Chapter Three: You are hurting e poong
1327 Words
It had been four months since the king visited the shaman and stopped attending the morning meetings, ever since the unsettling moment he found himself in his room two months ago. His time was now predominantly spent with his wife. If he wasn't in her room, he would send for her. The queen, heavily pregnant, sensed a shift; the king's behavior had become erratic, unfamiliar. One night, during dinner, she gathered the courage to confront him.
"Poong," she called, her voice soft yet laced with concern.
"Yes?" He responded, his attention momentarily diverted to the soup.
"Why have you been acting strangely lately?"
"Strange? No reason," he replied casually, testing the soup's flavor.
"Hmm, delicious. I apologize if I've made you uncomfortable. I truly am sorry," he added, sipping his hot tea. She detected a hint of annoyance in his voice.
"No, that's not it. I'm just curious. I cherish every moment with you, but your recent behavior feels like a farewell."
He nearly choked on his drink, caught off guard by her observation.
"Do I give off that impression? I'm sorry. I should retire for the night. Goodnight," he abruptly stood, hastily leaving without allowing her to respond.
Since that evening, she refrained from probing further, sensing his discomfort whenever she broached the topic. Yet, one day, she mustered the courage to inquire again.
"I apologize, Your Majesty, but I must know why you've ceased attending the morning meetings," she ventured, finding him alone one morning.
He gazed at her, taking in her night robe and the cascade of dark hair adorning her shoulder. His eyes lingered on her natural red lips before meeting her gaze.
"Why do you stare at me like that?"
"You look resplendent tonight," he remarked, unable to tear his gaze away. She understood his reluctance to address her query.
"Please, tell me why," she persisted.
"You're asking about the morning meetings. Morning... what is that? Ah, yes, the morning meetings. You are referring to them," he chuckled.
She lay back, ignoring his laughter, shutting her eyes in annoyance.
One morning, the Prime Minister visited the king's chamber, fortunate that the queen was absent. After the chief eunuch announced his arrival, the king initially rebuffed him but relented, allowing him entry.
The Prime Minister found the king seated on his bed, elbows propped on his knees, his face cradled in his palms.
"You seem in good spirits, Your Majesty," he observed, entering and bowing respectfully.
"You know I detest this formality. How many times must I remind you? No need for bows between us. We are friends, after all," the king chided gently.
"But, Your Majesty—"
"No 'buts.' If you also conform to others' expectations, I might as well relinquish the throne."
"To whom?" the Prime Minister inquired, amused.
"Don't jest. You know my capabilities—or lack thereof," the king retorted, a smirk tugging at his lips.
"May I sit before you resume your grievances, Mr. Complainer?" the Prime Minister teased, struggling to suppress his laughter, even as tears threatened.
"Forgive me. Please, take a seat," the king gestured, turning the chair towards him before the Prime Minister sat.
"Why have you stopped attending morning meetings?" the Prime Minister broached the sensitive topic.
"Morning... you're still fixated on mornings. How amusing," the king mused.
"Your Majesty—"
"This world is fraught with terrors. I find myself adrift, unsure of my path," the king confessed, burying his face in his hands. The Prime Minister, sharing his despondency, remained silent as tears welled in their eyes.
Suddenly, the room's temperature surged, the air thickening with heat. Sensing the escalating tension, the Prime Minister intervened.
"Please, Your Majesty, don't blame yourself. It wasn't your fault," he implored, attempting to diffuse the situation.
"Don't worry, Poong. I've always followed your lead, but now you must heed mine. It wasn't your fault. Stop tormenting yourself," the Prime Minister urged, his voice tinged with concern.
"You'll hurt me too. You know I can't bear to see you suffer. If you wish to avoid future regret, calm yourself," he pleaded, his face etched with worry.
"Our parents perished because of me, and now the woman I love faces the same fate. I cannot choose between them. Why her? Why?" the king lamented bitterly, his anguish palpable, emitting an intense heat that engulfed the chamber.
Realizing the imminent danger, the Prime Minister rushed to his side, embracing him tightly as the flames licked at their surroundings.
"Poong, you're hurting me," he cried out weakly as the king struggled against him. By the time the king regained composure, half the chamber lay in ruin, and the Prime Minister lay injured.
Swiftly, the king carried him to the queen's chambers, where the queen, alarmed by the acrid scent of smoke, awaited them. Understanding the gravity of the situation, she instructed her maids to attend to their needs.
"Your Majesty," the Prime Minister addressed weakly as the king laid him on the queen's bed.
"Rest. That's an order," the king commanded gently, prompting the Prime Minister to close his eyes, succumbing to an unintended slumber.
Observing them from across the room, the queen handed the king a clean towel.
"He's the only one who stands by me, regardless of his own suffering. I can't bear to see him in pain. He knows that, which is why he resorted to this," the king explained, accepting the towel.
The queen nodded in understanding, settling into a chair as the king tended to his friend.
Hours later, the Prime Minister awoke, restored and seemingly unaffected by his earlier ordeal.
"You're awake?" the king greeted, a furrow forming on his brow, as if spoiling for an argument.
"I don't understand why you persist in acting like a child. I've made it clear: if you don't want to see me hurt, don't hurt yourself," the PM admonished, his tone firm.
"Thank you for the reminder that I'm just a child, a seventeen-year-old thrust onto the throne burdened with this responsibility," the king responded with misty eyes.
"You're not alone. I carry my own burdens. You needn't remind me," the PM retorted, his expression somber.
"During times like these, I'm particularly sensitive. Why approach me now after two months of avoidance?" the King queried, taken aback by the PM's sudden interest.
"What's troubling you?" the king inquired, cutting to the heart of the matter.
"I forgot. The ministers dispatched me to speak with you, as you've been evading them. They've refused to leave until they see you. They're still waiting," the Prime Minister admitted sheepishly.
"Regarding the shaman?"
"Yes."
"And you didn't inform them?"
"Why would I? It's not a conversation we wish to have, particularly given recent events. I've been avoiding them since our return. They caught me off guard today, which is why I'm here now," the Prime Minister explained.
"I believe it's best not to divulge the details to them," the king suggested thoughtfully.
"What will you do then?" the Prime Minister inquired.
"I'll inform them that I'll meet with them in two weeks. Until then, I'll devise a suitable explanation. And I'll need your assistance, as always. Your presence will be most welcome," the king concluded.
The Prime Minister nodded in agreement, relieved to have a plan in place. Together, they would navigate the delicate intricacies of court politics, ensuring that their secrets remained hidden and their bond unbroken.
As they prepared to face the challenges ahead, the queen watched from afar, her heart heavy with concern for her husband and his loyal friend. Yet, she took solace in their unwavering devotion to each other, knowing that no matter the trials they faced, they would emerge stronger together.
And so, as the sun rose on a new day, the king, the queen, and the Prime Minister stood united, ready to confront whatever obstacles lay in their path, bound by loyalty, duty, and a love that transcended even the darkest of times.
- Writer
