Chapter Text
Love magic is a scam.
At least that's what young apprentice Jeon Jeongguk believes as he enters Dalbit Bazaar, one of the busiest and most vibrant magical markets in the city of Aurelyn.
He’s been here countless times, but today, everything looks different, a little too... cloying. Why? Because tomorrow marks the beginning of Lovers' Week, and the place is dressed for the occasion.
Enchanted roses float in the air, their petals shifting colors as couples pass beneath them, urging them to kiss. Vendors with stalls full of potions and charms call out promises of eternal love, magnetic attraction, and guaranteed passion in a bottle.
Sigh.
Jeongguk flinches at the scene, playing with the strap of his satchel to distract himself. The festive chaos is too much for his liking.
Love magic is everywhere, as if the whole district is drunk on it. To him, it’s nonsense. A big scam. Love should happen naturally, not conjured up in a cauldron or sealed inside a potion vial.
His mentor, Wizard Kim Namjoon, always says, "Magic can’t create something that doesn’t exist."
Jeongguk agrees. And yet, here he is, one day before Lovers' Week, of all times, delivering an ancient grimoire to none other than the so-called "Heartbinder," a wizard specializing in, you guessed it, love magic.
Sigh. Again.
Jeongguk ducks around a group of witches haggling over heart-shaped crystals before he passes by a foreign vendor selling delicious delights from Solara, one of their neighbors in the west. He wants one of those dumplings so badly but he can't be late.
You see, Jeongguk is curious. He's never met this “Heartbinder” before. However, his reputation precedes him and if the rumors are true, that wizard is a genius. Probably eccentric. Maybe a little unhinged. Jeongguk sighs. Great.
As he weaves through the crowd, his thoughts wander.
Love.
He’s never been in love. Never even come close. Not because he doesn’t want to. He’s curious about the feeling, the pull that everyone seems so desperate to capture. But it’s never happened for him, and he’s fine with that.
Mostly. Maybe.
Instead of chasing butterflies, he devoted himself to studying magic under one of Astraea’s most brilliant wizards. He enjoys learning, but what he loves most is running errands for Namjoon. It’s the one part of his apprenticeship that feels like freedom: wandering the market, meeting all kinds of people, seeing magic in action.
Namjoon says Jeongguk has a natural talent that most apprentices don’t.
"It’s in your instincts," he told him once, handing him a stack of ancient scrolls to organize. "You don’t overthink it. Magic flows through you like it’s always been there."
Jeongguk doesn’t know about that, but he’s good at practical spells. Charms, levitation, minor warding... things that make life easier.
He’s not great at theory, though, which drives Namjoon crazy, but Jeongguk figures he doesn’t need to understand every magical law to make things work.
He likes the hands-on part of magic: the feel of energy sparking at his fingertips, the way a well-cast spell vibrates through his body like a second heartbeat.
Jeongguk is talented. Maybe the most talented apprentice Kim Namjoon has ever had in his 40 years as a mentor.
Now, turning a corner, the young one finally spots an old two-story structure at the end of the cobbled street.
Ah, there you are, he chants in his thoughts as he walks faster towards the ancient-looking building that looks like it might crumble if the wind blows the wrong way.
The sign at the front is half-hidden by creeping ivy with heart-shaped leaves curling along the stone walls. Still, he can see the words on it:
The Velvet Cauldron:
Love Potions, Charms & More.
What kind of name is that, Jeongguk thinks as he reaches the handle. He hesitates just for a moment, glancing at his satchel.
He’s delivered plenty of things for Namjoon before, but this feels different. Strangely, the old grimoire seems to pulse inside the bag, as if it knows its destination.
"It’s just a book," Jeongguk mutters, rolling his shoulders. "Just another delivery. Then I can enjoy my weekend."
Finally, he takes a breath and takes a step forth, pushing thoughts of love magic, Lovers' Week, and his own empty heart out of his mind.
.
.
.
The scent of burning cinnamon, old parchment and lavender greets him the moment he steps inside.
The room is dimly lit for dramatic effect perhaps, he notices at once, save for the fireplace on the far wall, where flames twist and dance in shades of red and gold like tiny spirits.
His eyes can't help but roam, taking in the peculiar decór. The furniture looks mismatched, like it was collected from various points in history—a tufted armchair that might’ve been stolen from a Velorian parlor sits next to a low, lacquered table with flower carvings.
Above the fireplace hangs a massive mirror framed in gilded ivy. The surface is foggy, as if it holds secrets he’s not meant to see.
Old books are stacked on every available surface, and jars filled with odd ingredients, dried petals, colorful powders, what looks like tiny, beating hearts suspended in liquid, line the shelves.
And behind the counter, perched on a chaise that looks like it belongs in an opera house, is the Heartbinder himself.
Jeongguk’s breath catches for a second before he remembers how to inhale. The man—wizard, he corrects himself—is nothing like he imagined.
He’s young, or at least looks young, with luscious wavy blonde hair that barely touches his shoulders and sun-kissed, luminous skin that seems to glow in the firelight.
But that's not all that makes him stand out.
The absurdly elegant blue and pink coat he has, slightly oversized and draped over his shoulders, is embroidered with tiny crystals. His shirt is open, to Jeongguk's surprise, just enough to reveal part of his chest where a green pendant rests against the skin. His long fingers, adorned with several rings, play with the edge of a book.
“Ah,” the man finally speaks and his lips form a ridiculously beautiful smirk the moment he looks up. His voice is smooth, rich, almost musical. “You must be the delivery boy.”
The what?
Jeongguk blinks. “I’m Jeongguk. Wizard Kim Namjoon's apprentice,” he corrects him with a pout. “You must be the Heartbinder.”
“The one and only.”
The man rises gracefully, allowing Jeongguk to catch a glimpse of his black high-waist pants. They hug his long legs just right before he realizes, with some irritation, that he’s taller than him.
Great. Again. As if the dramatic coat and obnoxious jewelry weren’t enough.
“I brought the grimoire you requested,” he finally says, holding up the satchel.
“Yes, I can see that.” The wizard, though, doesn’t ask for it. Instead, he takes a moment to study him, allowing Jeongguk to catch a glimpse of green teardrop earrings dangling from his ears. “You’re not what I expected.”
Jeongguk folds his arms on his chest as he replies, “And what were you expecting?”
“Someone more… serious.” The Heartbinder waves a hand vaguely. “Someone who doesn’t look like they’d rather be anywhere else.”
“Well, I’m here, aren’t I?” Jeongguk mutters, finally pulling the grimoire out of the satchel and setting it on the counter with a thud. “My errand has been completed.”
The blonde wizard glides over, running his fingers across the book’s cover like it’s a lover’s face. “You handle ancient magic like it’s a bag of potatoes,” he says with a mock pout. “Charming.”
Jeongguk's pout, though, is very real. “It’s a book. It’s not going to break.”
“Hmm.” The wizard opens the grimoire, his eyes scanning the old pages covered in spells, runes, and sketches. Then, after a moment, he observes, “You think love magic is frivolous, don’t you?”
Jeongguk snorts. “I think it’s dangerous. And messy. And unnecessary. If people want love, they should find it on their own, not brew it up in a cauldron.”
The Heartbinder’s head snaps up, his smirk now turning into a mesmerizing grin that catches Jeongguk off guard.
“Oh, you’re one of those.”
“One of what?”
“A cynic.” He straightens, holding the grimoire under one arm as he gestures dramatically with the other. “So convinced that love is this pure, untouchable thing that can’t possibly be aided by a little magic. How… quaint.”
Jeongguk narrows his eyes. “I’m not a cynic. I just think it’s ridiculous to force something that’s supposed to happen naturally.”
“Force?” He asks, looking genuinely offended. “I don’t force anything. I simply… enhance.” The wizard steps closer, and Jeongguk notices for the first time that his eyes are two different colors—one deep brown, the other a striking gold. “Wait a moment…” He narrows his eyes as he stares at the young apprentice. “You’ve never been in love.”
Jeongguk flushes, his mouth opening to retort before he snaps it shut.
“Oh, I’m right, aren’t I?” The blonde leans against the counter. “That’s why you’re so bitter. Love is this abstract thing you’ve read about, heard about, but never felt. And so you dismiss it. You convince yourself it’s overrated.”
“Or maybe,” Jeongguk shoots back, “I just don’t need a spell to make someone like me.”
The Heartbinder's grin widens. “And yet here you are, little mivren, delivering a book full of love spells and rituals to me a day before Lovers' Week. Ironic, isn't it?”
“Merlin's beard! I'm just running an errand for my Mentor!” Jeongguk snaps, exasperated. His brows furrow as he processes the unfamiliar word. “And what’s a... mirven?”
“Miv-ren not mir-ven.” The blonde wizard’s smile turns softer, though his tone remains playful. “It's a little mouse in the common tongue,” he says before his voice drops an octave. “Quick, clever, and always scurrying around like they have something to prove.”
“I do not scurry!” Jeongguk glares at him now. Oh, he doesn't like him at all.
When Jeongguk doesn't continue, the wizard laughs again and the genuine, rich sound catches the young apprentice off guard.
“Oh, I like you,” he declares. “Most people come here begging for a love spell or a charm, but you—” He gestures at Jeongguk. “You walk in here full of cynicism and righteous indignation. It’s quite refreshing.”
The young apprentice narrows his eyes and without any filter he retorts, “So you’re as obnoxious as the rumors claim. Great.”
“Well, if that’s what the rumors say, little mivren, I shouldn’t disappoint them,” the wizard replies smoothly, turning toward the fireplace. He looks like a giant crystal ball, Jeongguk thinks with an eye roll. “Now, let’s see… There’s a ritual in here I’ve been dying to try. The Lover’s Bond. Ever heard of it?”
Jeongguk frowns, leaning back slightly. “Isn’t that just a myth?”
The wizard turns to face him fully, and for a moment, Jeongguk forgets how to breathe. His mismatched eyes gleam, the golden one looking more dangerous than the brown one.
Damn… why are all the pretty wizards always eccentric?
“Most great things start as myths,” he says. “Shall we test it? I could use an assistant, since my familiar decided to take time off.”
Jeongguk blinks. “Your familiar… took time off? How does that even work?”
The wizard sighs dramatically. “Jiminie is a stubborn little ginger cat who thinks he runs the place. He'll be back by the end of Lovers' Week.”
“A cat?” Jeongguk repeats, unable to stop the grin that creeps onto his face. “Let me guess, he’s as dramatic as you?”
The wizard gasps, placing a hand over his chest as though truly offended. “Excuse you, mivren. I am not dramatic. I am Wizard Kim Taehyung, Potioneer and owner of the Velvet Cauldron. There’s a difference.”
“That’s not an answer.”
“It is if you say it with enough flair.” The wizard, Taehyung, laughs out loud, flipping the grimoire open once more and muttering something to himself. “Now, what do you say? Give me a hand and I'll make it worth your while.”
Jeongguk snorts. “I don’t need your love potions or whatever silly trinkets you’re selling.”
“Oh, I can tell,” Taehyung replies, gesturing vaguely toward Jeongguk’s apprentice cloak. “Your charming personality makes that abundantly clear, mivren. But not everything I create is for romance. Look around. There’s plenty here for a wizard-in-training, especially one who needs to pass his Wizard Qualification exam in, what, seven months from now?”
Jeongguk's eyes narrow again. “How do you know about that?”
Taehyung waves a dismissive hand. “It’s written all over you. That serious face, the stress practically oozing out of you… You’re an apprentice trying to prove yourself. Am I wrong?”
Jeongguk glares but doesn’t respond, instead he takes a look around the room. His eyes catch on a polished crystal orb whose surface swirls with purple mist. Nearby, there's a small jar labeled ‘Cleansing Salts’, and next to it, a dagger with a hilt wrapped in red thread awaiting a brave wielder.
He lets out a slow breath. Unfortunately for him, his curiosity is piqued despite himself.
“What exactly are you offering?”
“Anything you can find in this shop,” Taehyung says, gesturing grandly. “Something to sharpen your skills, boost your magic, or maybe… help you with that little confidence problem.”
“Merlin's— I don’t have a confidence problem,” Jeongguk says through gritted teeth.
Who the hell does he think he is? They don't even know each other and he's acting like they're… friends or something.
Finally, Taehyung raises an eyebrow, clearly unconvinced, but doesn’t press further. Instead, he picks up a glowing vial from a nearby shelf and sets it on the table. “Let’s just say, help me with this ritual, and I’ll let you pick something you actually need. No strings attached. No hidden fees.”
Jeongguk glances back at the shelves, his gaze now lingering on a thick, leather-bound book titled ‘Runic Enhancements for the Advanced Wizard’. His lips press into a thin line. That thing costs a fortune and Jeongguk is short of coin right now. So maybe it's a good deal after all.
“Fine,” he mutters, stepping closer to the fire. “But if this goes wrong, it’s on you.”
“Oh, don’t worry, mivren,” Taehyung replies, brushing dust off the glowing vial. “I know exactly what I'm doing. ”
Jeongguk sighs. This is practically routine for him. So, what's the worst thing that can happen?
.
.
.
The old shop comes to life as Wizard Kim Taehyung begins preparing the ritual as if he's on a grand stage or something.
Jeongguk watches him moving around like a showman, flicking his wrist to summon exactly what he needs.
A gold-threaded cloth floats down onto the table, decorated with different runes that glow faintly in the firelight. Jars of crushed gemstones and vials of swirling liquids line up neatly, and a ball of golden thread lands in front of him like an obedient pet.
“You always like this?” Jeongguk mutters, watching his little performance.
“Only when someone’s watching,” the wizard replies with a smirk, tossing a jar his way. “Now catch and pay attention, mivren,” he says, rolling the word around his tongue like he’s savoring it. “You might learn something tonight.”
Jeongguk doesn’t bother hiding his eye roll as he catches the jar. “I’m paying attention. You just… do things so dramatically.”
“Well, magic is drama,” Taehyung replies smoothly, stepping around the table to Jeongguk’s side. His voice is a little softer now as he places a hand on the grimoire. “Every spell, every ritual, every charm.... it’s a performance. The way you cast it, the intention you pour into it, that’s what makes magic work. I'm sure Namjoon has already taught you that, no?”
Jeongguk wants to argue, but he doesn’t. There’s something in Taehyung’s voice, something oddly familiar, that makes him pause. He watches as the wizard traces the grimoire, his long fingers brushing the embossed symbols like they’re sacred.
“This ritual…” Taehyung begins, his gaze fixed on the book. “It hasn’t been cast in centuries. Do you know why?”
Jeongguk shakes his head. “Enlighten me.”
“Because it’s not just magic. It’s belief,” Taehyung says, his voice growing distant. “A bond like this… it requires faith. Trust. And not just in the other person. In yourself.” He looks up, his mismatched eyes meeting the apprentice's. “Do you trust yourself… Jeongguk?”
The young wizard-in-training blinks, startled by the question. “I... what does that have to do with this?”
Taehyung smiles almost wistfully and turns back to the table. “Nothing. Let's get started," he murmurs as they finally work to put the ritual together piece by piece.
An hour later they're still at it and Jeongguk prays it's worth his precious time.
“Careful with that,” Taehyung chides as he nearly spills a vial of liquid light. “This isn’t some kindergarten charm; it’s ancient magic. Respect it, mivren.”
Jeongguk pouts at the nickname he gave him despite his will, but adjusts his grip, muttering, “You don’t have to hover over me, you know.”
“I’m not hovering,” Taehyung retorts with another ridiculous smirk. “I’m mentoring. There’s a difference.”
Whatever, Jeongguk thinks, trying not to pay much attention to him. Yet moments later, when they’re almost ready to begin the ritual, he notices the shift.
The wizard's theatrics fade, replaced by something more reflective as he stares at the tablecloth. It catches Jeongguk off guard.
“What are these?” he asks hesitantly.
Taehyung doesn’t answer immediately. His fingers hover over one of the glowing runes etched into the fabric. “Protection runes,” he finally says, his voice softer than Jeongguk expected. “To safeguard the spell and the casters. Magic like this… it can be quite unpredictable and overwhelming.”
Why does he look like a sad puppy now?
“Has it ever…” Jeongguk dares to ask, more cautious now, “overwhelmed you?”
“Once.” The laugh that escapes Taehyung is quiet, almost bitter. “Happens to the best of us.”
Jeongguk waits, sensing that there’s more. He’s not sure why, but the silence feels a little heavier now. So this man has… layers.
Taehyung sighs, his gaze drifting to the mirror above the fireplace just for a moment. The glow from the runes illuminate the side of his face making him look… fragile, as though something inside him is cracking.
“You may think that I just want to make a profit out of love. But... I know the stakes because I was in love once,” Taehyung says, catching Jeongguk off guard once more. He doesn't know why he's telling him this but he listens, expecting a clever twist. “Hopelessly. Foolishly. It was everything they say love is: blinding, consuming. And then, it ended.”
When the wizard finishes his sentence, Jeongguk doesn't know how to react. Curiosity gets a hold of him, murmuring, “What happened?” though he remains on guard.
Taehyung opens his shirt just a little more to reveal a faintly glowing sigil over his heart. It’s shaped like an intricate broken heart, the edges jagged, as if it’s still trying to heal.
“I cast a spell,” he says quietly but there's something in his voice, a strange quality that makes Jeongguk wonder if that's the truth jjn. “To keep my heart broken. A reminder of what love cost me. Of what I couldn’t have.”
Jeongguk blinks, his eyes traveling between the sigil and Taehyung’s face. He doesn’t know what to say, doesn’t even know if he’s supposed to say anything at all.
Why is he telling him all this?
Taehyung exhales softly, letting the fabric cover the mark, noticing how Jeongguk seems eager to touch it.
“You’re probably wondering why I’m telling you this,” he says, as if reading Jeongguk’s mind. “Honestly, I don’t know. Maybe because this ritual… it’s the first time in a long time I’ve let myself hope. Maybe because you remind me of what I used to be. Someone who hadn’t yet learned what it’s like to lose something you’d give everything to keep.”
Jeongguk swallows hard. “So… why are you doing this now? Casting the ritual?”
“Because even after everything, mivren, I still believe in it. In love. In connection. It’s not about me anymore. It’s about helping others find what I lost.” He glances at Jeongguk and his mismatched eyes seem a little warmer now. “Also, I never cast a spell on someone before testing it on myself. But it's worth the risk because there’s something beautiful about seeing others connect, don’t you think?”
“I… guess?” Jeongguk murmurs, extremely confused. He sneaks a glance at Taehyung who now chuckles and turns back to the table, resuming his little performance.
“You’re such a romantic at heart, mivren. It’s adorable.” The vulnerability from a moment ago is lost, like sand slipping through your fingers, but it lingers, just enough to make Jeongguk wonder.
“I am not—”
“Hush now. We are ready to begin. I need you to stay out of the circle.”
Jeongguk pouts instantly. Is this man crazy or heartbroken? Or both? The answer is clear, he thinks.
A few moments later, the ritual finally begins. The room changes as Taehyung says the incantation, flooding the place with raw magical energy that makes their skin tingle.
His hair shifts just a little as the fireplace flares brighter, its flames licking higher as golden threads unravel from the ball. They spiral upward, twisting and intertwining into a single string.
Jeongguk watches from outside the circle Taehyung had drawn around the table, wide-eyed. The wizard’s ringed fingers guide the threads into place. He's breathtaking. Like he was born to perform such spells. Jeongguk can't quite explain it.
“Join me,” the wizard then tells him and Jeongguk nods, his hands trembling slightly as he mimics Taehyung’s movements. Together, they weave the threads, their magic merging in a way that feels oddly… natural.
"Perfect! You aren't that bad, mivren," Taehyung exclaims and when the final incantation is spoken, the spell erupts in a brilliant flash of light.
Jeongguk shields his eyes, feeling like magic has somehow washed over him, making him feel a strange warmth in his chest. It’s almost like… first love. Like fresh snow in April or fluffy marshmallows melting on your tongue.
However, when the light fades, he sees it—a shimmering golden string, thin but unbreakable, connecting him to… Taehyung?
“This… has to be a mistake,” Jeongguk stammers, shaken to his core.
Taehyung blinks before he examines the string wrapped around their wrists. “Interesting…” he murmurs, almost to himself.
Jeongguk swallows hard. “W-what’s interesting?”
“This shouldn't be possible,” Taehyung says quietly, lifting his wrist to inspect it. The string burns brighter between them, and in the silence that follows, Jeongguk’s thoughts spiral.
This is bad. No, this is worse than bad. How could this loud, dramatic, flamboyant man possibly be... his soulmate?
No, no, no. This has to be a mistake. A fluke. A magical mishap. There’s no way this is real. The wizard must have messed it up big time. Jeongguk wasn't even the target of the ritual. He wasn't even in the circle.
“This is probably nothing. Let's fix this, shall we?” Taehyung then says confidently and Jeongguk prays he does.
Because what the hell?