Samurai ↔ Nishimura Riki

thirty two

hi. does anyone remember i existed? no? okay lol heres an update although a lil late and short.

also, i may have planned 15 chapters to the end a few weeks ago but that is not official. for example this idea popped in my mind a few days ago and i decided to write it cuz why not. 

Everything hurt.

His head throbbed. His heart pounded. His legs were practically jelly. And he couldn't think straight.

Blood roared in his ears as he staggered down the hallway, attempting to maintain his balance. How long had Riki wandered in the palace with no clear destination in mind? How much time had passed: 30 minutes or hours? His brain was fried and just thinking made his head hurt. His mind was also a jumbled mess, every thought scattered and random. His only sense of clarity of the situation he got into was his subconscious gratefully thinking that no one was there to see him in such a state. It was late after all, probably a few hours past midnight. The sun could be rising anytime soon.

Stumbling, he forced himself to not buckle his knees and fall to the ground. The wine was definitely kicking in, the alcohol coursing through his veins. He cursed himself for being so foolish to think he could drink away his problems like a drunkard.

God, how would his parents think, seeing him like this?

His vision was blurry. He closed his eyes for a moment, trying to clear the haziness of his eyesight. Riki could only imagine how stupid he looked right now. His face was most likely more flushed than a tomato. He probably looked like an old man with a broken leg as his motor movements were uncoordinated and impaired. In fact, Riki barely caught himself in time when he nearly tripped on some object. He let out another swear word.

Nothing was making sense. He had a vague memory of what happened at the banquet. Was his father there too? Groaning, he clutched his chest where his heart was. Why did alcoholics bother indulging in such a 'delicacy?' He felt horrible. Tired. Weak. And everything hurt, not only on a physical level.

He tried to steady himself by placing one arm on the wall. Why had he drank so much again? Riki suddenly felt the urge to vomit and bit his tongue, forcing down the bile threatening to rise from his throat.

Swaying slightly, he tried to clear his mind, failing miserably to find the answer to his question. Then, it came to him. Hyewon.

They had been dating for a while now. He remembered her fierce expression whenever she argued with him. The way her raven hair whipped around when she fought. The day she had saved him from the mercenary. And for a moment, a dreamy smile appeared on his face only to be quickly replaced by a frown. She had defended his mother's killer... right, that was one of the reasons he had gotten into this state.

The anger he had held earlier had already dissipated. Riki didn't feel furious... more of a disappointment and sadness. He missed her. His mother had already passed away, his father barely had any contact with him, Hyewon was the only one left that he could trust. Besides, Jungwon, but he hadn't talked to the envoy's son in weeks, maybe in months.

Hyewon's name was at the tip of his tongue, but he couldn't make himself say it. He was crazy, thinking of calling her in the middle of night when many were already asleep. A laugh burbled from him. Oh, he was clearly delirious. Maybe even insane. But if there had been one thing good about being overly tipsy, it was that he could be truthful to himself without his pride getting in the way.

Riki squinted into the dark, moonlight-lit hallway. Were those gleaming torches on the wall? He faintly recalled glowing torches in the wing of the palace where his chamber was. Perhaps he was near his bedroom? He could use some sleep now while he sobered up.

That was his first mistake. Stupid him, for thinking that the torches were only mounted near his room.

Mustering the rest of his strength, he forced himself to walk towards the torches. Two grand doors with a golden plague hanging greet him. He paused. Did he have double doors to his bedroom? His memory was too jumbled and addled to provide a sufficient answer. He shrugged and pushed the doors open. It wouldn't hurt to look and see, right?

Oh, how wrong he was.

He blinked his eyes at the sudden brightness of the room. It was still relatively dim, but mind you, he had been walking aimlessly in the dark for probably hours.

Riki wasn't confident, but even through his drunkenness, he could tell this wasn't his room. It was faintly familiar though. Was there anyone here? It seemed strangely empty for a place with its chandeliers still glowing. Whatever. He might as well explore this place as he was here.

Suppressing the urge to yawn, he glanced around his surroundings as he walked down the aisle. Shelves? Books? Tables and chairs? He sniffed the air. What was the word for places filled with books...? Archives? Offices? Libraries?

Wandering aimlessly, he spotted a section of the room filled with armchairs. How comfortable it would be, to sink in the chair and fall asleep, never to be woken up again. Any sense of alertness had been dulled with his sleepiness. Even if this wasn't his room, he could cuddle onto an armchair and sleep for the night. Yes, that seemed like a good idea. His subconscious mind, however, seemed to sober up a bit and whispered in his mind. Should he really do this? He shushed that part of his mind and made himself not overthink it. It was a harmless action. Riki was too lazy to find his room at this point anyways.

As he wobbled his way to the piece of furniture, he noticed, even in his daze, that the library was, in fact, not as empty as he had initially thought. To his surprise, there were two figures, one boy on girl, lying on a red sofa next to the armchair he had seen previously before. The girl had her head resting on the boy's shoulder and both were sleeping. Riki blinked at the sight. Wait, isn't that...

Hyewon?

He froze, rooted to the ground. What was she doing here? Who the hell was the person she was leaning on? Although he had indulged much, he felt himself sober up at the sight. Racking his brain for an answer, he realized that it was a very familiar person: Prince Jake. Another prince with Hyewon? His fists instinctively curled into fists and though his senses were dulled, he could still feel anger rising from him. Riki growled. How dare he let his girl lean on him? He paused before another fleeting thought entered his mind. What if Hyewon was cheating on him...?

He shook his head. No, no, no. She wouldn't... right? He didn't think she was the type of person to do that, especially being a Chiye. But still, the chilling thought lingered. The more he thought about it, the harder he stared at Hyewon and Jake resting peacefully, unaware of his inner turmoil. Riki couldn't deny how good they looked together, like an actual couple in love. He wondered, did he and Hyewon ever look like that with each other. They were two oddballs, a royal and a bastard child who was partially noble. Could he even promise marriage and dedication to her for the rest of their lives? His father may have already picked a spouse for him, he thought in disgust. War restricted them. But if Hyewon and Jake were to become a couple? The Northern kingdom was in no such trouble nor need for allies. And as far as he knew, Jake had not taken any romantic interest in anyone so far. If he wished so, he could easily offer her his hand in marriage. He had the capability that Riki did not have. And the very thought of Jake marrying Hyewon made his stomach churned uneasily.

A shudder traveled through his body. Riki wanted to push Jake off the sofa from touching Hyewon. But he didn't. He couldn't afford to stir trouble in the library and have his relationship with Hyewon, assuming it was still a relationship, exposed. He didn't think either of them were prepared for that.

But he couldn't watch any further either. He wanted to burn the sight of the two cuddling on the sofa from his eyes. Taking a deep breath, he tore his eyes away from them and forcibly unclenched his fists. He could vent out his anger mixed with confusion somewhere else. By now, he had completely sobered out, although his mind remained divided.

Without sparing one last look at his lover with someone else, he slipped out of the library as if he had never been there in the first place.