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"I rose, held my scars up, only to let them sear in the daylight"

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His frantic figure enclasped with fatigue made way outside the magnificent castle. His ocean blue eyes studied the sky as night began falling the blue haze of day to divulge the distant stars. His eyes closed feeling the early winter breeze blow his hair into tousle mane. The chilly coldness hustled in the pores of his skin through his thin linen shirt casing his body to shiver severely.

"Ah! Should have brought the cloak."

He hastily put on the coat that he had taken off just a few moments ago.

"To home, Young master?"

He turned around to find his coachman Henry with the carriage. The middle-aged coachman had been serving the Kim family for the past 10 years.

"No, Mr Smith. I wish to go to Mossley," Taehyung answered with a smile.

"Mossley?" Henry asked with a frown. The village was situated on the southern border of Antares and undoubtedly, one of the most affected villages from the dismay. "Sure, Young master."

Henry nodded and pulled the carriage entrance open for Taehyung to get in.

Taehyung peered through the curtains to admire the occupied crowd hurrying to get back home. He hoisted the curtains back to let the hazy golden light of the lanterns come inside the dark coach to abolish the sinister blackness. He leaned his face over the window watching the people with a wide smile- how childish of an act but he could not care less.

The carriage steadily moved forth as the last sun-rays of the day kissed the lands and the greens melted into grey earth under the vague crescent moon.

He wondered, his eyes stuck on the people and carriages on the avenue, what people would make of him; would they be able to see the tales of his storm? Would they see the way his eyes were slow and his soul was fatigued from the very depth? Would they see the tears uncried that had eventually given birth to a sea of agony? And if they did, if they did witness that emotional debris, knowing how the storm of remorse and grief knocked on his door over and over, would they shine for him like the sun on the trees or hoist him towards the sinister storm awaiting for him to engulf him outside his portal?

He inhaled the cold breeze and exhaled heavily and again was drowned in his puddle of thoughts.

"3 villages..." he thought. "Each of them with nearly 500 dwellers...1500 dwellers. How shall I be able to accommodate all of them? Not 100, not 500...Who will help me? My wages will not be sufficient for 3 villages."

His forehead crinkled in unrest. The sentiments he had been going through were not feasible to swallow. He had obligations as a son, as an administrator, an armourer. And he wished to fulfil each of them with excellence. Not in any desire to be applauded, but to witness the smile of others.

His smile? He had already found the rationale.

His beloved.

He wished to admire her, he cherished to see her, to think of her.
Even in his occupied routine, he had learnt to find a few moments to spare for her. Again, childish of an act but what could be done?

However, it seemed now he had to devote his spare time to find a solution for the ongoing dilemma and it led him to make a hasty decision for paying a visit to one of the villages.

The first person who came in his mind was-

" Jimin..."

"Shall I talk to him on this matter?"

He kept the thought aside heaving a subtle sigh, peering at the sky rolling a blanket of cloud the colour of wet ash. A chilly surge of wind took the opportunity of the open window and brushed against his torso causing his delicate lips to quiver partly.

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"We are here, young master," the coachman spoke coming to a halt causing Taehyung to shrug out of his busy daydreams.

He got off the carriage and found himself standing in front of a shop. Just by having a glance at the shop, he could say what hardship the village was undergoing. Grimy, untouched roof and entrance, as though it had been unused for ages. Instead of goods, the selves were shrouded with a flimsy seam of dust.

He exhaled wearily and walked towards the locality.

"Hey! Taetae!" a tiny exhilarated voice cried out.

His lips stretched into his unusual rectangular smile as his ears heard a familiar child's voice. His eyes met a tiny figure of a 5-year-old boy standing in the yard of a house as he turned around in search of the source of the voice.

"Hey there Georgie! How are you doing?" he asked striding towards the child, kneeling in front of him.

"I'm alright," the kid spoke humping a little. "But Mumma is not." He feebly muttered the last sentence.

Taehyung fretted and softly pinched his cheek. "What happened, Georgie?"

"Can-can you scold papa? Taetae?" the little one hesitantly spoke as tears accumulated in his eyes.

"Why, little man?" Taehyung asked being disconcerted. "Why do you want me to scold your papa?"

The boy named George faltered in a daze and spoke, "Because, he- he scolds Mumma every day." He stopped and hastily peered over his shoulder examining something, as though fearing if someone had heard him.

Taehyung detached his lips intending to solace the boy but nothing came out of his mouth. He fervently caressed George's slick hair as he spoke again," Mumma n-never did anything bad but he still gets angry on her. He h-hurts Mumma. He says that she is useless because she does not earn m-money. Is everyone who does not earn money useless, Taetae? Am I useless too?"

He stared at Taehyung with his brown teary eyes. Taehyung shook his head vigorously and engulfed his tiny torso in his arms.

"N-No, Georgie, y-your papa is not right," he whispered tenderly. The thin quiver in his voice did not go neglected by him. "Money can never decide a person's worth, it never can..."

The 5-year-old's little sobs brought back the grimy, nasty ghost of his past in front of him. Each recollection caused him to let out yielding breaths. The reminiscences cornered him as a wind that vowed to drown him in briny depths. The salty triumphant blue scorched his scars which had no skin to enclose them.

14 years ago...

He once had assumed that those scars would be silver trails to a better prospect, an atlas of survival and triumph, a fantasy that could bring his esteem...only had assumed for 14 years. Why were they returning? Why when he was setting his best effort to make amends? When he was still learning to forgive himself, to love himself, to be a blessing to himself and others?

He was faltering but he wished to stand up, he wished to hold his head up.

The wind did not succeed to drown him, the cold wash only made him stronger, gave birth to an intense survival instinct in him. Once he had been a child only, powerless, frail. But now he was not. He was still alive. He would not live the life of a living corpse and nor would let anyone live like so.

Taehyung's grip fastened against the little boy, his fingers rummaging through his jet black hair.

Taehyung could grasp the fear scouring through George's heart. The only unlikeness between them was that there had been no one for him like George had today. There had not been any pair of warm arms that would have made him feel conserved.

"Don't cry now, little man," Taehyung spoke letting him go from his embrace. "You are a strong boy, aren't you?" The boy immediately nodded his head intently.

"Now dry your eyes." He softly clutched his cheeks between his palms and blazed a smile, a smile that could mend a shattered soul, a smile that was both the cage and the ever-open door.

"Georgie!" A woman around her early 30 appeared in the yard; dangling a lantern in her hand.

George's mother.

"Lord! Did I not forbid this boy to play after the sundown? His father will be mad!" The boy's mother scurried to fetch him.

"Good evening, Mrs Sawyer." Getting on his feet, Taehyung bowed. His one hand clutched onto George's tiny one.

"Oh! Good evening, Taehyung." George's mother who was addressed as Mrs Sawyer allotted a smile. "What brings you at this hour? How is aunt Beth?"

"She is doing alright except for her stubbornness." Mrs Sawyer snickered a little at his response.

"Make this boy understand. Always playing outside." She softly glared at her son whose silhouette was concealing behind Taehyung while clutching his waist.

"I was not playing. I was talking to Taetae, ask him," he countered puffing his cheeks.

"How many times do I need to tell you to call him uncle Tae? That's very bad, Georgie!" George only humped in response.

"You little devil– come here." Mrs Sawyer sighed at her son.

"Go," Taehyung whispered stroking his hair.

George let go of his waist and scooted to his mother's arms. "Mumma," he cooed fastening his tiny arms around her torso."Mumma, I told Taetae to scold Papa. He will tell him not to hurt you again."

Mrs Sawyer's brain stuttered as she could not be more at a loss of words. Taehyung, too could not feel more apprehensive as silence thrived between the three of them.

"George! W-What are you saying, son?" she hastily said retrieving her serenity. "Taehyung, he is s-still a child, don't pay heed to his words."

"Georgie, go inside," she commanded sternly. "But Mumma–"

"I said go!"

The boy unwillingly made his way inside of the house as Taehyung resolved to speak to her.

"Mrs Sawyer, please do not hesitate to convey me if you face any sort of trouble. You are an elder sister to me–"

"I face no trouble, Taehyung. It's alright. As much as I'm appreciative of your concern, I do not reckon the matter is worth it." She cut him off with uncertainty, "And contemplating the hardship that our village confronts at present, it's precisely trivial."

"But have you ever thought what trouble shall come if you keep quiet? Have you ever thought of what George might go through every day?" Taehyung asked, now that he could not restrain himself.

"Well, he must learn to survive it–"

"Someday Georgie will grow up too and turn into, what the civilization fancies to call a Man. And when he does, would you love to see him become what he witnesses now? Would you love to see him do what his father is now?" He chose not to let her finish which was something no one could anticipate from him.

"Taehyung!" she cried dreading the worst. "No- no. My Georgie will not do such a thing."

Taehyung let out a chuckle of censure. "It is indeed humorous, You know. You are frightened to face the consequences of what you refuse to let come at a cease."

The woman shook her head vigorously.

"I shall take my leave. Nevertheless, I want you to think before you leap to a conclusion. Your single determination could rewrite your son's forthcoming life and mentality. Goodbye." He forged a fragile smile and strode away to have a look at the other locals, restless, unable to give up on his habit of leaving in between an incomplete conversation.

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Pride: So, I hope you didn't get bored. Don't worry. None of these scenes is here just to fill in. They are connected. Just go with the flow.