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A year later
Rebel attacks. The Selection.
These two shouldn't be put together in one sentence, but The News just did. "Despite the Increasing Rebel Attacks in Many Regions, the Selection Will Still be Held." And this was basically the highlight of the day.
"Are there seriously no intelligent people in the court?" I turned the TV off and threw the remote on the table. "At this point they're just a circus. Fucking hilarious."
Jisoo cleared her throat, looking around to make sure that no one was in the dressing room except for us two. "Tone it down. If someone hear and report this, you will be beheaded."
"Let's address that too. What kind of king would silence criticism and turn the press into his puppets?"
"The bad ones," Jisoo commented. "Enough of the political talk, we can continue this discussion at home."
I almost rolled my eyes but didn't. "Fine."
"Did you see the picture earlier? Of Prince Jungkook?"
I stared at her from her reflection on the mirror. "Is he not a part of the political talk you mentioned?"
She shrugged off her shoulder. "What I want to say is not at all political. I just think he looks good. More mature than the last time we saw him."
Right. That day. The cursed winter. How could I forget?
The Prince breathed nothing but luxury when his people whose life he should've been responsible for weren't sure about their survival. Driving around for his secret rendezvous, like he got absolutely nothing to worry about. Saying that I hated him just couldn't describe the strong, almost lethal, anger that I had. For the very first time that day, I wished he would've just died because of the cold.
I knew that I had zero clue about who he truly was, nor the effort he's been doing to solve the issues in Eastasia. Maybe he was on his way to stop war, maybe he had tried to end people's misery before, maybe he was different from his tyrannical father, maybe he was struggling too. But every possibilities was outweighed by the hopeless, desperate faces that I see every month. How they wished to die instead of living like animals, scraping for food and pity from wealthy people, lying down sick for months, waiting for the day diseases eat them up alive. I wished I could say I've done enough, but I haven't. Whatever I did mean nothing and it changed nothing. They were still the "Untouchables" who couldn't fight for their own life cause they were not given the chance to.
Sure some of them are no doubt bad people, but what about their kids? What happened to their childhood? What they will be when they grow up? Will they even reach adulthood? They are innocent who are labelled as bad the moment they were born, boxed in a social system as "Untouchables".
Witnessing that kind of desperation with his own eyes a year ago, The Prince had done absolutely nothing to fix it. Every visit I paid to the shelter, all I saw were the faces of broken people. And now with the rising rebellion he persisted on holding The Selection? Yeah, go to hell.
