Chapter Text
“You look terrible.”
“Why thank you,” Jinchul replied, without even looking up. In a desk chair that had almost definitely been pilfered from one of the other offices sat Hunter Sung Jinwoo, leaning casually on the back, lazily commenting on what the hunter liked to call his ‘peak sleep-deprived-student aesthetic,’ and just generally being a menace.
Why he had even allowed this idiot into his office was beyond him.
Probably because he was the only S-rank I would trust not to trash the place, Jinchul thought fondly. He ignored the satisfied hum in his chest at that fact.
“I am this close to just using my S-rank privileges and requesting you for random some urgent mission so you can rest,” Hunter Sung told him flatly, “just go back to your apartment or something. Do you even see the inside of your apartment more than once a week? Once a month?”
“I do,” Jinchul grumbled. There was a pause. “...Once a week,” he muttered.
Hunter Sung raised an unimpressed eyebrow.
“... Look, you try being the division manager and tell me how many incidents idiots cause every day,” Jinchul mumbled.
“At this rate, I just might, if only to let you take a day off.”
Jinchul couldn’t tell whether Hunter Sung was being serious. He glanced up at him. Hunter Sung’s expression was a perfect blank wall, the pest. Jinchul shook his head in mild irritation and turned back to the papers in front of him. This one needed his signature, this one had a couple more entries to write in… that could go on the left pile to be completed later, and who in their right mind even put this mess of a file sheet on his desk—
Hunter Sung sighed. “Look, why don’t you just take a half-day off this afternoon? Or even tomorrow? If your eye bags get any worse I’ll be able to use them to carry my groceries.”
Jinchul paused as his hand reached for the next paper. The humor in the hunter’s voice was standard, but the note of concern was genuine. Woo Jinchul was once again reminded that Hunter Sung Jinwoo was not only one of the oddest high-rank hunters out there, but also one of the few high-rankers who were genuinely concerned for him as a person, rather than seeing him as a tool for the smooth operation of the Hunter Association management, or a human toy to be entertained by. It was an odd realization each time it came, but made him feel warm no matter how many times it had been. Perhaps that was why he couldn’t immediately dismiss Hunter Sung’s dignified whinging.
Jinchul rested his elbows against the table and dragged his hands against his face, attempting to rub away the tiredness, in vain.
“I probably won’t be able to sleep much anyway,” Jinchul admitted, if only to himself, “work takes up a lot of my mind, and there will always be a worry that I’ll miss an incident that I should have been there for. I know—” he held up a hand to forestall Hunter Sung’s protest, “—the Association employees can handle it fine, they’re trained and all very capable. It’s just paranoia, I suppose.” He rubbed his eyes once more. “Doesn’t change the fact that it’s hard for me to take a day off.”
He looked up to see an oddly grim look on the Hunter’s face. Of course, Jinchul remembered, Hunter Sung would probably understand the need to be everywhere at once. The rising number of high-ranking gates and the tragedy at his sister’s school had ensured that.
The hunter took a deep breath, and the gloomy expression faded, replaced by a soft, contemplative gaze. He opened his mouth, then hesitated. Jinchul waited.
“I can probably help with that, if you’re comfortable.”
Jinchul raised an eyebrow. “Don’t tell me you’re going to pull out another obscure skill from wherever you hoard those things.”
Sung Jinwoo snorted, almost despite himself. “You can look at it like that.” His face fell back into seriousness. “It might be uncomfortable though, but I would make sure you could get out of it.”
“Now you’re making me curious.”
Hunter Sung grimaced. “It’s hypnotism, basically.”
Jinchul stilled.
“I know you don’t have the best track record with S-ranks and control—that’s… an understatement, I know, but still—this would be easy to break out of by flaring mana. And it might help with the sleep,” Hunter Sung finished awkwardly.
There was silence in the cubicle for a moment.
“This was a terrible suggestion wasn’t it?” Hunter Sung mumbled, “I’m just going to go.” He pushed back the chair and uncomfortably made to stand up.
Jinchul was hesitating, still. It was true, he had a uniquely terrible track record with the higher ranks. It was true as well, the idea of giving up control made him a little uncomfortable, and even telling someone about his insomnia had never really occurred to him, let alone asking for help with it. But the suggestion, and from Hunter Sung Jinwoo…
“I’ll think about it,” Jinchul said.
Hunter Sung froze from where his hand was reaching the doorknob. “Huh?”
“I don’t know if I can decide now, but I’ll think about it for a couple days. I probably won’t collapse before then,” Jinchul said with a sardonic smile.
“Oh.” Hunter Sung blinked rapidly, surprised. “Of course. I’m sorry if it felt like I was pressuring you in any way to decide today.” He dipped his head. “I’ll see you whenever you would like, then.”
The door swung shut with a nearly silent click behind him.
With just that easy acknowledgement, respect, and simple exit, Jinchul found that he trusted Hunter Sung more than anything else.
Jinchul barely got any sleep again that night, but at least for once the cause was different.
What would it be like, to let someone I trust take care of me?
Jinchul’s face burned red at his thoughts. The scene of the day before, the offer, the easy acceptance, replayed in his mind over and over. He found, to his surprise, that he actually wanted to try it out.
It was a simple text message, but Jinchul had never thought so hard about pushing the “send” button. He tossed the phone into some miscellaneous pocket of his coat and promptly and rather unsuccessfully attempted to forget about it.
Fifteen minutes later, there was a knock on his door. Jinchul looked up.
“Come in,” he muttered, knowing that Hunter Sung would definitely hear.
As if reading his thoughts, the office door cracked open, and the man himself awkwardly stepped inside, swinging the door shut with a quiet click.
“Hey.” Hunter Sung Jinwoo did a little cutesy wave.
Jinchul’s mouth twitched. He pushed aside the stack of papers that littered his desk and looked up. “Hello, Hunter Sung. Seat’s right over there.” He nodded to the hunter’s customary stolen office chair, and Hunter Sung just rolled his eyes.
“I got your text,” Hunter Sung mentioned, “but it basically just said ‘see me in my office’ like some kind of school principal.” He narrowed his eyes in faux-suspicion. “Are you a school principal, Chief Woo? Have you been holding out on me?”
“Well, this job does feel like babysitting sometimes,” Jinchul remarked.
Hunter Sung snorted. “Way to put it subtly.”
Jinchul took a deep breath. Some of the nerves had dissipated with the comfortable banter, but some nervous energy remained. “Can we try that thing you were talking about the other day?”
Hunter Sung looked at him for a moment, then nodded. “Of course. I thought you might have wanted more time to think about it.”
Jinchul couldn’t deny being the smallest bit touched. “I wanted to try it out. Is there any way to just have it happen for a couple minutes at most?”
Hunter Sung nodded. “Easily.”
“Then yes.” Jinchul let out another breath. “Just for a couple minutes, please.”
“Alright.” Hunter Sung rose from the chair and came to lean on the other side of the desk. Then he paused just before he lifted his arm. “You know, you don’t have to do this. I can still pull S-rank privilege and request a normal day off for you. There’s no need to continue.”
That care only makes me more comfortable with my choice, Jinchul observed.
“I know,” he replied, “and I would still like to try.”
Hunter Sung said nothing, but dipped his head slightly in acknowledgement. He raised his arm and let it hover next to Jinchul’s head for a moment. Then, Hunter Sung’s finger pressed gently against his temple. Jinchul felt a small spot of warmth bloom directly under the slight pressure, and everything went blank.
Jinchul blinked slowly. His eyelids felt like they were traveling through molasses. He struggled to lift them open once more, but at the gentle brush of a thumb against his cheek he let go, and gratefully allowed them to flutter all the way closed.
Distantly, Jinchul could feel the cheap ballpoint pen slip through his limp fingers and clatter onto the floor, but he couldn’t bring himself to care. He couldn’t bring himself to worry about anything, really. Even thoughts were a struggle. Everything was all fog and warmth, and Jinchul let himself lean back until he lay loose and relaxed inside the fluffy clouds in his mind.
It felt nice.
Soft.
Blank.
Distantly, he could feel the light pressure vanish from his temple, but it didn’t register. His awareness was delightfully limited to just the warm hum of sleepiness in his body.
He felt just the smallest movement, and Jinchul realized that the wonderfully comfortable fog was slowly dissipating. The warmth in his mind gradually drained out of his body until Jinchul was left, slowly blinking out of his daze, all but draped in a loose-limbed slouch across his office chair.
“Chief Woo,” came a calm voice from in front of him. Hunter Sung?
The hazy sensation had not yet entirely dissipated. His ears felt like they were full of wool and the softest of cottons.
“Could you flare your mana a bit, please?”
Jinchul hummed his agreement, head lolling to the side. How had he never noticed just how comfortable his chair was? But Hunter Sung had asked him to do something…
Jinchul found his core, his mana flow, and focused. It wasn’t like it was difficult normally, but right at this moment it was somehow incredibly easy. After a second, he could vaguely feel the comforting hum of what he now recognized as Hunter Sung’s mana circling the path and heightening his access and concentration to the mana within him.
Jinchul wrapped his awareness around his mana core and flared it.
Immediately, clarity washed through his mind like a wave crashing against the shore, picking up the scattered remains of the mental fog and washing it cleanly away. The world spun for a split second and Jinchul immediately reoriented himself.
He was still in his chair, in his office. The desk was to his right, the monitor having transitioned into a stock screensaver. One of the cheap office ballpoint pens was on the floor, half-hidden behind one of the wheels of the chair. Before him, Hunter Sung peered at him with narrowed eyes, almost imperceptibly glowing a light shade of blue that tinged the usual black into gray.
The concern in his gaze was clear as day.
Jinchul felt another wave of warmth run through him, this time nothing to do with mana.
He rolled his shoulders, shifted himself back into a better position on the office chair, and looked back up at Hunter Sung.
The man frowned. “Was that too much? I’m sorry if—”
“No,” Jinchul interrupted. He smiled slightly crookedly. “That was nice.”
Sung Jinwoo frowned. “Are you sure? I thought this was the kind of thing you wanted to avoid, especially with S-ranks…” He trailed off.
Jinchul couldn’t help the amusement that bubbled up. “Hunter Sung—”
“Just call me Jinwoo.”
I suppose consensual mind control does qualify for a first-name basis, Jinchul admitted to himself.
“Call me Jinchul, then,” he continued seamlessly, “And there’s a difference there.” He nodded towards the hunter. “None of them would have looked at me with even a hint of the concern you show.”
Jinwoo studied him for a moment, contemplative. Jinchul gazed back, almost challengingly. Jinwoo’s mouth twitched.
“You know yourself best, then.”
Jinchul couldn’t help but smile. To think I could find an S-rank who can respect boundaries. “That’s my point.”
Jinwoo tilted his head in silent admission and waited for him to continue.
Jinchul turned back to face his desk. “I have paperwork that really needs to get done tonight—” he ignored the hunter’s narrowed eyes and grumble of weren’t we just talking about resting, Chief, “—so tomorrow?”
He could see Jinwoo’s eye’s flicking, mentally recalling the list of his own schedule, likely something sparkly and obnoxiously glittery drawn up entirely by the loveable gremlin of a sister Jinwoo sometimes mentioned to him. Finally, Jinwoo nodded. “Tomorrow is good.”
Jinchul rolled his shoulders in a stretch as he left the office at four in the afternoon for the first time in a… he didn’t remember how long. It was incredibly odd, seeing the sun high in the sky, people and cars ambling about the busy streets, and the nagging feeling of things he was leaving behind unfinished. Nonetheless, he didn’t startle when Jinwoo all but materialized at his side.
“Do they know not to call unless the world is on fire?”
“Yes.” Jinchul rolled his eyes. “I told them I would take a day off.”
“Mhm.” Jinwoo stared at him suspiciously.
“Really.”
“Alright, I will hold you to that.” Jinwoo stuck his hands in his pockets and twirled around, now walking backwards with exceptional ease. “To your apartment? I can take us there.”
Jinchul resisted the urge to smack the hunter on the head for his ridiculously casual use of high-tier skills. The smack would probably feel like nothing more than a feather to the man, anyway. “Sure.”
Jinwoo held out an arm, and Jinchul grasped it. Before he knew it, a hand had landed on his shoulder and he was falling backwards, the shadows curling around him protectively, falling through a darkness that was more comforting than ominous. Even the landing was gentle, depositing him without the slightest bump on his front doorstop, the hand still on his shoulder and Jinchul’s own grasp still firmly on the hunter’s arm.
Jinchul released his grip to search for his apartment key and Jinwoo stuck his hands back into his pockets.
“Could you have just traveled to the living room?” Jinchul wondered, his fingers finally hitting on the key, and he pushed it into the lock.
“Yes,” replied Jinwoo shamelessly, “but I at least want to keep up a semblance of privacy.”
“Says the man who puts an army in people’s shadows,” Jinchul grumbled with no real heat.
“It’s the principle of the thing,” the hunter replied blithely.
“Sure.” Jinchul smoothly pushed the door open and entered, Jinwoo following behind him.
Jinchul stopped walking once he reached the living room. He took a deep breath and turned around. “Alright.”
Sung Jinwoo was leaning against the kitchen counter on the left side, his gaze calm and steady. “Dinner and then sleep?”
“Dinner?”
“I made food.” Jinwoo shrugged and gestured to the fridge.
What was that about a semblance of privacy? Jinchul stared at him dryly. Jinwoo was unrepentant, and Jinchul couldn’t help but smile despite himself. “Thank you. Sounds great.”
“You sure you’re okay with this, right now?”
“Yes.” Jinchul smiled faintly and nodded, somehow more pleased at the man’s concern than he was anticipatory.
Jinwoo nodded, and raised his hand. The index finger pressed into his temple once again and rubbed a steady circle.
Immediately, Jinchul felt his body go completely limp, and he crumpled into Jinwoo’s chest. An arm came around and hugged the back of his shoulder blades and his thoughts fled. His head felt incredibly heavy, muddled with fog and delightfully warm. It was a struggle to keep his eyes open. He yawned.
Distantly, he could feel himself being moved into a sitting position onto a softer surface, gentle hands rearranging his limbs into comfortable locations. Another flood of warmth fell over him when he noticed the care with which the touches came; shoulders, hands, knees, forehead, never anywhere vulnerable or uncomfortable, always kind.
It was blissful.
“Jinchul,” the same warm voice as before called out.
Ah, that was his name. It was nice to hear his name. The voice was nice too. He wanted to hear his name more from that voice.
As if responding to his thoughts, the voice spoke once more. “Jinchul, listen to me please.”
Jinchul hummed absently. He was listening.
The voice chuckled. “Can you flare your mana for me? I want you to get a feel for it.”
If it would let the voice laugh like that again, then anytime, of course. He let his concentration slip easily towards his center, falling slowly before landing with a sigh into his mana core. He rotated the mana around and flared.
With a tiny start, Woo Jinchul’s eyes snapped open on his living room couch, clarity chasing away the remnants of the sleepy stupor. He immediately grounded himself and turned to look questioningly at Sung Jinwoo.
“You think you can do that if you need a break or want to stop?” Jinwoo asked.
“Yes.” Jinchul was, dare he say it, touched at the consideration. He smiled at the hunter. Jinwoo must have read something in his expression, because his gaze softened. “This is nice.”
“Alright, just let me know,” Sung Jinwoo hummed, and raised his finger once more. This time, Jinchul welcomed the loose blankness and let himself fall into the pillows. The weightless fog completely filled his mind in the best way, and soon he lost all track of his thoughts. It was just him and his mind, floating in a bank of clouds.
Jinchul’s body was lifted into the air, strong arms tucked securely under his knees and upper back. He leaned into the chest next to him and the steady heartbeat lulled him further into his daze.
After a brief moment, Jinchul felt himself jostle slightly as the arms placed him into an upright seat. The dining chair, Jinchul vaguely recalled. His eyes fluttered open and he watched in a detached curiosity as Jinwoo’s hand guided his own around a large spoon. The two hands slowly scooped rice and brought it to his lips. Jinchul obediently ate the food from the spoon, and let his hand be guided back down again.
It proceeded like that for some time, Jinwoo carefully presenting him with the food, his grasp carefully guiding Jinchul’s own hand, and Jinchul eating it from the spoon, still comfortably submerged in the fog of Jinwoo’s mana. The meal itself was nothing particular, but had the pleasantly rough flavor of home cooked food. The warmth only added to his light stupor.
Hmm. He kind of wanted water.
Jinchul tugged lightly on his mana and let it flare just the smallest amount, clearing a small space in his thoughts. He blinked and the dining table sharpened in his sight, arranged with small plates of easy-to-grasp food. Jinwoo’s worried face swam into vision.
“Is everything alright?” he asked. The hunter guided the spoon back onto the table.
Jinchul smiled. “Yes, just wanted some water.”
Jinwoo pushed himself to his feet. “That’s great! Give me one moment.”
Jinchul would deny flushing just a little at the pleased look Jinwoo sent him. The sound of running water in the sink sounded from the kitchen to his right and the man returned moments later, pressing the glass into his hand. Jinwoo curled his free hand around Jinchul’s limp wrist and helped him raise it to his lips.
When he had finished, the glass was plucked out of his hands and placed back onto the table. Jinchul let his arm fall back to the side, unable to keep it raised by himself.
He watched as Jinwoo dropped to his eye level next to the dining chair. “Anything else I can get for you?”
Jinchul shook his head. “I’m good for now.”
Jinwoo smiled with a fond, bright gaze that made the mana swirling around them curl in lazy movements. “Alright. Just let me know, or flare your mana if that ever changes.”
Jinchul hummed, his eyelids already drooping. Absently, he pulled back his slightly active mana and let it settle in his core, welcoming the peaceful rush of warmth from the hand that brushed his temple. With a small sigh, he settled back into the dining chair.
He felt a hand guide his fingers back to the spoon, presenting him with another bite, and the pair easily fell into the routine from before. The repetition soothed something in Jinchul’s mind, and he found himself relaxing entirely into the motion.
Jinchul was no longer entirely certain what he was tasting, though it was all wonderful. To be honest, he wasn’t quite sure what taste was anymore. He wasn’t sure he particularly minded. A comforting weight and presence prevented his thoughts from swirling. Low murmurs brushed up against his hearing. Jinchul could vaguely make out words like rest and bed, and the rest washed away. It was alright; everything was good.
Once more, Jinchul felt the warmth of arms carefully sliding themselves behind his knees and back into a carry, and his limp body rolled up against the slow, languid heartbeat once more.
Thump. Thump.
Unconsciously, Jinchul’s breathing slowed and deepened with each beat.
He felt something soft against his back, and he sank into the mattress. A soft cloud—a blanket, he recalled with some effort—was tucked above his shoulders.
A hand gently brushed the hair on his forehead aside, and the world spun dizzyingly at the touch. He let out a small sigh.
Jinchul slipped into a deep slumber.
Sung Jinwoo watched as the Association Chief’s breathing slowed to an even crawl, and the small dazed smile that was a near constant fixture over the past evening comfortably slipped off of his face.
“Goodnight, Jinchul.”
The whisper sounded in the silent room as Jinwoo quietly clicked the door shut behind him.
He would send a text to President Go to let Jinchul rest in the morning. Maybe even take a day off. Others would be able to catch up on the paperwork that Jinchul was missing for the time being.
There was no rush.
Jinchul drifted slowly back into being. First came the sensation of the soft surface behind his back, then awareness slowly grew until Jinchul blinked bleary eyes open to the soft light of late morning behind the blinds. His head was fuzzy and warm. He let his head fall to the side, staring blankly for a moment at the clock.
The alarm didn’t sound.
Before he could panic, memories of the previous day slowly trickled in, the evening spent in a daze, and Sung Jinwoo.
That guy probably did something with the alarm, and the Association. Jinchul huffed. I guess he finally got to cash in the S-ranker privileges for a day off.
Sure enough, when he flipped up his phone and blinked away the unfocused haze, he could see a text from President Go front and center on his phone.
Apparently, Hunter Sung had stormed into the Association office and strong armed all the administrators into giving Jinchul a paid day off. The absolute idiot.
Jinchul could feel the amusement practically bleeding from the President’s text.
He sighed. Jinchul closed his eyes and easily connected to his mana core, flaring it and chasing the last vestiges of sleep from his head. With a clear mind, Jinchul noted that he was still in yesterday’s clothes.
Jinwoo has a surprisingly thoughtful side, huh?
He swung his legs off the bed and went to see what’s for breakfast.
The warmth and ease in his chest lingered long after.