•Fly high, my pretty angel...•|A jongsang story|

•🦢🌿1.The Arrow and The Swan•🌿🦢

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The echo of footsteps on marble floors was a sound Jongho had grown accustomed to, a rhythmic cadence that followed him through the halls of Demetris Castle. Each step was a reminder of the life he was born into-a life where power was measured by the cold steel of a blade and the weight of blood on one's hands. The castle was a fortress, both physically and emotionally, impenetrable and devoid of warmth. Its ancient stones held secrets, whispered in the dead of night by those who had long since perished under its roof.

Jongho's hand gripped the hilt of his dagger, the leather worn and familiar under his touch. He had been trained to use it since he was old enough to hold it, taught by his father, who had learned from his own father before him. In the Demetris family, violence was a legacy, passed down through generations like an heirloom. And Jongho, the youngest son, was no exception.

As he made his way through the castle's labyrinthine corridors, Jongho's thoughts were on the hunt. It was a rare moment of solitude in a life where privacy was a luxury, and he relished it. Hunting was not just a sport for Jongho; it was a way to hone his skills, to prove to himself that he was as capable as his older brothers. It was also an escape, a brief respite from the oppressive atmosphere of the castle.

Outside, the day was bright, the sun casting long shadows across the courtyard as Jongho prepared his bow. The forest beyond the castle walls beckoned to him, a wild, untamed place that called to the part of him that still yearned for freedom. Freedom from the expectations, from the bloodshed, from the legacy that hung over him like a shroud.

He slung the bow over his shoulder and set off toward the forest, his steps quickening as he neared the edge of the woods. The trees closed in around him, their branches forming a canopy that blocked out the sunlight, casting the forest floor in a dappled shade. Jongho moved silently, his eyes scanning the underbrush for any sign of movement. His heart was steady, his breathing calm-this was where he belonged, where he felt most at ease.

It wasn't long before he came upon the swan lake, a hidden gem in the midst of the forest. The water was clear and still, reflecting the deep green of the surrounding trees. Swans glided across the surface, their white feathers gleaming in the soft light. It was a scene of perfect tranquility, untouched by the harsh realities of the world beyond the forest.

Jongho's gaze swept across the lake, taking in the serene beauty, but it did not move him. Beauty was a foreign concept to him, something he had never been taught to appreciate. In the world he knew, beauty was fleeting, and only strength endured. And so, without a second thought, he raised his bow, nocked an arrow, and took aim.

The arrow flew straight and true, cutting through the air with deadly precision. The swans scattered, their wings beating furiously as they fled from the danger. But one was not so lucky. The arrow struck its target, and the swan fell, a flash of white against the green of the lake's edge.

Jongho lowered his bow, a small smile playing on his lips. He approached the fallen bird, the smile fading as he drew closer. The swan lay on the ground, its pristine feathers stained with blood. Its eyes, dark and glassy, stared up at him, unseeing. For the first time in his life, Jongho felt something stir within him, a flicker of emotion that he could not name.

He knelt beside the swan, his hand hovering over it as if unsure whether to touch it. The bird was beautiful, even in death. Its wings were outstretched, as if in flight, and its neck curved gracefully, its head resting on the ground. Jongho's breath caught in his throat, and he pulled his hand back, suddenly repelled by what he had done.