ETHEREAL BLUE

NOTE- "Welcome to ETHEREAL BLUE, a tale of love and self-discovery set against the rich cultural backdrop of Korea and Nigeria. As you immerse yourself in this story, please note that the dialogue and narrative will blend elements of both Korean and Nigerian accents, dialects, and language patterns.

To fully appreciate the emotional depth and cultural nuances of this story, we invite you to use your imagination and 'hear' the words in your mind's ear. Envision the rhythmic cadence of Korean and Nigerian speech, and allow the emotions and intentions behind the words to shine through.

In this way, we hope you'll experience the beauty of cultural fusion and the universality of love, as our characters navigate the complexities of identity, family, and devotion. Thank you for joining us on this journey!"

PROLOGUE

BUCHI POV

The locker room hummed quietly, the soft sound of water dripping mixing with the steady rhythm of my breath. I leaned back against the cold tiles, feeling the chill seep into my skin after a punishing 5,000-meter run. Sweat beaded on my skin, tracing its path down my chest, sparkling beneath the dim lights. My reflection in the metal lockers caught my eye for a moment-dark skin glowing, muscles tense, shoulders heaving with each breath. I wiped my face with a towel, letting the solitude of the room soak into my bones.

Then I turned.

And froze.

Time seemed to slow, the sound of the dripping water fading into an eerie quiet. A figure stood a few feet away, someone I didn't recognize. His presence was like a shock to my senses-out of place, yet as if he owned the space. He didn't even need to try.

He was tall, posture perfect yet relaxed, his figure dressed in the most unusual outfit I'd ever seen. Layers of silk and intricate embroidery cascaded down his body like something from another time, the rich colors catching the faint glow of the fluorescent lights. His hair, long and neatly tied back, framed his face like a work of art. High cheekbones, sharp jawline, lips too perfect for any man. And his eyes-deep, dark, almost impossible to look away from-seemed to see through me, not just look at me, but into me.

But it wasn't just his face. No, his gaze didn't meet mine at first. His eyes followed the trail of a single drop of sweat that slid down my neck, down my chest, and stopped just above my navel. His expression was hard to place-somewhere between awe and confusion. He didn't move, and the stillness around him felt like the world itself had stopped.

I swallowed, suddenly aware of every inch of my body. My fingers clenched around the towel, but my voice came out steady, even though my chest felt tight with something I couldn't name.

"Abeg... you dey lost or something?" I asked, my tone sharper than I meant. "Wetin be this one? You dey shoot historical drama or something?"

His eyes flicked up, finally locking with mine, and for a heartbeat, I forgot how to breathe. There was a sadness in those eyes, something that went deeper than time itself, like a soul worn by years of longing. He didn't say anything. He just stood there, staring at me with an intensity that made my pulse race.

I blinked.

And just like that, he was gone.

Vanished like smoke in the wind. One second, he was there, the next, the air where he stood was empty. As if he never existed.

My heart raced in my chest, the towel slipping from my hands. The silence in the locker room pressed in on me now, thick and heavy. Was I imagining things? Maybe the exhaustion was playing tricks on my mind. But no. I couldn't shake the image of his face, those eyes that seemed to stop time.

Whoever he was-or whatever just happened-something told me this wasn't the last time I'd see him.

MIN SOO POV

I wasn't supposed to be here. Not like this.

The bathroom was humid, filled with the faint echo of dripping water, and the world around me seemed to blur, hazy from the steam. I was struggling, battling the black hole that threatened to drag me into oblivion. My chest heaved, my legs weak as I leaned against the cold tile wall, fighting to remain tethered to this plane.

And then, just as I was about to give up, he appeared.

It wasn't subtle. It wasn't quiet. One moment, I was alone in my torment, and the next, he was there, stepping out from behind the lockers like he belonged here. My entire body froze, my struggle momentarily forgotten.

I'd never seen anyone like him before.

His skin was dark, smooth like polished bronze, glistening under the fluorescent light. Beads of water clung to his chest, tracing the ridges of muscle that rippled with every breath he took. His chest was broad, tapering down to a narrow waist, his six-pack defined and flawless. Fine hairs trailed from the center of his chest down past his navel, disappearing beneath the towel wrapped loosely around his hips.

And the water... My gaze followed a single droplet as it dripped from his damp hair, traveling down his neck, gliding over his collarbone, and sliding down his chest, carving a slow, torturous path toward his belly button.

Why can't I stop looking?

I blinked, forcing myself to tear my eyes away, but it was no use. My gaze was drawn back like a magnet, as though he was pulling me in without even trying. He moved with an effortless confidence, unaware of the effect he had, the way the air seemed to shift around him.

What is this feeling? Why does he look... beautiful?

I shouldn't be thinking this. I shouldn't be staring. And yet, I couldn't stop myself. Something about him was different, magnetic, and for the first time in over a century, I felt alive.

Then he turned, and our eyes met.

His expression shifted, surprise flashing in his dark eyes as he stumbled back slightly, his towel clutched in one hand. "Whoa, dude! Where did you even come from? And what's with the outfit? Is this some kind of joke?"

His voice was low, warm, with a lilt I couldn't place. It sent a shiver down my spine, even as his words snapped me back to reality. I tried to answer, but my throat tightened. My tongue refused to work.

Why can't I speak? Why am I acting like a fool?

He frowned, tilting his head, and I noticed the faint scar just above his left brow, the way his lips parted slightly as if waiting for me to explain myself. "Hello? Are you going to say something, or...?"

Say something. Anything. Stop staring.

But I couldn't.

Instead, I took one last look at him, memorizing every detail-the way the light hit his skin, the beads of water on his chest, the faint hitch in his breath. And then I disappeared.

Vanished into the thin air between us, leaving him standing there alone, towel in hand, confusion etched across his perfect face.

As I materialized somewhere far from him, my chest ached with something I couldn't name.

What just happened? Why did I feel like... I was meant to meet him again?

Appa," Min Soo's voice was cold and sharp, slicing through the heavy air of the royal hall. "I see no reason why I should spend another moment with those old fools discussing policies that don't matter."

King Taejo's grip tightened around the jade seal he held, his knuckles whitening. "Do you think the affairs of this kingdom are a joke?" His voice boomed, reverberating off the stone walls. "You, my son, have the audacity to call the counsel of wise men fools? Is this how a prince of Goryeo speaks?"

Min Soo's gaze, sharp as the edge of a newly forged blade, did not falter. He stood rigid, his silk hanbok shimmering under the morning light filtering through the grand windows. The embroidered dragons on his garment seemed to snarl as if reflecting the prince's mood. "Perhaps it is time you understand, Appa, that I am not Seok Hoon. I do not grovel at your feet or nod at every word from your mouth."

The tension in the room was suffocating. Seok Hoon, standing a few steps to the side, shifted uncomfortably but said nothing. His elder brother's tall frame and calm expression only served to highlight Min Soo's bristling defiance.

"Min Soo!" The queen's voice broke through, her face pale beneath layers of powder. "How dare you speak to your father this way? Do you wish to disgrace our family?"

Min Soo turned his piercing eyes to her. "Eomeoni, do not speak of disgrace when you sit idly while this kingdom rots from within."

A collective gasp echoed through the room. Even the guards stationed near the pillars stiffened, their hands instinctively tightening around their spears.

"You insolent brat!" The king's fury spilled over as he slammed the jade seal onto the wooden table, the thud resounding like a death knell. "Enough of this insolence. You will attend the war council tomorrow, and that is final. Do you understand me?"

Min Soo smirked, the corner of his lips curling in defiance. "If that is your command, Your Majesty," he said, bowing shallowly, the mockery in his tone unmistakable.

Seok Hoon stepped forward, his voice smooth and measured, an attempt to pacify the storm. "Appa, perhaps Min Soo needs time to reflect. He is still young and-"

"Silence!" The king's roar silenced even the flickering torches. "He is a disgrace, not young! By this age, you were leading men into battle, Seok Hoon. And you-" he pointed a trembling finger at Min Soo, "you cannot even sit through a single meeting without causing havoc. Is this how you repay the bloodline that gave you life?"

Min Soo said nothing, his silence more deafening than any retort he could have mustered.

"Leave," the king finally ordered, his voice hoarse with anger. "All of you. Except Min Soo."

The courtiers and servants bowed hastily, shuffling out like frightened mice fleeing a hawk. Seok Hoon cast a worried glance at his brother but obeyed, exiting with the others. The queen lingered for a moment before the king's glare sent her retreating as well.

When the doors closed, the room seemed to shrink, the air thick with unspoken words.

"Do you hate me, Min Soo?" The king's voice was lower now, almost a growl. "Do you wish to see this kingdom crumble because of your childish arrogance?"

"I hate what you stand for," Min Soo replied evenly. "You speak of duty and honor, but all I see is a man clinging to power at any cost. Even if it means bleeding the people dry."

Taejo's fist slammed against the table again, but this time it was not out of anger-it was frustration. "You see only what your narrow mind allows. Do you think ruling is easy? That we can please everyone? You know nothing of what it takes to keep this kingdom together."

"And whose fault is that, Appa?" Min Soo stepped closer, his voice rising. "You never taught me anything except how to swing a sword and bow to men I despise. If I am unfit, it is because you made me so."

The king's eyes burned with a mixture of anger and something else-perhaps regret. "You will attend the war council," he repeated, his tone brooking no argument. "And you will learn. Or you will no longer be my son."

Min Soo stiffened, the words striking harder than any blow. But instead of backing down, he turned on his heel and walked out without another word.

---

Outside, the palace gardens were a stark contrast to the tension inside. The cherry blossoms swayed gently in the breeze, their petals scattering like tiny whispers of peace. Min Soo strode through them, his hands clenched into fists.

"Min Soo-ah!" His sister, Princess Hyejin, called out from a shaded pavilion. She rose gracefully, her hanbok flowing like water as she approached him. "What happened this time?"

"The same as always," Min Soo muttered, not meeting her eyes. "Appa thinks I should be more like Seok Hoon."

Hyejin sighed, placing a gentle hand on his arm. "You make it so hard for him to understand you. Why do you always push him away?"

"Because he doesn't see me, noona," Min Soo said, his voice tinged with bitterness. "To him, I'm just a disappointment. A shadow that doesn't fit into his perfect image of a son."

"That's not true," Hyejin said softly. "He loves you in his own way."

"If this is love, I'd rather not have it." Min Soo stepped away, his gaze fixed on the horizon. "He can keep his throne, his war councils, and his expectations. I want none of it."

"Min Soo-"

"I need to be alone," he said, walking away before she could stop him.

---

Later that evening, the palace was alive with preparations for a feast. Min Soo avoided the bustling halls and found solace in the training grounds. The clink of metal and the scent of oiled leather were more comforting than the endless chatter of courtiers.

"Hyungnim!" A young stable boy approached hesitantly, bowing deeply. "Do you need anything?"

Min Soo shook his head. "Leave me."

The boy scurried off, leaving Min Soo to his thoughts. He picked up a sword and began practicing, each swing of the blade a release of the frustration boiling inside him. The training dummy bore the brunt of his anger, splintering under his relentless strikes.

"You fight like a man possessed," a familiar voice drawled.

Min Soo turned to see Seok Hoon leaning against a post, his arms crossed. "What do you want?"

"To talk," Seok Hoon said, stepping closer. "You can't keep going on like this, Min Soo. Appa won't tolerate it forever."

"And what do you suggest, oh wise elder brother?" Min Soo sneered.

Seok Hoon sighed, his patience clearly wearing thin. "Stop fighting him. You're only making it harder for yourself."

Min Soo lowered his sword, his shoulders slumping. "You don't understand, Seok Hoon. You've always been the perfect son. The warrior, the diplomat, the crown prince. How can I compete with that?"

"It's not a competition," Seok Hoon said gently. "We're family, Min Soo. We should be working together, not tearing each other apart."

Min Soo looked away, the weight of his brother's words pressing down on him. "Maybe you're right," he said quietly. "But it's hard to see the point when everything feels so meaningless."

Before Seok Hoon could respond, a messenger arrived, bowing deeply. "Your Highnesses, the feast is about to begin. His Majesty requests your presence."

Min Soo groaned inwardly but nodded. "Let's get this over with."

---

The great hall was a spectacle of opulence, with golden chandeliers casting a warm glow over the assembled guests. Min Soo took his place at the royal table, his expression blank as he endured the endless parade of toasts and speeches.

But beneath the surface, the storm inside him continued to rage. And as his father raised a cup to toast the unity of the kingdom, Min Soo's mind was already plotting his next rebellion.

"You'll never be fit to rule," the king whispered, his words meant only for Min Soo's ears. "Not until you learn the meaning of duty."

"You'll never be fit to rule." My father's words rang in my ears like the clang of a war drum. His gaze bore into me, heavy and unyielding.

"And yet," I said, my voice sharp, "I am still a prince of Goryeo, Appa."

The tension between us was palpable. Around us, the hall buzzed with laughter and clinking cups, oblivious to the war waging in whispers.

"Prince Min Soo," a honeyed voice interrupted. It was one of the court ministers, Jung Daewon. His greying beard and calm demeanor belied the sharpness of his tongue. "Perhaps you would favor us with your thoughts on the kingdom's recent treaty discussions with Joseon?"

I stiffened, catching the trap in his words. "My thoughts?" I asked, leaning back in my chair. "I think treaties are better left to men who enjoy talking."

Daewon's smile faltered, but he recovered quickly. "A wise response, Your Highness. Yet, even warriors must understand the art of diplomacy."

"Diplomacy." I tilted my head. "Is that what you call trading our sovereignty for a few coins and empty promises?"

The murmur around the table quieted. Seok Hoon, seated beside me, shot me a warning look. "Min Soo," he said softly, his tone measured, "this is neither the time nor the place."

I ignored him, my attention fixed on Daewon. "Perhaps, Minister, you should focus less on treaties and more on the growing unrest in the eastern provinces. Or are you too busy filling your coffers to notice?"

"Enough!" my father barked, slamming his cup onto the table. The hall fell silent. "Min Soo, leave us."

I rose slowly, bowing just enough to avoid outright defiance. "As you command, Appa." My words dripped with sarcasm as I turned and walked away.

---

In the dim corridors of the palace, the air was cooler, laced with the faint scent of burning incense. I passed servants who bowed deeply, their eyes averted. Their deference was a reminder of the weight I bore, whether I wanted it or not.

"Min Soo-ah!" Hyejin's voice called from behind me. I paused, allowing her to catch up.

"Noona," I greeted, my tone softer.

"You're making it harder for yourself, you know," she said, falling into step beside me.

"Why does everyone keep saying that?" I sighed.

"Because it's true," she replied. "Appa may be harsh, but he's not wrong. You have a duty to this kingdom, whether you like it or not."

"And what about his duty to me?" I asked bitterly. "He sees me as a failure before I've even had a chance to prove myself."

Hyejin placed a hand on my arm, her expression earnest. "You don't have to prove yourself to him, Min Soo. Prove yourself to the people."

I scoffed. "The people? They barely know I exist."

"Then change that," she urged. "Start attending the councils. Show them you're more than just the angry prince."

Before I could respond, a figure emerged from the shadows. It was Seok Hoon.

"Min Soo," he said, his voice calm but firm. "We need to talk."

---

The three of us sat in a quiet corner of the garden, away from prying eyes and ears. Seok Hoon's expression was unreadable as he spoke.

"Do you know why Appa is so hard on you?" he asked.

"Because he hates me?" I offered, my tone laced with sarcasm.

"No," Seok Hoon said patiently. "Because he sees potential in you. He wouldn't push so hard if he didn't believe you could be more."

I snorted. "Is that what he told you?"

"No," Seok Hoon admitted. "It's what I see."

His words caught me off guard. For a moment, I didn't know how to respond.

"Min Soo," he continued, "the court is watching you. They're waiting for you to fail. But if you step up, even just a little, you can change their minds."

"And why would I want to?" I asked.

"Because the alternative," Seok Hoon said grimly, "is letting them control your fate."

---

The royal court convened the next morning in the grand hall, a space both magnificent and suffocating. The marble floors gleamed under the morning sun, and the walls were adorned with intricate tapestries depicting the kingdom's history.

I sat in my assigned seat, my presence drawing curious glances from the assembled ministers and advisors.

"Prince Min Soo," Daewon greeted, his tone as smooth as silk. "How unexpected to see you here."

"Why?" I replied. "Did you think I'd abandon my duties?"

His smile was tight, his eyes calculating. "Of course not, Your Highness. It is always a pleasure to have your... insights."

The meeting began, with discussions ranging from the upcoming harvest festival to border skirmishes with neighboring kingdoms. I listened, my expression carefully neutral, though my mind raced with thoughts.

"Your Highness," one of the younger advisors addressed Seok Hoon, "what are your thoughts on the proposal to strengthen ties with the Silla kingdom through marriage?"

My brother's jaw tightened, but he kept his composure. "Such decisions require careful consideration," he said diplomatically.

The queen, seated beside my father, leaned forward. "Careful consideration?" she repeated. "What is there to consider? A union with Silla would bring stability and resources to Goryeo."

"And chain us to their whims," I interjected, drawing startled looks. "Forgive me, Eomeoni, but isn't it dangerous to place so much trust in a kingdom that has betrayed us before?"

The queen's eyes narrowed, but her smile remained. "Your concerns are noted, Min Soo. However, alliances are built on trust, not suspicion."

"And how do we trust a snake not to bite?" I countered.

"Enough," my father said, his voice cutting through the tension. "This matter requires further discussion. For now, we move on."

---

As the meeting adjourned, I lingered in the hall, observing the court as they dispersed. Whispers filled the air, conspiracies woven like threads in a tapestry.

"Min Soo-ah," Seok Hoon approached, his expression serious. "Be careful. The court is not as it seems."

"I'm aware," I said. "The question is, who can we trust?"

He hesitated before answering. "No one."

---

Later that night, as the palace settled into quiet, I overheard a conversation in the queen's chambers.

"Seok Hoon must marry the Silla princess," she said, her tone firm. "It is the only way to secure our position."

"And Min Soo?" Daewon's voice replied.

"Leave him to his brooding," she said dismissively. "He poses no threat."

Her words ignited a fire within me. They thought me weak, irrelevant. But they would learn, one way or another, that I was not to be underestimated.

As I turned to leave, I heard Daewon say, "What if he discovers the truth about the treaty?"