How To Kill A King:

Episode 12:

Min-jun didn’t sleep that night, caught between anger and fear all clawing at his insides. The King knew of Min-jun’s feelings for him. Did he know more than that? It wouldn’t take much for him to arrive at the conclusion that Min-jun intended to kill him. The King had chalked it up to judgment, nothing more, nothing less. Something in Min-jun gave him away. 

His maid entered just after sunrise, wearing a radiant smile and pristine pink and blue hanbok. “Your Highness, it’s time to – oh, you’re already awake, Highness.”

“Jeong-eun, right?” Min-jun said, setting his book aside. “Did you sleep well?”

“Oh.” She halted in her steps, and then continued on her way, placing the clothes in her hands on the other side of the bed. “Yes, very well. The palace has always provided comfort for us, as I’m sure it will for you. Would you like to get ready? Breakfast will arrive shortly.”

“Yes, I suppose there’s no point in waiting around. I can dress by myself, so could you wait for me outside?” 

She bowed a dancer’s grace in her movements. “Of course, your Highness.” With that, Jeong-eun whirled back into the other room, closing the doors on her way out. Min-jun breathed a sigh of relief, clutching a hand to the fabric above his heart. He should get used to this: Maids barging into his bedroom, ready to clothe and feed him as if he were a child, but he drew the line at being clothed by someone else. It brought back too many memories of his time in the brothel, memories better left forgotten.

He lifted up the ensemble that Jeong-eun had left for him. A blue vest with a white jacket underneath, and white pants. Quite plain. His tastes were usually a bit more refined but this would have to do for now. 

Disappearing behind the screen, he quickly dressed. His eyes scanned over the young man in the mirror, the elegance of his figure, the perfectly measured proportions of his face, the color in the blush of his cheeks. Indeed, Min-jun still looked beautiful in such a plain array. He was certain he could wear the most garish garb and people would continue to gawk at his beauty. As they should.

“Your Highness.” Jeong-eun greeted, placing a tray down on the lacquered table. “Your food has just arrived. The taste tester has tried it and everything seems to be in order.” 

A small token of reassurance when symptoms of food poisoning were often delayed, and there were so many creative ways to go about poisoning someone. Perhaps he should cook his own food, considering that half the court probably wants him dead and disgraced. Min-jun would have to do something about that. It wouldn’t do to have everyone against him from the beginning. If the King ever ended up dead, he’d be the first to face the executioner’s block. 

“You’ve received several gifts as well, your Highness,” Jeong-eun said, as he began to inspect the dishes with a rather skeptical eye. “It’s nice. I was worried people would be prejudiced against you because of your sangmin blood.”

Oh, they were still prejudiced alright. “Have they been inspected as well?”

“Yes, your Highness. All of them seem to be safe for your use.” 

Discarding them all would be preferable, but he couldn’t appear so wasteful to the public eye. He’d get rid of anything particularly suspicious, and keep the rest in some secluded place in his suite. 

“Bring them in then.”

The corners of Jeong-eun’s eyes crinkled in excitement, her smile being replaced by a grin. “Yes, your Highness!” She left the room, a bounce in her step. 

Min-jun poked at the rice they’d left him, gathered in a neat dome in a red bowl, not a grain out of place. What sorts of things might they have spiked it with? Perhaps he should make a trip to the kitchens.

He didn’t have long to ponder, because soon, Jeong-eun returned with a group of maids and court ladies holding presents. 

“Chae-won,” Jeong-eun said, to a young court lady with large doe eyes and freckles over her nose. “Step forward.” 

The woman clicked her tongue. “Who put you in charge?” The others urged her to go forward, undoubtedly wishing to avoid a scene in front of the King’s consort. Chae-won rolled her eyes and stepped forward to place a small parcel on the desk. “Your Majesty. A gift from Minister Ji Woo-jin.” 

Unraveling the twine holding the small parcel together, a small black box was revealed. Inside there was a white, almost ghostly powder. Cosmetics. Ones he was quite familiar with. Well, he was familiar with most of them. 

“Throw it away,” he said, placing it back on the other side of the table. “As thankful as I am for these gifts, I will not accept something that will permanently damage my health.”

“Damage your health?” Chae-won asked, raising one eerily perfect eyebrow in doubt. 

“These powders are made with lead. The symptoms are slow to appear but they’re difficult to avoid. I’d prefer to avoid them.” Besides, he was pretty enough as it was. He enjoyed makeup for the creativity it could foster, but he hated how people looked at him when he wore it. 

Chae-won seemed unimpressed still, but she took the small container off of the table, her ego hardly bruised. The other maids seemed nervous now. 

“Don’t worry,” he said, offering a charming smile. “I certainly won’t hold it against you if you offer me a poisoned present. None of you should hold it against yourselves either.”

The rest of the maids followed suit, handing him gifts one by one, waiting to hear his verdict. It became a bit of a show as if he were some performer evaluating artifacts and sharing his knowledge with the audience. He supposed he was, in a way. Though, really, it was dreadfully boring. Why were they sending him so many cosmetics anyway? They had no idea what he looked like or what sort of cosmetics suited him best. A complete waste of money if you asked him.

Eventually, however, his interest was piqued once more, by a little leather-bound book with the slightest discoloration between lines of elegant script. Invisible ink. Fresh as well. Someone had left him a message.

“Jeong-eun, could you fetch some candlelight for me?”