Chapter Text
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The blood-curdling scream echoed once again through the towering, intricately carved halls of Hanyang, the largest and most formidable kingdom in Goguryeo. The sound was muffled slightly by the heavy stone walls but was unmistakable to anyone within the palace. For most, the cry was not surprising. These screams had become a chilling rhythm of life in the castle, marking the punishment of yet another servant, valet, or unfortunate omega who had dared to cross a line drawn by the royal consort, Lady Miyeon.
Lady Miyeon, the Royal Omega Consort of King Kim Taehyung, ruled the inner palace with an iron fist. Behind her delicate, noble façade lay a cunning and cruel heart. Born to a line of noble blood, she was the daughter of General Park Hanmin, the brilliant military strategist who had expanded Hansang’s dominance, granting Hanyang unprecedented control over the surrounding kingdoms of Goguryeo. Her father had been a trusted confidant of the late King Kim Taesoo, and through this connection, Miyeon had grown up within the royal castle, her childhood intertwined with that of Taehyung, the fifth and youngest prince. Their marriage happened when Taehyung access to the throne.
It was said that Taehyung had fallen for her when he was only 14, captivated by her elegance and sharp wit. By the time he ascended the throne at twenty, following the sudden death of his father, he had already resolved to make her his queen. Despite the absence of a soul bond between them—a glaring truth evidenced by the unmarked skin of Miyeon’s neck—Taehyung refused to accept that there could be an omega who’s fated to him
Miyeon was not just a consort ; she was a shadow ruler, wielding immense influence over every facet of Hanyang’s governance. Her whispers carried more weight than the shouts of the kingdom’s ministers. Even the council of elders dared not challenge her authority. Miyeon’s control over Taehyung was absolute. When she decreed the beheading of an omega who had dared to talk back to her, Taehyung had ordered it without a moment’s hesitation. The fear she commanded was rivaled only by that of the king himself.
Despite her cold and calculating nature, Miyeon was beautiful. Her beauty was regal and refined, her porcelain skin unblemished and her dark eyes sharp as a hawk’s. She carried herself with an air of supremacy, her head always held high, her every movement deliberate and precise. She was both envied and hated by the palace staff and the omegas of the royal harem, who bore the brunt of her jealousy and cruelty.
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King Taehyung was a stark contrast to his father. Where King Kim Taesoo had been known for his gentle, diplomatic approach and his enduring bond with the people, Taehyung was a ruler feared for his strength and relentless will. Standing tall and imposing, his physical appearance was nothing short of mesmerizing. His jet-black hair was short and always neat, framing a face that seemed carved by the gods themselves. His golden eyes—an anomaly among Alphas—shone with an otherworldly intensity, hinting at the rare, pure-blooded lineage he carried.
Legends spoke of the prophecy surrounding him. It was said that the Alpha with golden eyes would have a mate destined to bear the same golden gaze, a pairing that would lead to an era of unparalleled prosperity. Yet, Taehyung had dismissed the prophecy, convinced that Miyeon was his one true omega despite the absence of a mate mark. The bond they shared, in his mind, was deeper than any mark could prove.
But Taehyung’s unparalleled Alpha blood came with its own challenges. His ruts were powerful, uncontrollable, and prolonged, lasting a grueling ten days. During these times, his strength and desire reached dangerous levels, necessitating the presence of multiple omegas to sate him. The royal harem was stocked with omegas specifically chosen for this purpose, their role strictly confined to serving the king’s needs. No omega was permitted to bear his child. The consequences of such an act were dire and absolute.
Lady Eunbi, a delicate and soft-spoken omega from the harem, had been among the three selected to accompany the king during his most recent rut. Unlike the others, Eunbi had allowed her emotions to cloud her judgment. She had fallen in love with the king—a dangerous and foolish sentiment for someone in her position. When presented with the herbal concoction designed to prevent conception, she had secretly poured it away, harboring a desperate hope that carrying Taehyung’s child might secure her a place in his heart.
Her betrayal did not remain hidden for long. The palace herbalist, a sharp-eyed woman loyal to Lady Miyeon, noticed the absence of the telltale signs of the herb’s effects on Eunbi. Lady Miyeon was informed immediately, and it was not long before Eunbi’s growing belly betrayed her. The punishment was swift and brutal. Miyeon demanded retribution, claiming that Eunbi’s audacity threatened the sanctity of the royal lineage.
The screams that now echoed through the castle were Eunbi’s. She was dragged to the public square within the palace grounds, her cries piercing the air as she was beaten and humiliated before the gathered staff and harem mmembers. Lady Miyeon watched from her elevated seat, her expression cold and impassive, as Eunbi was stripped of her title and condemned. The child she carried was declared illegitimate, and its fate sealed.
Miyeon, observed the proceedings with a stoic expression. She showed no sign of mercy or hesitation, her blue eyes fixed on the scene below. To her, Eunbi’s actions were a betrayal of the order she had worked so hard to maintain. The harem existed to serve, not to love. Those who overstepped their bounds had to face the consequences.
As the punishment concluded, whispers spread through the palace. The prophecy had not been forgotten, and many wondered if Taehyung’s refusal to seek his true mate would bring doom upon Hanyang. Yet, none dared voice these thoughts aloud. Miyeon’s control was too strong, and Taehyung’s will was absolute.
In the silence that followed Eunbi’s screams, the atmosphere within Hanyang grew heavier. The halls of the palace seemed darker, the air thicker with tension. The golden-eyed king sat on his throne, a figure of power and fear, while Lady Miyeon stood at his side, her shadow stretching long and oppressive over all who dared to defy her.
The cries faded into silence, leaving only the echo of agony lingering in the vast courtyard of Hanyang. Taehyung remained seated on his throne, his golden eyes fixed on the spectacle below. The tension in the air was palpable, yet the king’s expression betrayed nothing. Beside him, Lady Miyeon sat with a satisfied air, her lips curling into a faint smile as the guards dragged Lady Eunbi’s limp, bloodied form away.
The silence was heavy, pressing down like an invisible weight. From the corner of his eye, Taehyung caught the anxious glances of the ministers and courtiers standing in neat rows beneath the dais. They awaited his next move, his word to break the suffocating stillness. But Taehyung did not speak. He sat as if carved from stone, the golden hue of his eyes dimming beneath the weight of his unspoken thoughts.
He rose slowly, his every movement deliberate, commanding attention without uttering a single word. His robes of dark crimson and gold trailed behind him, a striking symbol of power. “Let this be a lesson to all who serve in these halls,” his voice cut through the air, cold and sharp. “The rules of this palace are absolute. Disobedience will not be tolerated.”
His words drew murmurs of agreement from the gathered crowd, yet there was no mistaking the unease that flickered in their eyes. Even Lady Miyeon straightened slightly, her hand brushing against the edge of his sleeve as if to anchor herself to his power.
But Taehyung did not acknowledge her. He descended the steps of the dais, his boots clicking against the polished stone, and the crowd parted instinctively, bowing their heads as he passed.
He strode through the palace halls, their grandeur unchanging despite the storm that raged quietly within him. The screams of Lady Eunbi replayed in his mind, mingling with the distant echoes of countless others who had suffered under his command. He clenched his fists, the leather of his gloves creaking softly. It was necessary, he told himself, as he always did. Necessary to maintain order. Necessary to uphold the image of the infallible king.
Yet, deep within him, something churned—a feeling he could not name. It was faint, barely a whisper against the roar of his duty, but it was there, gnawing at the edges of his resolve.
As he turned into a secluded corridor, his pace slowed. The golden rays of the setting sun spilled through the arched windows, casting his shadow long and dark against the floor. He paused, his gaze fixed on the horizon beyond the palace walls.
For a moment, he allowed himself to wonder.
What if things had been different ?
What if he had not been born with the burden of golden eyes and a prophecy he refused to believe ?
What if his mate, his true mate, were out there, waiting ?
But no. He shoved the thought away. Miyeon was his omega, his chosen consort. She was the only one who could match his ruthlessness, the only one who understood the weight of his crown. To question that bond, to doubt her place at his side, was a weakness he could not afford.
He inhaled deeply, his jaw tightening as he turned his back to the window. As much as he longed to linger in the quiet, he knew he could not. The palace, the kingdom, demanded his presence. His steps resumed their measured rhythm, and the façade of the ruthless king slipped back into place.
By the time he returned to the council chamber, the hint of vulnerability that had flickered in his eyes was gone. Taehyung sat at the head of the long table, his golden gaze sweeping over the ministers gathered before him.
“Begin,” he commanded, his tone brooking no argument.
And so the wheels of the kingdom turned on, the weight of Hanyang’s crown pressing down upon his shoulders as Taehyung buried his doubts beneath layers of cold authority.
But deep within him, the question remained, unspoken and unanswered : What would it mean to truly be free ?
~~~☆~~~
The midday sun filtered through the high, ornate windows of the castle, casting long streaks of light across the cold stone floors. Jeon Jungkook’s hands were raw and chapped from hours of scrubbing. So hard for a 18 years old. The water in his bucket long turned murky with dirt. His small, lithe figure moved with practiced efficiency, bending and straightening as he cleaned the marble hallway leading to the royal concubines’ wing.
Two years. Two grueling years had passed since he was accepted into the palace as a maidservant, at the age of 16—a position that had felt like a lifeline at the time but had quickly turned into a sentence. The once-proud son of the noble Jeon family, now reduced to scrubbing floors, mending clothes, and enduring the disdain of nearly everyone around him.
His father’s disgrace weighed heavily on his shoulders, even after all these years. Accused of treason against the Kingdom of Hanyang, Jeon Hyunsoo had been stripped of his title, his lands confiscated, and his family cast out. Jungkook knew the truth—his father had been framed. The evidence was fabricated, and the Jeon family’s fall from grace had been orchestrated by their rivals in court. But the truth did not matter in a world ruled by power and perception.
Jungkook’s life in the palace was a cruel reminder of his lowly status as a male omega.
Omegas were already regarded as inferior to alphas and betas, valued only for their ability to bear children and serve as companions to powerful alphas.
But a male omega ? They were considered even worse—a burden to the natural order, an aberration in a society that prized strength and utility.
In the royal palace, this disdain was amplified. The other servants avoided him, whispering behind his back about his rarity, his uselessness. The concubines sneered at him, quick to assign him the dirtiest, most degrading tasks.
Lady Miyeon herself had once remarked, in a voice loud enough for him to hear, that “male omegas should not even exist.”
Jungkook bore it all in silence. He had no choice. His family’s survival depended on the meager wages he sent back to his siblings, Seojoon and Soyeon, who struggled to make ends meet in the outskirts of the kingdom. His older brother, an alpha, worked as a blacksmith, while Soyeon took in sewing work from the local villagers. They had been nobles once—respected, admired. Now, they lived like peasants, scraping by on scraps.
Each day in the palace was a test of endurance. From dawn till dusk, Jungkook toiled endlessly. His duties ranged from cleaning the vast halls to laundering the royal garments, his hands blistered and calloused from constant work. The concubines were especially cruel, taking pleasure in making his life as miserable as possible.
“Jungkook, you missed a spot,” one of them snapped, pointing to an invisible speck on the floor. He bit back his retort, bowing his head as he bent to scrub again.
Another time, one of the concubines tripped him deliberately, sending the tray of tea he was carrying crashing to the ground. “Clumsy fool,” she hissed, her eyes narrowing in disdain.
He apologized, as always, swallowing his pride and cleaning up the mess under her watchful, mocking gaze.
However, the best moments came when he crossed paths with the king himself.
King Kim Taehyung. The very name filled Jungkook with admiration. The young king was everything Jungkook loved —a man of immense power and privilege who wielded his authority with an iron fist. Taehyung was ruthless, feared by his enemies and his own subjects alike. His golden eyes and sleek black fur marked him as a pure-blooded alpha, a rarity that only elevated his status further.
Jungkook loved him for his strength, his cruelty, and his attend to the suffering of others. He hated the way Taehyung carried himself, as though the world itself existed to serve him. Most of all, he hated the omegas who got the privilege to stand close to him
It was Taehyung’s decree that had condemned Jungkook’s father, his signature on the document that sealed the Jeon family’s fate. And though Jungkook knew the truth—that it was the scheming of court nobles that had orchestrated his father’s downfall—he could not blame the king.
To Taehyung, Jungkook was invisible. The king had never so much as glanced his way, never acknowledged his existence. But that did not stop Jungkook squirming everytime their paths crossed, his hands balling into fists at his sides as he bowed low in submission.
As the sun dipped below the horizon, Jungkook finally returned to his small, cramped quarters in the servants’ wing. His body ached, his hands throbbed, and his heart felt heavy with the weight of another day endured.
Sitting on the edge of his narrow cot, he allowed himself a moment of reprieve, closing his eyes and imagining a different life. In his dreams, he was free—free from the palace, free from the hatred and cruelty that surrounded him. He dreamed of clearing his father’s name, of restoring the Jeon family’s honor. He dreamed of a world where his rank as a male omega did not define him.
But as the cold night air seeped through the cracks in the walls, reality returned with brutal clarity. For now, all he could do was survive.
Jungkook clenched his fists, his jaw tightening with resolve. One day, he promised himself. One day, he would escape this life. One day, he would make them all see the worth they had denied him. Until then, he would endure. Because that was all he could do.
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The sun had barely risen when Jungkook was summoned to the concubine wing. His heart sank at the unexpected call, knowing that nothing good ever came from being singled out by the royal omega consort, Lady Miyeon. As he walked down the grand corridors, the whispers of other servants trailed behind him. Most looked at him with pity ; some, with smugness. He tried to steel himself for what lay ahead, but his hands trembled faintly as he pushed open the heavy doors to the wing’s main hall.
Inside, Lady Miyeon stood at the center, her imposing figure radiating authority. Around her were dozens of other servants—omegas and betas, all nervously fidgeting as they awaited their fates. Miyeon’s sharp eyes scanned the crowd with the precision of a predator, her gaze stopping on Jungkook. A smirk played on her lips.
“You,” she said, her voice like silk laced with venom. “Step forward. You look young, how old are you?" Lady Miyeon remarked,
Jungkook obeyed, his head bowed. He felt the weight of everyone’s stares, the murmurs buzzing like flies around him.
"I'm 18 years old, your highness"
“As part of the concubine wing’s reorganization, I have decided that only the most capable will serve the favored ladies,” Miyeon announced, her tone commanding. “You should consider it an honor to be chosen.”
Jungkook’s stomach churned. He could already feel the trap closing in around him.
“You will serve Lady Sana,” Miyeon declared, her voice dripping with mockery. “She has been… dissatisfied with her previous maids. Let us hope you fare better.”
The room erupted in hushed murmurs. Lady Sana was notorious for her temper and impossible demands. No servant lasted long in her service. Jungkook clenched his fists at his sides, swallowing the lump of dread rising in his throat. But he said nothing, merely bowing low in acknowledgment.
What choice did he have ?