❝ i used to like liquor to get me inspired ❞

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The perfect utopia of spring and altruistic flowers turned the obscure soil into gold and dreary skies silver and a man of arrogance with lavish treasure resided in it, contrasting the landscape of the wonderful kingdom. He strolled on the corridor with his skin concealed by the silky hanbok designed by the men who create wonder with their art; even his garment had the utmost perfectness. He scornfully glared at the wooden walls adjacent to him waiting for the best craftsman to fill the void wood with their magic of paint and colors.

"Sir Tae-suk, there has been a break in the Kim residence," a guard rambled quickly with heavy breaths and sweat covering his forehead. Under the cover of his neutral expression, the guard was scared for his life. The lord was a man who believes he achieved the perfect haven and breaking out to him that there was a flaw would be offering one's own head to the prosecutor.

Tae-suk's cast deformed into a null expression, putting his effort to suppress his rising anger. "Was it a robbery? What artifacts have been stolen?"

The guard gazed down, a certain space in his heart feeling relieved. "None was taken, my lord."

The lord couldn't help his curiosity getting the best of him when he put out his next question, wondering what was the motive of the thief to break into his palace in the morning and leave without stealing anything so he could reward himself for his delusional bravery. "I would require the details, fool."

"The thief didn't steal anything, my lord but, he left something," the guard bowed hastily yet, respectfully pulling out a scroll from his pouch and lending it to his lord.

Tae-suk impatiently snatched it from the guard and unveiled the mystery of the thief, and revealed before himself was a majestic art of vibrant paint and colors conjured from the potion of heavens and tears of the moon. Worthy enough to be hung up in his chambers.

A paint so mesmerizing that would complete his imperfect palace.

"bring me the thief," he ordered with his stoic voice arrogant as ever.

***

"It's been three fucking days and you worth-for-nothing guards couldn't even catch a goddamn thief!" Tae-suk yelled with all his might and it made the men shudder in fear. Such impact his voice extended, digging into the deep of their souls and calling them unworthy.

The head chief of the guards stepped forward to represent the men standing there unwillingly and petrified, taking initiation to settle the fuss down. "I don't dare ask for an apology from our liege because of our incompetent behavior, my lord. But I promise you, we won't fail you again."

A malevolent chuckle fled Tae-suk's lips, his blood-lust lingering near the guards. "You won't, I know," his whisper ascended into a growl when he removed the sword in his hanbok, slashing the chief's neck in a fraction of a second.

"Because there won't be any next time," Tae-suk finished, placing his sword back and the guards felt their breath stop at the grim sight of their chief, floating in the pool of his own blood. Tae-suk didn't even flinch after murdering an innocent man, disclosing how much desperate he was for the presence of the thief. 

"Do any of you object to my order?" Tae-suk landed his eyes on the remaining guards, shivering under his cold gaze. 

"No, my lord!" Their shout almost came out as a whimper, making Tae-suk contemplate whether they were even men or not. "Bring the thief to me today if you don't want your wife and children to watch your body burn in the stakes," he sternly commanded, his words devouring the fragments of hope in the guard's hearts.

"Now get out," he snapped his fingers and as on cue, they scurried out fastly without murmuring about how cruel their lord was because words can't define how much of a monster this man blossomed into.

With the guards letting him in solitary inside his chambers, Tae-suk sighed heavily walking up to his affluent bed. His hands sneaked to the wine as red as blood and gulped it down in a go, feeling the liquor dragging him into a paradise of sweet and bitter dreams and dizziness wrapped his mind. Alcohol gave him comfort more than the blood coursing through his veins, a beautiful escape and a melody to his life. It was perfect.

His veiny hands traced the eagle emblem on his silver wine glass, imagining a paintbrush dancing on the white canvas. He was on cloud nine just imagining the possibility of sweeping his hands through the delicate hands that drew him a wonder. Oh how much he wished his imagination to become a reality, and he would give anything for it.

His coal hair locks fell on his face when he turned left, greeted by the giant window in his chamber. The morning sun glowed with its imperial honor of being the only source of light in this dark world, the orange palette gently blended with the blue sky and exotic birds glided through the cotton clouds. The golden streaks enlightened his honey face and those forest-green orbs shined under the blessing of serenity. A moment the commoners cherished, and Tae-suk loathed. 

Beauty doesn't exist, it's just a part of the imagination of those who lived in the ugly world created as an escape. That's what he believed until, then, the day his hands soared over the painting. His flesh and bones cultivated bliss, wondering even heaven couldn't offer him such serendipity. That art, the strokes, the paint, it was the alternate image of beauty.

Tae-suk hummed himself a euphony, and he heard knocks on his door that made him stop.

"What is it?" He ran his hands inside his silk sheets, feeling the soft material soothe his rough flesh. The guard shouted, to make sure his words would reach the lord despite the huge barrier. "We found the thief, my lord!" Those were the words he was destined for, the words that were placid as a dream. His muscles tensed up, and an innocent smile caged his lips. "Bring the thief in!" His tone was monotone and his eyes were weaved with joy when he shouted.

The door creaked open, and two men dragged the thief in.

A woman? he thought. Her eyes were brown, normal, and natural but, the glow in them was anything, but mundane. She had honey-kissed skin that made him wonder if she was the prodigy of the sun, with such fierceness and bravery knitted to her bone.  A well-sculpted nose sat at the center, adorably small. Her lips were gravely dangerous, pink as a rose and red as a thorn. 

"Let me go!" She wailed at the two men detaining her, rendering her efforts waste.

Tae-suk's eyes were filled with amusement as if he was entertained by the scene created before him. He walked toward her, his hands brushed against hers, and it gave him happiness more than he ever imagined. "It must be you, who painted that wonder!" his suggestive tone made her skin shudder in disgust. 

"I am no painter, you have been mistaken. Let me go, you fiends!" she barked with cipher fear of the monster before.

Tae-suk pressed her hands, it stung like a bee but, she didn't even recoil from her harsh tone. "Your hands tell me otherwise," he overturned her palm, stained with different colors of paint.

"What if I am?" she scowled at him with no esteem or any admiration for his power and status. The guards could feel nothing but, sorry for the woman wondering which lake her dead body would be floating on for raising her voice at him with consciousness. Tae-suk apparently could feel anger barely, felicity dominated his system.

He gripped her hands tight, "Such beauty and magic your hand creates. Would you paint a portrait of me?" 

"I would rather have a sword impaled in my chest to draw a painting of such an arrogant fool!" she spat enraged.

Tae-suk snapped his fingers and the other men left dejectedly, and he roamed around the women like a predator. "Then so be it," his hands traced the sword attached to his robe. "Would you spell your name? I would love to hear the name of the painter who was blessed with talent by heaven's grace," he added but, she rejected his kind behavior once again.

He detached the sword swiftly and posted it near her throat, his eyes promising he wouldn't hesitate to slit her throat. "Bow before me," his hoarse voice commanded with ignorance, self-esteem reeking from his green eyes.

"I bow for no man."

"Then you will bow for a king," he smiled.