𝐀𝐦𝐨𝐧𝐠𝐬𝐭 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐊𝐧𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 ║ ᴡᴏᴏꜱᴀɴ

𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐈𝐕. 𝓟𝖗𝖊𝖘𝖘𝖚𝖗𝖊

ˏ⸉ˋ‿̩͙‿̩̩̥͙̽‿̩͙ ♕ ‿̩̥̩‿̩̩̥͙̽‿̩͙ˊ⸊ˎ

┗━━ 𝓦𝓸𝓸𝔂𝓸𝓾𝓷𝓰'𝓼 𝓟𝓞𝓥 ━━┛

The morning arose without the flutter of a word. The kingdom was oddly still at such an hour, likely laden with workers and the scent of breakfast to flutter about the vacant halls. Wooyoung didn't care to eat at the grand table beside his mother, residing within his room once more, looking at his reflection within his enlarged mirror. The mirror was reflecting the morning sun just barely, the gold frame shimmering lightly in the light that shone inwards. Wooyoung shifts the weight between his feet, tilting his head, his fingers tracing the delicate golden buttons of his blouse, chewing on the interior of his cheek as he studies the appearance of someone he could barely recognize.

He knew who he was on the inside, but this facade that he was having to portrait forcibly was weighing over him, like a cloud hovering above an unsuspecting kingdom. The clouds were dark, laden with pouring rain and booms of thunder, and rather than fleeing inside to escape the onslaught of rain, Wooyoung stood outside, damp and drenched from the water pouring over him, threading through the long locks of his ebony hair and down the sensitive skin of his face. He felt it all; every tear, every streak, every surge of emotion. Even as he stood there in the mirror, perfectly dry and unscathed by a threat of rain, he couldn't help but feel as if he was already drowning in this.

Ji-soo was moving about the space, her features seemingly worn with exhaustion, almost as if she hadn't slept in a few days. Yet, her movements were far from mechanical. She was practiced, moving fluidly, folding garments and preparing Wooyoung's crown for the usual polish it received every morning. The other ladies, ones of which Wooyoung rarely saw except for cleaning days such as these, also moved about the space with an act of ease, making his bed and tidying up his space, though it was far from disorderly.

Wooyoung sighs, his chest subtly heaving as he tries to decompress before the morning would be subdued with stress. He had always appreciated this quiet, taking a moment to soak in what he felt to be a sense of normalcy. The birds chirping, the subtle whisk of clouds loosely hanging above his kingdom, the palette of colors that shifted with every rising inch of the sun and descent of the moon; it was serene, to say the least. Yet, the moment that crown would adorn his head, he would feel all of the pressure his father once wore, knowing that he and he alone lay responsible for the lives that were led far beyond the confines of his castle.

It was almost as if Ji-soo knew, or at the very least, understood, all of the emotions raging through Wooyoung's mind. She was a quiet accomplice, moving about her tasks, not bothering to ask meaningless questions that would fail to calm the tide of pressures looming just beneath the surface. Wooyoung was trained to be like this; to remain expressionless and even-keeled, to represent the enigmatic grace of those who were raised with poise. He knew people were always watching him, studying his every movement and shift of expression, observing for a single lapse that would crack in his armor, bleeding through with whatever vulnerabilities would present themselves. He knew better than to crack, especially with an evening ahead of him like this.