Chapter Text
Yeosang heaved a breath as he twisted his arm at an incredibly awkward angle. The wires were positioned in a way that made it impossible to work on comfortably, causing Yeosang to contort his body in ways that he didn’t even think was possible.
That tended to happen when the machine he was working on was his own leg.
His metal foot was currently resting innocently on top of the wooden table in front of him that served as his stall. Maybe it wasn’t the best idea to work on his leg’s circuitry amid the hustle and bustle of the marketplace, but he didn’t exactly choose for his foot to pop off while he was mid-work either.
Yeosang had been working on a house android for a semi-frequent client when it happened. Its owner was a sweet elderly lady, Mrs. Choi. She always tried to pay him in sweets instead of credits. Sometimes he even took the sweets despite his desperate need for financial independence—they were that good.
She always had some new problem with her android, it was twenty-seven years old but Mrs. Choi stubbornly refused to get rid of it. This time it was that the thing had suddenly started speaking entirely in curse words instead of its preset grandmother-friendly speech programming.
It honestly made Yeosang laugh more than anything. And it reminded him of his best friend’s equally foul mouth. He missed Wooyoung a lot these days.
Just as Yeosang’s optical scanners had honed in on the issue, he had tripped on his way to get the necessary tools from the back. As he scrambled to catch himself on the nearest shelf, his right foot slammed against the table leg and popped right off.
“Fuck!” the android still laying on his table had exclaimed at the exact same time as he did. Despite the way he had been lying on the ground, one hand still held onto the shelf above him, it had made Yeosang laugh to himself anyways.
He was sure he made a picture, footless and laughing by himself.
Which brings Yeosang here, right ankle awkwardly resting on his left thigh while he attempts to contort his torso in a way that will give his tools better access to the wires sticking out of it. He had installed a wrench in his right pointer finger for this express purpose years ago, but this particular issue needs his proper tools. So he thankfully gets to leave his work gloves on for now.
He knew that this would happen eventually. The popped off foot was the same one fitted for him after his surgery eight years ago. A limb for a ten-year old, not his grown eighteen-year old body.
When a hopeful fourteen-year old Yeosang had tentatively asked his step-mother if it were possible to get him a foot that fit his new proportions, she had laughed in his face. I refuse to waste my hard-earned money on useless scrap , Kang Eunju had said and that had been that.
Yeosang hadn’t felt the need to point out that her hard-earned money was government stipends she collected for the decades of Yeosang’s fathers military service. If he hadn’t been a cyborg the money would have gone to Yeosang instead.
Over the last year he had been saving up for a properly-fitting foot, secreting away a univ or two week until he had the 600 he needed to haggle a model from the stingy Mr. Yang. Just in time it seemed.
Hopefully Mon is on their way back with it now , Yeosang thought with a grimace.
Mrs. Choi’s android was still lying face down on his workbench, access panel on the back of its neck wide open. But Yeosang figured that he should probably get his foot working again before finishing off that particular commission. Besides, its occasional exclamation of expletives brightened Yeosang’s mood whenever it happened.
It’s not like he needed any help getting reproachful stares from people who passed by his booth.
Cyborgs weren’t particularly well-regarded in New Seoul. And New Seoul was marginally more tolerant than most other parts of the country.
As if his thoughts had summoned her, one of his neighbours picked that moment to buy a sweet from the market stall directly next to Yeosang’s. Yeosang noticed Mrs. Ha pay and step to the side to wait for her dalgona from the corner of his eye. A little kid impatiently tugged on the hem of her blouse, likely who the sweet was for if Yeosang had to guess.
To his misfortune, Mrs. Ha glanced over and saw his current position, foot detached, wires sticking out, and mini socket wrench all up in his ankle.
She looked positively scandalized.
Sending Yeosang the dirtiest look she possibly could, Mrs. Ha quickly covered her son’s eyes and moved them both to the other side of the stall to wait instead.
Yeosang ignored her and continued to reconnect the wires that had come loose. He felt a bead of sweat drip down his back. The sun was merciless this time of year.
“Asshole!” Mrs. Choi’s android exclaimed.
Yeosang laughed under his breath and patted the back of its synthetic leg, “You could say that again, friend.”
Thankfully, Mrs. Ha wouldn’t be able to hear the exchange over the rush of the outdoor market. Merchants hawking their wares, children shrieking as they playfully chased one another, the sizzle and pop of all kinds of cooking meats.
It’s like people like her forgot that he was human too, thank you very much. Well, despite being made up of 56.7% synthetic materials.
He tucks a loose strand of hair behind his ear with a gloved hand. It’s getting long enough now that he can tie it back with a band, but it never seems to properly hold his front pieces.
Yeosang blinks once to activate the scanner in his retinas, attempting to see where he could still feel loose screws in his ankle.
Seriously, people acted like he had the plague or something. A hovercraft accident had left him with a couple less organic limbs and the inability for his heart to pump his own blood. It didn’t take away his emotions or soul. It’s not his fault that the machinery required to keep him alive took up enough space in his brain to dull his emotions. But Yeosang guesses that that’s the whole point. He’s not really human anymore.
He just feels like one.
He often wonders where the cyborg parts of him end and where the human begins. He can’t even cry, which his step-mother often reminds him makes him worse than an entirely synthetic android. At least they don’t pretend to be human , she would say.
Yeosang blinks to clear those thoughts away. He doesn’t have to deal with her until later tonight, once the market closes for the day, and he resolves to not think about her until then.
He wriggles the wrench just-so, finally feeling the uncooperative screw pop free. Just as he’s ready to celebrate, the magnet on his wrench fails and the screw is flung under his workbench.
Yeosang begins to bend over with a groan, needing to uncross his ankle to do so. He feels the metal of his synthetic leg harshly dig into his skin from where it meets his organic hip. He digs around on the ground for a second, realizing just how many loose nuts and bolts he had dropped under there. At least he won’t need to restock for a while once he collects all these.
He has just located the missing screw when there’s a loud bang! from above him. Yeosang startles and harshly bangs his head on the wooden workbench.
He quickly scrambles to extricate himself from under his table. Finding the local top-rated mechanic on his hands and knees in the dirt is not the type of first impression he wants to give a potential new customer.
Yeosang springs up, almost overbalancing himself when he forgets that he’s still missing a limb. He quickly drops the screw beside his foot on the table and uses the edge of the workbench to steady himself.
When Yeosang finally looks up to greet his new customer, he swears his heart freezes in his chest. Even though he knows it’s impossible considering the metal pump that encases it and keeps it beating steadily.
It takes 1.7 seconds for Yeosang’s retina display to scan the newcomer’s face, mapping it in blue lines and linking it to the city's net database. But Yeosang didn’t need to read the information currently occupying the left side of his vision to know exactly who stood before him.
PRINCE SEONGHWA, CROWN PRINCE OF THE EASTERN COMMONWEALTH, HEIR TO THE PARK CLAN , scrolled across his vision.
BORN 3 APR 98 T.E.
109,117 MEDIA HITS, REVERSE CHRON.
----POSTED 14 AUG 118 T.E.: THE LATEST PRESS RELEASE FROM THE IMPERIAL PALACE SUGGESTS THAT PRINCE SEONGHWA WILL BE MEETING WITH QUEEN HELENA OF THE EUROPEAN FEDERATION TO DISCUSS POSSIBLE MILITARY ALLIANCES. AMIDST HIS FATHER EMPEROR DOYOON’S ONGOING ILLNESS HE WILL BE STEPPING UP–
“Oh, I’m sorry,” Prince Seonghwa says. “I didn’t realize anyone was back there.”
Yeosang quickly blinks to clear away the news article that is still half-obscuring his vision. He blinks one more time in his best effort to clear the image of the crown prince of his country standing at his tiny market stall, but he’s still there when Yeosang opens his eyes.
Yeosang has no idea what the protocol in this situation is. He’s uncertain whether he should bow or not, but he’s still missing his foot so he settles on quickly dipping his head.
“Y-your highness,” he stammers out. Yeosang is suddenly eternally grateful for the long tablecloth that hides his empty ankle. For some reason he doesn’t want the prince to know he’s a cyborg quite yet.
The prince quickly glances backwards over his shoulder before slightly leaning in towards Yeosang, “Do you think we could be more subtle about the, uh, royal stuff?” His voice is much more soft-spoken in person than it is on telescreens.
Yeosang has no idea why a prince would want to skip the formalities, but then Yeosang takes in the details a little better.
Prince Seonghwa is wearing a dark oversized sweater, practically criminal in the sweltering summer sun. Its hood is pulled up and there’s a black mask tucked underneath his chin. Yeosang quickly glances around and can’t spot any guards, in plain clothes or otherwise.
It seems that the prince is incognito. But it’s not Yeosang’s place to ask, so he forces himself to nod and try to be as helpful as possible.
“I– of course Your–“ he bites his lip. Forces himself to take a breath. “Of course. How can I help?”
Yeosang tugs at the leather glove on his right hand, making sure that there’s no metal peeking out from its cuff.
“I’m looking for a Kang Yeosang? The mechanic?” the prince responds.
“Th-that’s me,” he says, unable to help the way his voice trembles. Yeosang is still staring at his workbench.
“Oh,” Prince Seonghwa says, “but you’re so young.”
Yeosang just gives a self-conscious shrug in response.
The prince leans down so he fills Yeosang’s vision, giving him a soft smile. The netscreen’s really don’t do his beauty justice , he thinks half-deliriously. The other man slowly straightens up, forcing Yeosang to maintain eye contact and follow with him.
“I didn’t mean it as a bad thing, I promise,” Prince Seonghwa says. “It’s really quite impressive.”
Yeosang tentatively smiles back, suddenly glad for the first time that he isn’t able to blush either. He’s sure blood would currently be rushing to his cheeks otherwise.
Once Prince Seonghwa must deem him stable enough, he taps the new item that Yeosang hadn’t noticed lying across his workbench. This must have been what caused the thud earlier.
It’s an android, incredibly similar looking to Mrs. Choi’s next to it. That’s probably why Yeosang missed it in his panic. Also like Mrs. Choi’s, it’s a very outdated model. Looking just unlike a human enough to make it uncanny. Yeosang wonders why a prince has something so old.
“She hasn’t been able to turn on lately,” says Prince Seonghwa. “I can’t figure out what’s wrong with her, she should be working perfectly by all accounts.”
The prince rounds his syllables, making it seem like his words melt into one another. It has a weirdly calming effect on Yeosang.
“I can quickly take a look,” Yeosang offers. He first looks in all of the obvious places, reactivating his retina to give her a preliminary scan. He won’t be able to run a full diagnostic unless he physically connects himself to the android, which he will decidedly not be doing with the prince still around.
Yeosang opens her main access panel, but can’t find anything blatantly out of the ordinary. He looks up to tell this to the prince and tenses.
Prince Seonghwa has somehow picked up Yeosang’s foot without him noticing. He’s wiggling the metal toes on their joints, seemingly absentmindedly. He uses the sleeve of his hoodie to rub at a smudge near its sole.
“You’re quick,” the prince observes with a quirk to his mouth. It’s unfairly attractive.
Yeosang coughs a little to clear the lump sitting in his throat at the words, “You’re right, I can’t find anything wrong with a preliminary assessment. She’s a particularly old model,” he states, “you may want to consider upgrading.”
The prince's eyebrows crease together before quickly smoothing out. The action happens so quickly that Yeosang wouldn’t have caught it without his enhanced vision.
“Ah, unfortunately I can’t do that. I’m afraid it’s a matter of national security.”
The prince holds Yeosang’s gaze for an agonizing three seconds before breaking out into a wide grin. It’s no wonder he has millions of girls worldwide swooning after him.
“Just a joke, I couldn’t help it,” his eyes twinkle. “She’s just sentimental to me.”
Yeosang lets out a tiny laugh to play along, but he notices a little orange light flick to life in the bottom corner of his vision at the same time.
He sees the light often enough. When Wooyoung tells him that he isn’t tired and he can play another round of Moon Shooters VIII late at night. When he walks into a shop and the clerk tells him they’re closing up for the day after noticing his metal hand. When his step-mother was still playing the grieving widow and would attempt to tell him, I love you .
The light meant that someone was lying.
But, the lies of a prince were none of Yeosang’s business. He lets it go.
A sudden whirring noise from behind Yeosang draws both of their attention. A metal shape wheels themself into his booth from the alley behind the pair. There’s a shiny new foot clutched in the prongs that serve as their arms.
They happily beep and chirp at Yeosang, offering up the new item they had just procured.
Yeosang can’t help but coo at his sweet bot, giving it a pat where its head would be, “Aw, thank you, Mon-ie.” He’s always had a soft spot for the android. Discarded parts, just like him.
He picks up the foot, freezing when he realizes he had forgotten his royal guest. Yeosang vaguely gestures at the foot, “Ah, for another client.”
But his explanation is in vain because the prince barely pays the foot any mind. “They’re adorable,” he says, staring at Mon. “The flower’s cute.”
Yeosang would blush if he could. He had added the yellow paper flower to the top of his androids head on a whim, thinking it complemented their voice processor that vaguely resembled a laughing mouth. He had named them Hehetmon for the same reason.
For their part, Hehetmon gives Prince Seonghwa a few happy chirping noises in response. It makes the prince's pretty smile make a reappearance.
Mon rolls forward to get closer to the workbench, likely looking for pats from the handsome stranger. Yeosang quickly pushes them back, “Sorry, Mon-ie. Could you go pick up that package from Mr. Baek, please?”
Hehetmon gives a sad little beep that makes Yeosang feel a twinge of guilt. Prince Seonghwa doesn’t look fazed by the encounter though. He waves at the bot and wishes them good luck on their journey. Mon beeps back at him.
Yeosang wonders how the crown prince can be so endearing in such a short period of time.
Their gazes meet and Yeosang feels briefly trapped in a moment that stretches syrupy slow.
“So, what do you think?” the prince finally asks. He has made himself comfortable, slightly leaning against Yeosang’s workbench.
“It’s nothing I can solve right now, unfortunately. I’d want to run some diagnostics and take a look at her in my garage where I have the proper tools. I could probably get it done in a week or so.”
Prince Seonghwa nods as though this were the result he was expecting.
Yeosang is ready to send him off and finally get off of his aching foot. But there’s just one problem.
“How can I contact you once she’s done?” he tentatively asks.
The prince looks like he had expected this question too. He holds out his wrist. “We can exchange ID numbers. Message me when you’re done and we can arrange a time for me to pick her up.”
Yeosang is stunned for a second. He slowly lifts his right wrist, where every person’s ID chip is inserted, afraid that Prince Seonghwa will pull away and tell him that this is another joke. But he doesn’t. He allows Yeosang to carefully brush their wrists together, the faint ping of a successful exchange audible over the noise of the market.
It’s an unwarranted display of trust from the crown prince of the nation. And an incredible display of secrecy. By all means, Seonghwa should have taken the android to the royal mechanics. Even if he had to outsource, Yeosang should be dealing with an equerry or coordinator. The lie about national security could be played off alone. But in combination with this? Yeosang’s head spins with the implications.
“Alright,” Yeosang eventually says. “I’ll be in touch.”
The prince smiles, “Thank you, Yeosang.”
With nothing else to add, Prince Seonghwa gives him another quick nod, Yeosang rushing to do the same, before he turns and disappears back into the crowd.
Yeosang loses sight of him within seconds, even with his enhanced retina display.
He drops heavily into his chair, taking a minute to breathe. He’s never been affected so much by a person before. Even Wooyoung, the most attractive person he knows, had never made his heart flutter like that. The feeling was entirely foreign. Could it be a problem with his heart pump? Yeosang absently rubs at his chest.
The interaction flashes through his head. The smiles, the lie, the brush of warm skin against his own.
Just what has Yeosang gotten himself into?
But he doesn’t have time to dwell on it when Hehetmon has finally delivered his replacement foot. He’s grateful he slipped enough credits by his step-mother that he could afford it.
Yeosang quickly gathers the parts he needs and installs the shiny metal foot now that he has no more obstacles. Thankfully it’s a perfect fit and actually matches his adult proportions. He carefully flexes his ankle a few times and wiggles his toes to make sure all of the wiring is properly connected.
Satisfied with the results, Yeosang stands up to put weight on it. Success , he presses his lips together in satisfaction.
The bright sun catches on his old foot where Prince Seonghwa had buffed one side of it clean. Yeosang picks it up, trying to see it the way the prince might have. Child-sized and beat up from overuse, not even worth keeping as scrap metal.
Yeosang still can’t believe he had just met the prince. Had an entire conversation with him, even.
He suddenly catches his reflection in the recently-cleaned part of the foot, eyes widening. Yeosang tries to scrub at his cheek, but the black blob steadfastly remains.
He can’t believe he had an entire conversation with the prince with a grease-stain on his cheek the whole time!
Yeosang silently wails into his gloved hands. So much for a good first impression.
✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧
After the market has finally closed for the day, Yeosang heaves both Mrs. Choi and Prince Seonghwa’s androids into his arms to take home. Thankfully he has Mon to help him out. He has no idea how he’d make the walk home with two human-sized androids otherwise.
When he gets to his apartment building he makes a quick stop at their underground garage to deposit the two bots.
Each family has a dedicated garage space that doubles as storage. Yeosang’s step-mother had reluctantly permitted him a space in the back of theirs that he used as a workspace. He’s always thought that she only allows this since it’s an additional source of income for her.
As a cyborg with cerebral differentiation , Yeosang isn’t allowed to exist independently until he’s twenty-five. Something about keeping the “vulnerable of society protected.” Yeosang thinks it’s thinly-veiled code for keeping the freaks more vulnerable.
He quickly squeezes around the family hover to get to his bench, taking care to avoid the single picture frame Yeosang has left of his father when he drops the androids on his metal table.
Finally free of the weight, Yeosang stretches and pops his back.
He quickly washes his hands in the tiny basin, knowing that his step-mother hates when she can see the grease stains. They don’t fully come off but Yeosang hopes it’s enough to at least stave off her ire.
He makes his way upstairs, quickly scanning his wrist at the two checkpoints that make sure he’s a resident of the building and a resident of the 24th floor, respectively. When he finally scans his wrist at the front door, he takes a steadying breath, opening it as quietly as he can.
The scene unfolding in front of him when he walks in is bemusing.
Jihu is standing on a platform, arms outstretched while a woman with a measuring tape flits around him. He looks like a preening peacock in his suit framed with excessive feathers and ruffles. His step-mother looks on from the side with her arms crossed, discerning eye taking in every detail. Yunseo is draped across the plush couch, arms holding her netscreen over her face. Likely watching a new netdrama if Yeosang had to guess.
Yunseo looks distinctly annoyed behind her screen, which means this fitting is likely for the annual Peace Ball. She loves the aesthetic and glam of the ball, without wanting to do any of the work to get ready for it. Which means his step-mother will be in a worse mood than usual.
Eunju’s eyes flick away from Jihu when Yeosang clicks the door shut. “We already ate,” she says. “You’ll have to find your own dinner.”
Yeosang nods, knowing a verbal response will only draw her attention. He catches Yunseo moving from the corner of his eye and shakes his head at her. It’s not worth it , he hopes his eyes convey.
Yunseo furrows her brows but backs down, hiding her face behind her screen again.
Yeosang toes off his shoes, neatly placing them on the rack. Mon rolls off in front of him, heading for their charging station.
“Only 350 univs were deposited to my account today. Explain.” Eunju breaks the silence. His step-mother gives no room for Yeosang to argue with her.
“It was a slow day today. The heat’s been keeping people in, I think.”
“I don’t want to know what you think , Yeosang,” she spits his name as if it’s coated in venom. “I want to know how you’ll make it up.”
Jihu scoffs from his place on the podium. The tailor continues her silent work.
Yeosang focuses on the hardwood floor, “I have a few clients lined up. The weekend will be better.” He doesn’t tell her that one of those clients is the crown prince. Doesn’t want to taint the warm memory with her sneer.
His step-mother just gives him one last long look before turning her attention back to Jihu. “No, no, the sleeves are all wrong–” Yeosang tunes her out.
Yunseo subtly beckons him over to the coach. Yeosang softly smiles. His step-sister was the only one in this apartment who was kind to him since his father died.
She tugs him down beside her.
“Oppa watch this with me,” Yunseo says, not really giving him a choice. She gives Yeosang one earphone and he half pays attention to the overly dramatized battle scene on her screen.
The other half of him pays attention to what is currently playing on the large telescreen behind the mirror the tailor had presumably set up. It’s easy for Yeosang to blink and turn down the audio processors in his right ear so he can listen to the newscaster with his left.
“Tensions between the Eastern Commonwealth and Kingdom of the Americas are currently rising amid recent breakdowns in territory dispute discussions,” the neat woman on screen is saying. “A spokesperson for King Clemente of the Americas says that they ‘aren’t ruling out the possibility of a show of force to claim the resources that are theirs by right.’”
The woman looks grave. “Queen Helena has offered–”
“Ugh, someone turn that dreadful thing off,” Eunju’s voice makes Yeosang jump, coming from where he had turned up the volume in his left ear. “There’s no place for this on such a happy day.”
Unfortunately Yeosang is the closest to the telescreen’s control panel, so he quickly swipes it to a repeat of a daytime talk show. Eunju frowns at him but doesn’t say anything.
Yeosang would rather watch Yunseo’s drama than the celebrity gossip so he readjusts his auditory processor back to its normal settings. The male characters on screen are facing off in traditional hanbok, blasters aimed at each other. The same character has been falling from a plasma wound for seven minutes when the doorbell rings.
Yunseo shoots up, dislodging their connected ear pieces in the process. “I’ll get it!”
Yeosang glances at her curiously, she’s usually loath to do any sort of chore, but most of his focus is drawn by the netscreen quickly thrown at his chest. He scrambles to catch it.
Yunseo rips the door open, startling the poor courier. Yeosang suddenly realizes what has his step-sister so excited. Hand-delivered mail can only mean one thing.
Yunseo remembers her manners, quickly bowing to the man before skipping back inside with the sleek silver bar clutched in her hand. Yeosang looks away as she collapses back onto the coach with it and scans her ID. The invitation appears hovering in front of her. Yunseo is practically vibrating with excitement. It’s moments like these that Yeosang is reminded that she’s still only fourteen.
Yunseo suddenly shrieks from beside Yeosang. “Oppa! You’re invited this year too!” she clutches at Yeosang’s arm and starts to shake it.
Yeosang’s head snaps over so fast his retina display has to stabilize itself. He sees Eunju and Jihu mimic his motion in front of him.
But, Yunseo’s words prove true, written in sprawling text before their eyes.
[HIS IMPERIAL MAJESTY EMPEROR DOYOON AND EMPRESS JINSOL REQUEST THE PRESENCE OF
KANG EUNJU;
KANG JIHU;
KANG YEOSANG;
AND
KANG YUNSEO
AT THE 118TH ANNUAL PEACE BALL TO BE HELD ON THE 31ST DAY OF AUGUST IN THE 118TH YEAR OF THE THIRD ERA.]
There’s details for the location at the Imperial Palace and to RSVP at the bottom, but Yeosang can no longer see any of that through the rushing noise in his head. He faintly wonders if his processing chip has finally broken with the rest of him.
Jihu looks more upset than Yeosang has ever seen him. “There must be a mistake,” his step-brother sneers from his place still on the podium. “Who would ever invite that metal creature to the Imperial Palace?”
His words don’t sting at Yeosang for once, dulled by the pure shock coursing through his artificial veins.
Eunju takes the invitation from Yunseo’s hand. The projection moves with her. No matter how she shakes the thing or moves it around, KANG YEOSANG continues to be projected with the rest of their names.
“There must be someone I can contact about this… mix-up.” His step-mother looks like she would rather use a much stronger word.
Yunseo, on the other hand, looks absolutely delighted. “But, mother! It’s an Imperial invitation . Ignoring it would practically be treason!”
Yeosang thinks he wouldn’t go so far as to call it treason, but Eunju actually seems to consider her words for once.
“I- I suppose we can’t.” She looks extremely troubled.
“Mother!” exclaims Jihu.
Eunju ignores him, showing Yeosang just how serious she is. She never ignores a single one of her most precious child’s requests.
Yeosang’s step-mother casts a considering eye over him. He unconsciously gulps.
“Could I–“ Yeosang darts his eyes to the side. “Could I really go?”
“You’ll have to fix the hover or none of us will be going anywhere.” She finally decides.
It’s practically an impossible task considering that Eunju likely won’t give him the univs to buy parts. But it still lights a tiny spark of hope in his chest. Yeosang eagerly nods.
“ And ,” Eunju sharply continues. “I expect you to find something suitable to wear yourself. I won’t have you embarrassing this family with your abnormalities .”
Yeosang expects a flash of orange in the corner of his vision to indicate that she’s lying. It never comes.
He quickly bobs his head again, “Of course.”
Yeosang’s heart beats a little faster in his chest. At the possibilities. This is a once in a lifetime chance for himself. Yunseo excitedly clutches his hand.
Jihu looks like he’s about to protest but Eunju silences him with a glance.
The thus far quiet tailor steps forward and bows in Eunju’s direction. “I’ve finished with Jihu’s measurements, Eunju-ssi.”
Yeosang’s step-mother nods, back into her business mode. “Yunseo, go change, it’s your turn.”
Yunseo looks like she’s about to argue for a split-second but then looks back over to Yeosang. Likely not wanting to push her luck for the day, she takes the dress that the tailor hands to her and disappears behind the dressing screen.
Yeosang sits there in stunned silence. He doesn’t know how his name ended up on that invitation, but the biggest opportunity of his life has just been handed right to him. He can’t mess this up.
As he watches Yunseo’s measurements be taken he carefully smiles to himself. Yeosang quietly lets himself feel the hope locked away inside his chest.
✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧
Yeosang quietly makes his exit down to the garage somewhere in between Yunseo’s second and third dress. He needs to figure out what exactly he needs to fix the hover and finish Mrs. Choi’s android tonight.
It’s already late, but the promise of being allowed to attend the Peace Ball has fueled a new drive in him.
Yeosang quickly slides under the hovercraft on the makeshift creeper he fashioned out of spare parts years ago. He digs around in the hovers underbelly, surprised that it’s more intact than he thought. He’ll only need to replace the magbelt.
The bad news is that even used magbelts start at 1500 univs.
Considering that it took a year to save up 600 univs for his foot, Yeosang rules out haggling with Mr. Yang as a viable option.
He’ll have to make a trip out to the scrapyard tomorrow.
With that settled, Yeosang resolves himself to fix Mrs. Choi’s android next.
He rolls himself out from under the hover, having to move the box that holds his father’s stuff to the side to put the creeper away. Yeosang quickly moves away again. He can’t think about his father too long or he’ll get a headache from the tears he physically isn’t equipped to cry.
The doctors had said his tear ducts got in the way of the retina screen he now needed to see.
Sometimes Yeosang thinks that Eunju’s right and he really is a soulless machine. What kind of son isn’t even able to properly grieve their father?
Kang Daehyun had lost his life in the same hover accident that claimed Yeosang’s humanity. Yeosang had never shed a single tear over his father’s death. Sometimes he thought if he could just cry it all out he would be released from the shadow that constantly loomed over him.
But that could never happen.
Yeosang carefully moves the box back into place and spends the next few hours digging around in Mrs. Choi’s android.
He’s finally finished when the garage door starts rolling up behind him. Yeosang turns and sees Yunseo walking in with a plated sandwich. “Letting yourself starve down here?” she playfully asks.
Yeosang smiles at her, grateful for the gesture.
“Not quite yet,” he jokes. “Thank you, Yunseo.”
She smiles back at him and drops the plate on a clean stretch of table that she miraculously finds. Yeosang offers her half of the sandwich.
They quietly eat together, letting the distant sounds of slamming doors and running hover engines wash over them.
Yeosang has always been comfortable with the quiet, but Yunseo lasts only as long as it takes to finish her sandwich. “You know, some people are saying that the prince is going to be looking for a bride at this year’s Peace Ball.”
Yeosang furrows his eyebrows, “Prince Seonghwa?”
“ Duh , what other prince would I be talking about?” she sasses.
Yeosang fondly rolls his eyes. “You read too many gossip blogs.”
“But what if they’re right, oppa! What if he sees me from across the room and we fall in love and then I’m the next empress!”
“Stars help us all if you’re in charge of a country,” Yeosang pokes her nose making Yunseo go cross-eyed for a split second.
“Hey! I’d be a great ruler,” she pouts.
“Alright, Your Majesty,” Yeosang sketches a bow from his seat. “What’s your first decree?”
Yunseo puts on an overly dramatic voice. “I shall decree that overbearing mothers are outlawed.”
Yeosang smiles slightly.
“And that all cyborgs shall be given the same rights and freedoms as every human citizen!”
Yeosang’s smile slowly drops. He’s oddly touched that even in their playful joking his step-sister still thinks about him. “Oh, Yunseo.”
She slightly cringes. “Sorry, oppa. Did I make it too serious? It’s not fair. The way she treats you”
Yeosang pats her knee and shakes his head. “It’s alright. But it’s getting late. How about we head back up before Eunju sends the search droids?”
Yunseo giggles and magnanimously offers her hand, back in character.
“Why thank you, kind madam.”
Yunseo laughs and they playfully nudge one another all the way back up to the 24th floor.
✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧
As he stares at the ceiling of his tiny bedroom, Yeosang can’t help but think about what Yunseo had told him earlier.
The prince is going to be looking for a bride at this year’s Peace Ball.
The words echo and bounce in his head. Yeosang doesn’t know why it makes his stomach turn.
His brain unhelpfully recalls the gentle way Prince Seonghwa coaxed Yeosang into looking at him, the small smiles that felt more genuine than anything he had seen from him on a telescreen, the feeling of the prince’s wrist against his own.
Yeosang aggressively blinks the images away.
Sleep comes to him fitfully that night.
✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧
LOVE IN THE TIME OF CYBORGS: AN ANALYSIS OF HUMAN EMOTION AS SEEN IN CYBERNETIC ORGANISMS BY DR. ZOLA KIMATHI, PH.D. (PUBLISHED BY CAMBRIDGE UNIVERSITY PRESS: 17 JAN 115 T.E.)
ABSTRACT: The way that cybernetic organisms (i.e., cyborgs) process and understand human emotion has been a widely debated topic in academia since the first altering procedure. However, the scholarship lacks a fundamental understanding of the varying levels of altered cognitive variability. A cyborg with only a synthetic hand, for example, is different from one with cerebral differentiation . For the purposes of this paper, I will define cerebral differentiation as experienced by cyborgs as any whose brain, or cognitive abilities, have been altered. I will argue that a cyborg who has been cerebrally differentiated will experience emotion, as we understand it, as a less intense experience. Contrary to popular belief, a cyborg with minimal alteration will experience emotion in the same ways as any fully organic being.
This paper will look at two case studies: Irvette Chandler (108 T.E.) and Bai Haoyu (114 T.E.). In the case of Chandler…[ read more ]
✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧
The next morning Yeosang leaves Prince Seonghwa’s android in the garage, bringing only Mrs. Choi’s with him to the market. Mon keeps up a steady chirping behind him as they walk, almost like they’re trying to imitate the sounds of a conversation. Yeosang finds it endlessly endearing.
The sun is just making its appearance over the horizon when he makes it to his stall.
There is a dark mound resting on his workbench. Yeosang squints, willing his retina display to adjust faster.
Mon starts rapidly beeping as they roll determinedly towards the figure.
“Mon-ie, wait!” Yeosang calls in vain.
The figure springs up with agility at the sound of Yeosang’s voice.
“Mon-ie!” the person exclaims in excitement, toppling off the table to open his arms for the little bot. “How is my favourite android?” he strokes and coos at them like one would a favoured pet dog.
Yeosang finally makes it to the pair, still making a scene on the floor.
“Hi, Wooyoung,” Yeosang tilts his head down.
Wooyoung looks at him upside down, refusing to part from Hehetmon. “And there’s my favourite cyborg!”
Yeosang gives him a look, thankful the only vendors here at this time are out of earshot. Wooyoung jolts to his feet and quickly wraps his arms around Yeosang’s shoulders.
Yeosang has always been weird about prolonged contact since his surgery. No one usually wants to touch him anyways. But Wooyoung has never cared about things like that.
Yeosang awkwardly taps Wooyoung’s back in his best imitation of a hug. He feels Wooyoung grin against his shoulder.
Despite his awkward exterior, Yeosang really had missed Wooyoung while he had been away at university. He had a fancy full-ride arts scholarship at his dream school, Chulalongkorn University. The only problem was that it was on the other side of the country and comms messaging could only take them so far.
Wooyoung had initially wanted to decline the offer, hesitant about leaving Yeosang behind. But Yeosang eventually convinced him to go, saying that he’d be more mad if Wooyoung gave up his dream so he wouldn’t be lonely.
Wooyoung pulls away, still gripping his shoulders tightly. “I missed you, Sangie.”
“Yeah,” Yeosang relents. “Me too.”
Wooyoung shifts to hook an arm around his shoulders and lead him into the stall. Mon is still happily chirping around their feet.
“I have so much to catch you up on!”
That’s how they spend their morning, falling into the easy rhythm that comes from knowing each other since they were practically babies. Wooyoung had taken one look at him in the schoolyard and declared, We are now best friends for life! As he does with most things Wooyoung says, Yeosang went along with it.
Wooyoung helps him unpack his bags and set up for the day. He never stops talking while he does so, operating on muscle memory from all the times he had helped Yeosang with his mechanic stall.
“–and then the entire dorm bathroom exploded , can you believe it? I guess that’s what I get for being an art major assigned to live on a STEM floor.” Wooyoung sighs heavily, adjusting a display case just-so.
“How did you even end up on that floor?” Yeosang asks incredulously.
This question launches Wooyoung into yet another long-winded tale, this one somehow involving three battle-androids, a homemade case of fireworks, and six ruined mannequins.
“So, wait,” Yeosang interrupts. “Your first roommate reported you for crimes against fashion ?”
“Yes! Can you believe the audacity? I didn’t even know that was something a person could do!”
Yeosang giggles under his breath, happy to finally have his best friend home. Wooyoung looks at him, grinning for a long moment. He knows how rare it is to get a genuine laugh out of Yeosang.
If Yeosang could, he’d laugh all the time. He’s just unfortunately not programmed like that. His emotions only ever seemed to be dialed to zero or one hundred and actually expressing what he feels is even harder.
It’s lunchtime by now. They had dealt with a few customers throughout the morning. It’s always nice having Wooyoung here to help charm them.
Somehow Wooyoung had gotten an extra 50 univs out of a young couple looking to fix their netscreen. Yeosang frankly found that kind of work demeaning. He was a mechanic , not a tech shop. But money was money.
“I’ll go get us something to eat,” Yeosang offers. “My treat.”
“Nooo, Sangie! I wanted to treat you !” Wooyoung complains.
“Well, I offered first. No take backs.” Wooyoung pouts at him. Yeosang tries his hand at negotiating with an unstoppable force, “You can get the next one?”
Wooyoung immediately grins, any traces of sadness wiped away, “M’kay!”
Yeosang goes hunting for something to get them. He thinks about the easy way Wooyoung navigates his emotions. He’s quick to laugh, cry, grin, curse; he wears every single thing he feels on his face for everyone to see.
Wooyoung can often be mistaken for being brash or aloof, but Yeosang just thinks he feels everything intensely.
Yeosang isn’t a jealous person, but he wishes he could express himself like that. He wishes that he felt things with the depth that he sees Wooyoung does.
He loves his best friend, but sometimes he’s a reminder of everything that Yeosang lacks. Of the parts of his humanity that got pushed somewhere deep into his subconscious after the surgery.
Yeosang easily navigates his way through the market crowd, slipping between people here, skirting around a crowd there. He finds a stand run by an uncle he knows will at least take his money, if not be happy about it, and orders two portions.
When Yeosang makes it back to his stall with the chicken skewers, Wooyoung is chatting up another customer.
The way that Wooyoung is leaning over the workbench and into the other person’s space is probably a step over the line of friendly customer service. Yeosang hastens his steps.
As he gets closer, however, he sees the way the other man is reciprocating. One strong eyebrow lifted and smirking as he responds to whatever Wooyoung had said. Wooyoung laughs and reaches out to brush a lingering touch over a broad shoulder.
“Wooyoung,” Yeosang says as he approaches. “You made a friend?”
Wooyoung hums coyly. “Have you met Sannie?”
Yeosang slightly raises an eyebrow at the familiar address, sure that Wooyoung had just met this man. Wooyoung just returns his gesture with a wink.
The other man sweetly smiles at Yeosang and holds out a hand. “Choi San,” he introduces himself.
Yeosang lightly grips San’s hand, afraid he’ll notice the metal underneath. San shakes it twice back and his easy smile remains on his face.
Yeosang joins Wooyoung behind the stall where Mon is beeping urgently.
“I don’t think your android likes me very much,” San laughs.
Wooyoung dismisses San with a wave that he somehow manages to make flirtatious. “Oh, they’re just protective over me, don’t mind the beeping.”
“I can see why. You must have suitors lined up outside your door.”
“Mm, not right now. I’m keeping my options open.” Wooyoung drags a finger over the grain of the table.
Yeosang knows that if he were able to blush, blood would be rushing into his cheeks at full force right now.
“And how open are those options?” San leans in a breath closer.
Okay, Yeosang has officially had enough of whatever is going on here. He drops the chicken he was still holding onto a free space in the back.
“So, San,” he interrupts. “What can we help you with?”
Wooyoung pouts at him. San, at least, looks sufficiently embarrassed, the tips of his ears turn a deep scarlet.
“I’m, uh, actually here to pick up an android for my grandmother? Choi Hyunyoung.”
Wooyoung lights up even further, if that were possible. “You’re one of Mrs. Choi’s famous grandchildren! She talks about you lot all the time, but I’ve never actually got to meet one.” He pokes at San’s broad chest like he’s a zoo exhibit. San doesn’t seem to mind.
Yeosang clears his throat. “Of course, I’ll just go get it from the back. Wooyoung, can you take his payment, please?”
Wooyoung gives Yeosang a look that says he’d like to take a lot more than just San’s payment. Yeosang resolutely ignores him.
When he returns with Mrs. Choi’s android, Yeosang catches Wooyoung and San exchanging ID numbers. Well at least Wooyoung got something out of the day.
“Here you are,” he hands off the android. “Please give my best to Mrs. Choi.”
San gives him another one of those easy smiles. “Thanks, I will. Nice meeting you both,” He gives one last heat-filled look to Wooyoung before leaving with the fixed android.
“Oh my stars, he was so hot I think I’m going to die ,” Wooyoung exclaims in misery. But Yeosang can also see the bright spark in his eye so he’s not too worried.
Yeosang just hands him the now-warm chicken skewer. “Okay, Mr. Open Options.”
Wooyoung wails dramatically. “Betrayed by my own best friend! Just when I was about to give him the best news of my life. Oh well,” Wooyoung sighs forlornly, “I guess Sangie will never know.”
Yeosang pokes him with his skewer stick. Then pokes him again for good measure. That’s all it takes for Wooyoung to relent with giggly pleas for mercy.
“Alright, alright. Well,” he paused for dramatic effect. “I got an internship in the city!”
“Wooyoung!” Yeosang exclaims. “That’s amazing.”
Three whole months with his best friend sounds like a dream .
“And that’s not even the best part.” Wooyoung wiggles his eyebrows.
Yeosang tilts his head in question.
Wooyoung lets the silence simmer and Yeosang raises his skewer threateningly again.
“It’s with Kim Hongjoong !”
Yeosang actually audibly gasps at that. Kim Hongjoong is the most famous designer in New Seoul. He’s designed clothes for every single one of Yunseo’s favourite netdrama actors. He’s even dressed Prince Seonghwa for official events more than once.
And he achieved it all before the age of twenty-one. He had made headlines starting when he was a kid for the unique designs he came up with in the back of his mother’s tiny tailoring shop.
He had also made headlines for being a cyborg.
Despite the many challenges for cyborgs to gain recognition in New Seoul, no one could deny Hongjoong’s pure talent. And so, he was probably the single most famous cyborg in the city. Maybe even the country.
“Wooyoung, that’s incredible,” Yeosang feels his heart fill for his best friend. “I’m so proud of you.”
Yeosang feels the pressure behind his eyelids that indicates his body wants to cry. At least they’re happy tears this time.
“Thanks, Sangie,” his grin is sharp, belying the pride he also feels in himself.
Wooyoung suddenly claps his hands. “Now let me treat you to dessert to celebrate!” he speeds off before Yeosang can even protest.
Yeosang’s responding eye roll is fond.
✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧
TRANSCRIPT EXCERPT: [ECBN LIVE COVERAGE OF PEACE BALL LEAD-UP WITH LEE BORA AND HAN HYEONU]
LEE: Welcome back to the Eastern Commonwealth Broadcasting Network, live at 1900. If you’re just now tuning in, tonight's coverage has a special focus on our nation’s upcoming Peace Ball. I’ll turn to my partner Hyeonu to give an update on recent developments.
HAN: Thank you, Bora. With just over two weeks until the 118th Peace Ball, the Imperial Palace has sent out invitations to lucky citizens of New Seoul. The Peace Ball has been held in the Eastern Commonwealth every year of the Third Era, celebrating the end of the Fourth World War.
LEE: It’s also why this year’s celebration is particularly important, isn’t that right?
HAN: That’s right, Bora. Recent tensions with the Kingdom of the Americas have come to a head over territory disputes in the Pacific Ocean. The ball will mark the first time that King Clemente has convened with the other world leaders since talks broke down. Crown Prince Seonghwa has been taking the lead in this matter since Emperor Doyoon’s condition has progressed.
LEE: Queen Helena of the European Federation is set to arrive a week ahead of the Peace Ball. Her connection with the Eastern Commonwealth has always been strong thanks to her late husband, Prince Consort Junwoo. Imperial Palace officials are hopeful that her longstanding ties with our nation can help to bring about a strong and mutual alliance.
HAN: Queen Helena’s adopted son, Prince Yunho will also arrive with the delegation.
LEE: Ahead of the Peace Ball, please be aware of the following business and road closures[…]
✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧
Yeosang spends the next few days catching up with Wooyoung and working on Prince Seonghwa’s android.
Eunju has never liked Wooyoung, says he’s a bad influence, so they typically hang out in Yeosang’s cramped garage. Wooyoung even tags along with him to the scrapyard, helping him pick through the heaps of metal until Wooyoung brandishes a magbelt over his head with pride. Yeosang has to sadly tell him that the one he found is a little too broken beyond repair.
Wooyoung looks slightly disappointed. “I trusted you,” he points at the rusty belt accusingly. He goes back to his task with vigour.
Wooyoung also pesters him every day about the android Yeosang’s so focused on. He throws out increasingly outlandish theories for Yeosang’s silence, it belongs to a spy for the Americas, it’s a bot to make Eunju disappear, it’s first contact from a colony of people living on the moon.
“Wooyoung, why would moon people make first contact with a cyborg mechanic?”
“I don’t know, Yeosang! Why do the moon people do anything they do?” The words startle a small giggle out of Yeosang.
“You do know that moon people don’t exist right?” Yeosang has to make sure.
“Well, how would you know? Have you ever been to the moon? I haven’t!”
Yeosang sends him a small smile, amused at his best friend's antics. “If I tell you who the android actually belongs to, will you lay off?”
Wooyoung eagerly nods, miming sealing his mouth shut. Yeosang’s sure it won’t last for longer than two minutes, but he appreciates the effort. Yeosang’s been dying inside to talk about this with someone, anyways, and Wooyoung is the person he trusts most in the world.
Mon chirps encouragingly from beside them.
“Prince Seonghwa,” he states deadpan.
Wooyoung laughs loudly, “Sorry Sangie, I thought you just said Prince Seonghwa .”
“That’s because I did.”
Wooyoung holds his gaze for a second, two, but Yeosang has never been one for jokes of this sort. After the sixth second of silence Wooyoung bursts out of his seat. “Prince Seonghwa! With my Yeosangie! Tell me everything .”
And so Yeosang does, regaling Wooyoung with the tale of his meeting with the prince.
When he’s done Wooyoung sits and stares at him for another few seconds. Yeosang seems to have stunned him into silence for the first time ever. But when Wooyoung finally speaks, the words that come out of his mouth are not what he had been expecting.
“Yeosang,” he says with wonder. “He likes you .”
He looks at Wooyoung incredulously. “How is that what you got from my story?”
Wooyoung looks between his eyes. Yeosang doesn’t know what he’s looking for, but apparently Wooyoung finds it because his eyes light up with glee.
“Oh my stars, you like him too!”
“I– what. Wooyoung, he’s– what. He’s a prince ,” Yeosang eloquently sputters.
Wooyoung’s grin broadens a touch. “I didn’t hear a denial in that!”
Yeosang tries to interrupt him, but now Wooyoung’s on a roll. He kicks back in his chair, spinning himself around on the swivel.
“He gave you his ID number!”
“I have to contact him somehow,” Yeosang rebuts.
“He was so sweet to Mon-ie!”
“Is being nice a crime?”
“No, but Mon’s practically your child, so he’s looking for the adoption papers already!” Wooyoung can’t be stopped. “He smiled at you!”
“Smiling is practically his job, Wooyoung.”
“My best friend’s going to marry a prince !” he shouts. “This is exactly like that old teledrama.” Wooyoung nods sagely.
“And what would that be?”
“You know! Prince falls in love with fair maiden. Fair maiden goes to ball and gets swept off her her feet by prince. They get married and live happily ever after.” Wooyoung clasps his hands to his chest and bats his eyelashes.
“I don’t exactly think I’m the fair maiden type, Wooyoung.”
“Sangie, have you ever looked in a mirror!” Wooyoung looks scandalized. “You’re so pretty. You just sometimes get covered in oil.”
Yeosang can’t help but be a little pleased that Wooyoung thinks he’s pretty. It means a lot coming from his best friend who is practically the perfect image of beauty.
With his angular face and under eye beauty mark, Wooyoung was probably the first person Yeosang had ever found beautiful .
Wooyoung dramatically frames his face, “We’ll make a princess of you yet, Kang Yeosang!”
✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧
Yeosang is still working on the prince's android with Wooyoung chattering beside him at a mile a minute. He’ll be starting his internship tomorrow, so they’re trying to spend as much time together as possible.
Yeosang is fully concentrated on the android in front of him when Wooyoung suddenly screeches after checking his portscreen.
“Wooyoung!” Yeosang jolts.
“Sangie, turn on the telescreen!” Wooyoung ignores him.
Yeosang reaches over to turn on the beat up screen that rests beside his workbench. It’s so old that it still has manual buttons. The screen crackles to life, taking a second to blur in and out of focus.
The screen clears onto a news station, Prince Seonghwa’s face coming into focus. He is greeting a familiar looking woman in front of him, a young man a step behind her.
Prince Seonghwa shakes her hand, exchanging a few words as the flash of cameras lights them up. The smile on his face is wide and practiced, so different from the sweet smiles he had given Yeosang at the market.
The top of the screen calls the moment live footage.
“–from the Imperial Palace where Crown Prince Seonghwa has just welcomed the royal party of the European Federation into his home,” the onscreen reporter is saying. “There has been no word as of yet on any other royal delegations set to attend the Peace Ball. Back to you in the studio, Bora.”
“Thank you, Sohee.” The feed cuts back into the newsroom where two casters are looking intensely serious. “This visit comes after this morning’s shocking news. The European Federation will only consider an alliance with the Eastern Commonwealth if it is one of marriage.”
Wooyoung gasps.
The other reporter takes over. “As the only eligible member of the Commonwealth’s royal family, this proposition falls entirely to the Crown Prince.”
“We will update this ongoing story as it progresses. In other news, many are gathering–” Wooyoung reaches over to mute the telescreen.
“You don’t think it’s true, do you?” he says, turning back in Yeosang’s direction. Yeosang feels like a buzzing sort of stillness has settled over the garage.
“The prince would never agree to something like that.” He feels the uncertainty of his words even as he says them.
“With the threat of war from the Americas?” Wooyoung asks. “I’m not so sure.”
Seeing the serious expression on Wooyoung’s face feels out of place.
Yeosang suddenly remembers something. “Isn’t the prince of the European Federation not technically related to the queen? Doesn’t that mean that they’re proposing Seonghwa marry Queen Helena instead?”
“Oh my stars I’m going to be sick.” Wooyoung says. “She’s more than double his age! The same age as her son .”
Yeosang can’t believe it either. He feels his stomach twist.
“That’s so not right,” Wooyoung is still going. “Why does she need to marry a twenty-year old! Why can’t she just offer her help!”
“Wooyoung, I’m pretty sure that’s not how politics works.”
“Well it should!” Wooyoung crosses his arms and huffs. Yeosang can’t argue with him there.
“I wonder how Prince Seonghwa feels about all of this,” Yeosang wonders out loud. “It must be hard. Dealing with all of this while his father is so sick.”
Wooyoung shares his sympathy. “I wish there was something we could do.”
Yeosang shrugs. Neither of them have any power over the players of the world. They just have to trust Prince Seonghwa will handle it.
But Wooyoung’s morose disposition quickly fades as Yeosang sees a familiar troublesome spark in his eye. “But there kind of is something we can do, isn’t there?”
“Wooyoung, whatever you’re thinking please don’t say it out loud.”
“You have his ID number , Yeosang! You should comm him!” He waggles his eyebrows.
“Wooyoung, I can’t just casually message the crown prince! What would I even say?”
Wooyoung looks at him seriously, says, “‘Hey sorry about the marriage, wanna hit?’” and bursts out laughing.
“Wooyoung!” Yeosang looks around for something to throw at him.
“Don’t let his potential wife stop you from finding your husband, Sangie!”
Yeosang finds an empty bolt box and throws it at his face, Wooyoung easily batting it away. Yeosang can’t help but laugh along with him at the ridiculousness of the image.
“Just promise me one thing, Yeosang,” Wooyoung looks serious again. Yeosang nods to show he’s listening.
“When you marry Prince Seonghwa, please let me plan the wedding.” He sticks out his pinky finger.
Yeosang fondly rolls his eyes. “In the extremely unlikely event I marry a prince, I promise you that you can plan everything.”
Yeosang wraps his metal pinky around Wooyoung’s. Wooyoung doesn’t flinch.
They giggle with each other at the scenario, pinkies still intertwined, in the cramped space of the garage.
✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧
Long after Wooyoung has left for his own home, Yeosang is still working on Prince Seonghwa’s android. He finally ran a full diagnostic now that he had the time and space to unlatch his own neck panel and connect himself to the bot. He made sure the cable was one-sided in case the android did have anything malicious on it.
The last thing Yeosang wanted was to infect his own software with a royal bug.
But he had stumbled into a roadblock. The hardware was entirely in working condition. The android’s software was where the problem lay, and he needed a passcode to get through it.
Prince Seonghwa’s passcode.
He and Wooyoung had joked about him comms messaging the prince earlier. But it seemed like that was his only option. Manually getting through the firewall would take him at least another week and he had promised the prince it would be done before then.
Yeosang taps his fingers on the metal bench a few times. He really has no choice.
He tries to hype himself up in steps. He slowly takes out his portscreen and opens up his ID contacts page.
The prince’s ID had scanned in simply as Park Seonghwa , so he takes his time scrolling through the alphabet in his contacts. Not that he has many.
Quicker than he’d like, Yeosang finds himself hovering over the P ’s. He taps the contact before he can psych himself out again. The screen automatically opens up a new comms chat. The empty text box blinks up at him menacingly.
Now to actually write the message.
Prince Seonghwa seemed to not want anyone to know about this, so Yeosang will keep it casual and vague. Skipping the titles since this was his personal ID and it might look suspicious to be overly formal.
Yeosang taps out a message and reads it over about ten times. He quickly adds something at the end and hits send before he can overthink it.
Kang Yeosang : hi, this is yeosang. i’ve found the issue with your android, but i need a passcode to get through to fix it. thanks :)
Yeosang drops his head against the table causing it to thud, echoing loudly in the space. Why would he introduce himself when his name is already in Prince Seonghwa’s contacts? Why would he add that smiley face at the end?
Yeosang groans and aggressively powers his portscreen off. He shoves it back in his pocket for good measure.
His retina display is connected to his port anyways, so he’ll know as soon as the prince responds. In the meantime, Yeosang seeks to distract himself as much as possible.
He works on commissions from other clients, fixing a few netscreens and a different android on autopilot. It’s past midnight when he emerges from his productive state.
Yeosang makes his way back upstairs, making sure to keep quiet, and sneaks into his room. He’s just settling in under his blankets when a notification flashes in his vision. He usually mutes his retina display while he’s sleeping, but he hadn’t gotten around to it yet.
Yeosang shoots up, making a grab for his port on the night table. He blinks his eyes a few times to make sure he’s reading the message right.
Park Seonghwa: Hello, Yeosang. The passcode is 181117. Thank you for your hard work.
Park Seonghwa: :)
Yeosang checks his internal clock and sees that it’s nearly one o’clock in the morning. He wonders if the prince is just now getting into bed too.
Yeosang realizes too late that his read receipts are on and he can’t wait until morning to think of a reply. Shit.
Kang Yeosang: thanks! it’s my pleasure. i’ll continue working on her first thing in the morning.
He decides against another smiley face. Quickly taps out another message before he can stop himself.
Kang Yeosang: what are you doing up so late?
The prince’s reply comes shockingly fast.
Park Seonghwa: Haha I could ask you the same question. This is actually early for me. Long day.
Yeosang bites his lip. He never would have guessed that Prince Seonghwa comms like an old man. It’s incredibly cute.
Kang Yeosang: me too. i’m usually in the shop til way later. taking it easy today ^-^
Kang Yeosang: i saw the news. are you ok?
Seonghwa’s comms bubbles appear and disappear a few times. Yeosang feels his stomach dip.
Park Seonghwa: I’m alright, thank you for asking. Why do you usually work so late? If you don’t mind me asking.
Yeosang notices the quick change in topic, but lets it go.
Kang Yeosang: too many commissions and not enough hours in the workday T_T
Kang Yeosang: but i love the work, so i can’t complain too much
Park Seonghwa: How did you find a passion for mechanics at such a young age, anyways? You were recommended to me by one of the mechanics in the palace. He gave a startlingly glowing review.
Yeosang bites his lip, debating how much to say. But it’s not everyday a prince is interested in his life. Even if he’s just being polite. But Yeosang has a strange feeling he’s genuine.
Kang Yeosang: my father
Kang Yeosang: he taught me everything i know. he would take me down to his workshop every sunday and we would take things apart and put them back together again from sunup til sundown
Kang Yeosang: it’s silly but i feel like i keep his memory alive every time i fix a watch or spill a tin of oil
Park Seonghwa: That’s not silly at all. You’re very talented, I’m sure he’s incredibly proud of you.
Yeosang blinks to try to stave off his tear-headache.
Park Seonghwa: Don’t lose that passion. There’s a bright spark in you.
He abruptly laughs. If only the prince knew. But he is still incredibly grateful for the words.
Kang Yeosang: thank you, that means a lot to me
Park Seonghwa: You’re welcome.
Park Seonghwa: I should head to sleep now, though. And you should too.
Park Seonghwa: Good night, Yeosang.
Kang Yeosang: good night :)
Yeosang closes his port and lays it face down on his chest. The stillness in his room seems strange when the rushing in his head is roaring.
He can’t believe Wooyoung’s advice had actually worked. He’s going to be so insufferable about this.
But Yeosang strangely feels a weight lifted off of his chest from the prince’s words. From Seonghwa’s words. He thinks that tonight he saw a glimpse of where the two separate. Seonghwa the Prince and Seonghwa the Person.
He wonders if that separation exists within himself too. If one day people can see Yeosang the Person instead of Yeosang the Cyborg.
Yeosang feels his lips unconsciously purse into a small smile.
Maybe Yeosang will never live in the same world as Seonghwa the Prince. And that Seonghwa can never meet Yeosang the Cyborg.
But he thinks he likes Seonghwa the Person. And maybe Seonghwa can like Yeosang the Person too.