A Hwang Hyunjin Fanfiction
In the 18th century, court life was far from ideal, a reality well known to Hyunjin, the prince of a small yet powerful kingdom in East Asia. South Korea, though not vast, had earned a reputation due to its military v...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
"No!"
I was really outraged.
"Stop being stubborn and at least listen to my point of view." my father told me, but I couldn't let him finish his idea.
"Your point of view? Your point of view is null and void if it has anything to do with me!"
"Don't snap at me!"
When I saw my father stand up I realized that maybe I had raised my voice too much, but the fact was worn out. I wasn't going to let myself down.
"When I'm forced to defend my rights it seems right and normal to raise my voice, especially knowing that I am not being listened to. I have to make myself heard somehow!"
"Hyunjin, finish please." I could hear my brother whispering behind me, but my attention was completely on the individual in front of me, whom I called 'father'.
I took one last look at my father then left the room, heading straight down the hall in an unknown direction. I refused to listen another second to the words he was going to tell me. Anyway, every time they were the same, nothing was unfamiliar to me.
I ran my hand through my hair, frustrated with just the thought. This morning's fight had really thrown me off my feet. There was something about the way he spoke to me, as if everything I was - my desires, my thoughts, my dreams - didn't matter to him. I could feel my hands shaking, but not from fear. Of helplessness. At this moment I felt like he didn't know me at all. That he didn't even try. I felt betrayed, as if I had been forced to define myself by someone else, to dress my life in forms that were not mine. I didn't want to lose my authenticity. I didn't want to lose my identity. And yet I was forced to dance to the songs he played. Sometimes I thought that maybe it was better this way, to listen to him and swallow all the pain. To get used to this prison, to the lack of freedom. But I couldn't, I wasn't physically able to accept that. Many things about myself were unclear to me, but definitely rebellion and disdain for rules ran through my veins.
How much longer was he going to keep up this shit?
