Cries of Salvation (BL)

"Agrhhh!! That stupid old man! Why can't I be one of the many to serve Sir Noha!?"

Esei stomped her feet on the hardwood floor in an attempt to release her confined anger.

Dressed in one of her best garments, and carefully styled hair holding the scent of jasmine oil, she had happily gone to seek permission from the head of the Silk Pavilion to serve the esteemed guest.

But not only had the head rejected her offer, claiming he had no intention of offending the guest with inexperienced workers, he'd gone so far as to pour salt in the wound by giving her another task. "Go and inform Haon to come to the pavilion for serving the guest."

Those cranky words continued to ring in her eardrums, even as she trod along an unfamiliar stretch of hallway, which looked far grander than anything she had ever laid eyes on.

Every corner was in top-notch condition, the floorboards smooth and silent beneath her feet, and the walls were adorned with delicate floral carvings and silk tapestries that shimmered like starlight in the warm lantern glow.

"That old man said Haon lives around here, but is this even the right place?"

She arched an eyebrow, questioning the absurdity of the situation. It was true she had never set foot in the west wing quarters before, but she would've never guessed Haon lived here. Here, of all places.

Every time they'd returned from work together, it was always Haon who would drop her off first, before heading deeper into the maze of pathways.

She hadn't thought much of it back then, assuming his place was simply farther in. But now that she was here, she realized just how far it was.

The discovery sat oddly in her chest and she wasn't sure what she should be feeling in that moment.

On one hand, Esei was happy for her friend–for the comfort he must live in. And on the other, she felt a strange hollowness rise in her throat. It left her disoriented, like someone had pulled a curtain and revealed something she wasn't quite ready to see.

. . .

Solemnly standing in front of the door where Haon supposedly lived, Esei had a look of contemplation. Her eyes instinctively scanned the delicate carvings on the frame, so unlike the plain wooden doors she was used to.

Even the air smelled cleaner, with less soot and steam, and more of calming incense. Then, with a quiet inhale, she straightened her back as if pulling herself together and began to loudly bang on the door, calling for Haon.

It took some time, but she definitely heard the clear voice of the musician calling back to her from within…it was undoubtedly his.

'… so it is true.'

Esei choked up, the truth slowly registering. He really did live here.

'Agh, no… No need to be sad. I just need to do well, and I can get to live in a nice place too.'

She whispered words of encouragement to herself, desperate to keep her spirits high. But the moment the wooden door cracked open with a soft groan, revealing the warm light inside, her face immediately crumpled…the envy prickling like thorns.

The interior was gorgeous, just as she had expected to see from such an upscale area, decorated with ornate furnishings and curtains patterned with gold threads. But the most unbelievable part of this whole space was the man standing in front of her.

"Did something happen?" Haon asked in a small voice, completely missing the sickly pale complexion of Esei and the way her pupils shook.

"…"

"Esei…?"

"…"

The girl pressed her lips into a thin line, her hands clenched tightly at her sides, before finally relaying the message.

"Some important guest have come, and the head is calling for you to serve them, that is all."

After saying this, she didn't bother to explain more and simply left, her sandals thudding against the floor as she turned away. She didn't want to stay there any longer, not even for a breath more.

"Huh? Esei??"

Haon called out, feeling the gust of wind her sudden departure had left in her wake.

'Did she leave?' he wondered, tilting his head toward the fading sound of her footsteps. They were growing distant now, muddled against the silence of the night, until they melted into it.

'…'

'Maybe she got upset for having to wake up in the middle of the night… just to call for me…'

Haon somehow reasoned, though he wasn't entirely sure.

He figured he could always inquire about it the next day, when she was more willing to talk. But for now, he simply stood in the doorway, scratching his cheek awkwardly.

"Oh, right. I forgot they called for me."

Recalling his summon to the pavilion, he moved to close the door behind him, then turned to leave at once. It was as if his body moved forward while his mind dragged behind, his steps light yet reluctant.

Of course. He could already guess the identity of the patron who would visit at such an odd hour, and the very thought made the muscles along his shoulders tense.

'Why is he back again when we had just met yesterday?'

He questioned the strangeness, but no answer came–only the sound of his own pulse ticking louder in his ears.

Usually, Sir Noha would come to visit once or twice a month, always at his own leisure, but never in two consecutive days. That had always been the case from the first time they met, exactly six months ago. 'So why was there a change?'

Thump~

He raised one shaky hand over his frantically beating chest in a feeble attempt to keep it calm. But it wasn't really working well. The fabric of his robe trembled over his ribs, rising and falling with shallow, clipped breaths.

With each step closing in on his destination, he uttered silent prayers under his breath, lips barely moving. Accompanying those were the cold sweat pooling in his palm and the faint tremors crawling up his arms like a warning written beneath his skin.

He felt like a prey jumping in to readily sacrifice himself. Like an offering walking to the altar on its own two feet.

Until that very day, Sir Noha had never done anything to hurt him physically, but the mental pressure of simply being near the man was too much for Haon's weak constitution to handle.

Now, standing in front of the massive doorway, the thick wooden panel loomed above him like a gate to something inevitable.

He was only a few steps away from impending danger.

'It will be another long night.'