Royal Enemies

2. ooh

Jisungs POV

Jisung stared up at Minho, barely able to suppress the mocking grin tugging at the corner of his lips. Minho's words were sharp, but Jisung's hazy mind dulled their impact.

"Go back to your brother, Jisung," Minho said firmly, his voice laced with frustration. "Before you do something else you'll regret."

Jisung let out a dry laugh, swaying slightly as he rose from his chair. "Oh, don't worry, Your Majesty," he slurred with a low bow that bordered on disrespectful. "I wouldn't dream of staying where I'm not wanted."

Minho didn't even dignify that with a response. He turned and walked out, his boots clicking against the marble floor as the door shut behind him with an audible thud.

For a moment, Jisung stood there, staring at the closed door with narrowed eyes. His pride stung, but more than that, the wine coursing through his veins left him restless. The last thing he wanted was to go back to Chan, to sit through a lecture about how he needed to be "better." What was so wrong about letting loose for once?

Instead of heading toward the throne room, Jisung wandered toward the side door that led deeper into the palace. He didn't have a plan—his mind was too muddled for that—but the long, quiet corridors beckoned him. Maybe he'd find a way to make the night more tolerable. Maybe he'd find something to take his mind off everything.

The palace was eerily still, the only sounds coming from the faint hum of the festivities and the occasional creak of the wooden beams. Jisung trailed his fingers along the walls as he walked, marveling at the intricate carvings and tapestries he barely noticed earlier. The grandeur of the Earth Kingdom palace was undeniable, even if it did belong to someone as insufferable as Minho.

After what felt like forever, he came across a heavy wooden door slightly ajar. Golden light spilled through the crack, and Jisung, curiosity piqued, pushed it open.

The room he stepped into was a bedroom, large and lavishly decorated. The four-poster bed was draped with emerald silk, the corners adorned with intricate carvings of vines and flowers. The faint scent of cedar and fresh linens lingered in the air.

"Not bad," Jisung muttered under his breath, stepping further inside. His gaze landed on a tray sitting atop a small table near the window, adorned with an array of delicacies and—more importantly—a fresh bottle of wine.

"Well, don't mind if I do," Jisung murmured, a crooked grin spreading across his face as he made his way over. He uncorked the bottle with clumsy fingers and poured himself a glass. The wine was rich and fragrant, warming him from the inside out as he took a long sip.

He settled into the chair by the window, staring out at the sprawling palace grounds. The moonlight bathed everything in silver, the gardens below looking almost serene. Jisung leaned back, glass in hand, and let his thoughts drift.

One glass turned into two. Two turned into three. Time blurred as Jisung drank, the sharp edges of his frustration softening into a warm haze. The more he drank, the more the weight on his chest seemed to lift, replaced by a fleeting sense of freedom.

By the time the bottle was nearly empty, Jisung was sprawled across the bed, his boots dangling off the edge. His head spun slightly, but he didn't care. The plush silk beneath him felt impossibly soft, and he let out a contented sigh.

"Stupid Minho," he muttered to no one in particular. "Thinks he's so much better than me, with his stupid palace and his stupid... everything." He laughed to himself, the sound loud in the quiet room. "Well, joke's on him. This bed is mine now."

His eyelids grew heavy as the wine finally began to lull him toward sleep. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he knew he'd probably regret this tomorrow. But for now, the world was spinning too pleasantly for him to care.