𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐄𝐧𝐞𝐦𝐲'𝐬 𝐇𝐮𝐬𝐛𝐚𝐧𝐝 || 敵の旦那様 (𝐁𝐋) ✔ [COMPLETE]

70. Death Chimes

Early morning on that day, Fu Lin was awakened by the prison guards and ushered into the washing chamber to clean himself off of the dirt that embodied his physical body. It was a bad omen in the Empire to house the death of a person who remained physically unclean when the death was ordained by divine monarchical decree. When he was washed clean, he was adorned in typical white robes- robes that signified death and peace in the afterlife.

As he was seated across the chair with white sleeves fluttering around him, two prison guards came forward quite awkwardly and stood staring down at him sympathetically. Then one of them asked,

"Is... uh... is there anything the Seventh Prince—"

"Hey!" the other guard chastised him.

"What?" He asked, slightly annoyed. "We're the only ones here. I can't possibly call him 'prisoner-under-this-law' when I know how important he is to, you know..."

Fu Lin looked between the both of them mirthlessly. He smiled uncharacteristically. "A dead man wouldn't tell tales. I'm as good as dead, so call me whatever you want."

"That..." the prison guard sighed as he asked, "Is there anything...uh... prisoner wants as a last wish of amnesty?"

Fu Lin's eyes instantly lost colour. He mumbled almost inaudibly, "A remarriage..." "I'm sorry what?"

"Nothing," Fu Lin shook his head, "I believe it's about time."

As they exited the dungeon tunnel, Fu Lin's heart was overtaken by a sense of nausea. He never expected he'd die this early in life, but when things came down to it, he knew he was bound to swallow and accept it. He thought he'd accepted it. But when a bile rose against his throat at the sight of the wooden plank upon which his head would be torn off of his body, he began to panic.

Until he saw him standing by the wooden plank. He was dressed in the robes of a capital punisher, black and gold silk tattered at the edges. He stood erect, with his imperial sword at hand.

Haoran's eyes fixed on the empty throne slightly tilted to his side. Their eyes met.

That was all it took for Fu Lin to calm down. He closed eyes and breathed in slowly. He suddenly remembered why he didn't panic the last time at the court as he threw himself at Haoran's sword. It was because it was him.

It had always been him.

As the frenzy in his heart cleared, Fu Lin began to take note of his surroundings. He abruptly stopped short when he realised what was happening around him. There were people sobbing and crying at his passage, and some of them even threw flowers at him.

"Our prince! Please, don't leave us behind!" These were... Silver Mountaineers?

His eyes immediately shot to the throne that Guang was supposed to perch himself on. But he wasn't here yet... he had no idea what the Emperor was planning on calling or allowing the Silver Mountain subjects to witness his beheading ceremony.

As he kept walking in bewilderment, one of the hands from the crowd shot out and held him hostage. Before the guards behind Fu Lin could react, the person who held him amidst the crowds whispered something in Fu Lin's ears. Fu Lin's eyes, that were rife with curiosity, immediately died down as his eyes began watering up.

"Um... Prisoner?"

The guard's voice broke him out of his reverie as he came back to his senses. He wiped his tears away and pursed his lips.

It didn't matter, he thought. He'd die soon anyway.

As he made his way to the plank, the entire crowd erupted into a loud chaos. Emperor Guang was making his way through the red carpets and everybody bowed before him, except for the Silver Mountaineers, who uttered curses under their breaths. Guang narrowed his eyes at them and looked at the main actors of the event and realised even Fu Lin wasn't bowing down.

"Arrogant bastards," the Emperor muttered under his breath, "Every last one of them giving me a headache after another. At least today, I'd be rid of one."

"Kneel," He ordered, looking pointedly at Fu Lin.

The guards behind him pushed him down immediately, hitting his head on the plank with a thud. Fu Lin coughed to look up at the figure of Haoran towering over him, turning a blind eye to all that was happening.

Perhaps he too had given up on him, knowing a dead man was useless. Fu Lin smiled. It was for the better.

Emperor Guang's shrill voice reverberated through the entire open hall, "Let the ceremony begin."

A chilling wind blew, rousing a cluster of dead leaves in its wake. Chimes of eerie music sprung from the hands of the bell beaters and harpists as if they embodied the swelling ache of death in their very thrums and threads. Chimes of death- signifies the death of a sinner.

As Haoran raised his sword to bring it down, the Emperor raised his hand.

"Haoran," The Emperor spoke frostily, "That sword was meant for you to raise it against the enemy, not against yourself. If you try anything that acclimates self-harm, remember; the

seventh prince is yet a prisoner of the Blazing Sun and if you attempt to kill yourself, I assure you, he shall suffer something beyond death. And if you attempt death after killing him, it is still the same. His physical body shall not be spared."

Haoran pursed his lips as his eyes darkened, "I had never intended to kill myself." "Good," he said, "Now get to the beheading."

The death chimes rose melodiously, like the far cry of a slaughtered woman. Haoran's hands tightened around the sword as he gazed at Fu Lin's wispy eyes on the plank, who now bared his neck to him. Haoran rose the sword above his head and said,

"Tell me you love me," His voice was on the verge of devastation. "Tell me you love me and I shall slaughter everyone in this hall not looking back. Tell me and I'll kill everybody except you and take you from these heinous eyes somewhere far away."

Fu Lin laughed lightly. "A beautiful dream." Then looked at him lovingly, "But that's all it is, a dream. You know I cannot utter those words and yet... you ask every time. I shall not have you bear such countless scars except this one scar. And that is my death. So kill me because I am the fortunate one to die in your hands."

The horns bellowed and the death chimes rose higher. With each rising note, the imperial sword came down an inch deeper until the music was no more. The sword that should have sunk through Fu Lin's neck stopped when the Emperor yelled,

"Halt the killing!"

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