He is My Curse | minsung

introduction.

He had been told the story probably a hundred times. The story that shaped his life and ultimately his fate. He can still recall his mother telling him the story while he was a young boy, her face soft with a gentle smile. It was forever engraved in his mind.

When Minho's mother was younger and just recently widowed, she found out she was pregnant. It was an unfortunate situation and she had been dealing with her own grief and hardship only to find out she would soon have another life to insure. Don't get her wrong, she was excited for a baby and even grateful. Grateful that she would still have a piece of her husband, Minho's dad, living and breathing by her side. Though Minho never got to meet him, he saw love and affection radiate from his mom's features even at the slightest mention of his father. She truly loved him.

She worked as a seamstress, sewing and weaving all day long. Her fingers often looked rough and wrinkled from doing the tasks for hours on end, but Minho always thought they were beautiful. With those hands she eventually provided for them. Though the career was grueling, she was extremely appreciative of the rare chance. See, women didn't often have jobs in Greece as they were meant to be homemakers and to assist their husband and children. There was no husband, but there would be a child, so once she got an offer to work (even if it was for far less than a decent wage), she took it with no hesitation.

Months into her pregnancy, with a bulging stomach and pained hips, she was walking home from her workplace. The walk was quite the sight, with temples shining in the distance and streams flowing between trees causing the sound of rushing water to fill her ears. She enjoyed the walk as much as she could despite the long stretch quickly causing fatigue. As she was approaching her favorite creek, one filled with crystal clear water and tweeting birds. It gently flowed over rocks and between fallen tree branches before disappearing into a flower-filled field. What was different about the stream today was there was an elderly woman sitting on one of the smaller boulders lining the beaten path. Minho's mother quickly heard her faint sobs crowd the otherwise hushed air. Her cracked and sun-spotted hands covered her face, but tear drops ran down her arms, dripping off her elbows. Any person would stop to help an elderly person, so that's exactly what his mother did.

"Are you alright?" she asked quietly so as to not startle her. Once the crying only continued with no response, she slowly approached the figure with caution. "Hello?"

Eventually after a minute or so, the crying slowed, replaced with quiet sniffles and the clearing of a throat. "My m-mirror..." her voice was hoarse and speaking undoubtedly caused her pain, "I can't reach it."

Her frail finger pointed to the left where the ground began to slope down. Where she was pointing sat a hand mirror with a gold handle and the glass clean as day. Even though the movement of picking it up wouldn't be much easier for Minho's mother, she tried her best anyway. She groaned and grunted as she leaned over, her belly in the way making it hard to see where it was. Finally, she felt her fingers grip it and she let out a sigh of relief.

"Here you go," she said as she handed the lady the mirror which probably cost more than years of her pay, "I hope everything turns out okay."

They were simple words and my mother didn't think much of it before turning around and walking away. Except she couldn't get far until she felt a strong, warm grip on her hand. Her heart stopped at the feeling. The old lady had looked far too weak to be that close already. Minho's mother wondered with wide eyes if all this was just a ruse to let her guard down. What if she just fell into a trap, all alone with nobody to save her. She whipped around to see who could be the owner of the hand.

It was a beautiful woman with golden hair and beautifully tan skin. A rosy blush spanned across her cheeks and her eyes were a captivating hazel. She had a kind smile and her robes were a stunning white. She was unbelievably darling, Minho's mother stood there in shock.

"Thank you for your kindness," the lady's voice was warm and her breath smelt of vanilla, "I owe you a favor in return."

Before his mother could even register what was being said or what was happening, she felt the lady place a hand on her stomach. An intense wave of warmth followed by a tingling sensation passed through her body. She would've sworn she was losing it when she saw her body surrounded by a golden aura. She looked up in terror at the piercing eyes in front of her.

"A child with the blessing of Aphrodite, a man of the Olympian gods."

Finally Minho's mother understood, but at the same time the understanding made her have more questions. Why had Aphrodite been here? Why did she choose his mother to bless, well, Minho to bless?

In the end, Minho's mother always laughed at this part. She had no idea she was having a boy, but a goddess herself revealed it. The story always ended in the goddess suddenly fading with a cunning smile. All that was left was her mirror on the ground, shining and waiting for his mother to pick it up. She could have sold it, but instead she kept it in fear that it would be taboo to sell a gift from an Olympian. It always irked his mother, the way she smirked before leaving as if she had a trick up her sleeve. It was Minho's turn to laugh at that part now. Not out of humor, but out of pain and hatred.