POV: Ryu Ha Joon
After Nari's conversation with Park Miyoung is over, Hajoon takes out the earphone and replaces it in its tiny box before returning Sunwoo's phone to her. She is sitting at the front.
So she is also a ballerina.
How did he not notice? It is there in her movements, a gracefulness. Like his mother. Hajoon's mother Yoon Jandi, was a well-known ballerina before marrying his father. She left her career and focused on ruling and raising him after his father changed the rules for her. The ballroom on the second floor was where she would often dance.
When Hajoon was little, he would sit in the ballroom, on the ground and watch his mother soar in the air, like a swan, with her hands outstretched. "I have lost the touch…" she would say. She was too hard on herself.
Hajoon told her she was the most amazing ballerina. Hearing that from him and his tiny claps after she stopped, it would light up her face.
Thinking about that moment in the ballroom, also brings back another memory. Memory of the last time he saw her. In that wretched memory, the expressions on her face were….
"Water," he says to Sunwoo. She opens the compartment beside her and hands him a water bottle. He keeps his expressions controlled as he takes some sips.
Their car is on its way to the Presidential House. Twenty minutes; he can play a game.
He returns the bottle and pulls out his phone. Just one quick match of Legendary Heroes will release the tension. He has a long day ahead of him.
How nice would it be to just wander in the streets of Seoul like Hae Nari?To have no one recognize him and to simply have a walk without all these eyes on him.
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POV: Ryu Ha Joon
Hajoon is the last to enter the meeting hall. Everyone seems to have been waiting for him. Everyone rises, bows, then greets him in unison. He takes his seat at the head. Sunwoo stands beside him.
"Have a seat everyone," his stern voice resonates in the expansive hall. He doesn't make any apologies for being late.
Around 40 elite royal guards march over and stand against the walls. They are masked. Hajoon notes President Choi's withering looks. He is glaring at them.
After everyone's seated, sharp words soon start flying across the long table. The table is lined with all the men who would cause the country to dive into chaos if someone were to blow up this room; Naval Chief, Army Chief (also the Chief of Defense Staff), Air Force Chief, Director of RIS (Royal Intelligence Services), the president, the PM, and several other ministers and secretaries.
Hajoon leans back, crosses one leg over other and watches everything calmly. They must have been dying with impatience. It's mostly President Choi and PM Shin
"It is a great opportunity to bring in a 100 billion dollars to our economy," President Choi says. He is a shrewd looking man with a bitter mouth. His eyebrows are lowered.
"We have plenty of other such opportunities where we don't have to exchange our weapons and forces," PM Shin replies, following the script they had already decided yesterday. He is 56, with hair streaked grey and carrying a calm face.
Hajoon nods quietly. The movement doesn't go unnoticed.
President Choi addresses him directly, "Your Majesty, you must see the significance of this military assistance. Karswell needs defense forces merely to retrieve their spy from Westerland. They will only attack the city closest to the borders."
Hajoon looks at him coldly. "We have intelligence that the spy isn't their only goal. Also, they will attack civilians."
"There are some problems with the intelligence report. It can't be trusted."
"It could be a ploy to worsen our diplomatic relationship with Karswell," the Home Secretary. As always, on the President's side. She throws a glance at the Director of RIS sitting nearly at the end of the table. Oh Jiwon is in her mid 40s, carries a neat bun at the base of her skull and a foundation shade that doesn't match her hands.
Director Han Changsoo is the only one drinking his tea. No one has touched their cups. He acts as if no one has criticised him.
Hajoon replies in a sombre tone. "The intelligence is accurate. And my decision isn't merely based on this one intelligence report. Karswell has a history of harming civilians during military operations, even when it could have been avoided."
Seeing no willingness here, President Choi turns to the Chief of Defense Staff, CDS. A stern looking man in his early 50s.
"General Kim, you have been silent. What's your view?"
"Our troops are ready to serve wherever they are assigned," he replies shortly.
"Be frank," Hajoon urges.
General Kim lowers his head in respect. "We follow His Majesty's commands."
His answer is according to Hajoon's prediction.
But President Choi must have expected this too. Something must have been preplanned. It is as if they have been waiting for this exact moment. Ministers he did not expect to oppose him, start opposing. Even the Chief of Air Force explains a meticulous, well thought out plan to assist Karswell while addressing all of Hajoon's 'fears'. Arguments go back and forth again. Everyone takes part in it except for Director Han.
Hajoon's blood simmers in his veins.
They dare go against his words so openly! He glares darkly at these people, his eyes narrowed. They avoid making direct eye contact with him. The Air Force Chief's eyebrow has a slight perspiration above them. He wipes it with a handkerchief.
Only President Choi is bold enough to look him in the eye and say, "Your Majesty, perhaps we should cast our votes now?"
That man is smug. He is sure of winning the votes. He plans to pressure Hajoon into giving in to the majority's opinion.
Hajoon puts on the coldest smile. His gaze remains hard. "President Choi, you haven't had your tea."
"Pardon, Your Majesty?"
"Your tea," Hajoon seethes. The smile vanishes. "You should have your tea before we continue."
Colour drains from their dear President's face.
A wave of fear ripples over the table. Hajoon can see it reflected in their pale complexions and wide eyes. Even the ones who aren't afraid, are taken aback.
Near the end of the table, Director Han continues to sip his tea.
In 1993, a PM kept going against Hajoon's granduncle, the ruler before Hajoon's father. One time during a meeting, tea was served to everyone. No one had it. But his granduncle insisted the PM should drink it. He dropped dead right after, foaming at his mouth.
However, his granduncle was never charged.
The PM's death was ruled as a heart attack. The media never covered it. No social media existed at that time. The incident was only revealed to the media recently.
But everyone in this field knows two things:
One, the PM was not the only one. It is said that ministers feared walking into a meeting room with him. That's how he managed to rule for 37 years, till his death. All those people were not innocent. They were–one way or another–a threat to national stability.
Two, Hajoon is very inspired by his granduncle; His reign so far has also seen mysterious deaths.