Chapter Text
Creeeeeek-
Dokja slowly winced from the loud sound. Once the gate was open enough, he slipped inside.
The castle grounds looked worse from the inside than the out. It was overgrown by neglected plants and parasitic weeds. The cracked pavement and walls had all but lost their bright hues. He looked up, the sky was clear and completely devoid of stars. The only source of light being the full moon. It was a perfect halo behind the remains of the tallest tower. The broken silhouette of the castle was haunting. Walking on the pathway in the cold winter breeze felt as though he was strolling through the nether realm. The thought sent a shiver down his spine.
Dokja was in paradise.
His mouth gaped as he took in the sights. And there were only sights to be seen, not a single sound could be heard. He recalled that line from the book and he felt there could never be a more fitting description.
Looking around he could now clearly see the truth. This wasn’t just something that inspired his beloved castle from his book… It was the real thing. There’s no way it could be anything else; it had to be. There was no other explanation for its unnatural appearance.
With a pounding heart, he refreshed his memory and followed the path that had been written down. Straight towards the kitchen door from the back gate, take a left and follow the curved path lined with flowers, past the daisies and lavender… Or what remains of it, he supposed. He really hoped the roses were in better condition. Everything was run over by dark weeds. While it suited the whole creepy vibe, it left a bitter taste in his mouth.
A short stroll later, he stopped, there it was, right in front of him, the cursed rose garden he’d been looking for.
Dokja couldn’t help the way his smile widened as he took in the sight of each blooming rose. Every single one its own beautiful shade of red.
For years he had obsessed over this story. Years he spent in that place they’d always sworn never existed. And here it was. The story he had recorded from a hazy memory was right it in front of him.
He still couldn’t believe it.
He wandered in and in a trance decided to test one of the thorns. It pierced his finger at the slightest pressure. It was absolutely mesmerizing. He vaguely wondered, in a trance, if that guy’s sword was as sharp as this.
As he looked up, a particular flower caught his eye, hanging on the high wooden beams of a barren well.
Unlike the others, this one was white. Like the one in that guy’s room…
Dokja’s senses seemed to heighten as he walked towards it, the product of a feeling of foreboding. The silence was deafening.
He tested the sturdiness of millennia old well’s wall and stared into its depths. It was… Dark. Kinda like the catacombs from before, he thought. He scrutinized it for a moment, deemed it dangerous, then stupidly continued his quest.
He stood on the wall, balanced, reached for the flower, stood on his toes and stretched. His long fingers brushed equally pale petals, he shifted a bit and plucked the flower-
He slipped. Fu-
His sharp and sudden descent was stopped just as quickly as it started, all thanks to an equally sharp and sudden pull on his collar.
His toes somehow found minimal support on the still unstable granite wall. Before he could properly gain his bearings, there was a strong pressure around his neck.
As he struggled for breath, he belatedly realized that his hands were wrapped around whatever was choking him. Further examination led to him realizing it was a person’s hand, a scarred hand with long, lean and very strong fingers.
He internally cursed and prayed it was anyone other than that bastard and tried to focus his tear-blurred vision.
He slowly began to make out the features of the person in front of him.
Tanned skin with perfect angled brows casting shadows over deep and heavy eyes, lashes naturally curled upward. A set of half-pyramid-like structures atop his head, that just moved-
Shit, it’s him. It’s the bastard himself.
“You. Who are you?”
Dokja would have sighed or hit himself upside the head if he could. But, at this moment, he could only choke.
The dark figure adjusted his grip and asked again. “Tell me who you are or you won’t be taking your next breath.”
Just did, thought Dokja. He didn’t say it out loud though, he knew this guy would follow through with the threat.
So, he heaved in a deep breath instead.
“I’m Kim Dokja.”
“A strange name.”
Dokja shrugged the best he could. “I’ve heard that a lot.”
“What exactly is your business here?”
That’s odd… He’s leaving time for questions?
He decided to test the waters a bit.
“Let me down so I can talk properly.”
The grip on his neck tightened.
“Okay! Okay,” he gasped and tapped the figure’s forearm in surrender. Once the hand loosened, he took another deep breath and took a moment to compose himself.
“I - “
“Use honorifics.”
This brat, Dokja gave an annoyed expression, he’s getting cocky.
“What if I don’t want to?”
The man gave him an empty stare and then slowly looked into the well’s depths. Dokja followed his gaze.
“Ugh, fine,” Dokja relented. Afterall, if he understood the story right, this pompous prince in front of him was, in all technicality, far older than him and he was definitely strong enough to defeat the kingdom’s entire army if he so wished.
“I came here… to,” he slowed his words, carefully crafting up answers and weighing them against this guy’s character, “see the flowers from my dreams.”
An incredulous look was sent his way.
“From,” he furrowed his brows, like it made no sense, “your… dreams?”
“Yeah,” Dokja decided to test his luck, “it wasn’t just the flowers though. This castle, Yoo Joonghyuk-ssi, your companions, the curses, Anna Croft.”
Joonghyuk’s eyes, that had widened and glowed gold at his name, and his grip, that had tightened at the word ‘companions’, both froze and faltered at the mention of the person he despised.
Dokja continued, “I know it all. Cause, you see, I’m a prophet.”
Joonghyuk-ah’s gaze became weary. He’s probably assessing my worth now, Dokja assumed.
“You’re… a prophet?”
“If your highness considers visions of possible future events during moments of unconsciousness as prophetic,” he went on faking nonchalance,” then, yes. I’m a prophet.
He wasn’t lying. In fact, these were half-truths.
The person on front of him had become an overly cautious person after many years of trials and tribulations. He was a beast who had learned the scent of lies.
This Rose’s thorns are far too sharp, he glanced at the flower he’d pricked his finger on, then back at his assailant, I must be careful.
A minute passed by in silent appraisal.
“Then,” Hyuk-ah’s left eyebrow twitched, his gaze was set and final, “I have two final questions.”
“Ask away, your majesty,” Dokja was curious now, the situation had seemed to stabilize towards his favour now. He’d surmised that a question would be given but, he was surprised that there was another.
“What was your relationship to the woman who had been here this morning?”
“..?”
Huh? Dokja looked at him in utter confusion, what woman? “There was a woman?” he muttered.
“Alright,” Hyuk-ie’s eyes had a cool countenance as he continued, “It seems you don’t know what I’m referring to. So, I’ll let it go just this once.”
Belatedly, Dokja was reminded of the woman with the scratch marks… Now a few things were starting to make sense. But a question arose, who was that woman?
“Second question,” Joonghyuk-ah dragged him out of his thoughts.
“Hm?”
“If you are really a prophet, you should know your future. Isn’t that right?”
The moment Dokja saw Joonghyuk’s serene eyes, goosebumps broke out on his skin. Whatever it was this psychopath came up with, Dokja was certain he wouldn’t like it.
The grip around his neck adjusted and he was held a little higher up in the air.
His senses heightened at this moment and time seemed to move slower. A gentle breeze flew in from somewhere; it made a soft whistling sound as it slipped through narrow cracks. The scents of the roses were almost overwhelming to him at this moment.
Yoo Joonghyuk looked at him with unreadable eyes and opened his mouth.
“Will I let go of this hand, or won’t I?”
For the first time since their meeting, Dokja started sweating, he closed his eyes and thought for a moment. Afterall, who could understand this person better than him.
Still calculating, he started, “I’ll set three conditions first.”
After a moment of consideration Joonghyuk asked, “...what?”
He opened his eyes and stared him head on.
“First, I’m not your subordinate. So, I hope you will treat me fairly from now on.”
“…”
“Second, I will cooperate with you but you also have to promise to cooperate with me.”
Joonghyuk looked at him with interest and nodded.
“Lastly,” he took a breath to calm his nerves, “I need to be treated as an equal. So, let me drop the honorifics. Unless, you want me to continue bugging you about it, your majesty.”
“…Fine,” although the tone seemed be grudging, there seemed to be small twitch at the edge of his lips. Dokja supposed it was a trick of the light.
“Is that all?”
“For now? Pretty much.” That earned him a half-hearted glare.
“Well, what’s your answer?”
Dokja replied with a smile, “Let go and get lost already, you damn son of a bitch.”
Immediately, the power holding him disappeared. He entered a free fall.
He managed to get a glimpse of Yoo Joonghyuk’s face for a moment. He was smiling brightly, like something made him happy.
Son of a bitch.
The last thing he heard before he lost consciousness was that guy’s voice.
“I believe you. You are definitely a prophet.”