Miroh (Completed)

2 . 3

"O-Oh Seunghee? Didn't you die five years ago?" Jackson anxiously asked as he stared at her in complete shock and horror. Seunghee glared at him continuously, in her hands was the book of records of all crimes of China's emperor had committed. "You died with your brother! This is impossible!"

"Sehun sacrificed his life to save me, you traitor! How could you convict the king with treason and try to take over the land?" she bursted as she threw the book at the emperor's direction. "Convicting everyone of fraud while people under you were dying! Stole all the queen's treasures! Attempted murder of Lee Minho and Lee Yongbok! Selling out illegal drugs to the kingdom and brainwashing the people away from the truth!"

Seungmin picked up the book and read the content. All Seungher mentioned were all inside except the last one. "How can you prove that Emperor Wang brainwashed everyone? He has no record of it in here."

"There is no need of that for everyone in this very room already knows," Seunghee confidently stated, completely unaware of the consequences it may bring to Minho. The reason why Jackson was starting to chuckle darkly.

"If so, why don't we prepare the hang of the commoner, Lee Minho?"

"What?" Felix gaped as he held his brother's hand tightly. "What are you saying?"

"A commoner's blood is never permitted to take over the throne which makes Minho a terrible insult to the royal family," Jackson explained, clapping mockingly at the shocked faces the children gave him. "Prepare for your death, Lee Minho—"

"Minho!" a very recognizable voice lingered throughout the halls as six people stepped inside the room. Chan stood for a moment until he saw Seunghee gaping at him too. "Noona, what are you doing here? It's dangerous!"

"Indeed, it is!" Jackson belted as he pulled out a gun and aimed it at Chan. Then everything escalated too fast and they were killing each other.

Minho was fast enough to hug Chan, the loud bang of the bullet resonated all over the throne room as he felt the piercing pain through his back. Blood ran past his lips, painting his chin in dark red. He gripped Chan's jacket, the agony running through his body when another bullet made its way in his body. He would have screamed because it hurt, instead Minho's face held a blank expression as he gazed up to look at Chan.

"Minho," said the older, trying to get any reaction from the man in his arms. Minho had taken two shots, Chan wasn't sure he'd live with it. Minho began to give up on his knees, Chan was still hoisting him up, crying, begging for him to not give up, "don't close your eyes, Min, please."

Chan was cupping Minho's face, moved his other arm around the blonde's shoulder and shook him gently. "Minho! Don't you give up on me!"

The latter's eyes fluttered open. Minho sighed contentedly at the sight of Bang Chan—his love, his everything. He brought his arm to caress Chan's pale cheek, "I love you, Chan."

"I know, I know, stop talking and hang on, okay? We'll get someone to—"

Minho lifted his head high, enough to place a tender kiss on Chan's lips. They were always soft and he loved them. He pulled away to see his blood on the other's lips, he almost apologized, but the wounds on his back were hurting suddenly.

Chan's breath hitched the moment Minho closed his eyes, his hands began to tremble against Minho's cold skin, "no, no, no, Min? Minho? Wake up, please? Don't—"

He brought his lips against the corpse. The lips were cold, the floor beneath them was bathed in blood. Chan helplessly shed his tears quietly, nuzzling his face on the body's neck, "don't leave me..."

"Seungmin, get the guards," Seunghee growled, giving Jackson the most menacing stare. The said boy stood there—stunned—no one mentioned about killing anyone in the plan. Seungmin wanted to cry, he thought no one was going to die—he didn't want anyone to die. He felt... Betrayed.

He turned on his heels, obeying Seunghee's order, but as soon as he did, Jackson raised his gun and finger on the trigger, aiming it at the boy. "Now, hold on, son," Jackson laughed, "where do you think you're going?"

Seungmin halted, hands in the air.

"That's enough, Emperor Wang," Felix interrupted, as much as he wanted to help Minho he couldn't. He was a commoner and Felix was the president, he had important matters to deal with first. "Do you want someone to escort you back? Or would you rather go alone?"

"I'm not going anywhere, Lee," said Jackson, snickering, "I'm going to take the land, either—"

Something hit his hand and make him drop the gun he was holding. He yelled in pain as, to what pierced through his hand was a small knife, began to slide out when he shook his hand. When he looked around, Chan was already marching toward him with a threatening glare. In his hands were two daggers and Jackson knew those were gifts for him.

Chuckling lowly, Jackson gathered his posture, "do you even think about the consequences when you try to kill me, Bang Chan?"

To his horror, Chan ignored his statement and went for his throat, choking him with his chain necklace and barely giving Jackson time to dodge (and breathe), "I'm not going to try, Jackson, because I will kill you."

There was a flare in his eyes, the anger that has made him into a killing monster. Jackson was horrified when he saw the shining daggers moving too close to his throat as he tried to fight Chan off. "Stop this, Bang! I am an emperor!"

"I've killed people who were higher than you," whispered Chan as he slit the emperor's throat slowly, making sure he feels the pain as the sharp edge sliced through his skin. The gurgled screams Jackson let out was only a motivation for Chan to continue.

The body fell heavy in his arms. Finally dead, he thought before throwing it down on the floor.

"Chan? I'm sure you know what Jackson said was true, right?" Felix tried not looking down at the corpse.

Chan turned his head to look at Felix.

So he had a brother, huh?

"You'll do fine as the ruler," said Chan and headed to the balcony that was connected to the throne room. It was the highest peak of the palace, a good place to have fresh air and rest.

Chan climbed up the railings, his hands were covered in dried blood that they were hard to stretch. He'd gone through so much against the government and now that he knew the people were in good hands, he though it'd be the best to stop everything.

The protest.

His life.

Everything.

Even Minho.

The next was nothing, the last thing he'd remember was the harsh wind blowing against his face as he fell from the balcony.