his husband firmly.
"Don't you people have sh*t to do?" Minho finally throws them a disdainful glance. "Are you five-year-olds comparing your pickle sizes?"
"Keep stirring your broths over there, you're only good at lugging pots around," prince says, looking at him with feigned provocative condescension.
"Yeah, he’s definitely trying to veer off-topic," Yongbok chimes in, playing along.
"You haven't had plates thrown at you lately?"
"For sure, you're veering off-topic."
For a while, all that can be heard at the bonfire is the bubbling of the jam on the fire. Minho's ink-black eyes narrow. He wipes his hands on a rag and tosses it to the counter.
"Come here."
"Huh?" Jisung blinks, looking at the approaching man.
"Wash your hands and come here. These wimps don't know who they're dealing with."
The cook rolls up the sleeves of his spacious graphite-colored shirt, tucked into wide black pants, his boots gleaming. The ribbons of his apron, stained with spots, tied around his waist, tighten. The married couples exchange satisfied glances. One definite plus of these fiery and proud individuals is that they can easily be drawn into a bet regarding what needs to be achieved. Just hint that someone is doing something better than them, and they're ready to prove otherwise.
"Uh... is this better? Like this? Oh!"
Perplexed, Jisung shakes off the droplets from his hands and somewhat bewilderedly tries to figure out how to stand and what to do next. However, Minho wastes no time on words and effortlessly lifts him up, then adjusting his position in his arms for more comfort. The musician rounds his eyes and wraps his arms around Minho's neck, holding on tight.
"The f*ck you were saying, you sissies?" Minho takes a few steps in place and then quickly squats several times almost to the ground.
"There's still salt in the shaker," Changbin chuckles encouragingly.
"I got enough of this salt to pickle all of you and then serve you as a snack with drinks if you keep badgering me with your stupid children games."
"Wow. Ain’t you something?" Jisung whistles, poking Minho's tense biceps.
"What, did you think I couldn't lift you? You think I'm weak?" Minho arches his eyebrows in indignation.
"No, of course not."
"Then why the surprised tone?"
"Well... just..."
"Just? Huh? Forgot who you're dealing with, you little squirrel?"
Swiftly shifting his weight, Minho starts spinning. Continuing to firmly hold onto Jisung, he spins in place, making his hair fly. The musician grips the shirt on his shoulder and lauhs at this sudden amusem*nt. Of course, nobody seriously scolded him. Minho twirls him around, looking at his happy, almost glowing face with an unusually warm smile. The ribbons of the apron flutter in the wind. It seems that for these few seconds, they retreat into their own world, completely forgetting about how it all started and that there are other people around them. Those who watch with evident satisfaction the fruits of their labor. Hyunjin had already raised the topic of the relationship between these two and knew that he wasn't the only one who saw something special in it.
Either way, after a couple of minutes, the members of the Miroh clan return to work. A small distraction helps to lighten up a bit, but the tedious sorting and plucking of small strawberries still tires with its monotony. It takes another hour to deal with all the baskets, after which Hyunjin trudges home, washes up, and collapses onto his bed, exhaling so loudly and deeply that his prince title literally shatters into pieces. Princes don't behave like this, but now he couldn't care less. His back aches, his fingers hurt, with microscopic burning wounds appearing under his nails, the skin turning a pinkish hue. He's tired and deserves at least a little whimpering in his own pleasure.
The pleats of his skirt unfold. Hyunjin lies on his back, inexplicably smoothing them out, stretching the fabric to the sides and adjusting every crease. A pleasant breeze comes through the window, the overgrown apple tree scraping against the house wall. After ten minutes of rest and enjoying the horizontal surface, boredom starts to creep in. He doesn't like just lying around and staring at the ceiling. Sleeping doesn't appeal either, and he knows from experience that he'll wake up tousled and likely with a headache. And he doesn't feel like being active; his coccyx vehemently opposes dancing at the moment. Reading? He does nothing but read in his almost every free moment, if he's not practicing in the hall or hanging out at someone's place over a cup of tea.
His foot rises, tracing invisible lines in the air among the rings of planks on the ceiling. It's a pity there were no crosswords at the market. These things appeared in their kingdom quite recently, and Hyunjin enjoyed racking his brain over them. He's not exactly a nerd, but due to his position, certain knowledge has been drilled into his head. He knows something from history, as well as from culture, languages, geography, laws, and so on. So it was sometimes nice to strain his brain, fish something out of memory, and then proudly write the word into the boxes. However, such things are unlikely to arrive here anytime soon: it probably requires some special printing presses, - and who really needs it anyway?
Fingers toss a pin pulled from the hair. The silver sphere attached to it by a chain clangs loudly, hitting against the casing. He'll have to bring himself a pack of crosswords when they go to the kingdom. It'll give him something to do and keep his brain sharp. Maybe even some locals will be interested; after all, it's a way of educating oneself. The tip of the hairpin pokes his thigh several times. Out of idleness, the body tries to find some occupation.
"Oh?"
Hyunjin sits up abruptly in bed. The bubbling thoughts boiled so quickly and vigorously that his temples start to throb, and at first, he can't even understand why he got up. Widely opened eyes stare into the sunlit spot on the floor. Crosswords. What if he makes his own? Something small. Like, for himself, but since he knows the answers, it's not entirely for himself, but, for example, for the other guys. He can read out the questions after dinner. Maybe it'll be interesting? Like a quiz? His eyes light up, his gaze filled with lively awareness.
Feet press into the floor. Hyunjin jumps off the bed and almost rushes to the desk. The new idea and the found occupation have inspired him so much that enthusiasm bubbled and splashed, trying to spill over. A sheet of paper is taken from the stack. The pencil tip is chewed on. But how to make crosswords? This moment slightly puzzles him. Prince ponders, trying to figure out the most optimal sequence of steps for creation. Probably better to come up with some word first, and then arrange the others around it. Then he'll draw the grids, come up with questions, and transfer a clean version onto another sheet.
So which word to start with? Nails tap on the desktop. Hyunjin frowns, trying to come up with something longer. It should be something sophisticated; sophisticated words are usually long. His tongue clicks uncertainly. Although few in the clan probably know sophisticated words, those usually tossed about in high society circles for pomposity. Maybe... ‘Inadvertence’? Eyebrows rise. Prince tries the word on for size, counts the syllables, and then ponders how to clue it in the question section. A mistake or a blunder? Quite possibly.
The fountain pen taps against the inkwell. In the middle of the white sheet, proudly written from top to bottom, is the very first word of his very first crossword. Hyunjin gazes at it with satisfaction, as if he's just created a masterpiece. The main thing is that the beginning is made. To start is already half the job, it's the most difficult part. Once he comes up with twenty more words, then it'll be perfection. Excited hands rub together. Prince tucks one leg under him and gets to work.
It would seem that coming up with words is child's play. However, it takes more than half an hour to weave together the first word with twenty others. After all, it needs to be calculated so that the words intersect but don't clash, don't overlap. So when Hyunjin sketches out all the grids and starts laying them out on a clean sheet of paper with a ruler, he realizes that he made mistakes in two places, and there are mismatches in the slots. He has to rummage through his mind and come up with new words that are longer and fit properly by syllables with those already in place. After all, the Korean language is syllabic, and words need to be matched by syllables, not by letters. It's no wonder that these trendy crosswords were expensive even among the nobility; it turns out that creating them requires a decent amount of mental effort.
Leveling the grids, prince slowly and carefully traces the pencil lines with ink. He's so focused that he's surprised to notice his forehead starting to ache from how many wrinkles have formed there due to his tightly knit brows. After standing up and pacing around the room a bit to loosen up, he returns to the desk and starts numbering the lines. Then a new sheet is taken from the stack. There, questions for the words are written out, which takes even more time because it's quite challenging to come up with concise but meaningful formulations. Moreover, it's starting to get dark outside, so he has to light candles to avoid moving all this to the floor by the window, because in that position, his handwriting will be crooked.
Finally, after a total of three hours, the crossword is ready. Hyunjin holds the sheets in his outstretched hands and inexplicably examines them from a distance, as if they were truly some kind of paintings. He smiles, feeling proud of the work he's done. Perhaps the grid could have been made more even, but this is not bad either. It looks quite decent and even refined. Numerous days and evenings spent with spelling notebooks have borne fruit. He remembers how a strict teacher made him rewrite an entire page because of a single mistake. It may have been harsh, but it gave him a worthy, beautiful handwriting that is also perfectly legible.
Impatience and excitement arise. Hyunjin doesn't know how the other clan members will react to his idea. Perhaps he's already jumping too far ahead and inventing something unnecessary. He himself would be delighted with such a puzzle, but will it be interesting to anyone else around here? Once again, he orients himself towards his own interests and hobbies. However, the crossword is already made, and he won't know unless he tries. If it doesn't work out, then it doesn't, and he'll find something else to do. It's not the end of the world anyway.
The papers are neatly folded, tied with a ribbon, and tucked into the wide pocket of his shirt. It's almost dinner time; there won't be a long wait. Hyunjin looks in the mirror and adjusts his hair, inserting the hairpin back into the bun. Going somewhere without it feels like he's naked, some adornment must always be there, unless it's a journey to and from the bathhouse. People are slowly gathering around the bonfire. The air is filled with the appetizing scent of venison with vegetables, the ginger marinade slightly tingles the nose with its spiciness. Engrossed in his new task, prince hadn't realized how hungry he had become.
As he eats rice with meat in sauce, he continues to think about the papers in his pocket. His heart beats faster than usual, and anxieties occasionally make him fidget in his seat. Hyunjin waits until everyone finishes eating and moves on to the dessert: fluffy fried dough dipped in fresh jam made from mashed strawberries and sugar. Minho didn't cook it, he only prepared enough for one meal. Turning around and making sure that most of the men have finished their meal and are now sipping tea, prince rises from his seat with nervous excitement.
"Guys, I made something here. It's popular in the kingdom, and I thought maybe you'd like it too," Hyunjin takes the scroll out of his pocket, unfolds it, and displays the sheet with the grid. "It's a crossword. Have they appeared around here? Does anyone know what this is?"
The clan members squint, peering at the displayed paper and then exchanging puzzled glances. Changbin furrows his brows too, not understanding what his spouse has in mind.
"No, it's the first time I've heard of such a thing," Chan, sitting with Yongbok in the front row, speaks for everyone. "What is it?"
"Well, here are some words to guess. There are questions vertically and horizontally. The numbers here indicate where each word should go," prince peeks out from behind the sheet and points with his finger. "See? And the questions are written on this sheet. So you need to find the right answer to fit perfectly into the allotted space. And, of course, it shouldn't contradict another word. In terms of syllables, the ones they have in common should be the same."
"Wow."
"These are some puzzles, huh."
"You heard of such a thing?"
"Nope."
"Seems like something sophisticated and sh*t."
"Some kind of quiz, like a test or what? Like at school?"
Above the tables, there arises a light buzz of conversation. Men exchange remarks, someone shrugs, fingers point towards prince. He nervously runs his tongue along his lower lip and shakes himself, gathering his composure as if he were at one of the high-level events where he must not show any sign of lacking confidence.
"Let's try to start. I'll ask a question, and if anyone knows the answer, feel free to speak up. What are lemon, orange, and tangerine?"
Amidst the crackle of the fire, the chirping of crickets intertwines. Someone audibly sips from a mug. The men silently look at him, then at their neighbors. His stomach churns unpleasantly. Does nobody want to answer him?
"Fruit?" Jisung tentatively suggests.
"Close, but not quite," Hyunjin almost jumps when he finally gets a response. "The word 'fruit' takes up five boxes, but here we have six. Think again. Don't be afraid to make mistakes, try."
"Citrus," Changbin responds after a short pause.
"Yes," prince smiles relievedly in his direction and pencils in the necessary word at the very top of the grid. "Great, let's continue, shall we? What's a model or replica of a human being? In the second box, we have 'u'."
"Replica?"
"What being?"
"What did he say about the box?"
"Dummy," Chan snaps his fingers.
"Yes, that's correct," Hyunjin rejoices.
"Oh, I didn’t hear the questions was about Donghyuk" Youngho quips from the back row, earning a crumpled towel thrown at him.
"Alright, next question. What else can blue be called?"
Initially hesitant responses start to gain momentum. More voices chime in, men discuss options, a couple of times, some of them even engage in disputes, exchanging not the most flattering remarks. Hyunjin gains confidence and enthusiastically waves his hands back and forth, trying to pick out who exactly called out the correct answer. He is occasionally asked to repeat, to clarify the placement and the number of syllables, he approaches closer, standing between the rows. However, as more than half of the crossword is filled, opinions begin to diverge more strongly, someone asks for a repetition, someone demands the next question to fill in the gaps. Taeyoung stands up and approaches to take a closer look at the written questions and the syllables available, joining him are Chan, Jisung, and soon the stand where Hyunjin places the papers is surrounded by men.
"Move over, damn it, can't see a damn thing."
"You move yourself."
"Get your hand out of the way, I can’t see sh*t."
"Why are you turning it that way? It's not visible from this side."
"But I can't see like this."
"What are you gonna do now, huh, cry?"
"Hey, where do you think you're going, you asshole?"
"Guys," Hyunjin, who has been pushed back, tries to break through back to the crossword through the gathered crowd. "Don't tear it, please. Hey? Can you hear me? Don't scribble anything, leave it the w... Let me read it out instead. Can you make room, please?"
However, it's like they don't hear him. Youngho and Minhyun start arguing, the pencil falls and rolls on the ground. Clan members start jostling, a loud clamor erupts, and prince unsuccessfully tries to calm them down.
"Sit the f*ck down!"
A fist slamming on the table and a deep bass instantly silence dozens of voices. Men who were trying to get closer to the papers turn around, freezing. The deep eyes of the leader standing aside narrow menacingly.
"Why the hell are y’all pouncing on each other like a pack of wild dogs? Hyunjin created entertainment for you, and you don't even hear him. Quickly sit your asses down before I slap them with a belt if you can't behave. f*cking kindergarteners."
"But we can’t see it from there, where..."
"Am I not making myself clear?"
The metal in the unwavering voice is sufficient to quash all existing objections at once. Men, as if on command, turn around and march to their tables, refraining from displaying any dissatisfaction. After all, the penetrating gaze is sure to notice. While Changbin watches over them, Hyunjin, initially also taken aback by the commanding tone, finally approaches the counter and checks his papers. A corner of the sheet with the questions has torn off, some stains have appeared, and the pencil marks have smudged by fingers. He shakes them off and turns to face the audience. His spouse approaches him, studies the crossword and the questions, then takes a step forward.
"That's not how things are done. Why are you snatching everything from each other like children? One stands up, then the next, and off it goes. You were sitting just fine, giving answers. What the f*ck is this? You don’t get anything yourself, nor give it to others."
"It's just that it's not visible from here what's written in the boxes," Doyoung speaks up after a pause, flashing his rabbit-like eyes in the dim light. "I came closer to take a look. And when they started shouting, the questions couldn't be heard anymore."
"This one yells louder than anyone," Donghyuk points his finger at Youngho, who is picking his teeth with the point of a knife.
"Hey, I'm not the only one, you're barking at everyone louder than a hound."
"Yeah sure. You were the first to start pushing people around."
"Here we go," Changbin sighs, rolling his eyes.
"To be honest, it's difficult to keep the previous answers in mind and come up with new options," Yongbok adds. "You need to have them in front of your eyes. It would be fine if there were just questions, but if there's something complicated, you need to look at what answers you already have. How do you do that from your bench?"
"I can repeat if necessary, you just start shouting over each other," Hyunjin shakes the sheet. "I can't hear everyone."
"Okay, let's do this," the leader claps, attracting attention, and turns to his spouse. "Can you make three more of these?"
"Huh? Three of these crosswords?"
"Yes, with questions."
"Uh... yes, I can," prince frowns, not entirely understanding why such a sudden question.
"Then please do. And tomorrow I'll distribute them to everyone by rows," Changbin draws invisible lines along the tables with his hand. "You'll gather in small groups and solve them together again, so as not to fight over some pieces of paper."
"How do we check the answers though?" Chan fiddles with a handmade bracelet of colorful beads on his wrist.
"We'll read them out later, so you can check. Is everyone okay with that?"
The story with the crossword took an unexpected turn that Hyunjin clearly did not anticipate. He did not even suppose that there would be such interest. Nevertheless, the excitement over something new and some competitive spirit indeed arose. It's unlikely he could have calmed the men down if Changbin hadn't intervened. Later, on the way home, he questions him about how this idea came about, and, taking advantage of the privilege of living under the same roof, he himself goes through all the remaining questions. He remains satisfied and praises him for such an unusual initiative. In his opinion, it is indeed something useful and can help stir up the people's minds.
Inspired by the reaction received, prince labors over the desk surrounded by candles until midnight, diligently sketching out the crossword in three copies and then scripting the questions. The fingers on his right hand ache from the tension, ink stains appear on his skin, but Hyunjin feels absolute euphoria from this activity. The story with the crosswords doesn't end there. After receiving the copies and breaking into groups, some of the men catch him during the day around the settlement, trying to get some hints on particularly difficult questions; groups of puzzled residents can be seen around benches and in the windows of houses. The new activity has captivated not everyone, but most of the settlement. In the evening during dinner at the bonfire, Hyunjin announces the answers, igniting new heated debates. Some members of the clan begin to blame each other for not listening, which led to incorrect answers being entered, causing all other parts of the crossword to go awry. Complaints are heard that someone still tried to pocket the papers and didn't let others solve the crossword properly. Despite all this, the men eagerly demand more, they want to make up for it, and in general, this kind of puzzle has captured many with its novelty.
Inspired prince, not expecting that their enthusiasm would increase so much, is only glad. He racks his brains over the draft until night and decides to produce copies the next day. However, he is still concerned about the squabbling that begins to arise among the clan members because they cannot share the papers, and someone has to give way, while stronger men push their answers through, not listening to the others.
"In a good way, everyone should have their own copy, but it's physically impossible for you to write so much yourself," Changbin stands in the doorway of his room, leaning against the frame.
"That's what I'm saying. Even if we make a copy for two or three, how much is that? Fifteen pieces for each sheet, and there are two of them, so thirty," Hyunjin exhales heavily through his nose, leaning back on the chair and burying his fingers in his hair. "It would be great if there was some kind of device, like in printing houses, that could print it all. Writing itself isn’t so difficult, there are not very long definitions there. Drawing all this is much longer, and my hand is giving out, the lines are swimming before my eyes."
The problem continues to gnaw at him because constant disputes over some crosswords will not lead to anything good. And he understands that he may soon tire of this constant sketching. Composing questions is interesting, but drawing lines and matching them so that everything is even is quite taxing. If he has to do this for fifteen sheets, it will definitely not last long. He nibbles on his lip in contemplation. Changbin leaves the room, seemingly losing interest in something that doesn't concern him much. The whistle of the draft is heard through the open door.
Amidst the chirping of birds occupying the apple tree outside, Hyunjin straightens up, flexes his wrist, and returns to filling out the next sheet. In the kingdom, he could hire professionals and get a hefty stack of perfectly printed copies the next day. However, here everything has to be done by himself, after all, it's his responsibility. So, there's nothing left but to grit his teeth and focus on not messing up anywhere, otherwise he'll have to start all over again.
"What about this?"
A couple of minutes later, Changbin's voice makes him turn around. He enters the room and shows him a small wooden square.
"What's this?"
"It's a detail left from carving from the workshop. I think it can be used as a stamp. I'll be right back."
The clan leader disappears into the corridor and returns after a couple of seconds. He places a saucer on the desk, into which he pours a little ink from the bottle. Dipping the cherry-sized square, which was empty inside, into the ink, he taps the edge to let the excess drip off, takes a sheet from the stack, and presses the square against it. Neat lines forming a square mark the paper under his raised hand.
"Wow," Hyunjin's eyes widen as he leans in, then lifting the paper. "Damn, this is genius! It's a hundred times more convenient than drawing everything with a ruler and matching identical sizes."
"I'm flattered, Prince, did I manage to surprise you?" Changbin smirks contentedly, feeling a pleasant pride from the sudden praise.
"I don't wanna admit it, but yes. This... deserves recognition."
"Well, don't forget that your husband isn’t made of sh*t and has built a couple of houses in his time. And when doing something like that nothing works without cunning."
"It'll be easier to draw the grid now," prince takes the square and makes a few prints himself. "It still takes time to do them one by one though."
"Thinking about it, I could actually make you a set. This is a single one, and if I carve out a few more, they'll be twos and threes. With them, the process will fly. Then we can make one copy for two people, but since we still have to write everything, it'll take a week. A new crossword once a week, we can add a few more words to make it bigger."
"That sounds great," Hyunjin nods thoughtfully. "Then we could make it on a full sheet and double the number of words. When can you do it?"
"Probably even today. Just, Prince," Changbin places his hand on the desk and leans towards him, smiling cunningly. "What do I get for this?"
"Are you getting cheeky? Bargaining for my whims."
"Absolutely not. But it would be fair, wouldn't it? A little reward for my labor."
Hyunjin gazes into his deep eyes. He understands that Changbin won't refuse in any case. He could easily turn him down and still get what he wants. But both he and Changbin understand that all these rewards for services, which are supposed to be free in fact, are part of their twisted game. Each is curious about what the other will come up with. Where will this lead? What will be new? Just giving orders and receiving isn't interesting. Trying to outsmart each other and gain a special advantage - that's what intrigues them much more.
"What do you want?"
"Please me."
"Are you f*cking crazy?" Hyunjin arches his eyebrows indignantly. "I’m not gonna do you sh*t."
"Well, Prince, what are you thinking?" Changbin chuckles. "I didn't say how. Just do something nice for me. Up to you."
“Where’s the catch?”
"Nowhere. You decide what it will be."
"And how’d you get the guarantee that you'll like it?"
"I trust you. You're conscientious and kind enough not to turn it all into like a sneeze towards me."
"When?"
"Whenever you want. It's all in your hands."
For a while, Hyunjin stares at him with a probing gaze. He tries to feel for a trap, but finds nowhere to hook onto.
"Deal."
"Pleasure doing business with you."
"Go get sh*t done."
"As you wish, Prince."
Bestowing a sly smile upon him, Changbin offers a mocking bow and exits the room, leaving behind a lingering scent of mint. Why does it almost always smell like mint around him? Is he using some local lotion? Hyunjin inhales deeply, scoffs, and turns back to the desk. Mint is liked by everyone; there's nothing particularly special about it. Besides, there's also a hint of nicotine and campfires emanating from him, as if his clothes have been infused with them after campaigns.
Fingers twirl the square. The idea is indeed quite clever. It must be acknowledged that Changbin's wit shines quite brilliantly at times. It's no wonder, considering he manages an entire clan and negotiates with various traders and merchants. He even managed to persuade Hyunjin’s parents. Strangely enough, instead of a bitter taste, this evokes a smirk. Somehow, this whole situation has begun to seem amusing. How everything has turned out. Time has smoothed away the resentment, replaced by happy moments that have surfaced in his new life. In the kingdom, nobody would even bother listening to his idea of crosswords. They would simply point to the crown and remind him of his place and duties. After all, they were limited.
New grid templates begin to appear in the room within an hour. Hyunjin arranges his desk in a way that facilitates a smooth, organized process with specific steps. He lays a draft under the inkwell, positioning it so that used templates can be placed on it without soiling the desktop, and considers which part of the floor by the fireplace can be allocated for the drying of sheets. The knife, embedded in the wall by Changbin on the first night, is pulled out and then driven back in to secure the rough draft, serving as a reference before his eyes. After the preparations, prince begins his work.
The square templates significantly streamline the process. Within a couple of hours, Hyunjin deals with fifteen grids, pausing for lunch halfway through, before moving on to formulating questions. His back tires from sitting at the desk, so he soon decides to call it a day, deeming that he has already accomplished enough work. It's better to continue with fresh energy tomorrow, to avoid any mistakes. After lounging on the bed for a while, he heads to the sauna to wash away all the grime and freshen up. The street welcomes him with a lavender sunset and a warm summer breeze, which feels doubly pleasant after the rather specific activity that induces a unique kind of fatigue.
As his damp hair tousles, he rests on the veranda, settling on the bench with a cup of cold herbal tea. After finishing a cigarette, prince sits back relaxedly, enjoying the evening chirping of crickets and cicadas, blending with the rustle of leaves. He admires the purple hues on the bushes and grass, shimmering as the setting sun glides over the slowly darkening sky. He doesn't particularly enjoy idleness, but after a substantial workload, his mind yearns to unwind and not burden itself with anything. Sometimes, it's enough to just exist amidst the soothing embrace of nature.
"How's your factory production going?" Changbin ascends the terrace steps, stretching his shoulders after chopping wood behind the house.
"Blooming and fragrant."
"Easier now?"
"Much easier. I've already completed all the grids."
"Already? Don't rush, they can wait."
"It's no trouble for me. There's nothing else to do anyway."
Kicking off his boots near the door, Changbin settles onto the bench. Striking a match, he lights it up and for a few minutes silently takes drags, also gazing into the depths of the forest beyond the fence. Towards evening, nobody really feels like moving much. The body rests after a day's work. Managing household affairs is also a job. The household won't run itself.
The cigarette butt goes into the jar. The leader rubs his hands and cranes his neck. His gaze shifts from the vegetation bathed in the sunset to the person on his left. His head tilts slightly. Hyunjin's dark blue silk robe slipped off his shoulder. He is wearing a black tank top, his pale smooth skin stands out significantly against the backdrop of his attire. So do the sharp lines of his collarbones, the curve of his neck, where strands of raven hair sway glistening with moisture. After a while, prince finally notices the gaze upon him.
"Staring?"
"Admiring," Changbin replies in his usual composed manner.
"Thinking something dirty?"
"No dirt towards you, Prince. Only admiration."
The leader's fingers pick up the shirt and pull it back onto the shoulder. He raises his gaze and looks into the elongated eyes, scrutinizing his face. The corner of his lips curls upward.
"So, what about my reward?"
"I thought of one."
"And?"
"Sit on the floor."
"On the floor?"
"Yes. Or are you afraid?"
Changbin huffs with a smirk. He obediently slides down from the bench, sitting confidently in front of Hyunjin, allowing the situation to unfold naturally. Hyunjin inches closer to the right. His legs settle on either side of his spouse. After a brief pause, he buries his fingers in Changbin's charcoal hair, pulling the strands out. They're not overly curly, but there are light waves in some places. His nails graze the skin. Changbin exhales loudly, smiling contentedly and leaning back.
"Don’t moan," Hyunjin snickers.
"No promises, Prince."
Intentionally, Hyunjin tugs at his hair a bit harder, teasingly. Changbin doesn't protest, allowing himself to be manipulated as he pleases. Fingers comb through the locks. A little harsh. At first, Hyunjin handles it rather roughly, pulling apart light tangles with jerks. Then his movements involuntarily soften, as if he's immersing himself in the process, running his hand from the nape to the forehead, then brushing the hair back and forth from temple to temple.
The gaze observes Changbin, who has closed his eyes. Upon reflection, it's quite surprising how much he trusts him. Hyunjin could do anything behind his back. Sliding a knife's blade across his throat in this position would take a couple of seconds, during which he wouldn't be able to react and defend himself. Yet, he still entrusts himself to him, exposing himself from an unprotected angle. And something about this thought excites prince. His own uniqueness, which he feels. He's intrigued by how the determined leader of the clan changes when he's around. He's curious about this soft side of him, seemingly hidden from everyone else. Changbin tilts his head and rests his temple against Hyunjin's knee. His hands grasp the calf, and he rubs against the leg, nuzzling.
"You got smitten."
"You've got magic hands."
"Brown-nose."
"Can’t you see I’m enjoying it?"
"I'm not gonna stare at your pants."
This elicits laughter from Changbin. Hyunjin massages his warm scalp with his fingers and shifts his head to the other knee. Changbin doesn't resist. A mischievous exhale follows. It doesn't escape the leader's notice.
"You enjoy it too, don't you?"
"What? Digging through your damn hair?"
"Controlling me. I can see you like it. You enjoy when I fulfill your demands. You like being the only one allowed to do basically anything to me."
Initially, Hyunjin freezes. It’s as if he’s being put on public display, having been caught doing some kind of mischief. Having been seen right through. However, he doesn't remain in that state for long. His fingers grip the charcoal hair and tug it back, causing Changbin to lean back against his thigh. Hyunjin bends down, his lips brushing against Changbin's ear in his own manner.
"And don't you enjoy obeying me?"
The hot whisper brings a wide smile to Changbin's face, tinged with some cunning enjoyment.
"I do, Prince. Madly."
"Then keep obeying me."
Smirking, Hyunjin pushes his head and continues to smooth out the strands. How insightful he is. Actually prince tries not to dwell too much on it. It's difficult to admit that the initial teasing has turned into a peculiar need, gaining momentum. Changbin's attitude towards him breeds confidence and excitement within. Hyunjin has always been one of the princes for people. There's quite a handful of princes in all kingdoms. And he has always been one of them. His status attracted suitors, who desired him for beautiful offspring. But under Changbin's gaze, he doesn't feel like ‘one of them’, but rather ‘the one.’ He's the one for him. And that's why he wants to provoke him even more. He wants the greed in his eyes to grow, for him to desire his touch. Besides the physical aspect, he continues to support all his endeavors, talking about something in the morning, at the table, in the evening, becoming an inseparable obligatory part of every day. His presence doesn't allow loneliness to creep in.
The mass production of crosswords receives warm approval from the clan members. Even if these aren't strictly individual copies, it's much easier to come to a conclusion together as a couple or a trio than as a whole crowd. Interested men dissect their copies, and throughout the day, one can see them sitting together during breaks, discussing something, counting the boxes. Several encyclopedias and dictionaries vanish from the library, along with history and culture manuals. It's evident that some take this seriously and are eager to find the right source, inadvertently learning something new in the process.
Hyunjin ponders for a long time on how best to handle the answers. Writing them out on several copies seems rather pointless. Yet, reading them out in the evening by the bonfire doesn't seem quite right either, as some of the men are too busy with work and don't have time to solve the crossword in a day, and the answers would spoil the whole impression. Therefore, he decides to post a sheet with the answers in the library after a day, where those interested can check them whenever it suits them. Having finished with this crossword, he almost immediately starts on the next one, not letting the enthusiasm fade away.
By the beginning of the following week, the clan's residents receive a new batch of puzzles. Prince tried to make the crossword larger, now that there would be one per week. He distributes them at the bonfire, and the next day, on his way home after sword training in the hall, he finds himself surrounded by excited men actively discussing complex words that have puzzled many.
"Number nine totally blew my mind," Youngho shakes his sheet with blots and scribbled boxes. "What's the obverse side of a coin? A coin is, well, a coin."
"I have no clue either," nods Jisung, looking at his papers. "Minho is clueless too, and he's f*cking smart."
"Minho is solving my crossword?" Hyunjin raises his eyebrows.
"Yeah, just don't tell him. And you guys, keep that to you too, I know your loose mouths."
"Taking it to the grave, buddy," Youngho pounds his chest. "Cause if we tease the kitchen-bitchen about this, we'll really be taking it to the grave."
"Speaking of kitchens," Chan trails his finger along the line. "What's a piece of beef cut between the ribs and spine? What kind of specificity is that?"
"Specificity, look at you singing, feeling enlightened, huh?" Taeyoung chuckles.
"Yeah, right. I learned such words that I felt like I hadn't even held manure in my hands," Youngho jests, slapping their backs.
"No hints," Hyunjin playfully wags his finger. "All the answers will be revealed tomorrow."
"f*ck, that ‘acumen’ is ruining all the fun, sitting right in the middle and f*cking sh*t up. What even is that word?"
"Seriously, I got stuck because of it too."
"Can’t you find anything better to do, cause all you do is waste time."
A contemptuous voice makes everyone turn around. Behind the gathered group stands gloomy Donghyuk, wiping moist soil from his hands with a rag. The sun highlights his tanned skin, darkened from constant work in the garden. Curly hair bristles atop his head.
"The hell are you grumbling again?" Taeyoung raises an eyebrow.
"And why have you all gone off the trails? Spent whole days mulling over these stupid ass crosswords. We used to work properly, discuss actual matters, but now all you're doing is cluttering your heads with this bullsh*t."
"It's just a hobby, to entertain oneself during breaks," Hyunjin explains, slightly wounded by his words. "I'm not forcing anyone, they solve them when they have time."
"Yeah, right. We're working men, we have our duties, we need to earn a living with our hands, toil away, and you’re trying to turn us into some f*cking church gals who read books all day and sip juice," Donghyuk spits venom. "You’re pushing in your royal entertainments, and who’s gonna do the f*cking work? You'd better occupy yourself with something useful, instead of filling everyone's heads with your stupid scribbles, you pretentious peaco*ck."
The words soaked in disdain and irritation so discourage those present, who were previously enthusiastically discussing crosswords, that at first, no one can gather their thoughts to say anything due to bewilderment. Hyunjin opens his mouth, but can't utter anything, feeling as though a bucket of filth has been dumped on him. He thought he was doing something useful, something meaningful. However, just a second later, his bewilderment is overridden by surprise. Because Donghyuk suddenly finds himself on the ground from a punch landing on his cheekbone.
"What did you just call my husband?"
The deep eyes of Changbin who’s broken into their circle narrow menacingly. Wrath gleams in the voids. The knuckles of clenched fists whiten. He belligerently looms over Donghyuk, whose contempt on his face is instantly replaced by confusion from the blow, and then evident fear.
"Cha... I didn't mea... "
"What did you call him?"
"I didn't mean it like that, I just..."
The leader's hands grasp the man's shirt on his chest and jerk him up to his feet like a rag doll. The onlookers stand motionless, making no sound, only watching in astonishment.
"When a question is asked, it must be answered directly. Children are taught this from the very beginning of schooling. Do you want me to send you back to school? Do you need to learn manners anew alongside the children, Lee Donghyuk?"
"No..."
"Then answer my question and don't make me repeat myself."
The man swallows heavily and looks around helplessly. His previously rounded shoulders slump, he seems to deflate and shrink, shedding all arrogance. His gaze drops as he realizes there's no way out of the situation. To answer or not to answer will both have unpleasant consequences.
"Pretentious peaco*ck."
"You called my husband a pretentious peaco*ck," Changbin says sharply, staring him straight in the face. "Explain."
"I just chose the wrong words, I lost my temper, he... it's just that the guys are constantly talking about these crosswords he made now. They're getting distracted from work, it's hindering productivity. The clan doesn't need this, it's not some palace with scholars he came from."
"So now you decide what the clan needs? You evaluate productivity and decide what others should do? Maybe we should vacate our house for you to live in the place of the leaders of the Miroh clan?"
"No, that's not what I meant," Donghyuk quickly shakes his head, but he's roughly shaken.
"Hyunjin does what he does with my permission. I approved of it because I believe it's beneficial for the intellectual development of the clan, it's a good pastime. Much better than getting drunk and vomiting around corners in the evenings like some. Hyunjin is a full-fledged second leader of our clan and has the same authority as I do. If something bothers you, you should discuss it with us, not insult my husband and your leader."
"I... I understand. It was a mistake, I lost my cool."
"Apologize."
Changbin pulls Donghyuk by the collar towards prince. The latter silently watches what's happening, not interfering. Donghyuk swallows loudly, fumbles with his chilled fingers, takes a step forward, and bows his head, apologizing.
"I'm sorry. It won't happen again."
"Apologies accepted."
"Any other complaints towards me or my husband?"
The leader scrutinizes each of those present with a piercing gaze. Jaws clenched, chest pushed forward, eyes burning, the silk-embroidered ornament on the lilac collar of his black hanbok shimmering under the midday sun rays.
"No."
"No, no complaints."
"Everything's fine."
Hyunjin, who involuntarily straightened up from the unusual metallic tone, watches the men. In their clan, relationships are quite relaxed, many casually joke with Changbin, take smoke breaks with him, discuss personal matters around the bonfire. However, at this moment, even the heads of those who haven't committed any wrongdoing are respectfully bowed. Despite the usual camaraderie, it's as if an instinctual obedience to their leader is ingrained in them, perhaps because he previously led them in battles and possibly saved them from death with his decisions.
"Don't make me nurture you like children when you're already grown f*cking men. If you got something to say, speak it to me directly, so you don't stand like dogs with tails between your legs when you're scolded for whimpering. Dismissed."
There's no need for repetition indeed. Upon receiving the command, the men almost immediately turn around and disperse in different directions, without looking back. Changbin also pivots on his boot heels, tearing through the ground, and strides down the street. After a brief pause, Hyunjin catches up with him.
"That was too much."
"I won't allow anyone to insult or humiliate you. I don't care if it's a market trader or a member of my clan. I won't tolerate any sh*t whatsoever."
"I can stand up for myself."
"You can," Changbin nods, then turns to him. "But why dirty your hands when you have me?"
"Will you be my hunting dog?" Hyunjin snorts.
"I'd consider it an honor to tear someone’s throat out for my prince."
His spouse gives him a crooked smirk, immediately shedding his intimidating demeanor. His fingers catch Hyunjin's hand, warm lips lightly press against the back of it.
"I gotta work. Call me if you need anything, see you in the evening."
After saluting him, Changbin veers off the central road onto a branch leading to one of the distant workshops. Hyunjin's elongated eyes follow him with a lingering gaze. He touches the place of the kiss on his palm, then exhales with a smile. Alright, his husband has earned this one. There's a pleasant warmth in his chest. A sense of reliable protection. As if he doesn’t have to worry about anything in this world. The minty steadfastness continues to envelop him, tingling somewhere around the ring on his finger, even when Changbin isn't nearby.
