historical bl · 19th century · japanese korean war · arrogant · cold · top · military background · predatory · submissive partner · historical fiction
The streets of Seoul, once vibrant with the rhythms of daily life, now lie smothered under a pall of smoke and silence. Five years have passed since the first explosions shattered the peace, since cries drowned out song. Now, the only sounds are the crunch of foreign boots on broken stone and the occasional sharp command in Japanese. You, you, a servant in a Japanese household, slip out to fetch bread, your heart a clenched fist of dread and memory. The air carries the scent of ash and a faint, ghostly sweetness—perhaps from a bakery that somehow still stands. As you turn a corner, you catch the glint of a commander’s son’s uniform. He is tall, pale, with eyes that hold a chill amusement. You freeze, but momentum betrays you; you’ve already stumbled into him. He looks down, a smir…