𝑭𝑳𝑶𝑾𝑬𝑹 𝑩𝑶𝒀 » ᵏᵗʰ

۪۫❁ཻུ۪۪ ； 一

» [ ❁ཻུ۪۪ ʄƖơῳɛཞ ცơყ ; episode one ] «
-ˋˏ ༻ the teacher of poetry ༺ ˎˊ-

"A doctor who's alsodoubling as a poetry teacher," Han-sung marveled with
an absolute amazement and adoration, "And if she's pretty on top of it all. Wah!"
└────────────────────────────────────────┘
.⋆˚   ┊    ┊     ┊      ┊      ┊     ┊☯︎

» [ author-nim ] «

"How I abhor today's weather," came the statement from pretty boy Kim Yeo-wool.

Small chuckles erupted amongst the ranks as Yeo-wool furiously flapped his fan before him. The group of four strolled gently through the area distributed to the members of Hwarang,
"The weather isn't completely horrid," Kim Ji-dwi mumbled, glancing in the pretty boy's direction, "Yes, it is a bit on the warm side but it could be worse."

Yeo-wool shot a dirty glare at the latter, than gave his full attention to adjusting his hanbok.
"I love the warm weather," Suk Han-sung, the youngest trainee to Hwarang, chirped. He extended his arms, allowing the oncoming breeze to catch the draping sleeves of his garb. He smiled his boxy smile before chuckling softly and looking at his hyungs. "It's a beautiful day to go down to the stream."

"The only time we go to the stream is to wash laundry," Yeo-wool mumbled damply, flapping his graceful fan with more vigor. "Now is that what you want to do, Han?"
The younger pouted softly. "No."

"Yah, let him be," Kim Sun-woo rebuked. He elbowed the pretty boy slightly, catching his attention. "He just wants to have a nice day."
Han-sung's face brightened instantly. He has always admired his hyungs, Sun-woo the most. Yeo-wool was nice and friendly as well but a bit....odd—at least to Han-sung.

"The new teacher arrived today," Yeo-wool added, turning to his cohorts, "I assume we'll be meeting into the schoolroom soon."
"Wah! A new teacher!" Han-sung bubbled, "New faces..."

"What will he teach," Ji-dwi questioned, cocking a curious eyebrow as he glanced in the pretty boy's direction.
"Correction, she," Yeo-wool replied, turning to the said. His luscious milk chocolate hair—now pulled back—complied with the motion, "And she will be teaching poetry," he added, enunciating the teacher's gender, "She also will be doubling as a physician."

"What's wrong with Ah-ro as our physician?" Sun-woo asked, suddenly intrigued by the toll of the conversation.
Yeo-wool laughed brightly, the sunlight catching the brilliance of his perfect teeth. "There is nothing wrong with your sister," he insisted, gracefully collecting the the extra from his sleeves, "She and your father will still be consulted on serious cases but the Poong Wol Joo figured it be good to have one 24-hours on premises."

"A doctor who's also doubling as a poetry teacher," Han-sung marveled with an absolute amazement and adoration, "And if she's pretty on top of it all. Wah!"
Ji-dwi frowned at the younger. "What have you eaten this morning, Han?"

The said blinked slowly, gazing at his elder in confusion. "Mwo?"
"She's not technically a doctor," Yeo-wool added, changing the topic, "She's studied under one but left a few years till she would become a doctor. The reason is unknown."

"Doctor but not doctor who is also our poetry teacher," Han-sung repeated, amazement still impressed on his face. His mouth formed the 'W' of 'wah' when Sun-woo cut him off.

"Why exactly are we being taught poetry?"

Yeo-wool frowned upon the man. "You don't like poetry, Sun-woo?"
The said shrugged carelessly. "I have to agree with Sun-woo on this," Ji-dwi mumbled, brushing some hair back, "I understand if we are to learn philosophy or things along that borderline. But poetry? I draw blank."

Yeo-wool tsked and shook his head at his comrades. "Uncivilized swines," he mumbled.

-ˋˏ ༻ ˎˊ-

Initiates of Hwarang filed into the stuffy classroom. Their uniformed hanboks all a blur to Choi y/n as the horde found their designated seats.
She coughed softly into her fist, glancing at the large piece of hanji paper placed before her. All the names of her students were clearly written in long strokes of Classical Chinese.

Finally her students reached their appropriate seating and watched her, with awaiting eyes—especially the youth Han-sung.
"Hello," y/n began formally, "I'm Choi y/n and I'll be teaching you poetry."

The room was silent as a few initiates glanced at one another, mostly wondering if this bullcrap was for real.
y/n smiled her gentle dimpled smile. "I know what you're thinking," she said, glancing at each student. "But poetry is a mandatory knowledge to have."

As she kept talking, Han-sung turned to Yeo-wool, who was strategically sitting to his right.
"She is pretty," he gawked, eyes widened, "I mean, I don't think I've ever seen anyone so beautiful before!"

Yeo-wool chuckled quietly, trying not to be heard. "She's way out of your league, Han-sung," he cooed, "She's your teacher and probably Noona to you. Besides, you're here to become a warrior for the king, not woo pretty girls. Or teachers, for that manner."

Han-sung pouted, his plump bottom lip cutely protruding from his face. "Yah, you're weird, Hyung," he said childishly, "I was just commenting that she is pretty."
Yeo-wool shook his head, hand clasped over his mouth to suppress his chuckles. Unfortunately his hand was proved to be no avail and Hun-sung's attempt to defend himself both attracted the attention of their poetry teacher.

"Is there something you'd like to share with the entire class, Hun-sung-ah?" Came the feathery angelic voice of y/n.
Immediately Hun-sung's chocolate head snapped up, his mouth hanging open as he stared gawking unintelligibly at his teacher.

"Me?" His deep baritone voice asked shakily.
A smirk curled y/n's taffy pink lips that stood prominently against her pallid creamy skin. "No, I was referring to myself," she responded with a huff and waved her slender hand before her. "Yes, I'm talking to you, Han-sung!"

The boy blushed a pretty pink, scratching the side of his face, earnestly. "Mianhae, Noona," Han-sung squeaked, trying to hide between his shoulders.
The entirety of the class turned, staring at the boy. Each repeated 'noona' silently, confused why Han-sung had addressed their teacher by this name. Even Yeo-wool was smirking, as he covered his mouth trying to keep his laughs quiet.

y/n cleared her throat loudly, drawing all attention back to her. "Han-sung, I'd prefer you to address me by Teacher-nim," she insisted, raising an eyebrow at the boy, "Noona seems a tad strange in the classroom, no?"

Han-sung nodded, dipping his head low, no even redder than before. "Yes, Teacher-nim."

—