Your Majesty, I'm Not Awakened! (BL)

The now long-haired Ryujin kept his face blank as he tried to make sense of what's happening.

No one seemed to realize his panic. Yet.

The weight of their stares pressed down on Ryujin, suffocating him in its intensity. 

He instinctively wanted to move, to back away, but a firm hand still held his own, grounding him. 

Oh, right. Someone was holding his hand.

He turned toward the person closest to him.

And the sight made him pause.

The young man beside him was breathtaking. He was the most beautiful man Ryujin had ever seen, including those celebrities his younger brother hung out with. 

In his late teens or early twenties, with high cheekbones, pale golden hair framing his cheeks, and… long, pointed ears peeking through the strands. 

Ryujin blinked, hoping he's seeing them wrong.

Nope. Those ears were indeed long and pointed.

Like an elf's.

His vision took in the faces of the strangers around him, men and women of various ages, clad in ornate robes of deep blue, black, and gold. None of them had long, pointed ears. Only the man holding his hand.

For a second, he felt relieved, then realizing his situation, a sense of unease curled in Ryujin's stomach.

The people looked… expectant.

He had seen that look before. The quiet reverence of people waiting for something important to happen.

Why were they looking at him like that?

He turned his gaze toward the man closest to him, the stranger still clutching his hand. Even without his elven ears, Ryujin would have still singled him out of the crowd. He was that beautiful.

The stranger had the most striking features—a sharp jawline, and deep-set eyes filled with something dark and unreadable. 

And beneath that unreadability, Ryujin caught something else.

Relief. 

Then, something strange happened.

As soon as their eyes met, a voice—not spoken, but felt—resonated in Ryujin's mind.

[He's awake… Thank the Heavens. If we had lost him, if I had lost him—]

Ryujin inhaled sharply.

The thought wasn't his.

It belonged to the man holding his hand.

A shiver ran down his spine. 

What the hell—

[I was so afraid he wouldn't wake up.]

The thought was raw, saturated with relief so strong it nearly made Ryujin's breath hitch.

But the young man's lips hadn't moved.

He wasn't just imagining things. It was as if the man's thoughts had been plucked straight from his mind and placed directly into Ryujin's.

Slowly, cautiously, Ryujin tested it again. He shifted his gaze toward another person in the room, an older man with silver streaks in his beard, standing slightly behind the rest.

[The Prime Minister lives. Heavens have not abandoned us. But what if his mind was damaged? Can he still lead?]

Ryujin stiffened.

Prime Minister?

Who? Him?

His eyes darted to another figure, a woman in a flowing navy-blue robe near the back. Another voice—hers—slipped into his consciousness.

[The assassination failed… He survived… They will surely try again.]

Ryujin's breath hitched.

Assassination?

No, no, no. This isn't normal.

His pulse pounded in his ears. He turned away, breaking eye contact, and the voices stopped. He swallowed hard, his heart hammering against his ribs.

He could hear their thoughts.

But only when their eyes met his.

A sickening realization settled into his gut.

These people thought Ryujin was their Prime Minister.

A man who had supposedly survived an assassination attempt.

A case of mistaken identity?

He was but a lucky survivor of a monster-infested city, and even before that, he was merely an ordinary person from an ordinary family.

He's Lee Ryujin, a graphic artist, not some almost assassinated Prime Minister! 

Ryujin tried to focus, to listen to the voices around him, but he realized another problem. 

Though he could hear their thoughts as clearly as if they were his own, their spoken words were nothing but incomprehensible noise to him. A foreign, melodic language that meant absolutely nothing.

He was sure of it now—this wasn't the city, this wasn't Earth. And more importantly…

He had awakened.

A real Awakened ability.

His breath came shallow, his hands clammy despite the warmth of the room. 

According to the researchers led by Dr. Jones, the awakening of supernatural abilities was highly likely triggered by a person's innate nature and the perceived danger during the time of awakening. It would usually manifest because one needed it the most to survive during that certain moment.

And yet now, in this unfamiliar place, it had actually happened.

Why?

A sudden squeeze on his fingers snapped him out of his spiraling thoughts.

The beautiful man was watching him closely, concern etched across his sharp features.

In the language Ryujin could not understand, the man murmured, his voice low but steady. 

Several people came close to examine Ryujin. 

From their actions, he could not tell if they were physicians or priests. Maybe a bit of both? 

One took his pulse, others touched him with a strange-looking equipment that looked like a medieval magic item with gemstones. Fascinating magic circles glowed in mid-air. 

Some nodded, some shook their heads. They looked confused. Others tried to ask him questions.

Of course, Ryujin did not answer. He could read their minds, but he could not speak their language. 

Upon further consideration, it seemed best to show he could not understand them. Ignorance could be a weapon if used wisely.

Another argument broke out between the beautiful man and the pseudo-looking congregation of healers. Fortunately, they stopped when Ryujin let out a yawn.

After the beautiful man yelled at them, something along the lines of Ryujin needing rest, a group of armored men stormed in and drove everyone outside the room. 

Were they soldiers? Guards? 

The armored men gave a bow before departing. Everyone left.

Except for one.

The man who appeared to have the highest authority in this place.

Inside the grand chamber, Ryujin and the beautiful man remained alone. 

[Rio, why is your expression so stiff? What's wrong?] 

[Are you truly ill? Why won't you speak?]

Was Rio the name of their real Prime Minister?

Before Ryujin could react, the man reached out and brushed back a few strands of his long hair. His action was gentle, familiar.

Too familiar.

The touch sent a jolt through Ryujin. 

There was something unbearably fragile in the man's expression. A trembling breath escaped him, and his fingers gently cradled Ryujin's hand, as if afraid he might disappear if he let go.

Ryujin blinked at his actions, stunned.

The man's mind was quiet now, his thoughts carefully guarded. But his expression spoke volumes. The quiet intensity in his gaze. The way his thumb unconsciously traced small circles over the back of Ryujin's hand.

Ryujin didn't know this man's name nor know exactly how Rio was related to this man. But he wasn't dumb enough to not notice. 

His actions so far were not something someone would do to a brother or a friend.

But the problem was…

I'm not Rio.

And I'm straight.

How would this man react when he realizes he's got the wrong person? Would he have those armored men drag him out too?