The grand hall of the Earth Kingdom's palace was exactly the kind of place Jisung hated—stifling, overdecorated, and crawling with people who thought themselves far more important than they were. He tugged at his collar for the third time, wishing he could vanish into one of the stone walls and escape the endless formalities.
But no, he had to be here. Chan insisted. His older brother had an uncanny ability to rope him into things, throwing around words like "duty" and "family honor" until Jisung had no choice but to give in.
"Stop fidgeting," Chan said under his breath as they made their way through the crowd.
Jisung shot him a sideways glance. "I'm not fidgeting. I'm suffering."
Chan chuckled, clapping a hand on his shoulder. "Try to look like you're enjoying yourself. You're making us look bad."
"Pretty sure your golden reputation can survive my bad attitude."
Before Chan could respond, Jisung spotted him—Minho, the crown prince of the Earth Kingdom, standing near the far wall with his arms crossed and his trademark scowl firmly in place. Jisung's mood soured further.
"Great," he muttered. "And here I thought this night couldn't get any worse."
Chan followed his gaze and smiled. "Don't start, Jisung."
"I didn't say anything."
"You didn't have to."
Despite Chan's warning, Jisung's steps slowed as they approached Minho. The other boy turned to greet them, his face lighting up when he saw Chan. But the moment Minho's eyes landed on Jisung, his expression darkened.
"Jisung," Minho said, his tone clipped. "Still alive, I see."
"Barely," Jisung replied with a smirk. "I wasn't sure I'd survive this dull excuse for a celebration."
Minho's jaw tightened, and Jisung felt a flicker of satisfaction. Riling Minho up had been his favorite pastime for as long as he could remember. It wasn't just the Earth Kingdom prince's annoyingly perfect posture or his holier-than-thou attitude—it was the way Minho always rose to the bait, every single time.
"And you're still managing to act like a brat," Minho said coolly.
"Better than acting like a rock," Jisung shot back.
Chan stepped between them, rubbing his temples like he was used to this routine—which, to be fair, he was. "For the love of the gods, can you two behave for one evening?"
"No," Jisung and Minho said in unison, their voices overlapping.
Chan sighed. "Why do I even try?"
Jisung crossed his arms, leaning slightly against his brother's shoulder. "Because you love us both, obviously."
Chan raised an eyebrow. "One of you is making it a lot harder than the other."
Minho snorted, but Jisung wasn't about to let him get the last word. "Don't be too hard on him, Chan," Jisung said with mock sympathy. "He can't help being boring. It's in his blood."
Before Minho could retort, the sound of a gong echoed through the hall, silencing the crowd. Jisung glanced toward the raised platform where the Earth Kingdom's king stood, his presence commanding.
Minho straightened beside him, his expression hardening into something serious and unreadable. Jisung hated how natural it looked on him, like he was born to wear that kind of authority.
And for a moment, Jisung felt a pang of something he couldn't quite name—something he quickly smothered with irritation.
Because if there was one thing he knew for certain, it was this: Lee Minho had a way of making him feel like the smallest person in the room.
And Jisung hated him for it.
As the king began his speech, Jisung let his attention wander, his gaze flicking back to Minho against his better judgment. There was something infuriating about the way the older boy held himself—straight-backed, arms neatly at his sides, exuding an air of quiet authority that seemed to command respect without even trying.
Jisung shifted his weight, suddenly restless. He turned his eyes to his brother and he could feel the invisible comparisons people made when they looked at him and Chan. His older brother, steady and dependable, carried the crown with effortless grace. And then there was Jisung—too loud, too reckless, and too... himself.
Beside him, Minho didn't move a muscle, his sharp profile set like stone as he listened to his father speak. It was maddening. Was there anything that could rattle this guy? Anything at all? Jisung thought briefly about "accidentally" tripping into him, just to see if he could knock that infuriatingly calm expression off his face.
Got it! Here's the revision focusing solely on the hate:
Instead, he leaned closer to Chan and whispered, "How long is this speech supposed to be? I think I'm aging."
Chan shot him a warning look. "Behave."
"Or what? You'll exile me?"
"If you don't stop talking, I might."
Jisung smirked but fell silent, though his annoyance didn't fade. His eyes flicked back to Minho, the perfect, untouchable crown prince, standing with his usual air of superiority. Everything about Minho grated on him—the way he stood so straight and stiff like he was already wearing a crown, the way his expression never wavered from that perfect mix of boredom and disdain.
He hated him. Absolutely hated him.
It wasn't just Minho's attitude, though that alone was enough to drive Jisung mad. It was the fact that no matter what Jisung did, no matter how clever his jabs or how sharp his words, Minho always found a way to twist the knife right back. Minho always looked calm, collected, untouchable.
It was infuriating.
Minho shifted slightly, and Jisung froze as their eyes met. A flicker of recognition passed between them, followed by Minho's trademark smirk—small, infuriating, and designed to make Jisung's blood boil.
"What are you looking at?" Minho murmured, his tone low and condescending.
Jisung's jaw tightened, his hands clenching at his sides. "Nothing," he spat, forcing himself to look away.
But his heart was pounding, his irritation bubbling over. He hated the way Minho always seemed to know exactly how to get under his skin. He hated the way he could never win against him, no matter how hard he tried.
And most of all, he hated that no matter where they were—no matter how much distance he tried to keep—Minho always seemed to be there, a constant thorn in his side.
No, it wasn't complicated. There was no mystery, no unspoken understanding between them.
Han Jisung hated Lee Minho. Pure and simple.
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a/n: this is my first book so hopefully its not trash 🧍♀️
also I just got my acrylics taken off and now im struggling to type on my phone 💃🕺💃
if yall got any questions or clarification feel free to ask 🏃♀️
