Two Gods || Jaywon

Rebirth

"How could this pretty kid with nice white teeth ever be the prophet of doom?" thought Jongseong.

It couldn't have been that easy for the Empress to transform him that much. He looked too untouched and too immaculate.

Then, Jongseong remembered the voice he heard the day he was born, an unyielding proof that he was the prophet. Coming to this realization, he jumped at the imperial carriage shouting,

"Impostor ! Who the fuck do you think you're fooling! Get out of here!"

Taking everyone by surprise, he had managed to open the door of the moving carriage and had grabbed the fake prophet by the collar, throwing him out on the street.

Then he jumped him and started punching him. The imperial guards were quick to come stop him.

"How dare you touch the prophet!" was shouting the crowd.

"This bastard isn't the prophet! You heretics!" was shouting Jongseong, sounding a little too much like the woman.
"Give me back my castle life, you fake fuck!"

The Empress hadn't left the carriage, but the guards came to carefully help their fake prophet.

Since he was just a crazy kid, the Empress ordered that Jongseong got freed. But the guards made sure to discard him far from the imperial carriage, so that he didn't see where it was headed.

Jongseong ended up in a familiar place. In the middle of trash, every part of his body hurting, at the back of a dead-end.

Now that the adrenaline had ran out, he could feel how painful his empty stomach was.
All energy had left him.
He had just seen how his life had been stolen from him, by both the fake prophet and the skeletal woman, and for the first time in his life, he felt hopeless.

Even if he was still awake, even if he wasn't dead, after all this time, he still had not an once of power to reclaim what was his.

His god had lied.

"He's ready."

"...you finally broke him? What's next?"

"Next is-"

As he was letting himself slowly die, just like the day that he was born, Jongseong saw a silhouette stop at the entrance of the dead-end.

"No..."

"What is happening?"

But the silhouette wasn't bony, nor a woman. It wasn't in a hurry or screaming.

It was shining.

"What is he doing here!? Weren't you supposed to keep an eye on him!?"

"H-he is always on a mission or at the temple, I have no idea how he ended up here!"

A ray of light finally lit up the silhouette's face. He was a boy, probably Jongseong's age, in way better health, wearing an all white outfit weirdly covered in dirt, and at his neck was hanging the symbol of the temples. A symbol Jongseong had been made up to hate.

But at this very moment, Jongseong couldn't feel hate.

The boy's face was the most beautiful thing Jongseong had ever seen, his expression had not a trace of hate or malice, and his movements were so careful and devoid of aggressiveness.

His whole body was bending towards Jongseong, eager to help and not afraid nor disgusted at all.

"Can you move?" asked the boy.