Days of Grace | vkook

°26: A Wimp-Move

   Resounding steps and hushed whispers filled the palace's hallways in the early morning.   

Guards hurried in groups to the court, while servants positioned themselves in each corner, keeping their heads low and placing their hands neatly on top of their chimas* and bajis*. The excited sparkle in their usual dull irises got reflected by the freshly cleaned marble floor, almost every door was wide open and wherever one's eyes reached: dawn flooded the whole building with warm tingly sun rays.

Some carillons gently danced to the breezes of the wind, and the sweet smell of incense sticks permeated the air, reaching the noses of every passerby. Hoseok himself became captivated by the alluring scent, though he might have enjoyed the comforting vanilla note more if he weren't so focused on repressing his grumpy and sleepy mood.

The latter was upset at his colleagues for waking him up on his day off, merely to welcome the May Clan, whose arrival drew nearer with each passing minute.

"Stupid," he muttered to himself, his fists clenched tightly in the pockets of his uniform, and a sour pout present on his reddish lips.

Seeing the man with a frown was likely as common as rain in the desert, and, truth be told, he didn't understand the commotion in the slightest. Hoseok could have stayed in bed; his presence wouldn't make any difference, and his insignificant persona wasn't specifically requested to be there. He could hardly believe that his absence would tarnish the family's honor.

It's all for the show, he sighed as he leaned against a stony tiger figure and roamed through the court in his drowsiness.

Blue uniforms were arranged in meticulous rows on both sides of the court, creating a wide central path from the south gate to the elongated stairs of the palace. Some drum players were positioned between the soldiers in the front row, a few feet away from the beginning of the stairs. The orange-haired man also noticed his superiors taking their positions or coordinating ongoing preparations with verbal orders.

Something about the scene reminded him of docile marionettes, with only the strings and the puppeteer missing.

Hoping that the morning would pass quickly and that he could retreat to his room soon, Hoseok descended the stairs by taking two steps at a time. He dove into the crowd and searched for a spot far from the center. As he did so, he also kept an eye out for any friends, particularly a blond male, and cautiously glanced at the rest of his row. However, he only saw familiar faces from his duties, with whom he had no personal connections.

"Strange," Hoseok commented and tiptoed for a better view at the front. But he had to give up immediately—everyone looked exactly the same from behind.

The latter went back to his place, his hands still nestled in the warmth of his pockets, lacking motivation, enthusiasm, or anticipation in his posture. A deep groan escaped his chest, and he could feel heaviness on his eyelids, causing his vision to blur slowly.

M' tired... he yawned and blinked a few times.

Flashbacks of his dreams sneaked back into his head, and Hoseok gladly allowed himself a few minutes of daydreaming. He blocked out the noises and tried to recall the feeling of the ocean on his feet. The scent of salt replaced the vanilla in his nose, and the sound of waves swooshed in his ears. Eventually, he even started humming in serenity, completely oblivious to the mocking side glances he received from his colleagues.

And even if he did notice, Hoseok didn't care at this point.

"Straighten your back," he suddenly felt a rough hand on his shoulder, and the man failed miserably in suppressing a jumpy squeak.