✔️ Predicted 𓆩♡𓆪 | y.jw

Prologue

"I can predict your future. Would you like to make a deal?"

✧༺♥༻∞

Jungwon flinched to the side, just barely missing the glass that shattered onto the wall where he had been only seconds ago. The six year old glanced with wide eyes and shallow breaths at the red streaks of blood slowly trickling down the wall from the glass, its broken fragments glinting in the dimly lit lights on the ground. The double doors located on the wall opposite to Jungwon opened softly. Three identically dressed maids quielty padded in.

"Leave."

King Yang's sharp voice rang throughout the large dining room. With just a single word, all three of the maids scrambled out of the room just as quickly as they had come in.

Jungwon quickly swallowed, eyes quivering as his father turned back to him and slowly made his way towards the young boy. Each of his steps were soundless, courtesy of being a vampire. As King Yang glided closer, Jungwon tensed up and braced himself for the impact of a slap. Instead, he was met with a laugh from his father. His mouth fell open, unsure of what to make of the scene.

In front of him, his father had tears falling out of his eyes from laughing. The king patted Jungwon's shoulder and kept his hand there, clamping onto the shaking boy. He leaned towards Jungwon, so close that Jungwon could practically smell the blood on his father's breath.

"How in the world", his father said, still laughing, "did I ever get such a weak son like you?"

The hand on Jungwon's shoulder tightened in a deathly grip, causing the boy to let out a small whimper.

"You're a weakling." his father whispered. "Getting sick every single day, barely even being able to lift a finger out of bed. That brain of yours isn't going to save you when you inherit the throne. The people want to see power. Not that idiotic compassionate self of yours. You're no son of mine."

The King's nails pressed into his son's shoulders, drawing blood and deep bruises. Jungwon cried out, hand shooting up in a desperate attempt to get his father's hands off of him.

Tears brimmed inside Jungwon's eyes, looking straight into his father's eyes.

"Half-blooded feist." King Yang hissed into Jungwon's face, before wrenching his hand away and making his way out of the room. Jungwon was left panting alone in the room, slowly slouching against the wall. The abandoned glass pieces sliced into his leg, but he paid no attention to it. He put his head into his hands, trying to swallow the sound of his soft cries.

Everything his father said was true. He was weak and unfit for the crown. Jungwon had never gone a full month without catching a bedridden sickness.

More importantly, he was a half blooded feist.

Jungwon was King Yang's first and only son, his mother being one of the King's many mistresses. Now dead, of course. The Queen kills off all of the mistresses that were impregnated by the King, but somehow missed Jungwon in the process. At times Jungwon wished that she had properly done her job. He took a shuddering breath.

Half blooded feist.

Sickly weakling.

Mistress's son.

From then on, Jungwon took his Father's harsh words to heart.