"Art exists because life is not enough."

Lonely eyes
She had those lonely eyes
I only know 'cause I have them too
Lonely eyes
No, you don't have to hide
The things you feel inside, I feel too
'Cause I'm lonely just like you.
-Lonely Eyes by Lauv.

HE SCREAMED. A loud, guttural wail. Moaning, crying out for help. Help which would never come.

Awakening with a start, he gasped for air. His sweaty palms grasped the sheets like they were all that was left for him to hold on to. Hands involuntarily flaying about the nightstand, trying to locate the sleeping pills he'd needed a bit too often lately.

He was breathing heavy now, mind completely focused on trying to steady his body. A snap of his fingers made the lights flicker on. He stared at the little bottle of pills, contemplating whether sleeping was a viable escape from his own mind.

Throwing the bottle of death away, he pulled off his sheets. The woman who slept peacefully beside him seemed so blatantly unaware of the fact that the man she spent the night with was now gasping for air, for the will to live.

In a matter of seconds, he was out of his room and into his studio. Eyes blurred with red and the world hazier than his thoughts. The constant pit-pattering of rain on the roof the only tangible anchor to reality.

He couldn't. He thought it was gone, that he'd be able to finally forgive himself. But no. As he held his best friend's cold, blue hand, a disgrace to his former beautiful, warm undertone, the man crumbled.

Everything fell away. Like glaciers which melt little by little for years, narrow rivulets running down and joining the vast ultramarine. The way they dangerously collapse, blocks, huge volumes of frozen saltwater crashing into the sea.

Jimin felt like one tiny, inconspicuous speck of ice which would soon be consumed by the neverending void. Melting into nothing.

And that's exactly what went on the canvas.

White, blue, yellow, red. Squeeze, splat, smear. Fingers, brushes, knives.

He couldn't think. He couldn't afford to get lost in his thoughts again. The eternal pitch night prevailing there would suck him in, leaving no hope of escape.

Stroke by stroke, they came together. A union of malice and devastation.

Jimin knew where the devastation came from. But the malice, the pure, unadulterated hatred, that was all for himself. He hated himself. He did this. To his best friend. To the only light in his life. To Taehyung.

THIS COMMISSION was beginning to take a toll on Kang Ambrosia. She lugged her sleep-deprived body running on nothing but crappy teabag infusions into the chapel at 4am.

She suppressed this urge for weeks. Trying her level best to work in formal attire and during daylight hours. Unfortunately, Namjoon and Hoseok had pushed her every button.

With the two royal guards following her around all day, she never found a window to work in peace. She didn't want to send them off on a wild goose chase so that she'd get some privacy, but she hated having them around.

Working at 4am seemed like the best option. Even the kings ex-bodyguards had to sleep, right?

The small hours of the morning guaranteed her privacy. She absolutely hated working in heels, coats, blazers, whatever. She hated formals. Somehow, her mind just didn't function the right way when she was too focused on making sure her skirt doesn't ride up her thighs.

Unfortunately for her, she had to wear such clothes because of the status of her clients. She couldn't wear sweatpants to go meet VIPs.

At 4am, nobody cared if she was wearing PJ's and a tank top or a whole ass wedding gown. Nobody gave a shit. And that's exactly how she liked it.

She took out her tablet the second she switched the chapel lights on. In the black screen, she caught a glimpse of her reflection. Eyebags dark, skin sagging and a new zit making itself known on her cheek. Hair tangled up with her eyeglasses, sticking out of her makeshift bun like a porcupines backside. If she saw herself walking around at 4 in the morning, she would've screamed. She looked ghastly.

Leaving the fate of her appearance to the makeup gods, she perched her spectacles on her nose and got down to work.

The day they were assigned to her two weeks ago, she wanted to speak to Jimin about getting them off her tail, but couldn't form the words after seeing his pathetic state. Most of all, she didn't understand why she allowed him to hold on to her.

Kang Ambrosia never felt sympathetic. She never felt anything.

She didn't think she was capable of any emotion except exasperation.

She sure as hell thought she was immune to men, romance, love and all that other bullshit. The Prince of Sykaria was making her re-evaluate her principles. And she didn't necessarily like it.

The silence of the early morning and the monotonous sound of crickets provided the perfect soundtrack for her to soothe her ever-worked up nerves and relax.

Within a few hours, her body worked like a well-oiled machine. Thinking, planning, noting, reading. Climbing on stairs, tables, chairs to get a better view.

The dark calmed her. It reminded Ambrosia of the stories her mother would tell her about the temple of Artemis and how it was a safe haven for women. No matter who (or what) was pursuing her, she would be safe. The priestesses and the entire town of Ephesus would fight for her. The sanctity of the royal chapel was beginning to remind her of that.

"Up and at it before six, Ambrosia. Great going," Jimin marvelled, walking into the coronation hall with an impressed smile. In shock, the wedding planner almost flung the stylus in her fingers away. Ambrosia groaned, internally cussing him out.

Ducking behind a pillar in a weak attempt to hide her hole ridden pyjamas, she ripped the glasses off her face, "The contract clearly states that you have to give me a heads up before coming here, Prince Jimin."

He simply shrugged, tracing the ivory walls with his fingertips, stopping at the little coloured chalk marking she'd mapped out, "It's six in the morning and I just felt like doing a routine check up. I didn't expect anyone to be here."

She couldn't see him from where she was standing, but heard his footsteps come closer and closer to her hiding spot.

Frantically tugging at her messy bun-
—which was in no way one of those gorgeous Pinterest-worthy effortless hairdos—she gritted her teeth, "Could you please come back in half an hour, Jimin? I really need to get some stuff done."

"Where are you?" He frowned, searching the room, movements more sudden, "What stuff? Is everything alright?"

Sometimes, she couldn't help but hate his concern. She blurted out the first thing she thought of, "I'm naked."

Radio silence followed. He seemed to be considering the possibility, undoubtedly remembering the time he walked in on her lounging about in underclothes in her hotel room, dancing along to the Friends theme song. He'd poked fun at her for days after that. She grimaced at the memory.

"This is the city chapel, possibly the holiest place in Sykaria City, Ambrosia. You're definitely not naked," he brushed off the hypothesis, deeming it as too absurd. His chivalrous nature couldn't keep him from asking anyway, "Should I hand you my coat?"

He began to take off his long beige overcoat, eyes brimming with concern.

Ambrosia ran a hand through her bangs which had now come loose as a result of her unsuccessful attempt to tame her locks. There was no getting out of this. She came out from behind her sanctuary, hands entwined in front of her. She could only pray that it was too dark for him to see.

Unfortunately, in the few minutes between night-time and dawn, lay a twilight of sorts. It wasn't dark enough to obscure vision, but not light enough to be called day.

"Kang Ambrosia, are you alright?" He asked, frowning while doing so. He didn't seem to be fazed by the fact that she was literally clad in a tight tank top with holier-than-thou pyjamas. Her locks were the perfect representation of a menstruating girl's bed hair.

She was baffled but somehow consoled at the fact that his hair was almost as messed-up as hers, "Everything's alright, of course. What could possibly go wrong?" Grumbling and muttering under her breath to further deviate his attention, "And I'm telling you, Jimin, this is absolutely unfair. You're violating the contract!"

Picking up on her discomfort, Jimin decided to exploit the upper hand he seemed to have, "The number of holes in those PJ's violate the code of decency, Ambrosia."

She then mumbled a few abuses a childhood teacher had made her clean her mouth out with soap for saying.

"Okay, okay. I have no idea what you just said but I'm assuming it's not a thank you," Jimin shuddered, "The sun will be out soon and my brother is supposed to pay you a visit today. Would you like to change, or..."

I'll catch a cab and go back to my hotel and change—"

"You're still staying at The Magnificent?"

"Not everyone hops from hotel to hotel every week like you, Prince Jimin," she chided, recalling her time with him in Greece, "Besides, why did you even do that?"

"Didn't need the staff recognising me, obviously, Ambrosia. Especially with a girl in a hotel," he explained slowly, "My point is that, you should stay here. I'll assign you and your secretary guest bedrooms."

She considered the offer. It would cut down on half an hour of travel time daily. But, she'd be on even tighter surveillance, compliments of Namjoon and Hoseok.

Silence of a few minutes made Jimin antsy, "Don't like the idea of spending more time with me?"

"Your dad, the king assigned two guards to follow me around and "help" me while watching my every move," she began, "I can't work like this. I told you, I need privacy to think," and then, narrowing her eyes at the man, "and yeah, that too. Can't stand the idea."

"Your loss," he shrugged, throwing her a wink. She gagged in response, "And Namjoon and Hoseok, right? I'll tell them to lay off. They're just following orders."

Assuming this incredibly awkward conversation was over, she got back to work. Opening a blank page in her tablet, she began sketching the hall. The tall pillars with swirling designs, improved by adding deep crimson drapes bunched at the tops of each one, a bouquet of white flowers covering the points of attachment.

Matching the Sykarian flag, the aisle and altar would be carpeted in rich violet velvet fabric. The kings robe would be just a few shades darker, pooling at his feet and flowing behind him as he walked. Polished wooden chairs for the palace officials and ministers. Three dull golden chandeliers with a regal aura, the only source of light apart from the open windows below the stained glass.

"You draw?" Jimin interjected from right behind her ear. She hadn't even noticed him come so close. Being of the same height, she directly met his eyes upon turning her neck. Her breath hitched.

Obsidian slits met with golden orbs. Her glasses a fragile barrier. Noses only a hairs distance apart. Stray silver strands lightly brushing her forehead.

From afar, he looked exactly like how a prince should seem. Strong, optimistic, confident. But, now, looking into the windows to his soul, she saw more. Loneliness, guilt and hatred.

A strong bout of what she excused as a side effect of sleep deprivation compelled her to raise her hands up to his cheek. Caress his candy-like lips. Ask him what his smile was hiding.

He could hear her gulp as she put her archetypal mask of composure back on, "Uh, no. I sketch. The layout. Designs."

As she spoke, he saw her eyes glass over. He realised. He realised that she wasn't perfect. In the pink flush on her cheeks and nose, he saw a hint of hopelessness and concern, emotions Kang Ambrosia rarely showed. Or as he was learning now, allowed to show.

They recognised something in each other. Something only Aphrodite and Adonis could understand. Something that connected two hearts with an invisible string, forever binding two souls together.

"THANKS FOR DRIVING ME, JIN," she smiled, a hand resting on the door handle.

"Anything for my Jiminie's lover," he scrunched his face, a mischievous glint in his doll-like eyes.

"Kim Seokjin, for the very last time—"

"Ah, forget it. You both are insufferable ass bulls and I'm totally not here for it," he grimaced, opening his door, "Anyways, I'm inviting myself up. I have to see where my Miss Sia's been living."

A mental image of her hotel suite flashed through Ambrosia's mind. She could explicitly remember a bra hanging off the curtain rod and a pile of empty teabag sachets forming in a corner.

"Uh, Jin—"

"What? Panties hanging off the bedstand?" He scoffed, one hand resting on the upper frame of the now opened car door.

Ambrosia's mouth hung open. Over the past two weeks of her knowing Jin, this was the thousandth time he'd guessed something ridiculously true about her, "Wha—how!?"

Covering pretty glossed lips with his palm, his sparkling eyes widened in shock, "I was kidding! Honey, you need some serious help. Get your pretty ass up in your suite and lemme see what I'm working with."

Humph-ing loudly, Ambrosia mimicked Jin with a sardonic tone, something she didn't even realise she hadn't done since she was twelve.

Upon entering the suite, she tightly closed her eyes, mentally preparing herself for Jin's shrieky outburst.

"Honey, no. This is just—No," shaking his head in disbelief, he rubbed his eyes, "This was the Hotel Magnificent Magnificent Suite, right?"

She nodded weakly.

"You booked the most expensive, luxe suite in the most posh hotel in all of Sykaria and this is what you did to it!?" He picked up an old face towel off the ground to prove his point.

"It's not even that bad, Jin. I'll just—I'll just pick up the clothes and the rest I can handle—

"Forget it. Go, get changed. I'll drop you back before heading to the mall," he pressed his temples, waving her off the way one would swat away a pesky fly. He made himself comfortable on a couch as she headed into the bedroom.

Quickly throwing on a clean set of clothes that somehow matched, she thought about Jin. Her mother always told her to treat anyone who comes home with the utmost respect. Xenia, she would preach, is an ancient Greek sacred rule that her mother had taught her. It translated to "guest-friendship" and meant that the man of the home would have to provide the guest with food, a bath, friendship, gifts, safety for the night and a safe passage to their destination.

Her suite wasn't exactly a home, but hotels were all she had. She hadn't stayed in a real home ever since she went global.

Either way, Jin was the only person apart from Yoongi who had "visited" her per se. Pondering over what she should do over the next few minutes, she slipped out of the bedroom.

Hands gripped in front of her, her feline eyes widened, full lips slightly pouted as she poked her head out to see whether she should offer Jin a cup of tea or something. Apprehension was all she could feel. Her throat filled and stomach grew tighter as she opened her mouth to speak, "Uh, Jin, um—Would you like something to drink? I'm sorry, I forgot to ask you earlier. It's just that I haven't had guests over in forever so I'm sorry if you felt bad but like I have some tea and water and that's about it. I don't really drink much coffee because it ruins my skin and besides, tea is so much better and it's also supposed to be good for you and I think I'm rambling now but I—Can you just freaking respond!? I feel like an idiot now. Tea or water?"

Seokjin laughed.

The audacity, Ambrosia thought, until she actually heard the way he laughed.

God-crafted pearly whites a complete contrast to his wheezing windshield-wiper cackle. It was the kind of laugh which would even make a few of her nastier clients giggle.

Contrary to her expectations, she laughed. And Kang Ambrosia barely laughed.

"What's," she huffed between loud guffaws, "so damn funny!?"

"I have no idea!" He threw his head back, repeatedly smacking an innocent throw cushion with his hand.

Her stomach began to split at the seams from laughing so hard, "Okay, okay. Time out. Let's breathe for a sec."

He was heaving, trying to catch his breath, "I'll take a glass of water, okay? And please don't treat me like a guest. I invited myself up here. Let's just go get your makeup done, shall we? I don't want to die of laughter."

The duo made their way into her bathroom, Jin teasing her for her nervous breakdown earlier. She murmured a sassy reply under her breath, low enough to keep him from hearing.

Putting some much-needed concealer to cover her horrendous dark circles, she swayed her hips to the rhythm of the song Jin had decided to play. She drew on some eyeliner before her now-friend stopped her and corrected her method. He then proceeded to dab some Fenty Diamond Milk on his lips.

Ambrosia felt something in the pit of her stomach as she watched him. She felt like everything was changing. Not in a bad way, but weirdly enough, it felt good. Like finally, there was something she could look forward to apart from work. She could finally see a future beyond the next commission.

Laughing at his terrible joked punctuated with his even funnier giggle, they headed into her bedroom to pick up a purse.

"Two suitcases of clothes, Sia, for six months. Two suitcases? You're planning Sykaria's biggest event for god knows how long and that's what you're going to choose from? Girl, you're gorgeous. You need to own it!" He exclaimed, looming over her miserable travel wardrobe with hands tight on his hips.

"I'm going to mix-and-match outfits, Jin. It's worked for years," she sighed, holding up a pair of black trousers, "See, these go with practically everything. I have the basics, come on."

"Not when you're my friend," he shook his head, "You know what? I'm taking you shopping."

"Seokjin, I don't need more clothes," she sighed. In an effort to prove her point and convince the bull-headed elder, she continued, "Plus, where would I keep them? I have only two suitcases."

He winked, throwing himself back on her comforter, "Lucky for you, Hermes is at 50% off"

"JEONGGUK!" Jimin shouted, making the suit-clad man rush to his side.

"Yes, Prince Jimin."

"Do I have any PR work today?"

"No, Prince Jimin."

"That's a relief. Any appointments?"

"No, Prince Jimin."

"What about the meeting with the Prime Minister?"

"The PM was adamant on speaking to Prince Kangmin and King Changmin instead. Something about being in power."

Jimin inhaled deeply. A slow smile painted his lips. He had a sick feeling this would happen.

Burden the little prince with all the PR work and keep the real administrative work for his brother. Suck up to the future king. Who cares about second in line to the throne?

"Would you like me to set up another appointment?"

The little prince gritted his teeth. No one could show him attitude and get way with it, "No. Cut free membership to the Royal Golf Course from his list of privileges."

"Done, Prince Jimin."

"Arrange two guest bedrooms for Miss Kang and her secretary. Make sure that they are close-by," pushing the inside of his cheek with his tongue, he decided that he wasn't entirely sure of Yoongi's feelings towards Ambrosia, "but keep them far."

"Close-by but far. Got it, Prince Jimin," Jeongguk internally chuckled. His child-like innocent mind barely got it's daily fix of fun because of Jimin's recently acquired austerity, but he would manage to scrounge up something for today.

"I JUST DON'T GET IT. What's his deal?" She shook her head, taking a long sip of her Starbucks order, basking in the cool air conditioning of Sykaria City's most elite shopping centre which her brunet friend had dragged her to. Out of the corner of her eye, she caught sight of the third Gucci showroom she'd walked past in the very same mall. This one, dedicated entirely to perfumes.

"He's an entitled piece of shit. Can't blame him, though. When you're born as the future king, you grow up walking a path of roses. It grows on you after a while," Jin sighed, pulling his sunglasses off and resting them on his head. He hitched the coffee coloured coat he wore over a jet black woolen turtle neck.

"Hasn't anyone ever told him he's a piece of shit?" She asked. Recalling the numerous run-ins she'd had with the crown prince, she nearly shuddered. He was nasty. Every time he saw her, she immediately felt the need to cover herself in blankets and take a shower to wash away the dirty feeling. Preferably at the same time. His eyes would leave her feeling physically violated. Personal space was well respected, so she couldn't complain to anyone, but his eyes. Instinctively, she would always pull her blazer on tighter, covering as much of her body as possible to feel a little clothed under his stripping gaze.

Jin chortled, "Ever seen his 'ceps, honey? Plus, he's the heir to the Sykarian throne. No one dares to go against him. And before you ask, your Jimin is also shit-scared of him."

"Speaking of Jimin, what's going on?"

Jin's upbeat mood dampened drastically. His aloof, suave composure slacked as he sighed, a reminiscent smile painting his doll-face.his eyes reminded Ambrosia of her dad's, when her mother would come back home exhausted, mentally and physically from being an "accessory" to a rich man for a high-end social gathering. He would hold both of them tightly in his arms, hoping that some of his wife's fatigue would seep into him.

"He's tired, but he'll never show it."

"How do you know?"

"The same way you do, I guess."

SHE MET HER EYES IN THE MIRROR. The same striking hazel irises lined with kajal she saw everyday, now somehow even more feline. Her cheekbones were sculpted, the warm brown shadow underneath them meeting her crimson lips in the centre.

The black bralette she'd begged Jin to toss actually looked great. It was almost hidden underneath the obsidian laples of her blazer guaranteeing her comfort. Hugging her chest tightly, only tiny wisps of lace could be seen, the combination with black trousers taunt on the thighs and flaring at the bottom making her look like one of those successful businesswomen on magazine covers. Her shoes peeked out from underneath the cuffs, shiny leather straps a contrast against the matte of her trousers.

It was a collision of power, with a hint of sultry. In other words, perfectly Kang Ambrosia.

She almost didn't recognise herself. She was herself. Undoubtedly. Just enhanced to the degree of irresistible.

Fake it till you make it, Iseul would say.

Well then, if this is what faking it looks like, Ambrosia would do it without hesitation.

Despite what she'd grown up hearing, she'd never thought of herself as attractive. She was the same as everyone else. Nose, lips, ears, eyes. Flesh and bones. What's so special about that?

Seeing herself now really made her rethink her principles. She was attractive. Heck, beautiful even. The same as everyone else.

"Finally seeing what Jimin sees, huh?" Jin flashed her a million-dollar smile, eyes crinkling in happiness.

"You're a genius, Seokjin. I'm never taking this off," she breathed, barely able to process what her companion had said.

"Babygirl, you're my new canvas. I'm going to doll you up so pretty, Ken's going to dump Barbie's perfect ass for you," squeezing her shoulders lightly from behind her, he smoothened the shoulder cuffs of her ebony blazer cinched at the waist with a gold Gucci belt.

"Who's Barbie?" She frowned, still unable to tear her eyes away from her reflection.

"Only the most controversial children's toy in the world," he mumbled, in awe of his creation.

She thought for a second. She hadn't felt this exhilarated in years. Liquid power surging through her veins, mixing with her adrenaline in a dangerous, yet tingling cocktail. She couldn't get enough.

More, she thought. I need this.

"I'll be your Barbie then."

"YOU—YOU LOOK—" Jimin's mouth hung open as he opened the passengers side door of Jin's car, "Jin, what did you do?"

"Open the door for me too next time, useless ass pig. And brush your damn hair. Just 'cause I've known you since you were pooping in nappies doesn't mean you disregard me. I can spill some real nasty shit to Sia," Jin threatened, waving a perfectly manicured finger in Jimin's face.

"Sia?" Jimin frowned, scratching his silver hair.

"Ambrosia, Sia, Aphrodite, same thing. Get with it, boomer," the elder snapped, humour lacing his every word as he expected the prince to finally crack under his ruthless sarcasm.

"You two are getting too close," the now-annoyed royal breathed, following it with words of self-consolation, "Anyways, Ambrosia, you still have to meet Kangmin. He'll be visiting the chapel with his wife in about," he pulled his phone out, "half an hour from now. And uh, no offence, you look great, but don't wear that in front of Kangmin. He's not the most, uh—respectful person ever. Shall I send for a change of clothes?"

"I'm perfectly fine. You don't have to worry about me, Jimin. You don't have the right to. Plus, I'll deal with Prince Kangmin. It's his coronation I'm planning, it's him I have to put up with," she said slowly, as though she were calming a five year old. Or degrading a twenty-four year old.

Jimin had enough.

"You're too stubborn to listen, aren't you?" Jimin sighed, shaking his head, his light bangs swaying in the process, "Jin, go to the chapel to see if everything is in place for Kangmin's visit. I need to speak to Miss Kang. You are excused," Jimin's tone did a complete 180, acquiring an authoritative edge. As though it was a stimulus of some sort, the elder's playful and teasing attitude melted into submission.

Bowing down before the Prince of Sykaria, the well-dressed man scampered away.

"Ambrosia, I know you. You're strong. But you're beautiful too. I know my brother, and around women, he's repulsive. You say you and I are done, and as much as it pains me, it's fine. Still, I can't have him looking at you like that. I—See, just put on a coat or something, okay? It's your body, your choice, but if that one month meant anything to you, then please—"

Why the fuck should I?

Why am I listening to him?

He means nothing to me.

"I'll change," Ambrosia gulped, a little too loudly.

"Thank you," he smiled, eyes crinkling up into non-existent slits, as though her agreeing gave him physical consolation. He pulled his phone out of his coat pocket, "Jeongguk, where are the rooms you reserved for Miss Kang and Mr Min?...Ah, okay. Third floor...opposite my room. Got it. Wait, opposite my room!? Jeongguk!"

She could faintly hear a hiccuping laughter on the other end, as though a teenage cartoon character were giggling. She couldn't help but smile.

Jimin stuffed the phone back in, as though that were the source of all his problems and turned to Ambrosia, "Well," he said, running a hand through his silky silver hair, "you heard it. Let's get going."

They walked in silence down to the palace from the parking lot. She thought about earlier that morning, when she saw something she so deeply knew in his eyes. There was something wrong with him. There had to be. He was a prince, he shouldn't look so lonely, lost and defeated.

First things first, she thought.

"So," she asked, slipping her hands through the pockets of her brand new blazer, "I haven't slept in forever, was in my nightclothes until Jin took me shopping and somehow, you look rougher than I did today morning. Care to explain?"

Kicking a pebble off into the flowerbeds lining the asphalt, he sighed,"I didn't sleep well."

She cooed, "Aw, poor princie had his crown on tight."

Said princie frowned, eyes narrowing as he was taken aback at the ever-austere wedding planner's sudden childishness, "What's going on? Is this a part of some prank you and Jin planned?"

"What? No. I just thought you were feeling a bit low today, so I decided to try and-"

"Make me feel better? Okay, now there's definitely something. Is Jin going to like pop up behind me and spray some fake snow in my face or something?"

"Wow, you sure are difficult to console."

"No one would expect Kang Ambrosia, Miss It's-my-workplace to console anyone. Can't blame me for suspecting you."

"Forget it. You're impossible," Ambrosia let out an exaggerated sigh, one she undoubtedly learnt from the master of drama: Kim Seokjin.

Their non-stop bickering continued until they reached the palace. Walking up the first flight of stairs she had to ascend the first time she came here, the duo entered the residential wing of the royal palace. The childish quarrel came to an end. Ambrosia was once again mesmerised by the ibis pavillion and Mount Olympus-esque architecture.

Her eyes flickered to behind them, to the little extension of the royal garden. The perfect aisle. She'd die to organise a full-fledged Indian wedding with all the fifteen hundred ceremonies and traditions. The garland ceremony could be in the centre of the royal garden, the little extension the canopy of stars for the bride.

"Ambrosia?" He shook her softly, the touch barely enough to catch her attention. Of course, that was what he thought. Ambrosia felt a chill run down her spine as his skin made contact with hers through veils of clothing. Not a bad chill, though. The refreshing way one tenses up after downing a shot or tequila, anticipating a blissful high in the near future.

Her kohl-lined eyes softened as she turned to him and proceeded to click-clack through the timber doors and down the majestic corridor. Jimin jogged to catch up with the woman in six-inch heels.

"Since you're on my floor, there's a few things you should know," the prince began, "First, there's two staircases, one only for me and the one at the far end for everyone else. Secondly, you will have a personal handmaid. I'll get Namjoon and Hoseok off your back, but you'll have to keep the handmaid. Third, and the most important, stay out of the hallways when Jeongguk and Jin have contests on who can barrel through the corridor the loudest. Trust me, it's not something you want to witness."

"Can I get an electric kettle in my room?"

Jimin scratched his head, "I'll have to arrange for one. It'll take a couple of days, so for now you can use the one in my room. Just knock before you enter."

She nodded, batting her lips to keep the colour intact. They reached the room, opposite the massive door with a gold label saying, "Prince Park Jimin".

Jimin opened her room, leading her into a suite more posh than any she'd ever stayed in. And she'd stayed in a lot of hotels. She walked in, running her fingers over the white couch, colourful cushions adding pops of colour. The centre table was glass with wood carvings, a majestic white swan arranged in the centre. Her bed was soft as she sunk into it, relishing the feel of luxury. The banisters of the bed were ornamental sandalwood, reaching up to the ceiling from where drapes of white lace and net poured in pleated waves.

The whole room was perfect. White and brown. Colourless, yet so colourful.

"Thank you," she whispered, fingers tracing the smooth tabletop of the minibar filled with bottles of Rosé.

"I'm glad you like it," Jimin murmured. She frowned at him. He still looked like he was out of it, "I'll get going now."

For the second time that day, her fingernails dug into her palms, all her apprehension intensified there. She needed to maintain conversation, "I'll have Yoongi bring over my luggage by today evening."

"Sure."

"Prince Jimin, can you send someone to help Yoongi bring all my luggage, he will surely need some help-"

"Why aren't you just asking me?" Jimin blurted out, leaning against the doorframe. He looked sickly, as though he hadn't eaten all day. The light flooding in through the floor-to-ceiling windows highlighted his hollowed cheeks, gaunt shadows forming around his eyes. His hair had no life left. She knew what he meant.

Taking a few steps towards him, she finally did what she was holding in. She raised a palm up to his hair, softly brushing it out of his lifeless eyes. Travelling down and cupping his cheek, she whispered, "What's wrong with you?"

"I don't know," he replied, leaning in to her palm. Softly coming closer and closer, their lips brushed, fireworks erupting at the point of contact.

But that, of course, was all in her mind.

As she stood facing his lean figure, hands clutched tightly together in front of her, all she could say was, "Asking you what, Jimin? I can't make you go and pack my suitcases."

He groaned, expecting another response, "Why are you avoiding me? Are you alright?"

"I'm not. I'm working. It's still my workplace, Jimin."

"Fine. I'll leave you now. If there's anything you need, well you know where my room is," he turned around and left, the suave walk she knew Jimin for reduced to a tired shuffle.

She gritted her teeth.

Why. Can't. I. Just. Talk. To. Him.

"AMBROSIA!" A voice boomed, alerting the working girl.

"Jimin?" She frowned, recognising the speaker walking in with the light behind him. He seemed to be carrying a bulky weight in his arms.

"You forgot to change," he huffed, sweat beading his forehead. He held out the bulky weight which turned out to be the coffee-coloured coat he was wearing. She stared at his white shirt. Or rather, what was his white shirt. It was speckled in colour, red to be specific. The whole abdominal region was crimson, scarlet intermingling with the cool tones, making an ocean of red.

Nodding vigorously as she brought herself back to reality, she took off the ebony blazer covering her barely-there top. Jimin's eyes widened, the pupils dilating.

Thin black straps ran over her shoulders to the front of the bustier, tan skin hugging her collarbones. Little peeks of lace now given a structure through the intricately embroidered bodice supporting her bust.

Jimin had to tear his eyes away from her. She turned around, greeting the mesmerised man with the view of the corset-top dipping down to the dimples at the bottom of her spine. Reluctantly holding the coat open for her to slip it on, he watched as her luscious brown hair swirled, almost reaching the buckle of her top. He had to remind himself not to run his hands through it.

Both hands through, she whisked around, facing him to fasten the buttons. It hit him again. That same smell of hotel shampoo. He suppressed the urge to ask her about it once again.

She was smoothening the laples now, smiling as she brushed the tan suede. Her lips were pulled up in a smile, one she often had on, but this one was rare. This one was genuine.

"Kangmin will be here in no time, so I'll go keep your jacket," he said, immediately rushing off with a reddish tinge in his cheeks.

The coat smelled amazing. It was intoxicating how familiar the scent was. The same cologne she'd experienced countless euphoric highs off of, mingling with something deeper. Turpentine and solvent, she recognised.

She knew this all too well. It tugged at the strings of her memories. Memories she'd wrapped in a little box, tied with a ribbon, kissed goodbye and stored away in the deepest part of her mind.

What space it occupied was now empty. Blank. A deep void. A vaccum.

But still, she didn't know exactly what it was. The scent projected happiness, yet happiness for what, she didn't understand. It represented a simpler life, one she would've lead if things hadn't gone downhill ten years ago.

"Miss Kang Ambrosia!" A deep bellow sounded, echoing off the pillars in the empty chapel.

"Good-Good afternoon, Prince Kangmin," she whimpered, trying to keep her voice level, "Mrs Aera."

His wife seemed like she was more interested in whether her one million Instagram followers validated the sparkle of her diamond earrings or not.

"How's my coronation going?" He plopped down on a chair-one she presumed the royal guards had specifically arranged for the crown prince. The chair placed for his wife was instead occupied by Kangmin's legs, propped up as though he owned the place. Well, he did, but not now. This was her workplace. Ambrosia's office for the next few months. No one disrespects it. Screw the prince.

Funny, she huffed to herself. Already screwed one of them.

She stifled a string of curses, "Pretty well, Your Highness. I believe I'll be done planning it well before time."

He didn't respond, eyes fixated on her chest. She pulled Jimin's coat on tighter.

"Prince Kangmin?" She folded her arms across her chest, trying to deviate his eyes.

"So Miss Kang, why don't you come sit here, hmm?" He raised an eyebrow, a disgusting smile revealing white teeth. His large palm was splayed across his thigh, indicating that that was her assigned seat.

"Uh, Your Highness-"

"Kangmin, your wife is right here. Please, please be respectful," Jimin begged, his appearance in the chapel proving to be a blessing for Ambrosia.

"And here's the wet blanket," Kangmin clicked his tongue, scratching the stubble on his chin, "Jimin, how was PR work today?"

Jimin's face visibly hardened. He clenched his jaw, the contours in his face prominent, "Good, brother."

"That's nice to hear. I was just asking Miss Kang to come join me here. But since my little baby brother is here, I'll just ask my wife. Aera!" He bellowed, turning to his poor wife. She seemed unconcerned as she plopped down on his lap, still engrossed in her phone. His grip was tight on her waist, squeezing the life out of the poor woman.

Ambrosia turned to Jimin, searching for some sort of indication that the scene in front of them wasn't real. That it was all part of some sick prank. She got nothing.

Each second in the presence of the future king felt like an eternity. As she explained the fair-ish layout of the event she'd come up with, his beady eyes kept travelling down to her chest. She bit back the urge to say something along the lines of Eyes up here, buddy.

The only thing that got her through was Jimin. He'd stand in front of her, inconspicuously blocking everything but her face from Kangmin's view.

"So, basically, all I have to do is walk up there, hold a stupid staff and let the priest make me wear a crown, and that's it. I'm king," Kangmin ran a hand through his black hair, snapped his fingers and pointed at the altar-to-be.

Ambrosia grimaced, "In a nutshell, yeah. That's all you have to do. But, Your Highness, isn't this entire event a little more emotional and important to you?"

"Who gives a shit? I definitely don't. I'll just be the King of Sykaria. It's not like Sykaria's anywhere on the map or something. It's useless. Now, if we were talking about America or Britain or something it would've been a big deal. What's the point in becoming king of some third world country?" He shrugged, fingers tracing his wife's neck as though she were a toy of some sort.

Jimin gritted his teeth and balled his fists. Sykaria was his country. His motherland. He could never understand how someone was willing to degrade something he would readily give his life for so easily.

He spoke, "You eat the food grown by the farmers of Sykaria. The clothes you wear, Sykarian. The water you drink, Sykarian. The air you breathe is perfumed by the flowers of Sykaria. Everything you do, every step you take, it's Sykaria that allows you to do so. You're indebted to this land. Don't pay her back, it's alright. But don't disrespect her."

"You and your motherland," Kangmin scoffed, "What do you even know about a mother's love? It's not like you ever got any-"

"Shut the fuck up," the silver-haired man warned, the veins in his neck popping. If she weren't so scared, Ambrosia would've found him irresistible. She instinctively grabbed his forearm, pulling his adrenaline-pumped body back to homeostasis. His heartbeat audibly calmed.

The crown prince seemed pleased with himself. He'd successfully gotten into his younger brothers head. Deeming his work as done, he got up, nearly toppling Aera over in the process. She shook her head, as though reconfiguring herself like a GPS and got right back into her phone. They left, Aera looking more like a puppy than a wife to the prince.

Jimin exhaled slowly, a staggering breath.

She finally unclenched her grip on his arm, studying his features for an answer. She noticed she'd never heard of the Queen of Sykaria. No one spoke about her.

Putting two and two together, the gears clicked into place. She wanted to console him, to tell him it'll all be alright. That she would be there for him.

But it was a lie. She couldn't. Another six months and she'd be gone.

She decided on a casual approach, "Did you just murder someone?" She pointed at his shirt.

"What? Oh, this? It's paint."

And that's when it returned. That feeling she wasn't able to place before.

Paint, she remembered. Paint. Paint. Paint.

Her childhood came rushing back to her, faster than adulthood had taught her to down a shot. A blank canvas atop an easel her father had worked extra night-shifts for a week to buy. Little dollops of oil paint on a makeshift palette she'd found in the city dump yard. A brush in her hand and one tucked behind her ear.

An ocean of possibilities. Stretched white cloth, begging to be coloured, painted in all shades of the rainbow. She would always start with a single stroke of purple. Always. Right down the centre.

But that, was a decade ago. She hadn't heard the word paint since then. She'd been craving something all these years, something deep, something congenital. And now, the feeling had a name: paint.

Author's note.

Hi everyone! Thanks for reading this chapter. Do vote and comment if you enjoyed, and do let me know about the chapter length. This one was about 7000 words long, and man, my fingers are killing me.

We hit 1K reads today, something I never expected to happen so soon. I really, really, really appreciate every one of you. Thank you.

And thank you for bearing with these sporadic updates, it's very difficult for me to put something just "okay" out there. I can't. I apologize.

Anyways, this chapter held a LOT of character development for Ambrosia. She's now understanding that work isn't her only purpose in life. She's learning to let loose.

Jimin, on the other hand. That's a whole ass issue, isn't it?

What do you think is up with him?

Comment your theories.

Personally, I feel like my favourite character is Jin. I have quite a lot of stuff planned out for him, but if you guys aren't as into him as I am, I might reconsider keeping him as a supporting character.

I've introduced the only missing member of BTS, Taehyung in this chapter. He's one of the most important, if you ask me. Also, I'm half in love with him, so there's no way I'll leave my baby out.

There's been a hell of a lot of "revealing" in this chapter. The last was full of foreshadowing and secrets and suspense, but I decided to open the floodgates in this one.

Since now is still a time of great struggle, I would like to request you all to leave a few words of encouragement for others to read. I will also do so eventually, but until then, spread the happiness!

Have a great day, everyone, and keep smiling!

I can't be the only one insanely attracted to the feminine Park Jimin.