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What he was up to.

While The Kingdom was bustling in chaos, whirlwinds of uncertainty wandering about The King's head, his twin- The Alleged Saint was earning a livelihood in the Capitol City of Baekmin.

What was 'Bohoja' doing dressed as a nobleman, living amidst sages?

He was duping people.

The wolf in a sheep's costume as he was.

His well to do and curt appearance coupled with his brown magoja gave him a sophisticated look and Baekmin was all about dressing.

Your dressing was an indicator of the class you belonged to and Bohoja's outfit surely handed him a free pass.

Although he was questioned one too many times about his scar, he rubbished it away by claiming that the sword of the enemy Kingdom of Silkim's soldier had pierced his epidermis in the rather famous war.

He was admired for his chivalrous story.

Veterans were deemed pious and respected amidst the locals in Baekmin.

He was hired immediately by a wealthy merchant who had him handle trading.

He managed and overlooked the trade of ammunitions to different parts of Baekmin.

It earned him quite a sum and some extra commission from those who wanted issued weapons at subsidised rates.

He was prospering.

His brooding and musky looks got him turns and looks from the young women in the Capitol.

He'd be passing by the markets and women on carts would turn and look back at him, one too many times.

He knew he was handsome and was well aware of the effect his peculiar appearance had on women.

At the end of the day, he was a man with needs and never turned down a lady.

The daughter of The Merchant had caught his eye.

She was his boss's daughter who'd started dropping by her father's workplace far too often.

Her longing looks towards Bohoja hadn't gone amiss.

He knew she was coming in to see him.

What started off as innocent flirting, in the form of subtle hand caresses and shoulder bumps whilst passing each other, had transpired into a steamy affair.

An affair that had him pinned against the brick wall behind The Merchant's factory, pressed against his daughter as they kissed each other's smirks off of their faces, letting go of the sexual tension that had been rising between the two.

While he had the woman, the unattainable daughter of his boss, between his arms and against the cold hard surface, he was intoxicated.

His frustrations had found an outlet.

The Min brothers were very similar in their choices of women.

They both were captivated by innocence as a part of their desire to corrupt what was deemed pure and pious.

Bohoja knew he was making Soojin dream dreams that weren't ever going to come true.

If needed, he would kill her along with her petty excuse of a husband, Min Yun Ki.

He'd laugh at the letters Soojin wrote to him, desperation and longing dripping off of her ink for him.

He loved manipulating someone as vulnerable and incapable as her, his perfect play thing.

He'd spew lines full of shit for Soojin, allowing her to dream of a better time and igniting a fire in her heart and mind against his Shadow.

He was growing powerful, forming connections and allies with influential people in Baekmin.

Need be, he'd even marry The Merchant's daughter just to be able to inherit the money her father owned.

He was basically seeing her anyway.

She'd even be wanting to make things official but Bohoja wanted to wait.

Wait for times to untangle and situations to become clearer for him to be able to take such decisions.

All he was focused on now was weaving conspiracies against his younger brother who he very much hated and every time his rich girlfriend ran the pads of her finger over his scar, he'd be fuelled with rage and fury.

Stupid Soojin, she was falling into his traps just as he'd planned.

Bohoja, she called him.

Reading the word cracked him up for he wasn't her shield.

He was nothing to her.

And she meant nothing to him, most certainly.

She was just a puppet, just a means to get work done.

Just a means to ruin Min Yun Ki.

Just a means to inch closer to his dreams of taking over Baekmin.

If he had to pass through shrouds of dead bodies, he would still be just as willing.

He was undeterred, unwatered and most of all, vengeful for the scar.

The scar that lay heavy on his face.

The scar that he'd not only given his younger brother whom he despised but his own self, as well.