Chapter Text
Nothing excites the public more than two men constantly placed side by side, each carrying the weight of the colors they represent.
Lee Sangwon, the Crown Prince, carries the burden of the Red dragon robe that the royal family has protected for centuries. He is the living heartbeat of the palace: rigid, traditional, and pulsing with a quiet dangerous authority. His bloodline is destined to uphold the country’s long history for generations to come.
On the other hand, Zhou Anxin symbolizes the pride of his father as the son of the Blue House’s Prime Minister. Anxin is the "Nation’s Future," a chaotic streak of cobalt across a grayscale political landscape. He is the wind, a constant threat to the fire that Sangwon upholds.
Two colors that were never supposed to mix. After all, many see purple as the color of mourning—the sign of an ending or a collision that hit too hard. But on the other hand, purple also symbolizes the balance between passion and stability. It is the quiet point where the fire and the wind finally learn to coexist… or not.
The Annual State Unification Gala was, in Anxin’s opinion, the most useless and exhausting night of the year. It was held annually inside the Imperial Palace’s glass pavilion, a shimmering, transparent cage where only the most exclusive guests gathered—the elite, the royals, the famous, and everyone currently sitting at the top of the social food chain.
In a country where modern politics and an ancient monarchy were forced to coexist, this union was merely a high-budget facade. To the public watching the live broadcast, the sight of the King and the Prime Minister sharing a stage was a symbol of stability. In reality, the foundation had long been ruined by the constant, bitter clashing between the two men. As the son of the latter, Anxin knew these things all too well, especially since he was being honed to be next in line. But did he care about any of it? No.
Anxin leaned against the stone railing of the outer balcony, he loosened his blue tie just enough to breathe after meeting and smiling in front of people he just met. Since he was being honed to be the next in line for the Blue House, he is expected to join these gatherings which he obviously hated to the guts.
“For someone titled as the “Nation’s Future”, you shouldn’t be here hiding, Anxin-ah.”
Anxin was startled, his shoulders tensing as that familiar voice vibrated through the air. It was a low, velvet tone that always seemed to carry a hint of power. He turned slowly and saw the last person he wished to face: Lee Sangwon.
“Your Royal Highness,” Anxin said, his voice dripping with forced etiquette. He hated this man to his bones, but Sangwon still outranked him. The blood in the Prince's veins was royal, and one day, he would be the King. Respect was a requirement, even if it felt like ash in Anxin's mouth.
“Why are you here alone?” Sangwon asked, stepping into the moonlight. His burgundy blazer looked like dried blood in the shadows, his eyes unreadable.
Anxin tried his best to be patient with this guy, but for some reason he just really hates this man’s guts.
“Why do you care?” Anxin replied sarcastically. “I don’t think we’re on good enough terms for you to be checking up on me. YOUR. ROYAL. HIGHNESS.”
Lee Sangwon and Zhou Anxin had known each other since they were children, but never in a good way. As the future of their respective families, they were constantly pitted against one another, from their grades, their friends, the outfits they wore, the sports they played, and even the food they ate. The public was constantly asking: who is better? The future King, or the future Prime Minister?
Sangwon didn't flinch. Instead, he stopped just inches away, invading Anxin’s personal space until the scent of cedarwood and sandalwood clung to the air between them.
Anxin felt his back press against the cold stone railing, trapped between the freezing marble and the radiating warmth of the Prince. Sangwon leaned in slightly, his eyes—dark, sharp, and entirely too observant—scanning Anxin’s face as if he were reading a secret message written in the tension of his jaw.
“You’re awfully fierce tonight,” Sangwon murmured, taking a slow step forward. “It’s a sharp contrast to how you were moaning my name last night begging me to go faster.”
Anxin’s breath hitched. For a heartbeat, the world stopped. The polished gala, the clinking glasses, and the looming shadows of their fathers disappeared, replaced by a frantic, vivid memory. He could almost feel the heat of the hotel room, the way Sangwon’s hands had felt against his skin, and the desperate, forbidden way they had clung to each other in the dark.
Before Sangwon could utter another word, Anxin lunged. In a flash of blue silk and adrenaline, he slammed his hand over the Prince’s mouth.
“Shut. The. Fuck. Up.” Anxin hissed, his face inches from Sangwon’s. His eyes were wide, glowing with a mix of fury and pure, unadulterated panic.
Sangwon didn't struggle. He simply looked at Anxin, his dark eyes sparkling with a dangerous, playful amusement. He reached up, his fingers circling Anxin’s wrist, not to pull anxin’s hand away, but to hold it there. The touch was electric, a burning heat that sent a jolt of butterflies straight to Anxin’s stomach.
“Don’t you dare tell anyone,” Anxin threatened, his voice a jagged whisper. “I mean it, Sangwon. If a single word of this gets out, I’ll ruin you. I don't care if you’re the prince, or the future king of this country, I swear!”
Sangwon slowly pulled Anxin’s hand away from his lips, but he didn't let go of his grip. He leaned closer, his lips brushing against the shell of Anxin’s ear. “You really have the guts to threaten the Crown Prince? You’re lucky I find your temper... entertaining.”
“You’re crazy,” Anxin snapped, his heart hammering against his ribs like a trapped bird.
“Am I?” Sangwon stepped even closer, trapping Anxin between the pillar and his own body. “How do you think the public would react if they knew the “Nation’s Future” and the “Crown Prince” was secretly fucking behind close doors? It would be the most beautiful tragedy the country has ever seen. What do you think? Should we reveal it to them, anxinie?”
“Your Highness? Master Anxin?”
Sangwon’s head eunuch stood at the glass doors, his face a mask of professional neutrality despite the tension radiating off the two men. “The banquet requires your presence for the joint address. The King and the Prime Minister are waiting.”
Startled by the intrusion, Anxin pushed Sangwon back with a force fueled by sheer embarrassment. The Prince stumbled slightly.
Anxin was surprised, his face flushing a deep, embarrassed red. But, he couldn't help himself to curse Sangwon. “it’s your fault for being so... CRAZY. Move out of my way! asshole!”
The eunuch’s eyes nearly bulged out of his head. “Master Anxin! You cannot speak to the Prince in such a—!”
Sangwon held up a hand, silencing his aide. A rare, genuine chuckle escaped his lips, a sound that was rich and warm. He stepped forward, not to scold Anxin, but to gently pat the top of Anxin’s head, smoothing a stray lock of hair that had fallen out of place during their talk.
“Let him be,” Sangwon said, his voice softer than Anxin had ever heard it. “He’s always had a bit of a temper. Let’s go. You better come faster Anxin”
Sangwon turned and walked toward the ballroom, his cape-like blazer fluttering behind him with every steady, regal stride. Anxin stood in the shadows of the balcony for a long moment, his hand trembling as he touched the spot on his head where Sangwon’s palm had rested. The butterflies weren't just fluttering anymore; they were going crazy inside his stomach. He is swearing inside I hate you Lee Sangwon.
Inside the hall, the atmosphere was suffocatingly grand. The King and the Prime Minister stood on the elevated stage, gold-rimmed glasses raised high as the crowd roared with cheers of "Long live the union!" what a showoff.
Anxin took his place among his father's staff, while Sangwon stood with the royal family. Across the sea of expensive gowns and tailored suits, their eyes met—heavy, silent glances that felt like a secret language only they spoke.
When the gala finally ended, Anxin felt like he was about to boil over. He marched toward his security detail near the palace gates. “I’m taking my own car. Go home. I need some air.”
“But Master Anxin, the Prime Minister gave strict orders for your escort—”
“I’m a grown man and I’m exhausted,” Anxin snapped. The exhaustion, alcohol, and his unwanted feelings were taking over him “Leave. Now.”
Reluctantly, the guards retreated. Anxin sighed, walking toward his car, but before he could reach for the handle, a sleek, black imperial sedan pulled up beside him. The heavy back window rolled down with a quiet hiss, revealing Sangwon. He had his glasses on, his face illuminated by the soft blue glow of an ipad in his lap.
“Get in,” Sangwon said, his tone leaving no room for argument. “You’ve had enough to drink that your driving would be a national disaster. I’ll have my driver drop you off.”
“I’m perfectly fine, Sangwon,” Anxin huffed, though the world was starting to tilt slightly.
“Anxin. Get in the car.” Sangwon looked him in the eye, and Anxin just felt the need to follow this man’s order. deep inside, he knows that he wants this too.
Defeated, Anxin pulled open the door and climbed in. The interior of the car felt like a different world—silent, smelling of rich leather and the Prince’s signature scent. The door closed with a solid, expensive thud, sealing them in.
The ride through the neon-lit streets of Seoul was quiet. Sangwon didn't say a word; he stayed focused on his work, his fingers scrolling through his schedule and checking some palace affairs on his ipad. Anxin sat in the opposite corner, staring at Sangwon’s profile. He hated how the passing streetlights traced the sharp line of Sangwon’s jaw, how the glasses made him look good, made him look… unreachable that anxin wanted to get him… well he did already.
Sangwon finally set the ipad down and removed his glasses, rubbing the bridge of his nose. Without looking over, he asked, “What?”
“You’re so annoying,” Anxin muttered.
Sangwon finally turned his head, a look of genuine amusement and disbelief on his face. He was the most powerful young man in the nation, and here was Anxin, treating him like a nuisance in his own car. He chuckled softly. “I’m sorry, what did you say?”
“I said,” Anxin repeated, shifting his weight so he was facing Sangwon fully, his voice dropping into a low, dangerous hum, “you’re so annoying.”
“You’re drunk, Anxin-ah,” Sangwon said, though he didn't look away.
“Maybe,” Anxin breathed, his gaze dropping shamelessly to Sangwon’s lips. “But you’re hot.”
The air in the car thickened instantly. Sangwon’s eyes widened for a split second, a flicker of surprise breaking through his royal composure. He glanced toward the rearview mirror, where his driver sat in silence, then reached for the center console. With a sharp click, a thick, frosted glass barrier slid up, sealing the back seat into its own private, soundproof world.
Anxin smirked, a slow, predatory look that didn't quite hide the way his heart was hammering. “Took you long enough.”
He didn't wait for an invitation. Anxin crawled across the seat, his movements fluid and reckless, and climbed into Sangwon’s lap. He tangled his fingers into that perfectly styled hair.
But as their lips met, the dynamic shifted.
Sangwon redirected the kiss. His hands, steady and strong, slid from Anxin’s waist to the back of his neck, his fingers firming their grip until Anxin was the one being held in place. Sangwon leaned back just enough to force Anxin to stretch, asserting his control even from a seated position.
Sangwon broke away just a fraction of an inch, his dark eyes burning into Anxin’s, their noses brushing. His thumb traced Anxin’s lower lip, pressing down with a quiet authority that demanded attention.
"You like to start things you can't finish, don't you?" Sangwon whispered, his voice a velvet command. "If I'm so annoying, Anxin... then why are you the one shaking in my lap?"
Anxin tried to find a witty comeback, but his breath was gone, lost to the heat radiating between them. He realized then that while he was the wind that shook the trees, Sangwon was the earth that didn't move unless he chose to.
The Prince didn't wait for an answer. He pulled Anxin back down for another heated kiss.
The Red of the Palace and the Blue of the Republic finally bled into a deep, hidden purple, leaving the rest of the world behind as the car disappeared into the shadows of the city.