How To Kill A King:

Episode 11

Cheol didn’t know the significance of that familiarity, only that it had settled in the back of his mind and wouldn’t let go. The mystery refused to unravel itself as well, and so he was left with the distinct feeling that he should know this man, and had no memory to show for it, no proof for his suspicions. Then there was the fury in his consort's body, almost tangible. Cheol had been alive long enough to know when someone wanted him dead, and his consort burned with that desire every time he laid eyes on him. 

“I wanted to ask,” Cheol started. His consort busied himself on a quest to find a suitable vase for the flowers, his eyes eventually catching on a white porcelain one with blue vines spread across it. Crossing the room, he pulled a pair of scissors out of a drawer. He set the vase down on the table and took hold of the bouquet again. “Have we met before?”

It was only a momentary pause, but his consort hesitated long enough for Cheol to make note of it. “Only from afar, though I must admit distance did your beauty no justice.”

Oh, he was butchering those poor flowers, squashing stems and all. Cheol took his hand, the one with the scissors, and offered his other for the flowers. “Allow me.” His consort slowly relented. “You seemed familiar is all. I apologize if the question startled you.” 

“You don’t have to apologize,” his consort replied. “Do you enjoy gardening?”

“I do,” Cheol replied, smiling despite himself. “It reminds me of the time I spent with my mother. I find it a peaceful pastime. Do you have any water to put them in?”

“There’s a pitcher in my bedroom. I’ll go get it.”

“Much appreciated.” Cheol took one of the carnations out of the bunch, cutting the stem closer to the blossom, leaving just a few inches left. His consort soon returned, a glass pitcher in his hands. He poured some of it into the vase and then shoved the flowers in all at once, not caring for presentation. No sense of how to treat flora properly. Well, they’d work on that. 

“I have to wonder since we’ve never met.” Cheol put the saved blossom behind his consort’s ear. Their eyes met, and his consort seemed unsure of what to do with the carnation in his hair, his hand hovering over it. “Why do you hate me so much?”

His eyes widened, brown irises shifting in panic as if he were trying to find his way out of the situation. Interesting. It seemed his consort expected only the worst of him.

“What will you do now?” the consort asked, finally, his eyes falling to the open book on the table. 

“What do you mean?” 

His consort lifted his head, his face so grave that Cheol felt a little nervous. “Will you kill me?”

Of all the ridiculous proposals! Cheol laughed. “Why would I do something like that? Do you take me for a tyrant, my love?” 

He glared at him fully now, unwavering in his hatred. Refreshing, really. 

“Suppose you do.” Cheol leaned back on the palms of his hands, looking up at the painted ceiling. “I have no reason to kill you now. You’re already my consort, and I’ve gone to such great lengths to keep you safe. It would be such a waste. Wouldn’t you agree?” 

“So, you’re not going to do anything?” 

“Hmm, no. I wanted to make sure I was right, and now I have. I hold no ill will toward those who dislike me. So.” Cheol looked at him, taking in the maskless face, the anger inside finally bubbling to the surface. “What made you sign up for a lifetime of being wed to a person you despise?” 

His consort was tight-lipped, his gaze averted. So stubborn. 

Cheol stood, brushing the creases out of his hanbok. “Very well. Keep your secrets. I’ll find out soon enough.” His consort remained seated, not bothering to show him any of the courtesy he’d performed before. Cheol pursed his lips, unsure of what more to say. He opted for the truth. “And thank you. My day has become less disappointing in the time I’ve spent with you.” 

“How did you know?” 

“Pardon?” 

His consort rose to his feet as well, a scowl on his face where a coquettish smile had been before. “How did you know I hated you?”

Was that all? Such a temper. He must've been keeping it under lock and key for a long time. “I’m a King. I’ve gained an eye for these things. Don’t take it personally.” Cheol shrugged. “Your facade was decent. It just wasn’t enough.”

It was undeniable. His consort had flinched at the last word, for a second or less, his psyche fragmented. Cheol couldn't help the curiosity building within him, but he managed to stamp it down for the time being.

“And yet,” his consort said, his voice quiet and strained, “you’re still keeping me around.” He crossed his arms. “I hope you regret it.” With that, he walked away, storming off to the bedroom, only pausing to take the book he’d been reading off the desk. The single carnation blossom laid crumpled on the floor. He must've ripped it out of his hair on the way out. So careless. Cheol bent to pick it up, sighing. It seemed to heal within the palm of his hands, the tears and dark crinkles in the petals slowly repairing themselves.

No. Somehow, Cheol didn’t think he’d regret it at all.