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petalsscribbles · 14 days ago

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ⓘㅤ 𝐌𝐔𝐒𝐄. ⠀⠀( 你是我的命运。)

͏𝒮ummary “ ✉. 𝖫𝗈𝗏𝖾 𝗍𝗂𝖾𝖽 𝗂𝗇 𝖻𝗅𝗈𝗈𝖽, 𝖾𝗋𝖺𝗌𝖾𝖽 𝖻𝗒 𝖺𝗋𝗋𝗈𝗀𝖺𝗇𝖼𝖾 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝖺 𝖼𝗈𝗇𝗍𝗋𝖺𝖼𝗍 𝗍𝗁𝖺𝗍 𝖾𝗇𝖽𝖾𝖽 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗅𝗂𝖿𝖾 𝗈𝖿 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝖻𝖾𝗅𝗈𝗏𝖾𝖽. 𝖭𝗈𝗐 𝗁𝖾 𝗁𝖺𝗌 𝖽𝖾𝗌𝗍𝗂𝗇𝗒 𝗂𝗇 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗁𝖺𝗇𝖽𝗌 𝖺𝗀𝖺𝗂𝗇 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗁𝖾 𝗐𝗂𝗅𝗅 𝖽𝗈 𝗐𝗁𝖺𝗍 𝗁𝖾 𝗐𝖺𝗌 𝖺𝖿𝗋𝖺𝗂𝖽 𝗍𝗈 𝖽𝗈 𝖺𝗍 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗍𝗂𝗆𝖾. 𝖧𝖺𝗏𝖾 𝗒𝗈𝗎.

⠀،،⠀𝒢𝑒𝑛𝑟𝑒. ’ 𝖲𝗎𝗀𝗀𝖾𝗌𝗍𝗂𝗏𝖾, 𝖿𝖺𝗇𝗍𝖺𝗌𝗒, 𝖽𝗋𝖺𝖻𝖻𝗅𝖾, smau.

( 𝒄/𝒘. )───𝖬𝖾𝗇𝗍𝗂𝗈𝗇 𝗈𝖿 𝖻𝗅𝗈𝗈𝖽 (𝗆𝗂𝗅𝖽), 𝖺𝗋𝗋𝖺𝗇𝗀𝖾𝖽 𝗆𝖺𝗋𝗋𝗂𝖺𝗀𝖾, 𝗁𝗂𝖽𝖽𝖾𝗇 𝗅𝗈𝗏𝖾.

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In the shadowy corridors of the palace, where candlelight barely managed to tear through the veil of darkness, Sunghoon moved with the haunting grace of a prince carrying a destiny as heavy as the stone walls surrounding him. Each step echoed in the emptiness, his elegant, icy stride leaving a trail of silence and reverence, as if even the air feared to touch him.

Since his youth, Sunghoon had learned to wrap his soul in a box of ice, a perfect mask of arrogance that kept him distant, unreachable. The whispers in the hallways followed him like an echo in the twilight, murmuring with fear and envy, yet no one dared to cross the invisible line he imposed. However, there was one soul who managed to dissolve that barrier as effortlessly as starlight pierces the night’s darkness.

[…], the young servant whose presence seemed to draw sparks of life into the palace's cold, lifeless heart, was the only one capable of seeing the true Sunghoon. With him, in those hidden corners, far from watchful eyes, the unbreakable prince revealed his fragility, as if in the shelter of his presence he could shed his icy armor.

There, where the palace’s whispers faded and time itself seemed to pause, Sunghoon gazed at him with a devotion that bordered on celestial; with […], he was vulnerable and ardent, letting himself be consumed by a love that knew no bounds.

To him, […] was more than a lover; he was his anchor in an ocean of shadows, the only glimmer of warmth in his desolate existence. In […]’s eyes, he saw a world where he could be human, where every touch and every glance built a home.

Sunghoon knew that for […], he would sacrifice everything, even his own kingdom of shadows, because without him, the palace was nothing more than a glorious, cold tomb.

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But in the cold and cruel reality, Sunghoon knew that his love for […] was his own damnation.

As a prince, he was trapped in an unyielding fate, bound to marry a woman to ensure the continuation of the dynasty. This responsibility was a poison that consumed him day and night, a constant reminder of the betrayal that his title imposed upon him.

The mere thought of being unfaithful to his beloved, even if only in appearance, tore at his soul. So he swore to himself, with the fervor of one who binds his life to a vow, that he would rather die than break the purity of his devotion. That promise became his greatest burden and, at the same time, the reason he kept moving forward.

The day of his wedding was one of the darkest moments in Sunghoon’s life. Amidst the opulence of the palace, surrounded by nobles and murmurs of approval, he spoke his vows, yet in his mind, every word was directed to […]. Every syllable, every oath, belonged to him, as if he could immortalize his secret love within the echo of those hollow promises.

His wife, a noblewoman with a kind heart, would never know love within their marriage. Sunghoon maintained an impeccable distance, fulfilling only the façade, ensuring that neither desire nor affection would ever cross that invisible threshold.

To fulfill the demands of the crown without tainting his vow, he discreetly hired a man to father the heirs expected of him, thus preserving the sanctity of his promise to […].

But fate, cruel and relentless, had other plans.

Upon learning of the engagement that would bind their lives in a pretense of loyalty, [...] felt something break within.

He couldn’t bear the thought of losing Sunghoon, of watching him live beside someone else, even if his love for him remained untouched. The torment of this prospect pushed him to the edge.

Days of silent despair and nights of loneliness piled up until they became unbearable.

The young servant, who had silently endured the weight of a forbidden love and the pain of an impossible future, finally broke. [...] knew that this sentence was a cruel imposition, that the weight of such an obligation would destroy Sunghoon, leaving him hollow, robbing him of his very soul.

Unable to endure the thought of becoming a constant reminder of that curse, and convinced that his love would never be more than a burden, he came to the conclusion that only death could free him and grant Sunghoon a peace he could never otherwise find.

In his final moments before making his decision, [...] summoned a courage tinged with sadness and wrote a letter. With trembling hands and tears staining the paper, he allowed his heart to speak in each word, letting his consuming pain and boundless love pour forth, transforming his suffering into a near-divine plea. Each sentence was a farewell, an echo of the devotion that could never die, even when he would leave this world.

“I cannot live without you, and I know that you cannot truly live with me under these circumstances. I would rather be your final breath than a weight you carry in your heart.”

That letter, steeped in love and tragedy, was the last thing [...] left behind, a ghost destined to haunt Sunghoon’s life forever.

When Sunghoon found [...], the world stopped spinning, and with it, all sense of reality vanished.

In an instant, every wall of self-control and coldness he had built over the years as an untouchable, distant prince crumbled, exposing a pain so profound it seemed to tear the air around him.

[...] lay on the floor of his private room, surrounded by a pool of blood that, to Sunghoon, seemed like the final sacrifice of a love that had given everything, down to its last breath.

The palace walls seemed to absorb his suffering, silent witnesses to the tragedy now engulfing the prince.

Shaking, Sunghoon knelt beside [...]’s lifeless body. His hands hesitated, almost fearing to touch his beloved and confirm that the warmth they once shared had vanished forever.

[...]’s face lay still, his skin cold as marble, pale as the moon on a starless night. The light that once shone in his eyes, that spark of love and hope that had sustained Sunghoon in his darkest moments, was now extinguished, leaving only a trace of dried tears on his cheeks.

His fingers still clutched a letter, crumpled and marked with the imprint of his desperation—a testament of eternal love and boundless sorrow.

With trembling hands, Sunghoon took the letter and read each word, feeling his own life slip away as he grasped [...]’s sacrifice.

It was as if the entire world was collapsing around him, and each farewell phrase echoed in his mind like the shattering of a promise, a vow of love he could never fulfill.

Collapsing, he held his beloved’s body against his chest, clinging to him as if that desperate embrace could merge them, blur the line between life and death, and bring him back. But brutal reality gripped him tightly.

In that moment, the weight of eternity without [...] became a real abyss, pulling him into an impossible void.

Then, a heart-wrenching scream escaped his lips, breaking the silence of the palace and echoing like a soul-tearing lament. That voice, once a symbol of authority and control, now shattered in a desperate plea, in an uncontrollable sob.

Sunghoon’s tears fell onto [...]’s motionless face as he murmured broken words of eternal love, shattered promises, and unanswered pleas, as if the pain in his heart could defy death itself.

Each tear, each whisper was a powerless cry, a fierce longing to challenge fate, a silent plea to a cruel universe that had taken away the only light ever to illuminate his shadows.

And there, in the dimness of that cold room, Sunghoon understood he had lost something irreplaceable, and in the silence that followed his weeping, only the eternal emptiness of a love that could never die remained.

From that moment on, Sunghoon was never the same; his eyes lost their spark, and his soul, consumed by guilt and sorrow, became a wandering shadow, seeking a solace that would never come.

For him, [...]’s death was the true end, and his own existence became an eternal punishment, a reminder of a love that survived even beyond death itself.

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ

In the present day, Sunghoon remained the cold, distant being he had learned to be, but those who truly knew him understood that this coldness concealed depths of emotion few could imagine.

He had perfected the art of indifference, projecting an impenetrable image that made those around him regard him with respect, fear, and, in many cases, admiration—just as in his days as an emperor.

To the world, he was the unattainable one, the quiet member of a popular group on the university campus, consisting of six other young immortals, each with a past as dark and enigmatic as his own.

These eternal companions were his allies, and together, they embodied a magnetic, mysterious presence that granted them an untouchable status.

No one dared to come too close, no one attempted to cross the invisible barrier that surrounded them. And this was precisely what Sunghoon had desired for centuries.

After the tragedy with [...], he had learned never to allow anyone to break that distance, which protected him from any further loss.

But everything changed one morning like any other.

Sunghoon was in class, listening to the professor’s words, lost in his usual icy calm, when a peculiar scent suddenly invaded his senses—a scent he had sworn he would never encounter again. It was a familiar and painfully intense aroma, the same one he had chased for centuries, filling his dreams and haunting his sleepless nights.

The classroom door opened, and a young man walked in, completely unaware of the turmoil he was about to unleash.

Sunghoon could barely control the surprise that crossed his usually impassive face. His dead heart seemed to beat once more as he looked at the newcomer, who radiated the same essence that had once belonged to [...]—the essence he had thought lost forever.

It was as if time had stopped, as if every second of his hellish life had been only a wait for this precise moment.

The young man, unknowingly, was enveloped in the same fragrance, in the same aura of warmth that had once been Sunghoon’s emotional home.

His features were so similar, so vivid, that the prince almost feared it was an illusion, a cruel manifestation of his own longing to see him again.

But it wasn’t.

That being, whoever he was, had the same gaze, the same face, the same essence as Sunghoon’s one true love.

The young man looked around, scanning the classroom with a carefree expression, until his eyes met Sunghoon's. In that instant, the entire world disappeared.

The hardness that had kept him whole over the centuries began to crack; the pain, the agony, the longing he had suppressed returned with a devastating force, hitting him with every second he held that gaze.

Sunghoon felt the love he had buried so deeply resurface, mixed with an unbearable agony that almost made him collapse in his seat.

He had to approach him, he had to speak to him, he had to know if perhaps... could it be possible that his love had returned? Could this young man be a reincarnation of [...], or just someone with his same appearance, destined to torment him for eternity?

But doubt tore at him.

What if it was only a cruel, vivid dream? What if this young man was nothing more than a coincidence, a stranger who shared none of the memories or feelings Sunghoon had held onto for centuries? What if he tried to speak to him and discovered that those eyes, so clearly reminiscent of [...], were empty of recognition?

Yet a deep, almost desperate need drove him.

It was an opportunity he had never imagined he would have again, and the thought of letting it slip away was as unbearable as the possibility that he was only a stranger.

The professor interrupted his thoughts by introducing the new student. "[...], you can sit next to Sunghoon; it looks like there’s an empty seat there."

The name echoed in Sunghoon’s mind like an endless refrain, a forgotten melody that suddenly returned, unearthing emotions he had buried deep within his soul.

Destiny? Coincidence? In that moment, it mattered little. He only felt that the entire world had compressed into the short distance [...] walked toward the empty seat beside him.

With each step the young man took toward him, Sunghoon felt the nonexistent beat of his heart like a frantic drum. The air seemed to thicken, and he had to fight to keep his expression calm.

His friends, silent and attentive, watched him discreetly, their eyes reflecting a tacit understanding. They knew the story, knew what [...] had been in his life and what his loss had meant.

Sunghoon maintained his composure, though inside, a storm of emotions tore through him. Pain, hope, the desperate urge to believe in the impossible—all of it swirled together, so intensely that he almost trembled.

Finally, [...] sat beside him, and Sunghoon closed his eyes for a moment, allowing himself a brief second of peace.

After centuries of darkness, a light had returned to his life. But that light brought with it the shadow of his love—a love that had been his salvation, betrayal, and condemnation; a desire that had consumed him and now rekindled with a burning intensity.

Sunghoon opened his eyes and glanced at him out of the corner of his eye. There he was, so close that he could feel his breathing, the warmth of his body, the unmistakable essence he had desperately sought in every corner of time.

And in that instant, unnoticed by anyone, Sunghoon vowed that this time he would not lose him, no matter what eternity had in store.

But, at the same time, a doubt lingered in the depths of his being: what if this [...] was only a reflection, a different being who merely bore the appearance and soul of the one he still loved madly? What if, by getting too close, that perfect illusion would vanish, leaving only the emptiness of an eternal absence?

As the class continued, Sunghoon felt the weight of that uncertainty pulsing through his veins.

He knew he was risking more than his own peace, something deeper than the simple longing for a reunion.

And though the desire to speak to him consumed him, to search his eyes for a spark of recognition, he dared not move, not even to breathe.

Until, in a moment of apparent coincidence, [...] turned his head slightly, and their gazes met. In his eyes, Sunghoon thought he saw something—a fleeting connection, a barely perceptible glimmer, but enough to shake his foundations.

The young man smiled, a brief and enigmatic smile, as if they shared a secret the world had yet to understand.

It was such a subtle gesture that Sunghoon felt his cold heart waver once more, caught between hope and fear.

And for the first time in centuries, Sunghoon felt that eternity might be a place worth existing, worth living in.

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