Man on Fire

by HaruNaru

Summary:

Hongjoong has always done whatever it takes to keep his family alive, even if it means picking the pockets of the rich to survive another day. But when a deadly curse and the looming threat of war put his family in even greater danger, Hongjoong is forced to take a desperate risk. His only hope lies in the infamous Wizard Hwa and his mysterious moving castle—along with its cursed crew.

Trusting Hwa might save his family… or destroy him. It's a dangerous game, but Hongjoong doesn't know any other game to play.

( or I made an Ateez x Howl's Moving Castle AU that we all needed in our lives)

Notes:

Hey guys I'm really excited to post this. I saw a picture of Seonghwa as Howl's from Howl's Moving Castle and knew what needed to be done. The story of course will be different from the movie but have some traits and some scenes you might recognize. So with that let's get started!

Chapter 1: Scoundrels with Deft Hands

💫

 

Hongjoong regarded the pompous lady in front of him with a mix of disdain and amusement. Neat hair and intricate braids tied back into a tight bun. Powdered face so pale with make-up she resembled the donuts in the shop Hongjoong passed by in the mornings. The dress she wore was an ostentatious cascade of layers upon layers of extensive fabric and petticoats of the highest quality fanning out at her waist.

She observed him coyly from behind her silk fan with a flutter of her eyes and pink blush spreading on the apples of her cheeks. 

Or was that make-up as well?

It didn't matter. 

All he could think was how easy this was going to be. 

He refocused on the conversation at hand, head tilted slightly to the side.“My lady, I wouldn't lie to one as yourself. What would I gain from it other than a sweet smile on your exquisite face?” 

“Sophie. My name is Sophie.”

Hongjoong raised a brow questionably, trying to hide the subtle twitch underneath. 

Her name was not Sophie. These inscrutable rich people tried to adapt the names of the west to make themselves seem as if they were above the riffraff that trailed the streets. Hongjoong had long since given up trying to understand the whims of the wealthy.

She probably had a common name such as Ha-na or Jiwoo. 

Hongjoong gently took her hand in his leather-gloved one, bringing it up to his lips and pressed a gentle kiss on her skin. Her hand was soft to the touch, absent of calluses and scars that marked the lives of those who toiled away.

He doubted she had ever lifted a finger a day in her life. Raised with servants at her beck and call for anything she so wished. 

As he lowered her hand he gazed at her from below the veil of his lashes. The barmaids at the tavern he frequented often teased him about his unusually long lashes, saying they were wasted on a boy. Hongjoong, however, had learned to wield them to his advantage, especially when he wanted something.

“Lady Sophie,” he corrected, her name coming out like a purr. “Do you think I would be so crass as to lie?” 

With a flick of her wrist she snapped her fan closed, as if it was a party trick she performed in front of others millions of times before.“Well what do you expect me to believe when you say you've had dinner with the King. Not many have been honored to have dinner with him. I've heard he's a recluse that doesn't like the company of others since his son, the prince, has disappeared.”

That wasn't any new news. Everyone in this city and the neighboring ones had knowledge of what had transpired.

A few months ago the inhabitants inside the castle woke up to the disappearance of the only born heir. No sign of forced entry. No sign of blood. No traces left behind. Not even a hair. 

It was like he had vanished into thin air.

The King was still mourning the loss of his son and had the kingdom in an uproar trying to find him. Soldiers were stationed throughout the kingdom, combing every nook and cranny for clues. Tensions were boiling over, with the kingdom on the cusp of war against the neighboring land, driven by the King’s belief that they had abducted his son with the aid of the Wicked Witch of the Waste.

And everyone knew how much she despised the King. She would do anything to get under his skin.

Hongjoong hummed, playing with the fingers of the lady's between his own. He watched as a gaggle of children still dressed in their school uniforms rambled pass in hopes of buying snacks on the way home. 

“Yes, the poor prince. You see, he and I…were close friends. Attended the same boarding school and archery lessons since we were teens. I would be personally invited during holidays when I couldn't return to my own home country.The King– he invites me over every once in a blue moon to talk about his son. We both miss him so.” He infused a somber lit into his words. Not too much. Enough to mimic the emotions of one who had lost such a close friend. The lie was a farce he had carefully crafted and perfected. 

Over years spent wandering the streets with his ears always open and his eyes cast downward, he listened intently to the chatter of giggling ladies and the boasts of drunken men, piecing together the information he needed to deceive whoever stood in his way.

It wasn't hard when faced with naive people who were unaware of what Hongjoong had in store for them.

In truth, he had never seen hide nor hair of the prince, let alone knew what the fellow looked like. The King had always kept him locked away behind the castle's four walls.

“Ah, I see a friend of the prince. I hope they find him soon. For the sake of the kingdom.” 

“For the sake of the kingdom.” Hongjoong echoed the saying with a stiff nod, his lips tightening into a strained grimace.

“I thought I detected an accent in your words,” she said, eyes a bit wider, sparkling with interest. “That also explains the red hair. I’ve never seen anything quite like it. You’re from abroad, then?”

“Why yes,” he replied smoothly, offering a dismissive wave of his hand. “Not too far from here. A small country, just a few weeks journey by ship. You’ve probably never heard of it.”

He had memorized the maps of the surrounding regions, enough to conjure a convincing origin at a moment's notice. It was a skill honed over time, quick, seamless, and unassailable. Perfecting the accents of each place had taken a bit longer, but now, switching between them was as effortless as turning the page of a book.

“Would you tell me more about where you hail from? I would be delighted to know more about you, kind sir. Oh, how rude of me. I haven’t even asked your name.” She twirled a loose strand of hair from her bun around her finger, her tone as coy as her smile.

Hongjoong smirked, releasing her hand with deliberate grace. He dipped into a deep bow, one he had seen Yunho perform countless times while patrolling the city and encountering nobility.

“The name’s Chris,” he said smoothly, his smirk deepening.

Just then a man clad in servant's attire rushed forward in a huff. “Lady Sophie! I specifically asked you to stay at the stall until I was done talking with the merchant. Do you know how long I've been searching for you in this god forsaken crowd.” 

Sophie puffed her cheeks like a petulant child crossing her arms over her chest. “You make a big deal out of nothing. I was just conversing with this fine gentlem–” 

“Chris?” 

He heard Lady Sophie call for him, voice raising to be heard over the crowd.But he was already halfway across the square, slipping and weaving through the barrage of bodies like a fish in water. 

Once he was far enough he tucked himself into the shadows of a narrow side street avoiding any onlookers. Reaching into the hidden cloth pouch tucked into his waistband, he pulled out a gleaming, jewel-encrusted ring, its brilliance catching what little light filtered into the alley.

Rich people were so easy to fool. 

Hongjoong chuckled to himself, crouching down against the brick wall at his back as he pulled out the rest of his loot to inspect. 

A silver watch that was engraved on the underside, a tweed pouch that was a little smaller than his own with a few gold pieces still inside, a wallet with that held only a paper ID inside( he would throw this out- no need for it), and a strip of dried jerky. He smirked at the last item, deciding it was a fair find, given he’d been feeling a bit peckish, and the food stall had been on his way.

Taking a bite of the jerky, he poked at the engraving on the watch, squinting as he tried to decipher the intricate carvings on the case back.

“I knew I would find you here.” 

The silver watch was snatched from Hongjoong’s hand by the figure looming over him. Yunho turned it over, inspecting it from every angle with a critical eye.

“Well I wasn't specifically hiding from you now was I,” Hongjoong scoffed, gathering up the rest of the stolen goods and depositing them back into his pouch. “What are you doing here? I thought you were on shift until sunset.That’s in about–” 

Hongjoong reached out and snatched the watch back out of Yunhos's hands. “ —four more hours. Aren't you scared of getting in trouble with your superiors?” He placed the watch into the pouch and tied it closed, hooking it back on the hidden loop on the inside of his waistband once again. 

Yunho sighed, fixing Hongjoong with that expression he reserved exclusively for him. The one that screamed he was utterly exhausted with his bullshit.

“I'm still on duty. We were dispatched because a lady reported a theft in the square. She provided a highly detailed description of the culprit: a man named Chris, short in stature, bright red hair, brown eyes, and, I quote, ‘a smile that could rival a thieving fox.’” Yunho arched a brow, glaring down at him in judgment.

Hongjoong bristled, tearing a piece of jerky between his teeth. “I am not short. I was taller than her!”

“I told you not to dye your hair red! It's a dead giveaway! Might as well hang a sign around your neck that says, ‘Look at me! I’m your prime suspect!’” Yunho exclaimed, throwing his hands up in frustration. 

“Don’t worry. I’ll just dye it blue or something. Problem solved,” Hongjoong said with a shrug, nonchalant as ever.

Yunho’s eyes narrowed. “And out of all the names you could’ve chosen, you went with Chris? That’s literally my boss’s name.”

Hongjoong smirked, his voice dripping with defiance. “I hate Chris. So, screw him.” 

Yunho's boss was always looking for evidence to put Hongjoong behind bars. Too bad for him Hongjoong never left any evidence behind, so he couldn't pen anything on him. 

“Hongjoong that's not the point. You’re jeopardizing my job and we need the extra income to stay afloat.” 

Hongjoong felt something in his jaw tick from how hard he was grinding his teeth together. “And what do you think I'm doing, huh? Pickpocketing just for the hell of it? While you signed up to be one of the King's sniveling dogs I'm out here making real money for the family.”

He stood, stepping closer to Yunho and meeting his glare head-on. “Hate to break it to you Yunho but we can't get by with your small little stipend anymore.Yechan is getting picked on at school because his shoes are falling apart and Areum needs to go to the doctor for her cough. It's getting worse and we are out of medicine.” 

Yunho’s face darkened, his neck flushing an angry red as his fists clenched at his sides. Hongjoong hated the way Yunho towered over him, a reminder of just how much taller he’d grown in the years they’d spent together.

But Hongjoong didn’t back down. His glare only hardened, daring Yunho to say something—anything—to prove him wrong.

Yunho sucked in a breath, air inflating his chest and then exhaled, deflating like a balloon. The fight left him just as quickly as it came. Yunho was never good at holding onto his anger. Not like Hongjoong was. He could brew for a couple of days.

“I'm doing the best I can Hongjoong. You can't be upset that I've chosen to make an honest living.” 

Hongjoong held his glare for a couple of more seconds before his eyes softened. “ I didn't mean it. He rubbed a gloved hand over his face, sighing heavily. “ I am proud of you Yunho. I– one of us has to make it out of these streets.” 

Hongjoong gazed at Yunho, clad in his beige military police uniform. The outfit had been custom-made for him, a perfect fit because he was one of the tallest on the force, and they didn’t have any spare uniforms that would suit his tree-like frame.

It fit him well.

He had worked his ass off to make it on the force. Hongjoong still remembered the night Yunho had burst through the door of the room they shared, practically throwing the paper right in his face.

“I made it. I did it hyung! Now we don't have to worry about our next meal!” 

Hongjoong had known how hard Yunho had worked to escape their life of petty thefts. Nights they spent stealing from pockets, swiftly in and out of purses, grabbing whatever they could to survive. Yunho had always hated the constant anxiety of looking over their shoulders, expecting to get caught at any moment.

“If you look suspicious they will think you're suspicious so keep your head forward and act as if you aren't up to no good.” Hongjoong had told him.

It worked for a while. Yunho’s job gave them the push they needed to afford what they lacked. Then the King announced a raise in taxes. So, Hongjoong was forced to steal more, risk more, all while avoiding the military officers flooding the streets at every corner. 

Yunho had never been able to walk the streets like Hongjoong had and that was…okay. 

He would get his hands dirty so Yunho's would stay clean. 

“I know hyung.” Yunho smiled, tone softening. 

Yunho lifted his arm pulling back the sleeve of his jacket to reveal a small metal band around his wrist.

“Don't go straight to the pawn shop. Take the long way around. The path towards the northern gate should be fine.” He clicked the green disc embedded inside and with a whirring a holographic display of a man sitting at a desk came to life in front of him.

Hongjoong backed up against the wall instinctively placing a hand over his mouth to keep himself quiet. 

Yunho straightened, saluting sharply as he addressed the man. “Military officer 0323 reporting, sir.”

Hongjoong sneered at the projection of Yunho's boss, Chris. The man was only slightly older than them but carried himself with an elitist air, convinced his position as captain of the first-class military police at such a young age made him superior to everyone else.

If you asked Hongjoong, Chris had his head shoved too far up his own ass to deserve the title. He was nothing but a lazy figurehead, delegating all the real work to his subordinates while he sat comfortably behind his desk in Capital, oblivious to everything beyond his office walls.

“Report officer, have you found the culprit?” He didn't even bother glancing up, too busy writing something furiously with his black quill on his desk. “Lady Jiho’s father is breathing down our necks because the necklace is a family heirloom that he would quite like back.”

Ah, so her real name was Jiho. Hongjoong tried to stifle a chuckle against his palm.  

Yunho returned to attention, arms placed neatly behind his back as he continued speaking.“No, sir I have not. The culprit seems to not be near the premises. But I've gotten intel from witnesses saying that they caught sight of a man with red hair making a run for it in the direction of the southern gates. I'll inform the other officers and continue the search in that direction,sir.” 

“Very well. Make it snappy and report back to the office at 18:00 sharp. We're having a meeting about that damn wizard that's been evading us down at the harbor and we don't have time to be searching for measly stolen jewelry.”Chris grunted and then he hung up, projection dissolving into light particles that faded into the alley. 

Yunho sighed, pulling his sleeve back down over the bracelet. “Guess I'll be late to dinner. Tell Aerum I'll make it to read her a story before bed time.” He muttered, adjusting the cap to pull it lower to hide his sandy brown fringe. “Keep your head down and I'll see you for dinner when I get home.” 

Hongjoong pushed off the wall, slipping deeper into the shadows. “Yes, sir. And when you see dear old Chris please tell him that Hongjoong said to shove that damn quill up his as–”

“Goodbye Hyung!” Yunho yelled. 

 

 

💫 

 

 

The jewel-encrusted ring was worth fifteen gold pieces. The watch lost value for the engraving, but Hongjoong was able to haggle with Eden, the owner of the pawn shop. He kind of owed him for acquiring him a very old spell book he wanted to get his hands on for months.

Eden was the only person Hongjoong trusted not to rat him out when he turned up with items that just so happened to be “acquired” through less-than-legal means. Eden would simply turn a blind eye, hand over what Hongjoong was owed, and went about his day.

A strange fellow, Eden kept mostly to himself, spending his time experimenting with spells in the back of the shop, occasionally causing fires Hongjoong had to put out. 

How Eden managed to keep his wizard identity a secret was beyond Hongjoong. But as long as Eden kept his secret, Hongjoong swore to keep his in return. They had an unspoken deal, and that worked just fine for both of them.

In total he walked through the door with enough to feed his family and keep the lights on for another month, with some left over hopefully for Aerums medication. Yechan would have to be a little more patient until Yunho's next paycheck. 

Hongjoong removed his boots at the door and made his way into the kitchen, careful to avoid the lifted floorboard in the living room that he hadn't gotten the chance to repair yet. It would have to be soon before an accident occurred and someone broke a toe. Definitely Yunho. With all of that height, came with clumsiness. 

“Is that you Hongjoong dear?” 

Hongjoong walked into the room, greeted by the smell of boiling stew cooking on the stove and freshly baked bread.

“Yes mother it is I, your eldest and most precious son.” He leaned over his mother's shoulder reaching for a slice of bread, yanking it back quickly to escape the wrath of her wooden spoon. 

“No son of mine would steal food from the kitchen without washing his dirty hands. I don't know where those disgusting gloves have been.” She huffed wiping the spoon on the edge of her apron before dipping it into the stew to spoon it into the awaiting bowls on the counter.

“Well, if you must know, mother, these disgusting gloves were out working their ass–”

“ Language Hongjoong,” she snipped. 

“ Sorry– these disgusting gloves were out working their bums off to pay rent.” He untied the pouch and watched as the round pieces of metal clanked onto the table. 

“Hongjoong…where on earth did you…Have you–” his mother stared at him wide eyed. “Where did you get this money?”

Hongjoong pulled out a chair and sat, rubbing at the spot on his neck where it always ached, right between the knobs of his spine. “ I did some odd jobs for Sir Eden and he paid me graciously for my time.” 

Eden wouldn't mind being his scapegoat he hoped. Mother had thought Hongjoong's theft days were behind him. That he had turned over a new leaf and was doing honest work picking up jobs here and there.

His mother eyed him wearily, then her eyes flicked down towards the coins that rested on the table. “Why so much for an odd job,hmm?” 

Hongjoong tried to suppress rolling his eyes less he wanted another whack of the spoon. “Mother, when do we question what the man does? I just took the payment, thanked him and went on my merry way home. Mother, your dear son worked all day in the grueling heat and I'm starving.” He whined tugging on her apron. 

His mother clucked her tongue at him, mouth trying not to tick up at the sides at his display. 

“And what of your brother Yunho? Shouldn't he be off service soon?”

Hongjoong leaned his head against her hip, arms wrapping around her waist in a loose hug. “He will be home late. He has to report to office before coming home. Let's eat without him. I'll put his bowl to the side.” 

His mother pulled away, leaving Hongjoong to grab on the side of his chair to catch himself from falling. “Fine go grab the kids upstairs and tell them to wash before coming down.” 

Hongjoong obeyed, grumbling up the stairs as he heard his mother's twinkling laughter. 

There were only four bedrooms, all upstairs. One was his mother’s, at the end of the hall. Next to hers was the infants’ room, where Nari also stayed to help care for them when they woke. The room in the middle belonged to Yechan and Aerum, and at the other end of the hall was the shared room for Hongjoong and Yunho.

Hongjoong went to the infants’ room first, making sure to knock on the door quietly so as to not wake any sleeping ones when he entered. Nari was up in the rocking chair cradling a sleeping toddler back and forth. She smiled up at him when he entered the room.

“Good evening Hongjoong. Is dinner perhaps ready?” 

“Yes, mother called for everyone to go downstairs. If you like I can set the monitor on so we can hear if anyone wakes up so you can enjoy your meal.” 

Nari looked over to the two other cradles where the twins lay sleeping soundly. “Would you be so kind?” she whispered.

Hongjoong went to the table quietly taking the radio like device and turned the knob. If the babies were to cry it would signal the paired device they kept downstairs and they would be able to hear the sounds. 

Nari placed the sleeping baby in its crib pulling the blankets up. “I swear if Eden hadn't given you that device I would never get a break. Make sure you thank him for me.” 

Technology was scarce around the outskirts of the country where they lived, with more advanced devices found in the capital. Mostly circulating among the rich. Hongjoong hated seeing them flying around with their airship contraptions shaped like birds. 

It was all powered by magic embedded inside. Most things now were created with magic in mind. 

“Why don't you go tell him yourself? Eden said he's been seeing a strange woman peeping into his windows. Noona, care to explain?” he teased. 

Nari turned a bright shade of pink. “I wasn't peeping like a pervert or anything. I was just curious about the jewels,” she sputtered. 

Hongjoong tried hard to muffle his laughter. Nari's face twisted up and left without so another word. 

He made his way into the next room opening it without knocking. “Come on brats it's time for dinner, go wash up.” He easily dodged a pillow that went flying at his head catching it midair. “That wasn't very nice.” 

“You know what's not nice? Not knocking,” Yechan said, tone sharp. 

“If Yunho and I grew up in this house without privacy, so do you. Fairness for all under this roof,” Hongjoong said, throwing the pillow back on the bed. 

Yechan glared. “I hate this fucking house.” He grumbled storming out past Hongjoong. 

“Language Yechan!” Hongjoong called after him.

Hongjoong missed the days when Yechan used to follow him around, eager to be close and trailing behind his older brother wherever he went. But now, with Yechan entering his teen years, the boy was full of so much anger. It was baffling, really.

“Don't mind him, he's upset because school wasn't so good today,” Aerum said from her spot on her bunk. 

“What happened at school today?” He asked, walking over to grab her small hands in his to walk downstairs together.

“The kids picked on us again. They said we didn’t have ‘real’ parents. They said we weren’t lovable, and that’s why we were abandoned at the foster home with Mother Hyo-jin.”

Hongjoong paused, his hand still on the railing as he stared down at her, his thoughts swirling. He took a breath, trying to keep his emotions in check as a fire curled in his stomach. “Do you believe that?” His voice was calm, but there was an intensity beneath it. “That you're not loveable because you were abandoned?”

Aerum glanced at her hand wrapped around Hongjoong's, swinging lightly between them. “No, I don't care what they say. I'm happy here with everyone. And I know Mother Hyo-jin loves us all. Plus you and Yunho decided to stay even though you both aged out of the system. Nari doesn't have a choice because she belongs to mother, but you guys do. So I know i'm loveable.” 

Sometimes, Hongjoong forgot Aerum was only nine. She was so wise, so understanding for her age. It made him want to protect her from the harshness of the world even more. 

“We all belong to mother and to each other. We're a family.Don't forget that.” 

“Yes brother.” She smiled brightly. 

Hongjoong chuckled, his heart swelling with affection. “My sweet Aerum, when did you get so big?” He scooped her up effortlessly, lifting her off her feet and carried her to the table to sit beside him.

They said grace, and slowly, everyone began to eat. Hongjoong looked around at the faces he’d watched grow over the years. It felt like such a long time ago, but the memories were still vivid. He had been one of the first to arrive at the home, being abandoned right on the doorstep when they first opened the doors. It was just him and Nari, for a few years—before Yunho showed up. Then, one by one, the others trickled in.

They’d been through so much together. Sacrificed so much together. So how could he ever walk away after aging out of the system? He and Yunho had made the decision long ago that this was their family, and they wouldn’t trade them for the world.

 

 

💫

 

 

“I want to hear about Hwa!” Aerum said. 

They were all gathered in Yechan and Aerum's room. Pillows and blankets tossed around on the floor as they waited comfortably for Yunho to tell the bedtime story. 

“Where did you hear about him?” Yunho asked, confused, tearing off a piece of bread he brought upstairs to nibble on after coming straight home from work.

Aerum twisted her nightgown between her fingers guiltily. “One of the boys in my class had claimed that he caught a glimpse of Hwa walking around the harbor, so me and some of the girls snuck off at recess to go watch the boats from the hill. We saw his ship floating above the sea as if it weighed nothing! It was ginormous with metal pieces hanging off and a large tree planted right in the middle that looked like a makeshift crows nest,” she gushed all in one breath. “But tell me, Yunho! Please! Is it true that Hwa is as powerful as they say? That he can bend the winds and control the water?"

Yunho hesitated, glancing over at Nari for guidance. She returned his look with a sharp one of her own before addressing Aerum directly.

“You know you're not supposed to go down to the harbor,” Nari chided, her tone stern. “You need to be more careful, Aerum. The harbor isn’t a place for little girls to wander, especially with all this commotion about Hwa.”

Aerum puckered her lips, eyes casted down to the floor.

Hongjoong cleared his throat, drawing everyone's attention. “I don’t know about what you heard from that little friend of yours,” he began, a mischievous glint in his eye, “but I’ve gathered some very plausible intel from folks down at the tavern. People who’ve claimed to have seen this Hwa fellow with their own eyes.”

A chorus of reactions followed.

Yunho choking on his bread. Aerum squealed in excitement . Nari fussed in exasperation. Meanwhile, Yechan rolled over in bed and pulled a pillow over his face to block out the noise.

Hongjoong swore to himself that he had never been this moody when he was going through puberty.

“Quiet! Quiet! One at a time,” he said, raising a hand to restore order.

Aerum scooted closer, knees touching Hongjoong’s as she waited with bated breath. “ Please tell us brother.” 

Hongjoong tapped his chin thoughtfully. “There are rumors. Whispers floating around the city that his ship is alive. They say he enchanted it so it obeys his commands without him needing to steer it. And yes, it’s said that he can walk on air, floating above buildings like his ship to evade the military police.”

From his left, Yunho scoffed. “What a load of nonsense. The only reason we haven’t caught him is because no one knows what he looks like.”

“My coworker at the hat shop says he’s a handsome gentleman with white wings and the face of an angel that could charm any soul,” Nari interjected, crossing her arms. When everyone stared at her, she huffed. “What? I’m just repeating what I heard. It’s not like I believe it.”

“There are also reports of strange sounds,” Hongjoong added, lowering his voice dramatically.

“Sounds? What kind of sounds?” Aerum asked, moving closer, almost into his lap at this point. 

“The sailors working overnight at the harbor say they hear eerie noises,something monstrous. They describe it as howls of agony coming from the belly of the ship. They claim it’s the cries of Hwa’s victims.”

“Victims?” Nari repeated, her brows furrowed in concern.

“Yes, victims,” Hongjoong confirmed solemnly. “Young men and women he fancies. They say he devours their hearts, leaving them to wail in torment.”

“Alright, that’s enough,” Yunho interrupted, standing and clapping his hands to grab everyone’s attention. “Time for an actual bedtime story. You’re going to give the kids,and Nari,nightmares, hyung.”

Hongjoong chuckled at their wide-eyed, uneasy expressions. “And with that, I shall take my leave.”

He exited the room, grinning as Aerum protested behind him. As he walked down the hallway, he heard her cough faintly, her voice growing quieter.

There would have to be a visit to the doctor in the morning. Surely, they would have some kind of herbal remedy to treat her ailing symptoms. 

Grabbing his pajamas, Hongjoong busied himself with preparing for bed. He climbed up to the top bunk, skipping half the rungs on the ladder before pushing himself the rest of the way up.

Honestly, they had outgrown the beds years ago. Their bodies had grown too broad and too long to fit comfortably on the worn mattresses. Poor Yunho often had to sleep curled into a fetal position just to get a decent night's rest. Neither of them complained though,haven chosen to save their money for the endless stream of bills and unexpected expenses that seemed to plague the household. 

Hongjoong lay back against the thin blankets, lifting his gloved hands toward the ceiling to remove them in the low light streaming from the lantern on the bedside table. 

The leather was worn, stretched, and frayed in places. He flexed his fingers, feeling the stiff material resist slightly. Another visit to Eden’s shop for a replacement would soon be unavoidable. 

“Is everything alright? You look rather pale.” 

Hongjoong swiftly slid the leather gloves back on as Yunho turned to close the door behind him.   

“Must be a trick of the lights. I feel right as rain.” Hongjoong replied, his tone calm and measured. 

Yunho shrugged out of his uniform, folding it with meticulous precision before laying it on the corner of the desk that resided beneath the window. Unlike Hongjoong’s clothing that got thrown about the room without a second glance or care. 

After setting his cap atop the pile, Yunho let out a weary sigh and moved towards his bed, the fatigue of the day evident in his movements.

Hongjoong leaned forward from the top bunk, peering over the edge. His head swam slightly, the dizziness creeping up on him as he watched Yunho settle onto the bunk below.

"You, however, look as though a storm is gathering in your eyes," Hongjoong observed, his voice laced with concern. "What happened? Did dear old Chris call to give you an earful for failing to catch the red-haired, thieving fox?" he teased, attempting to lift the mood.

Yunho frowned deeper, making Hongjoong feel a wave of uneasiness wash over him. He grabbed onto the side rail and with a slight push, he flipped his body backward, swinging until he landed on the bottom bunk beside Yunho. Yunho simply moved out of his path and reached out a hand to steady the guard rail, preventing it from shaking too much from the force.

“I wish you would stop doing that,” Yunho muttered. “This bed is old enough. I live in fear that one night I'll be sleeping, and the top bunk will come crashing down to squish me to death.”

“Hey, this bed has never failed us before, and it won't fail us now.” Hongjoong crossed his socked feet beneath himself and grabbed the lone pillow Yunho kept.He gave it an exaggerated fluff before propping it against the headboard. “Now, tell me—what’s the matter? What has my brother so upset?”

“I didn't want to say this in front of the children or Nari.” He bit his lip nervously, waves of anxiety rolling off of him and onto Hongjoong. “When I was in Chris’s office earlier I spied a document on his desk. 

Hongjoong straightened slightly, his posture no longer as casual. “Go on.”

“Its—Hongjoong, they’re planning to make cuts to certain establishments that rely on aid from the capital.” He swallowed hard, visibly shaken. “The orphanage… it was on that list.”

Hongjoong was on the verge of losing his dinner. He could hear the creaking of leather from his gloves as he clenched his fists. “There must have been a mistake. A small error when they curated the list. There's no way those overgrown pigs in Capital would try to cut funding for the only foster home in miles.” 

He was seething, seeing red in his vision. That had to be it. Yunho had to have misread the document. 

“War is on the horizon Hongjoong.” Yunho’s voice sounded like a whisper against the roaring in his ears. 

“Soldiers are equipping their weapons and taking to the skies on hoverships. The King is enforcing an order throughout the lands for every available wizard to join their ranks and give aid in making weapons of destruction. War costs money, and more money means cuts in places that don't matter.” Yunho looked up and Hongjoong saw his youth waning from his irises leaving behind the tiredness that's clawed at them both ever since they were old enough to lend a hand. “We don't matter to them hyung.” 

Hongjoong couldn't sit there any longer, fingers itching against the fabric, burning. 

“Where are you going at this hour?” Yunho asked as he watched Hongjoong abruptly stand.

He grabbed his coat off the rack forcing his arms into the holes with an urgency that left the garment twisted and uneven. “To Capital.” He said voice hard and clipped. 

“The trolley's already stopped running for the night.” 

“I'll go by foot. My legs work just fine.” He yanked the collar of his coat up, his expression hard as steel.

Yunho stood, his eyes wide with disbelief. “Hyung, what do you expect to do? March into Capital in the middle of the night and—what? Reason with them?”

Hongjoong turned to face his brother, the fire in his chest roaring louder. His words came out low and venomous, each syllable biting with intent. “First, I’ll find those scoundrels who wrote up that damn document. Then, I’ll slit their throats and shove the papers down their windpipes while they’re choking on their own blood.”

Yunho took a step back, his concern morphing into alarm. “Hongjoong—”

“Don’t try to stop me,” Hongjoong snapped, his gaze fierce, yet his hands trembled as they worked to fasten the buttons of his coat. "If no one else will stand up for us, then I will. Even if it kills me.”

“I'm going to join the King's army.”

Hongjoong felt as if Yunho had slapped him across his face.

“The Kingsmen get a larger stipend than military police officers. They provide full coverage for soldiers' families and assist with medical costs if needed. I—I can do it. I have the qualifications. You saw my test scores—I passed strategies with flying colors and can shoot better than any officer in my quadrant. I can do it.” Yunho's eyes were a bit wild, nodding to himself as if affirming the idea, avoiding Hongjoong's gaze.

“Why does it sound like you're trying to convince yourself instead of me?”

“I can do it,” he said more firmly, a desperate edge creeping into his voice.

Images of Yunho on the front lines. Images of Yunho riddled with bullet holes as the enemies tried to cut him down as if he were just a tree and not a human being. Images of soldiers on their doorstep to inform them of Yunho's death. Images of Yunho's body delivered to them, covered in white cloth stained red by his blood. 

He was going to throw up. 

“No,” Hongjoong replied flatly.

Hongjoong’s chest ached as the first tear spilled onto Yunho's cheek. “We have to do something, hyung. This is the only way,” Yunho said, his voice cracking under the weight of his desperation.

He reached up, cupping Yunho’s face with steady hands, willing his fingers to stop their damn trembling. 

“You listen to me, and you listen well, hm? Under no circumstances will you join the King's army. Do you hear me? We still have options, and that is not one of them.” His thumb brushed against Yunho’s damp cheek, catching the steady flow of tears. “I’ll handle it. Leave it to me, okay? I’ll figure it out. Trust me.”

Yunho sucked in a rattling breath. “ But—” 

When was the last time he had seen Yunho cry? Not since after Yechan and the others joined the family. It was always burdensome being the eldest. You couldn't be weak. You couldn't break down. But here, in the safety of their room, was where they allowed themselves to talk about their dreams and their fears, no matter how far-fetched or overwhelming they seemed.

“Trust in your hyung,” Hongjoong said softly, a bittersweet smile tugging at his lips. “When have I ever led you astray?” He cradled Yunho’s face with such care it was as though he were holding something fragile, something irreplaceable. Yunho was irreplaceable.

Yunho’s lip quivered, but he nodded, the faintest glimmer of hope returning to his tear-streaked face. “ Let's go to bed. I have to report for duty at sunrise.” 

Hongjoong nodded, releasing his hold so Yunho could clamber back into bed. The soft creak of the frame echoed through the quiet room as Yunho settled beneath the thin blankets. Hongjoong moved with less urgency now, his fingers working slowly to unbutton his jacket before draping it on the desk chair. He glanced around the room briefly, his shoulders sagging under his responsibilities.

By the time his head hit the pillow, his eyes had already fluttered shut, exhaustion dragging him under.

Money.

That cursed word kept him in a never-ending chase. A carrot dangling on a stick right in front of his face, taunting him just out of reach.

They needed a surplus of it. More than they’d ever managed to scrape together if they wanted to keep the foster home from closing its doors. To keep Yunho off the front lines. 

Tapping against the bedframe pulled him from his thoughts, a series of taps and pauses in between. Hongjoong responded in kind, his fingers moving instinctively tapping out the familiar rhythm on the headboard.

Tap. Pause. Four taps. Pause. Three more taps. 

Hongjoong exhaled, sinking further into the thin cotton blankets. He needed to rest. For tomorrow he had a mission to accomplish. 

 

 

💫

 

 

 

Damn the doctor. Damn the King and his need for an irrelevant war. Had he no shame?

No conscience for what he was putting his own people through? 

A king was for the people! But the King was so willing and ready to throw his own people away for the slim possibility that the neighboring kingdom had something to do with the disappearance of the prince. 

The poor fool probably ran off, deserting his claim to the throne under his father's siege. Hongjoong wouldn't blame him. His father was a tyrant. 

They couldn't afford it. 

Medicine was nearly double the price now because of the raise in taxes. And now they couldn't afford it. 

Aerum needed that medicine. Her constitution had always been weak. Days would go by where she would be confined in bed, too frail to even lift her head off the pillows. The days where she was giggling and running around as a normal child were few in comparison. He needed to find a solution quickly. He needed solutions for everything, now. 

Hongjoong walked against the throng of people out and about in the market square. If he didn't have money he knew of other unconventional ways to acquire it. Pulling his cap lower over his choppy red hair Hongjoong discretely observed the crowd leisurely visiting the stalls. 

There was a process of how he selected his targets. It was deliberate, almost surgical in its precision. He didn’t just look for someone wealthy. Wealth alone didn’t guarantee success. His sharp eyes picked up on details others would miss: the distracted tilt of a merchant’s head, a noblewoman too engrossed in conversation to notice her purse, or the lazy grip of a man who had grown too comfortable in his affluence. He paid attention to the weight of their pockets, the gleam of jewelry barely concealed by layers of fabric, and most importantly, the ease of escape. 

A target had to be oblivious, the environment had to offer cover, and the risk had to be worth the reward. Quick hands and quicker thinking made all the difference, but it was his patience and knack for reading people that ensured he rarely left empty-handed.

Near the fountain. There was his next target. The person was headed toward the southern gates so Hongjoong followed a few bodies behind.Trailing, but not as if he was stalking. He straightened, hands hidden in his pockets, his gait confident. A man with places to go and people to see. A man that belonged.

For all their wealth, the elites lacked the understanding of how to be in these streets. Their world was polished and predictable. His was a dance of shadows and opportunity.

He truly didn’t need money to own these streets. He’d been walking them for years, knowing every crack and loose brick in the cobblestones, every secret passage to the best places in town. 

These rich elites would never know what a sunrise looked like from up on the bell tower. They would never experience the thrill of slipping through hidden alleys that twisted like veins through the heart of the city, leading to forgotten courtyards and quiet rooftops.

Boutiques and fancy restaurants slowly morphed into ratty abandoned buildings and less populated roads as they grew closer to the southern gates. The southern district. The district where the shoddy part of the kingdom resided, far removed from its gleaming center. 

Hongjoong raised an eyebrow intrigued. What was someone of such obvious wealth doing in this part of the kingdom? Lost, perhaps? 

He watched the figure scan their surroundings, eyes darting anxiously.

Yes, clearly lost. 

The individual turned and stepped through the double doors of a tavern—Hongjoong’s favorite tavern. 

This actually worked out in his favor hadn't it.

A smirk tugged at his lips as he lingered a moment before following suit.

Smells of cheap alcohol and tobacco assaulted his senses as he stepped into the establishment. Tables were already filled by men and women alike, their laughter and conversations blending into a low hum for mid-day.

His target sat at a corner in the back of the tavern, sticking out like a sore thumb, gaining attention from a table of not so kind looking men. Hongjoong recognized them as a troubled group known for causing a ruckus around these parts.

A burly man with a nasty cut on his temple rose from his stool, walking towards his target to strike up a conversation. 

Hongjoong was not going to let them steal his carrot when it was dangling right in front of him, so be damned. 

He moved quickly, bypassing barmaids with glasses balanced on plates, swiftly snagging one for himself as he went. The barmaid gave him a look, but let it go as she saw who it was that had snatched the alcohol. 

Five, four, three… Hongjoong counted down to one before slipping into his persona. He placed an arm around his target leaning his body forward to look up into their face. 

“Darling, there you are. I've been looking for you everywhere.” 

Golden eyes.

Golden eyes shone back at him with an almost intensity that sent a ripple of something unsettling and thrilling down Hongjoong's spine. 

This man was undeniably, irreversibly, the most striking person Hongjoong had ever laid his eyes upon.

"May I help you?" the burly man asked, seemingly pissed off at Hongjoong’s arrival.

Hongjoong had to will himself to look away just to address the other in front of them. “Sorry, have I interrupted something?” He asked unkindly.

“Yes, you did mate.” the man growled. 

Hongjoong ignored him, turning back to the golden-eyed stranger who was already staring back at him. 

"Darling, you know how I hate it when you disappear like this," he purred, dripping with feigned affection. "I've been looking all over for you."

The golden-eyed man’s lips twitched into a sly smile, his golden gaze narrowing just enough to show he understood the unspoken game Hongjoong had set up. 

This one was smart, Hongjoong thought. 

He glanced at Hongjoong, his expression shifting into one of playful curiosity. "Ah," he said, leaning back slightly but allowing Hongjoong's arm to remain there, "It seems I’ve been caught, haven’t I? And here I was thinking I could escape unnoticed.” His voice was smooth like fine wine, pleasing to the ears.

Hongjoong felt his lips curling, pleased. "Well, it’s no use hiding now," he said softly, his fingers lightly brushing against the stranger’s sleeve. "I’ll never let you out of my sight again."

The golden-eyed man chuckled softly, clearly enjoying the role they were now both playing. He leaned in just a little, his voice low and smooth, "You always were a bit possessive, weren’t you?" He said, tone affectionate.

"Only when it comes to you," Hongjoong replied smoothly, his gaze steady and his smirk unwavering.

"Well, then," he said, his voice a touch more serious, "I suppose I should stop making you chase me."

Fuck. 

He knew that Hongjoong was tailing him. How? He had made sure he was careful.

Hongjoong didn’t let his surprise show. He kept his face cool, his grip subtly tightening on the stranger’s arm, “You have no idea how much I’ve missed you.”

Without breaking eye contact, the stranger placed a hand over Hongjoong's and gently but firmly lifted it from his shoulder. His fingers danced across Hongjoong’s skin, a calculated move, making sure Hongjoong’s hand was securely held between them.

“Then shall we be off?” the stranger asked, a grin tugging at the corner of his lips, the words dripping with something that hinted at a challenge.

Hongjoong was momentarily thrown off, the shift in power subtle but undeniable. He didn’t falter though. His smirk deepened, and he let the stranger lead for now. This was just another game. A game that Hongjoong had no intention of losing. "Lead the way, darling," he said smoothly, voice unwavering. 

“Oh, wait–”

He took the glass of beer he was holding and shoved it at the burly man that was still scowling at the display in front of him. 

“Take this– for the trouble.” 

The midday sun hit them as they stepped outside, the sharp contrast to the tavern’s dim interior jarring. Hongjoong barely had time to catch his breath before the stranger leaned in close, his golden eyes glinting with mischief and something deeper.

“Quick thinking in there,” the stranger murmured, his voice low enough for only Hongjoong to hear. “But you’re playing a dangerous game.”

Hongjoong grinned, his heart pounding with the thrill of it all. “I never play any other kind.”

The stranger released his hold on Hongjoong once further away. Stepping back, he leveled him with an appraising gaze. Hongjoong mirrored the gesture, his eyes sharp and discerning.

No doubt this man was one of wealth, but perhaps not the obvious, ostentatious kind. No, there was something about him that suggested he belonged to a more intrinsic, rarified class of luxury.

His hair was longer than any man's Hongjoong had encountered, and he’d seen his fair share. The glossy strands tumbled, effortlessly elegant, yet kissed by a hint of wildness. It made Hongjoong acutely aware of his own choppy red hair, hacked unevenly to rest just above his neck in what passed for a style, if only barely.

The clothing he wore was simple yet—not. A typical loose shirt paired with black trousers. However what caught Hongjoong’s eye was the strikingly ornate jacket that laid across his shoulders— a diamond pattern of alternating pink and blue with golden trim that was unique. 

Hongjoong could appreciate good style. 

“I should thank you for getting me out of a sticky situation. How could I repay you?” 

Hongjoong shook his head. “No need.”

The stranger cocked an eyebrow. “You mean to tell me you did all of that just for the hell of it?” 

He chuckled, placing his gloved hands in his pockets. “What can I say, maybe I wanted to help a handsome gentleman out. Would hate to see a pretty face such as yours get hurt.” 

“I see,” he nodded. The man stepped forward until he was in Hongjoong's personal space. He was a little taller than Hongjoong, but not by much, not like Yunho. He peered down at him with those piercing gold eyes that seemed to shine even brighter close up. He lifted his hand gently, taking Hongjoong's chin in his grasp, eliciting a startled gasp from his lips. “Then I suppose you wouldn't be needing my pendant you have tucked away in your trousers, now would you?” 

Hongjoong’s breath hitched, his smirk faltering for just a second. He quickly recovered, tilting his chin slightly within the stranger’s grasp, eyes glinting with defiance.

“Ah,” he drawled. “You caught that too, did you?”

The stranger’s lips curled in amusement, his thumb brushing the edge of Hongjoong’s jaw. “I did. And while I appreciate the flattery, I find I appreciate my belongings even more.”

“I don't think so,” he hummed. 

Hongjoong knew how to pick and choose his targets. He also knew when to pick and choose his battles. 

It was time to run.

Yunho was an exceptional fighter. He could pin anyone down in a matter of seconds. However, he had never been able to best Hongjoong. Hongjoong was small in stature yet quick in his movements. 

He flashed a grin—half apology, half cocky—before dropping all of his weight down and then swiping his leg out to knock the stranger off his feet. The man fell backwards on his bottom with a surprised grunt. 

Hongjoong sprinted, heart pounding in his chest as he made his escape, barely avoiding a bystander he narrowly dodged, a colorful string of insults thrown his way as he kept running.

The main street stretched before him, and he followed it until a collapsed cobblestone wall appeared. Without breaking stride, he leaped over the broken stones, careful to land on the ones that wouldn’t topple beneath him.

He veered into the narrow alleyway to his right, just as the turn came up. His feet nearly stumbled as his body twisted in time with the quick maneuver.

No loud footsteps or shouting followed him, confirming that he’d managed to lose his pursuer. Catching Hongjoong was never easy. His speed only grew when a chase was on, spurred by the threat of being caught.

A glance over his shoulder confirmed it—no sign of the handsome stranger in the mouth of the alley.

Ducking beneath rusted metal stairs hanging from a fire escape, Hongjoong grabbed the bottom rung and yanked it down the rest of the way. Flecks of navy paint rubbed off onto his gloves as he swiftly climbed upwards.

Atop the roof, Hongjoong sprawled across the clay tiles, taking a deep breath. If Yunho got reported a red-haired stranger to the military officers again, Hongjoong would definitely catch an earful. He wouldn't count it against his brother to drag him to the bathroom himself to dye his hair black. He sighed,not quite liking the idea very much. 

To avoid drawing unnecessary attention, it would have to be a necessary sacrifice. Even if black was such a drab color. 

Hongjoong retrieved the pendant admiring the tear-shaped gold. It was unique just like it's owner, the gold shining like his eyes. 

What a peculiar man. He wondered if he was from around here. No one in this country harbored eyes the color of sunlight. 

The item had to fetch for a high price. Maybe if he told Eden that it was from abroad he could get a better deal. No, Eden still owed him. He would get the money. It would be enough. 

His fingers grazed the pendant, and at first, it was nothing more than a soft coolness against his skin. But then, a sharp jolt of pain coursed through his fingers. Hongjoong's breath hitched, and before he could fully comprehend it, the pain intensified. He hissed, instinctively clutching the pendant tightly to his chest, as if to quell whatever had seized him.

In the chaos of his reaction, the pendant nearly slipped from his grasp, threatening to tumble off the edge of the roof. 

With clenched teeth and trembling hands, Hongjoong peeled off his leather glove.

The skin beneath was stained black, the marks darkening his fingers as though they were etched into him. The inky discoloration spread like an unshakable shadow creeping up towards his wrist. 

"That curse looks quite nasty, I must say. Looks like it's a progressing type. Haven't seen one of those in a while."

Hongjoong's eyes snapped to the side, and he saw those golden eyes blinking at him, now standing right beside him. His heart skipped a beat as he quickly recoiled, his heels scraping against the tiles as he tried to put distance between them.

"What are you doing here? How—how did you even get up here?" he demanded, voice tight.

He hadn’t heard a sound. If he took the stairs he would have heard the rattling of the metal. What did he do, fly up there with a hoverboard?

He ignored Hongjoong's protest, stepping forward and grabbing his wrist to inspect the skin. Hongjoong hissed as the man's fingers prodded the blackened marks, sending a sharp jolt through him.

“Hmm, nasty indeed.” the man murmured to himself. “ I see the Wicked Witch of the Waste is up to her old tricks again. What did you do? Steal from her as you did I?” 

Hongjoong stared up at the man baffled. How did he know by just a glance that he was cursed by the Witch of the Waste. 

The man smiled to himself, something akin to danger on the lines of his mouth. “Don't worry my dear, I won't curse you like she did. I don't fault you in your love of jewelry. I'm also fond of–” he tilts his head, eyes shining brighter, if that was even possible. "—shiny things.”

Hongjoong pulled his wrist free, glaring at the man who only blinked at him as if he did nothing out of the ordinary.

“Who are you?” 

"I'm a collector, you might say," the man continued, his tone both casual and calculating. "I have a certain... appreciation for things that sparkle in the light. The way they catch your eye, how they seem to shine when you twist them just so."

He stepped back slightly, his gaze still sharp, as though weighing every part of Hongjoong with an unsettling calm.

"You're no different," he mused, his lips curving. "The way your eyes gleam... It's almost like they hold a secret, twinkling just beneath the surface." His voice dropped lower, as if savoring the words. "I find that kind of fire quite captivating. I would love to add you to my collection.” 

“You're crazy,” Hongjoong spat, pushing himself up from the roof, his legs shaky beneath him.

The man had the audacity to look appalled. “Why does everyone keep saying that?” he muttered under his breath. 

Hongjoong’s eyes flickered, scanning the area. If he made a running start, he could jump to the neighboring roof. The distance wasn’t too daunting—he’d jumped from higher.

“Oh, no you don’t.”

Hongjoong’s stomach dropped, and suddenly, instead of staring at the neighboring roof, he found himself staring at the stranger’s face—upside down.

He gasped, his stomach churning. "What the hell—" he screamed.

He was floating. Or flying?

Fuck, this man was a wizard.

Out of all the people to steal from, he had the worst luck. A damn wizard.

Wait…

Hongjoong's brain was whirring a mile a minute, the color draining from his face as he pieced it together. A man that controlled the winds and could fly. A man that was charming and had a handsome face. 

“You're Hwa.” 

The wizard blinked and then slowly a wicked grin took over his features. “ You're the first person to have figured it out.”

With a flick of his finger Hongjoong was yanked forward as if he was being pulled by an invisible string, stopping inches from Hwa's golden gaze. 

“I liked it better when there was no one who knew who I was.” His smile dropped leaving behind a cold expression that chilled his blood.

“Let's keep it that way.” 

Hongjoong didn't have time to respond or scream for help before his vision turned black. 

Fuck. He was going to die. 

 

Chapter 2: Hwa's Moving Castle

💫

 

 

In and out.

That’s how the job was supposed to go. According to the intel he was given the Wicked Witch was meant to be away. A window of a few hours to grab the spellbook Eden so desperately wanted. He had been prepared. 

Prepared, but naïve.

"You have a death wish, don’t you, boy? Sneaking into someone’s domain to lay hands on things that don’t belong to you."

Hongjoong whipped through the trees dancing out of the way of creeping branches and twigs that seemed to reach out for him like hands. 

The trees, the forest itself, was alive, a collective hive mind of its own. Obeying its owners command to rid the forest of intruders. 

Yes, he was naive to have stepped into the domain of the Wicked Witch without a more sound plan. 

He was going to get caught. Hongjoong couldn't find a way around it, not when he's been running from a pursuer he couldn't even see. 

No point playing hide and seek when there were literal eyes blinking from the barks of the trees he ran past tracking his every movement. 

There was no outrunning a witch. They could end your life quicker than one could take in breath.

He swallowed, his mouth dry from how he heaved in air to quench his lungs need to push faster. 

He’d played with fire and was going to get burned. No — he’d doused himself in oil and walked straight into the flames.

Death was staring him in the face and he needed to find a loophole quickly if he wanted to see another day. 

"Do you know what I do with people who’ve wronged me?”

He had to do something.

A stray root latched around his ankle and pulled. His body hit the ground with no mercy, chin planting on a nasty angled rock on the ground. Blood trickled from the wound as he helplessly clawed at the earth trying to gain purchase on any reliable surface that would aid him in pulling free. 

There was none. 

“They have to learn a lesson.” 

He was naive, but not weak willed. 

“Let's make a deal!” he yelled out, voice caring through the forest. 

Immediately the pulling of his body ceased, leaving him limp on the unforgiving mud that covered every part of his skin and clothes. 

Hongjoong knew he was going to regret his decisions the moment green eyes shone in the dark.

“What are you willing to give me to spare your life boy?” 

 

 

💫

 

 

Hongjoong awoke with a dry mouth, the texture of sandpaper scraping against his tongue. His stomach churned violently, threatening to rise and give him hell. When he opened his eyes, they felt heavy and sticky, like they always did when a fever was creeping up on him.

His head was pounding, sweat forming at his temple. Maybe he was falling ill. 

“Yunho? ‘swhat time is it?” He slurred, tongue sticking to the roof. “Yunho?,” he called a bit louder. “Can you fetch me water please, the inside of my mouth feels like a desert.” 

Footsteps echoed in the distance before returning, followed by the cold press of a glass against his cheek. He flinched at the cold sensation. 

“You ass,” he muttered, blindly taking the glass in his hold. He sat up with a grunt, tipping the water into his mouth, gagging almost immediately when the liquid hit his taste buds and it was indeed not water.

Hongjoong wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, disgusted by the herbal taste on his tongue. At least he wasn't thirsty anymore.

With effort, Hongjoong opened his eyes, immediately jumping backwards when it wasn't Yunho, but a blonde fellow watching him curiously. 

“Bloody hell!” 

The boy flinched in his seat beside the bed, eyes wide from the sudden outburst.

Great, Hongjoong thought. Nari is going to kill me. It wouldn’t be the first time he’d stumbled out of the tavern, drunk beyond reason, only to wake up in a stranger’s bed with no memory of how he got there.

This had to be one of those nights.

Dragging a hand over his face, Hongjoong tried to shake off the remnants of sleep that clung stubbornly to his mind. Foggy thoughts and a dull headache made everything feel slower, harder to process. “Um, good morning. I’m sure we had a fantastical time last night.”

Well, he certainly wooed a stranger with some coins in his pocket from the looks of it. The room was remarkable. It was expansive yet warm, its stone walls softened by rich tapestries depicting scenes of starlit skies and rolling hills. High, vaulted ceilings arched overhead, supported by dark wooden beams carved with intricate patterns. Candlelight flickered from iron sconces mounted on the walls, casting soft, golden light that pooled across the polished stone floor.

Hongjoong was currently laying in a grand four-poster bed, sat at the heart of the room, its heavy canopy draped in deep crimson fabric embroidered with silver thread. Velvet pillows and thick quilts in shades of gold and burgundy lay scattered across it, inviting and indulgent. 

He wouldn't mind staying a few nights in this bed, yet he couldn't indulge any further than he already had. Pushing himself up from the bed, he spotted his boots neatly placed at the foot of it and stood to retrieve them.

“Unfortunately, I’m running late for some prior appointments.” With a bit of effort, the boots slid over his socked feet, and the laces were quickly secured.He strode over to the boy, who still sat there, mouth agape and silent. He was quite a catch, too bad he couldn't stay longer.Taking the boy’s hand, Hongjoong pressed a light kiss to it. “Let’s do this again sometime...” 

His mind drew a blank. It must have been the whiskey that did him in.

“Apologies, but your name seems to have slipped my memory. I’m sure it’s a lovely name to match that face of yours," he winked. 

The boy clamped his mouth shut, his eyes darting away. Hongjoong smirked, assuming embarrassment had struck him silent. Without giving it much thought, he turned toward the door, hand reaching for the handle and pulled.

It didn’t budge.

He frowned, twisting the handle again. Locked?

He glanced over his shoulder. “Hey, why’s the door locked?” His tone was light, but confusion tinged the edges.

The boy shook his head, mouth pressed into a thin line.

This wasn't cute anymore.

A flash of irritation sparked in Hongjoong’s chest. “I asked you a question. What’s going on here?”

The boy’s gaze fell to the floor, refusing to meet Hongjoong’s eyes.

A sinking suspicion washed over him, his mind replaying the bitter taste of the tea the boy had handed him earlier. Was it drugged? Alarm clawed at the edges of his thoughts. Was this some twisted plot? Leave it to Hongjoong to stumble into trouble without even trying.

His temper snapped. Storming over, he seized the boy by the collar and yanked him upright. The chair screeched across the floor before crashing over. “I’m done with this charade!” he growled, shaking him slightly. “What was in that tea? Did you drug me? Kidnap me? Answer me!”

Panic flooded the boy’s face. He frantically lifted his hands, fingers moving in rapid, desperate gestures.

Hongjoong blinked, his grip loosening as realization struck him like a punch to the gut.

“You're mute, aren't you?” 

“He’s not mute,” a smooth voice cut in. Hongjoong spun around to see the golden-eyed stranger from earlier—no, Hwa. The name burned into his memory like a scar. “He’s cursed,” Hwa continued, stepping into the room with an air of cool authority. "Just like you.”

The revelation struck hard, memories crashing down in vivid bursts. His grip on the boy faltered, and the mute boy bolted, ducking behind Hwa like a frightened animal.

“Yeosang,” Hwa murmured, sparing a glance behind him. “Why don't you go to the kitchen and help with the preparations for supper.” The boy nodded, scampering off without being told twice.

Hwa closed the door with a soft click, his eyes never leaving Hongjoong’s form. 

“What did you do to me? Where am I?”

Hwa’s golden gaze swept over him, assessing. “Yeosang was supposed to give you calming tea,” he mused more to himself than to Hongjoong, “but it seems you’re as resistant as I anticipated.”

The words only fueled Hongjoong’s anger.“You mean the poison you tried to give me?” he spat. 

Hwa took a step forward, Hongjoong took two steps back.“ It's not poison. If I wanted you dead, you'd already be a corpse. The tea was to help you relax.” His lips curved into a faint smirk. “I even added honey.” 

“I have no reason to relax. I woke up in a strange place after– after you kidnapped me.” Hongjoong said, stalking closer in his rage, jabbing his finger vehemently into Hwa's chest. “Don't expect calmness from me.”

Hwa peered down at the offending finger unimpressed. “I do apologize at how the situation has turned out, however, I meant it when I said I can't let you go. As you know the mystery behind my identity is just that, a mystery, and I can't have you going around blabbering about me when I'm trying to avoid the King's summons. No offense, but I frankly can't trust you as far as I can throw you.” Hongjoong visibly bristled when Hwa brushed his finger away, as if it was a mere crumb blemishing his coat. “Don't worry, to compensate for my misdeeds against you I would like to offer you a proposition that you could benefit from.” 

“Nothing you say can keep me here. I don't care if you are the strongest wizard on this side of the continent. I'm going home.” Hongjoong leveled him with his deadliest glare, even if his fist was shaking at his side. He willed them to stop and lifted his chin higher in defiance. He wouldn't show fear in front of this man. Men who had power thought they could always use it to instill fear in those beneath them. 

Hongjoong was beneath no one. 

Hwa perused him, eyes roaming his body slowly as if trying to find something. Hongjoong held his ground. “You must be in pain. The curse. It's a slow acting one.” Hwa lifted his gaze upwards again and smiled, lips stretching to show the whites of his teeth on full display. “Causing pain upon the victim until it eats away at their core. I say by looking at your hands from earlier that you were cursed about two months ago.” 

Hongjoong tried to keep his face from betraying his shock at the accuracy. 

“I–” 

He opened his mouth to respond—only for his breath to hitch, throat tightening without warning. He coughed, struggling against the sudden constriction, each attempt left him choking on nothing, wheezing when air couldn’t pass through. 

“Easy there,” Hwa had moved and he was now in front of him patting his back in a soothing manner. “You should know by now that you aren’t allowed to share the details about your own curse. It’s against the rules.”

Once his coughing fit had subsided he wrenched Hwa’s hand off of him. “So, what about it? That's none of your business.” he said harshly, tears brimming on the rims of his eyes. 

 “Oh, but I could make it my business,” he said. “I deal in curses. Breaking them is another hobby of mine. If you so wish I could help you. I can take the pain away my dear.” 

“I don't need your self entitled pity,” he seethed, wiping his eyes harshly.

In the back of his mind his inner reasoning was screaming at him to not piss off the wizard. To choose his words carefully, to appease him until he saw an opening. However, this wizard rubbed him the wrong way and the longer he looked at his stupid handsome face the more peeved he got. “Now get your hands off me before I bite you," he threatened, baring his teeth for good measure. 

“Ah, my dear. Pity is the last thing I’m offering.” Hwa let go of his hands, letting out a sigh. “Very well, if you're so adamant about going home–” Hwa moved out of the way and gestured toward the door. “Then be my guess.” 

Something…something wasn't right. He conceded too quickly to Hongjoong's demands. “What are you playing at here?” 

“You may think me cruel but I do have a heart.” his gaze softened, which confused Hongjoong even more. 

“ You just said you couldn't trust me. What's the change in mind?” 

Hwa tilted his head in thought.“Just…just promise me you will keep your lips sealed and then you're free to go.”

Hongjoong searched for any signs of deceit, only being met with unreadable golden eyes blinking back at him in feigned innocence.

It would have to do. If not then he would make it work in his favor.  

“I promise” he gritted out.

Hwa smiled genuinely, gold sparkling in his irises. “Remember this if not anything else, promises made with witches and wizards can’t ever be broken.”

Those words struck a chord in him. Ominous in their meaning. 

His hands ached underneath the leather.

Slowly Hongjoong edged his way to the door making sure as to not show his back to Hwa. It was safer to keep his guard up in case he tried to do anything last minute. Hongjoong gripped the handle in his hand and twisted, the door giving way. With one last glance backwards at golden eyes bearing into him he didn't linger. 

He bolted. 

The hallway was dark, but as he began to walk, the candles on the walls flickered to life one by one without the help of a match. Eerie, but helpful. He used what little light he had to guide his escape deeper into the house.

His boots thudded against the floor, each step ricocheting in the narrow space. If he wasn't so determined in his quest of finding the exit he would have realized that the hallway was getting longer. 

Every twist and turn felt identical, the house becoming a labyrinth designed to confuse and ensnare him in its belly. Still, Hongjoong pressed forward, driven by the stubborn belief that an exit had to be near.He just needed to make it outside away from Hwa’s suffocating presence. From there, the path home would reveal itself.

Mother would worry if he was gone another night. Two in a row was pushing his luck.

The house felt endless, each path he chose stretching on like some cruel trick of the mind. Every door Hongjoong opened revealed something new, yet none led to the exit he so desperately sought.One room bloomed with flowers in every corner, petals cascading over the edges of vases and trailing across the floor like creeping vines. Another brimmed with books, their spines crammed into towering shelves that seemed to stretch higher than the walls should allow. A different room overflowed with plush toys, soft forms spilling from a bed.

No two spaces were alike, and yet each was the same in its failure to offer escape.

How could the house be this large? Having this many rooms was ridiculous. What was the need? But then Hongjoong remembered. This was Hwa. The wizard was rumored to have his own kind of castle, even though he himself wasn't a king. Hongjoong had never seen it with his own eyes, but people always whispered about the monstrosity of it. How it towered over the ocean like a living thing. Aerum had even described it as something out of a child’s storybook. And now he was stuck in it. Inside the wizard's castle.

And if he was in a wizard’s domain, he knew firsthand it wouldn’t be easy to find his way out.

Hongjoong’s frustration mounted with every wrong turn, the air thickening around him like the house itself was holding its breath...waiting.

Finally, Hongjoong stumbled upon a door that stood apart from the rest. The wood was darker, stained a deep maroon that seemed to drink in the faint candlelight. A big padlock hung from the door knob with a peculiar key shaped hole in the center of the bronze. Above the frame, an unfamiliar symbol was etched. A strange design painted in strokes of blue, yellow, and black. It twisted and looped in patterns he couldn’t make sense of, almost shifting under his gaze.

This had to be it.

He exhaled sharply, rolling his shoulders to shake off the unease creeping down his spine. One more. If this door didn’t lead outside, he’d march straight back to Hwa and raise hell until the man released him from this house of illusions. He just needed to pick the lock. 

Easy enough. 

“Who are you?” Hongjoong turned to see a different boy behind him this time. This one with black hair framing his uneasy features as he stared at Hongjoong with wide dark eyes. “You’re not supposed to be here.” 

Hongjoong smiled, hoping not to come off as too intimidating. The last thing he needed was to spook the kid.“No, I'm not. I’m trying to find my way out, but it seems I’ve taken a few wrong turns. Would you mind pointing me in the right direction, lad?”

The boy’s gaze flickered toward the maroon door behind Hongjoong, lingering there for a moment too long.

He said nothing.

Hongjoong’s smile faltered at the edges, though he kept it plastered to his face. “Or, you know, you could just open this door for me. I presume you would know where the key is located. I’d owe you one if you helped this hyung out.”

Still nothing.

The boy’s fingers tinkered with the hem on his clothing, shoulders stiff beneath his oversized sweater. It was subtle, but Hongjoong didn’t miss the way his eyes darted down the hall, like he was calculating something.

“Look,” Hongjoong pressed, voice soft but edged with impatience, “I’m not here to cause trouble. Just let me out, yeah?”

The boy smiled at him then. Eyes shining from black to crimson. 

“I can’t.”

Oh, how he was sick of the people who inhabited this house. “And why not, I may ask?”

“Because the door is gone.” 

Hongjoong whipped around feeling a crack in his neck from the quick movement. Sure enough the maroon door he had just been facing merely seconds ago had vanished, an old grandfather clock now replaced it.

“For fucks sake!” 

The boy let out a little noise, eyes getting impossibly wider. “You're cursed. That means you have to stay here with us.” He jumped up and down giddy at the idea.

Before Hongjoong could get a word in, the boy launched into a rapid, cheerful ramble tugging Hongjoong along by his sleeve and down the hall he had just come from.

“It will be so much fun! You should come with me to dinner and meet the rest. We haven't had a new visitor since Yeosang. You're just in luck tonight. I made an apple pie. It's San's favorite, I'm sure he would share a slice with you.” 

Hongjoong opened his mouth, closed it, and pinched the bridge of his nose, almost tripping over his feet. “Right. Listen, kid,” Hongjoong started, lowering his hand with a sigh. “I think there’s been a misunderstanding. I’m not cursed. I’m just—”

“You are.”

The boy’s voice was quiet, but the certainty in it left no room for argument. “You are cursed. I can see it.” The excitement never quite leaving his eyes. “That’s why the house won’t let you leave.”

Hongjoong felt his insides twist.

“Great,” he muttered under his breath. “A house with opinions.”

The boy giggled, apparently finding his predicament hilarious. “My name is Wooyoung by the way, what's yours?” the boy asked, leading him down a set of winding stairs. 

"Hongjoong.” he replied reluctantly.

“Hmm, Hongjoong? That name is odd yet familiar.” the boy pondered, stopping to glance back at him. 

“Well, Hongjoong, welcome to Hwa’s moving castle.”

 

 

💫

 

 

Chattering died off once Wooyoung and he stepped inside. The dining room was already set for supper. A long wooden table decorated with silver platters piled high with roasted meats, fresh fruits, and golden-brown loaves of bread sat alongside crystal goblets filled with dark wine. The soft clink of utensils against porcelain had stilled, forks left halfway to mouths as the occupants in their high-backed chairs turned to stare.Every pair of eyes landed on the new arrival standing behind a still beaming Wooyoung.

At the head of the table, Hwa was the first to move, his mouth parting slightly as if caught off guard.  

“Wooyoung,” Hwa’s voice carried a note of displeasure, “What is he still doing here?” 

Hongjoong had to give him credit. He actually did seem surprised to see Hongjoong standing there in his dining room. 

But Hongjoong wasn’t having it.

Hongjoong pushed past Wooyoung to reach Hwa first, fuming. “Don't act like you didn’t have me on a goose chase for the better part of an hour trying to escape from this place,” Hongjoong snapped, his tone sharp enough to cut. “I’m sick of your little mind games Hwa. Let me out or so help me, I'll burn this place down.” 

A broad fellow closest to Hwa’s side made to stand, eyes narrowing at the threat Hongjoong gave. Hwa simply shook his head. “Stand down San.” The man lowered himself back into the chair, though his murderous gaze remained fixed on Hongjoong. 

“Ooo he’s feisty like you said Yeosang, I like him,” another boy said on the opposite side of the table. He looked even younger than Wooyoung, face round and smile gummy. 

“I’m so sorry, I don’t know what happened. I made sure the door would appear once you got to the end of the corridor.Perhaps-” Hwa turned and gave Wooyoung a disapproving look.  

“Wooyoung,” he said sternly. 

Wooyoung balked at the accusation. “It wasn’t me, the house must've distorted the halls so he couldn’t escape. Then when he reached the door it poofed away when he tried to go through it. I swear! I saw it with my own two eyes,” he huffed, his lower lip jutting out in a pout. 

Hwa’s stern demeanor melted away in turn to comfort Wooyoung. “Sorry, my love,” he murmured, cupping the sides of Wooyoung’s face with gentle hands. Hongjoong watched as Wooyoung preened under the attention. “I didn’t mean to accuse you. It's just odd. If the house didn’t listen to either you nor I then something must be amiss.” 

Wooyoung leaned into the touch, curling his fingers around Hwa’s wrist. “It’s because the house wants to keep him. He’s special.” 

They both turned, crimson and gold gazes piercing him. He had to fight not to flinch at the intense attention. 

“I can’t stay here. I have a family to go home to. They’re waiting for me,” he pressed, hoping they would see reason. 

“Don’t worry,” Wooyoung chimed, waving a dismissive hand as he released Hwa, his eyes back to normal black orbs. “Hwa will figure it out, and then you can return home to your family. Until then, let’s enjoy dinner before it grows cold.” Wooyoung grabbed a plate piling it high with food that was set out. As if a signal the rest of the occupants resumed their eating as well, conversation starting up again. 

“Like Wooyoung said, we will figure it out, my dear. Why don’t you grab a seat and eat dinner with us. You must be famished, you haven’t eaten in half a day,” Hwa said, gesturing to the seat next to Yeosang. 

Hongjoong crossed his arms, arching a brow. “I wonder whose fault that is.” he shot back, sarcasm lacing his words.

With a heavy sigh, he trudged toward the table, opting for the spot furthest from the wizard. He yanked the chair out with more force than necessary, the sharp screech of wood against the floor made Yeosang flinch. Hongjoong, to his credit, lowered his head in a silent apology before settling into his seat.

Hwa watched him, a faint smile tugging at his lips as he returned to his own seat at the head of the table.

Scanning the array of dishes, Hongjoong decided he might as well eat. It wasn’t every day he was offered free food of this quality. He wouldn't feel guilt about eating it if he saw it as a way of compensation for being stuck inside this mad house.

He glanced over the food on the table and settled on spooning carrots and what looked like wild duck onto his plate, then, after brief contemplation, added a few scoops of fried rice and a roll from the basket at the center.

He sniffed at the duck suspiciously before taking a cautious bite, keeping a close eye on San across the table, who was already digging into his own meal. Once satisfied it wasn’t poisoned, Hongjoong took another bite. 

The rich flavor flooded his senses, pulling an indignant moan from his throat that was far too loud for comfort. But he didn’t care. The food was divine.

“Do you like it? Our dear Wooyoung is our official cook. He has a knack for making the most delicious dishes your mind can think of,” Hwa explained, making Wooyoung blush. 

Just to be petty he could make a snide comment to be rude to Hwa. But he had already moaned like this was his first time eating a proper meal ever and he didn't want to insult the boy when indeed his food was good. He was angry at Hwa not Wooyoung, and Hongjoong wasn't born in a barnyard. He didn't think…? He had manners is what he was getting at. So he just nodded his head curtly and shoved another spoonful in his mouth. 

Wooyoung smiled brightly even if Hongjoong didn't give any kind of verbal praise. “Here try the bread. I baked it fresh this evening,” he said, leaning over to drop a piece onto his plate. 

“Where is Mingi?” Hwa asked, sipping from what looked like red wine. Hongjoong wanted to laugh at the irony. 

“Where he always is,” Wooyoung answered, rolling his eyes dramatically as he sat back into his chair. 

Hwa sat his glass down grimacing into his wine. For a second Hongjoong thought he saw the liquid tremble within the glass.

“I'll fetch him Hwa.”

“Thank you Jongho,” he said, lifting the glass once more.

Wooyoung leaned over the table addressing Hongjoong in a whisper that was far too loud to be anything as such. “Hwa tends to get his panties in a bunch when we don't all eat our meals together.”

“There are more of you?” Hongjoong asked, bewildered. He was surprised enough that there were people other than Hwa who inhabited the castle. 

“Only Mingi is left. Everyone else who resides here is already seated.” 

"And you're all cursed?" he asked, recalling how Hwa had mentioned dealing in curses. Seeing Yeosang's condition, he couldn't help but wonder about the others.

Wooyoung grabbed a knife, spreading an absurd amount of butter with it onto his roll. “Yep.” He popped the ‘p,’ drawing a glare from Yeosang. “Except for Mingi. He's training under Hwa to become an outstanding wizard.”

That meant that he was collecting cursed people. Was he picking them off the street like he had done to Hongjoong? Or was he a special case because he had found out his identity and needed to be kept quiet. 

“None of you were kidnapped against your will?” 

Wooyoung snorted. “You mean those rumors about Hwa luring people in to devour their hearts?” He smirked. “Please. If anyone’s doing the devouring, it’s San at dinner,”Wooyoung continued, taking a bite of his food. “We all came willingly.Hwa found all of us while wandering the continent.Some of us were abandoned. Some had nowhere else to go. Hwa’s kind like that. Tries to help everyone he meets. Before we knew it, there were six of us.”

He wasn't referring to the rumor, guessing everyone was skimming over the fact that Hongjoong was being held here against his will even though Hwa had said he was free to go. Was it a lie that the house just so happened to be keeping him here without its master's knowledge? 

Hongjoong’s gaze drifted around the table, a thought popping into his head. “And none of you can leave the castle?”

Wooyoung shrugged, mouth full. “Not on our own.”

Hongjoong chuckled dryly. “That sounds an awful lot like being trapped.”

There was a clank of a fork hitting a plate. San's face darkening. “What are you getting at?” 

Hongjoong dropped his own fork with a deliberate clink. These people were insane to think this was normal. Being held against your will and not being allowed freedom.“What I'm getting at is that Hwa doesn't seem as benevolent as he appears to be. More like he's keeping you all as pets in his collection.” 

“Wooyoung!” 

Wooyoung was already across the table hurling his body into Hongjoong's. Plates full of food and utensils went crashing to the floor as they fell backwards. Hongjoong hit his head against the floor with a thud. Stars danced across his vision momentarily.

“Take it back right now. You haven't the right to speak of Seonghwa like that. He would never treat us as pets. He loves us!” 

Hongjoong was stunned at the change of character, but got his bearings fast enough to roll them both over, pinning Wooyoung's body to the ground. He squirmed underneath his hold eyes burning red and teeth bearing.

That’s when he saw a spark from his peripheral. Orange and red spiraled from Wooyoung's hands igniting into a flame.

“Wooyoung stop!” Hwa yelled over the commotion. 

It was too late. The fire caught onto his leather gloves. Hongjoong yelped, backing away trying to pat them out to no avail. The gloves burned to a crisp leaving behind falling ash as his skin caught next.

Hongjoong tensed, waiting for the searing pain he knew should follow. The unbearable sting of fire against flesh. But it never came.

He drew in a shaky breath, eyes wide as the flames coiled around his arms, dancing along his skin without leaving so much as a blister.

“It’s… warm,” he murmured, barely recognizing his own voice.

Before he could make sense of it, a sudden splash of water cascaded over him, dousing the fire and him in an instant. The embers faded, leaving his skin untouched, unscathed, except for the inky black curse that had long since marked him.

Yeosang crouched beside him, the flower vase still tucked under his arm, water dripping steadily onto the wooden floor. His gaze softened with concern as he reached out, fingers reaching toward Hongjoong’s hands.

Hongjoong instinctively withdrew, tucking his hands behind his back, shielding them from view.

Yeosang’s brow creased, his hands moving fluidly in quick, practiced gestures that Hongjoong had to focus intently on to follow.

“I’m fine,” Hongjoong rasped, his voice rough and uneven. “My hands… they were like this long before today.”

Yeosang's eyes flickered briefly to Hwa, who sat on the floor with Wooyoung curled in his lap, trembling and hiccuping through quiet sobs. The rug around them was singed black. 

Hwa exhaled softly, stroking Wooyoung’s hair with gentle fingers. “Yeosang, be a dear and take Wooyoung to the bedroom. Let him rest. He needs time to calm down. I believe dinner can't be salvaged for the night.” 

Yeosang lingered, his hesitation palpable as his gaze flickered between Hwa and Hongjoong. A faint crease formed between his brows, but he eventually gave a reluctant nod, rising to gently ease Wooyoung to his feet.

They were almost out of the room, Wooyoung leaning heavily into Yeosang's side. Just as they reached the doorway, Wooyoung's voice trembled, barely more than a whisper.

“I didn’t mean to... I just saw red.”

Hwa got to his feet, looking at the mess of dinner with distaste. “This won't do,” he muttered to himself. With a snap of his fingers, the shattered plates and scattered utensils floated into the air, seamlessly piecing themselves back together before drifting toward the sink. The half-eaten food vanished into thin air, leaving the table spotless.

"Hey!" San protested, his fork frozen mid-air, still holding a bite of rice. How he was stuffing his face during the whole fiasco amazed Hongjoong more than Hwa using magic to clean. "I was still eating! Why do I have to suffer for what he said!"

Hwa arched a brow, unbothered. "You’ve had enough for tonight.”

San begrudgingly rose from the table, snatching the pie that had been floating just out of reach from above his head. “Not this. I’m taking it to go,” he grumbled, balancing the dish carefully. “I’ll bring it to Wooyoung and Yeosang—maybe something sweet will help calm him down.”

Hwa’s expression softened, a small smile tugging at his lips. “What a thoughtful idea. Please do.”

San paused at the doorway, glancing back. “I’ll make sure Wooyoung doesn’t set the castle on fire while I’m at it.”

“That would be appreciated,” Hwa replied, amusement flickering in his gaze.

“Now let's get you sorted out, shall we?” 

Hongjoong slapped away the hand stretched to help him, pushing himself off the floor with a scowl. Water dripped from his fringe and into his face, leaving trails of water droplets down his skin. His clothes weren't fairing any better, half soaked and leaving a growing puddle at his feet.

Hwa glanced down at his empty palm, then slowly withdrew it, his ever-present smile unwavering. “Are you hurt anywhere?”

“I said I'm fine. Not like you care anyway,” he growled as Hwa quickly waved his hand in Hongjoong's direction instantly drying his hair and clothes, leaving his body feeling warm as if he was hung out to dry in the afternoon sun.

“I would like to apologize on Wooyoung's behalf. He's a sensitive soul and cares deeply for the inhabitants of this castle. He doesn't take kindly to those who speak ill of them.” Hwa’s tone was light, almost amused.“ As you can see he has a spitfire personality,” he chuckled softly. “We're still working on it.” 

“Yeah, well, you might want to work harder. Not all of your pets seem properly trained.” Hongjoong’s words bit sharper than he intended, but he didn’t bother to reel them back.

The room grew quiet.

Hwa's smile didn't fade, but something in his face hardened, and Hongjoong really wished that he would keep his mouth shut when he felt the warmth being sucked out of the room.

“My dear,” Hwa said, his voice soft but heavy. “You are beautiful—radiant, even. You shine brighter than any ruby I might possess.” His gaze pinned Hongjoong in place, unrelenting. “But I will not hesitate to snuff out that light if you continue to speak about my beloveds in such a way. Do I make myself clear?”

Hongjoong felt his cheeks flush. A shiver ran down his spine and it wasn't due to his drenched clothes. “You promised me I could go home Hwa.” 

“And you will, I swear. I will have this fixed by morning.” he said, expression turning neutral. “Until then let's get you tucked in for the night.” 

“Does this mean we missed dinner again?” 

Jongho entered the kitchen again with a taller guy who had the expression of a kicked puppy. 

“This is why we arrive on time Mingi," Hwa chastised lightly. 

His height rivaled Yunho's. Goggles rested askewed on top of his head and random smudges of what looked like oil dirtied his cheeks. This man, Mingi, must have been the other wizard in the castle.He looked no such thing as such, perhaps a soldier would have been more fitting of a job description for his stature.

“Yes Hwa, sorry,” Mingi sulked.

“Don't fret, Wooyoung foresaw you missing dinner and stashed a plate away for you on top the stove. Jongho there is extra for you as well.” 

At this Mingi smiled, dragging Jongho with him to the stove. “Thanks Hwa.”

“Come along now, Hongjoong dear.” Hwa motioned for him to follow. “I’ve had the guest room prepped and cleaned for you to rest in.”

Reluctantly, Hongjoong followed, his footsteps echoing on the cold stone floor.

“Wait, how do you know my name?” Hongjoong caught up, brow furrowed. “I never told you.” And he was sure Wooyoung hadn’t told him. 

Hwa, already climbing the spiral staircase, didn’t miss a beat. “My dear, there are no secrets in this house that can be kept from me. If there’s something I should know, the house will inform me.” 

“So there’s no privacy for anyone. You spy on them?” Hongjoong’s voice edged with bitterness.

“Quite the opposite,” Hwa replied smoothly, casting a glance over his shoulder. “The house protects. If there’s something or someone that poses a threat, I’m made aware. The moment you set foot inside, you were assessed whether you were a threat or not.”

Hongjoong’s mind whirled. “And?”

“And what?” Hwa asked, amusement dancing in his tone.

“What was the castle’s assessment of me?” Hongjoong’s voice dropped to a murmur, an edge of curiosity slipping in. “What did it whisper to you since it knows everything?”

Hwa grinned, his steps slowing as he reached a door. “Wouldn’t you like to know?”

With a flourish, Hwa opened the door, stepping inside. Hongjoong hesitated at the threshold.

The room was simple, in stark contrast to the grandiose chambers he’d glimpsed earlier. A bed pressed against one wall, a bedside table beside it. It faintly resembled his room from the orphanage—minus the bunk beds. There was also a window, the first one he’d encountered since arriving. Hongjoong moved toward it, peering out to see the moonlit waves below them, their surface shimmering in the pale light.

“We’re still at the harbor?” he asked, turning back to Hwa.

“Yes,”Hwa nodded, his voice quiet. “ Not for long I'm afraid," he muttered to himself, Hongjoong catching the words. 

He wondered if Yunho was up worrying about him. If Aerum was doing alright. If mother was pacing at the door like she did when one of them was late coming home. 

“Sleep darling. You will leave in the morning.”Hwa’s voice broke through his thoughts, a gentle command.

With that Hwa closed the door leaving Hongjoong to pick apart his thoughts as he watched the waves shift outside the window. 

 

 

💫

 

 

Hongjoong awoke to a knock on his door. Groaning a tired "Come in " he peeked through his blankets to see who had dared to come to visit him at this ungodly hour. Yeosang stepped inside, already dressed for the day. Despite it being so early Yeosang appeared impeccably put together, his clothes neat and pressed, his hair perfectly styled as though he hadn't just woken up. The contrast between his composed appearance and the grogginess Hongjoong felt was almost jarring.

“What is it?” he grumbled. 

Yeosang eyes darted around the room before he huffed what seemed like an annoyed groan. He lifted his hands then dropped them as an afterimage thought. 

“You can use sign language Yeosang I understand quite fine," he said taking mercy on the poor fellow.

Yeosang's head snapped up, eyes widening in surprise. He lifted his hands, signing slowly.“You know sign language?”  

“Yes,” Hongjoong replied, a grin tugging at his lips. “Did you not realize I understood you at dinner? Does it surprise you that a commoner such as myself knows sign? I’m a jack of all trades, I hope you know.”

Learning different languages, including sign language, was a privilege typically reserved for the rich at those fancy private schools. Hongjoong had once seen a boy signing to his friend, and he found it fascinating. The fluid motions. The silent communication. It sparked an immediate desire to learn.

Back then, he wanted to learn everything. To understand all the worlds that seemed out of reach.

Of course, Hongjoong and Yunho couldn’t afford to attend those schools, so they had watched from a distance. They’d perched in a tree outside the school window, peering through the glass as the other children learned.

Yeosang’s mouth opened then closed. “No, it’s not that... It’s just that the others took so long to understand me. It was difficult to communicate with everyone until Hwa found a spell that allowed the others to understand sign without having to learn it.”

“Hm, sounds handy,” Hongjoong muttered as he stretched and got out of bed, his back cracking in protest.

“I came to tell you that Hwa enchanted the door so you can go home. He said to come down to the living room,” Yeosang added, still looking at Hongjoong in awe.

“About time. I’ll be down in a jiffy,” Hongjoong replied, his tone light as he began to get dressed. He was ready to get out of this hell hole.

In the living room Hongjoong was bombarded by the variety of eclectic furniture and knick-knacks that filled the room. There were plush armchairs, a couple of overstuffed sofas, and small tables scattered haphazardly around the room that seemed to have ventured from different time periods.The walls were lined with shelves that held books, odd trinkets, and various objects that hinted at the house's magical nature. Faded fabric clung from the ceiling cascading down onto to the floor. And in the center of it all was a large stone hearth fireplace that blazed a warm fire.

Everyone was seated around enjoying steaming cups of what smelled like peppermint tea and biscuits spread out onto one of the smaller tables.

Hwa, with sleeves rolled up to reveal muscular forearms, was busy stirring something in a black cauldron that was being heated on the large stoned hearth. Veins bulged from his arms as he worked with steady precision. When his eyes finally landed on Hongjoong, he smiled, making Hongjoong look away, suddenly feeling self-conscious.

Hwa dried his hands on the side of his trousers before turning to greet Hongjoong with a playful glint in his eyes. “Good morning, my dear. Did you sleep well?”

“No,” Hongjoong grumbled. 

It was a lie. He slept like a newborn babe. The bed being one of the softest he had ever slept in. But he wasn't going to give Hwa that satisfaction of knowing. 

Hwa only smiled, a quirk of his lips like he knew that Hongjoong was lying but decided not to call him out on it. “ Mingi, why don't you come over here and finish stirring the potion for me. I need it ready by this afternoon for the client. It's almost done, just a little more time on the fire and it will be complete.”

Mingi, still lounging on one of the flower-patterned sofas, perked up at the mention of his name. “Coming!” he said, rising from his seat with a grin.

Hwa turned to Wooyoung, who had yet to look up from where he sat tucked into San's side on the sofa. “Wooyoung, extinguish the fire once Mingi tells you the color has changed to a silver hue.”

“Okiedokie,” Wooyoung replied lazily, still not lifting his gaze from his spot.

Hwa’s face softened then turned to address Hongjoong. “I believe it is time for you to return home. But before you do, I have a parting gift for you.” 

Hongjoong quirked a brow in interest as he watched Hwa crossed the room, approaching a weathered trunk that was nestled in the corner. With two light taps of his finger and a whispered incantation, words foreign to Hongjoong’s ears, the trunk trembled as though something alive stirred within. The latch clicked open of its own accord flinging the top up to reveal its contents.

Hwa rummaged through the organized mess inside until his hand resurfaced with a triumphant "Aha!" In his grasp lay a pristine pair of leather gloves, the dark material supple and smooth.

“To replace the pair that was ruined. These won't burn for they are made of dragon scales,” Hwa remarked casually.

Hongjoong’s eyes lingered on the gloves. Dragon scales. He's never even seen a dragon, the small creatures favoring to hide near volcanic spots. He reluctantly took them, tugging each finger into place. The fit was perfect, snug as though crafted just for him. “Thanks... I suppose,” he replied quietly, looking at the material over his hands in awe.

“Now, for the door,” Hwa clapped, standing.

They didn’t move. Hwa merely strolled to a random stretch of wall where an overflowing bookshelf leaned precariously. With a simple wave of his hand, the maroon door from before materialized as if summoned by thought alone. 

Stupid wizards and their idiotic magic.

A key stemmed into existence between Hwa’s fingers, which he inserted into the lock with a click. The lock disappeared, to hell knows where. The symbol carved above the frame glowed, shifting until the yellow emblem grew dominant.

“All you have to do is picture a particular place in Capital and the door will transport you there,” Hwa explained, stepping aside.

“That’s it?” Hongjoong asked, suspicion lacing his tone. Still not trusting the wizard fully. For all he knows it could spit him out in the middle of the ocean leaving him to drown. 

“That’s it. But remember our agreement. You cannot speak of me or anyone here once you leave.”

“And if I do?” Hongjoong challenged, eyes narrowing.

Hwa’s gaze flashed gold, his smile curling wickedly. “The same as before. You’ll choke on your own breath until your windpipe collapses. Quite unpleasant, I imagine.”

“You cursed me?!” he yelped, hand flying up to his neck.

“Not a curse. I wouldn't put you through another one of those darling. A binding promise. One you consented to, if I recall.”

He would have really beat himself if he were to be cursed again.“You're such a fiend. Fine, whatever I won't say a word,” he huffed, calming himself.

“Good. Now off you go.” 

Hongjoong stepped forward feeling his heart thud against his ribcage. He knew leaving was the logical choice. His family was waiting. His mother pacing. Yunho worrying. Aerum missing him. 

But…if Hwa was telling the truth and he could break curses like he said then was he making the right choice.

His hands gripped the handle of the door, the leather of his gloves creaking.

“Hongjoong?” 

Hongjoong turned to face Wooyoung who had gotten up from the sofa. He was twiddling with his fingers, face scrunched up as if he was upset.

“Hongjoong I– I want to apologize about what happened at dinner. I really didn't mean to hurt you. I have a hard time controlling my anger, and I– it doesn't give me the right to hurt you like that. I could have burned you badly. I'm sorry.” A tear let loose from the corner of his eyes and without thinking Hongjoong reached up and wiped it away with the pad of his thumb. Wooyoung lifted his head surprised.

He was young, maybe only a year or two younger than himself. All of them were young weren't they? 

And to be cursed with fire that flared out when your emotions were unstable? Hongjoong couldn't find it in himself to be angry with Wooyoung. If it was Yechan he would be understanding, especially with his mood swings as of late.

“I'm no stranger to a small scuffle. Though, fire as a weapon instead of a bar stool is a first.” Withdrawing his hand, Hongjoong offered a small, tired smile. “It's alright kid. No harm, no foul. Not like you burned me.” 

Wooyoung frowned at this. “I didn't?” 

“Hongjoong dear, my offer still stands.” Hwa interrupted. “I will still help you with your curse if you like. But, we won't be in town long. The King has a short temper and won't stay still or take no for an answer,” he said, taking Wooyoung's hand in his. “We will stay near the harbor for another day or so before we set sail again. If you wish to come back we will wait that long.” 

Could he read into Hongjoong's hesitation? That for a split second, he had considered the possibility of staying to break the curse that had been tormenting his body for two months. Could it really be that easy—a solution right in front of him in the form of golden eyes?

Hongjoong glanced at the door and then back at Hwa’s hand in Wooyoung’s.

No. He couldn't rely on others. Not when others were relying on him.

“I need to go to my family,” he said with finality. 

Hwa nodded, accepting. “Alright then.” 

Hongjoong held his breath, turned the knob and thought of home. 

 

 

   💫

 

 

“What the hell Hongjoong, where have you been?” 

Hongjoong ignored Yunho in favor of sticking his head into the toilet for the third time and retching the last contents of his stomach. 

Hwa failed to tell him that going through the door would give him such an intense feeling of nausea that he had to make a beeline straight to the bathroom instead of answering the pressing questions of his family members why he hasn't been home. 

“Were you out on a drinking binge again?” Nari asked by her station at the door, away from the smell of vomit as she scrunched her nose in disgust. 

Hongjoong flushed the toilet resting his back against the porcelain bowl as he slowly breathed out of his mouth to catch his bearings. “ Something like that,” he muttered.

Nari clucked her tongue in disapproval ever the daunting eldest. “Mother will not be happy when she finds out from coming back from the doctors with Aerum.” 

“When is she ever happy about my drunken escapades.” 

Nari shook her head, sighing. “Glad your home brother dear," she called over her shoulder before exiting the bathroom.

“Glad to be home Nari.” 

Yunho tutted moving to help Hongjoong to his feet and out of the bathroom after making him rinse his mouth out a few times. “Since the eldest is gone, care to tell me the truth.”

Hongjoong sat heavily on the bottom bunk as soon as Yunho let go of him, sagging into the springs, running a hand through his shaggy hair. “ Why? Don't believe your dear brother.” 

“I thought we didn't lie to one another Joong.” Yunho said quietly.

Hongjoong's hand drifted to his throat, rubbing the skin over it. “It's not that I want to lie. Rather I'm prohibited from telling the truth,” Hongjoong explained wearily. 

Yunho watched him carefully, eyes pensive. “Did you get yourself into something shady?” 

Hongjoong looked Yunho straight in the eyes —and lied. “ Don't worry your pretty little head over it.” He flopped back onto the bed with a groan, wincing as his head hit the pillow. “Anything happen while I was gone?”

Yunho hesitated, jawbone working back and forth as he gathered his words. “The King issued an order this afternoon for the military police officers to gather at noon and force compliance from the Wizard Hwa. The court officials kept sending letters of notice to his ship but he kept returning them in the form of paper airplanes as a taunt.” 

Hongjoong snorted into his fist. He didn't take Hwa to be the kind to have such childish tendencies. 

“Captain said if he doesn't comply then we are to attack the ship,” Yunho paused, lips pressing into a thin line. 

“Bloody hell, is he allowed to do that? They simply can't force another to join a war if they wish not to. The draft was abolished over fifty years ago,” he argued, growing more upset than he cared to admit to himself.

Hongjoong thought of Hwa and his cursed crew. They were a weird bunch but he didn't think they deserved that. 

Yunho only looked more troubled. “ I know. But like I said the King can't see reason and he won't stop at anything until he has what he needs. And Hwa is rumored to be one of the strongest wizards on this side of the continent. His powers might even rival that of the Witch of the Waste.”

“That doesn't give him the right to take away people's right or free will for selfish reasons such as war.” 

“I know, I know. I'm really regretting joining the military.” Yunho climbed into the bed making Hongjoong scoot over closer to the wall. Once settled Hongjoong scooted back wrapping an arm around Yunho's broad shoulders. He could feel the tension leave him as he laid his head on top of Hongjoong’s. “I don't like meaningless fighting.” 

“Yes, I know,” Hongjoong said. “You never did, not even when you were being bullied at school. You didn't fend for yourself. I usually had to step in and beat those bullies to a pulp.” 

“Yeah,” he was quiet thinking before he spoke again. “If we go to war I will have to fight a lot.” 

“You aren't going to war. I told you I will find a way Yunho.” He wrapped his arms tighter around him. 

“Okay.” He grabbed Hongjoong’s hand that was resting against his chest. “Are those new gloves?” he asked, changing the subject. 

Hongjoong looked down at said gloves, the leather was thinner and sturdier than the last. “Yes, I had to get new ones. The others tore.”

“Hm, they look nice," Yunho yawned.

 

 

💫

 

 

Hongjoong waited until Yunho's breathing evened out before he placed his head on the pillow and covered him with a blanket.

In the hallway, he staggered, pressing a hand against the wall to steady himself. He made it to the bathroom and locked the door behind him. He barely made it before he finally let himself succumb to his pain. Muffling a scream into his palm he doubled over in pure agony.

A sharp, searing pain shot up his arm, white-hot and unforgiving.Hongjoong fumbled with his gloves, fingers trembling so violently that he missed several times before finally tugging them off.

His heart dropped. 

The ink was no longer confined to his wrist. Pulling his sleeves up revealed that the curse had stretched, curling and snaking up his forearm in twisting patterns.

“Shit,” he whispered, voice cracking. This couldn't be happening. “I need more time. Please.” 

Hongjoong collapsed to the floor, sprawling across the cold bathroom tiles, his body trembling as he gritted his teeth against the persistent waves of pain. His breaths came shallow and ragged, each one torn from him as though it hurt to exist.

The cold floor bit into his skin, but he didn’t move. He curled in on himself, arms wrapped tightly around his middle as if the motion could hold himself together.

Exhaustion crept in, heavy and relentless, but Hongjoong knew.

He knew what he had to do. What he’d been avoiding.

Even if the thought of it made him sick.

Even if he hated it relying on someone else to fix his problems for him.

 

💫

 

Yunho left as soon as the sun had risen through their shared window. Hongjoong lingered beneath the blankets for a few more hours after his brother's departure before he rose from his bed. 

He had a lot to put together and get done in a short time frame. 

The duffle bag that he scarcely used was unearthed from his side of the closet, and without any thought he started pulling articles of clothing into it. Once that was completed he went to work on his next task.

He opened the drawer on the right side of the dresser taking out a few sheets of parchment. He dipped his quill into the ink bottle that Nari had gotten for them as a gift, then he began to write. 

He wrote six different letters, signing them all with the signature H.J. 

By the time he was finished the house was hushed in the absence of its usual inhabitants. Yunho had gone to work, Aerum and Yechan were attending school, and Nari was undoubtedly gossiping with the other ladies at the hat shop. That left only their mother.

He left Yunho's letter on the desk, stowing the others into the breast pocket of his jacket. He placed the golden pendant he had stolen from Hwa on top of it. Surprisingly enough Hwa never asked for it back. Hongjoong saw it as compensation for the troubled time he had during his stay in the castle. 

He hoped that Yunho would take the news well and do what he had asked of him in the letter. 

The letter elucidated everything. The pendant was to be sold at Eden’s pawn shop to finance Aerum’s medicine. Any remaining funds would sustain the household until Hongjoong returned.

He would return.

He had to before the money ran out. And by then he would be rid of the curse and of the clutches of the Witch of the Waste. 

Hongjoong made his way through the other rooms placing each letter onto their respective desks before heading down stairs to where mother was humming along to the radio as she bounced a toddler on her hip.

“Good morning mother," he smiled.

“Good morning my foot. Hongjoong, Nari told me you were out drinking again with whatever vagrant that decided you'd make good company. Son, you've got to stop all that drinking or your liver will rot before you reach thirty,” his mother reprimanded him all while bouncing the giggly baby. 

“Mother, I can't take you seriously. Here, give me the little cherub while you finish breakfast.” He placed his duffle on the kitchen floor so he could  grab the toddler from her hip, cooing and making all kinds of sounds to make the baby squeal.

His mother crossed her arms over her chest sitting down with a scoff. “Hongjoong you know I only want what's best for you. People talk you know. They ask when you will stop floundering around and settle down with a nice girl. Your a handsome young man. It's time for you to start thinking about your future.” 

Hongjoong had heard this conversation more than he could count, not that he liked having it. “Mother let them talk. I am happy where I am. I will settle when I am ready. And if I don't then that is my prerogative.” 

His mother watched him over her cup of coffee. “You and Yunho are free to chase whatever life you desire. If you take to the seas, I’ll wave proudly from the docks. If you join the circus, I’ll buy the finest seat to watch you prance about like a fool.” A gentle chuckle slipped past her lips. “But don’t tether yourself here out of obligation. The orphanage isn’t a chain, Hongjoong. It doesn’t bind you.” 

Hongjoong sighed, setting the baby in its highchair. “Mother you know out of all of your children I will definitely do what my heart desires. I make my own decisions. And my decision is to help you with the orphanage any way I can.” Hongjoong felt his heart clench. He hoped she didn't look too closely at him. How he was barely holding it together in front of his mother. 

“Mother I am so grateful for you and I probably don't tell you this enough but I truly love you with all of my being. Without you and this orphanage then I would have died by the elements as a mere infant. So if I want to spend my life giving back then that is my choice. Okay?” 

His mother's face pinched, her own eyes watering. She reached out and grabbed his hand and he held it back. Holding it like it was a delicate flower. “When did you get so big? My boy has grown so much.” 

Hongjoong offered a faint smile.“ You should tell that to Nari. She still scolds me like I'm still a whiny five year old," he joked. 

His mother laughed, brushing at the corner of her eye. “I swear, I need to marry that girl off before she lectures this entire household into submission.”

“Eden wouldn’t object,” Hongjoong teased.

“Is that where you’re headed now? I see you have that old ratty duffle with you. Do you have an overnight job to do again?” she asked.

Hongjoong hesitated. “Yes and no. Im visiting Eden, but then I'm headed down to the docks. One of the sailors at the tavern needs extra hands for an expedition. I… volunteered.”

Her brow furrowed slightly. “For how long?”

“A few weeks. Perhaps more.” His voice dropped to a murmur. “I didn’t want to leave without telling you, but the sooner I go, the better.”

His mother exhaled slowly, setting her coffee aside. “You should’ve told me sooner. But this—this is good. An opportunity.” She paused. “Won’t you regret not saying goodbye to the children?”

“I left letters for them all.”

His mother studied him with quiet intensity, though she ultimately nodded.

“You’ll come back,” she said softly, as if speaking it aloud would make it true.

Hongjoong forced a smile, his hands tucked deep into his pockets to disguise their tremor.

“Of course. I’ll return before you even realize I’m gone.”

His mother helped him pack a small duffle, packing the essentials and some dried goods to eat when he wanted a snack. He kissed her on her cheek and hugged her small frame longer than what he usually did. 

 

 

💫

 

 

The last letter was for Eden. His pawn shop sat nestled by the eastern gate, tucked away in the shadows of more prominent storefronts. A hole-in-the-wall establishment, yet despite its unassuming façade, Eden somehow managed to secure enough patrons to keep his business afloat.

Hongjoong often wondered how Eden did it. Whether it was his knack for valuing rare trinkets or his refusal to haggle with anyone bold enough to try. Perhaps it was the subtle charm that Eden wielded, the kind that made people trust him with their family heirlooms and whispered secrets.

The bell above the door chimed faintly as Hongjoong stepped inside, parchment pressed to his chest. The air smelled of aged wood and faint traces of brass polish, mingling with the soft crackle of a nearby fireplace. Shelves lined every inch of the shop, stacked high with curiosities and relics that glittered under the flicker of lamplight.

Eden emerged from behind the counter, brushing dust from his sleeves as he peered at Hongjoong with mild surprise.

“Well, well. If it isn’t our prodigal son. To what do I owe the pleasure?” Eden’s voice was smooth, threaded with dry amusement.

Hongjoong smirked faintly, laying the letter on the counter between them. “I need a favor.”

Eden’s eyes flickered down to the envelope, then back to Hongjoong. “Do you now? Should I be concerned?”

“No more than usual.”

Eden arched a brow but didn’t press further. “I assume this isn’t just a social call. Is it urgent?”

Hongjoong hesitated, fingers curling around the edges of the counter. “Not exactly. But if I’m not back by spring then, read the letter.”

For a brief moment, Eden’s easygoing demeanor shifted, something more perceptive lurking beneath his gaze. “You know I don’t like surprises.”

“I promise it’s nothing dangerous. Just… contingency plans.”

“You know how I feel about promises Hongjoong.” Eden sighed but accepted the letter, tucking it carefully beneath the counter. “Fine. But if this is another one of your schemes, Hongjoong, I’ll cut what I owe you in half.” 

Hongjoong laughed softly, a hollow sound even to his own ears. “Actually, Yunho will come here with a pendant. It will fetch for a pretty penny. But I want you to over sell it. Give him more than what it's worth. Then your debt to me is owed.” 

Eden's brow furrowed, a flash of concern darkening his expression.“Hongjoong. Does this have to do with the curse? If it does then it's too risky. I told you I would try to find another way.” 

“You know better than I that I am not allowed to speak of the curse,” Hongjoong said, his voice dropping a degree. The very mention of it made his skin crawl.

Eden grimaced, nodding his head curtly. “I'll give him so many coins he won't know what to do with it all.” 

“Thank you hyung, that'll do.” Hongjoong’s voice softened in gratitude. 

Ever since the night of the incident, Eden had carried the blame on his shoulders like he was the one that had placed the curse upon him. He was the one who had found Hongjoong on the outskirts of the wastelands, barely holding himself together, breath shallow and skin marred with black tendrils. 

He had tried everything to reverse the curse—every spell, every charm, every whispered incantation, but nothing had worked.Hongjoong had never blamed him. Still doesn’t. But that didn’t stop Eden from feeling like he had failed him in the worst way. 

“Try not to set fire to the shop while I'm gone.” There was nothing else to be said. 

As he turned to leave, Eden’s voice followed him—low, almost hesitant. “Whatever you’re planning… come back in one piece…please Hongjoong.” 

If he turned around now and acknowledged him he would spill everything to Eden who he saw as an older brother. Be damned if his throat constricted around his explanations. He wanted so badly to ask for help despite the resentment he felt at the thought of relying on anyone. Hongjoong needed his hyung to advise him, to ask if he was doing the right thing or making his own situation worse. 

But he couldn't.

Lifting his hand Hongjoong waved him off signaling his goodbye without a backwards glance. The sound of the bell above the door ringing faintly as he stepped out into the crisp air. 

He could breathe a little lighter now, knowing that most things were in place. The necessary arrangements were made.

As Hongjoong grew closer to the square, he noticed the unusual number of people gathered in hushed clusters, their conversations a mix of tension and disbelief. People leaned in close, whispering to one another, their faces etched with concern.

Curiosity piqued, Hongjoong moved through the crowd, his boots clicking against the cobblestones. He approached the nearest person, a middle-aged man whose face was flushed with worry.

"Excuse me kind sir, what's all this commotion about?" Hongjoong asked, his voice steady despite the growing unease in the pit of his stomach.

The man glanced at him briefly, then quickly returned his attention to the scene ahead. "Haven't you heard? The military police are at the docks. Something about recruiting the great Wizard Hwa to join the army, but he's putting up a fight.”

The man pointed to the docks. Where Hongjoong could see the outline of hoverships in the sky, their metal wings flapping.

Before he could process further, the sharp, unmistakable sound of gunfire cracked through the air, cutting through the murmur of the crowd. A few people gasped, and some turned to flee, their faces stricken with fear.

Hongjoong’s pulse quickened as the sound of chaos echoed through the streets. This wasn't good. Yunho had said they would attack at noon. It was barely past ten in the morning. 

He instinctively started toward the direction of the docks, dodging bodies who were running in the opposite direction. By the time he got there he was met with chaos.

“Come quietly. Under royal decree of the King you are hereby ordered to compulsory enlistment to aid in the war. If you fail to comply we will use force!” Chris's voice boomed over the dock, his neck flushed with anger as he pointed his gun at the figure shrouded in a cloak. 

The figure took a step closer laughing as the other soldiers drew their guns, antsy at his movements.“Force? Aren't you already using it? You nearly shot me without me even uttering a word. It seems to me there is no room for negotiation.” 

It was Hwa. His voice sounded manic, red wine turned to bourbon sending shivers down his spine.

Chris’s grip tightened on his gun. “Wizard Hwa, you have no choice in the matter,” Chris snapped, trying to maintain control, his voice trembling with a mix of frustration and authority. “The King’s orders are clear. You will either comply, or we will make you comply.”

Hwa’s laughter only grew louder, a low, unsettling sound that made the hair on the back of his neck stand on end. 

The wizard raised a hand, his eyes narrowing as he met Chris’s gaze through the shadows of his hood. “Make me? Is that what you’re telling me? You think your little soldiers can force a wizard to do anything? You must be delusional.”

Chris’s patience wore thin. “Enough of this nonsense, Hwa. Stand down.”

Hwa lifted his head, the hood of his cloak falling back. A collective gasp rippled through the crowd, and Hongjoong knew they had seen his eyes.

They blazed gold with fury.

Then he turned his head, no longer paying mind to Chris. He was looking at Hongjoong. His eyes seemed to shine even brighter. It over took his face in a smile that made even Hongjoong gasp.

 He was dangerously beautiful like this.

“My dear you've finally come. I've been waiting for you,” Hwa crooned, delighted by the turn of events.

“Hongjoong what are you doing here?” Chris exclaimed looking between him and Hwa who was starting to move closer to where Hongjoong was. “Don't move, or I'll shoot Hwa!” 

“No! You can't shoot, that's my brother.” Yunho shouted, emerging from behind Chris.

“Your brother has clearly been fraternizing with a criminal. And his hair is red! I knew the reports were about him, that thieving rat. Looks like birds of a feather are flocking together,” Chris sneered. 

“So, I’m a criminal now?” Hwa said bitterly. “I thought you wanted me to join your toy army. You people and your labels make me sick.”

“Look at the color of your eyes Hwa, that's evidence enough that you dabbled in black magic. And as you know practicing black magic is against the law,” Chris exclaimed.

Black magic.

Hwa shrugged. “I doubt my sins are no less than yours Captain.”

Hongjoong hissed, grabbing onto the front of his cloak. “Hwa you have to get out of here.”

Hwa peered down at him, tilting his head to the side in amusement. “Have you decided to take me up on my offer?” 

Hongjoong stepped to the side to glance at Yunho who was watching the interaction with worried eyes.

Hwa turned his attention back, placing his fingers on his chin to divert his gaze upwards. 

“Yes, now let's go before you cause havoc to the dock.” He ground out. 

“You see that Yunho. You're no good brother—”

“Shut up Chris.” Yunho barked, cutting Chris off who looked shocked at the act of insubordination.Hongjoong would say he was proud if he wasn't worried about being shot by a dozen officers.

“Hongjoong, please tell me what is going on. What are you doing here? How do you know Hwa?” Yunho’s voice was a mixture of frustration and desperation, his eyes wide with confusion.

He had to do this right. Or it could go downhill quickly.

He could feel the tension crackling in the air, thick and suffocating. The soldiers were still holding their guns steady, their eyes darting between the two men, unsure whether to act or wait for an order.

“I… I didn’t have a choice, Yunho,” Hongjoong said softly, his voice barely a whisper above the noise of the commotion. “Hwa and I... we’re connected in ways I can’t explain right now.”

Yunho’s face twisted in confusion and disbelief. “What does that mean? Connected how?”

Hongjoong’s heart clenched, guilt gnawing at him. He wanted to say more, to explain everything, but the words would only get stuck in his throat, suffocating him. 

“Hwa is the only man that can help me right now.” 

At the mention on his name Hwa pulled Hongjoong closer, his eyes scanning the gathered soldiers as more joined their ranks, encircling them. Hongjoong struggled against Hwa's tight grip. Yunho was peering down at the arm encircling Hongjoong’s waist with clear puzzlement and Hwa was making the situation worse.

“Yunho, you have to trust me," he said pleadingly. "If anything else, trust me on this. There's a letter on your desk. When you get home please read it."

“We are out of time I fear.” Hwa whispered into his ear.With a sudden flick of his wrist, the air seemed to shimmer, a faint golden light crackling around Hwa’s hand.

“Hwa, wait!” He wouldn't dare. Yunho was still among them, he couldn't attack now or he would be caught in it. Hongjoong’s breath stuttered in his throat, the unmistakable pulse of power radiating heat this close to him.

Chris raised his gun looking triumphant and itching for a fight. “Time to kill two birds with one stone.” 

“Don’t do it,” Hongjoong warned urgently, but his voice was drowned out by the sound of a gunshot.

It felt as if everything happened in slow motion. The gun firing. The flash of light as the bullet left the barrel. Yunho yelling,instinctively reaching for Hongjoong to protect him. Hongjoong flinching against Hwa, not being able to move any further as the bullet spiraled toward them. And then it stopping.

It hung there, suspended like a weightless thing. If he wanted to he could reach out and pluck it out of the air like he would a ring at a stand. 

Hongjoong turned slightly and saw the cause of the weightless bullet.“Is this how you want it to go, then?” Hwa’s voice was low and dangerous, his eyes locked on Chris positively pissed. Hwa had protected them.

“Because I can promise you, I’m not your enemy. But if you push me you will all — fall.” 

The first body hit the dock stiff as a board. Then the soldier beside him dropped next, gun dropping and skidding off the dock and into the waves below. Like dominos one by one the soldiers started dropping like flies. 

“Hongjoong?” Yunho hesitantly called, staggering in his spot. He took a faltering step towards his brother before his eyes widened and rolled backwards in his head. 

“Yunho!” Hongjoong cried, shaking off Hwa's hold to clutch Yunho’s body before it hit the deck.

The deadweight sent them both to the ground, his duffle swinging into his side adding to the weight. Hongjoong's knees painfully hit the floorboards so hard he knew they would bruise later.

“Oh god what did you do? Did you kill them all?” he yelled frantically searching Yunho's body for any kind of injury.

He removed Yunho's cap, setting him down gently on the wooden planks of the deck. Still, Yunho didn’t so much as flutter his lashes. Hongjoong hovered over his chest, his breath unsteady. With resolve, he bent down, pressing an ear to his brother’s chest, praying—pleading—for any sign of life.

Then, like a church bell ringing through the silence, the telltale thump of Yunho’s heartbeat echoed in his ears. 

He sagged back on his haunches in relief cursing softly under his breath.

“You're so dramatic. I didn't kill them. I simply put them to sleep with a spell. I'm not a killer Hongjoong.” Hwa smiled innocently, the pearls of his teeth on display. 

Hongjoong ignored him in lue of shrugging off his jacket, draping it over Yunho. He watched his face, commemorating his features to memory for he wouldn't see him again for some time. “I'll be back soon.” He bent down and left a chaste kiss to his forehead. 

Hongjoong lingered for a heartbeat longer, fingers ghosting over Yunho’s sleeping form. His brother's chest rose and fell steadily, the soft rhythm grounding him just enough to swallow the ache settling in his throat.

“He’ll be fine,” Hwa said lightly, watching him with an unreadable expression. “It’s a gentle spell. He’ll wake when the sun sets, groggy but unharmed. I swear to you.”

“That’s not what I’m worried about,” Hongjoong muttered, standing fully. His gaze flickered toward the other soldiers slumped across the dock, their weapons scattered uselessly at their sides.

Hwa stretched his arms above his head as if he hadn’t just incapacitated half the royal guard with a flick of his wrist. “You’re wasting time. I doubt the King will be thrilled to hear his soldiers are napping on duty.”

Hongjoong shot him a glare but said nothing, stepping over Chris’s unconscious form. The veins in his neck were still visible from where he’d shouted himself hoarse, but his expression was peaceful in sleep. A stark contrast to the vitriol he spewed when awake. The urge to kick the man while unconscious was strong. 

“Let's go,” he called walking awayfrom the scene.

“As you wish darling," Hwa bowed then followed joyfully behind.

They walked to the end of the dock. With the soldiers asleep and the sailors and fisherman having run off it was quiet safe for the rocking of the boats that were tied to the pillars.

“Wait, where's the ship?” he asked looking around the harbor for the so-called castle. 

“Over there.” Hwa pointed out to sea where Hongjoong saw the massive ship floating a few feet above the water. 

“How the hell did they find you if the ship was that far away from the dock? I thought you were trying to hide your identity?” 

“Because I was waiting for you on the dock.” Hwa answered simply.

Hongjoong sputtered, taken aback. “Why the hell would you do that? How would you even know that I was coming?” 

Hwa rolled his lips back and forth in thought. “Magic?” he simply replied. And why did it sound like a question? 

He had literally kidnapped him the day before to hide his identity and now he blew his cover just to wait for him? It didn't seem as rewarding for all the trouble that was just caused. 

“Stupid wizards and their dumb fucking magic,” he grumbled, sticking a hand through his hair. “Well, use your “magic” to call the damn ship over. Less you want to swim.” 

“Haha,” Hwa chuckled. “You’re so funny darling. No need for swimming. We will fly.” 

“We'll do what now?” 

“Hold on.”Hwa wrapped an arm around Hongjoong's waist and jumped off the dock with Hongjoong in tow. 

Hongjoong screamed bloody murder holding on for dear life to Hwa. Wrapping both arms around his neck he waited for his head to be submerged underwater. 

“Stop screaming and open your eyes.That’s it,easy now. You're doing wonderfully.” 

Blinking his eyes open took sure forced will, once the feat was done he was met with cerulean waters. They were hovering mere feet above the sea. He held on tighter to Hwa's neck curling into his side. “Don't drop me please!” 

“I wouldn't dream of it,” he purred. And Hongjoong would have smacked him if he wasn't afraid of dropping into the lapping water below them. 

“This would be more fun if you pretended you were walking. Straighten your legs and start to take a step.Think light," Hwa instructed. 

Hongjoong open his eyes long enough to try to get his legs to obey him. They straightened out albeit for a little shake at the knees. He watched Hwa taking steps as if there was an invisible road in front of them. 

He did his best to copy. 

“Atta boy, you're doing amazing. I knew you would be a natural flyer.” 

“Shut up or I will cut your tongue out of your mouth and feed it to the sharks," he threatened. 

"So violent," Hwa muttered, but reluctantly zipped his lips for the rest of the trek.

As they grew closer to the ship Hongjoong couldn't decide if it resembled a ship or more like a moving castle.

The lower half bore the unmistakable structure of a ship. Overlapping sheets of metal forming a sturdy hull, its keel reinforced to withstand the strain of flight. But above that, it became something else entirely.

A haphazard collection of parts, seemingly scavenged and fused together, sprawled in all directions, giving the ship an almost living quality. An extension jutted out from the main body precariously supporting a quaint house, as though it had been placed there as an afterthought. 

Just beyond it, a small yard stretched across a second-floor balcony-like platform, an oddly domestic touch amidst the patchwork of metal and wood. Higher still, a great domed roof curved overhead, its round windows gleaming like watchful eyes, making the entire structure feel as if it were quietly observing the world below.

The whole thing looked like it had been plucked straight from a dream, designed with both masterful craftsmanship and a touch of unrestrained magic,equal parts elegant and bizarre, as if it had been built by someone who refused to choose between beauty and chaos.

Hwa remained quiet all the way until they landed on the bow of the lower deck. Once Hongjoong's feet were firmly planted on wood he collapsed into a puddle releasing a shaky breath.Hwa crouched beside him, resting his chin in his palm as he watched Hongjoong try to collect himself. 

“You know,” Hwa mused, voice light as air, “For someone so fearless, you’re remarkably easy to fluster.”

Hongjoong glared up at him, one hand still pressed flat to the deck. “I just walked through the sky, Hwa. Excuse me if I’m not used to defying the laws of nature. I'm only human.”

“You did more than walk. You soared,” Hwa teased, his grin curling at the edges like he was enjoying himself far too much. 

“Screw you.” Then he promptly vomited all over Hwa's expensive black dress shoes. 

Hwa stared down at his shoes, expression blank.

Hongjoong wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, grimacing. “That’s what you get for throwing me around like a ragdoll.”

Hwa let out a slow, exaggerated breath, pinching the bridge of his nose. “You know,” he began, voice eerily calm, “I didn’t expect our grand reunion to involve projectile humiliation.”

“You shouldn’t have made me fly,” Hongjoong retorted, leaning against the railing for support. His legs still felt like jelly, and his stomach twisted unpleasantly.

Hwa examined his ruined shoes with a mournful sigh. “These were custom-made.” He flicked his hand lazily, and just like that, the mess vanished, leaving the leather gleaming once more.

“Show-off,” Hongjoong muttered.

Hwa rose gracefully, brushing imaginary dust from his coat. “I am a wizard, darling. A little flair is expected.”

Hongjoong groaned, dragging his hand down his face. “I swear, if you call me ‘darling’ one more time, I’m jumping overboard.”

Hwa smirked. “Oh, you’d swim back to the dock? I’d like to see that.”

“I’d rather drown.”

“Touching. Truly.”

Before Hongjoong could deliver a sharp retort, the ship lurched slightly, and he stumbled forward. Hwa caught him by the arm, steadying him with ease.

“Careful now,” Hwa said, his grip firm but gentle. “I’m not finished with you yet.”

Hongjoong grumbled incoherently but didn’t push him away.

“Let’s get you inside,” Hwa suggested, leading him toward the hatch. “I have tea that won’t kill you. Hopefully.”

“Great. Poison. Just what I need.”

Hwa chuckled under his breath. “Oh, Hongjoong… if I wanted to kill you, I’d make it much more dramatic than tea.”

“Comforting.”

 

 

 

Notes:

Hwa's cursed crew has been revealed. Can you guess what there curses will be? Make a guess in the comments, I would like to hear your thoughts!

I really enjoy seeing the comments and engaging with you guys 😆

 

* Hey guys the next chapter is coming soon. I've been busy with work, concerts, and volunteering in Thailand for 2 weeks. Sorry for the delay!

Chapter 3: Potions, Privilege, and Pandemonium

💫

 

 

“They're back!”

Wooyoung dashed toward them, flinging his arms around both Hongjoong and Hwa the moment they crossed the threshold of the living room. Apparently Hwa wasn’t the only one who had anticipated Hongjoong’s return to the castle.

“What did you think was going to happen? Hwa was going to secretly run away with Hongjoong and leave us alone?” Mingi teased.

“No,” Wooyoung pouted. “But I heard gunshots, and it was taking them a while to return, so I got worried.” 

Hwa released Hongjoong’s arm to fully pull Wooyoung into the hug as if he hadn't seen him in days and not mere hours.“Wooyoungie, I would never leave you my love.”

“You were shot at?” San growled, the words hitting like an accusation rather than a question.“I told you going to the docks was a bad idea, especially knowing they were looking for you harder than ever, Hwa.We can't afford any unnecessary risk.”

“There isn't any need to fret. No one was hurt and I met with Hongjoong so everything went quite alright if I do say so.” 

“You don't think it's a problem they've seen your face? Now that they know what you look like they can construct wanted posters and hang them all over Capital,” San exclaimed angrily. 

Hwa shrugged his shoulders nonchalantly dismissing the concern. “That can be easily fixed with a spell that changes my appearance in the eyes of others.” 

San glared, cutting his eyes from Hwa to Hongjoong. “Can I talk to you Hwa…privately?” he emphasized. 

“Of course darling,” Hwa replied, following San out of the room to where they could talk without the ears of others. 

Hongjoong took the opportunity to drop his duffle on the ground and slip away to the nearest sofa where he collapsed into the sea of cushions with a sigh. It was barely afternoon and so much had already transpired.The adrenaline he felt coursing through his body was slowly wearing off, leaving him feeling like a pile of heavy bones.His seconds of peace were interrupted when shortly after he closed his eyes Wooyoung followed behind to curl up beside him. 

Questiongly, Hongjoong raised a brow at him and was met by the sight of a sincere smile splitting Wooyoung’s face — so open it rivaled even that of the wide sea Hongjoong liked to admire.

“You won’t regret your decision to come back,” Wooyoung said, his voice brimming with undiluted conviction.

Hongjoong glanced down at him. Half his body was pressed close to Hongjoong’s, radiating a slight warmth that reminded him of sitting close to an open fire. He wondered if it was an effect from his curse, a body temperature slightly higher than that of a normal person's.

Wooyoung must have been the type to be affectionate by nature, because nothing Hongjoong had done so far warranted this kind of reaction from him. Still, he decided to let him stay where he was. He couldn’t be bothered to push him away. Not when he looked like that.

Gingerly resting an arm around his shoulder, Hongjoong smoothed down the fluffy tresses along the back of his neck. “Yeah, I hope you’re right kid,” he smiled tiredly, ruffling his hair askew and eliciting a giggle from the boy.

“Wooyoung, my love,” Hwa called softly having entered the room again with San who appeared still bothered, “Would you do the honors and set our course for Maeli? I’ve grown weary of this place. It’s getting dreadfully bleak, don’t you think?” 

Wooyoung practically shone with joy as he untangled himself from Hongjoong to scramble to his feet.“Yes, Hwa!” 

As soon as he moved Hongjoong found himself missing the warmth the boy had provided. Mingi, who had been lounging nearest to Hongjoong took his place, leaning over with a conspiratorial grin. “You’re gonna want to watch this. It gets more impressive every time I experience it.”

Hongjoong sat up slightly, curious at the prospect. As far as he knew, Mingi and Hwa were the only wizards on board. What exactly Wooyoung was about to do that had Mingi this giddy was beyond him. It wasn't like he's never seen anyone pilot a ship before. 

Jongho and San quietly cleared the center of the living room, pushing aside the table and anything else in the space. Once it was free of obstructions Wooyoung stepped into the cleared area, planting himself on the colorful rug with his arms extended out in front of him. The room grew quiet as everyone's eyes were on him, waiting for—what exactly? Hongjoong wasn’t sure.

Eyes fluttering shut, Wooyoung's body ceased moving. For a moment, nothing happened and Hongjoong thought they were all collectively playing a trick on him to get a few laughs out. Then a soft hum, melodic and ancient in its notes, drifted from the hearth. 

The sound grew, like the voice of the hearth itself was singing. Hongjoong’s attention snapped to the fireplace as the swirling runes carved into the stone began to glow, illuminating to life with a reddish light. When Wooyoung opened his eyes slowly, they were dyed the same molten hue.

Locs of hair upon his head began to float as if there was a wind blowing in the room that none of them were aware of. Hongjoong could only explain what he was looking at as otherworldly.Squeezing his hands into fist caused the hearth to swell larger, expanding outward like a mouth hungrily gobbling up the flames.

Hongjoong rose his feet up onto the cushions hugging them to his chest. The fire crackled loudly, raising the temperature in the room.“Hold on to something! It might get a little bumpy,” Wooyoung called over his shoulder, playful but still focused on the task at hand.

The room erupted into chaos instantly after that. Jongho and San darted toward the doorframe, gripping onto the sturdy wood. Yeosang seized one of the long swaths of fabric draped from the ceiling, knotting it tightly around his waist like a makeshift harness.

“Here. Buckle up,” Mingi said, producing a strap from beneath the cushions and handing it over to him.

Hongjoong’s brow creased downward. “Where the hell did this come from?” Mingi only winked in response.

Sighing, Hongjoong fastened the buckle around his waist, clicking it into place.

Meanwhile, unlike the rest Hwa had silently moved behind Wooyoung, placing steady hands on his shoulders as if to anchor him.

A sudden pressure built in Hongjoong’s ears, popping sharply. His already empty stomach lurched, and before he could process it, the weight beneath him shifted. The strap was the only thing keeping him from floating towards the ceiling as his body lifted from the cushions. 

“What—what’s happening?!” he yelped, clutching at the armrest as if it might save him.

Mingi cackled beside him, utterly delighted as Yeosang spun midair, legs wrapped tightly around his tied fabric.

“We’re airborne,” Hwa answered smoothly, looking back at Hongjoong, his lips curling.

Hongjoong’s eyes widened. They were in the air? This monstrosity of a castle was able to fly in the sky, not just hover above water?

“Wooyoung, I believe this altitude will suffice. Level us out and let's cruise for a while. The military won't be after us anytime soon.”Hwa continued.

“Got it!” Wooyoung grinned, guiding the fire with a careful twist of his hands as if he was leading an orchestra. The hearth made a loud creaking sound as it started to shrink back to its original size along with the fire within it. 

Hongjoong’s grip tightened on the sofa arm until he felt solidly against the cushions once more. His heart still thrummed in his chest, but at least gravity seemed to have remembered its job.

Unbuckling his strap with a click, Mingi stretched lazily as if floating castles were the most mundane thing in the world. He strolled towards Yeosang, who was struggling to free his foot from the tangled fabric.

“Come on stop messing around and let’s head out to the deck. I need some fresh air,” Mingi said, tugging Yeosang loose with a sharp yank.

Hwa’s voice drifted after them with quiet amusement. “Mingi, are you trying to slip away from your afternoon lessons again?”

Mingi paused in the middle of his yanking, turning just enough to flash an innocent smile in Hwa's direction. “Would I ever do that?”

“Yes,” Wooyoung and Jongho answered in unison, deadpan.

Hwa hummed, lips quirking up. “Mm. I thought as much.”

Mingi’s eyes flicked to the door longingly. 

“Five laps around the deck,” Hwa added without looking up from where he was adjusting a row of glass bottles on the mantel.

Mingi groaned dramatically, dragging his feet. “Fine.”

Hongjoong couldn’t help the small laugh that escaped as Yeosang clapped Mingi on the back, guiding him and the others toward the deck with the air of someone who’d witnessed this scene play out far too often.

As the door swung shut behind them, Hongjoong relaxed deeper into the cushions, gaze lingering on the hearth as the flames danced about. The runes had faded, but a soft ember glow still pulsed faintly within the stone.

“You're not going out with the children? I thought you would be intrigued about a floating castle in the sky," Hwa mused.

Hongjoong sighed, stretching his feet out onto the couch. “I told you I have had enough flying for the day.” He pinched the bridge of his nose feeling the dredges of a headache start at the base of his skull. “And what is it? Choose one. Is this a house,a ship, a castle? Make up your mind, it's confusing.”

“It's whatever I need it to be,” Hwa said, settling into the chair across from him with a cup of tea in hand. He didn't even see him prepare it. Produced by magic he figured. 

A different cup was tipped in his direction as an offering, but he declined with a shake of his head,not wanting a burst of bitter herbs in his mouth when his stomach had just settled. 

“What’s troubling your mind my dear?”

“I wouldn’t share my worries with you,” Hongjoong replied, clipped. 

He caught himself too late, biting back the edge in his voice. He needed things from this man, he reminded himself. And if he wanted things he had to play nice, even if the wizard grated his last nerve. He was still a wizard after all, and one he didn't wasn't personally familiar with. Hwa could at any moment decide to throw a spell at him for any situation he didn't see fit to his standards.

That meant Hongjoong had to swallow his pride for however long he was on this ship- castle- whatever they called it, until his curse was broken then so be it.

“Let’s get one thing straight,” he said a tad calmer, but still with an undertone of rigidness. “I might’ve accepted your offer, but that doesn’t mean I’m one of your pe—”, he breathed deeply through his nose. “I mean, kids. You don't have to care for me. I’m self-sufficient.” 

“What if I want to care for you?” Hwa said, leaning forward slightly, eyes glinting. 

“Not needed,” he scoffed, brushing off the flirtatious comment. “I won't be here long anyway. The faster I get off this thing and return to my family the better.”

“Ah, yes. Back to your dear family," Hwa swirled the tea lazily in his cup. “The soldier under that unbearable captain. He's your brother, no? I thought all soldiers were brainless, but he surprised me. There’s still a bit of wit left in him.”

It would be so easy to grab the knife he kept tucked away in his boot and stab the wizard's hand into the table. His own hands twitched to pull it free. 

The last image he would have of Yunho would be of him passing out, his eyes rolling to the back of his head as he collapsed into his arms. 

The look of disappointment and clear betrayal maring his face when he saw Hongjoong next to Hwa.

At least he wasn't dead. He would be safe for now he kept telling himself.

Yunho and him didn't have secrets. They could only trust in each other. But because of this damn curse he had to lie and lie again to his brother. He hated having to do it. But he would do anything if it meant keeping him safe. 

“Watch yourself,” he warned lowly. 

“What changed your mind?”Hwa said, changing the subject. “I thought you were determined to stay with your precious family.”

“You said you could help with my curse,” he said, not at all happy about the way he kept bringing up his family. “That’s the only reason I’m here. Nothing more, nothing less. The faster the better.”

The wizard frowned at this. “Curses aren’t broken so easily. They’re... layered.” His gaze drifted lazily to the fire, watching the flames dance and crackle.“The trick with curses is finding the loophole hidden between the lines.”

“Then do that,” he exclaimed, throwing up his hands in idle irritation.” You’re the all-powerful Wizard Hwa, aren’t you? The one who can rival even the Witch of the Waste.”

Hwa set his cup down with a quiet clink, his lips thinning. “Knowledgeable, yes. But undoing curses—,” he met Hongjoong’s gaze, “—that takes time. Especially those curated by the Wicked Witch of the Waste.”  

Time wasn't something he had in abundance. He had three months at least before the money ran dry. 

“I don't have that.” 

Hwa looked as if he might say something, but let it go with a soft hum. He drained the last of his tea, Adam's apple bobbing with the motion. Hongjoong caught himself watching it longer than he intended. 

“I'm well aware,” Hwa said at last. “I will do my part and start looking through my archives to see what I can find. Try to be patient until I come across something that can help. Until then I would ask of you to see this place as your home for the time being. If you need of anything let me or the others know and we will help to the best of our capabilities.” 

Hongjoong nodded stiffly. 

Patience.

It felt like a polite way of telling him to sit still and wait while his life unraveled thread by thread. But waiting wasn’t something he excelled at. Every second that passed was another reminder that his curse wasn’t lifting, that the shadows creeping over him grew heavier with each breath. 

Patience wouldn’t stop the way his hands sometimes shook without reason, or the way the world blurred at the edges when he got a sudden spout of shooting pain that caused him to bite down on his lip hard enough to draw blood. Patience wouldn’t save him. And yet, here he was gripping the frayed edges of it like a lifeline because, for now, it was the only thing keeping him afloat.

He would be patient. 

“Also, while I have you here, I’d like to go over the house rules,” Hwa said, smoothing out an invisible wrinkle on his sleeve.

“House rules?” Hongjoong’s brow twitched.

“Yes. Everyone abides by them.”

Hongjoong stared at him, waiting for the punchline that never came. Hwa only blinked slowly, golden eyes gleaming with unwavering seriousness.

“You’re joking.”

“I rarely joke about such things,” Hwa replied, straight faced.

Hongjoong ran a hand down his face and sighed heavily. “Fine. Get on with it.” He made a vague gesture for Hwa to continue. “Let’s hear these rules of yours.”

“First rule,” Hwa began. “ Don’t open any doors that don’t open for you first. If it’s locked, it’s locked for a reason.”

“Fine,” Hongjoong muttered. He could follow that. 

Probably.

“Rule two,” Hwa continued, “Don’t touch any potions lying around without permission. Side effects aren’t always… pleasant.” 

“I wouldn't dare.” 

Hwa gave him a long look, as if weighing the truth in his words.

“Rule three—clean up after yourself and help with chores. I don’t tolerate mess.”

“So, you’re a clean freak,” Hongjoong smirked, remembering the look of disgust when Hwa magicked his shoes clean.

“There’s nothing wrong with appreciating organization,” Hwa sniffed, crossing one leg over the other. “Rule four—”

“There’s more?” Hongjoong cut in.

Hwa’s glare was sharp enough to singe. Hongjoong mimed, zipping his mouth shut.

“Rule four,” Hwa resumed, “Never, under any circumstance, strike a deal with Wooyoung.”

Hongjoong’s brows lifted in suprise, “Wooyoung?”

“Yes,” Hwa nodded, “He’s charming, but that’s precisely the problem. Deals with him tend to favor him more than the other party. A demon I tell you,” he said fondly.

Hongjoong narrowed his eyes at the wizard. “You say that like it’s endearing.”

“It is, I have fallen victim many of times,” he sighed. “ But if you’re not careful, you’ll find yourself agreeing to things you didn’t even realize were part of the deal.”

The headache was hitting him full force now like a hammer to a nail. “Noted. No deals with the demon or wizards with golden eyes.” 

Hwa smiled faintly. “Smart choice.” 

“Now if you excuse me I have to retrieve Mingi for his afternoon lessons.” He stood gracefully gathering his tea cup in hand looking down worriedly at Hongjoong. “Are you sure you're alright dear?”

He wasn't. 

His vision was swimming and his arms throbbed where they laid on the cushions like he was being constantly pricked by thousands of needles. Being cursed was a real bitch.

“Peachy,” he muttered.

 

 

💫

 

 

He hadn’t meant to. But after the excitement of the day, standing in the middle of a shootout, flying through the air, losing his breakfast, and battling through the turbulence as the castle went airborne, it was no surprise that he eventually slipped into unconsciousness.

What pulled him back to reality was the faint sound of hushed voices. They grew louder. Loud enough to begin seeping into the edges of his dream, pulling him from the depths of sleep.

Well, one was loud while the other remained calm.

“Something about him isn't sitting right with me.” 

San. 

Hongjoong had anticipated that at least one member of Hwa's crew would oppose his joining. There was no way they would unanimously welcome him aboard after the stunt he pulled at dinner. Wooyoung and Hwa appeared forgiving on the surface, but Hongjoong noticed the way San silently glowered at him from the moment he returned. 

Out of all of them, San seemed the least likely to be deceived. Someone who had clearly witnessed more than his fair share. His gaze carried the weight of experience, piercing and unwavering.

“On what basis did you come to this conclusion?” 

“Maybe the fact that when you two met he was trying to steal your pendant. Which did you even get that back?” The lack of answer seemed to have proven San's point. “He's a thief, Seonghwa.” 

“When we met you tried to kill me,” Hwa said matter-of-factly.

“I– that's different,” San sputtered, thrown off.

“Not to me. You were redeemable when given a chance, so why can't you extend that same leniency to Hongjoong.” 

“My gut is telling me not to trust him.” 

“You said the same about everyone who has joined this crew until you warmed up to them.”

The silence that followed made Hongjoong crack an eye open to see if the conversation had ended. He didn't quite care if they talked about him. Who didn't with his reputation? But, if San planned to kick him off the ship just as he had gotten on, then that would put a wrench in his plans he didn't need. 

San and Hwa were currently in the hallway, their faces washed in orange from the candles mounted on the walls. Hwa had his hands cupping San's face, holding him gently like he could appease his worries with the brush of his fingers.

“San, look at me sweetheart. I understand your need to protect but you also have to learn how to let go and relax.” 

“I won't risk this family,” San said stubbornly, head held high and chin jutted in Hwa's grasp.

Hwa smoothed his thumb over the swell of his cheek, San closed his eyes against the ministrations giving in immediately. “I'm not asking you to. If it gives you peace of mind you can keep an eye on him. And if he steps out of line you have permission to do what you see fit. But I don't think he will be a problem.” 

San opened his eyes with a frown maring his features. “You only say that because he has a pretty face.” he pouted, lips protruding out.  

Hwa chuckled softly. "All of my boys are pretty.” 

Then he leaned in the rest of the way and pressed a kiss to San's lips. It didn't take long for San to turn into a puddle as Hwa worked his mouth open with his tongue. San let out an explicit moan tilting forward into Hwa's body.

Hongjoong shut his eyes and turned quietly on the sofa, careful not to make a sound. He had no desire to watch further of what might be transpiring.

Suffering through more indecent sounds, he remained still until the distinct click of Hwa’s heeled dress shoes finally faded down the hall. Only then did he stir. His headache had receded but the ever constant pain in his body was forever present under his skin. He stifled a groan as he rolled over and got to his feet.

Stepping into the hallway, he caught sight of San leaning casually against the wall lost in thought. 

“Were you waiting for me? You flatter me San," Hongjoong teased, the smirk tugging at his lips barely concealing the exhaustion lingering beneath.

“I don't like you," San said flatly.

“The feelings mutual.”

“One wrong move,” he said quietly, his tone even and cutting, “and I won’t hesitate to throw you off this ship.”

Hongjoong’s smirk only widened. “Oh, I already heard your blatant little threat. I also heard you sucking face with your owner. Doesn’t take much to calm the beast, hm?” 

Hands were on his collar slamming him against the wall in seconds. The cold press of metal from a hidden blade skimmed lightly against Hongjoong’s ribs, more warning than intent, but enough to make the air between them crackle.

Hongjoong could disarm him and pull his own out. But he was trying to behave. 

“You’ve got a smart mouth,” San muttered, his face close enough that Hongjoong could see the faint image of the candle's fire reflected in his eyes. “Might want to think twice before running it.”

Hongjoong’s breathing stayed steady, though his gaze flicked briefly to where San’s blade rested just out of sight. “Careful,” he breathed, his voice dropping an octave, “if you hold me any closer, I might think you’re the jealous type.”

San’s grip tightened just for a moment, before he shoved Hongjoong back and stepped away with a grunt. 

“Another word about Hwa–,” San warned, sheathing the blade in one fluid motion, “–and I’ll make sure you learn firsthand how far the fall is from this deck to the ocean.”

Straightening his collar Hongjoong noticed the top button had dislodged and rolled somewhere from their little squirmish. “Message received,” he said lightly, shooting San a sideways glance. “But if you’re going to threaten me, at least make it interesting next time. I do like it a bit more rough.” 

San sneered down at him in disgust, then without another word he stalked out of the hall and towards the stairs. Hongjoong was left standing alone in the dim hallway. 

The distant metal hum of the ship filled the silence. With a wince he pulled his shirt up to see a shallow red line just below his ribs.He let out a quiet chuckle dropping the shirt. Running a hand through his hair his eyes lingered on the spot where San had stood just moments ago.

San could pretend to play the loyal guard dog all he wanted, but Hongjoong saw through it. There was something entertaining about the idea of pushing him. 

Sure, he’d promised Hwa he’d try to play nice with the others, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t enjoy himself a little. If he was going to be stuck on this godforsaken castle—ship—whatever it was, he might as well make the most of it.

And if that meant ruffling a few feathers along the way, so long as he didn’t tick off the wizard too much, then so be it.

 

 

💫

 

 

He was given the extra room that mirrored his own back at the orphanage. Yeosang had informed him that the house molded itself to reflect the desires of those who slept within it, shaping the room into whatever brought them comfort.

That explained why the single bed that had originally been against the wall prior to his stay had now been replaced with a bunk bed. 

Hongjoong lay beneath the sheets on the top bunk, straining to hear the faint, familiar snores of Yunho beneath him, only to be met with silence. 

Why did his mind conjure the bed if he knew that there would be no one to share it with? There was no comfort in this room of magic that could grant whatever he wanted.

Comfort was elusive if it couldn't bring his brother here.

The absence of home lingered, heavy and unrelenting, settling into the corners of the room like a ghost he couldn't shake.

It crossed his mind whether Yunho had already visited the shop to exchange the pendant. If he’d followed through with what was written in the letter. Hopefully, Yunho wasn’t too cross with him, even though he probably was. Just long enough to do the right thing and get the money from Eden.

These thoughts clung to him, persistent and relentless, with no way of knowing what was unfolding back at home. His racing mind didn't bring him any semblance of peace. It made him stir crazy.  

Flipping the blankets off his body, Hongjoong half-scaled, half-dropped down from the bunk, opting for a stroll. He always found that walking helped calm his thoughts, so he figured a quiet walk through the halls wouldn’t hurt. And while he was at it, he might as well explore a little, especially while the others were asleep and out of his way.

Stepping out into the hallway Hongjoong nearly walked straight into Hwa, who was closing the door to the room next to his. Unlike Hongjoong, he didn’t look surprised to see him.

“Sorry dear, did I frighten you?” Hwa asked at the look of shock on Hongjoong’s face.

Gone was the signature checkered diamond jacket and loose blouse.Now Hwa was dressed in his night attire. A deep crimson silk robe that clung to his frame in all the right places. The fabric shimmered under the low light, giving Hongjoong a sneak peek of the skin underneath. The robe hung loosely at the collar, teasing a glimpse of his collarbones and the delicate line of his throat. A thin sash cinched it at his waist, accentuating the subtle curve of his hips. His hair, slightly tousled, fell over his eyes as he smiled.

“I'm usually not on this side of the house, but nightmares tend to frequent Yeosang through the night and that can be quite troubling,” Hwa explained, voice low. 

“I didn’t ask,” Hongjoong replied quickly, irritated for some reason.

Hwa’s mouth curved in a faint smile. “No, you didn't. But, I thought it would be good for you to know. In case you might hear him upset and crying. He's a sensitive soul, our Yeosang.” He quickly looked over Hongjoong assessing him. “Why are you out and about at this hour? Are you having trouble sleeping, darling?” 

Hongjoong rolled his eyes reminded of a caring mother. “And if I was? I wouldn’t want any of your damn tea.”

“Oh, well if that’s the case,” he began. “I have other methods that could help you fall asleep,” Hwa said, a lazy tilt to his brow.

Hongjoong’s breath hitched. His mind scrambled to process the implication. What was he suggesting? Did he want to—to…

Hwa inched closer jarring Hongjoong from his thoughts.“I find that a little exercise can tire the body right out,” Hwa said, tongue darting out to wet his lips. The same tongue that had worked San's mouth open and had him moaning from just that alone. 

Hongjoong’s mouth opened, but no sound came out. Heat crept up his neck as his mind stumbled. Hongjoong was no virgin. He had his fair share of flirting and fell into bed with countless individuals. 

Hell, he loved flirting! Yet, why was it when the wizard did it it left him a blushing fool.

“If you’re suggesting what I think you’re suggesting,” he said, voice sounding strangled to his own ears. “Then you’re out of your mind.” Where did all of his confidence go? Straight out the window? 

Hwa’s lips curled into a smile, slow and dangerous. “What exactly do you think I’m suggesting?”

“You—,” Hongjoong cut himself off, jaw tightening as Hwa took another measured step closer. His footsteps were soundless against the polished floor, and the dark sweep of his hair fell artfully over one eye as he tilted his head.

“You seem tense,” Hwa murmured, his voice low and intimate, red wine poured into a fine glass. “It’s not healthy to keep it all bottled up you know.”

Hongjoong stiffened, the space between them shrinking with every word. His pulse thudded unevenly beneath his skin as Hwa’s hand lifted, brushing the air between them like he was testing Hongjoong’s resolve.

“I’m perfectly fine,” Hongjoong bit out.

“Oh?” Hwa’s fingers hovered near the side of his face. “You don’t look fine. You're as red as your hair darling.Truly a gem worth admiring.” 

His body betrayed him by leaning into the warmth radiating from Hwa’s palm. His lips parted, but before he could form a response, Hwa’s smile sharpened. “Of course if you didn't want to join me for a midnight stroll that would be quite alright, too.” 

A midnight stroll. He wanted to go for a walk, not–

“At this hour? I'm quite alright," he diverted, inching away from Hwa's hand on his cheek and back towards his bedroom. “I only ventured out to quell my curiosity about the noise I heard through the wall. But now that I know everything is fine and dandy I shall get back to sleep.” 

“Hmm,” Hwa hummed watching Hongjoong trying to retreat. “Maybe next time then?” 

“Sure, whatever.”

“Then I shall take my leave for the night before Wooyoung wakes and sees i'm not there.Sweet dreams, Hongjoong,” Hwa said, bowing goodnight. As he bowed his robe dipped giving Hongjoong a peek straight down his chest. 

“Yeah, yeah, goodnight,” Hongjoong shooed him off until Hwa was safely out of his sight. Then he retreated back into his room having lost interest in his walk. He would rather stare out the window then risk meeting any other sneaking occupants in the halls of the castle.

 

 

💫

 

 

Touching down near Maeli’s harbor was no gentler than the chaotic takeoff had been. 

Hongjoong clenched his jaw as Wooyoung guided the ship down, the slow descent sending an unwelcome lurch through his stomach.He had imagined flying to be exhilarating—like standing atop the bell tower or scaling the rooftops, gazing down at the sprawl of the city below. But where those moments filled him with weightless freedom, this felt like the ground was constantly shifting beneath his feet.

Perhaps the nausea would lessen with time, though he doubted it. For now, he swallowed the discomfort and pressed his palm flat against his forehead, grounding himself until the sensation passed.

“Well done, my love,” Hwa said, his voice warm as he directed the praise at Wooyoung. The younger man’s face lit up, clearly pleased by the acknowledgement.“We’ll be staying in Maeli for a few weeks to open shop. Mingi, gather the supplies we need to fulfill orders—and grab some extra poli wings while you’re at it. I have a feeling they’ll come in handy today. Jongho and Hongjoong, you’ll accompany us.”

Hongjoong paused mid-motion, hands still fumbling with the strap of his seat. “Me?”

“Who else?” Hwa arched a brow, eyes glinting with amusement.

“Anyone, frankly. I thought we weren’t allowed to leave the ship,” he answered.

Wooyoung dropped onto the sofa Hongjoong had just vacated, sprawling lazily across the cushions. “I said not alone. We can go out in pairs or in a group since it's safer. And you won't be alone. You’ll be under the careful supervision of Hwa, Mingi, and Jongho. Consider it a privilege.”

Working in a magic shop was far from what Hongjoong had imagined for himself when he first stepped aboard Hwa’s moving castle. 

He had never minded taking when it was on his own terms. But he was taking for a different reason this time. He would be occupying a room he hadn’t earned, eating meals he hadn’t contributed to, and sleeping beneath a roof he hadn’t paid for for a period of time that wasn't set in stone. 

Hongjoong had made it clear just the day before he didn’t need anyone to take care of him. The circumstances were making a liar out of him. In the end, lending a hand in the shop didn’t feel as burdensome when it would be a simple solution to ease the guilt of depending on Hwa. He was already relying on the man to break his curse; need he remind himself of the fact every time he saw his face.

“Fine, it shouldn't be too hard,” he said, brows furrowing as he watched Wooyoung get comfortable. “And what exactly will the rest of you be doing?”

“Yeosang doesn’t like to go out much, so I stay behind to keep him company. San hates crowds, so he’s not exactly eager to mingle either.”

Hongjoong snorted softly. “That tracks. I just thought he would be so eager to come see if I was up to no good. You know, me being a scoundrel and all.” 

“I'm hoping the potions Mingi brews explodes in your face and kills you before I do," San retorted. “He is quite clumsy.”

“Hey! That happened all of one time,” Mingi protested, arms laden with a box. “Don't worry Hongjoong, no one died from that incident.” 

Haha, great.

“Can't get rid of me that quickly, San,” he quipped just to spite the man.

“Enough,” Hwa chastised, standing before the maroon door that appeared in front of him. “We are wasting precious daylight.”

The symbol carved above the frame glowed, shifting until the blue emblem came to the front. 

“We aren't flying this time?” Hongjoong asked sarcastically.

“If you enjoyed it so much the first time, let me know and I wouldn't mind whisking you into the sky for a romantic nightly stroll.” He winked, leaving Hongjoong's cheeks burning red. “This time we will use the door. It acts like a portal and this one will transport us right to our shop in Maeli.” 

Hongjoong stared up at the twisted symbol. The yellow one had led to the outskirts of the capital, the blue led to Maeli, so the black…

“What about the black one?” he mused aloud.

“That door is Hwa's portal,” Jongho offered. 

The new information piqued his interest even more. “Let me guess. No one is allowed in?” 

Hwa inserted the key into the lock, he turned back, leveling Hongjoong with liquid gold. “Now you're getting it." Then he pushed the door open.

Hongjoong's stomach twisted and he had to close his eyes against a new wave of nausea before he deemed himself well enough to go further into the shop.

The shop was not what he had pictured. It wasn't pristine and polished like the boutiques he passed in the square. Shelves were covered in a layer of dust and cobwebs hung in the corner of the walls. Scattered jars of mysterious ingredients were shoved into every available space, some of them tipped over, their contents spilled and crusted across the floor. The faint scent of stagnant air, mixed with the earthy musk of forgotten herbs clung to the place.

Hwa bypassed the mess entirely and drew the curtains, letting sunlight filter in. The light revealed just how much work needed to be done, casting shadows on the neglected corners and highlighting the disarray. 

“Mingi, didn't I ask you to clean last time we were here? Why does it look like a storm blew through without my knowledge?” He frowned when he picked up a book that had fallen to the floor and his hand came back covered in dirt. 

“I might have snuck in here to practice a spell and forgotten to clean up afterwards,” Mingi explained, shoulders raised up in defense. 

“Well, I do hope you had remembered the cleaning spell, because I want this place spic and span by the time I come back.” 

“Yes, Hwa,” Mingi sighed begrudgingly. Hwa ruffled his hair affectionately.

“Are you going to Maddox’s?” Jongho asked, taking the box from Mingi to set it down onto one of the vacant tables.

“Maddox has some intel I've been asking for so I will zip by and have a chat with him. Jongho is in charge while I'm away,” Hwa pulled his coat more firmly onto his shoulders and checked his reflection in the storefront window, tucking a misplaced loc behind his ear. “If you boys behave I might have a treat for you when I come back.” 

He leaned in, kissing both Jongho and Mingi on the cheek. When he stopped in front of Hongjoong, Hongjoong instinctively tensed, his shoulders stiff and breath caught in his throat. His eyes narrowed, watching Hwa carefully as if expecting him to enact the same behavior. If he did Hongjoong was ready to honestly bite the man. 

Unwanted advances were all treated the same, that or a swift kick to the balls when someone got too handsy for his liking.

But Hwa only smiled—soft and disarming, the kind that knocked something loose in Hongjoong’s chest, though he was quick to brush it away under the rug. He kept his guard up, even as Hwa turned and left without another word.

“You're younger than I am. I don't know why he doesn't trust me to run the shop on my own. I've been in training for over four years," Mingi grumbled after Hwa had left. 

"He’ll leave you in charge once you stop making messes and blowing up potions," Jongho remarked, patting Mingi's shoulder.

Mingi grumbled under his breath as he set to work casting simple cleaning spells around the shop.

The windows flung themselves open with a soft creak, allowing a breeze to filter in. Books drifted lazily, returning to their rightful places on the shelves. A broom and dustbin sprang to life from a cabinet, shuffling across the floor in synchronized sweeps. Hongjoong stepped aside as a sentient duster scuttled by, diligently wiping down tables and counters without missing a spot.

Magic, to the wizards, was a tool. An extension of their will that gave them shortcuts through life. They didn't need to toil. Didn’t need to lift a finger to accomplish tasks that would take a normal person hours. It was all done with a flick of the wrist, a word muttered under the breath. 

Dare say Hongjoong felt envious some days thinking what it would be like to have that power at his disposal. What would he do if he could simply command the world around him with the wave of a hand? Would he still be here, stuck in this situation? He definitely wouldn't have to pick pockets anymore, simply using his magic to bring in enough coins to tie the orphanage over and then some. Buy Yechan and Nari new clothes, get Aerum the medical care she needed. Mother wouldn't have wrinkles from stressing so much. Yunho wouldn't have to come home tired from patrolling the streets. He could quit his stupid job.

They worked most of the morning, Hongjoong taking quiet directions from the others when he didn't know the correct places for certain items. The shop was nearly cleaned by noon, the only thing left to do was sort out the items in the box they had brought with them.

At the entrance, Jongho hauled out a wooden sign that read Mars Magic Shop in curling gold lettering and propped it outside for passerbyers to see. 

“Mars? Like the planet?” Hongjoong asked, mouth moving before he thought better of it.

“Mars is one of many of Hwa's aliases,” Jongho said, flipping the open sign on the door. “A lot of people are looking for him, so when we go to new destinations he has to change his identity so people don't come around unwanted.”

“Like the Wicked Witch of the Waste. Just uttering her name gives me the creeps," Mingi shuddered. 

Hongjoong’s hands stilled where he was shining a cauldron. The Wicked Witch was after Hwa? What had he done to incur her wrath? Hwa had known at a glance that Hongjoong himself had been cursed by her. He couldn't help but think, was it from his own experience. Had he had his own run in with the Witch of the Waste that didn't fare well. 

“About the Witch of the Waste–," Hongjoong started.

The chime of a bell rang as a customer wandered into the store. An older lady having to be in her early forties carrying a woven basket with a small child trailing behind holding on to her skirts. 

Jongho walked around to the counter with a customer service smile upon his face. “Welcome to Mars Magic Shop, how may we be of service to you.” 

She pulled out a list from the basket, eyes squinting at the scrawled penmanship. “My husband sent me for a charm to help with his fishing. The man can't catch anything nowadays. He was adamant that we needed a wizard's help but I told him it was a waste of money.”  

Jongho's smile didn't falter at the blatant churlish comment. “You've come to the right place. Mars’ charms are known to bring in good fortune. Subtle but effective.”

The woman scoffed, adjusting her grip on the handle of her basket. “I’ll believe it when I see it. I swear, my husband thinks magic can solve everything. I told him hard work is what keeps a business running.”

Hongjoong, who had been idly stocking the shelf nearby watching the interaction, glanced over with mild discontent. He had believed the same once but now knew better of it. Hard work got you nowhere in this world. 

“Sometimes a little extra luck doesn’t hurt,” he remarked, eyes flicking to the child hiding behind her skirts. The small boy peeked at him with wide eyes.

The woman sighed, tucking the list back into her basket. “Luck won't get you anywhere when it doesn't bring food to the table to feed the little one.” She gave Jongho a pointed look. “I’m holding you to that. If it doesn’t bring fish jumping onto the boat by the end of the week, I’ll be back to demand a full refund and tell everyone I know this place is a scam.” 

Jongho dipped into a bow, but the tugging of his lips betrayed the lack of real courtesy behind it. “Fair enough. Let me fetch the charm for you. Mingi, can you get one of the prosperity pendants from the back shelf?”

Mingi disappeared in the back and returned with a stone wrapped in copper wiring offering it to the lady. “Take this and tell your husband to hang it up on one of his sails and you should see results quickly,” he instructed. 

Snatching it from his hands, the woman held the charm up to look at it judgingly. “It doesn't look like anything special,” she said snidely, but tucked it away into her basket anyway despite her words. 

“Come again,” Jongho called out as she paid and left dragging the child with her.

“She was rude," Mingi said. 

"People get like that when they’re desperate." Hongjoong set down a jar that was filled with something that resembled dust sprites that he's seen scuttling about in the dark alleyways. "She wouldn’t have come if she didn’t think it might actually work."

Mingi huffed, folding his arms as he leaned against the counter. "Doesn’t mean she has to act like we’re swindlers. Hwa’s charms do work.”

Jongho stretched, placing his elbow on the counter to prop his head up. “What can we do? You know how it is. Everyone wants miracles, but they’d rather not pay for them. She’ll be back, and when her husband suddenly catches more fish than he wouldn't know what to do with she'll probably claim it was due to his hard work and disregard the magical elements of the phenomenon all together.” 

Mingi sulked, but he said nothing more as he returned to working on the potion he had started brewing in the cauldron. 

Hongjoong silently agreed with Jongho’s sentiment. Still, he couldn’t entirely blame them. Magic was strange, unpredictable. Even he hadn’t fully wrapped his mind around it though he had been exposed to it time and time again. The way spells seemed to hum in the air or how Hwa’s presence could shift the energy in a room. It left him uneasy sometimes while on other occasions it set his nerves buzzing with a mixture of awe and thrill.

“Damnit.”  

“What are you working on?” Jongho asked Mingi who seemed to have stalled on his stirring, his expression betraying his confusion.

“I'm making a potion to help with sleep deprivation and good dreams but I seem to be missing something. I don't know what.” 

Hongjoong eyed the spellbook Mingi was holding. “You're missing blue lotus petals.” 

Mingi blinked in surprise checking the text again. “You're right. How did you–” 

“My friend is a wizard,” he supplied. “I used to help him with his potions and read spell books he had laying around when I got bored.”

Sleep Well. The name of the specific potion. He had Eden brew it for him plenty, when he would wake with pain so bad he couldn't get a wink of sleep. It was the only thing that knocked him out long enough so he could enjoy a few hours of comatose peace. 

"Looks like we're fresh out," Mingi murmured to himself, rummaging through the box of supplies next to the cauldron. "Guess I'll have to ask Hwa to purchase some more when he gets back.”

Just then the bell chimed. A couple of more customers came into the store rifling around the merchandise. 

“You don't have to wait for him, I’ll go get it,” Hongjoong offered, looking over at Mingi. He had been wanting an excuse to get fresh air, having only walked around the confines of the main part of the castle and his room for the past three days. Wooyoung had been pestering him about joining the others out on the deck but he had refused. And it wasn't because he was afraid of upchucking his meal! He just didn't want to risk a chance of San pushing him off the railings when given an open opportunity. 

“You and Jongho are busy, and there’s not much for me to do here.”

“But we can't go into town on our own.” Mingi said uneasily.

“What do you think is going to transpire? I'll get mugged? Please, I'll be safe.” Hongjoong scoffed, crossing his arms. “I’d like to see someone try.”

Mingi looked like he wanted to protest further but Jongho had called him over to help a customer who needed a brew to help with heartbreak. “ Fine. Here, this is the name of the cart that sells it and here are some coins. Are you sure it will be okay?” Mingi said, worrying his lip in between his teeth. 

“Hey, trust in your hyung. I'll be back before you know it.” He took the slip of paper and pocketed the coins, leaving before Mingi changed his mind.

 

 

💫

 

 

Hongjoong had seldom traveled beyond the borders of his hometown, save for the occasional excursion to the Capital in pursuit of amusement and a heavier coin pouch.

Maeli was a stark contrast to the capital. It was smaller, its narrow streets winding through a town that seemed to bear little resemblance to the bustling, polished metropolis Hongjoong had grown accustomed to. 

The people here were simpler, worn clothes—far from the pressed suits and lavish petticoats seen in the capital. The town lacked the kingdom's grandeur, yet it was still under the King's rule, a fact Hongjoong found particularly maddening.

The labor and resources that flowed from Maeli into the capital, from the port’s shipments to the supplies that fueled the kingdom’s wealth, seemed to go unnoticed. 

Regardless of Maeli’s contributions, it remained underdeveloped and largely ignored by the very kingdom it served. The roads, muddy and uneven, gave way to the occasional cart, the absence of cobblestone streets a reminder of the neglect. The shops here were small, their offerings less grand than those of the capital's boutiques, and the people, though hardworking, wore the exhaustion of their struggle on their sleeves.

Hongjoong couldn't shake the bitter thought that the King, in his grand palace, probably had no idea how much of his kingdom's fortune came from places like Maeli, nor did he seem to care. The people here worked tirelessly to supply Capital, but they saw little benefit in return. The inequality, the lack of appreciation for their contribution, it disgusted Hongjoong. It was another reminder of how the rich got richer while the poor were left to scrape by.

The cart Mingi had written down was parked at the side of the road, it's makeshift wooden stall brimming with a haphazard assortment of goods. Everything from dried herbs to fresh produce and even a selection of rare spices. 

The vendor, a stout man with a sun-weathered face, was hunched over as he arranged his wares. Hongjoong approached him, taking in the small bustle of the market around him, the sounds of bargaining filling the air.

“Good day. I’m looking for a specific herb—blue lotus petals.”

The vendor barely spared him a glance before nodding and moving around his collection to retrieve the herb. 

Hongjoong busied himself looking at the other stalls and carts around the market. A small teddy bear caught his attention on a nearby table, tucked between scarves and clay bowls. 

The sight of it tugged at something inside him, reminding him of Aerum. She had once carried around a stuffed bunny, nearly falling apart from constant love and use, her small hands clutching it as though it could protect her from anything. The memory brought a bittersweet pang to his chest.

He was just about to reach for the bear when a voice rang out piercing through the noise of the market.

“Thief!”

Hongjoong glanced around, trying to catch sight of the commotion, when a sudden yank wrenched his arm backwards, a sharp pain flaring through the socket.

A woman with disheveled hair and ratty clothing gripped his arm in an attempt to pull him away from the teddy bear. “This heathen tried to steal my goods! I caught him red-handed!”

Heat rose to Hongjoong’s face as his pulse thundered. He roughly jerked his arm free from her tight hold, stepping back with narrowed eyes, chest heaving. 

“How dare you,” he snapped, barely restraining the venom in his voice. “I did no such thing. I was merely looking. I don’t need to steal when I have the money to pay.” 

Besides if he wanted to steal he wouldn't have gotten caught like this, he was far too skilled in the art.

“That’s what they all say!” she spat, her bony finger stabbing the air toward him. “He’s a thief! Someone, help!”

Murmurs rippled through the crowd as curious onlookers started to gather, their expressions ranging from disinterest to suspicion. Hongjoong exhaled slowly through his nose, realizing this wasn’t going to be resolved quietly. He would have to run in case the military police were called. 

Did a small town like this even have military police stationed here?

The crowd pressed in closer, whispers swelling like an incoming tide. Tension coiled in Hongjoong’s muscles, his hands flexing at his sides as his eyes darted, searching for an escape. His pulse echoed in his ears, warping the voices of the crowd as he began to spiral. 

No, he needed to think, move. There was an easy plan if he could just think. 

Memories collided behind his eyes. Flashes of being a child. Relentless stares fixed upon him, condemning him.

He felt small. 

“Is there a problem here?” 

Hwa parted through the crowd standing between Hongjoong and the hysterical woman. He casted a glance at Hongjoong, expression questioning. 

Biting his tongue, Hongjoong resisted the urge to defend himself. He didn’t want to have to explain, shouldn't have to. Especially not to Hwa. 

Bad enough to be wrongfully blamed, but to have Hwa witness it felt like salt pressed into a wound. He knew his track record spoke louder than his words. Hwa probably wouldn’t believe him anyway. Hongjoong didn’t care to explain, didn’t care to know if Hwa was upset. Let him think whatever he wants.

The woman's face brightened with the idea that someone had come to her aid. “This lowly rat tried to sneak one past me but I caught him trying to take my wares.” The teddy bear was still clutched in her hands like Hongjoong was going to rip it away from her.

“Is that so?” he turned to look at Hongjoong eyes flashing. “Darling, what are you doing away from the shop?”

Hongjoong glared at Hwa, his cheeks flushed feeling like he was going to pop from the mixture of anger and humiliation. “The shop is out of blue lotus petals," he gritted out. He reached into his pocket and pushed the coins into Hwa's chest. “Get them yourself.” 

The coins scattered at their feet, clattering against the dirt in uneven rhythms. Hwa’s gaze followed them as they rolled to a stop, his expression an unreadable mask.

“Mr. Go?” 

The stout vendor came from behind the cart at the mention of his name. “Sir Mars, what do I owe the pleasure? I wasn't aware you had come back to town.” 

“Came this morning. But enough about me,” Hwa said, dismissing the pleasantries with a wave. His eyes flicked briefly to Hongjoong. “Mr. Go, this one here is under my patronage. I assume there’s been some misunderstanding.”

The vendor shifted uneasily, wringing his hands together. “A misunderstanding, sir? I—”

“I’d imagine so," Hwa’s tone stayed light, yet the quiet authority behind it pressed down like cold iron. “My associates tend to handle themselves with more... refinement. You can understand why I find this hard to believe.”

The woman lurched forward livid. “I saw him as bright as day!” 

Hwa’s lips curved into a faint smile, but there was no warmth behind it. “I’m afraid you’re mistaken. If he wanted the bear, I imagine he’d have paid for it already. After all—,” he gestured to the coins scattered below, “it seems he had every intention to.”

“You can't get away with this. I’ll call for the authorities,” she threatened. 

Hongjoong could feel the magic energy physically vibrating off of Hwa. The air around them was suffocating with it. 

Hwa’s gaze slid lazily over her, but he said nothing at first. He ran his tongue over his teeth in thought, and for the first time, Hongjoong noticed how his canines tapered to an unnatural point. A little too sharp. 

The woman’s confidence faltered, pailing as white as a sheet. 

“You’re welcome to try,” Hwa finally replied, his tone almost amused, daring her to do so. “But I’d advise against it. False accusations rarely end well.”Hwa turned his back to her in favor of addressing the stout vendor, whose face was already flushing with nervous energy. “Now, Mr. Go, about the blue lotus petals…”

“Yes sir, here you are,” the man hurriedly deposited the wrapped package into Hwa's awaiting hand to be swiftly done with the transaction.

Long ago, when Hongjoong was a child and still green when it came to lifting, he was caught a few times. The military police would let him go with a slap on the wrist but other times he was forced to hear comments of those who belittled him. 

Orphan. Gutter rat. Behavior fit for a child of squalor they'd say.A waste of their hard tax paying dollars. A child who didn't have parents to teach him right from wrong. An eyesore. 

Never had he had someone defend him. 

“Hongjoong, darling, let's go back to the shop,” Hwa said gently, reaching out for his hand.

“Don't tell me what to do,” Hongjoong growled, smacking his hand away.

Stalking off he didn't bother to wait to see if Hwa was trailing behind him. He walked and kept walking, expecting the sting of inferiority to fade with distance. Only for it to burrow deeper, like a splinter beneath his skin.

Upon reaching the familiar street where the shop stood, he finally spun on his heel. Fury consumed him, no longer able to reign in his own frustration. 

“I didn't need you to swoop in like some– some kind of savior. I could have handled it on my own without your interference. Do you know how belittling it is to have someone step in as if I'm helpless?! Does it make you feel good inside, all high and mighty to think you did a good deed helping someone who's beneath you?”

Being helpless got you nowhere in the world Hongjoong lived in. It was survival of the fittest since the day you were born. 

Climbing your way out of the dregs of society that made beggars out of boys. He would not beg,cry, nor ask for help. Hongjoong stood on his two feet and fought tooth and nail to hold his head above water. To earn his right to have the things that were due to him, even though he deserved so much more. So much.

The world never softened its corners for boys like him. Respite wasn’t a gift often given, and when it was, it came with strings that cut deeper than the struggle itself. 

Asking for help was no different than putting a knife in someone’s hand and turning your back. Every scar he bore, whether on his skin or his pride, was a testament to that truth. The only hands worth trusting wholeheartedly were his own stained in sin.

“I should have cursed her.” 

It was said so low that Hongjoong had to strain to hear Hwa speak under his breath. Hongjoong was so wrapped up in projecting knives to inflict damage that he didn't realize the way Hwa had become still, so still that he resembled a statue. He wasn't even paying Hongjoong any mind, staring off somewhere over Hongjoong's shoulder. 

“What?” 

Hongjoong's blood boiled like a tea kettle, overheating on a hot surface. Now, he was ignoring him like he wasn't even there? 

“Yah! I'm talking to you, you piece of shit.” he cursed vehemently, shoving Hwa in the chest. The push broke him out of whatever spell he was under, his eyes widening a fraction as they landed on Hongjoong, like he had forgotten that he was standing right in front of him. 

“I should have cursed her," he repeated more firmly. 

Hongjoong scoffed, rolling his eyes. “People like you really are a piece of work you know? Why? You think because you have power that you can do whatever you want. That any misconvenience to you you can wipe it away with magic. That's where you’re wrong. You can't just curse someone and condemn them to pain and suffering for something as small as that. You wouldn't be any different than the Witch of the Waste.” 

Hwa winced, pulling a face like he had tasted something bitter.“ I am nothing like that she-devil. My actions would be justified. She wrongfully accused you of a crime you didn't commit.” 

“Your actions wouldn't in any circumstances have been justified!” he practically yelled. It was like trying to teach a toddler morals. The difference between right and wrong. And Hongjoong was not an ept teacher when it came to this particular subject. 

“It wouldn't be the first time it's happened to me nor would it be the last. Plus, she's not wrong, I am a thief.” 

“Don't you feel wronged?”

Yes, every waking moment of his life he has felt wronged. He didn't need other people knowing and pointing it out.

“I could have handled it," he bit out.

“I will not stand by when someone hurts one of my beloveds.” 

Hongjoong clutched a hand over his stomach as if he was suckerpunched in his solarplexis, recoiling. “I'm not one of your beloveds and I'm not part of your charity crew. I made that clear.” 

The words rang out louder in the empty street than he had intended. There were no people walking about, no sounds of horses galloping or carts being pulled through the muck of the mud. The birds had also quieted in the perches of the branches. 

All he could hear was his heavy pants of anger and the deafening silence of Hwa who only stared at him with gold eyes that seemed to have dimmed in their brightness. 

Hwa suddenly straightened, all traces of imbalance gone, what was left behind was his normal veneer of calm. “Indeed you did. I'm sorry if I’ve overstepped.” 

Letting his mouth run ahead of his mind was going to get him in trouble. Hongjoong was prone to getting riled up too quickly instead of calming down and thinking. He could be level headed, but lost his wits when his anger got the best of him. He was being rash and lashing out towards the one man that held the key to his life. 

Hongjoong huffed scrubbing a leather cladded hand through his messy red locs. He was pretty sure the strands were sticking up weirdly now, but he couldn't summon enough energy to quite care about his appearance at the moment. 

“It's fine.” The adrenaline in his body petered out of his system and now he was just…tired.

They left it at that. 

There weren't any customers when they entered the shop, it being late afternoon. Jongho and Mingi were in the middle of some sort of game involving throwing a ball at Mingi's face.The ball landed smack into his forehead, bouncing off and onto the floor where it rolled towards Hongjoong's feet. 

“Ow! You didn't have to throw it so hard," Mingi whined, rubbing the reddening spot.

“You won't learn unless it hurts,” Jongho snorted.

“Boys, is there a reason why you're assaulting each other?” Hwa asked, bringing in the sign from outside. 

Jongho came from around the counter taking the sign from Hwa to stash it behind the shelf. “I’m helping Mingi hyung heighten his reaction time for magic,” he explained matter-of-factly. “If he can’t dodge or counter something as simple as a ball, how’s he going to manage a spell under pressure?”

“Ah I see,” Hwa paused, thinking. “That's actually a clever way to help him improve. Carry on then.” 

Hongjoong picked the ball off the floor wincing as his hands wrapped around it, his pain was flaring up again and he was too exhausted to ignore it. 

“I'm going to bed.” he stated to no one in particular, giving the ball to Mingi. 

“Already? It’s only five,” Mingi said, his concern clear. “What about the petals?”

“Hwa has them,” Hongjoong replied curtly, turning away.

“What about dinner?”

“I’m skipping.”

“You can’t skip dinner. Hwa will blow his gasket,” Mingi warned, his eyes darting nervously between Hongjoong and Hwa, as though bracing for a confrontation.

Too bad for him, Hongjoong thought. The fight had already happened, and he wasn’t interested in round two.

Hongjoong turned to look at Hwa who was already watching him, expression blank. “Do you mind if I skip dinner to go rest?” he asked impatiently. Hongjoong gripped his arm as a sharp pain traveled up. He exhaled slowly counting the seconds for it to subside.

Hwa lowered his head a fraction, eyes dropping to the floor. It was the first time he had ever seen Hwa break eye contact with him first. 

Good, he thought bitterly. Served him right to feel guilty for his actions. 

“Go ahead. You must be tired. I'll set a few dishes aside for you if you grow hungry later.” 

“Thank you,” he muttered.

The door appeared without having to be asked. He turned the knob and walked through, ending up in the living room once more. He walked past the others lounging around on the sofa and made a beeline for his room before Wooyoung could start pelting him with one hundred questions.

Sitting on the edge of the bed, Hongjoong kicked off his boots with little care. His mind wandered off as he climbed onto the bed. Hongjoong didn't bother changing into his night clothes. He lay on top of the blankets and stared up at the ceiling. 

Seconds stretched into minutes as he remained still, lost in thought. Minutes blurred into hours. The sun sank into the burning ocean and gave way to twinkling stars outside his window. He still didn't move except for the rise and fall of his chest. No one came and knocked on his door for dinner.

He was left alone. 

When he grew tired of even his own thoughts he leaned over to switch the lamp off but froze mid-motion.

A teddy bear was sitting up against the lamp, beady button eyes fixed on him. 

It was the same bear from the market. The one he was going to buy. 

Hongjoong frowned, drawing back his hand. 

How did it get in his room? He had been awake the whole time and the others hadn't come in. 

His thoughts flashed to Hwa who was so adamant about cursing the vendor woman. Hwa who had defended him and threatened another for his sake. Who kept thinking of him as one of his loved ones when he had done nothing to warrant such a title.He had been part of the crew for less than a week! It wasn’t enough time to earn such devotion. Hwa was a peculiar fellow that Hongjoong couldn't read and that irked him to no end. 

This must be his way of apologizing. Hongjoong scoffed at the audacity of the gesture, feeling irritated all over again at the man.

But…

Gold eyes kept appearing behind his own, the ones like bright stars, dimming as if their light was fading, faltering. 

It wasn’t his fault, he kept repeating. None of this was. Hwa was reckless and stubborn, a man who acted without permission or reason. It wasn’t Hongjoong’s responsibility to understand him. 

And yet…

Hongjoong reached out for the teddy bear and cradled it to his chest. The fur tickled the side of his face as he curled up on the mattress. 

The springs didn't even cut into his skin like they should have if it had been his old mattress.

He hated Hwa. 

Hated him because he had to rely on him. And Hongjoong would rather throw himself into the sea than depend on another person.

“I will not stand by when someone hurts one of my beloveds.”

“I'm not one of your beloveds and I'm not part of your charity crew. I made that clear.” 

His stomach churned, heavy as if filled with lead. A sick, twisting sensation rose within him, knotting his insides.

No one had ever stood by him before other than his family. No one but Hwa. And it made him feel more helpless than he had ever been. 

He clutched the bear closer to his chest and willed himself to stop thinking long enough to sleep.

 

 

 

Notes:

Hongjoong just let him love you!!!!!

Chapter 4: Better Left in the Dark

Summary:

Hey guys!

Here is the next chapter. If there are any errors I apologize I'm exhausted and want to post this a bit early because I'm busy tomorrow. But I will reread this after I'm done and edit.

Happy reading Atiny!

💫

 

 

Hongjoong threw himself into his work over the next several days, hoping to rid himself of the stones that rested in the bottom of his stomach. 

In doing so he quickly adjusted to the rhythm of the magic shop. Tending to customers came naturally to him. It was no different from charming the men and women he once deceived, slipping their valuables right out from under their noses.Except now, instead of stealing, he was doing the opposite. Persuading them to buy.

“We're receiving a lot of customers today.” Jongho said after ringing up another person.

“We already sold out of the Lure of Prosperity charms.” Hongjoong replied, staring down at the empty box that was full to the brim just that morning. 

“Welcome to Mars Magic Shop,” Mingi called out as the ringing of the bell signaled the arrival of yet another customer. 

The fisherman's wife that visited earlier in the week strolled in again with her basket and small child attached to her hip. Gone was the disgruntled look, in its place was the face of someone who looked like the happiest being on earth.

“I suppose you aren't here for a refund.” Jongho remarked. 

The woman gasped exasperatedly. “Oh heavens no you gentlemen literally saved my household. After my husband hung up that charm of yours he said fish started jumping onto the boat in stroves. I can't thank you boys enough. I spread the word around town and let everyone know about your little shop of miracles.”

“They aren't miracles, it's magic," Mingi muttered.

The woman waved him off. “Yes, yes,magic. Any whom, to show my gratitude I brought this basket of baked goods to show how grateful I am.” She heaved the basket onto the counter and drew back the covering to reveal the tarts, cookies, and freshly baked bread.

Mingi quickly recovered from his sulking and scampered over to the counter to peer into the basket, eyes sparkling with hunger. “You shouldn't have!” 

While they were talking the child wandered off to peruse around the shop. Currently he was admiring an amethyst stone that was at eye level on one of the medium shelves, their deep purple hues catching the light from the windows. 

The child’s fingers hovered for a moment over the piece, before his hand darted to one of the stones. Without hesitation, he slipped it into his pocket.

Hongjoong sighed, wishing he hadn't seen it. His sharp eyes tracked the boy as he scurried back to his mother, the telltale bulge of the amethyst barely concealed in his small pocket.

Kids, he thought, suppressing the urge to sigh again. They were always testing the boundaries, always thinking no one would notice. He would know. He was one of the worst.

Part of him wanted to just let it go. It was only a stone after all, but it wasn't his shop, and it wasn't his merch.

Also, ethics and all that jazz. 

Still, he hesitated rolling his lips between his teeth. The boy’s mother seemed genuine, her face alight with pride and gratitude as she handed over the basket of baked goods. She likely had no idea what her son had just done. 

How would she react if she knew what her child had done? 

Hongjoong made his decision. Strolling over casually he crouched down as though adjusting the laces of his boot. Deft fingers slipped into the boy's pocket when he was preoccupied, retrieving the amethyst stone without so much as a whisper of movement. The polished surface of the gem nestled into his palm before he discreetly transferred it to his own pocket in one seamless motion.

As he rose to his full height, his hand brushed the countertop, retrieving a piece of candy from the dish kept there for customers. With a calculated flick of his wrist, he tucked the sweet into the boy’s pocket in place of the stolen stone, ensuring the shift appeared entirely unremarkable.

Satisfied, Hongjoong straightened, his expression unreadable, though the faintest trace of amusement flickered behind his eyes.

The woman finished her conversation with Jongho, whose expression remained strained, as though he would rather be anywhere else.

“Thank you again. Come along, Sunwoo,” she called, beckoning her son.

The boy shuffled after her, his hand patting his pocket absentmindedly. Suddenly, he stopped in his tracks, an exclamation of surprise escaping him as he pulled out the piece of candy.

Wide-eyed, he glanced back and locked eyes with Hongjoong, who raised a finger to his lips in a silent gesture for discretion. “Have a magical day,” Hongjoong said with a knowing smile playing on his lips.

Sunwoo’s cheeks flushed a vivid red, and he gave a quick nod before scampering after his mother, who was waiting just outside the shop tapping her feet.

“I thought she would never leave," Jongho said, watching the two walk down the street. 

“Hey at least we got free bread out of it," Mingi grinned, checking the contents of the basket again. 

“Why don't you take it inside so we can share it with the others later,” Jongho provided.

“Anything so I don't have to work at the cauldron. My arms are tired from stirring all day.” 

“Work isn't finished, you know you have to come back right?” 

“Sorry, I can't hear you,” Mingi laughed, disappearing behind the maroon door with the basket in tow.

Jongho rolled his eyes. “Idiot.”

A few seconds pass with them working silently before Jongho speaks again, shifting his attention to Hongjoong. “That was nice of you.”

Hongjoong kept his focus on the counter, his movements measured and deliberate as he wiped down the elixir shelf. 

“I don't know what you mean.” 

“That little act of yours,” Jongho replied, ignoring Hongjoong's attempt at deflection. “The switch with the candy. It was subtle, but I saw it.”

Hongjoong folded the rag and placed it in the cubby beneath the register. He straightened and finally met Jongho’s gaze, his expression blank. “The kid didn’t need to start his life learning bad habits. Thought I’d fix the problem before it became one,” he confessed. 

Jongho studied him openly. “You’re quick to fix a problem that isn't even yours.”

“Maybe I just don’t like messes,” Hongjoong replied evenly. He should have just been smart and turned the other cheek, feign ignorance and minded his own business. 

“Maybe. Or maybe you’re not the problem you think people see you as.”

Being in a house surrounded by six others one could never find a person in the castle without another being at least two feet apart. Which in itself was a feat when the castle seemed to have so many places to venture and get lost in.

That meant that Hongjoong seldom spent time alone with Hwa's cursed crew separately. Nor did he know much about them personally. He still didn't know of the details of the others' curses and he couldn't ask himself lest they choked on their own explanations.

So he had to observe and collect snippets here and there about each one. And the thing that Hongjoong had learned about Jongho from working alongside him for a few days was that he was a straight-forward person. The kind of character that didn't beat around the bush and said what he wanted, offering little care for how his words might land. In fact, Hongjoong found it a little intimidating. 

He usually appreciated people like him.

But not in this moment when it felt like Jongho was trying to pry into something he had no business in. 

“Don't try to psychoanalyze me.” 

“Psychoanalyze? I'm just stating the obvious.” Kids these days really had no respect for their elders.  

“Well, don't.” Hongjoong wondered when Mingi was going to come back so Jongho would pester him instead. 

The door to the shop banged open, the bell ringing shrilly distracting Jongho from further grilling him.

Small mercies. 

Hwa swept into the shop like a storm.His face was passive not even acknowledging them, eyes darting around the shop as if he was looking for something.

He usually left early in the morning to discuss something in secret with the mysterious man named Maddox, only returning once the sun had set and the shop was closing for the day. Dinner was the only time Hongjoong got to see him lately. 

Ever since their little argument days ago Hwa had become reserved in his interactions with Hongjoong. Barely even sparing him a glance when he walked into a room. 

Not that Hongjoong was about to break the silence of his own accord. His resentment toward the wizard still simmered, unresolved.

He hadn't mentioned the teddy bear, and Hwa never admitted to putting it in Hongjoong's room. So Hongjoong continued the pretense. Acting as if the gift had never existed as it resided on the side table near his bed.

He didn't know what he hated more, Hwa's tentative attention towards him or Hwa out right overlooking his presence in the house entirely. 

It shouldn't bother him as much as it did.

But it did. 

And he couldn't stop the way he felt like a door was being slammed in his face when Hwa didn't meet his eyes. When he didn't throw a flirty remark in his direction. 

Hongjoong was growing more frustrated with himself for even feeling a type of way about the whole thing when that's what he wanted in the first place. To be left alone. 

That's what he wanted, right? He was only doing what he had asked of him. For Hwa to not care and leave Hongjoong until his curse was broken.

“Close the shop for the day.” 

Jongho blinked, registering the order."It’s barely past midday." Confusion laced his voice, but Hwa didn’t so much as acknowledge the remark.

His gaze remained fixed beyond them. Locked onto the maroon door at the back of the shop. His expression didn't give away what he was thinking, save for the grimace that flickered across his lips. Whatever thoughts turned over in his mind, he kept them to himself.

"Close it," he repeated. Tone cool, a degree shy of icy. Then, without another word, he swept past them and disappeared into the castle.

Over dramatic much?

“He's in a mood. That's not good," Jongho exhaled sharply, flipping the sign to announce their early closure. “ He must have gotten some bad news.”

To have spoken to Jongho without a lick of fondness. It must have been terrible news. He's never heard Hwa speak to any of his crew without care sewed in his words.

They wasted no time ushering out the remaining customers, murmuring polite apologies and assurances that the shop would reopen the following day.

Once the last person stepped out, Jongho gave a final glance toward the now-empty store before he and Hongjoong warped into the castle.

The sudden shift in space made Hongjoong’s stomach lurch, but the dizziness was far less jarring this time. Warping was getting easier.

Near the hearth, Wooyoung lounged on the rug, watching the fire crackle with a sinister grin.“Hwa is in a mood,” he said gleefully, which was quite the opposite of Jongho’s earlier reaction.

“And you're happy because…?” Hongjoong asked, pretty sure he wasn't going to like the answer. 

Wooyoung leaned back on his palms, tilting his head to look up at Hongjoong. His eyes gleamed red with mischief, tongue darting out to lick his lips. “He tastes sweeter when he's in a mood.” 

Jongho grimaced. “Keep your kinks to yourself, Wooyoung. No one wants to hear them.”

Wooyoung whined like a spoiled child denied his favorite indulgence. With a dramatic sigh, he flopped onto his back, sprawling across the rug in exaggerated despair. 

“I’m so bored lately. No one wants to play with me. Especially Hwa—he’s been so preoccupied. And upset.” He dragged out the last word, letting it hang in the air before cutting his gaze pointedly to Hongjoong. “Because someone hurt his feelings.”

Hongjoong scoffed, incredulous. “Who, me?”

“Yes, you," Wooyoung huffed, propping himself up on his elbows.

Hurt his feelings? Hwa was a grown man, a powerful wizard, no less. There was no way he was sulking over their argument. Especially when he was the one blatantly avoiding Hongjoong!

“I didn’t do anything,” he contested, crossing his arms over his chest. 

Wooyoung’s lips curled into a knowing smirk, as if he could see straight through Hongjoong’s act. “You must have. He’s been pouting in his library every night and hasn’t come to bed. I suggest you fix it soon before I start getting antsy. I don’t like sleeping alone. I get cold easily.” He stretched languidly, making a show of it.

Hongjoong had a vague understanding of the relationships in this house, but he never bothered to examine them too closely. Now, watching Wooyoung drape himself across the rug, he couldn’t help but think—Hwa really had himself a little harem, didn’t he? Was he jealous…a little.

“You’re literally a celestial fire demon. You don’t get cold,” Jongho said flatly, tired of Wooyoung's antics.

Hongjoong’s head jerked up at the word choice, a flicker of realization sparking in his mind. Hwa had called him that before, a demon, but he’d dismissed it as nothing more than a pet name, something playful or teasing. He had never considered the possibility that Hwa had meant it in earnest.

“Demon?” he echoed in disbelief.

“Dammit Jongho,” Wooyoung huffed in annoyance. “You're no fun. I was gonna keep it a secret for a while longer.”

“Sorry. Didn’t know it was supposed to be a secret,” Jongho replied in a tone that made it obvious he did—he just didn’t care.

Demons were nothing more than cautionary myths, bedtime stories spun to frighten misbehaving children into obedience. Mother Hyo-jin, ever the saint, even in her gentler moments, had whispered tales of the ancient creatures that once prowled the earth, leaving ruin in their wake.

The celestial fire demons had been the most fearsome of them all. Apex predators whose very presence spelled catastrophe. With flames that could turn mountains to ash and shadows that devoured the light, they had ruled over the magical denizens of the land, unchallenged and unrelenting.

But they were extinct. Wiped from existence centuries ago, hunted to their last ember by the great witch under the first king’s patronage. Their downfall had marked the dawn of the first kingdom, an era where magic was tamed and order restored.

At least, that’s what the legends claimed.

“You said you were all cursed," Hongjoong glanced at Wooyoung, who was watching him with a lazy smile.

“I am cursed. Cursed to look this good,” he quipped, giggling as if he had just told the wittiest joke in the world.

Hongjoong should have pieced it together sooner. The way Wooyoung wielded fire so effortlessly. It wasn’t a burden, wasn’t the kind of curse that weighed a person down. It was something else entirely. Something innate. 

“Aw, don't tell me you're scared of me now?” Wooyoung chuckled.

“No. Nothing about you is scary at all,” Hongjoong shot back defiantly.

“Good,” he hummed in thought. Eyes glinting, Wooyoung pushed himself up from the floor, sauntering over to where he and Jongho stood. “Hey, hyung, you’ll play with me, won’t you?” Wooyoung asked.

Hongjoong stiffened the moment Wooyoung’s hands landed on his chest. 

“Ever thought about bedding a celestial?” he murmured low, voice dipping into something sultry, sending an unwelcome shiver down Hongjoong’s spine.

He found himself staring into those wild, blazing red eyes. Caught in their pull like a moth to a flame unbeknownst to its fate. 

Face to face with a celestial demon, maybe even the last one in existence. Hongjoong's life was becoming full of surprises. He never imagined he would meet one in the flesh, and so different from the illustrations he grew up seeing. 

They were pictured as towering, ethereal beings wreathed in roaring flames, with molten crimson eyes that burned straight through the soul. Their bodies, sculpted from obsidian and streaked with veins of fire, pulsed with an otherworldly heat, their clawed hands capable of reducing anything they touched to ash.

Wooyoung—

Wooyoung was obsidian hair and smooth olive skin, a study in contrasts. He was delicate yet edged with sharpness, honeyed in demeanor but smoldering with an untamed fire when he set his sights on something.

And his sights were set on Hongjoong.

The warmth of Wooyoung’s touch dulled the ever-present ache that coursed through his body. Seeping into his skin like a slow-burning ember. His head felt hazy. The edges of his thoughts softening, untethering, as if he were being lulled into a dream.

And it felt... nice.

Would it be so bad to let himself be wrapped around Wooyoung’s finger like the rest? He was beautiful. And Hongjoong had never been the type to turn down something pretty when it was offered to him.

His lips parted, an answer lingering on the tip of his tongue—

A loud scoff cut through the moment, shattering the spell.

“Careful scoundrel or he'll burn you faster than the curse of yours can kill you," San’s voice rang out, his figure appearing at the top of the stairs, followed closely by Hwa. 

“Lucky for him my fire doesn't burn him,” Wooyoung said with a hint of mixed awe and amazement.

“Wooyoung,” Hwa warned. “Rule number four. No deals.” 

Wooyoung’s grin deepened as he turned his gaze back to Hongjoong, desire wonderfully dancing in his eyes. “It’s not a deal if he’s willing. Right, Hongjoong hyung?”

Hongjoong’s attention slowly drifted to behind Wooyoung as if he was coming out of a stupor. Foggy and sweet.

Hwa stood at the bottom of the stairwell, hair pushed back from his face, wet like he had just gotten out of the shower. His blouse hung loosely. Low at the collarbones, exposing smooth skin beneath. Something dark peeked through the neckline. A glimpse of ink. A hidden tattoo that he hadn't detected before?

The sight stirred up his anger seeing the wizard all over again. Sulking my ass. He looked perfectly fine to him.

He made it a point to look Hwa directly in the eyes. Head on. His hand slipped between Wooyoung and his body to grasp his hand that was still resting on his chest. 

Don't look away, he commanded, boring into liquid gold.

“Right, my love,” he drawled. “I know how much you despise the cold, so next time you're left alone, don’t hesitate to knock on my door.” Raising Wooyoung's hand to his lips he pressed a soft kiss to his olive skin, never breaking eye contact with Hwa. “I’ll make sure to keep you warm.”

Hwa didn’t blink, didn't react at all at first. He simply watched. Gaze locked onto Hongjoong with an unreadable intensity. His lips parted slightly, as if caught between words, but none came. 

Then, slowly, his head tilted, the movement deliberate, eyes narrowing. The corner of his mouth twitched, though whether it was amusement or irritation was impossible to tell. 

He then turned his head and looked away.

Hongjoong clicked his tongue in discontent. Fucking coward.

“Jongho,” Hwa called. “Go gather Mingi and tell him to cease his tinkering with his gadgets for one second. We’re having a meeting about a rather pressing matter.” 

“Thank the gods.I’ve endured enough of this,” Jongho muttered, stepping past them for the stairs. “Mingi owes me five gold coins. Hongjoong lasted longer than a week against Wooyoung so I won our little bet.”

Hwa sank onto the armchair, exhaling slowly as he closed his eyes. His posture was deceptively relaxed, but the tension still clung to him, a storm held at bay beneath the surface.

Wooyoung made to follow, but before he could take a step, Hongjoong tightened his grip on his hand, tugging him back.

He arched a brow, amused as he leaned in. “Oh? Having second thoughts, hyung?”

Hongjoong angled his head slightly, lips almost brushing the shell of Wooyoung's ear, voice low as he murmured, “I don’t appreciate being put under a spell. Don’t let it happen again.”

Wooyoung’s smile never left his face even in lue of the small threat. “Then you better fix things with Hwa.” With a playful wink, he slipped from Hongjoong’s grasp and sauntered toward the couch.

Sliding onto Hwa’s lap, not caring or considering the slight temper Hwa was in, Wooyoung draped himself over him like he belonged there, resembling a decorative piece, added to Hwa's outfit to enhance his appeal. Hwa’s arm instinctively wrapped around his waist, securing him in place, not even bothering to open his eyes.

San, who had been watching the entire exchange with a pointed gaze said, “You’re playing a dangerous game.” His glare was nothing short of lethal.

Hongjoong shrugged. Unfazed, he casually selected an empty seat on the sofa and crossed one leg over the other.“ You should be aware already I don't know how to play any other kind.” 

 

 

💫

 

 

Hongjoong struck the base of the tree like crow's nest with the tip of his boot, the sharp sting radiating up his toes for a fleeting moment before it was swallowed by the deeper, omnipresent ache of his body.

“Your presence isn't needed.”

Hongjoong’s eyes narrowed as he stumbled slightly from the shove barring his entrance to the meeting room.“What?” 

“You heard me. This meeting is private so why don't you run along and busy yourself with your own devices.” San looked down at him, a picture of smugness painting his face. Corners rising and dimples popping in sheer amusement as Hongjoong seethed from the mistreatment. 

“Oh, and while you're at it—choke.” 

And as if to add insult to injury, San slammed the door in his face. Hongjoong barely managing to jerk his head back before his nose collided against the damn thing. And now,he was left outside on the deck with a bruised ego and bruised toes.  

"Bastard!" Hongjoong shouted at the door, if only for the fleeting satisfaction it gave him.

They were discussing something behind closed doors, deliberately keeping him out of it. The thought of it stoked something ugly inside him, a familiar burn of indignation crawling up his throat.

What could be so important that he wasn’t allowed to hear?

If they thought a mere closed door was going to deter him then they were sorely mistaken by Hongjoong's ability to do whatever the fuck he wanted. Especially when being told he wasn't allowed to do something. A persistent pain in the ass he was. 

Determination settling in his bones, Hongjoong cast a glance around, scanning the ship as a whole for an alternative way inside. 

The air was chilled, the distant crash of waves the only sound accompanying his movements as he prowled along, footsteps light as a whisper. Hwa's castle appeared even more ominous and imposing as he walked on the deck. He regretted not accepting one of their earlier offers for a tour when he first arrived, but again, he hadn’t wanted to risk being hurled from five thousand feet in the air by a conniving San.

Navigating the ship’s layout without guidance, he’d only recently started venturing onto the outer deck to soak in the last rays of sun before heading inside for dinner.Exhaustion from taxing work hours had sapped his drive to explore further.

There. 

A small window. 

Crouching down, Hongjoong flattened himself against the wood, his body folding in on itself to fit into the tight space. The window was tucked into a corner. Right below the stairs that led up to the upper deck. The glass was opaque, warped by age and salt. Voices filtered through clearly enough for him to try and make out the conversations. He pressed in closer, straining to catch every syllable. 

Left to his own devices— ha! 

If they wanted to keep secrets from him, they’d have to try a hell of a lot harder. 

“It's started.” 

The words hit like a pin in an enclosed space. Around the table, muddled faces wavered. He could imagine by the silence that they weren't too happy about the topic.

“When?” San is the one to ask. His large form was standing, not sitting like the others. His arms were crossed, defensiveness in his posture as he looked toward the head of the table.

Even through the opaque glass Hongjoong could make out the muted glow of Hwa’s eyes. Gold in comparison to a mere wick of a candle's light. 

“Two days ago Maddox received intel from one of his informants. The neighboring kingdom's army broke through Fort Heina. They successfully seized the fort and killed the general who oversaw it. The fortress has fallen and now the army is headed this way.”

Hongjoong leaned back slightly, fingers curling around the wood frame of the window. 

Why wonder San didnt want him anywhere near the meeting.Up until now, Hongjoong thought Hwa was just running from conscription, but no ordinary fugitive had a spy in the enemy’s ranks. No, this was something else.

They had connections. Resources. Information flowing in from within the very walls of the kingdom itself.

And for someone who supposedly wanted nothing to do with the war, Hwa seemed remarkably informed about it.

A creaking sound from above catches his attention, his muscles locking and tensing as the sound moved overhead.He risks a glance and finds Yeosang peering through the slats of the staircase, watching him intently. 

For all his luck— why wasn't Yeosang among the others in the meeting? Then he remembers that Hwa hadn't asked anyone to fetch Yeosang for whatever they were conversing in this ‘important’ meeting of theirs. 

“What are you doing?” Yeosang signed, coming down the rest of the way.

Hongjoong grabbed a fist full of clothing as soon as he was near enough, dragging him down by the front of his shirt and swiftly clamping a hand over his mouth. Loose lips were his greatest annoyance. The last thing he needed was to be exposed just as the crucial intel started trickling in.

“Not a sound, lest you want both of us to get caught,” he whispered harshly.

Yeosang leveled him with the kind of look that needed no words to convey his exasperation. He pried Hongjoong's hand from his mouth, disgruntled. “I’m mute Hongjoong. What noise will I be making pray tell?” 

“Ah, right.Sorry. Just—," Hongjoong made a vague, dismissive gesture and left it at that, having forgotten that Yeosang was indeed mute and couldn't speak in the first place. 

“And what of the spy?” San said. 

“ Killed.” Another pin dropping. “He lost his life giving us the information.” 

“This was quicker than we'd anticipated.” 

“What do you want to do now?” Mingi said. “We can stick around here for a while longer right?”

“I'm afraid not.” Hwa pulls out something. It's white and rectangular-shaped. Parchment. A letter. He unfolds it and places it onto the table. They all crane their necks inward to read what's on it. 

“Shit,” Jongho cursed quietly. “That was the last alias Seonghwa.” 

Must have been another compulsory enlistment notice, this one addressed to the alias Mars. Did that mean that all of Hwa's aliases had received similar notices? 

“Then we're just gonna have to speed things up then,” Wooyoung supplied.

Jongho shook his head.“The plan isn't nearly ready yet.”

Mingi ran a hand through his hair, visibly frustrated. “We’ve spent years scouring every town and still haven’t found the key.”

The conversation was veering off in another direction.

A plan? Plan for what? What was this meeting even about?He turned to Yeosang, who was chewing on his lip, brows knitted in concern.

Hongjoong nudged his shoulder. Yeosang jolted slightly before shaking his head, eyes still fixed on the window.

“Do you know what they're talking about?” His fingers moved swiftly. “What of a plan?” 

Yeosang hesitated, absentmindedly picking his thumb damn near to bleeding. “I don't know much,” he started, eyes trained on the wooden boards beneath them. “For as long as I have been on this ship I've never been a part of these meetings. Same as you.”

“So they don't trust newcomers,” Hongjoong pieced together. 

“That's not it! Hwa has his reasons,” Yeosang tried to defend, but it was falling on deaf ears. Hongjoong was already standing, dragging an unwilling Yeosang with him.

“Let’s just ask ourselves then, hm?” Hongjoong muttered sharply, foregoing signing to keep quiet. If he wanted answers, why not get them straight from the horse’s mouth? No more guessing, no more half-truths. Hongjoong liked getting straight to the point. 

Yeosang pulled his arm free to sign his apprehension. “Did you forget the door is locked? It won't open until the meeting finishes.”

Hongjoong scowled. “Of course it is. Wouldn't want outsiders knowing too much right?” 

“Why don't we just leave it alone and we can go up to the crows nest and play a round of cards?” Yeosang signed, trying to dissuade Hongjoong from making a bad decision. Yet, Hongjoong was flipping his switchblade out from its sheath in his boot.

Upon seeing the blade Yeosang backed away, eyes widening. “Was that hiding in your boot the whole time?” 

“Yes, I never leave home without it.” He threw a smile over his shoulder as he studied the mechanics of the door knob. “Let me guess some kind of magic seal? Maybe it only opens if you pledge your undying loyalty,” he rolled his eyes at the absurdity of it. “What do I need to do, ask nicely?” He pointed the blade at the door, “ Oh, mighty ship, grant me access lest you want a chink in your mahogany," he said sarcastically.

A soft click echoed on the deck, audible through the sound of the waves. 

Hongjoong froze, not believing his ears. Looking at Yeosang proved that what he heard wasn't just his imagination. 

The door creaked open on its own, creeping as if it was an invitation inside.

“Huh, can't believe that actually worked. Not gonna lie, that's both convenient and deeply unsettling.” He turned to Yeosang who looked as if he'd seen a ghost. “The place is alive isn't it?” 

Yeosang only jerked his head in a barely there nod. 

“Welp, I'll shine the floorboards real nice for you later as thanks,” he said to the ship at large. 

San was already striding towards them when Hongjoong came barging in, switchblade swinging as he passed it through his fingers expertly. A delighted smirk spread on his face seeing San's blatant shock.

“Missed me?” 

San recovered quickly and tried to go for the blade. Hongjoong simply skirted out the way tutting. “Stand down soldier. We only came in to enjoy the sweets. Afraid you've eaten them all through that blackhole you call a mouth.” He snatched a chocolate croissant off the top of the basket and took a seat right next to dear old Hwa. 

There were a variety of different expressions going around the room. Hongjoong did cause that kind of reaction. 

“Come sit Yeosang,” he beckoned. “They have your favorite muffins as well.” Yeosang, the poor fellow, stayed where he was by the door looking scared shitless.

Hongjoong shrugged, not bothered. More for him than he supposed. 

In one fluid motion he bit into the croissant and tasted the sweet chocolate filling his mouth. 

Wow, he was hungry. 

The croissant was gone in less than three bites. Hongjoong had left over chocolate dusting the tips of his fingers when the treat was demolished. Taking care, he lifted each one to his mouth and sucked the digit clean, not being one to have table manners. 

Holes were being burned into the side of his face from the intensity of a stare directed from his left. Hongjoong would be terribly mistaken if he confused the look of hunger iself in Hwa's golden eyes. 

A hand around his wrist abruptly pulled his fingers out of his mouth, right when he had just gotten to the thumb.

“Truly Hongjoong,” Hwa murmured, voice a rougher than usual, like the fiery burn of bourbon ran down his throat instead of the sweet sticky taste of chocolate. “You will be the death of me.” 

“Careful Hwa," he said, taking his wrist back. “I bite.” 

“What the fuck are you doing here?” San growled, clearly not at all happy. 

Right. He was here for a reason. 

He reached for a muffin next since it looked like Yeosang wouldn't be having any for himself. “Oh, don't mind me. Carry on with your talks of treason. Like I said, I'm only here for the snacks.”

“You don't know what you're talking about,” San said harshly.

Honjoong turned the muffin over in his hand, eyeing the blueberries hidden in between the fluff.

“You're right. Sorry, I forgot that you guys run a tight circle around here. Wouldn't want the wrong people to hear your secret plans of conspiracy against the crown.”

That wasn't good. A vein was popping from San's neck from how hard he was clenching his teeth. 

“I do have a few questions of my own if you don't mind me asking.” 

This was directed at Hwa. He didn’t seem nearly as bothered as San was. Perhaps he was concealing it better, or maybe he just clearly found the whole thing entertaining—like Wooyoung, who was trying, but failing, to rein in his amusement of the affair. 

“Ask away,” he said, waving his hand to indicate he had the floor.

“Alright, humor me,” he started. “From what I gathered—” 

“You mean what you heard while eavesdropping,” San cut in. 

Tomato, potato. It was all about perspective.

“You're trying to get rid of the King, am I right? Don't worry,” he said when Mingi paled at the words. “I'm not the kind to rat someone out for their hatred of the King. As you might guess I'm not a fan of how he runs things either.”

“Yes, but that's only part of the plan,” Hwa said. 

Hongjoong already knew this. “The other part I'm guessing you won't be telling me?” The part where they were looking for some sort of key. 

Hwa didn't answer, which was an answer in itself, so he continued, telling himself that he would bring it up later since this was more important. 

“I'll just cut to the chase then. Once you remove the King what will happen next?” 

“Replace him obviously,” Wooyoung replied. 

“With whom do you have in mind? The prince?” 

Wooyoung opened his mouth, then closed it, like he was scared of giving a wrong answer. 

The prince.

It was the obvious option, he would give them that. But, nothing was ever as simple as what was written in black and white. 

“The prince has vanished. Gone. Poof. Could be dead for all we know, whatever story you prefer,” he let out a dry laugh. “Let's say you did happen to find the prince. The King is gone, sure. But the kingdom isn’t just him. You still have the council. The nobles. People who have been feeding off this corrupt system for years. Do you think they’ll just let the prince take over? He’s young. Inexperienced. If anything, they’ll treat him like a puppet and pull the strings themselves.”

“He’s still a better option than what we have now,” San said. 

“And that’s exactly what they’d want you to think.” Hongjoong almost snapped. “Because if you put a crown on a boy’s head and tell him he’s king, he’ll believe it. But the real power? It stays in the hands of the ones whispering in his ear.”

God he hated politics. The closed deals, the money laundering, the bribery, the set ups that only benefited the wrong kind of people.

He sat the muffin back into the basket having lost his appetite.

“Ever heard of a seven headed serpent? You can cut the head all you want but another head will be there ready to strike. Once you kill the King, another just like him will take his place. That’s how this system works. You think getting rid of one man will change anything? You’re just making room for the next serpent to slither in.”

The cycle never ended. An ouroboros they wouldn't be able to escape from.

“So tell me, are you actually trying to fix things, or are you just setting the board for a different game with the same damn rules?” San came around the table getting into Hongjoong's face.

Predictable.

“You know what? Fuck you. Don't come in here like you understand anything. You don't know jack shit. Don't you see what's going on outside? We can't be like this forever. The people of this kingdom can't be like this forever,” San stressed with conviction.His fist slamming down on the table unsettling the basket. Hongjoong didn't even flinch.

“If we don't do anything, war will ravage the land, and the people will lose more than just their homes. You should want to be a part of our cause. Do you not care?”

Hongjoong rose from his seat, meeting San equally. “No. I don't care. I can't afford to. I'm living in the dredges now. I see it with my own eyes everyday. My own family is on the brink of destruction because the system won't allow us to breathe. My little sister is ill and I live in agony hoping the day wont come where she's too sick to not bounce back. My brother has to work for that godforsaken King just to help put food on the table. And if you think I steal just for the fun of it, you're wrong. I do what I can for my family because the kingdom doesn't give a rat's ass for orphans. We've been abandoned in more ways than you can count.” 

He could see it when San reacted to the mention of Hongjoong being an orphan. Shoulders dropping an inch. Eyes darting over his face. Spare him the pity. What would he find? Sunken cheeks, unwashed skin, and tattered clothing?

They could label him as a cynical bastard, a selfish prick who cared only for himself and not for the greater good of the kingdom.

Hongjoong just knew better. Arrived at the answer faster. 

He used to dream of change. Used to imagine what it would be like to grasp it in his hand and make it tangible. Mold it into a perfect utopia that catered to all the masses and not the top two percent. But it was flawed. Like everything else. 

Revolutions couldn't be romanticized. They came with consequences, and he had his own burdens to carry. 

His curse. 

His family.

Things that should be prioritized instead of chasing an idealistic dream that couldn't be reached. 

“So, no. I don't have the capacity to even think about uprisings and treason when my family needs me back home and I can't be there for them because of this godforsaken curse, that I'm still waiting to be broken.” 

Hwa was staring down at the table unmoving while San and Hongjoong literally yelled at each other. Hong realized he did that often. Not involving himself unless he felt like he needed to intervene when the crew bickered or fought pettily.

“Hwa,” Hongjoong called his name like an accusation. 

He bit his lip and sighed, gold eyes darting up to peer at Hongjoong's anger filled ones. He looked so tired with those smudges under his eyes. But Hongjoong forced himself not to care.

“Hongjoong darling…” 

Darling. Being called such an endearing name like it could appease his anger just did the opposite. 

“You promised me that you could undo it. I am putting all of my cards on the table gambling for this one thing. I trust no one but myself but I came back on this ship for the inkling of hope that you would keep your word. Now can you do it or not.” 

“Hongjoong… I’ve told you before. Breaking curses is complicated,” Hwa began.

Hongjoong whipped around to an unexpecting Yeosang. “Yeosang, how long have you been in the castle?” 

Yeosang appeared taken aback by the question. “About six months.”  

He was starting to feel dread pool in his stomach. “And Jongho and San?”  

San looked away, but Jongho answered albeit wearily. “A few years.” 

“Years? And not one broken.” he said, voice coming out as a harsh whisper of air.

This couldn't be happening. He– he didn't have years. He barely had a few months left. 

All of a sudden he was too aware of the pain affecting his body. The press of the curse rising up his arms. 

No. No, no, no—

Hwa was suddenly there, hands on his shoulders. “Darling breath, it'll be alright. I told you I'll fix it. You don't have to worry.” 

Worry? Worry was a permanent engravement deeper than the black tendrils trailing up his arms. Telling him not to worry was like telling Hongjoong not to breathe. Worry was always in the back of his mind, even if he tried to shove it down and seal it tight, like a tin lid on a mason jar.

What had he been doing this whole time? Days he could have been thinking of another plan, a solution. His family thought he was on some damn random fishing boat at sea earning money to keep them afloat. 

Here Hongjoong was drowning like a sailor casted out at sea without a buoy to save his life. 

“Don't touch me.” 

He thought he had yelled the command, but his words had come out even and emotionless. 

Hwa let go in an instant as if he had touched a hot cauldron. 

Hongjoong, on unsteady feet backed away feeling sick. “As I thought. I shouldn't trust anyone but myself.” He wanted to laugh. He wanted to scream.

Something in Hwa’s expression cracked. His lips parted, emotions flickering across his face like a ball spinning on a roulette wheel, too fast and blurring together for Hongjoong to name them all. Sadness, distress, fear, shock, until, finally, they settled into something hollow.

A quiet, golden emptiness.

Hongjoong exhaled sharply.

“Thanks for nothing.” The turned and left the room.

 

💫

 

“A deal?” 

The Witch of the Waste laughed, the noise shrill and high causing him to tense. Pain erupted from his side immediately. He wouldn't put it past that one of his ribs was either broken or cracked. 

“What could a mere human offer me that I don't already have?” 

A mere human. 

Was that what people who carried magic in their blood referred to those who couldn't perform miracles?

Eden had never spoken like that. Then again, Eden had been the only wizard he’d known, and he was strange even by normal standards. He had never treated Hongjoong as anything less than his equal. 

This woman before him saw herself as a god. The way her eyes shined like emeralds and magic seemed to buzz around her, maybe she was. And he was just an ant to her wasn't he?

“Even people with power crave for something more,” he tried again. He raised the spellbook up, the cover surprisingly not muddied at all. “As you can see my skills lie in acquiring hard to get items. I'm the best in the trade, you would be losing a lot if you pass up this great opportunity.” 

"Some 'master thief' you are. Caught like a common rat, squirming in the palm of my hand.” 

She really was beautiful— the infamous Witch of the Waste. 

There was no telling how old she was, but he had heard that she had been around way before Hongjoong had ever even taken his first breath. 

Which meant she was far older than she looked. Her skin, porcelain, no hint of wrinkles or flaws to give away how old she really was. Her eyes were captivating that glowed in the darkness of the forest. And her hair seemed to flow around her like it was caught in a current, like white fabric spun from silk. 

“I must have some kind of skill if I was able to get so close to your domain. So close that I was able to enter your house and steal something of value making it all the way to the wastelands before being caught.” 

The roots wrapped around his ankle suddenly surged, twisting around his body with crushing force. The snares along the extremity ripped his clothes, scratching the skin underneath.

He barely had time to inhale before they coiled around his wrist, squeezing until the bones threatened to snap forcing him to drop the spellbook. 

A strangled cry escaped him, sharp pain slicing through his already battered ribs. Before he could recover, the roots yanked him off the ground, slamming him into the trunk of a tree. The impact stole the breath from his lungs in a violent exhale.

Hongjoong's head hung low as he tried to gulp in breaths around the encagement. Bare feet came into his blurred peripheral, the Witch bending down to pick up the spellbook he once had in his possession. She flipped it open, scanning its contents with an air of impassivity.

“There weren't any.” 

Hongjoong lifted his head, confused and lightheaded from the motion. The blood from the cut on his chin was running down the column of his neck, but what did it matter, half his body was caked in earth. 

“What?” 

The Wicked Witch stared at him coldly, as if his mere audacity to ask a question was an offense in itself. 

“No one has ever reached.” She blinked and the emeralds of her eyes appeared to shatter into a kaleidoscope of greens. “For some reason or another you are the first.”

Rustling from the left caught his attention. He dared to look away into the darkness, heart stuttering in panic as the sound grew. 

He could only describe the creature that stepped out as something out of a nightmare. Its form shifting, unnatural, as if it refused to settle on a single grotesque shape.

Hongjoong struggled against the roots wildly. 

“No– wait.” 

The nightmare slinked out of the foliage and from this distance Hongjoong could make out that it didn't have a face. 

“You’re right. There is something I want. And you will have the honour of helping me get it.”

That's good. It was good. If she needed something that meant he would live to see another sunrise. God forbid he would never take it for granted again.

“But not now.” 

“Yeah, yeah sure. Whatever you want," he rambled. “Just call your monster off.” It was a foot or so away, towering like a tree.

“Shut up.” 

He bit down on his tongue.

“I need something that I've been searching for. When the time comes I'll call you. You will follow my directions and retrieve what I need. Until then you are free to live your life as you please.” 

The terms weren't clear. How long would he have to wait? Would he be waiting for her beckon call with no do ease of mind. “You're letting me go, right?” 

The Witch walked up to the nightmare, petting it like it was some sort of dog. Her hand melted into the black and resurfaced without a trace of it on her skin. “If you agree, yes, I will let you go.”

“It’s a deal.” He forced a grin, hoping it passed for confidence, though doubt tugged at the edges of his expression.

She didn’t smile or return his enthusiasm. “What is it you humans do when you make a deal?” She pondered the thought while she petted the nightmare at her side. “Ah, yes. Let's shake on it.” 

The roots around his wrist retracted. He bit back a grunt, the skin rubbed raw and purpling. 

“Sure.” 

Whatever got him out of here the fastest. 

Hongjoong extended his hand and waited. The Witch examined it, not taking any action at first. It was caked with mud and debris. 

Was she that stuck up to not even want to shake his hand the bitc— Hongjoong wiped what he could on the side of his pants to clean his hand. Then he offered it to her again with more vigor.

She extended her own small, delicate hand to meet his. 

And then he was met with indescribable pain. 

“Ahh!” 

The scream tore out of him without warning. If he could he would have crumbled to the ground, but the roots still held him up, suspended.

“Did you think I would let you off without a precautionary measure? I am not stupid. People like you with any chance they get will bite the hand that feeds them.”

“You crazy wench, what did you do?” He seethed through gritted teeth. His palms were on fire like flames were licking at them and into his veins. He tried to pull his hand away but her grip tightened. 

“This is your only warning. The curse will keep spreading, slowly but surely. When I summon you, you will do as I ask. If you hesitate, if you fail, it will reach your heart—and that will be the end of you.”

A curse. She had cursed him and there was a timer for how long he had. “How can I complete the task if the curse kills me before I even begin?” He gasped, fingers twitching as the burning sensation pulsed in searing waves.

The Witch finally let go along with the roots wrapping around his body. His body dropped to the floor like a ragdoll groaning. “Then you better pray on that luck of yours that I locate what I'm looking for.” 

With his body released from the clutches of the roots he curled in on himself in a heap to protect what little that wasn't hurt. He watched as the tips of his fingers grew black, crawling up to engulf his palms. He frantically clawed at the skin to try to wipe it off. But unlike the mud it wouldn't disappear. It was stuck on his skin. 

Hongjoong glared at her, teeth bared. “ How is this fair?” 

The Witch stepped back into the shadows. "Life isn't fair, little human.” And with a snap of her fingers, the nightmare lunged. “You of all people should know.” 

 

💫

 

Hongjoong hadn't packed too much clothing to begin with, so it wasn't difficult to throw all that he owned into the duffle that he had stowed underneath the bed. That was where it had sat, untouched, for the past couple of days since he had stepped foot onto Hwa’s ship—castle—house? Whatever it was, it hardly mattered.

He needed to leave. He had wasted precious time that he could have been searching for a different alternative to break his curse. Instead he had been playing shopkeeper. 

The last of his clothes were smashed into the bag, barely fitting. He couldn't care to put in the effort to fold them meticulously like he knew Yunho would berate him for not doing. He would give him that familiar exasperated sigh before kneeling down to redo the entire thing properly himself. 

Hell, even Hwa would give him a piece for not keeping something tidy, the clean freak that he was. 

Hongjoong frowned his thoughts wondering to Hwa. 

The hypocrite.

The wizard preached about the sanctity of promises held by wizards, but easily broke his end when he saw no importance in it.

He claimed he wasn't like the Witch of the Waste, but Hongjoong saw no difference. Both held his curse over him and left him to dangle with no way of reaching the ground. 

The teddy bear still laid against the bedside lamp privy to the worries of human life. The beady eyes bore at him and without thinking Hongjoong hurled it to the otherside of the room. 

The soft cotton body simply bounced off the wall, landing on the floor face down with an anticlimactic thud. 

A pathetic sight. 

Well into the night when the moon was high in the sky Hongjoong made his move. He hiked the duffle over his shoulder and slipped out of his room and into the candle lit corridor. 

He waited for any sounds of life from the others to signal if they were still up and about. But after a few baited seconds he came to the conclusion that sleep had taken them for the night. 

Unlike the first time he stepped aboard frantically searching for a way out Hongjoong had knowledge of where the portal door would be. The door tended to shift around, popping up in different locations throughout the day. In the morning when they got ready for a shift in the shop, the door appeared in the living room. In the afternoon once they were done with work and already resting about, the door appeared upstairs, where Hwa exited, returning after his meetings and going straight to his office for sometime before dinner was prepared. 

Hongjoong entered the kitchen. The smell of the dinner he had missed lingered in the room. Once again no one had come to retrieve him for the mealtime that Hwa was so anal about everyone attending. Smart choice, because if someone had come knocking on his door he would have surely clocked whomever it was, still having been wound up in his frustration and rightly placed anger. 

It must have been an awkward dinner. Or maybe it wasn't. Maybe they hadn’t thought twice about him.

Hongjoong had thrown a wrench in their plans. Now they had to rework their grand vision of peace, adjust their strategies for overthrowing the government. Bigger things to worry about. More important things.

Better to save the masses than one lone soul. 

He stepped into the kitchen, expecting darkness, but a singular oil-lit lamp flickered on the table. For a moment, he tensed, thinking he had miscalculated, that someone had woken up, moving about in search of a late-night snack. But as he stepped closer, he saw the light illuminated a wrapped bowl of food.

Leftovers from dinner. Saved for him.

A gesture so small it might have meant nothing. 

Another unspoken apology, an attempt at kindness. But kindness wasn’t what he needed. Not when the curse burned beneath his skin, eating away at his time. If they truly cared, they would be figuring out a way to help him. Not offering scraps as if that would be enough.

If he accepted this, this quiet proof that they did care, in their own way, then he’d have to admit they weren’t heartless. And if they weren’t heartless, then they were simply making a choice.

And they weren’t choosing him.

He walked past the kitchen without a second glance, his footsteps barely making a sound on the worn wooden planks.Instead of stopping, he made his way down the narrow staircase leading to the lower deck, the part of the ship that served as storage.

He had happened upon this space once before when Mingi had asked him to find a set of brass compasses he needed for his lessons. What he had expected to be a cramped, dusty room turned out to be something else entirely.

Crates were stacked haphazardly against the walls, some labeled in faded ink while others bore no markings at all. Coils of rope hung from iron hooks, alongside old lanterns, well used navigational tools, and a few relics from past voyages. Forgotten trinkets that had lost their purpose. The air was thick with the scent of salt and aged wood, and if he listened closely, he could hear the muffled lap of waves lying underneath the ship's metal hull.

But what interested him most was the door.

It hadn't been there when he first stepped into the storage room, but after lingering too long, poking around where he probably shouldn’t have, it had simply… appeared. The maroon door with no frame, seamlessly blended into the wall until the right moment. It was as if the ship itself decided when it was needed.

And tonight, it was waiting for him.

The door was locked, that much was certain. But Hongjoong descended into the dimly lit space below with a thread of hope that he might somehow work the same small miracle he had when the ship had, inexplicably, allowed him entry.

It was almost laughable. If someone had asked him just a few weeks ago whether he believed ships could listen and obey, he would’ve laughed outright, dismissed them as mad, and sent them on their way. 

Now…

“Hey there, Shippy.” he whispered to the door. “Is it okay if I call you that?” 

Hongjoong cringed inwardly at himself, continuing what he had started. “Some problems recently occurred and I'm gonna need to leave earlier than anticipated. Would you be so kind as to open the door leading to Capital so I can return home?” 

He waited. A breath. A heartbeat. Listening for anything, a click, a shift in the wood, the faintest rustling. Anything to suggest the ship had heard him.

Nothing.

With a heavy sigh, he slid down to the floor, resting his duffle bag in his lap.

“Shippy, hear me out. There are people waiting for me. People I love and care about. I came on this ship because I wanted more time with them, more time than I was given, but it feels like the universe is doing everything it can to keep me away from them.”

He looked down at his hands and slowly peeled off his gloves. The blackened stain on his skin mocked him in the faint lamplight.

“I know I’m not a good person. But I don’t think I deserve this.” His voice wavered, but he pushed through. “Hwa made me a promise, and he broke it as easily as snapping a twig. So please… do what your master couldn’t. Help me.”

Hongjoong pressed his palm against the wood. The material was surprisingly warm to the touch. He waited some more thinking that it had meant that the ship had heard. Still nothing happened, so Hongjoong picked himself up and tried to calculate how far of a drop it would be to the ocean if he wanted to swim to Maeli's port in the morning and wait for the next ferry to take him to the mainland.

Just as he had turned Hongjoong heard the familiar whirring of the door. The sound of the portal starting up. His eyes darted to the symbols and watched as the black one came to life. The forbidden portal that none of them were allowed to enter for it was Hwa’s. 

Quickly Hongjoong ducked behind a crate taking cover to not be seen. The last thing he needed was to be caught by Hwa in the act of leaving with his new found secrets. 

Hwa never came. And the door never opened. Still waiting with the portal open on the forbidden location. 

Hongjoong crept out from behind the crate cautiously towards the door. “Shippy this was not the door I asked for. Open the yellow one for Capital,” he demanded.

Hongjoong lept back muffling a yelp as the lock winked out of existence and the door swung open agitatedly. It was as if the ship was throwing a fit. 

“Do... Do you want to show me something through here?” he asked pensively, peering into the darkness.

The black light emanating from the symbol intensified at the suggestion. 

“Okay, the sentient ship wants me to go through an unknown portal that could literally spit me out anywhere.” he muttered to himself. “I suppose I can't turn down your offer can I?” He got his answer in the form of an object rolling across the floor and landing at his feet. 

Bending down he picked up the object. It was a small pocket flashlight. “So, guess that's a no.”

Placing the duffle on an abandoned crate, Hongjoong turned on the flashlight and mustered his courage. “I'm going in now,” he called out. 

Clenching his eyes shut he waited for the sensation of his stomach rolling to overtake him. He guessed it was finally the moment his stomach had adjusted to the portal, for the familiar rolling sensation was absent.

Hongjoong blinked and the first thing he realized when he peered into the dimness was that he was in a cavern. 

Assuming it was a cavern.

Having never been in one himself he had nothing to compare it to, but he knew it was not supposed to look like this. The soft glow of his flashlight flickered against the uneven walls, revealing jagged rock formations that shimmered faintly, as if veins of magic were flowing within the stone itself. 

Air flowing around him was being sucked forward, towards what he thought was the direction the exit of the cavern laid. He wished he had the forethought to have brought his coat with him. The eeriness of the place was giving him the chills and he was casually dressed in trousers and a simple shirt.

The ground beneath his boots was slick, almost glassy. It was smooth in the way that came from years,centuries, of something passing through, carving an invisible path through the darkness. His breath echoed around him, swallowed up by the cavern’s impossible depth, and the further he walked, the more he felt how wrong the hollowed out rib of earth was. 

Deeper into the cavern he ventured, the more peculiar it became. Objects melded into the stone jutted out at unnatural angles as if they had been swallowed by the rock formations.

Hongjoong swept his light across a stretch of the wall, revealing an eerie collection embedded within. Dolls of all sizes, miniature airplanes and trains, intricate puzzles, and even glimmering gemstones. They were everywhere, not just confined to the walls, but also littering the very path he tread. Each cautious step required careful navigation around protruding doll limbs and wooden toy swords, the uneven terrain forcing him to move with measured precision.

It reminded him of the toy chest he, Yunho and Nari had shared as children. Only now, the cavern was the chest, and he was the one trapped inside it. 

“Why the hell did Shippy insist for me to come into this godforsaken place? It's giving me the creeps,” he muttered into the space. 

Better yet, why did Hwa want this specific place to be off limits to everyone?

"This way, Seonghwa! We're gonna be late!"

A young child, no taller than his hip, ran past, waving a telescope in the air. Hongjoong spun around startled, just in time to see another one, much older than the first running after him. There was no time to move out of the way. Hongjoong braced for impact, only for the boy to pass straight through him, his body dissolving like mist on contact and reappearing behind him.

Hongjoong sucked in a sharp breath, his lungs seizing as if the air had been stolen from them.

The boy skidded to a stop, peering back with his brown eyes locking onto Hongjoong. Eyes he would recognize anywhere even if they were another color. 

“Hwa?" 

The younger Hwa frowned, shaking his head as if trying to clear his thoughts.He looked different, yet the same. This Hwa had to be in his teens. All limbs and skinny to boot. His hair was shorter than the length he wore it at now, falling messily across his forehead.There was something boyish about him still, the kind of softness that adult Hwa still carried when he smiled. 

“Hwa is… is that really you?” Hongjoong asked, astonished, trying to make sense of the situation. The boy didn't answer, as if he couldn't hear him. But, he was staring at him intensely like he could see him.

This couldn't be Hwa. There was no way. This version was different and his eyes lacked the gold he was so familiar with. There had to be some kind of magical explanation for this phenomenon.

"Seonghwa, come on! You're such a slowpoke. If we're late, we won’t get the good spots for the Coming of Age ceremony!" the child whined.

Seonghwa broke eye contact to roll his eyes, fondness in the gesture as he started off towards the child again. "Slow down won't you? It's not like the ceremony can start without me. I’m the guest of honor."

The two disappeared further into the tunnel leaving Hongjoong shocked, confused, and rooted to the spot. “What the bloody hell was that? A ghost?” 

"No," a voice cut in smoothly. "What you just saw were memories."

In one swift motion Hongjoong dropped the flashlight and had his switchblade pointed in Wooyoung's face in seconds. 

Wooyoung didn't so much as squeak at the threatening action, his face outlined by the rolling light.

“You and San with your pointy things, always ready to cut someone,” he grumbled, staring down at the sharp metal tip.

Hongjoong lowered his blade slightly but didn't put it away. His eyes darted around the cavern walls then back at Wooyoung. 

“Wait a damn second.” His grip on the hilt tightened. “Why the fuck are you here? This place is off-limits. Hwa made that clear.”

Wooyoung hummed, inspecting the blade still in front of him as if he was waiting for Hongjoong to put it away. 

He wouldn't. 

“I could ask you the same thing, but knowing you, you probably got help from the castle again,” he chuckled. “The first time it happened I thought it was a fluke, but now it looks like I was right. There is something the castle finds special about you.” 

“Answer my question,” he reaffirmed, not wanting to play around.

“If you didn't get this already, the rules don't really apply to me. Well—,” he hummed. “Most of the rules,” he corrected with a grin. “I get a special privilege to be here.” 

Special privilege. Hongjoong spied the purpling bruises trailing up Wooyoung's neck that weren't there before and fought not to roll his eyes. The demon knew how to get his way alright. 

“So how long have you been wandering around the Cave of Mind?” Wooyoung asked nonchalantly.

“The what?” 

“Cave of Mind. A place that can take your deepest thoughts and memories and manifest them into reality.” He pulled a wooden sword from the stone, the toy giving way easily with little force. It was solid. “And this is Seonghwa's Cave of Mind.”

Hongjoong's own mind was going a mile a minute. “How come you can touch the objects in the wall but the younger Hwa ran right through me like an apparition?” he asked, remembering how the boy had run right through him. His insides still felt chilled.

“Because memories are different from thoughts.” Wooyoung tapped the wooden sword against his palm. “Memories replay, but they don’t change. They’re like echoes. Meant to be seen, not touched. But thoughts? Thoughts are more fluid. They shift, solidify, take shape. The toys, the objects, they’re things Seonghwa’s mind has held onto, things that still mean something to him.” Wooyoung grimaced, dropping the sword with a clatter. “That’s why you can touch them.”

“That's it. That's why this room is off limits. Because he’s embarrassed about us seeing how much of a child he is?” Hongjoong scoffed looking around the cavern walls with its toys and knick knacks embedded inside the stone. 

“Well, yes and no.” Wooyoung answered, twiddling his fingers as if he was nervous. “Cave of Minds are rare in location and once you wander through one it holds onto your memories for you and no one else's. So if you don't protect them then someone might walk through one and see everything that's inside your mind. It's like an invasion of privacy.” 

“I dont give a shit!” he exclaimed bitterly. This was all ridiculous and had absolutely nothing to do with him. Why did the ship lead him here? Was this a joke? Everyone mess with Hongjoong and see how much they can put him through before he snapped? 

Well he was ready to snap.

Hongjoong stormed over picking up the dropped wooden sword and swiftly broke it in half over a jutted rock. 

“And people say I can't control my anger," Wooyoung remarked dryly, watching Hongjoong.

“Well excuse me for being a little emotional after the events that transpired today,” he yelled. “I wanted to go freaking home but the damn ship put me through this portal. For what? To show me Hwa's memories? I don't care about them.” 

“Wait… you were trying to go home?” Wooyoung asked quietly, his voice tinged with surprise. 

“Do you blame me?” 

Wooyoung shook his head, arms raised up in an attempt at appeasement. “No, I—” 

“Then what?”  

Wooyoung shrank backwards, red eyes growing wide. “I know your angry at Seonghwa but—” 

“Angry?” he chuckled without humor. “Angry is an understatement Wooyoung for what I feel. Don't make the situation smaller to convince yourself what you guys did to me wasn't wrong.” 

His voice sounded ten times louder, bouncing off the walls and back into his ears. “Why don't we rewind a little so you can understand, hm? First, I was kidnapped against my will. Then your dear Hwa promised me that he could break my curse —something he damn well knew I was on a time limit for. Because let’s not forget, the longer I wait, the more the curse eats away at me before I die. And he made me believe—made me trust him—that he was working on it. That it would be okay. That he was an expert at breaking curses. Only for me to find out that he hasn't broken any of your curses and that he cares more about an unjustifiable war he has no real means of stopping. Am I not vindicated in my anger towards Seonghwa?” 

“I'm sorry,” Wooyoung whimpered, tears brimming, but Hongjoong wasn't done.

“I am the eldest son at the orphanage, Wooyoung. People already view us as unsalvageable. The government cut funding for our aid to put money back in their pockets for this stupid fucking war. So it is up to me. The family looks to me for a way out."

He clenched his hands into fist, having the urge to want to break something else. 

"The King had condemned us. And because of a stupid misplaced job, the Witch of the Waste has condemned me all over again.” 

Tears were beginning to gather on the rims of his eyes as well. Hongjoong hadn't cried in front of anyone in a long time and that made him even more frustrated.

“I will lose my family Wooyoung. And I can't. I can't. They are all that I have left. I have nothing,” he whispered.

Arms were around him as soon as the first choked gasp stuttered from his chest. Wooyoung squeezed him so close there was no space in between them. His arms dangled listlessly at his side. He didn't know what to feel. Weak? Pitied?

He did feel warm.

“I'm so sorry Hongjoong. If I could I would take away all of your pain and suffering. I'm sorry, I'm so sorry.” 

He held him in his arms until Hongjoong pushed him away embarrassedly wiping his face. He realized he hadn't put his gloves back on after he took them off in the storage room. They were still laying on top of his discarded duffle.  

Wooyoung stood a few feet back, giving him time to get himself together. He paced around the small area expertly avoiding the toys sticking out of the floor before he stopped and groaned loudly pulling at his hair.

“Fine,” he huffed in defeat, worrying his bottom lip. “Hwa's going to kill me for this.” 

His hands trembled as he swiped the tear tracks from his cheeks. He looked up at Hongjoong, eyes rimmed with red and face a blotchy.

"There’s… something I want to show you,” he said quietly. "I know I have no right to ask this of you, but I think it's really important for you to see it. It will all make sense to you once you do. About why he’s doing this. It'll help you understand Seonghwa more too,” he twisted his hands together again. “After that, you can decide if you want to leave or not.”

“Why should I trust you?”

Just because he held him as he pathetically cried didn't mean that it was magically all better. Nothing was fixed. 

“I don't have a reason for you to trust me,” he stated, shrugging his shoulders. 

Hongjoong sighed, exhausted and of need of sleep. The more tired he got the harder it was to ignore the pain. “The only reason I'm agreeing to follow you is because I don't know the way out and can't summon the damn door on my own,” he grumbled. 

“Thank you,” he nodded. 

Wooyoung turned, leading the way toward the mouth of the cavern. Hongjoong trailed a few steps behind reluctantly with the flashlight pointed at the ground so he wouldn't lose his footing.

The path narrowed as they walked. The cavern walls pressed closer and shadows shifted along the edges of their vision. They passed more fragments of memories, manifested images that pulsed like stop motion films. 

Most of the memories were the same. Seonghwa and the child that stayed glued to his side. They were always together. Playing, practicing magic, exploring.

The past unfolded before their eyes.

Laughter through open fields. Young Seonghwa with the child who was napping in the flower beds while he laced together flower crowns. He sang quietly to himself as he weaved the steams in place.Younger Hwa looked at the boy lovingly as he carefully placed the crown on his sleeping head when it was finished.

“Is that his brother?” he asked. 

“Yes, it was," Wooyoung answered solemnly.

A woman called out, gentle and bright and then the image dispersed and faded, a new one taking it’s place. 

Then—

Screaming.

Thick, acrid smoke curled into the sky, turning it an ashen gray as flames consumed buildings, the air shimmering with heat.

“Wooyoung, what's happening?” Hongjoong said, alarmed, his voice lost in the roar of collapsing timber and the shrieks of panic.

An explosion burst to his left,blinding light, heat like a slap, and he flinched hard, instinctively ducking.Hongjoong staggered, thrown off balance, coughing on the smoke that he knew wasn't real. His heart raced, pounding erratically in his ears, louder than the chaos around him.

“Hold on to me,” Wooyoung instructed, reaching back to clasp their hands together.

 “What is this?” 

Wooyoung didn’t answer, his expression pensive. He continued on, pulling Hongjoong through the memory like he had the path memorized like the back of his hand. 

The image around them eventually dispersed, shuddering as if the Cavern of Mind was reluctant to let this particular memory go. They finally happened upon the exit, the cavern opening up as they inched closer, revealing a desolate field on the other side that went on for miles and miles. 

The sky above was colorless, an endless expanse of pale gray. The ground beneath their feet was cracked and lifeless. All around them, the remnants of scorched earth stretched toward the horizon, brittle and empty.

“We're here.”  

Wooyoung released their joined hands, walking over to the edge of the opening to sit on the cavern floor, his back facing Hongjoong. 

“What did you want to show me? There's nothing here,” he said, still in utter shock.

He was deeply confused. He had just witnessed what looked like the inside of hell. Everything was on fire. And if it was a memory, Hwa's memory, that meant that those events had transpired.

“Over there,” Wooyoung pointed.

In the center of it all was a cqrved out wound in the earth. A deep hole, dug out and left bare. 

A person stood at the bottom of it, his figure small against the emptiness. His head was bowed, hair hanging in loose strands around his face. He wasn’t moving. 

“Is that another fragment of memory?” 

Wooyoung looked at the figure sadly. “No, we aren't in the Cave of Mind anymore.” 

That meant this was the real Hwa. What was he doing in this place all on his lonesome? 

“What is he doing over there?” Hongjoong’s throat tightened dread setting in. “What… What is this place?”

"It used to be Seonghwa’s home,” Wooyoung softly replied.

Hongjoong turned towards him. "What happened to it?"

Wooyoung’s eyes darkened, the red bleeding deeper into his irises, his mouth twisting. "The King happened,” he answered brittlely. "He destroyed it all.” 

The fire. The King had done that? All those people were screaming in the memory. Were they all—

“Seonghwa’s home. His last remaining family. It’s all gone now.”

His family was gone. Hongjoong looked around at the environment. There was no sign of life. No trees, no animals, no houses, or even a blade of grass in sight.

That meant the young boy— Hwa's brother that was with him in every memory was also… 

His gaze slid back to Seonghwa, standing in the pit of earth like etched stone. He thought of Seonghwa’s need for them all to gather, how he looked at his crew with so much love and care. How he was fighting to stop a war that couldn't be stopped. 

"Why would you show me this?" Hongjoong he rasped, strained at the edges.

Wooyoung’s eyes softened. “Because Seonghwa understands. He knows what it's like to lose everything.” He reached out, fingers brushing against Hongjoong’s sleeve. “Don't leave Hongjoong.”

 Hongjoong’s hands burned.

"I know you don't have a lot of trust in us. If you don’t trust anything, then trust this. He won’t let you end up like him. Seonghwa knows that better than anyone that no one deserves that kind of pain. The pain of losing everything that you are.”  

 

 

Chapter 5: What's at Stake?

Notes:

*mentions of death and gore. If you are sensitive please be careful when reading Seonghwa’s flashback

💫

 

 

Seonghwa crouched low in the shadowed courtyard garden, heart thundering beneath his ribs. The once tranquil space where he had meditated under moonlight now reeked of smoke and blood. Ash clung to the petals of the midnight lilies, and distant screams tore through the sky like wild birds.

How did everything lead to this point? 

He had only stepped away from the square for a moment, anxious nerves bouncing around his stomach as he waited for his Coming of Age ceremony to commence. But now, hidden behind a crumbling stone arch and thick hedges, he heard voices not meant for him.

“…Cromer…”

“The key is gone!”

“Find it. It has to be here somewhere.”

Then—

“Kill everyone and leave no evidence behind.”

The words punched the breath from his lungs.

He knew that voice.

He’d memorized the cadence of it, the way it had once soothed his raw hands during spellwork, the warmth it carried when it said, “You’re going to change this world, Seonghwa.”

Now it rang thin. Like a blade unsheathed.

The garden swam before his eyes. Cold dread pooled in his gut, a sickness deeper than fear. He curled in on himself, pressing a trembling hand to his mouth to stifle the sound threatening to break free—part gasp, part whimper, part denial.

Why?

Why was his mentor standing among strangers marked with the crest of the kingdom, issuing orders like a war general?

Had the warmth in his mentor's eyes been nothing but a mask? Was everything a lie?

Seonghwa gripped the stone beneath him until his knuckles split, fingernails clawing into old moss and crumbling mortar. 

He felt something shatter inside him, not just trust, but identity. His entire life had been shaped by this place, these people, his mentor. 

The person who had just sentenced them all to die.

His breath came in shallow bursts. His magic, once steady and vibrant, jittered in his veins like a trapped bird. He wanted to scream. To rush out and demand an answer. But something deeper, calling to him, warned him to stay hidden.

Survive now. 

Vengeance would come later.

So he waited in the garden, heart rabbiting in his chest, until he was sure the intruders had long gone. Then he ran.

Seonghwa ran until his legs nearly gave out, his cloak whipping in the wind behind him. He had one thing and one thing only on his mind. Finding his little brother Minjae. 

Minjae was supposed to be waiting with the others in the square and unlike Seonghwa, his brother hadn't been blessed with strong magic abilities. He hoped and prayed to the gods that he would be safe until he could reach him.

A rancid smell hit him, the smell rising above the smell of smoke.He rounded a corner and pinpointed exactly what the smell was. 

Burned hair. Flesh. Blood soaked into stone.

The streets were strewn with the dead and everything was aflame.

Charred bodies lay twisted in their final moments, limbs locked mid-run, mouths open in silent screams. Some were reduced to shadows on the walls, remnants of what they'd once been. 

He staggered, stomach heaving. Falling to his hands and knees in a rush, Seonghwa painfully vomited into the soot-blackened grass until all that came out was acid and bile. Tears fell down his cheeks leaving scalding trails of despair.

This couldn't be real. What he was seeing was a mistake. A cruel illusion. 

Those bodies were… 

He recognized some of them, Those that still had features intact to discern from. 

Boram, his classmate who used to struggle with wind spells but always shared her notes, was draped over a bench, strands of her brown hair fused to the scorched wood.

Little Daeho, who once gifted Seonghwa a lopsided clay rabbit, was lying face down near the temple steps, his satchel of marbles scattered around him like spilled stars.

Instructor Taemin, the one who once told Seonghwa he had a gift for balance magic, was pinned beneath a collapsed archway, his staff split down the middle like kindling.

Seonghwa wiped his mouth, shaking his head in vain as another wave of nausea clawed at his throat, his gag reflex flaring each time. There was no time for mourning. That could be done later, once he had secured those still salvageable and ensured their escape to safety. 

Rising on unsteady legs, dread curling low in his gut, Seonghwa resumed his search through the ravaged streets. 

“Hello?” he called, voice cracking on smoke as it echoed through the polluted air. “Is anyone there? Minjae?”

He stepped over the collapsed doorway, deliberately avoiding the sight of the foot protruding from beneath the wood. His eyes swept across the wreckage, scanning for any hint of movement.

“Please—if you can hear me, answer me!”

Nothing could be heard over the roaring flames surrounding him.

“I can help you! I can get you out!” 

Only the crackle of fire answered his plea.

Seonghwa’s voice grew more frantic with every passing second. “Please, just say something!”

The deeper he moved into the wreckage, the more he came to the conclusion that he could possibly be the only one left. And it terrified him to search even harder, clinging to the hope that he could find Minjae. He had to find Minjae. 

Why wasn't there any life wherever he searched? Instead of survivors there were only corpses upon corpses.

His people of Aurora were among the most formidable of all the country.Their magic clan was ancient, disciplined, and unmatched. Feared by enemies and revered by allies. They had long lived in quiet seclusion, their village left undisturbed save for summons from the crown itself. They were good people. And they had died so savagely. So quickly.

How could his mentor have wrought such devastation? Murder? Over a key?

Seonghwa remained alert for any chance that he may run into any disguised soldiers from the kingdom, but fortunately there were no signs that they were still in the village. He figured they must have escaped before the flames worsened. They had saved themselves. Fled leaving the villagers to burn. Too afraid to stay less they met the same fate.

Everything narrowed to the pounding in his chest and the crunch of scorched stone beneath his boots. Did they believe their lives were worth more than those they abandoned? That their titles or orders made them untouchable? Better?

He rounded a shattered wall and stumbled into what was left of the northern square. Rubble from the old bell tower was strewn across the flagstones, jagged slabs and twisted beams caved inwards like the jaws of some monstrous creature. 

The area seemed to have been where the attack had started. Scorch marks seared black paths across the once granite stone, and the air shimmered faintly with lingering magical residue, like heat haze but colder, almost humming with leftover energy. Debris lay in a scattered arc, blown outward from a central blast point, where the floor itself had cracked. The villagers of those who were waiting for the ceremony to commence were thrown about.

And then he saw it. Clear as a bluebird among a flock of crows.

A pale hand decorated with a singed flower twined bracelet, limp and dust-covered, jutting from beneath the crumpled remains of a collapsed awning and timber beams.

Time stopped.

Seonghwa dropped to his knees, scrabbling at the rubble with raw fingers. “No, no, Minjae! Minjae, please! Don't do this to me.”

Splinters bit into his skin, stone scraped his knuckles bloody, but he didn’t stop. Couldn't. He was so frantic to release his brother that he had forgotten that he could have used his magic to lift the rubble. He could have summoned the earth to shift. Could have whispered to the wind to lift the beams. But the grief had shattered his line of thinking.

“Minjae, please—just—just stay with me. Hold on, your brother is here. Please hold on,” he cried out.

With one final heave, the broken beam shifted, and there he was. 

Minjae laid unmoving.

His eyes were half-lidded, glassy and unblinking. A gash ran along the side of his temple, dried blood matted into his hair. His chest did not rise.

Seonghwa didn't dare breathe.

“No…” he whispered. He reached out, cradling the side of Minjae’s face with trembling hands. “No, no, no. Minjae—wake up. Please.”

Seonghwa racked his brain for a spell, any spell that could save his brother. He gathered his brother’s face with trembling hands, casting every healing spell he knew. Mending. Purification. Even the Heartroot spell—one he’d used countless times to revive wilting meadow blossoms.

Nothing was working and Seonghwa could tell his magic reserves were running low by how his vision was becoming muddled around the edges.

He pressed his forehead to Minjae’s, willing life into him, willing breath back into his lungs. “You’re just sleeping, right? You—gods, you always sleep too deeply—”

Minjae’s body was burning up, playing tricks on Seonghwa that his soul was still attached to his brother's body. But he could feel it inside of him. The magic that once flowed so faintly in his brother’s aura was gone.Emptied.

Another building collapsed behind him, but Seonghwa didn’t look. The world had already ended. His brother, his last family, was gone.

He held Minjae tighter, as if he could fold time, change fate, barter with the gods. 

“Help me.” 

Seonghwa startled at the voice. Peering down at Minjae to see if he had spoken, but his lips didn't do much as quiver.

Was he going mad? He was all but sure everyone was long gone in the village. 

“Help me please.” 

There it was again. 

It was stronger this time. It had to be a person. Someone had survived?  Seonghwa strained his ears to listen. The person sounded in pain. He… He should help them, but—

He looked down at Minjae's face again and nearly choked on the force of his sob. He didn't want to leave his brother. Minjae hated being alone and he didn't want to leave him alone again in death. 

But if someone was alive and needed his help he had the power to do so. 

“I’ll be right back. It won't be for long, so fear not. You're safe now. I won't leave you again,” Seonghwa forced out his reasurances, barely holding himself together. 

Unsteadily he slipped off his cloak and spread it gently across the soot-covered ground. He lifted Minjae’s body with a reverence that bordered on sacred, laying him down with care, away from the rubble and creeping flames. 

Seonghwa lingered for a breath, brushing soot from his brother’s cheek, making sure nothing else could harm him. Then, with a final glance, he turned and sprinted toward the direction of the voice that had called out.

The fires were still burning brightly in the village, hungrily attaching themselves to the surrounding areas. The forest and meadows he and his brother once played in after their magic lessons were now swallowed by flame, their laughter scorched from the earth, replaced by the crackle of destruction. 

Even the lake, where Seonghwa used to watch the sky's reflection ripple across its surface had become a molten pit, the water completely dissolved.

“Here, over here. Please.” 

Seonghwa's mind rejected what his eyes saw. 

Outlined in the inferno, a figure stood untouched by the fire, yet made of it, its edges flickering like a candle’s final breath. A human shape. Barely held together. Light spilled from the cracks in its skin like molten gold. Eyes burned like dying stars.

“You came for me.” 

The being staggered in his direction, limbs unstable, its body struggling to cohere as the fire around it fed and fought it at once.

Seonghwa tensed, pulling the last semblance of magic he had in the possibility he had to defend himself. 

This was not a survivor. This was something else.

“What are you? Are you a god sent here to answer my prayers?”

It dropped to its knees, claws digging at the earth like it didn’t belong in this world, but still tried to stay. It was clearly in pain crying out and pulling at flames to tether back to its body.

The creature, boy, lifted his head, “A god?” it echoed, one half human, one half distortion. It began to laugh maniacally despite the pain it seemed to be in. “No. But I’ve heard your prayers.”

Each movement it made waivered, heat evaporating its form. It was like looking into the center of a flame and seeing it blink. 

“I saw your grief,” it continued. “I felt your rage. Your desperation called to me. Like a beacon.”

Seonghwa's hands trembled at his sides. The spell he clung to withering in his palms, faltering under the weight of exhaustion and confusion. “You… heard me?”

“I am born from the chaos and destruction created by men,” it wheezed, billowing smoke. “Where there is will and hatred, where grief is louder than prayer, I awaken.”

“You're a celestial,” he whispered in awe.

The being tried to stand but erupted into a coughing fit, flames surging around itself. 

“And you're… dying?” 

“I did not choose this form,” it went on, its molten eyes boring into Seonghwa’s soul. “But your pain... your loss, it shaped me. Gave me purpose. You called for justice. For vengeance.”

Did he… want vengeance? 

Seonghwa was not a violent person.He was a kind soul straight through and through. But he could feel the flames that ravaged his village catching onto his soul and igniting his wrath.

He had the power. But he was not strong enough to take on his mentor and possibly the King. 

He was well aware of the damage and chaos that celestial fire demons used to bring upon the earth before they were extinguished long ago.

If he had the power of a celestial…

“Can you help me do that? Get vengeance on the people who did this.”

The celestial raised a hand, more suggestion than flesh—light pulsing from within the cracks that kept sealing and rebreaking like lightning caught beneath its skin. “I can not help you in your journey for revenge if I perish at your feet. You must help me first.”  

Seonghwa gritted his teeth, strengthening his resolve. “Then what must I do to gain your favor, celestial?” 

“A living thing… to become living again,” it intoned, voice crackling like kindling. “—requires life.”

The fire around them roared higher for a breath, then fell silent, unnervingly silent, as if the world itself awaited Seonghwa’s answer.

“Life?” Seonghwa repeated, his voice hollow. If it was life the celestial wanted...

“Then take mine.”

The demon paused.

“I did not say death,” it said, watching him closely. “I said life. You must give, not surrender. What can you offer me that still burns?” 

Seonghwa’s hand moved slowly to his chest, his fingers curling into the torn fabric above his heart. “Take it,” he whispered. “My heart. I don’t need it anymore.”

The demon staggered into a standing position, the light of it dimmed revealing its obsidian body.

“You offer willingly?” it asked, softer now. “No tricks. No cries for mercy after.”

Seonghwa nodded once. His eyes shimmered, not with tears, but with the fire’s reflection. “I have no mercy left in me.”

Like a flare ripping through dry air, the being surged forward, not waiting for a chance for Seonghwa to recall his offer. A tendril of molten light pierced into Seonghwa’s chest. It was pain beyond pain. Like being burned and hollowed all at once. Yet Seonghwa stood, unflinching, as the heat claimed what he had freely given. 

He would endure. He would see this through with no more tears. 

The fire burning in the dried out lake extinguished all at once, leaving behind steam and ash that rained down upon them like snow. 

The demon drew back, and in its palm glowed a small, fiery orb of a thing. 

Seonghwa watched the heart in the demon's hand rise and fall with its beats. Even out of his chest it still tried to live. 

He never knew his heart could be so small and delicate. 

The celestial looked down at the heart with its mouth slightly agape in pure wonder, like it too couldn't believe the oddity of it. 

“A heart has many burdens to carry,” the demon spoke softly. “For as long as you walk this path you will no longer be alone in your burden. But know this. What you give freely, I will guard fiercely until the end.” 

Seonghwa was reminded once again how he was going to be alone. He wouldn't make meals for Minjae anymore. He wouldn't be able to nag him to clean his room before playing outside with his friends. He wouldn't be able to sing him to sleep when he awoke with nightmares. For the unforeseeable future he would be tied to this demon until he got his revenge. 

After that…

“If you are to be a living being,” Seonghwa said, swallowing down his emotions. “Then you should have a name.” 

“ A name?” The demon peered up at him cradling his heart close. “Then please give me a name that you think is fitting for a human.” 

 

 

💫

 

 

Sometimes Seonghwa felt weightless. Not in the way flying used to feel, with wind brushing his limbs like a lover’s hold, lifting him above the world.

No, this was the dizzy kind. Like helium in his skull. Taking his thoughts and making them float up like a balloon, lost from a careless child's grasp. 

There would be no specific trigger that would particularly set him off. He would just find himself doing a certain task and then the next he would be back here. 

Trapped in his memory. Waiting to come back down.Waiting for someone to save him from the fire and death that always stalked him like wolves that bared their teeth at his heels. 

A pebble skittered down the slope nearby. The sound punctured the cotton candy like fog in his brain.  

“Wooyoung?” his voice rasped, dry and hoarse as if unused for years.

Wooyoung's red eyes shone from the top of the parched lake bed, expression warm. “I've come for you.” 

Seonghwa blinked, slow to process. “Sorry, darling. I think…time escaped me again,” he said, lips twitching in faint apology. “Is it… time for bed?” 

Wooyoung laughed, eyes sparkling. Seonghwa loved his laugh. When he laughed brazenly and out of control like a runaway freight train. When he threw his head back like it was too much to hold alone and grabbed the nearest person like he had to share it. 

“Aren't you aware of how late it is? It's way past bedtime hyung.”

Seonghwa turned his head skyward, confused. Wooyoung was right. The sky had slowly lost its stars. Twilight dwindling and giving birth to pre-dawn right before him and he was none the wiser about it. 

No. He hadn't been aware. 

The last time he was aware he had been in his study, nose deep in a book. The next he was…

“I've worried you again haven't I?” Seonghwa asked grimly, peering down at his feet and their lack of shoes. 

“There is nothing to worry about. At least this time you didn't wander off too far that I had to go off in search of you,” Wooyoung said, giving him a sympathetic look. “Why don't we go home and set you right with some cuddles in bed.”He extended his hand, palm up, a quiet offering to help pull him from the hollow. 

For a split second there was a trace of an acrid smell in the air. Seonghwa tensed. He was transported back. Wooyoung's outstretched hand covered in flames as his body tried to stop itself from coming undone. 

There were screams filling his ears. The ground beneath his feet was beginning to sear with heat.

“Seonghwa,” Wooyoung called a little firmer. Lips pulled in a smile that ticked a little tight on the corners. “You're tired. Let's go home.”

He blinked and Wooyoung was normal again. Obsidian skin and claws that could rip him into ribbons replaced with soft olive skin and safety in the eyes of his beloved.

“Yes…” Seonghwa said quietly. “I think I would prefer to go home now.”  

Wooyoung took his hand in his and pulled, lifting him out of the past.Seonghwa felt himself come down to earth. Settling into his body.Into the present. 

Wooyoung was always good at that. Grounding him. With laughter. With touch. With knowing exactly how to handle him without shattering anything fragile inside.

Like when they walked through the Cave of Mind. Wooyoung’s hands cupped over his ears to mute the noise of old wounds, his steps sure and steady as he walked backward, never breaking Seonghwa’s gaze. He was the tether. The shield. The one thing stronger than the storm.

In no time at all they walked through the maroon door and into the castle. The familiar creak of the hinges echoed softly behind them.Wooyoung locked the door and wordlessly led him up the stairs, their footsteps muffled by the worn carpet that lined the hallway.

The bathroom door opened with a gentle push. Without needing to be asked he went to work turning on the taps of the bath, adjusting the temperature until the water ran warm, steam slowly curling upward to kiss his face.

“Hold on. Let me add in some bath salts and then we can climb in,” he said, puttering around in the cabinets in search for the perfect scent. “Are you feeling green tea or jasmine?” 

“Green tea please,” he replied quietly.

Wooyoung hummed, uncapping the bottle and pouring half of its contents into the streaming water of the bath. The water turned a nice pale jade, the herbal sweet scent tickling his nose pleasantly. 

“Now for my favorite part,” he smiled playfully. “Off with the clothes.” 

Seonghwa rolled his eyes but did what he was told, shedding his clothes and folding them to lay on the edge of the sink. 

It was a routine born from pain. Crafted over time like a balm. A care plan to call Seonghwa back when he drifted too far.

Back when they didn’t understand his episodes, Seonghwa would sink so deep it felt like he was the one that had died and was being forced to live as a corpse. 

The episodes would frighten Seonghwa. He would think this had to be the last time. The last straw. Wooyoung would certainly come to the realization that Seonghwa was not a fit vessel and leave.

He was only with him because he needed Seonghwa's heart and nothing more. 

But Wooyoung had stayed with him through everything. Comforting him. Crying for him. Seonghwa had never imagined a celestial being would shed tears for him.

That's when he knew. His heart was no longer just his own. It belonged to Wooyoung in every way possible. 

When the tub was full, Wooyoung helped him in first, then undressed and slid in behind him, wrapping around Seonghwa like a shield with a content sigh. 

Dipping a cup into the water, he poured it gently over Seonghwa’s head, again and again, until his hair lay flat and soaked. Then he lathered soap into his hair, working it in with slow, rhythmic movements.He hummed softly under his breath, a tune Seonghwa didn’t recognize but found comforting nonetheless. It floated around them like a ward, wrapping the moment in something fragile. 

Seonghwa’s eyes fluttered closed, his shoulders slowly sinking beneath the surface of the water as tension unspooled from his muscles one knot at a time.

“Feeling any better?” Wooyoung said, rinsing the soap from his hair. 

“Mhmm, much better,” Seonghwa muttered, laying back fully onto Wooyoung.

A hand came up kneading the muscles on the slope of his shoulders. Seonghwa groaned at a particular spot that had been giving him some trouble lately.

“Enough for cuddles?” 

Seonghwa cracked an eye open in amusement.“Is this five-star service your way of seducing me to bed?”

Wooyoung grinned, resting his chin on Seonghwa’s shoulder.“Is it working?” 

“Was earlier not enough for you?” Seonghwa clearly remembered releasing some pent up stress earlier in the study. 

Fingers traced up and down Seonghwa’s front, rippling the water around their bodies.

Then, almost as an afterthought, he murmured, “Bold of you to assume that was enough to satiate me when you taste the way you do.” 

“If you put it that way…” 

Seonghwa pretended to take his time to mull the thought over as he washed the last bit of soap from his skin. He could feel Wooyoung growing restless behind him and he took quiet delight in it. 

“I suppose I could oblige you. I wouldn't be able to refer to myself as a gentleman if I didn't repay you for your kind services now would l?” 

Wooyoung climbed out excitedly, almost dropping Seonghwa in the bath water. By the time Seonghwa righted himself Wooyoung already had a towel wrapped low on his waist, holding another towel out for Seonghwa to take. 

“Why are you dwelling in the bath for? Hurry up old man times a ticking.” 

 

 

 

💫

 

 

Seonghwa traced along the skin on Wooyoung's chest and pressed down feeling the steady beating of the heart that lay just underneath. 

He admired the way Wooyoung's chest stuttered as he breathed underneath the feather-like touch of his fingers. How new purple flowers blossomed on the flesh he had marked earlier, deepening the color as he kissed and sucked with tender love and care, leaving his heart a beating and erratic mess. 

“Wooyoung, are you with me darling?”

He couldn’t get enough of it, their heart they shared between the two of them.

“Hwa,” Wooyoung whined, dragging out his name like a feverish prayer. 

“Yes, my love?” he answered without stopping in his ministrations.

“I can't any longer. Give me– ah. Give me more,” he panted.Seonghwa lifted his head just enough to see Wooyoung’s debauched appearance. 

It was truly a sight to behold. He was barely holding on. Black hair spread like a halo against the pillows, eyes lidded and glazed over in bliss, flushed from his cheeks all the way down to his collarbones.

And if Seonghwa wasn't already aware he would have thought Wooyoung was a Demon of Lust sent to tempt him into committing all kinds of sin. 

And he would commit them all for his beloved Wooyoung if he said the word. 

Seonghwa bent lower to lick a slow tantalizing stripe over the line of his abdomen making Wooyoung's muscles tense and shake as frissons took hold of his body.

“You have me,” he whispered, voice low and reverent. “Every part, I will give freely to you.” 

Wooyoung’s eyes flared crimson, the color deepening into something molten and wild. Seonghwa felt it then. The pull of their bond tightening like a thread drawn taut right in the void nestled between his ribs where his heart used to be. Wooyoung was feeding off of him, drawing strength from the touch, the closeness, the offering he’d made without hesitation. And with it came those telltale signs. How Wooyoung’s breathing hitched, how his pupils dilated with something close to euphoria. He looked drunk on it, drunk on him, and Seonghwa swore he could feel that hunger bloom right beneath his skin.

“I want it all,” he crooned, high on it.

“Then you shall have it my love,” he murmured, brushing sweat slick hair from Wooyoung's forehead.

Seonghwa's hand slid further down, cupping Wooyoung through his pants, feeling the hardness beneath. Wooyoung bucked into the touch, panting, his claws emerging to dig into the sheets as if the pleasure was too much to hold. 

“Look at you,” Seonghwa whispered against his neck, kissing the feverish skin there. “So sensitive.” 

Wooyoung whimpered, his hips jerking helplessly as Seonghwa teased him through the fabric, rubbing slow circles, watching with dark satisfaction how fast he unraveled.

Seonghwa stroked him slowly at first, dragging it out just to hear every whimper, every curse, every delicious sound that escaped his pretty lips. Wooyoung’s head thrashed against the pillows, his claws scoring faint lines into the mattress as his body tensed and shook. The air between them sparked with energy, thick with their bond, their breath, the sound of skin against skin.

When Seonghwa had deemed that Wooyoung had had enough he ceased his movements, abruptly releasing Wooyoung to let him twitch at his side. 

Wooyoung whined pitifully when Seonghwa’s hand left him, hips twitching in search of friction, the loss almost painful. 

Inhaling shakily in frustration, crimson eyes narrowed in a glare that quickly melted into a sulky pout.“Hwa—why’d you stop?” he gasped, claws curling against the sheets. “That’s not fair—!”

The switch flipped.

Seonghwa didn’t speak. He simply moved,  crawling up over Wooyoung’s writhing form with slow, deliberate grace until he was straddling his hips. The weight of him pressed Wooyoung down, grounding him in place, caging him in, like a butterfly entrapped in a spider's web fluttering beautifully. 

He tilted Wooyoung’s chin up with a firm hand, locking eyes for a moment so intense it made Wooyoung instantly fall silent.

Then he kissed him. Hard and deep. Not bothering to be tender. He was hot and possessive with it, tongue sliding against Wooyoung’s with a dominance that would make his head spin.

Seonghwa finally pulled away, his grip tightening just enough to make Wooyoung gasp again.

“Repeat the rules,” he said, voice low and rough against his ear.

Wooyoung groaned. “Hwa—”

His thumb pressed harder into his jaw. “Try again.”

Wooyoung huffed, shivering. “Rule one, Don’t open any doors that don’t open for you first. If it’s locked, it’s locked for a reason.”

Seonghwa rewarded him with another kiss leaving him disoriented from the lack of air. “Um… Rule number two, don't touch any potions without permission.”

“—and number three,” he continued, “clean up and help with chores. Which I abide by!” he chirped, clearly fishing for praise. 

Who was Seonghwa to deny him that? Seonghwa dipped back down tasting the sensitive skin just below Wooyoung's ear, taking pleasure in hearing him practically sing like a canary from the action. “Good boy,” he whispered low and heady. “Now, what is the last rule?” 

Wooyoung hesitated, eyes drifting to the side avoiding Seonghwa. 

“Wooyoung."

“I seem to have come down with a case of amnesia,” he grumbled. 

Seonghwa’s smile grew wide and dangerous as he gripped Wooyoung’s jaw again, firmer this time, thumb pressing just beneath his lower lip. Wooyoung thrived on being a brat and Seonghwa took no heed in playing his role in the performance he put on.

“Want me to jog your memory, darling? I’ll tie your hands and make you beg for an hour, and still not let you cum.”

Wooyoung's eyes widened a fraction, shaking his head at the idea. “No, no I've seemed to have remembered all of a sudden. Rule number four, no making deals.” 

“Correct,” Seonghwa hummed, leaning in to drag his lips just shy of Wooyoung’s. “Earlier you broke a rule, and what happens when we break the rules Wooyoungie?”

"We get punished,” Wooyoung replied, lips brushing over his as he spoke. 

“Correct again,” he replied satisfied. “You tried to break rule number four so face the repercussions of your actions.” 

Climbing up and off of Wooyoung, Seonghwa walked over to his vanity. They had lazed around in bed long enough. He would appreciate getting a few hours of sleep but that idea was out the window. He still had to prepare for the day and he wasn't one to tolerate tardiness even from himself.

“Come on!,” Wooyoung groaned long and annoyingly loud, having a proper tantrum as he threw his limbs about the bed. “Hongjoong didn't even agree to anything so no deal took place. Besides, even if it did, it's practically in my nature. How can you blame me for being myself, Seonghwa! That's like the equivalent of telling a human not to have three square meals a day. Do you want me to starve?” 

Sitting on the ottoman Seonghwa flipped the latch on his jewelry box revealing the array of jewels, rings, and necklaces he had collected over the years. He selected one of his most cherished pieces. A fine gold chain strung with an oval-cut emerald encased in an antique filigree setting. The matching earrings were small studs, each set in the same intricate metalwork.

“It is certainly not the same. Don't be so theatrical.” He began taking out the pair he already had on and to replace them with the new ones. “You can sustain yourself with my energy alone, but If you really wanted you could easily course San into giving you what you want by all means.”

Seonghwa watched Wooyoung’s reflection in the mirror, the demon rolling to the edge of the bed until their eyes met. “Perhaps I’ll take Hongjoong up on his offer. Freely and with no strings attached,” Wooyoung mused, light and taunting. “I’m sure he has plenty of tricks he’d be eager to put to use.”

He tried to conceal it. A slither of emotion snaked through at the mention of Hongjoong's name. A fine crack ran across the surface of the vanity mirror. Almost imperceptible, but there nonetheless. A hairline fracture that split their reflection down the middle.

“Fuck,” he cursed under his breath, quickly realing back the magic before it could get the chance to damage anymore things in the room. 

“So, that's what's been bothering you. Hongjoong,” Wooyoung assessed. 

Seonghwa didn't bother confirming his superstitions, busying himself as he began to fiddle with the clasp to put on the necklace next.

“Seonghwa,” Wooyoung sighed. “Don't be hard on yourself. You can't take the blame for everything that happens under the sun.”

“This I can,” he muttered.

“I care for them as much as you do, but please Hwa, you have to understand that Hongjoong's problems are not your own. None of theirs are. One of these days you’re going to run yourself into the ground carrying stones upon your back you were never meant to bear.”

“What purpose does magic serve, if not to be wielded in the service of others?” he pressed.

So few of the world were blessed with magic. Magic, even just a small pocket of it, could change a life. Yet, his village that was thriving in it perished, all except for him by some kind of sick miracle. 

Seonghwa laid awake every night for the past ten years thinking if only he were stronger, If only wiser, if only he hadn't been so naive to be fooled and known more back then he could have saved everyone. 

At first, he was ready to walk a path of vengeance, with only the demon bound to him by contract. But fate, ever persistent, kept steering him toward others. People burdened by curses, living lives that no longer felt like their own. 

He hadn’t gone looking for them, yet they found him all the same. And in each of them, he saw pieces of the past he couldn't change.

It had to mean something.

So he read every book he could get his hands on, studied every spell no matter the cost. He pushed himself past the edge of exhaustion, chasing mastery as if redemption lay at the bottom of an ink-stained page. This was his penance. His chance to atone for what he failed to protect.

They did not pile their stones on his back to carry. He had willingly taken them with a smile on his face. 

He had the power to, but it was still not enough for he was being crushed. Every attempt to protect those he loved was ending in failure, and the weight of it gnawed at him relentlessly.

“Hongjoong entrusted me to help him and I let him down,” he grimaced looking at his reflection in the cracked glass of the mirror. “Did you know he compared me to her? That she devil of a witch.” 

“You are nothing like that wench,” Wooyoung growled, sparks flying across his olive skin in anger.

“Am I not? When coming back from Maddox's, I saw Hongjoong surrounded. He was being wrongfully accused, and I could see it in his face, like a cornered animal looking for an escape, asking for help. I just got so angry.” The magic inside of him swirled at the memory seeing one of his beloveds in such a way. 

Not beloved. 

He had to remind himself that Hongjoong did not find this place his home and he did not see them as one either. 

“All I could think of was how to cause hurt. I wanted payback for the humiliation they put him in.” He turned and looked at Wooyoung over his shoulder. “I wanted to curse her. How— how is that not the same Woo. I could have destroyed a life. Am I not like her,  or the people who did the same to our boys?” 

“You are not,” Wooyoung answered without a sign of hesitation.

“How could you be so sure?” he grimaced down at his lap.

Seonghwa heard the springs on the bed before he saw Wooyoung crouched before him, face angled to catch Seonghwa’s attention. “You want to know why I know you will never turn out like her. Because of this,” he gently took Seonghwa's hand and pressed it to his chest where he felt the telltale thump of their promise. 

“You may carry their burdens but I carry yours. I know you Seonghwa and I know your heart. It's filled with so much love. So much love that you are willing to help people you don't know. So much that you would put your life on the line to protect those who can't help themselves. So much that you fall in love way too quickly and way too often,” he giggled. 

That pulled a wry reluctant smile upon Seonghwa’s face, barely there, but real.

“You really like him don't you?”

“It's not like that,” Seonghwa blushed, taken aback by the change in topic. 

Wooyoung grinned devilishly like he knew of something Seonghwa wasn't aware of. “I feel it here, you know. When you look at him our heart goes crazy. I thought it would beat right out of my chest every time he was near.” 

Wooyoung would know how his heart reacted to the stimulus. He didn't have his heart to guide him but…

“It's like everytime I see him, every time I am close, my magic, it pulls towards him. It gets excited as if it has seen someone that's been away for a very long time.” 

It was that same pull. The one he’d felt the first time they met in the square that had led Seonghwa to let the stranger trail him into the bar. He was intrigued, yet confused. Uncertain of what his magic was trying to tell him.

An intense yearning for the thieving man who had attempted to pull wool over his eyes was hardly what he had anticipated. And yet, fate had placed them on intersecting paths, and Seonghwa was determined to uncover the reason why.

“I don’t want to be another villain in Hongjoong’s story,” Seonghwa sighed, his voice scarcely above a whisper.

“And you won’t.” Wooyoung gave a solemn nod, his fingers squeezing lightly around Seonghwa’s. “You have a crew who follows you—not out of obligation, but because of the man you are. A good, honorable man. That has to count for something. Just give him time. I’m sure he’ll be willing to see you for who you truly are.”

“I only hope I’ll be given the chance,” Seonghwa exhales.

 

 

💫

 

 

Creasing the final fold of the parchment, Seonghwa held up the small origami bird in his cupped hands, raising it to eye level to inspect for imperfections. If the folds weren’t exact ,even with enchantments, the bird wouldn’t withstand the turbulent winds that could scatter it mid-flight.

“No paper art at the table,” Wooyoung called over his shoulder, flipping a pancake with theatrical flair.

“It's not paper art. You know as well as I do what shinigami are,” he corrected, distracted by his task.“This letter needs to reach Maddox before he leaves for Capital, so the earlier I send it to catch him the better,” Seonghwa replied, gently adjusting the crooked tip of the bird’s beak. 

“Yeah well, you have your rules, and I have mine. Send it off and set the table before the others come down,” Wooyoung grumbled.

“Sorry, love. I’ll get to it,” Seonghwa acquiesced, lifting his coffee cup to his lips to hide his amused grin. Wooyoung was clearly still stewing over the punishment Seonghwa had issued, and now he was retaliating in his own petty way.

To be fair, Seonghwa did feel a twinge of guilt. Maybe Wooyoung hadn’t been exaggerating about feeling drained. The boy was cooking enough pancakes to feed a small battalion, whisking batter in a large bowl with unnecessary vigor.

Another task for his ever-growing mental list: check in on Wooyoung’s magical reserves, restock their provisions for the journey, have Mingi revisit his illusion work, and—for the love of the stars—track down that damned crystal ball. If he had it, he wouldn’t be forced to rely on Maddox as often. Competent as Maddox was at gathering intel, scrying had never been his strength. Still, he did what he could, offering leads and glimpses that might at least point them in the right direction. 

Seonghwa rose from his seat and walked over to the window, unlatching it with a soft clink and pushing it open wide enough for the paper bird to pass through. Morning light spilled across the sill, catching on the delicate folds of parchment in his palm.

He exhaled slowly, letting a thread of magic slip from his fingers. A subtle shimmer that brushed over the bird’s wings like wind coaxing a sail. The origami creature shivered once, as if waking, and tilted its head.

“Find Maddox,” Seonghwa whispered.

With a gentle toss, he sent the bird into the sky. It caught the breeze immediately, wings beating with surprising strength as it darted upward, veering toward the east.

The aroma of sizzling bacon and eggs soon roused the rest of the sleep-rumpled members from their rooms, each of them shuffling into the kitchen with half-muttered greetings before dispersing to handle their assigned morning tasks. But as Seonghwa’s eyes swept over the group, he noted a conspicuous absence. Hongjoong wasn’t among them. Whatever shred of good mood he’d managed to muster dissolved instantly. His gaze lingered on the stairwell, brow creasing into a frown.

It was only fair that Hongjoong needed space. At least, that’s what Seonghwa told himself. Their already fragile relationship could still be salvaged.Wooyoung had said as much, and Seonghwa was trying to believe it.

One glimpse was all Seonghwa needed to see that yesterday’s meeting had also left its mark on his members. 

Mingi stood at the coffee pot, oil smudged on his cheek, goggle marks still pressed into his skin, same clothes as yesterday. No sleep, clearly. Jongho lingered at the cabinet, staring at the jam jars like he’d forgotten what he was doing. And San, jaw tight, moved with clipped precision beside Seonghwa as he helped him set the table. 

Seonghwa raised his head at the sound of a foot tapping incessantly. Yeosang looked the most worse for wear out of everyone in his frazzled state. Biting his nail absentmindedly and eyes downcast, paying no mind to the things happening around him. 

What was he thinking? Seonghwa was so caught up in his own turmoil he didn't bother to think about how it would affect Yeosang, their dear member who was the most fragile out of all of them. Had he suffered from a nightmare due to the stress from yesterday? Seonghwa didn't think they had any more Sleep Well prepared. Another thing to add to the list of to-dos. 

“Yeosang, dear?” Seonghwa called gently so as to not frighten the boy. “Are you alright, did you suffer a nightmare?” 

Yeosang glanced up, eyes widening a fraction as if he’d been caught doing something wrong. “Hwa, I’m sorry, I tried my best. Please believe me,” he signed quickly, fingers tripping over themselves in a panic.

“You’re not in trouble,” Seonghwa reassured with a gentle smile. “But I’d like to know what stirred all this tension first thing in the morning.”

Yeosang pushed a few strands of loose hair from his eyes gathering his courage, then he signed, his fingers moving with careful precision. “I went to fetch Hongjoong for breakfast. I know he sometimes oversleeps, and I didn’t want you to scold him for missing mealtime… but he wasn’t in his room.”

Seonghwa's frown deepened.

“So you're saying he's gone? Did you look everywhere?” San glowered, aiming his anger and disbelief at innocent Yeosang who flinched inwardly on himself. Seonghwa reached out his arm to wrap around Yeosangs's shoulder afraid he would drop to the ground and cower. “How did he even escape? We're out on the open sea.” 

“You make it sound like he was a prisoner escaping from jail,” Jongho muttered as he brought the remaining dishes from the kitchen and went to work serving himself. 

That… couldn't be possible. 

The castle functioned as a living security system, attuned to every presence within its walls. Had Hongjoong left without a word, Seonghwa would have known at once. The castle would’ve whispered it to him the moment the threshold was crossed.

Closing his eyes, reaching inward past the clutter of conscious thought Seonghwa tapped into the castle’s essence, the quiet thread that tethered him to its walls.Through that channel, he instructed the castle to search for any trace of Hongjoong’s presence. 

To his dismay the castle remained silent. 

His brow knitted in confusion. “Wooyoung can you—” 

Across the room, Wooyoung stood still, one hand resting on the back of a chair. His expression wasn’t puzzled like Seonghwa’s but looked... disappointed.

Their eyes met, Wooyoung shaking his head grimly. “I can’t feel him either,” he said quietly. “He’s not here.”

“Do you think he really left?” Jongho whispered to Mingi.

Hongjoong had disappeared in the middle of the night and it was Seonghwa’s fault. 

“Without a doubt he left. I knew that fucker couldn't be trusted,” San growled, pushing away from the table and nearly colliding with Mingi in his wake.

“Just leave it San,” Wooyoung said tightly, lips drawn in a thin line. 

“ Why? He couldn't have gotten that far,” San tried to reason. 

“Maybe…we should just leave him be,” Mingi offered, rubbing the back of his neck nervously. “He obviously didn't want to stay here with us if he left without a word.” 

San eyes narrowed, scoffing at the indication. “How dumb can you guys be right now? He overheard our plans. Our plans of treason.” 

“But he himself said that he didn't share the same opinions as the King," Jongho cut in. “He hates him and the system as much as we do.” 

San barked a bitter laugh. “You can hate your enemy all you want, but when the right opportunity comes knocking, and the price is high enough? People sell their souls to the devil and won't even think twice about their morals. 

“Shut the hell up San,” Wooyoung barked. 

Heat was gathering around his palms, hot enough to make the wood on the chair beneath his palm creak and warp. 

“You need to get your head out of your ass long enough to see that Hongjoong isn't like that. Honestly, San, your inattentional blindness is impressive.”

“Excuse me? What does that mean?” San said, voice rising at the insult.

Wooyoung, not one to be intimidated by San,smirked, but it was a brittle, bitter thing—more sneer than smile. “It means that not everyone is out to stab you in the back.”

"That's enough," Seonghwa warned, leveling Wooyoung with a disapproving glare.

He should have intervened sooner. San and Wooyoung were too alike in their obstinance. Each armed with sharp tongues and an uncanny ability to wound when provoked, especially when it came to each other. They knew exactly where to aim and how to make it hurt. 

San physically flinched at the jab. His eyes betraying his pain as his face darkened with a flush that crept up from his neck.His chest rose in shallow, uneven breaths, like he was holding something down that threatened to rise. Wooyoung, at least, had the decency to look regretful, dropping his gaze to the floor rather than meeting San’s eyes.

“People stab each other in the back when the odds are against them. It’s been that way since the dawn of time,” San said coldly, his voice clipped with restrained fury. “You and I both know it. It’s in their nature. Isn’t that the kind of crap you’re always preaching, Mr. Celestial?”

He dragged a hand through his hair, the motion rough and frustrated. “Hongjoong is gone, and he’s carrying top-level intel. Plans we’ve risked everything to make. He could sell it to the highest bidder if he wanted to. Then what? It’s our heads on the chopping block. We need to find him.”

“I don't think that’s necessary,” Seonghwa exhaled slowly. “If anything, Hongjoong stressed his intention of staying with his family. He wouldn't do anything to put them in harm's way. If he were to sell us out, I wouldn't put it against the military to somehow rope him into it. Hongjoong is smart enough to know this. He will do well to keep his head low.” 

“So we let him go?” San asked, a hint of doubt in his voice toward Seonghwa’s rationale. 

“Let him spend time with his family peacefully.” Wooyoung eyes had gone back to their normal hue,now glistening wet with unsheathed emotion. “San…he doesn't have that much time left anyway,” Wooyoung reminded them all solemnly. 

Seonghwa’s magic was insistently tugging at his core in protest. Begging him to go out and find Hongjoong. But he couldn’t afford to be ruled by emotion,so he ignored the persistent tugging. 

Inhaling slowly, he lowered himself into his seat at the head of the table and picked up his fork, signaling the end of the conversation. The others followed suit, dragging out their chairs quietly and filling their plates with breakfast, Jongho halfway finished with his already. 

“Sorry, Hwa. I really thought…," Wooyoung dropped off, giving Seonghwa an apologetic look.

Seonghwa could only give him a reassuring smile. He couldn't do much else. Grabbing his fork he took a bite of his pancakes, chewing without really tasting a thing.

The food was cold.

 

 

💫

 

 

Maddox had sent a reply. 

The small paper bird pecking at the window a little after breakfast had ended. Mingi and Jongho went to tend to the shop handling the last of the orders before they closed the shop's doors for the unforeseeable future. After breakfast San had gone off to the upper deck muttering something about training which meant he would be gone for a few hours. That left him, Wooyoung, and Yeosang in the living room. 

Yeosang rose from where he was reading quietly by the hearth to retrieve the bird. Wooyoung groaned lightly at being disturbed from where he was resting his head on Yeosang's shoulder as he dozed on and off.

“Thank you darling,” Seonghwa murmured, taking the paper bird from Yeosang's offered cupped hands. 

He unfolded the wings, prompting the bird to flutter and shake itself out before it lay flat across his lap. 

Inside was Maddox's hastily scrawled message detailing what he had seen during his scrying. He was adamant that this time the location would yield the key they were searching for.

Like he had claimed every time. 

As always, the vision wasn’t straightforward.

Instead of words, Maddox’s visions were never precise, only fragments and echoes stitched together by guesswork and intuition. Sometimes it was a word or two with a simple drawn picture that was easy to decipher. Other times it resembled a jumbled mess of glyphs and encoded numbers that Seonghwa took days to crack. 

Unfortunately for him, this time belonged to the latter. The kind that made his head ache just from looking at it. 

A tap on the shoulder from Yeosang jostled him from his thoughts. "If you keep frowning your face will wrinkle," he signed.

His fingers instinctively flew up to his forehead making Yeosang giggle silently. "You look to be doing better,” Seonghwa noted. 

Yeosang quirked a brow, confused.

"Earlier you looked like you haven't slept.” 

Yeosang stared at him unblinking. “I don’t think any of us have had a wink of sleep.”

“That’s true,” Seonghwa admitted with a wry smile, well aware of the shadows under his own eyes.

Yeosang nodded toward the letter on his lap. “From the looks of that,” he signed.“I don’t think you’ll be getting any sleep anytime soon.”

Seonghwa groaned, knowing the statement to be true. “No, probably not,” he murmured, gathering up the encoded message. He stood with a stretch, cracking his back with a grimace.“I’ll be in my study if I’m needed. Have Mingi brew you some Sleep Well when he gets back,” he added. “And do try to get some rest or you'll end up looking old like your hyung.” 

Yeosang nodded with a shy smile.“Goodluck hyung.”

As he climbed the stairs to his study, Seonghwa kept his eyes on the image sketched across the page, studying it with mounting frustration. The lines meant nothing to him. At least, not yet. Eventually, he’d need to brew some coffee if he hoped to stay awake long enough to make any real progress. His body already felt like lead. Exhaustion pressing down hard enough to blur his focus.

A sharp tug made him stop in the middle of the hall. He had thought his magic had quieted, lulled into silence after the morning's chaos, but it seemed it was stirring again, rising like a tide and crashing against his insides with more force. 

“Hongjoong is not coming back,” Seonghwa muttered, more to himself than anything else, as if saying it aloud might convince his magic to listen, to settle. But the tug only came more persistent, ignoring Seonghwa defiantly. 

“Fine. Tire yourself out. See if I care,” he sighed, the fight draining from his voice. 

Moving listlessly, Seonghwa pressed his hand to the glowing sigil that unlocked the door to his study and let himself in without ceremony. The soft rustling of pages caught his attention. He stopped short, barely getting the chance to step fully into the room. There, slouched in his chair with feet casually propped atop the desk, sat Hongjoong. His gaze was fixed on one of Seonghwa’s spellbooks, brows furrowed in concentration.

His magic was singing in delight. 

“If you keep frowning like that you're going to get wrinkles.” 

“Bloody hell!” Hongjoong yelped, clutching the book closer in surprise. He narrowed his eyes when he realized who had come into the room. 

“Hongjoong, what are you doing here?” Seonghwa asked. He was stuck between confusion and relief. He couldn't help himself. He moved closer to the desk as if he was staring at a mirage and he wanted to make sure it was real.

“What's it look like I'm doing? I'm reading,” Hongjoong said, lifting the book to make a point.

Seonghwa shook his head trying to make sense of it. “No that's not what—” 

Hongjoong sighed, taking his feet off the table and sitting up straight. “If you're going to go on about breaking rules. You said locked doors and technically the door was unlocked on my part.” 

“No, that's not—” What? “Why was it unlocked?” 

The sigil was intact when he used it just now. It shouldn't have opened without his biometric signature.

“I wanted some time to think for myself,” he explained without looking up. “Didn’t feel like sitting through breakfast with the lot of you, so I asked Shippy to show me a place where I could hide for a while. Next thing I knew, I was standing in front of this door… and it opened.”

Seonghwa’s lips parted, his breath catching for a moment. “Hongjoong—”

“What?” Hongjoong cut in, his voice rising a notch in defensiveness. “I deserve a little space, don’t you think?”

“You do,” Seonghwa tried to placate. He didn't want to upset Hongjoong when he had just found him. He still hadn't gotten the opportunity to apologize to him yet. “What I was trying to get at was… how should I put it?” he rolled his lips trying to think of a way to explain without upsetting Hongjoong further. 

“Hongjoong, you shouldn’t be able to command the castle the way you do,” Seonghwa said carefully, lifting a hand to pause him the moment he saw his eyes darken with offense. “It doesn’t work like that—magically speaking. When I first designed the ship, I imbued it with a piece of my life force, my magic. It recognizes me as its master. That bond isn’t transferable. The only exception is Wooyoung—and that’s because he’s celestial.” 

This wasn't the first time something like this had happened. The castle had been responding to Hongjoong ever since he stepped aboard.  

“Do you not know that the castle hid your presence completely. I used my link with the castle to find you and the search came up empty. It acted as if you weren't here at all.” 

First, his magic had become enamored with Hongjoong and refused to listen to him. Now the castle was doing the same. Seonghwa wanted to laugh, feeling a strange sort of amusement about the ordeal.

“Wooyoung couldn't even sense your energy source anymore. We had all believed you had left.”

“I did leave,” Hongjoong stated quietly, looking Seonghwa straight in the eyes. “Well tried to. Shippy wouldn't exactly let me,” he corrected, shrugging his shoulders like the difference didn't drive a nail straight through Seonghwa's chest. 

That was right. Seonghwa was horrible. Here he was elated to have Hongjoong still here when all Hongjoong wanted was to return home. Jongho’s quip about Hongjoong being a prisoner in the castle wasn't far off. 

“Hongjoong, I want to formally apologize to you.”Seonghwa swiftly got down on his knees, head bowed low, not out of formality, but shame. The kind that had been festering quietly inside him for far too long.

“I made you a promise I wasn't able to keep. I told you I could break your curse. I told you I could help you with your pain, but I only made it worse by keeping you here without showing you anything for it. I talked myself up like I was some experienced Wizard who was capable of doing everything when in reality I am capable of doing nothing,” he swallowed, throat tightening. “You don't have to forgive me and I know you are scared of running out of time. But please let me try. I know…if you just let me try I can— I will find a way to break your curse.” 

Seonghwa waited with bated breath. Hongjoong wasn’t obligated to agree to anything. He could yell, throw a fit, destroy everything in the room and Seonghwa would let him. If he asked to be taken home and left alone for good, Seonghwa would do it, even if it was the last thing he wanted. He’d do it. For Hongjoong.

Hongjoong cleared his throat, and Seonghwa’s ears pricked at the sound, listening intently for his response. 

“You know, I snooped through your study. It's what I do. I snoop,” Hongjoong said casually, standing from behind the desk and walking over to the bookshelf. “You have a ridiculous amount of books.And most of them are boring as hell. Binding techniques, alchemical transmutation, catalogues of flora... But then I saw one sitting out on the desk. Open.” 

Seonghwa's eyes darted over to the book that Hongjoong had been reading at his desk mentally hitting himself for not realizing sooner which spellbook had caught his interest. 

“A grimoire. Black magic. Spells that look like they shouldn’t exist.”

Seonghwa opened his mouth, dread seeping into his bones, but Hongjoong wasn’t done.

“So I kept snooping.” He crossed the room to Seonghwa’s desk and pulled open the drawer. From within, he produced a folded cluster of parchment and notes. “And I found these.”

He stepped closer, unfolding one to scan. “My name’s on almost all of them,” he said in hushed disbelief. “Notes, diagrams, spell fragments,lists of ingredients I’ve never even heard of. One of these is labeled ‘If conventional methods fail — other possibilities’. Another one just says ‘Too dangerous unless absolutely necessary’.”

Hongjoong looked up, his expression unreadable. Was he angry that Seonghwa hadn’t been adequate—that he hadn’t found a cure quickly enough? That the only real leads had come from grimoires steeped in black magic? Most regarded that kind of magic as a stain on the world, a practice born of desperation and corruption. Maybe Hongjoong shared their same views. Maybe he saw Seonghwa’s efforts as a betrayal rather than help. The Wicked Witch had used black magic to create the curse. He could feel conflicted about using the same methods to reverse it.

“You’ve been working on this this whole time?” Hongjoong said. 

Seonghwa gritted his teeth and nodded his head stiffly.

Hongjoong shook the paper in frustration. “Why didn't you say anything? I thought you had pushed my matter aside for your own agenda.” 

Seonghwa’s mouth was dry, not knowing exactly how to respond. “I— I didn’t want to get your hopes up. The solutions I've found so far aren't ideal.”  

He had stayed up late most nights, scouring through his books in the study, searching for a way to break Hongjoong’s curse. As he had feared, the Witch of the Waste had woven the curse so intricately that there were barely any loopholes to exploit. Every possible solution he uncovered either required losing the very limb the curse had targeted or demanded copious amounts of blood sacrifice.

“I know. I saw the results,” he said, making a face. Hongjoong dropped the notes back onto the desk, then leaned against its edge facing Seonghwa. 

“But you are trying. And for that, I want to say… thank you.” He turned his head quickly, one hand covering his mouth, ears flushing red, but Seonghwa had heard him.

“Please, don't thank me for something I haven't achieved yet.” He didn't deserve thanks for finding dud leads and dead ends.

“I can count on one hand the people who’ve ever truly helped me. There aren’t many,” he said, eyes full of resentment and resignation. “I learned early on that if something was broken, I had to fix it myself. No one else would. Asking for help… it doesn’t come easy. It feels like admitting I’m not strong enough to handle it on my own.” Hongjoong paused, wringing his fingers and staring down at them with a frown. It took everything in Seonghwa not to take those hands in his own, and soothe the tension he could feel radiating from him.

“And when you offered—when you kept offering—it made me angry. Not at you. At myself. Because I didn’t want to need that help. I didn’t want to rely on anyone. But I do. And I hate that I do.” 

“Darling.” The petname slipped out before Seonghwa could stop it.

“I'm still coming to terms with someone wanting to help me,” he continued. “I'm used to the concept of give and take. Not receiving and giving nothing in return. So please, understand I might lash out and become a little stubborn here and there.”

“Are you giving me another chance?” Seonghwa asked cautiously.

Hongjoong gave him a loaded look, one of clarity and determination. “I've come to the conclusion that you won't abandon me in my suffering. I will put my trust in you again. Don't take it lightly.” 

“I won't. I will follow with whatever you want, Hongjoong,” he said, feeling his body becoming lighter. 

“What I want is for you to get off the floor,” Hongjoong grouched. “You're making me uncomfortable." Hongjoong shuffled back straightening from his slouch against the desk. From this position he was towering over Seonghwa's form.

Seonghwa smiled wide and bright, taking joy in the way Hongjoong’s cheeks were flushed. “Really? I quite prefer this position at your feet.”

“Shut up,” Hongjoong groaned, kicking out his foot lightly into Seonghwa's side. “What's that?” 

Seonghwa looked over to the thing that Hongjoong was referring to having momentarily forgotten about the letter he had come to decode. 

“Ah, this?” Seonghwa picked up the paper and moved beside Hongjoong to lay it out on the desk for him to see. This close his magic finally settled back in his core, content at the proximity.

“Maddox isn't just our way of getting intel in the ways of the kingdom and the military. He's also half wizard. He specializes in scrying magic, but because he doesn't have pure wizard blood the visions he has aren't as clear. He's the only scrying mage I know, so he's been helping us with finding possible locations of the key we've been looking for. This morning he sent the next location he saw in his vision.” 

“Hmm, I see,” Hongjoong hummed, looking down at the image with a downturn of his mouth. 

“This doesn't mean that I'll cease researching cures for your curse. I'll be doing both so don't worry,” he backtracked trying to reassure Hongjoong he wouldn't go back on this word.

Hongjoong didn't say anything for a moment as he studied the paper. “Can I help?” 

Seonghwa's brows raised in surprise.“You want to help?” 

“If you don't want me to I can go,” he said, nonchalantly turning to leave the room.

Seonghwa’s hand dashed out in a panic, clasping on to Hongjoong's sleeve to stop him. “No, no please help me. I would appreciate the assistance.” 

Hongjoong glanced down at the offending hand with a quirk of his brow. With a muttered apology Seonghwa quickly let go mentally giving himself a stern talking to about personal boundaries. 

“Please, take a seat,” Seonghwa offered out of courtesy.

There were two available chairs in Seonghwa's study that he kept for when the boys got bored and wanted to bother him while he was working. Hongjoong forgoed them in lieu of lifting himself up to sit on the edge of the desk.

They stared at each other for a few seconds, Seonghwa in shock, Hongjoong with a challenge in his eyes. Seonghwa was the first to back down, sighing as he decided it was better to not comment on how unsanitary it was for one to place their buttocks on surfaces it didn't belong. 

“What I gathered thus far is that it's a constellation,” he explained, ignoring Hongjoong's triumphant grin. “You see these lines and dots. They connect like a constellation would.” 

At the bottom of Maddox’s message were a series of dots scattered across the paper in different sizes. Lines connected some of the dots. Some glowed faintly, twinkling and then fading out like stars would in the night sky.

“However, the ones that are glowing here are odd. They don't represent any constellation in the star system from my knowledge."

“Do visions typically have straight forward meanings?” Hongjoong asked curiously.

“Sometimes. But in Maddox's case you would consider yourself lucky if you're able to figure out one part of his vision in under a day.” 

Hongjoong considered this, then abruptly went off towards the bookshelf. Flitting around until he pulled out the books he had been in search of.

He seemed well acquainted with Seonghwa's bookshelf for having only been in here for the better half of the morning. 

Hongjoong returned hopping back up onto the desk with his prize in tow. “We can start with this.” 

“Codex Stellaris: Constellations and The Ancient Art of Alignment and Astral Patterns and the Binding Fates?” Seonghwa read aloud. 

“I figure we begin with the basics before we start going off on tangents trying to think outside of the box. You know, cover all grounds,” he said with a shrug.

Seonghwa takes one of the books, feeling how thick and heavy it is in his palms. “That sounds like a solid plan," he said with a small smile. "And seeing as this book might take a while... how about we get comfortable?"

“Just say you don't want my butt on your desk Hwa,” Hongjoong said. 

Seonghwa chuckled, leaning his chin on his palm, “Oh, I don’t mind the view. I just don’t want the desk getting ideas.”

With a quickness Hongjoong was off the desk, fleeing to the armchair on the other side of the study. “Stop playing around and get to reading. I don't plan on being here all day,” he snapped, looking flustered.  

Seonghwa watched Hongjoong settle into the armchair, legs curling up into the cushions to fit comfortably. The familiar flicker of determination lit his eyes as he opened the book and started to read from the pages. Hunkering down himself Seonghwa cracked open his own book and tried to focus on astral patterns and not Hongjoong's presence just a few feet away.

 

 

💫

 

 

“Hwa! Hwa wake up! I cracked the code.” 

Seonghwa’s eyes flew open, his senses sharpening instantly. Hongjoong stood before him, practically humming with kinetic energy. Energy Seonghwa didn’t yet possess. 

“I was sleeping?” 

“Yeah, only for a few hours,” he dismissed with a wave of his hand.

“Hours?” He had only planned to close his eyes for a minute.

“That's not the point,” Hongjoong rushed on, too wired to slow down. “The point is—I cracked the code. Mostly.”

As his mind finally clicked into gear, Seonghwa sat up straighter, blinking away the fog. “Already? Did you find the answer in that book you were reading?”

“Oh, that? No. It became boring after I got to the chapter describing the physics behind the distance of stars. I hate math, so I stopped halfway through,” he explained sheepishly. “But I had this gut feeling that the answer lied in the picture somehow.”

“Gut feeling?” Seonghwa echoed.

“Yes, my gut is reliable, I hope you know,” Hongjoong said, nose tilting up. “Anyhow, I’d been staring at the paper for so long my vision went blurry and that's when I saw that the dots and lines weren't representing a constellation.” 

Hongjoong shoved the paper closer to show his findings, his fingers pointing to one of the dots that was faintly glowing. “You see this? Stars don’t twinkle in patterns like this. You were right before, this formation doesn’t match any known constellation. It's because it's morse code.” 

Seonghwa was vaguely familiar with morse code. He understood that sailors and sometimes military soldiers used it as a form of communication. He glanced at Hongjoong with curiosity, Hongjoong catching it and answering before the question could leave his mouth.

“I learned morse code with my brother Yunho. We used it to talk after lights out, when Mother Hyo-jin insisted we sleep,” he chuckled, reminiscing about the memory. “It's pretty easy after you understand which symbols align with each letter.” 

He traced a section near the left side of the page. “This cluster here? Dot, dash, dash, dot—it spells out ‘N.’ Then here—dash, dash, dash—that’s ‘O.’ And so on.” He looked up, a glint of satisfaction in his eyes. “It spells North.”

He slid his finger to another grouping on the opposite end. “And over here, same thing. Dots and dashes, this one spells San. But, I don't know what San has to do with the whereabouts of the key so I'm kind of at a loss,” he admitted, visibly stumped.

“You've already figured out so much,” he praised, genuinely impressed. “It's a lot quicker than I would have managed on my own.” 

“Does San have anything to do with the North? Did he used to live there?” Hongjoong thought aloud, not satisfied. 

Seonghwa shook his head. “No, San’s from a small eastern village beyond Capital. But maybe... maybe it isn’t about him specifically," he murmured.

Suddenly Seonghwa remembered something. He reached for the book he had been reading before falling asleep, flipping through the pages until he landed on the one he had in mind: a drawing of a bear standing tall on a mountain peak.

“Callisto and Arcas,” he read aloud. “Callisto, a follower of Artemis, lived in the mountains and hunted wild beasts. After she gave birth to Zeus' child, Arcas, she was transformed into a bear by Hera. Later, Zeus placed them both in the sky as Ursa Major and Ursa Minor.”

Hongjoong groaned, raking a hand through his already tousled hair. “Okay, great mythology lesson, but what does that have to do with the key?”

Setting the book down Seonghwa went to a drawer, pulling out a rolled-up map of the star system that was stationed over the continent. He spread it across the desk, the parchment curling at the corners, his fingers moved with growing certainty. 

“The idea of it being a constellation wasn't just there to throw us off. It was pointing us toward a specific one. Ursa Minor.” He tapped the center of the constellation’s arc with his finger.

“Ursa Minor holds the North Star, and that’s often used for navigation. Now think about the name San—the character used for it means mountain."

He looked up at Hongjoong, his tone calm but assured. “So if you put that together, San as mountain and Ursa Minor as the constellation tied to the North Star. We’re being told to go north. Toward a mountain. Maybe even using the north star to guide us there.

“That makes sense,” he nodded, looking at the map with renewed interest. “The closest mountain range to the north would be the Silverlight Peaks.”

“Then that’s where we’ll go,” Seonghwa replied firmly.

Hongjoong leaned back slightly, still staring at the northern stretch of the map. “Let’s just hope whatever key you’re chasing is actually there.”

“Thank you Hongjoong.”

The words came softly, almost too quiet for the moment they carried. 

Seonghwa’s gaze lingered on him taking it all in. Hongjoong had forgiven him. He had given him a second chance to redeem himself. He had helped him when he knew nothing about how much finding the key really meant to him.

“For a lot of things.” 

Before Hongjoong could ask what he meant, Seonghwa closed the distance. His hand curled gently behind Hongjoong’s neck, and he kissed him.

 

 

 

Notes:

I just love the dynamic between Seonghwa and Wooyoung!!! It was my first time writing a spicy scene so I'm a little embarrassed. But more will come in the future no doubt.

Chapter 6: Let's Meet in the Middle

Notes:

Hey Atiny!

Sorry it's been taking me so long to post. I'm writing this story as I go. To say a few things this chapter will be a bit shorter (sorry). It was originally finished like 2 weeks ago but I wasn't happy with it and kept editing. Then I decided to put a new POV in the beginning of this chapter. So yes, I will try to have for at least everyone to have their own POV.

Also, I would like to apologize for those who are waiting for Yunho... I SWEAR HE IS COMING!

it's just that the chapter after this is probably going to be super long ( don't know yet..)

 

Okay for tags

*mentions of dead bodies

 

💫

 

 

 

Wooyoung swung his legs back and forth absentmindedly as he surveyed the charred remains of what was once the village of Aurora.

There wasn’t much for him to do other than keep watch. He hadn’t received an order just yet, which puzzled the demon. It made his skin itch to remain idle.

Long ago, most humans had no qualms about attempting to exploit celestial power, emphasis on the attempt. But then again, long ago there weren't many witches and wizards. Perhaps those who carried magic in their blood had less need to rely on other sources of power.Or maybe it was a pride thing. 

Humans and their pride.

“Are you sure you don’t need my assistance?” Wooyoung called out, jumping down from his perch atop of a few toppled pieces of timber. He skirted out of the way, narrowly avoiding stepping on a corpse that was laid out in the row that had been organized. Grimacing down at the husk that harboured no life, Wooyoung jogged his way across the ash-streaked earth towards the young man that he now called his vessel. 

Seonghwa knelt beside a freshly dug hole. It was one of many he had carved into the scorched ground by hand. No magic, no shortcuts, only sweat and sheer will.

Wooyoung had to admit, it was impressive. As soon as the sun had broken over the muddled gray horizon, Seonghwa had risen. Now, hours later, he was glazed in sweat, his clothes singed and bloodied, every inch of him caked in dirt. But the graves he’d dug bore quiet testament to his resolve. 

He hadn't spoken once. Not to Wooyoung. Not even to mutter to himself to complain.

He was a very prideful human indeed. 

Wooyoung had come into existence only yesterday, but even he wasn’t naive enough to be fooled by Seonghwa’s silence.

Wasn’t grief supposed to be loud? Raw? Screaming, sobbing, breaking things. Anything to make the world reflect what had been lost. But Seonghwa’s face remained unreadable, his features blank, not a single crack.

It wasn’t healthy. Wooyoung feared it would fester inside him, curdling into something far worse. It was too neatly buried, pressed down where it could rot. He would surely need to let it out somehow. Lest it tear him apart from the inside.

Wooyoung felt it through the bond. That pressure. That ache.

It was his duty to keep his vessel alive until Seonghwa’s vengeance was fulfilled. That was the nature of their bond. Nothing more.

And yet, what could Wooyoung do now but stand by in silence?

Just because they were bound by contract, just because he now held dominion over Seonghwa’s heart and soul, didn’t mean Seonghwa wanted to share it with him, even if Wooyoung had offered to help carry it. He was doing his best to keep it under lock and key.

He stared down into the hole and felt a tendril of something foreign. A feeling that was not his own filling his chest that was absent before his awakening. 

This must have been what humans called emotion. 

It… hurt. 

Was it supposed to hurt?

Celestials weren’t built to feel. They did not carry their own emotions.They fed on others instead, manipulated it, and harvested what they needed to survive. 

But Wooyoung felt no hunger for Seonghwa’s grief. He didn’t want to siphon it. He wanted to understand it. To ease it, if he could.

Maybe he was defective. 

“No,” came the belated reply. 

It was a one word response, but Wooyoung could hear the message inside of it loud and clear. Seonghwa wanted to be left alone.

Wooyoung didn't feel like he should be. He had been staring into the upturned earth for minutes now and hadn't bothered to start filling it up like he had done the previous ones. 

Inside laid a small body, swathed in a cloak. This one in particular was causing Seonghwa the most pain. The borrowed heart in his chest kept constricting, squeezing to the point that Wooyoung was sure that it would give out right before he even made proper use of the fragile thing. 

And it was so perilously fragile. Seonghwa's heart. 

He wanted it to stop. 

If it was for Seonghwa's sake or his own, he couldn't distinguish.

He tried again. This time trying to appeal to the wizard. “You must be famished. We could find you something to eat. And even find you some clothes to change into. You must be feeling quite uncomfortable right about now.” For he had scavenged some clothing for Wooyoung to wear but foregone changing from his own scorched garments. 

He didn't respond. Seonghwa’s hands sank deeper into the dirt. Fingers burrowing into the earth as if he could root himself there stubbornly. His back hunched, shoulders locked high in defiance. 

Wooyoung licked his lips, the skin dry from the heat trapped in the village. It would only get hotter. Unsuitable for a mortal.

Barely a day with his vessel and Wooyoung was already doing a shitty job. What Celestial couldn't keep there contracted alive until conditions were met? Wooyoung was becoming impatient and the sensation that kept pulsing in his chest wasn't helping. 

He tried a different approach. This method would be more practical. And truer to what he was good at. They needed to move forward one way or another.

He cleared his throat, moving closer, enough to whisper in Seonghwa's ear. “With a flame hot enough, I could clear out the rest of the bodies in no time. Then we could finally leave this drab little graveyard and you can rest for a while,” he offered, hoping that the idea would produce the results he wanted. 

It did almost instantly.

Wooyoung remembered that grief had many faces, and one of them was fury. Seonghwa's anger was what brought him here, what had called to him. And it was the only part of Seonghwa that he didn’t bother to hide away from Wooyoung. 

He witnessed his results with amazement. Magic was gliding off his skin. So much so that he had to take several steps back before he squared himself in place. That's how powerful it was. It was wild. Unstable.

And the origin of this unbridled magic stemmed from Seonghwa. 

It started to crackle through the air around him. Flaring out like lightning bolts, striking without aim. 

Seonghwa was exploding. 

Better now than later when it got too hard for him to handle. 

A bolt collided with a rock, shattering it in an instant. Another struck the edge of a dug grave, sending a spray of dirt high into the air.

Small waves of it kept directing themselves at Wooyoung. Like a rod he absorbed them easily, taking them in to feed his own power reflexively. Rage. Grief. Fear. Pain. He absorbed it all from Seonghwa. It was loud, the emotions. But he would not falter. They were a part of Seonghwa so in turn Wooyoung would make them a part of him.

A tremendous crack struck too close, a sharp explosion ringing beside one of the shrouded bodies. That was enough to pull Seonghwa back to himself.

“Stop!” Seonghwa shouted, the word fracturing at the edges as it broke from his throat. “I don't want this Wooyoung. Please!” 

“You need it, Seonghwa,” Wooyoung replied calmly.

“Did you see? Did you see inside my thoughts?” he asked frantically.

If only he could, then this would have been easier for the both of them.“I don't need to see inside of your thoughts to know you are suffering. Your heart reveals it to me loud and clear.” 

Seonghwa jerked back from the grave, wrapping his arms around himself, clutching at his elbows like he was trying to hold it all inside. Like he could physically restrain the grief threatening to burst free from his chest. When Wooyoung wanted the opposite.

Seonghwa was acting as though breaking down, even for a moment, would cost him something vital. 

Mourning was not a weakness. It wasn't something shameful.

Wasn’t this good? Wasn’t this what he needed?

"Let it out!" He wanted to convey. "Let it out! Break and destroy on the outside so you won't on the inside!"

But Wooyoung couldn't find it in him to scream the words of reason at Seonghwa. 

Seonghwa's body shook with tremors, shoulders drawn so tight they nearly touched his ears, as if any release would be too much, too dangerous.

Wooyoung's resolve wavered. 

Why did Seonghwa look as if he’d done something wrong? 

His breaths came quick and shallow, each one a near-sob that never fully formed. Yet still, no tears fell. His eyes stayed wide, glassy and vacant, stripped of expression. 

He was hollowing himself out. Not because he didn’t feel. But because he felt too much.

Wooyoung felt it all. Every jagged emotion, roaring beneath the surface. It surged through their bond like floodwater pressing against a dam.

It hurt like hell. 

Seonghwa was punishing himself. 

Why? 

Why? 

Why? 

Wooyoung wanted to know. He understood so much and didn't understand Seonghwa at all.

Seonghwa continued to breathe in and out, slowly, mechanically, until the last flickers of wild magic dimmed and retreated back into him. Wooyoung could sense it easing, the final embers sinking beneath Seonghwa’s skin where they could smolder, unseen.

“I’ve already told you,” he started, voice rough, frayed from exhaustion. “I do not want your help…not with this.” 

He rose unsteadily, swaying slightly on his feet before regaining his balance. He turned those empty eyes on Woooyoung. And the demon actually flinched. 

He didn't like it one bit, those vacant eyes.

“This is mine to carry.They’ve suffered enough. More fire would only add to their despair,” his words dropped off, cutting out as if the next words were too hard to get out. He grimaced, which was the first real feature he let show upon his face.  “The least I can do is give them a proper burial as the only survivor. I owe them that at least.” With that said Seonghwa ended their short conversation with no room for argument.

As if on autopilot Seonghwa retrieved the rusted spade he’d been using in place of a shovel. Shoving the tip into the earth with force, he paused only briefly. His hands were tight on the handle, knuckles white by the force of his grip. Then he sighed and began filling the small grave one heavy scoop at a time with energy Wooyoung didn't know he still had in him.

Wooyoung wasn't sure what to do next. He was at a loss. He stepped back, not because he wanted to, but because Seonghwa had made it clear he needed space. 

He wandered off. Far enough to give Seonghwa space, but close enough to be near if needed. He didn't want to lose sight of him in case he passed out under the sweltering sun. 

He crouched down near the remains of a house, still standing unlike most of them that had burned completely to the ground. Finding a broken off splinter of wood he busied himself with scratching random lines into the dirt while sulking to himself. 

Had he really made things worse…

It was stupid of him to have done that he concluded. His words hadn’t helped. Of course they hadn’t. 

He was a celestial. Even if his intentions were to help ease Seonghwa’s pain, he did exactly as he was innately supposed to do. Cause more destruction so his body could fuel itself to continue living. 

And there was so much energy that Wooyoung didn't know what to do with it all.

Seonghwa was right about the despair.It was everywhere. The leftover emotions and anguish. So strong that it still lingered in the air and seeped into the ground beneath his feet.

It's what he used to transform his new body. It would be very inconvenient for him if he walked around with the body of a celestial, his kind having been thought to be extinct for years. A mortal body wouldn't stand out.  

He peered down at the hand that wasn't holding on to the wood. He flexed it repeatedly making a fist. The skin that stretched over his knuckles was no longer obsidian and cracked, trying to keep its form. It was smooth and sun kissed like that of any other human.

The broken glass from the house's window reflected the light, catching his eye. He couldn't resist coming closer to observe himself in the reflection. 

The boy that stared back at him did not resemble a celestial. His curved horns had all but disappeared. His claws were blunt and round, replaced as delicate nails, less likely to tear anything apart. Curiously he opened his mouth, running his tongue over his teeth that lacked sharpness. They had turned docile in shape. He looked… soft. Unthreatening.

If anyone saw him now, they’d walk right past him. Never suspecting that he was capable of ending bloodlines. Destroying legacies. Maybe that's why Seonghwa also didn't want him to help. Because he was afraid if he interfered he would ruin things further. 

And he might look human now but that didn't change what he was capable of. 

In the reflection Wooyoung’s eyes started to flicker. Black to red and then back to black. A glint trying to catch on burning coals. He wondered if his body was still adjusting to his new form, trying to balance itself out with the influx of energy. He stared at his reflection. At his eyes that wouldn't choose a color.His hand touched the glass transfixed. The surface wasn't hot from the fires like he had thought it would be. It was surprisingly cool. He got lost in the sensation, in the reflection that seemed to try to speak to him. 

“Wooyoung, what's wrong?”

Startled, Wooyoung’s hand dropped from the glass to rest at his side listlessly. He shut his eyes trying to control the sudden surge without Seonghwa seeing. 

“Why do you ask?” He blinked his eyes slowly when he thought he had achieved his goal. The orbs were back to a reasonable mortal color. Abandoning the reflection he instead picked up his stick, busying himself with his drawings once more. 

Seonghwa stood a few feet away, a new streak of dirt smudged across his forehead, arms still half-wrapped around a tarp he hadn’t yet set down. 

When Seonghwa didn’t answer right away, Wooyoung finally looked up.

He expected a scolding, maybe more silence. But instead, Seonghwa’s expression had softened—if only a little. There was a light in his eyes, not the emptiness that was there prior. 

What had changed?

“About earlier…,” Seonghwa began, voice low and unsure. 

Ah, that's what it was. Wooyoung felt it niggling its way through to the forefront from the rest of his emotions. 

Loneliness and remorse. 

He was scared that Wooyoung had abandoned him. 

“Oh.” Seonghwa's eyes widened a fraction. “I didn't know celestials could cry,” Seonghwa murmured. 

When Wooyoung reached up to wipe his face, his fingertips came away wet.

Tears.

Not heat or ash or flame.Tears.

He was surely a defective celestial. 

Wooyoung tilted his head, perplexed at the sudden wetness that was gathering from his eyes. “They don't,” he said quietly. “I didn’t mean to distract you,” Wooyoung mumbled, wiping his eyes quickly with the back of his hand. “I'm still here. You don't need to worry. I will not be leaving you any time soon. You can go back to… what you were doing.”

Seonghwa tensed, looking down and away from Wooyoung. There was some guilt there. He shouldn't feel guilty. Wooyoung was the one at fault. 

“…Are you alright?”

“I...I  don’t know,” he admitted.“I think there is an imbalance. I'm still adjusting to your heart through our bond.” It felt as though he were behind his own eyes, watching it all play out from a step removed. “Being human is very strange.” 

Seonghwa studied him carefully, as if searching for something out of place. Wooyoung couldn't figure out what it could be.

Very gently, Seonghwa set the tarp down and stepped closer. His hand hovered midair, uncertain. For a moment, Wooyoung thought he would pull back. He wouldn’t have blamed him. After everything, after losing everyone, what room was left for tenderness?

But Seonghwa’s fingers only hovered a second longer before they pushed past his hesitation. He brushed away the tear tracing down Wooyoung’s cheek, so careful the touch barely registered against his skin. Wooyoung was not meant to be handled like fragile glass. But he felt as though he would break if Seonghwa were to remove his fingers.

“I'm sorry I snapped at you earlier,” he murmured the apology. “You were only trying to help, weren't you. I could feel it.” Seonghwa pressed the place on his chest where his heart used to beat.

“I don't believe I did a good job at it,” he said, frowning down at the hand cupping his cheek. 

“Yes, well we have time to work on that,” Seonghwa said. Then he smiled. A small one, quick and gone as soon as it came, but Wooyoung had witnessed it. 

Wooyoung's mouth gaped open, then closed, before breaking into a wide grin himself. Something new and bright forming, warming him from the inside out. 

“I think we are both due for a break, don't you?” Seonghwa sighed as his stomach nondiscreetly growled out its demand for food. “How about something to eat? You were right, I'm famished.”    

“Then please let me cook something for you. I would like to try,” Wooyoung insisted, wanting to do anything at all to make up for his mistake. 

“Can celestials cook?” Seonghwa asked, faintly amused by his enthusiasm.

“I don't know,” he shrugged. “We celestials don't particularly need to sustain ourselves with food. But I understand the concept of it. Shouldn't be too hard,” he thought aloud. 

“If you are better than I am then by all means please. Out of the two of us, someone will have to be the cook.”

Wooyoung got to planning, crouching back down and picking up his stick turned quill. “Rice? Do we even have rice? Do I have to catch something to make broth? Fish stew, maybe… if I had fish…” He glanced around at the crumbling remains of the village as if expecting a pantry to appear from the ruins. 

This was going to be a challenge.

He dragged the stick through the dirt again, idly etching swirls and lines, then letters. Half-formed thoughts. Seonghwa sat beside him watching him plan out what they could possibly find for a meal.

“Hongjoong,” Seonghwa whispered. 

“Hmm?” he hummed half listening, half distracted as he continued writing. 

“What you're writing. You've written the name quite a lot. Do you prefer this name instead of the name I've chosen for you?” he asked Wooyoung tentatively. 

In the dirt, scratched over and over in uneven lines, was the same name.

Hongjoong. 

Spelled out repeatedly in jagged, looping strokes like he’d been desperate to pull it from his mind and put it somewhere else.

The name felt familiar. Yet it wasn't.

Wooyoung tried to reciprocate his smile from before, but it didn’t quite land. “Of course not. I love the name you've chosen for me. I wouldn't change it for the world. It's nothing. Just a random thought I had.” 

Then, as if to erase the moment entirely, Wooyoung dragged his foot through the dirt and smeared the name away. 

“Is there another source of water that lies closer to the village other than the lake that dried up?” 

Seonghwa raised a brow at Wooyoung skeptically, but quickly let it go with the mention of water. “There's a small stream. But it's a few miles walk away. We would have to start now if we want to make it there in time before nightfall.” The sun was beginning to dip, throwing long shadows across the wreckage of Aurora. 

“Then lead the way. I will follow,” he stood, wanting to get away as soon as possible. 

Muttering to himself about remaining vigil in case of any stray soldiers appearing, Seongwa started off towards the direction of the stream. 

Wooyoung glanced back at the broken window. His eyes flickered once more in the reflection before returning back to black.

It would surely pass, he thought to himself. He just needed time to adjust. Besides, he had other things to focus on. 

He hurried after his vessel, already forgetting the name he had scratched into the dirt. 

 

💫

 

Wooyoung muttered a curse, gritting his teeth. He turned on the faucet,shoving his hands beneath the stream. Cupping the water, he splashed his face, hoping the cold would do the trick. 

“Come on, come on, come on.” 

Dragging a hand down his face, he wiped away the dripping water and looked back at his reflection in the mirror.

His eyes finally had stopped flickering, returning to the black orbs he had grown accustomed to. 

He let out a tired exhale.

Behind him Yeosang stared at him wide eyed with worry. 

“It's fine. See, I have it under control,” he assured him, turning off the faucet with forced nonchalance.  

Yeosang didn’t respond. He just looked at him, longer than necessary.

“Instead of just standing there can you hand me a towel?” Wooyoung asked, annoyed. 

Yeosang pursed his lips but did as told,  leaning over and reaching for the patterned floral towel from the rack. He passed it to Wooyoung who thanked him quietly. 

“You said it would stop.” 

He should have known that Yeosang wouldn't have dropped the matter so easily. “Are we not looking at the same thing? Look!” he pointed to his face. “No flashy eyes.” 

“Yes. Until the next time it happens again,” Yeosang refuted. 

“Wooyoung snorted through his nose.“Yeah… well.” He didn't have anything of substance to follow up with that. 

He didn’t know when it would trigger again, only that it would. And it was happening with increasing frequency. So far, he’d managed to hide the episodes from Seonghwa, conjuring elaborate excuses and distractions, especially now that their crew had grown. It just so happened that during one of his triggers Yeosang had been present to witness it. He was good for that. Being in the wrong place at the right time. 

“When are you going to tell Seonghwa?” Yeosang pressed. 

“Seonghwa can't find out.”

This wasn't something Seonghwa could fix with magic. Wooyoung had a vague understanding of what was happening with himself. If his growing suspicions were correct, then there wasn't anything anyone could do to help him. He just had to ride it out and pray it resolved before they found the Cromer.

Momentarily he became distracted, head snapping to the side slightly as a shift happened in the magical current surrounding the castle, a ripple in the air only he was able to sense.

Hongjoong…had returned? 

Since when? 

“This is absurd,” Yeosang threw his hands up in frustration, calling Wooyoung's attention back to him. “I know you're afraid but we can't keep this between us anymore. If we just tell Seonghwa I'm sure—” 

“You won't be doing no such thing,” he snapped, eyes flashing vibrantly. “You finding out was a mistake already. I meant it when I told you to keep it to yourself, not a word, Yeosang.” 

The warning was harsh, he immediately regretted raising his voice at Yeosang, who only wanted to help. But Wooyoung had to make sure that he understood. Seonghwa couldn't find out. He had sworn to never be the source of Seonghwa's distress again.

Yeosang flinched at the harshness in Wooyoung’s tone, instinctively backing away. He lowered his head, letting the pale strands of his hair fall forward.

“Shit—Yeosang, wait. I didn’t mean it like that,” Wooyoung said quickly, trying to backpedal.

Yeosang bit his lip, his hands trembling slightly as he fumbled with them. “I won’t say a word.” Then he gave a quick, stiff bow and turned on his heel, practically fleeing the room. Fleeing away from Wooyoung. 

Wooyoung started after him but halted in his tracks. He should go after him.This was the second time he had let his words cut someone where it hurt without really meaning too. He sighed, scrubbing a frustrated hand through his hair. 

You would think having a heart all these years and being around humans he would have learned to not fall on his innate need for creating chaos and negativity. 

He still had a lot to learn. 

Just then a shout followed by a yelp sounded from a few doors away.

Going after Yeosang would have to wait. It would probably be best for him to intervene with whatever was going on with Seonghwa and Hoongjong first from the sound of it. 

What he didn't expect to find when he entered the study was Seonghwa clutching his hand to his chest looking obviously in pain while Hongjoong had pressed himself into the corner of the room, hissing like a cat affronted by a particularly obnoxious dog. Neither of them even spared a glance at Wooyoung as he entered the room.

“You bit me!” Seonghwa shouted, aghast.  

“And you kissed me,” Hongjoong yelled back accusingly, voice and octave higher than usual. 

Oh, interesting. 

“Only on the forehead,” Seonghwa tried to justify.

“That still counts!” he hissed, recovering his voice. He was practically vibrating with defensive energy. “I've warned you before that I would bite you if you tried anything.” 

Seonghwa blinked, still cradling his hand.There were neat little teeth marks imprinted on the back of his hand, smarting redder by the second.  “I thought you were joking.”

“I don't joke about biting people,” Hongjoong said seriously, scrubbing the sensation of lips off his forehead and backing away from his offender, which meant taking refuge behind Wooyoung. 

Hiding behind him for protection was ironic, considering he was by far the more dangerous of the two.

“I hope that teaches you not to kiss people without their consent,” Hongjoong added primely.

“How is a kiss on the forehead different from a kiss on the back of the hand?” 

Remembering the kiss that Hongjoong placed on his hand, Wooyoung couldn't help but snicker. At that time Hongjoong had surely placed the kiss in the hope of feeding into Seonghwa's jealousy, and it had clearly worked. “He’s got you there,” he said to Hongjoong who only sputtered at the betrayal. 

“It's different,” he mumbled, lips forming a pout despite himself.

Wooyoung didn't need to read Seonghwa to know that he would cave. He was a sucker for a pair of pouty lips. He would know, Wooyoung used the tactic to his advantage all the time.

“Duly noted,” Seonghwa sighed, wincing as he shook out his hand. “I apologize for acting without permission. I seemed to have lost temporary control of my… impulses.I meant it as a thank you, not a cross in boundaries.”

He looked every bit the picture of regret—like a scolded puppy. 

“As long as you know.” Hongjoong was trying to hold on to his irritation, but it wavered in the face of his own embarrassment, ears heating at the tips. 

“I'll make sure to ask for your consent next time I want to kiss you,” Seonghwa said evenly, lightly nodding his head to himself like he had arrived at an acceptable conclusion.

“Next time?” Hongjoong shrieked, coming from behind Wooyoung to level Seonghwa with a glare, his blip of remorse melting away instantly. 

That restarted the argument.

Judging by the way the bickering was spiraling, Wooyoung decided he might as well settle into the armchair and let them tire themselves out. There was no need for him to intervene like he had thought. Although they were increasing in volume he could see right through their act. Seonghwa was fairly enjoying himself and Hongjoong,despite all the snarling, didn’t look truly upset as he was making himself out to be. 

He watched them as they argued. In his opinion, they meshed well together. Seonghwa needed someone like Hongjoong to spark a fire beneath him every now and then. Someone who wouldn’t let him retreat too far into himself. His eyes were twinkling again, like stars just beginning to reappear after being hidden in the dark for so long.That was how they were meant to look.

Wooyoung’s gaze shifted to Hongjoong next, a faint frown tugging at his lips.

There was some disappointment, when Wooyoung had thought Hongjoong had actually left. After all, he had tried his best to make him understand Seonghwa's position. It felt like failure. Again. Even though, logically, he hadn’t done anything to deserve the feeling. Perhaps it wasn’t entirely his own. Maybe some part of it bled through from Seonghwa’s aching heart, their bond making it hard to distinguish. 

Regardless he hoped that nothing major would happen to destroy what they were building here. He had a good feeling about this,whatever this was, and he didn't want anything to ruin it.

He still believed that humans were strange creatures but he had grown attached to these ones.Wooyoung wanted to protect this growing family that had gathered in the castle of sanctuary that he and Seonghwa had constructed. With Hongjoong it felt almost complete. 

Suddenly, a loud growling sound cut through the noise of bickering.

Both Seonghwa and Wooyoung faced Hongjoong who had clasped a hand over his middle. 

“…Was that your stomach?” Seonghwa asked, arching a brow.

Hongjoong stiffened, his jaw tightening before he snapped, “Yes, it was my stomach. What do you expect? I skipped dinner yesterday and haven’t eaten a single damn thing today.”

Wooyoung stood up, dusting off his trousers.“Alright, that's my cue to start dinner. You two go wash up and get ready before Hongjoong grows rabid and starts biting other places besides your hand.”

“Rabid?” 

“Any special request?,” Wooyoung added, ignoring Hongjoong and his blatant dislike of his joke. “I'm in a good mood tonight.”

Hongjoong paused, putting thought into his decision. Wooyoung held back a chuckle from how serious he was, as if the decision bore the weight of something of high importance.

“Beef stew,” Hongjoong finally decided.

Wooyoung gave a crisp, mock salute. “Aye, captain.”

Hongjoong blinked at it, surprised by the term, but didn’t reject it. He simply rolled his eyes and followed as Wooyoung headed toward the kitchen, Seonghwa trailing behind, the three of them falling into step like they had always been that way.

And for a moment, just a moment, it felt like peace.

 

💫

 

Hongjoong narrowed his eyes at the retreating plate of chicken like it had personally offended him.

“Don’t touch that,” Wooyoung tsked, batting his hand away like his mother would.

“I thought this was all for me,” Hongjoong muttered, reaching for the stir-fried vegetables instead.

“Don’t be greedy. You asked for the stew. The fried chicken is for Yeosang.” Wooyoung delicately placed a drumstick onto Yeosang’s plate like he was handling a peace offering. “And don’t touch the strawberry cake either,” he added, voice warning now. “That’s for San.”

Hongjoong’s gaze drifted to San, who hadn’t spoken a word since rejoining the table. Earlier, Hwa had revealed the truth behind his sudden reappearance. To everyone’s surprise, Honjoong hadn’t actually left the castle at all, only retreated upstairs under the guise of the castle. Most of the group had been relieved to learn that.

San clearly had not been.

The younger returned Hongjoong’s look with one of pure frost. Without breaking eye contact, San picked up his fork and stabbed it into the center of the strawberry cake, sending cream splattering onto Mingi’s shirt.

“Ah man,” Mingi whined, dabbing at the spot with a napkin before remembering belatedly that he was a wizard. He muttered a spell and vanished the stain with a huff. “Way to be childish, Sannie.”

“Aren’t meals a lot more entertaining with Hongjoong present?” Jongho mused innocently, a gummy smile stretched across his face as the little shit raised his glass in a toast. “To Hongjoong.”

Hwa, barely containing his amusement, lifted his wine glass in kind.

“Shut up,” Hongjoong grouched, stuffing his mouth with something he couldn’t name but tasted incredible enough to distract him from San's murderous intent permeating around the dinner table. 

A faint knock tapped against the edge of the table. Once. Then again.

It was barely louder than the clinking of cutlery, but still somehow managed to arrest the room's momentum. 

Yeosang, eyes round and knuckles still hovering near the wood, looked like he instantly regretted his decision. His fingers curled back into his lap like he could fold himself into the chair if he tried hard enough.

He hadn’t signed a single word since dinner began. Just sat there, nibbling absently at his food, detached, like he was drifting in from somewhere far away. Under the sudden attention of seven pairs of eyes, he began to shrink. Hongjoong wondered if something had happened while he was upstairs. Usually still quiet, Yeosang would at least pitch in some kind of opinion in a conversation here or there to show that he was listening. 

“Yes, my dear?” Hwa encouraged gently, seeing as Yeosang was having difficulty communicating.

In Hongjoong’s line of sight he could see Wooyoung reaching for Yeosang’s hand under the table, squeezing it twice before letting it go. He looked equally as troubled as Yeosang. 

Maybe they had had a fight, he guessed. 

“I wanted to ask about the progress of Maddox's code,” he signed, his gaze anchored downward. “Any break through yet?”

“Ah, that's right. It almost slipped my mind,” Hwa said, snapping his fingers. “Good news! Hongjoong deciphered the vision. We have our next destination just in time for our departure. Isn't that great?” 

The table erupted into chaos, bombarding Hongjoong at once with questions. 

“What—how?!” Mingi exclaimed, halfway out of his seat.

“Morse code,” Hongjoong answered simply, reaching across the table to snag a drumstick.

“Wasn't it super difficult? That kind of thing usually takes days,” Jongho asked, brows furrowed in disbelief.

“Not really,” Hongjoong shrugged, taking a casual bite of chicken. “I only figured out half. Hwa was the one who pieced together the rest.”

“I knew he was super smart,” Mingi said, nodding sagely. “He even figured out the missing ingredient in that spell I was making the other day.”

“It’s called reading,” Jongho mocked, rolling his eyes, then added more sincerely, “But yeah, you’re pretty smart to have done that much in such a short time. Just looking at Maddox-hyung’s visions gives me a headache.”

“Where are we setting the course to?” Wooyoung asked, turning to Hwa.

“Silverlight Peaks.” 

“That’s so far,” Mingi groaned, already deflating in his chair. “That’s gonna take us weeks to get to. I hope the travel will be worth it this time.”

“It will be,” Wooyoung said with conviction, his eyes gleaming. “I have a feeling that the key will be there.”

The key.

“Will you finally tell me what this key business is all about?” he asked curiously, wanting to finally get answers. “I offered my help without knowing what it exactly is. Why is it so important to you that you find it?” 

“Seonghwa,” San growled in warning.

Draining the rest of his wine, Hwa carefully placed the glass back onto the table before addressing San.  

“I'm sorry San, but it's imperative that he knows. Yeosang as well. We kept it from them long enough and if they are going to stand with us then they deserve to know what they are getting themselves into. And the danger we may face if we manage to obtain the key.” Hwa met San with clear golden eyes, his tone leaving no room for objection about the matter to San's displeasure. 

San glared at Hwa, a silent conversation waging between the two before San spoke. 

“Then leave me out of it,” San said. Screeching the chair backwards San rose from the table and exited leaving an air of awkwardness in his wake. 

“Maybe I should—,” Wooyoung mumbled hesitantly as he began to stand to go after the other. 

“It’s fine my love. Leave him be,” Hwa told him. He took the wine bottle, tipping it gently over his glass, and watched the pour rise in slow, deliberate inches. “We should give him the respect of privacy. He chose to remove himself from the situation without lashing out and for that I am grateful. Let him work things out on his own for a while before you visit him later tonight.”

Wooyoung’s gaze lingered on the empty chair San had vacated, his thumb absently brushing across his lower lip anxiously. A defeated sigh escaped him.“Please don't think too badly of Sannie,”  Wooyoung softly stated to Hongjoong. “Your heart tends to close off towards others when it has been betrayed time and time again.” 

There was no need to explain San's behavior to Hongjoong. He understood where he was coming from completely. He didn't fault the man in his skepticism and mistrust of others.It could be a bitch to deal with sometimes, sure, but that kind of guardedness was almost inevitable in the kind of life they lived. 

“No offense taken,” he said placatingly.

Dinner slowly dwindled to scraps. Only once he was sure everyone had their fill did Seonghwa lean forward, stapling his hands atop the table with the solemnity of someone about to speak something that could not be taken lightly. 

“Have you ever heard of the village of Aurora?” 

Hongjoong took account of all of the places he had studied and memorized on the maps. He couldn't recall any village with the name of Aurora. “I would have to say I don't. Not on any map I've seen.”

Yeosang shook his head beside him, equally unfamiliar with the name.

“It wouldn't be on any map that you’ve come across, I'm sure,” Hwa confirmed. “The village of Aurora was a hidden secret only known to a chosen few. A sacred place, where the most powerful witches and wizards gathered in seclusion to study, teach, and protect magic. My homeland.”

Pride colored his words, along with a tinge of sadness, a melancholic smile ghosting his lips as he spoke. Hongjoong could only imagine what memories were flitting through his mind. After all, he had witnessed them himself, the good, and the devastatingly bad. 

His homeland, Aurora that didn’t hold any existence other than in Hwa's memories and the Cave of Mind itself.  

“We believed it was our duty to protect the world from certain kinds of magic,” Hwa continued. “Not all spells are meant to be practiced. Some are too powerful. Too corrupting. So we kept them sealed away, artifacts, grimoires, relics. Hidden from the world, locked under barrier and oath. And for generations, we watched over them in silence.”

His gaze drifted downward, fingers tracing the stem of his wine glass, the liquid lapping at the sides but not enough to cress over the edge. “I was next in line to join the ranks of those entrusted with overseeing such magic. It was a great honor given to only those who showed exceptional promise, but …the time never came.” 

Hongjoong braced himself for what he knew was coming next in Hwa's story. 

“The night of my coming-of-age ceremony, everything went up in flames,” Hwa said, lifting his gaze alight with fury. “The King's men killed everyone no matter if they were defenseless children or individuals trying to protect their loved ones. They only cared about getting their bloody hands on the damn Cromer and nothing else,” he hissed out. 

 “The Cromer,” Hongjoong found himself whispering aloud. 

Hwa turned to him, as if he had forgotten where he was and who he was with. Jongho and Mingi sat with matching grim expressions. Wooyoung eyes were aglow as he stared off past the wall.Yeosang looked as pale as a sheet.

“Yes, the Cromer. The true name of the key,” he repeated, regaining his composure. “Turns out it was never in the village in the first place, the location of the Cromer being moved prior to the King catching wind of it. So, in the end, all of it… the bloodshed, the fire, the death…”

He shook his head once, jaw tight.

“It was all for nothing.” 

“What do you think the King wants with it?” Yeosang timidly asked, picking once again at his nailbeds.

Hwa chuckled dryly, the sound unpleasant in its lack of humor. “What would anyone want with the power to traverse time and space?” 

Yeosang’s forehead wrinkled subtly at the rhetorical deflection.“Wait... what does ‘traversing time and space’ actually mean? Like, moving through time? I thought that was impossible.”

It echoed Hongjoong’s thoughts precisely. Magic, as he understood it, was capable of extraordinary feats, transformation, enchantment, healing to a certain extent— but even it had to obey certain laws, didn’t it? This sounded like it belonged in myth, not reality. And yet, as he glanced around the table at the others, all of whom wore expressions that spoke not of disbelief, but grim familiarity, he began to reconsider. Perhaps the bounds of magic weren’t as fixed as he had assumed. Perhaps it wasn’t far-fetched at all… 

“It’s not like changing the past or rewriting history.” Wooyoung leaned forward, eyes gleaming with a mixture of wonder and warning. “The Cromer lets you slip between dimensions, alternate timelines, like walking through different doors, each leading to a different reality.” He tapped the table thoughtfully. “So, instead of altering history, you visit other versions of what could be. But that power is perilous. If someone cruel or selfish gains control, they could manipulate those realities, influence events, or erase entire possibilities to serve their own ends.”

Hwa’s golden gaze grew more solemn. “Exactly. That is why the Cromer cannot fall into the wrong hands.”

Yeosang looked like he was going to be sick.

Hongjoong swallowed hard, his stomach twisting. The King’s intentions were far from noble. Knowing the man’s ruthless nature, he wouldn’t use the Cromer to fix the past. He’d use it to dominate it.

Hwa rose, locking eyes with everyone at the table. “Do you understand why we cannot simply ignore the King and let him have his way? As the sole survivor of Aurora, it is my duty to seek out the Cromer and protect it before it is too late.”

He paused, searching their faces. “I know none of you have ties to Aurora, and I am not asking you to risk your lives as I do in defying the crown. But I ask for your understanding and your support as I see this through to the end. I promise I will do everything in my power to protect you along the way.” He bowed low, leaving them stunned speechless. 

Stones settled in Hongjoong’s gut, leaden and cold. He was contrite,bitterly so, at the memory of accusing Seonghwa of cruelty. He had never been cruel. He was nothing of the sort. 

“Do you even have to ask,” Mingi said with a lopsided grin. “We'd follow you anywhere hyung.” 

Hwa's head dipped even further, shoulders trembling. Alarmed, Yeosang shot out of his seat, hovering over him looking not quite sure of what to do, but wanting to do something to alleviate his worry.

“He's right, hyung, raise your head. You're going to make Wooyoung cry if you don't,” Jongho added lightly.  

Wooyoung’s eyes shimmered as he fought back tears, watching Hwa’s bowed form. “You idiot. I told you that they would.” 

Sniffling, Hwa swiped under his eyes before lifting his head. His nose was dusted pink but he looked happy, golden eyes a shade brighter. “Yes, you did my love.”

Then, slowly, his gaze shifted toward Hongjoong. Clearing his throat, Hwa looked at Hongjoong expectantly. 

And Hongjoong met his gaze squarely.

So many things could go wrong. So many unseen possibilities. The reveal of the Cromer making it damn near impossible to stop the King.

But why did gazing into those golden eyes stir the absurd notion that Hwa, of all people, might accomplish what Hongjoong had never possessed the courage to even hope for?

“What?" he said, feigning gruffness. “I already told you my answer when we were in the study. Have you forgotten already, because I won't be saying it again.”

“Hongjoong,” Hwa breathed, visibly moved.

Hongjoong took a swig of his drink to avoid looking at Hwa's round eyes. He looked way too soft. Way too vulnerable. 

“Gods, you guys should just kiss for real this time.” 

Hadn't Wooyoung recovered too quickly. Last he checked he was seconds away from bursting into tears.

“Wait, they kissed and I missed it?!?” Mingi gawked, holding a hand to his chest in shock.

“Gross, not over my dinner,” Jongho fake gagged. “Take that else where.” 

“Dont act like you don’t enjoy kissing us Jongho you fake,” Wooyoung said, aiming a fork in his direction. 

“It's called basic table manners Wooyoung. There is a time and place for these things.”

“Did you care about manners when you bent me over this exact table the other night?” Wooyoung asked, voice syrupy and eyes flashing red.

“The table where we eat Jongho!” Seonghwa exclaimed. Knowing him he was probably thinking about how unsanitary it was.

“Okay! Let's circle this back to Seonghwa and Hongjoong.What's that about?” Jongho deflected, causing Wooyoung to cackle so hard he flung himself into Yeosang's side.

“Nope, let's not,” Hongjoong said.

The kids were getting out of hand and he didn't feel like being pulled into it. Plus, even though he was smiling at their antics, Yeosang looked like he was exhausted. It was time to retire for the night. 

“I'm gonna get ready for bed. Yeosang, you coming?” He figured he would extend the offer to make a quick retreat since both of their rooms were in the same corridor. 

“Wait,” Wooyoung called, stopping Yeosang. “I actually wanted to talk to Sangie in private... if that’s okay?”

Yeosang bit his lip in thought looking at Wooyoung who waited patiently for his answer. After a beat he nodded. Wooyoung released a breath of relief. Tugging at his hand Wooyoung led them out towards the deck where they could talk privately. 

“Okay, what was that about?” Mingi asked, eyes following them out.

Hwa only shrugged, smiling after the leaving pair. “Who is up for another drink? I'm feeling celebratory tonight.” 

By how many glasses Hwa had already drank, the bottle should have been empty. But Hongjoong watched, puzzled, as Seonghwa topped off Mingi’s glass, then Jongho’s, then his own.

“A bunch of drunkards,” Hongjoong mumbled, leaving the others at the dining table as he ascended to his room.

Hongjoong climbed the stairs, one gloved hand trailing lazily along the banister as the muffled sound of laughter and clinking glasses echoed from below.  His footsteps were slow as he took his time moving through the hallways, mind lingering on one in particular.

The wizard Hwa. 

There were so many built up rumors about him. How powerful he was. How he was capable of doing the unthinkable. The unimaginable. He was a charmer that lured those who fell for him to their deaths, taking their hearts and eating them whole. A monster cloaked in grace. He was an angel with wings as white as snow. Some held half truths and others were so far-fetched that Hongjoong could laugh from how wrong they were.

But they were only that. Rumors. 

No one truly knew Hwa, not even Hongjoong himself, though he was beginning to.

He was powerful, but he had his limits. He was a charmer who stole hearts,not to lead them to their deaths, but to deliver them from it. He wasn't an angel. Hongjoong didn't believe in those. But if he did, he could see why people portrayed Hwa as one. 

Hwa… no Seonghwa. 

Hwa was just one of many aliases that Seonghwa hid behind.

The facts were piling up, and as he learned more about this man and all his truths, he saw that Wooyoung had been right. Seonghwa had known loss so profound it carved something permanent into his soul. And now, having glimpsed pieces of that sorrow, Hongjoong finally understood.

Seonghwa wasn’t trying to be a hero. He was trying to prevent another tragedy, one he’d already lived through once. He had promised to protect them, to break the curse. And Hongjoong found himself wanting to believe him. 

He couldn't ignore the memory of the man kneeling before him with such sincerity. No one had ever treated him with that much respect. As if he was someone of importance. He wasn't a prince, let alone a nobleman. Just a cursed man fumbling through survival.

Yet Seonghwa,in all of his quiet humility, had never treated him as anything less than worthy. 

Suddenly Hongjoong remembered the soft press of lips against his forehead. How Seonghwa's golden eyes laid upon him with fondness mixed with something else he didn't want to decipher for his own sake. 

“Took you long enough.” 

Begrudgingly, Hongjoong came to a stop. There was no way he was making it inside without dealing with the man first, and by looking at his expression San knew it too. 

“We have to stop meeting like this Sannie or I'll really start thinking you have a little crush on me,” Hongjoong teased, trying to lighten the tense mood. 

Unfazed, San wordlessly gestured to the front of the door. “Are you gonna unlock this or not.” 

Like most of the rooms on the ship, San couldn't just let himself in. The door only opened to whoever it belonged to. If it was the orphanage one could barge in with no remorse, since the doors had no locks installed on them. You could say that one of Seonghwa’s rules had actually come in handy.

“Why should I unlock it for you?” 

He let out a loud gasp, placing protective hands across the front of his body. “Do you wish to bed me? Listen here, I am a dignified fellow. If you wish to lay me down on those sheets in there you'll have to court me first, mister!” 

“For the love of Gods. You are so infuriating!” San growled through clenched teeth. Pinching the bridge of his nose he exhaled slowly before leveling Hongjoong with his signature glare. “I am trying to be civilized.” 

“That's a first.” 

“Can we please talk in private?” San's eyes darted around the corridor like someone was going to pop out from around a corner. 

Seeing as he had teased him long enough, Hongjoong finally relented, unlocking the door with a simple turn of the knob, his biosignature granting immediate access. 

Following close at his heels, San drifted to the center of the room with a gaze that wandered unabashedly. It was his first time inside Hongjoong’s quarters, and by the furrow of his brow and slow turn of his head, he was scrutinizing every detail. Hongjoong could practically hear the silent judgments being made. Come to think of it, he hadn’t explored much of the ship or the other rooms that he could access himself. That probably needed rectifying.

Gathering his nightwear Hongjoong went about tossing the garments onto the bed with casualness. He sat on the edge of the bottom bunk, tugged off his boots, then began unfastening the buttons of his sleeved shirt.

“What do you think you’re doing?” San blurted, whipping his head to the side before Hongjoong could shrug the fabric off. 

Hongjoong had said he understood where San's misplaced anger had come from, not that he forgave him for it. Understanding didn’t equate to patience, and Hongjoong had no intention of making this easy.

“Nothing is stopping you from speaking,” he said coolly. “You requested my time, and I’m affording it. Use it sparingly, will you?” He pulled a clean shirt over his head. “I’m rather exhausted, so if you could expedite whatever impassioned speech you’ve prepared, I’d be grateful.”

He tugged off his gloves next, suppressing a wince as the fabric dragged against his skin, leaving the cursed markings exposed.

San’s eyes fell on them instantly, and he didn’t bother to disguise his reaction. Hongjoong stilled, resisting the urge to conceal himself again. He had already laid himself bare; retreating now would feel like surrender, and he never surrendered ground easily.

“He told you about the Cromer?” San knew that Seonghwa had told him everything, so Hongjoong didn't bother with an answer. 

“This isn't a game, Hongjoong. This isn't something you can decide to get yourself involved in on a whim and when the going gets tough decide you don't want any part in it.” 

“Do you think me an idiot?” 

“No, actually I think you're quite smart,” San corrected, taking Hongjoong aback. “Which is why I'm telling you this because I know you'll understand. If you're staying, stay. There is no second guessing about where your priorities lie, because now they lie here.” 

Hongjoong stiffened. “Who died and made you King?” 

“I'm not trying to command you, Hongjoong. I'm trying to ask you what it is that you want?”

What he wanted? He drifted his gaze slightly down. Down at the swirling curse marks that were now up to his elbows in ink. 

“If what you want is to just rid yourself of the curse then this is where I'll stop you. That kind of thinking is selfish.”

“Is it selfish to want to live?” he exclaimed. It was a simple human desire to want and here it was being taken away from him too.

“It's selfish to want only that,” San preached. 

“I do want more.” He used to dream of change. Used to imagine what it would be like. It was time to stop being scared. Hongjoong was always one to not sit back and let fate take its course. If he wanted for something he made sure damn well he did everything to get it. 

“I want to live. I want my family to stay together. I want to tear apart the people who threaten that. The king. The Witch of the Waste. Everyone. I'll fight whoever I have to to do it. I'll burn down the kingdoms and all those pigs in it and if I die doing it then so be it!” he said breath coming out in puffs. 

“You won't die,” San replied after a note.

Surely, San wasn't trying to placate him. Their relationship didn't call for that kind of kindness. 

“Im dying anyway,” he chuckled, showcasing his arms as a reminder for the both of them. “ If I'm going out, I wouldn't mind going out with a bang.” 

“You won't die,” San repeated. “Seonghwa wouldn't let you. He would drag you back from the underworld himself,” he grinned.

“Why do I get the feeling you are right,” he said with a tired smile.

“What changed your mind? You were so adamant before about keeping to yourself.” San asked curiously, taking an unwelcome seat next to Hongjoong on the bed. The bunk was narrow, and San’s broad shoulders took up far too much space. He’d never been this close to Hongjoong unless it was to threaten him. He looked more at ease now, not nearly as tense or irritable as before, when it seemed like every breath Hongjoong took offended him. Apparently, he’d passed whatever unspoken test San had set.

“Varying circumstances.” 

“Seonghwa,then.” 

“Yes, Seonghwa,” he agreed belatedly. “He's different that one.”

“He's not like me and you. The world treats us like shit and we harden ourselves so we don't get hurt. Seonghwa might look hard on the outside, but he is soft on the inside. He still sees good and that is what makes him vulnerable.” 

Hongjoong was already aware of this fact. 

“That's also what makes him brave,” he finds himself saying. 

“I didn't say he wasn't,” San said. From the view of the window the distant light of a passing cargo boat could be seen. San and Hongjoong watched as it drifted by on the quiet waters outside. “Seonghwa is one of the bravest, most fearless men I know. That's why I follow him. And that is why I won't stand for anyone who hurts or betrays him.” 

“I wouldn't betray Seonghwa.” 

“Seonghwa and everyone else thinks you won't." 

 “What about you? What do you think?” 

“I thought you were smart?” His dimple makes a reappearance, and Hongjoong would have to be a fool to not consider San handsome.

“Fair.” He couldn't really get mad even if he wanted to. “Anything else you want to threaten me with or can I get ready for bed.” 

“Nope, I think I've made my case.” 

"You know," Hongjoong said, reclining against the pillow with a soft exhale, "Seonghwa was right about what he said that night. All of his boys are pretty. You should smile more.”

San shot him a look of pure revulsion. “Choke, Hongjoong.” 

“Goodnight, Sannie.”

It wasn't a friendship. Far from it. 

A truce? He could perhaps call it that.

Notes:

I hope you guys enjoyed the chapter! I really enjoy writing Hongjoong's reactions towards any kind of physical affection.

I was wondering would you guys be up to talking on twitter? If so let me know on the comments and I will make a twitter account for Atiny to converse and share your theories with me. I would also like your opinion on some story prompts I would like to write and post later after I get some extra time.

Chapter 7: What's the Difference Between an Angel and Devil?

Notes:

*mentions of gore...like extreme

 

💫

 

 

 

“Why didn't you think it pertinent to bring this up yesterday?”

“Yesterday you were in a mood and I didn't think it was fair of me to bring up something so trivial when we were facing more dire matters.” 

“Don't look at me. This is on you,” Hongjoong directed at Wooyoung as he poured fresh coffee into his mug. “All those extravagant meals. It was bound to happen.” 

“Excuse me for wanting to cook your favorite foods to bring up the dreary atmosphere in this place. Isn't there a saying that goes "A way to a man's heart is through his stomach?” 

“We appreciate your efforts Wooyoung,” Seonghwa reassured. “But not having enough food to sustain our trip is rather pressing, my love.” 

“That's why I proposed a trip into town to gather all we need before we have to leave. I'd rather we be more prepared than not.” 

Seonghwa tapped his fingers against the table, eyes flicking to the clock hanging on the wall. He’d been keeping a close watch on it since entering the kitchen.

“I don't know… we could pick up some things along the way. I just would feel better if we left as soon as possible. I woke up with an ominous feeling I can't seem to shake.” Seonghwa rubbed at his middle like he was trying to calm a stomach ache.

“I don't sense anything. You're just being overly cautious,” Wooyoung surmised. “Hongjoong, help me out here. Make Seonghwa see logic.” 

Hongjoong hummed, thinking about the route they would have to take. “We do need food,” he agreed. “If we're headed for Silverlight Peaks that means we’re gonna have to cross over some regions that aren't home to any towns or markets. It could be weeks until we run across one before reaching our destination. I say it would be smarter to get what we need now if you're in such a rush to depart.” 

It was sound reasoning. They couldn't go far without the proper supplies and what better place to get them than Maeli, a town overflowing with an abundance of Capital's resources. 

Checking the clock for the umpteenth time, Seonghwa sighed. Reluctantly, he gave in. “Write a list,Woo. Make sure it's only the essentials, no extra ingredients just because you're feeling ‘inspired’ and want to try out a new recipe.” 

“Fine,” he grumbled, already going in search of a quill and parchment. 

“Mingi, is there anything around the castle that needs repairs?”

Having been confined to studying his levitation spells at the dining table, Mingi was deep in concentration making an apple float. Hearing his name being called broke his concentration. The apple dropped out of the air rolling pitifully. Jongho caught it, cracked it in half with little effort, and offered a piece to him.

“Um, I did a run through yesterday after we closed up shop. I didn't see anything that looked like it needed fixing right away. Oh! But if you're going into town could you pick me up some wiring?” 

Seonghwa squinted suspiciously. “And why do you need wiring? It better not be for more castle modifications.”

Ah, so that’s what he was doing when he came back with oil stains on his sleeves and goggles tangled in his hair.

“Hyung, you don’t get it. I’m this close to finishing the engine. If it works, Wooyoung won’t have to use his energy to keep the castle airborne. She’ll fly on her own!” Mingi bit into his apple with excitement, speaking with his mouth full. “It’ll be a win for everyone!”

Seonghwa rubbed at his temple, clearly regretting opening this can of worms. Hongjoong could only imagine how many times he’d caved to Mingi’s inventions. Hence the weird add-ons scattered throughout the castle.

“That isn't fair!” Jongho stomped his foot petulantly. “If Mingi is getting wires, I want a sturdier flute.” 

“What happened to the one I just got you?” Seonghwa asked. 

“It…broke,” Jongho said sheepishly. 

“Ill find one made with sturdier material," Seonghwa muttered to himself. Then louder, “Does anyone wish for anything else,” he addressed to the room at large. “Speak now or forever hold your peace.”

Wooyoung raised his hand high, resembling a schoolboy eager to be called on. “Yeosang wants new paints.”

The boy in question immediately shook his head, waving the suggestion off with a dismissive flutter of his fingers.

“Come on, Yeosang. Learn to indulge a little,” Wooyoung urged. “You’re nearly out, and Seonghwa’s offering.”

Seonghwa reached over patting the top of Yeosang's head endearingly. Yeosang's face bloomed red, but he didn't seem too bothered by the act. “It's of no trouble, Yeosang. I'll make sure to grab you the finest paints and a new set of brushes to go with it. Sannie, do you desire anything?” Seonghwa added, casting a glance over Wooyoung’s growing list with a frown.

“No,” San answered flatly. 

“Are you sure you don't want a new knife to add to your collection?” Wooyoung chimed in, attempting to cover up his list when he spotted Seonghwa hovering behind him. 

San hesitated, scratching at the side of his neck with an air of faux indifference. “If you happen to come across one of decent quality… I wouldn’t say no.”

“I best start now if we wish to set off on time.” Plucking the list from Wooyoung's reach before more could be added, Seonghwa folded the paper and tucked it into his breast pocket. “Hongjoong, anything I could get you?” 

Sitting his mug in the sink, Hongjoong dried off his hands and thought. He didn't really care for anything. But he wouldn't mind stretching his legs for a while. “Nope, I'm good. I'll just tag along with you to town and help you carry the bags back.” 

He hadn't helped out in the shop yesterday so the least he could do was assist Seonghwa in running the errands for everyone else. 

“I don't think that’s a good idea, Hongjoong,” Seonghwa said slowly, like he was trying to let him down gently.

“Why is that?” he bristled. Then he remembered. “Is it because of what happened last time?” 

Going off of the kicked puppy look Seonghwa was giving him, it was. 

“I'm not hung up on that anymore. One measly misunderstanding isn't going to deter me from shopping.”

“Okay, but–,” Seonghwa trailed off, twiddling his thumbs. The action was uncharacteristically nervous. Something he would expect Yeosang to do, not Seonghwa. 

“Are you sure you want to go shopping…with me?” he asked tentatively.

“Is there a reason why I wouldn't?" 

“You weren't too fond of the way I handled things last we were out,” Seonghwa murmured, couching his words in delicacy.

The reminder made Hongjoong wince. He remembered,vividly, the one-sided shouting match he had delivered in the middle of the street. It felt like a lifetime ago.

“Do you promise to behave yourself no matter if we meet someone who is rude?” 

Eyes round and mouth agape in earnest, Seonghwa nodded his head. “Yes, I promise.” 

Hongjoong suppressed a smile behind his hand. Cute. “Then grab your coat and let us go. We're on a crunched schedule.” 

Seonghwa physically brightened.“Give me five minutes. I need to fix my hair!,” Seonghwa called out, already dashing towards the stairs. 

Hongjoong stood there for a minute longer watching Seonghwa run off in amusement, then realized he should also get ready. He turned to say just that when he noticed that everyone was already staring at him. 

Which was starting to become a common thing with this lot.

“What?” he huffed, crossing his arms.

That was all it took.

Wooyoung bursted into laughter, doubling over and clutching his sides.“Did—did you see that? I've never seen Hwa run, like ever!”

“He nearly tripped over his own feet,” Jongho added, eyes crinkling at the corners. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen him move that fast.”

Wooyoung wiped at the corners of his eyes, wheezing between chuckles. “Lovesickness has a way of making you do things you usually wouldn't.”

If Hongjoong had still been drinking coffee, he would have surely spat it across the kitchen floor.

Because what was this talk about love?

 

 

💫

 

 

 

Hongjoong had never been in love. With anyone. There was no space for such indulgence in his life. The most he had ever developed for another was something close to fancy. 

Yeah, that was the word. Fancy.

He had once fancied one of the barmaids when he was younger. She was three years his senior with a pair of kind eyes and a sharp tongue that could dress down any drunken brute. She’d sneak him drinks and tuck away scraps from the kitchens so he could bring something warm back to the orphanage. He hadn’t seen her since she’d married a merchant and resigned herself to the quiet life of a housewife. 

He missed her cooking. 

Then there was that one traveling musician that would pass through town every few years. They had met in the square when Hongjoong had stopped once to listen to him play. He was talented. In music and among other things. He had a voice as sweet as honey and fingers that played Hongjoong's body like a fine tuned instrument. 

And Hongjoong couldn't forget the nobleman’s son. The one who used to slip away from Capital to escape duty and decorum. He longed for a taste of the common life, and Hongjoong had been only too glad to show him the brighter sides of it, those not too filthy to frighten him off. 

Hongjoong didn’t particularly fancy the boy. More so he fancied the purse he carried and the way he spent from it with such reckless delight, vying for Hongjoong’s attention.

He’d had his amusements. He enjoyed fleeting nights with fleeting warm bodies.

He fancied. 

Hongjoong didn't do love. 

And there was no way that Seonghwa was in love with him. 

“Don't you think you got a little too dressed up for an errand run?” 

“You could never be too dressed up to go anywhere,” Seonghwa replied breezily, smoothing down the lapels of his blouse.

Hongjoong's lip twitched. “People are staring.” 

“They're admiring,” Seonghwa simply replied, striding past a group of gentlemen who very nearly broke their necks craning for a second glance at him. Hongjoong had half the mind to turn back and do it for them. The possessive urge to shield Seonghwa from their leering gazes tugged at him, as did the far more reckless one: to drag him back to the ship and keep him there.

Seonghwa had said he was only going to fix his hair, but after waiting fifteen minutes he came out dressed to the nines. He wore an ensemble that defied convention with the same quiet confidence he exuded when commanding attention. 

And command he did. 

A crisp, ivory blouse draped his frame, the sleeves romantic and voluminous, slipping off his shoulders like melting candlewax. The fabric pooled around his arms, cinched only by delicate cuffs that peeked from beneath the sculpted silhouette of a black corset-waistcoat. The contrasting piece hugged his torso in precise symmetry. At his collar, a jeweled brooch glinted with a cluster of stones arranged like a constellation, catching the sunlight in silvery shards.

He hadn't even bothered getting a coat like Hongjoong had told him too. 

“Do you not like what I'm wearing?” 

Seonghwa had stopped in front of Hongjoong causing others to walk around the pair. They whispered as they went, wondering aloud if they were having a quarrel in the middle of the street. Seonghwa didn't seem to care as he waited for Hongjoong's answer with a pout to his lips and a tap to his heel.  

Hongjoong looked from those pouty lips, down to the black corset that he had only ever seen women wear, then back up to his eyes that seemed to demand for Hongjoong to pay attention to him and only him. 

Licking his lips, Hongjoong silently asked himself why he didn't just stay on the ship. If he did then he wouldn't have to go through this. 

“You look lovely, Seonghwa. Now let’s go before I start regretting more of my choices,” Hongjoong muttered, brushing past him with arms full of shopping bags.

When he didn’t hear Seonghwa fall into step behind him, he turned. Through the bustling crowd, he spotted Seonghwa still rooted to the same spot, staring after him with a stunned expression.

“You feeling ill?” he asked once he made it back to him. 

Seonghwa shook his head, deepening Hongjoong's concern.His cheeks were noticeably flushed. 

“Then out with it, what’s the matter?” 

“You said my name,” he mummured.

Hongjoong frowned, having to lean in to catch the words. Perhaps Seonghwa was lying—maybe he really had fallen ill. 

“You've never called me by my full name before.” 

It was true, but the others had always called him by his real name, interchanging between that and his alias. He didn't see why Hongjoong calling him by his name made much of a difference.

“Yeah, so,” he snapped. “It's your name isn't it. Do you not want me to use it? I can go back to addressing you as ‘Hwa’ if you're gonna get your panties in a twist about it.”

He was agitated that Seonghwa was making such a fuss. Was the name only reserved to the others because they had known him for longer?

Seonghwa rested a hand on his shoulder, stopping Hongjoong from storming off. The touch was light, if he wanted he could escape the hold. 

Hongjoong huffed but stayed in place. 

“You're always so quick to misread me, darling. You’ve no idea how long I’ve ached to hear you say it. The way my name sounds on your lips. It's like an incantation I could never hope to resist.”

Hongjoong spluttered. 

Seonghwa had been more bold in his flirting after Hongjoong had forgiven him. It was like he'd been given a green light to see how many buttons of Hongjoong's he could press. 

“Idiot.” Hongjoong brushed the hand off of his shoulder and pointingly started rushing through the market to get the hell away from Seonghwa. 

Wooyoung was wrong. 

It wasn't love sickness. 

Seonghwa was just down right sick in the head. 

 

 

 

💫

 

 

 

“I don't think we'll be able to haul all of this back to the ship,” Hongjoong deduced. 

They had gathered everything on the list that the others had requested. However, it was just too much for two people to carry all the way back to the shop without taking frequent breaks. 

To make matters worse, dark clouds were massing overhead, a churning curtain of grey creeping in from the sea. With the scent of rain clinging to the air, they’d be fortunate to find shelter before the heavens opened.

“Seonghwa, did you hear me?” Hongjoong called impatiently. 

Seonghwa hummed absentmindedly, turning away from the case that he had been perusing. Earlier, he had all but herded Hongjoong into the jewelers under the pretense of finding something to match the pearl earrings he kept in his jewelry box. 

He casted a cursory glance at the bags Hongjoong had unceremoniously dropped at his feet, and without any warning for Hongjoong's benefit, he casted a spell in his direction. 

The air shimmered and the wooden floor beneath his boots began to ripple like water. A swirling vortex opened soundlessly, swallowing the bags whole. Hongjoong yelped, skittering out of the perimeter of the vortex before he too could be swallowed up in the same matter. But just as quickly the ground solidified once more. Smooth, unmarred wood returned as though nothing had ever disturbed it.

“What would you have done if I had dropped into the hole as well!” he shrieked, feeling his heart in his chest trying to make its escape. For all he knew, that hole could have sent him to another realm!

“That spell allows for only the transport of objects from one place to another. Humans are too dense to be transported. That is why I have the portal door, my dear,” Seonghwa explained, distracted by the small pearl necklace he was currently marveling at. “The bags are already back at the castle, so no need to fret.”

“How was I supposed to know that? I'm not a wizard.”

“Oh, that's right,” Seonghwa gasped, likely just occurring to him. “Forgive me, darling,” he smiled apologetically. 

Seonghwa handed the pearl necklace to the elderly woman at the counter. She scarcely flinched when the vortex unfurled in the center of her shop. Hongjoong surmised she must have witnessed stranger phenomena in her lifetime to remain so unbothered, or perhaps it was the generous scatter of coins Seonghwa pressed into her palm that silenced any protest.

“Keep your eyes on the road, lest you want to faceplant.”

They were walking back. Seonghwa hadn't taken his eyes off of the pearl necklace for no more than a few seconds in order to turn at a corner when Hongjoong directed.

“You must really like that necklace, huh?” 

“I do,” Seonghwa smiled, finally tucking the pearls back into the fabric pouch the old woman provided him. “I really like shiny things in general. I can't seem to help myself when I’m faced with something beautiful. Gems, necklaces, bracelets.” 

He giggled, scrunching his nose up at the fond memory. “Care if I tell you a story?” 

Hongjoong nodded, not really caring to talk himself, so he didn't mind if Seonghwa wanted to fill the silence with words. 

“It's funny. When I was a child my mother used to wear the most extravagant of jewelry. She was the most beautiful of all of Aurora, well— in my opinion. I wanted to be just like her. I remember…I remember rummaging around my mother’s belongings when she would step out to tend to her garden. I’d drape myself in her most prized possessions and parade around like I was royalty. Then one day she caught me. I thought I was going to be in a hoard of trouble and simply bursted into tears.” 

Hongjoong chuckled at that. The image of small Seonghwa sulking and bedazzled in jewelry. 

“But she simply asked if I would like my own which I replied yes. She asked why and I said, because I wanted to be just like her. Then she put all of her jewelry back into her box except for one. She gave me her gold pendant and told me to cherish it. It was the only thing I had left of her, and cherished it I did. Now, I have my own collection I can parade around in,” he finished, hands coming up to touch the brooch that sat elegantly around his neck. 

The skin underneath Hongjoong's gloves were beginning to burn. He was painfully reminded of the curse and the reason why he had received it in the first place.

“My dear, what's with the long face?” Seonghwa looked at him, and how could Hongjoong tell him what he had done? He opened his mouth to speak, but no words came out other than a pained grunt. 

He felt like shit. 

Seonghwa took his elbow, steering him over to the side and Hongjoong couldn't do anything but be pulled along. 

“Seonghwa, your mother's pendant,” he said quietly. His throat worked, Adam's apple bobbing up and down trying to swallow down his guilt. 

“Mhmm… yes the one you stole.” Seonghwa’s voice was oddly calm, almost amused.

Swallowing past the lump Hongjoong forced the words out of his mouth. “I might have sold it at a pawnshop.” 

The words started to pour out of him. 

“Shit, I'm sorry. The only reason I did it was because my family needed the money. And I didn't know how long I was going to be gone for— or if I was going to be able to come back at all. I knew it was gonna fetch for a pretty penny. But if I known, what I know now, I wouldn't have given it away like that. It's just, I’m—Fuck.” 

He'd never felt remorse about stealing. There was no reason for him to think about the consequences of his actions. He couldn't consider how the person he stole from would feel because if he stopped and did that for each and every person then he would never be able to sleep at night.

But he knew of Seonghwa's past. That his mother was no longer with him. Seonghwa talked about that pendant like it was more than a keepsake. A treasure. And Hongjoong had stolen it like he did anything else he got his hands on. It was just another means for money.

“I know,” Seonghwa simply said. 

“You… know,” Hongjoong echoed, bewildered. “ And you're not upset with me?”

Seonghwa nodded, fixing the cuffs of his sleeves with an air of indifference.“I was the one that let you take it, wasn't I? If I wanted it back I could have taken it from you at any time.”

Hongjoong stared at him, incredulous. “So why didn’t you? It was your mother’s.”

Seonghwa wasn’t angry, but that only made it worse. He shouldn’t keep digging himself deeper, shouldn’t push, but the absence of Seonghwa’s anger made him want to press harder, just to feel something other than this quiet absolution.

Seonghwa only offered a faint smile. “You needed it more than I did. That’s all there is to it.” 

It wasn't pity, Hongjoong tried to tell himself. There was more there that Seonghwa wasn't letting on. Hongjoong opened his mouth to argue but—

Something collided with his legs. Hard.

He flinched, instinctively bracing for a blow, but instead looked down to see a small pair of arms wrapped tightly around his knees.

A child.

More specifically—the little boy who had recently visited the magic shop. 

“Sunwoo?”

The boy oblivious to the tension he just shattered beamed up at him. “Mr. Magic man, I went by your shop but it was closed.” 

“Where is your mother?” Hongjoong looked around but didn't spot the woman amongst the crowd. 

Sunwoo carried on as if he didn't hear the question. “The magic trick you did with the candy was so cool. You have to show me again please, please? I want to learn how to do it too!” The kid bounced up and down pulling on the side of Hongjoong's trousers. 

Honestly, Hongjoong was not in the mood for this. 

Firmly grabbing onto his shoulders to cease his hopping, Hongjoong bent down to meet Sunwoo at the child's level. “I asked you a question lad, now answer. Where is your mother?” he said sternly, using the tone he used on his younger siblings when they refused to behave.

Sunwoo bit at his lip nervously, the small hand holding onto Hongjoong's trousers clutching the fabric more tightly. “Mum was too busy working at the bakery when I asked to visit the magic shop, so I came out by myself.”

Great. 

“Go back home, Sunwoo,” he sighed, standing back up. 

He didn't miss the way his little lips started to wobble, eyes filling with tears. “But, I wanted to see a magic trick from you, mister.” 

“Your mother must be worried sick,” he tried to reason with the boy. “She's probably looking for you right this very minute. ”

The kid finally let go of his trousers in favor of wiping at his leaking eyes. “She wouldn't care. She wouldn't even notice if I ran away. I should just come live with you and become a wizard. It would be much more fun than studying all day.”

Okay. This needed to end. 

“Hate to break it to you kid, but I'm no wizard. The stunt I pulled is what you could see any panhandler in the street do. Nothing special. Now scram home, it's gonna start pouring soon.” 

A small hiccup escaped the boy, then another. Then came the waterworks, Sunwoo crying in full earnest. 

He didn't want to be mean to the kid, but it was for the best.  

Seonghwa, who had been watching the exchange, quietly glared daggers at Hongjoong. He crouched down lower than Hongjoong had, being a bit taller than he. Gently, he tapped the boy, waiting until he was finished wiping at his eyes enough to pay Seonghwa attention.Sunwoo blinked at him in surprise as if he finally realized there was someone else by Hongjoong’s side.

“Hello there,” Seonghwa greeted warmly. 

Sunwoo dipped his head in a polite greeting but kept caution, taking a step back from the stranger. “Hello, sir.” 

Seonghwa appeared ecstatic, not bothered by the action, smiling wide with all his teeth on display. “Do you know who I am?” 

The boy shook his head, the curls on his head bobbing. “No, sir.”

“Well, isn't it your lucky day? You're in the presence of the Wizard Mars,” he declared with theoretical flair. “My name's right on the shop that you've visited.” 

The boy looked unconvinced, his mouth pressing into a skeptical line. “Prove it. You could be a panhandler like this mister over here trying to trick me.” 

“Hey! Rude,” Hongjoong muttered indignantly. “You're the one that assumed I was a wizard.”

“What kind of magic would you like to see?” Seonghwa continued unfazed. 

“Suprise me,” Sunwoo shrugged. 

“Your wish is my command.”

Most of the surrounding area they stood on was made of dirt. The road continuously trampled on and worn, so there wasn't much vegetation growing. Seonghwa wandered over to a dry patch sprouting on its lonesome, delicately plucking a few strands from the brittle soil before returning to kneel once more in front of Sunwoo, cradling the dry blades in his palm.

“Watch carefully,” he instructed. 

Sunwoo leaned in with rapt attention. He seemed to be holding his breath waiting to see what Seonghwa would do next. Despite having enough magic for one day, Hongjoong also did the same, curious as to what Seonghwa was going to do in order to impress the small boy. 

The palms of his hands shimmered and sparked. The magic flowing without a spoken spell. The brittle strands of grass began to shift, stretching and curling upward as they grew supple and green with life.

At the tips, buds swelled and pulsed with color before bursting open into full blooms, their petals unfurling in a vivid spiral of pinks and golds. One flower bloomed with such force that its petals scattered like confetti, fluttering down over Sunwoo’s head in a gentle, celebratory drift.

The boy squealed gleefully, running around in circles trying to catch the raining petals. 

And Seonghwa. 

Seonghwa watched him with an expression akin to fondness and heartbreak reflected in his eyes. 

“Mister Mars! That was amazing. How did you do that? I want to do it, too. You have to make me your pupil so I can become a fantastical wizard like you when I get older,” Sunwoo exclaimed with unbridled joy. 

Seonghwa smiled warmly. “I’m honored—but becoming a wizard is no easy feat. It’s a long and demanding path.”

Sunwoo puffed out his chest with determination. “I can handle it.”

Seonghwa chuckled, quickly disguising the noise as a cough. “Is that so? Well, it took me years of studying and training before I could even think of calling myself a wizard.”

Sunwoo’s expression faltered. “Studying? How many years?”

“Thirty,” Seonghwa replied with a perfectly serious face.

“I hate studying,” Sunwoo groaned. 

“I know,” Seonghwa said with a soft chuckle, smoothing a hand over the boy’s hair like he had done Yeosang that very morning. “But if you want to become a strong wizard like your brother, then studying is a must, Minjae.”

Sunwoo blinked up at him in confusion. “I'm not Minjae. My name’s Sunwoo.”

Seonghwa visibly froze, his hand still resting atop the boy’s head. His smile faltered, and for a moment, the light in his eyes dimmed, as though something long buried had stirred.

“Oh,” he said quietly, withdrawing his hand. “You're right. I’m sorry, Sunwoo. I misspoke.”

Hongjoong decided at that moment that he should step in. Pushing Seonghwa back behind him he tried to distract the boy.

“Sunwoo, why don't you hurry along. We're actually in a hurry to depart. You know, magical adventures and all that jazz. If you're good and apologize to your mother we might bring you back something the next time we come to visit,” he said, trying to hurry the kid along.

Kicking at the dirt, Sunwoo grumbled, not really wanting to leave. He was being stubborn and Hongjoong couldn't deal with this and whatever that was going on with Seonghwa behind him.

“You'll come back? I'll study hard and listen to my mum,I promise,” Sunwoo pleaded. 

Hongjoong wasn't sure. He really wasn't sure what the future entailed. But if he knew one thing, it was that children believed adults to a certain extent, so he put a grin upon his face and lied.

“Sure kid. Don't you know a wizard always keeps their promises. And Mars always keeps his.” 

The boy's eyes searched Hongjoong’s face, wide with hope, then he stretched his neck to peer at Seonghwa behind Hongjoong who had grown eerily quiet. “Okay,” he said finally, the word small but sincere.

Just as he turned to leave, Seonghwa stepped forward, voice soft. “Sunwoo—wait.”

The boy paused and glanced back.

Seonghwa held out the bouquet of enchanted flowers, their petals still shimmering faintly from the spell. “These are for your mother. Apologize for worrying her and let her know... these will never wilt,” he said, carefully placing them in Sunwoo’s hands. “And, Hongjoong is right. I always keep my promises. So be a good boy until we return to Maeli.”

Sunwoo’s gaze lingered on the flowers in quiet awe before he nodded. “Okay.” He dipped his head respectfully, then clutched the bouquet to his chest and scampered off.

“The poor kid's gonna be disappointed in thirty years when he finds out he won't be able to become a wizard,” Hongjoong jokingly remarked. 

There was no reason for him to bring up Seonghwa's mistake of calling Sunwoo by his dead brother's name.

“This is the reason why there's a rumor that you're some sort of angel. You're way too nice.”

They continued their way back to the shop. The air considerably getting colder, nipping at Hongjoong's exposed skin. There was no way they were going to return before the storm hit.   

“I am no such thing.” 

“Hard for me to believe,but okay I'll play along.Then what are you a devil?” He tried not to jump when a loud clap of thunder sounded, but he did end up significantly closer to Seonghwa's side. “I can't really see that.” 

“Why can't you?” 

He sounded distant. As if the storm in the sky had found its way into his chest, gray and heavy and unresolved. 

“What’s the difference between an angel and devil?” Seonghwa posed. This conversation was turning out the way he had hoped. 

Talking about his mother…and then slipping up the names. It must have left him feeling unmoored. 

“An angel does good deeds while a devil does bad ones,” he answered with the most basic of information he knew. 

“You're not wrong, but you're not right either,” Seonghwa said, tone lost of his playful lit. “You see, a devil is just an angel that has fallen from grace, its wings stained black from the sins they have committed." 

“Are you saying you're a devil that's fallen from grace?”

The first raindrop landed on Hongjoong’s head, sharp and cold. Then another.

Moments later, the heavens opened, and the rain began to pour.

“You can’t be serious, Seonghwa. What sins could you have committed? I'm the thief here.”

If he had learned anything. One thing for sure was that Seonghwa was hard on himself. It showed in the hastily scribbled notes that Hongjong had found in his study. In the mountain of books he kept in order to break their curses. In the way he had been looking for years for the Cromer artifact in order to keep it away from the hands of those who could use it for evil. 

“Too many to count, I’m afraid.”

“I guess… every man has their own sins, no matter how big or small,” he said thoughtfully. “But there is nothing you could possibly do to make you equal to those monsters who just want to see the world in ruin.” 

A flash of lightning lit up the sky, illuminating Seonghwa's face in blue. His hair was beginning to plaster to his skin and Hongjoong so badly wanted to tuck the pieces behind his ear like he'd seen Seonghwa do before.

“Oh but darling, don't you know? Sometimes to defeat a monster you must become one.”

 

 

 

💫

 

 

 

Hongjoong didn't know it yet, but he would come to understand Seonghwa’s words sooner than later. 

Much sooner. 

They should have listened to Seonghwa that morning, when he claimed he had an ominous feeling. Hongjoong had nearly dragged him back to the ship. He should have followed through. Then maybe they wouldn’t be caught in what was about to unfold. 

“It seems we have some unwanted guests, my dear,” Seonghwa mummured, watching the dark cloaked figures trail out of the alleyway in front of them. 

“We were almost home too,” he said quietly under his breath. 

Tracking them through the rain, Hongjoong counted at least five cloaked figures. Three obstructed the path ahead, and the other two were concealed deep within the shadows of the alley.

Their faces were obscured, but from the way they held themselves,their poised stances and restrained movements, he could discern the unmistakable discipline of trained combatants.

“Hongjoong, careful,” Seonghwa warned lowly. “Look at their crest.” 

On the breast of their cloak was a small crest. A dragon's eye embroidered in red thread. A crest that couldn't be taken lightly.   

“Kingsmen.” 

Hatred seeped off of Seonghwa like venom from a snake's fang. His body visibly shook from how hard he was tensing his muscles. 

“Didn't you receive a compulsory enlistment letter for Mars?" he whispered, eyes never leaving the cloaked figures. 

Seonghwa's eyes darted over to him then away. Hongjoong had forgotten that was part of the conversation that he had overheard and wasn't told to him directly.“Yes, but I– they shouldn't have arrived so quickly. There's still some grace period left before I have to give my answer to the kingdom.” 

“They won’t know ‘Hwa’ and ‘Mars’ are the same person, right?” 

“Everyone in Maeli believes that I am Mars. When I come here I cast a glamour spell that changes my appearance completely. To everyone else outside of the castle ‘Hwa’ and ‘Mars’ are two completely different people.”

Then maybe this was a separate matter as for why the King's personal army had come to Maeli.  

“Let me handle this. I'll try to figure out their purpose and see if we can end this civilly.” 

“And if you can't?” 

There was doubt there.

They both knew it wouldn't end anywhere near civil. 

“Be prepared to run like hell.”

The cloaked figures remained still as Hongjoong edged closer. It was hard to gauge their expressions with half their faces hidden by masks and hoods covering their heads. He left a wide berth between them, in case he had to make a fast escape. Or in case he got bumrushed with a surprise attack. He wasn't taking any chances. 

“What can I do for you fellas on this fine day?” Hongjoong said courteously. He had to sweep his wet fringe out of his eyes. It had grown considerably. Usually it wouldn't have bothered him. He knew it wasn't the time to think about it, but he wished he would have cut it.

One of the men stepped forward, breaking away from the line blocking their path. Hongjoong assumed the man must have been the leader of the group. 

“Are you Kim Hongjoong?”  

It took everything in him not to let his smile transform into that of shock. He could feel his left eyebrow subtly twitch and he reached up to rub at the corner of it as if he was wiping away a stray raindrop clinging to his skin. 

“Sorry to say I never heard of the name. I think you've got the wrong man.”  

“Funny you should say that,” the man remarked. “Because we have a wanted poster, and the resemblance is uncanny.” 

The man lifted his arm, the sleeve of his cloak falling back to reveal a small metal band around his wrist. Hongjoong recognized that device. It was the same issued one Yunho had. 

He clicked the green disc and out came a holographic image of a red-headed man with hard eyes and a thieving grin. 

Hongjoong was staring at his own wanted poster.

“Would you look at that? I think we've found your twin.” 

Discreetly Hongjoong felt for the pocket knife he kept concealed in his boot, calculating how fast he could whip it out if need be. He's never had to fight any Kingsmen, always having to go toe to toe with ruffians in the street or men who thought they could get one over on Hongjoong because of his size. But there was a first for everything. 

Like for instance, this was a first he's ever had his face on a wanted poster. 

A second Kingsman stepped forward drawing a gun from his holster. “Kim Hongjoong, you are wanted for aiding Wizard Hwa and conspiring against the King. You shall come quietly or we will use force.” 

“Hongjoong, they are not being civil,” Seonghwa wearily said from behind him.

“No shit,” he muttered darkly. 

How had they found him? He hadn’t seen any posters with his face on them in town,not in the markets, nor on the alley walls they passed. And this was only his second time stepping beyond the shop since arriving.

Which meant someone must have recognized him.

A customer, maybe. Someone who wandered into the shop, caught a glimpse of his face, and later connected the dots. It wasn’t impossible.

“For the sake of the kingdom, tell us where Wizard Hwa is. If you reveal his location the King might give you leniency.” 

That was right. No one in Maeli knew Seonghwa as the wizard Hwa. To them, he was only Mars, the aloof proprietor of a magical curiosity shop on the edge of town. 

But even then it didn’t explain how they’d traced him here. Capital was far away. 

It didn’t add up.

Unless…

Lightning cracked across the sky, thunder trailing a second behind. The time between was shrinking. The storm was reaching its zenith.

“He’s gone,” Hongjoong lied, his voice rising over the rush of rain. “He abandoned me in this backwater town. You’re wasting your time.”

As long as they didn’t realize Seonghwa was the man standing directly behind him, they might still make it out. Hongjoong wasn’t the prize,only a lead. 

If he could just find a way to signal for Seonghwa to not use his magic. Releasing a spell would only draw more attention. He could feel Seonghwa's magic radiating heat at his back. Like he was drawing energy, preparing for an attack. 

“It would be best not to lie to us, scoundrel,” the first Kingsman said. “We have officers searching every corner of this place for him. If we find him then it will only add embedding to your list of charges against the King.” 

“By all means check. I'll wait.” 

He wouldn't. 

He had already found their exit. 

The scaffolding on the side of the building next to them was rickety and half collapsed but he was sure it would hold their weight. Hongjoong knew he was fast but he hoped he would be fast enough to outrun the bullets of a gun. He would leave that up to Seonghwa if need be. 

The Kingsman pressed a side button on the bracelet and spoke into the receiver. “Any luck yet?” 

Hongjoong reached behind him getting ready. He felt Seonghwa’s rainslicked hand slide into his own squeezing. 

The garbled crackle of a voice permeated from the receiver and Hongjoong held his breath. He tugged their joined hands ever so slightly, willing Seonghwa to catch on. 

“Boss, found this rat sneaking around the back. Thought he could hide under the crates.” From the shadows a figure emerged, one of the cloaked men stationed in the alleyway. He held a small, struggling boy tightly under one arm. 

“Let me go!” Sunwoo kicked and writhed, small fists pounding against the soldier’s grip. “Let go of me!”

Hongjoong’s heart plummeted. “Sunwoo.” 

Seonghwa’s hand held Hongjoong's in a death grip.

The soldier yanked the boy upright by the collar, as if to display a trophy. “He yours? Because if you don’t talk, we’ll start asking him some questions.”

“You wouldn’t dare—,” Hongjoong began, but the Kingsman cut him off with a dry, humorless laugh.

“You’re harboring a fugitive, traitor. There’s nothing we wouldn’t do to get the information we need.” He shook Sunwoo like a ragdoll, the boy’s small frame snapping forward with a choked cry.

Hongjoong released Seonghwa’s hand to reach into his boot, fingers closing around the hilt of his concealed blade. Yanking it out swiftly, he angled the knife toward the soldier clutching Sunwoo.

“He’s a child,” he snarled, voice sharp as the blade in his grasp. “Let him go, you sick fuck.”

The Kingsman holding Sunwoo sneered, unfazed by the blade pointed at him. Instead of loosening his grip, he tightened it. Sunwoo let out a sharp cry, tears and rain falling profusely from his cheeks. 

“Enough,” another Kingsman barked from their right. “We’re not here to beat children.”

“And you think the King cares about that?” the first one snapped, eyes still locked on Hongjoong. “He’s a loose end. Just like the rest of them.”

“You're a mean bully,” Sunwoo wailed. That was all the warning they got before Sunwoo twisted upward and sank his little teeth into the arm of the Kingsman.

The Kingsman howled in pain, instinctively dropping Sunwoo. The boy hit the ground with a sharp yelp, his small frame crumpling awkwardly onto his arm.

“Filthy little wretch!” the soldier snarled. In a blind surge of rage, he drew his gun and brought the butt down hard against the side of Sunwoo’s head.

The crack of impact was sickening. Sunwoo collapsed without another sound, his head striking the mud with a hollow splash.

“Kid!”

Hongjoong didn't care about the guns currently aimed at him. The danger and the storm surrounding him was all but forgotten. He pushed the Kingsman away and dove for Sunwoo.

An angry welt had already begun to swell at Sunwoo’s temple, discolored and furious beneath his rain-soaked hair. But he seemed fine, just temporarily unconscious.

“That was excessive,” the second Kingsman growled, storming forward and seizing his comrade by the collar of his cloak. His tone was taut with fury. “We don't hurt innocents.”

“Dispatch medical,” the leader ordered into his bracelet. “Civilian minor down. Immediate care required.”

Backup was en route. The radio static and terse commands made that clear.

While the Kingsmen bickered, they had a narrow window—a chance to flee. If they moved quickly, they could vanish under the guise of the storm. And if they carried Sunwoo with them, it was unlikely the soldiers would risk shooting. From their reactions, they even balked at the optics of harming a child.

It was the perfect opportunity.

But Hongjoong couldn't find it in himself to move. 

Would it be wiser to leave the boy? 

Medical personnel were already on the way. They could treat his head wound, ensure his safety, bringing him back to his parents. 

And Hongjoong and Seonghwa, they needed to run. If they stayed any longer, they’d risk the threat of capture. 

His gaze snapped to Seonghwa looking for any signs of what to do. 

Rain clung to Seonghwa’s lashes, dripping from the sharp angle of his jaw, but he was utterly still, watching Hongjoong with an unreadable expression.

Hongjoong inhaled a sharp intake of breath. 

Seonghwa's eyes…

The gold had disappeared.

It bled from his irises, slow and luminous, slipping down his cheeks like molten tears, catching the stormlight with an otherworldly glint, too beautiful to belong to something born of grief.

He was crying gold. 

“They killed him. They killed him and I let it happen… again,” he said, devoid of emotion. He wiped at his face, smearing gold across his skin like streaks of paint. 

“Seonghwa—," Hongjoong’s voice cracked, too soft against the roar of the rain. He pulled Sunwoo’s small body closer and gently turned him. “Look. He’s breathing. He’s not dead.”

Seonghwa shook his head furiously. “No, please don't lie to me. I know he's gone. There isn't a way to bring him back—I've already tried.” 

 “Who are you talking about?” Hongjoong had a sinking feeling that Seonghwa wasn't referring to Sunwoo.

“Minjae!” he screamed—and it came out like a monstrous roar. Hongjoong instantly clapped his hands over his ears from the sheer unnatural volume. “They killed him! They killed everyone, and I—,” his voice broke into a snarl, “I couldn’t do anything but hide.”

He collapsed to his knees, shoulders heaving, head cradled in his trembling hands. A guttural wail tore from his throat—so raw, so inhuman, it scraped across the air like metal dragged across stone.

“What the hell is going on?” the leader barked, voice tight with confusion and a trace of fear. His hand hovered near his weapon. 

Hongjoong had no idea what was happening.

The air grew hotter by the second. Rain hissed against the rising heat, evaporating on contact and swirling around them as steam, turning the downpour into a dense, suffocating fog.

“They take and take and take and take,” Seonghwa chanted, voice climbing in pitch. “They tear it all down—names, faces, homes. Gods—until there’s nothing left but ash,” he clenched his jaw holding back another scream.

Something was wrong. 

Very wrong. 

Hongjoong swore that in the fog he could see the outline of feathers.

Magic was visibly permeating from his body, like a faucet that couldn't seem to turn off. Hongjoong had never felt this much unrestrained magic. But he could tell that it was different from what he usually felt from Seonghwa. He’d come to recognize it as an energizing pulse. How it felt like sunrise. Encompassing, radiating, threaded with warmth. 

It had always felt like him.

This magic was foreign, volatile. It left fear in the air, raising the hairs on the back of Hongjoong’s neck, sinking its claws beneath his skin like a silent threat. There was no comfort left in it. Only heat. Rage.

The fog began to thin, peeling back just enough for Hongjoong to see Seonghwa clearly.

Wings.

They were tearing themselves from Seonghwa’s back, vast, black, and growing by the second. Feathers sprouted across his skin, slick with rain and blood, trailing down his neck and arms like a spreading affliction. Each one pierced through with a quiet cruelty, staining his pale skin crimson where they emerged.

He looked like something divine—and wrathful.

An avenging angel adorned with wings dyed black by sin.

And despite the violence of it all, Seonghwa stood tall beneath the weight of those wings, trembling with power, his golden tears still falling.

“Seonghwa, what did you do?” he said, voice wavering. He registered that his body had gone rigid from shock. 

Seonghwa turned his arm over watching the inky feathers sprout. “I did what was needed.” His gaze fell to the Kingsmen who had their weapons drawn at him. “And I'll continue to do what needs to be done to protect what I have left.” 

“Stay back! He's a black magic user!”

Faster than Hongjoong’s eyes could track, Seonghwa vanished from his place in the fog.

There was a wet crack. A scream cut short. Then another.

By the time Hongjoong blinked, one of the Kingsmen was already crumpling to the ground, throat torn open, arterial spray painting the wall behind him. Another stumbled back, clutching at the jagged tear in his abdomen, viscera spilling through his fingers like ropes of glistening meat.

Gods—

Seonghwa reappeared behind the next, wings spread wide and monstrous, casting a shadow far too large for the alley. His hands—no, claws—dug into the man’s ribcage from behind. With a sickening pop and a sound like breaking branches, he tore the man apart.

Hongjoong choked on the bile rising in his throat. 

He was grateful that Sunwoo was unconscious and didn't have to bear witness to the carnage that was happening right in front of them.

Another Kingsman tried to flee, the one that was still hidden. He didn't get far only to be snatched mid-step, impaled through the chest on a wingtip that was sharper than Hongjoong’s own blade. The man gurgled, reaching for the wound like it could somehow be undone, and Seonghwa tilted his head in eerie curiosity before ripping the wing free. 

The body slumped, lifeless.

“Stop—” Hongjoong breathed, though his voice barely came out. “Hwa—”

Plea heard on deaf ears, Seonghwa turned toward the last man, the one who had attacked Sunwoo. 

He raised his gun with shaking hands.“No—no, stay back—” he cried. Then the index finger holding the trigger pressed down.

The bullet fired. 

Seonghwa didn’t flinch. The shot went wide, or maybe it hit and simply didn’t register. 

In a blink, Seonghwa was on him, talons plunging into the man’s chest. The Kingsman’s mouth opened in a soundless scream and Hongjoong finally had to turn away from the brutality. 

“I am not a killer.” 

Those words that Seonghwa had said to put Hongjoong at ease on the dock were ringing through his mind now. If he was not a killer then he was one now. 

This was beyond killing. 

“Beloved?” 

Hongjoong slowly opened his eyes, blinking past the blurriness that temporarily obscured his vision. 

It was dark. 

Seonghwa towered over him.

His silhouette was barely human now—limbs elongated, feathers clinging to blood-slick skin, wings spanning wide enough to block out the fog-dimmed sky. But as Hongjoong looked up, breath caught in his throat, those monstrous wings began to shift.

Slowly… carefully… they folded inward, curling around them like a barrier. 

Feathered limbs swept forward, eclipsing the carnage behind him. The scent of blood and smoke dulled, muffled beneath the warm, pulsing cocoon. The world beyond the wings faded, and all that remained was Seonghwa—his breath ragged, his body trembling, his head bowed as golden tears continued to slip down his cheeks.

He shouldn't feel protected. He should feel terrified of the man before him.

“Are you hurt? There's blood everywhere,” he whispered, too afraid anything higher than that would spook Seonghwa. 

Seonghwa shook his head quietly, eyes downcasted. 

Hongjoong reached out a gloved hand, carefully adjusting Sunwoo’s weight in his lap. His fingers brushed across the curve of Seonghwa’s wing, velvet-soft, almost impossibly so. But when he drew his hand back, it was wet with blood. Sticky. Metallic.

“He shot you.” It comes out more angry than he wanted.  

You know what? He was angry.

Seonghwa wasn't made for this. He was soft and the world was forcing him to become something he was never meant to be. 

“Don't worry about me. I am fine,” Seonghwa replied somberly. “Does this… not scare you.” 

He was worried more about Hongjoong being afraid of him than of his own injuries. He was truly too kind for this world.

“Why should I be afraid of an angel?” he said, gently wiping away as much as he could of the golden tears. “Look, you're even weeping for me. I should be honored.” 

Seonghwa leaned into the touch, closing his eyes tiredly. The sight sends a sharp pain through Hongjoong’s chest.

“You should go, it's not safe here,” Seonghwa mummured, opening his eyes after a few somber seconds and glancing down at Sunwoo with restrained pain. 

“And you? You're coming with me.” 

“I can not.”

Hongjoong didn't like that answer. 

“Back up will arrive any minute. I have to make sure they don't follow us,” he explained calmly. “I want you to return the boy to his home and head straight back to the castle to warn the others. Tell them to leave as soon as Wooyoung can get the castle running.” 

Unfurling his wings to rest behind his back, Seonghwa helped Hongjoong to his feet. The storm had finally passed leaving wreckage in its wake. The smell of rainwater and blood instantly assaulted his senses. 

To think earlier in the day they had been shopping and bickering in the street. 

“I'm only leaving because of Sunwoo,” he sighed, hiking the boy's body higher to make sure he had a good grip. 

“I know,” Seonghwa said, inching away from them both. “I'll distract as many Kingsmen as I can. Try to tread lightly and not get caught. I won't be there to help you regrettably.” 

Hongjoong scoffed despite the situation they were currently in; he was a little amused. “Being discreet is what I do best. You should worry about yourself.” 

“Hongjoong, please,” Seonghwa pleaded, and Hongjoong felt guilty for trying to lighten the atmosphere.

“I promise to be careful if only you promise to do the same,” he said, meeting Seonghwa's eyes directly. He wouldn't take no for an answer. 

“I promise.” 

 

 

 

💫

 

 

 

He waited until the last Kingsman turned the corner before slinking from his hiding place and rejoining the main street. A few stragglers remained, still rapping on doors and peering into alleyways, making Hongjoong hesitate. But then a wide-range summons crackled over the comms, calling all remaining units to the east side of Maeli, finally granting him the opening he needed.

He had no idea where the boy’s house was. Worse still, Sunwoo remained unconscious, his small body limp in Hongjoong’s arms. Panic gnawed at the edge of his mind. If the boy didn’t wake soon, he feared he might be dealing with a concussion.

Sunwoo had mentioned his mother worked at a bakery, and Hongjoong recalled the basket of fresh pastries she had gifted them. It was the only lead he had.

The streets were sparsely populated, thanks to the lingering storm and the ominous presence of the Kingsmen. Most of Maeli’s residents had wisely chosen to remain indoors. Still, Hongjoong kept his guard up, attempting to appear inconspicuous, as if he were just another older brother trudging home with his sleeping sibling in tow.

His gaze swept over the buildings, searching intently for signage or any hint of a bakery. The town wasn’t large; he was bound to stumble across it eventually. He quickened his pace, acutely aware that he still needed to alert the others as soon as possible.

A young woman was sweeping the steps in front of what appeared to be a salon. She seemed his best chance at asking for directions. Anyone older might view him with suspicion.

Using the reflection in a darkened shopfront window, Hongjoong checked himself over. There were no signs of blood on his face or clothes. He ran a hand through his hair, smoothing it as best he could. He wasn't dashing, but he hoped his boyish charm would make him look harmless enough. 

As a second thought he adjusted Sunwoo's head to his other shoulder, covering the side of his temple that had been hit. He didn't need any unnecessary questions. 

“Excuse me,” he greeted politely.

The woman paused mid-sweep, glancing up at him. “Yes? Can I help you?”

“Well, I certainly hope so,” he replied with a soft laugh, doing his best to appear disarming. “You see, we’re on our way to visit our dear aunt. It’s been quite some time since we last saw her. The journey was long, and we’d meant to arrive earlier, but the storm delayed us.”

“Oh, goodness! Did you two come in on the ferry? In this weather?” she gasped, her expression laced with concern. “That must’ve been dreadful.” 

“Yes, that’s right,” he nodded. “And I just know our aunt is going to scold us for being late. She warned us to catch the earliest ferry yesterday, but this little one here came down with a fever and was ill until late last night.”

Right on cue, Sunwoo let out a faint whimper, tightening his arms around Hongjoong’s neck. Hongjoong gently rubbed his back, murmuring soft reassurances, silently praying the boy wouldn’t fully wake until they were somewhere safe.

“The poor thing,” the woman cooed. “He must still be recovering.”

“Exactly,” Hongjoong said quickly, capitalizing on her sympathy. “Anyway, I was hoping you could point me toward a bakery. My aunt adores those miniature chocolate croissants, and I’d hoped to bring her a peace offering before we show up on her doorstep.”

“Oh! You’re almost there,” she said with a smile. “Ahn’s Bakery isn’t far. Just continue up the street. When you see the orange clay shingles on top of the tailor’s shop, it’ll be two doors down.”

“Perfect,” he replied, flashing a grateful smile. “Thank you so much.” 

As soon as he was far enough out of sight, Sunwoo let out another pained whimper followed by a groan. He started to wiggle uncomfortably in his hold. Concerned, Hongjoong detoured to a nearby bench, its surface dampened by the lingering rain, and gently laid the boy down.

“Hey there, little man,” he murmured, brushing wet strands of hair from Sunwoo’s forehead. “How’re you holding up? Does your head still hurt?” 

“It hurts a lot. I want to go home, mister,” Sunwoo sniffled, his small hands balling tightly at his shirt.

“Don’t worry,” Hongjoong said gently, smoothing a hand over the boy’s damp hair. “I’m taking you to your mother—she’ll know how to fix you right up. But before we get there, I need to make sure you don’t have a concussion. So I’m going to ask you to do a few little things for me first, alright? Do you think you can do that for me?”

There was no medical certificate with his name on it but Hongjoong knew of what symptoms to look for when someone was having a concussion. He liked to thank Yunho for being so clumsy in childhood for his extensive practice.

He gently tilted Sunwoo’s chin up so their eyes could meet. “Alright, little man, I need you to follow my finger with just your eyes, okay? Don’t move your head.”

Sunwoo blinked up at him, tear tracks dried on his cheeks, but nodded.

“Good,” Hongjoong said softly, lifting a finger and moving it side to side. “Just like that. You’re doing great.”

Sunwoo's eyes followed, sluggish but responsive.

“Okay. Now, how many fingers am I holding up?” He held up two.

“Two.”

“Perfect. One more thing.” Hongjoong took a breath. “Do you remember your name?”

“Sunwoo.”

“And your mom’s name?”

“Mum." 

Hongjoong smiled faintly. “Yup, that's fine. I think we’re in the clear. Your head might still hurt, but it doesn’t look like anything serious. Just no falling asleep again until we get you home, alright?”

Sunwoo sniffled and nodded, still curled up but clearly a little calmer now. 

Hesitantly, he thought about what he wanted to ask next. He didn't want to set the boy off but it was important for him to know. 

“Hey, kid? “Whats the last thing you remember?” he asked patiently.

Hongjoong saw the little cogs in his head whirring as he tried to place the memory. 

“The magic flowers Mister Mars gave me,” he grinned. Then just as quickly it fell from his face. “I lost Mister Mars’ flowers. What am I going to give my mum?” he whined.

“It’s alright. How about, when you’re feeling a bit better, you go pick her some new ones? They might not last as long, but it’s the thought that matters, not the magic.”

“It's not as cool, but alright,” he sulked. 

Memory loss. 

There was no telling whether the fragments Sunwoo had forgotten would eventually resurface or remain lost for good. For his sake,and for Hongjoong’s peace of mind,he hoped the boy would be spared the memory of the attack entirely. Some things were better left forgotten.

Hongjoong ruffled Sunwoo’s hair gently before lifting him back into his arms. He was growing heavy now, Hongjoong’s muscles beginning to strain from carrying him so long, but he bore the weight without complaint. It was the least he could do,when there was nothing else he could.

“Okay kiddo, let's find mum.” 

They arrived at the bakery where they found his mother straight away. Hongjoong was right, she had been worried sick trying to find Sunwoo. 

They arrived at the bakery and found his mother almost immediately. As Hongjoong suspected, she had been worried sick, searching high and low for Sunwoo.

Her concern deepened the moment she saw the bump on his head. Thinking quickly, Hongjoong spun a plausible story: Sunwoo had come looking for the shop, and when he found it closed, he tried to climb through an unlocked window they had forgotten to secure. He slipped, fell, and hit his head—his cries drawing them to the scene.

To his relief, Sunwoo remained silent the entire time, never once speaking up to contradict the story.

His mother thanked him profusely wanting to thank him properly for his help.Hongjoong simply waved it off. He was in a hurry, after all, he needed to make it back to the ship.

He hugged Sunwoo goodbye, and if he felt a pang of sadness when the boy held on, not wanting to let go, then that was his burden to bear.

Urgency pressed Hongjoong forward. A loud commotion echoed through the center of town. Gunshots and muffled shouts reached his ears, stirring a strange sense of déjà vu. Curious onlookers began to emerge, drawn by the growing ruckus.It seemed Seonghwa and the Kingsmen were stirring up a scene. 

He looked to the skies for a chanced glimpse of black wings, but the sky had long since cleared. The only thing overhead was the sun, gleaming apologetically as if trying to make amends for the storm it had sent.

Sorrowful eyes and Seonghwa's wails haunted his mind unbidden.

There was so much blood dripping down his pale skin as feathers erupted from it. It all looked so painful. How could that have been Seonghwa? Yet, it was. He had seen it all with his very own eyes. Gold bleeding. Talons ripping. That couldn't have been magic. Not like that.

He decided he would make Seonghwa tell him when they were both safe and back on the ship. Because Seonghwa would come back alright. He had promised Hongjoong. 

In front of the Mars’ Magic Shop, two Kingsmen loitered near the entrance, peering through the windows as if waiting for something to move.Hongjoong ducked behind a passing fruit cart, its wooden wheels creaking lazily along the road.

He had assumed they’d all regrouped in the East after the call had gone out. He was wrong. Some were still out hunting, searching for him.

Charging straight to the door would be reckless. Suicidal, even.

He needed to draw them away. Just far enough for him to slip inside unnoticed.

He waited until the cart rolled a few paces past the shop. Feeling only a small bit of remorse for what he was about to do he sprang into motion.

Quick hands, a swift twist of metal, and the wheel buckled under its own weight. The entire cart jolted, lurching sideways. Apples, pears, and several overripe peaches cascaded onto the road, tumbling into the dirt with a large clatter. Under the cover of the chaos, Hongjoong darted across to the other side of the street, unnoticed.

“What in the—my fruit!” the vendor bellowed, jumping down and throwing his arms up in wild exasperation. “These cursed roads! When’s the King finally going to fix ’em, huh? What do I pay taxes for if not this?” He waved a bruised peach at the nearest men. “Hey! You two—make yourselves useful and help me clean this up. It’s the least you could do for the kingdom!”

The Kingsmen, startled by the sharp command, exchanged a glance before hurrying over. One tried to placate the furious vendor, hands raised in apology, while the other crouched down and began gathering the scattered fruit, stuffing it back into the cracked cart.

Without a hitch, Hongjoong slipped through the door of the shop, unseen.

Exhaling heavily, he moved toward the back of the shop. All of the shelves were empty of the vials and crystals that were previously there, boxed up and put away somewhere inside of the castle. It was strange how accustomed he had gotten to seeing the inside of this shop. And now it would accumulate dust again, abandoned until the owners returned once more. 

Heading to the back room Hongjoong found the maroon door waiting for him. Stealing himself he opened the door, the familiar sensation of the portal washing over him. Stepping right into the living room he found none of the members of the crew. 

Frowning, he wandered into the kitchen where he found Wooyoung pacing the floors and Jongho sitting at the table watching him with visible worry.

They both looked up at him when he entered, Wooyoung's face falling when he only spotted one person and not two.

“Where is he?” Wooyoung asked, voice sharp and rising. “Where’s Seonghwa?” His eyes darted behind Hongjoong, desperately hoping someone else would follow.

“We have to go. Now,” he said, skipping over the question. “Jongho, go gather the others and warn them that we've been found by the Kingsmen. I've been given orders by Seonghwa to leave and get as far away as we can.” 

Jongho, adapting to the stakes of the situation, quickly rushed out to gather the remaining members as asked. 

“Damn it, Hongjoong. Where is he? Where's Seonghwa?” Wooyoung frantically spewed. “Something's wrong.His heart’s gone all cold and his energy's spiraling. Is he hurt?” His eyes were glowing red, breath hitching in wheezing gasps.He was on the verge of having a full on panic attack. 

Hongjoong didn't want to lie to Wooyoung, but he didn't want to sugarcoat things either.

“Wooyoung, Seonghwa is hurt,” he explained calmly. “We were attacked and he had an episode. He lost control and he killed some Kingsmen.” 

Wooyoung gasped, covering his mouth to suppress a distraught whimper. 

“He's leading them away from us but he promised he would come as soon as he can. Wait– where are you going?” 

Wooyoung was storming out of the kitchen. 

He turned around with a look of steeled determination. “You don't get it. I'm the one who's supposed to protect him. He's out there all alone and you left him.” 

Hongjoong could feel his anger rising at the accusation but clamped it down knowing that Wooyoung didn't really mean it. 

“There was a little boy who got caught in the crossfire.He urged me to get him out of there.” 

Wooyoung's eyes widened, connecting the dots. “I'm sorry. I shouldn't blame you like that. It's just— I'm worried about him.” 

“I understand," he sighed, wishing this could be easier. “It'll be okay. Have faith in him, Woo. You know Seonghwa better than I. He’ll do everything he can to come back.” 

Wooyoung lowered his gaze, his brows furrowed in quiet turmoil.“It's just I sensed two energy signatures, so I thought you were together,” he mumbled. 

Hongjoong felt his blood freeze. 

“You felt two?” 

He barely had time to process what Wooyoung had said when a loud click echoed from the front room, distinct and mechanical.

Wooyoung paused, turning to Hongjoong.“Is that what I think it is?” 

Hongjoong was running before Wooyoung could finish his sentence. 

He reached the living room first, heart in his throat. What he found was their worst case scenario. 

A Kingsman stood near the maroon door, gun raised. The barrel was aimed straight at Yeosang, who had frozen mid-step. His hands were raised slightly, face pale with shock.

“Yeosang!” Wooyoung screamed.

It was one of the Kingsmen that was lurking around the front of the shop. He had somehow found a way inside. 

Hongjoong's mind was racing. The castle was supposed to be impenetrable. So how had he gotten inside? 

“You made a big mistake coming in here,” Wooyoung growled. 

Heat radiated intensely from his hands, fire licking at his palms, eager for release. 

The intruder’s eyes locked onto Hongjoong's. 

Something in that gaze jolted him — not the cold intent behind the weapon, but the familiarity buried just beneath it. The man’s stance was rigid, trained, yet his eyes… they weren’t unfamiliar.It was the kind of knowing that didn’t make sense.

For the briefest moment, the Kingsman’s hand hesitated on the trigger.

So did Hongjoong’s breath.

Then the moment shattered as Wooyoung lunged forward, fire crackling at his fingertips.

It was like it played out in slow motion and high-speed at the same time. 

“Don’t hurt him!” Hongjoong snapped, tackling Wooyoung to the ground before he could reach the Kingsman. He captured his wrist together in his hands, fire burning around his gloves until they extinguished out. 

“Are you crazy?” Wooyoung shouted, struggling beneath him. “What is wrong with you?! He's going to shoot Yeosang,” he cried out. 

“He won't,” he said with conviction. 

“You can't know that!” 

“I do!” he yelled back. 

Hongjoong lifted his head, heart hammering, and met the gaze of the man still holding the gun.

“What are you doing here?”

The Kingsman slowly lowered his weapon. Then, with a deliberate hand, he pulled back his hood and tugged down his mask.

“Did I,” the man began dryly, “or did I not tell you to dye your damn hair?”

He let the words hang there, unimpressed.

“You wouldn’t be so recognizable if you’d just dyed it black like I told you to.”

 

 

Notes:

*** Next chapter will be delayed until I can get my life together. Sorry guys 😰 Writing and juggling work is hard.

Chapter 8: The Only Way From Here Is Up

Notes:

Hey guys sorry for the delay!

I spent a long time on this because I was tryin gout the different Pov styles and wanted to see which ones would fit better in the story. So get ready for Yunho PoV! deserved since he was missing for so long.

IM SORRY!!!!

I will make it up to you with YunGI moments.

And with that there are the usual *Trigger Warnings so be mindful while you are reading

 

 

💫

 

 

 

Yunho. 

He was here. In the castle. 

That couldn't be right. He wasn't supposed to be here. 

He was supposed to be safe, back at home, working with the military police, watching over their family until Hongjoong figured out his shit and came back. But here he was standing before him. 

Yunho appeared different from when he had seen him last. He had always carried a small spark in his tired eyes, but now it was gone, its absence rendered all the more apparent by the livid shadows newly settled beneath them.

His beige police-issued uniform that Hongjoong had grown accustomed to, no matter how much he despised it, was replaced with the Kingsmen's signature black cloak, the royal crest damning and bright against the fabric. 

This had to be a dream. 

It had to be. What other conceivable explanation was there?  

Yunho had given him his word that he wouldn't take matters into his own hands and join the King's army. Hongjoong would rather cut off his right hand than let that happen. Joining the ranks of the Kingsmen would only grind Yunho's kind soul until there was nothing left but dust.

He stared up at Yunho, struggling to make sense of what had just happened, until Wooyoung squirmed beneath him, jabbing a sharp elbow into his side. Hongjoong gasped at the sudden sting, the fleeting pulse of pain between his lower ribs.

It was real. The pain in his side was real.

Hongjoong wasn’t dreaming. 

Yunho had disobeyed him. He had done the unthinkable. 

Like a rising tide crashing over him, fear threatened to sweep him away entirely. 

In his disbelief Hongjoong’s grip on Wooyoung's wrist slackened. Seizing the moment, Wooyoung shoved him aside, scrambling to his feet. In an instant, he was across the room, arms wrapping protectively around Yeosang, his eyes narrowing into a warning snarl at Yunho, daring him to take another step closer.

Gathering his scattered senses, Hongjoong pushed himself upright on numb legs.

“Brother, you can't be here. How—how did you even get in?”

Footsteps echoed from the staircase loud and heavy. Hongjoong bit down on the inside of his cheek. He had barely succeeded in stopping Wooyoung from landing a blow on Yunho, but with San and his poor history of heeding reason, Hongjoong braced for what was coming.

San appeared first. Mingi and Jongho followed close behind, proof that Jongho had obeyed Hongjoong’s earlier order to fetch them.

“Yes,” San said as he approached. “Please explain to me how your brother, a Kingsman at that, has found his way inside the castle?”  

Yunho's eyes shifted over to the others as they filed into the living room, his focus landing on San's hostile ones. The lowered gun in his grip raised a fraction higher. 

Everyone was taut with tension. 

It felt like one wrong breath could tip them all into another bloodbath. Hongjoong had to do something in order to diffuse the situation lest someone ended up dead.

“San don't do anything rash.” 

San let out a short, humorless laugh. “You have about ten seconds to tell me what the fuck is going on before I kill this bastard, brother of yours or not. I’m already giving you the benefit of the doubt, Hongjoong. Seonghwa isn’t here, and a Kingsman is, which already puts your ass in the hole.”

He turned, jabbing a finger toward Yunho. “I asked a question, and it had better be a damn good explanation, or there will be one less person breathing in this room,” San threatened, utterly contemptuous for the gun present between them. 

“Answer, Yunho,” Hongjoong said, trying to distract Yunho’s attention away from San. “I want to know too.”

Yunho dragged his attention back to him, though his stance shifted to keep the others in his periphery. “You should know. You're the one who taught me how to pick locks,” he said matter-of-factly.

The corner of Hongjoong’s mouth twitched without his consent, the barest ghost of a smile trying to form. He hadn’t thought Yunho had ever mastered the trick. Back then, he’d always give up after failing to escape the room Hongjoong had occasionally locked him in.

“That doesn't explain the portal door,” San brought up, looking towards Wooyoung for a clearer answer. 

Wooyoung glowered at the maroon door as if he was having an unspoken conversation with it. Then he sighed.

“The castle granted him passage. The same as it did for Hongjoong,” he explained, arms relaxing around Yeosang's body with that certainty. “If he was chosen by the castle then he isn't a real threat to us.” 

Recognition dawned quietly among them, that Yunho, against all odds, was also deemed special by Hwa's castle. 

“I would feel less threatened if there wasn't a loaded gun,” Mingi said, voice strained. 

Hongjoong fixed his brother with an expectant gaze, extending his hand. “Yunho, give me the gun.”

Uncertainty clouded Yunho’s expression. A bead of sweat traced a wet path down his throat as he shook his head, mouth tightening into a grim line. “I can’t. I don’t know what you guys are talking about, but you can’t stay here, hyung—it’s dangerous. I only came this far to bring you back, and I’m not leaving this place without you.”

So, it was Hongjoong's fault. 

“You joined the King's army because of me? Why would you do that? Are you fucking stupid?” Hongjoong snapped, anger igniting faster than Woyoung's flames. “Did you not listen to me at all? You're gonna get yourself killed for no reason!” 

Yunho’s expression morphed from wounded disbelief to simmering ire, a flush creeping up the column of his neck. “Me, killed? You’re the one with a wanted poster making rounds in Capital. This is the gratitude I receive for coming to save you?”

“Who said I required saving? I’m safer here than anywhere else.”

“That's hard to believe,” Yunho replied condescendingly. 

Didn't he read Hongjoong’s letter? He knew he had kept it vague, but he had made sure to explain as much as he could as to why he left the way he did. 

“You gotta trust me when I say this. Hwa and everyone else aren't bad people. They're only trying to help,” he stressed. 

“Trust you?” Yunho scoffed haughtily. “That proves rather difficult for me to do when all it seems you've been doing as of late is lying to me.” 

“What the fuck are you implying?” 

Yunho merely regarded him, gaze heavy and unyielding.

A cold current threaded through Hongjoong’s veins. He hoped he wasn't implying what he thought he was.He dreaded the possibility that Yunho knew more than he ought. About the curse. About the invisible and inexorable clock governing his days.

“I'm staying here,Yunho,” he reinforced with finality. 

“Hongjoong for once in your life stop being a stubborn asshole and listen to me for once!” Yunho yelled, his chest rising and falling in succession. 

“It was…pleasant to see you,” Hongjoong said coolly, “but you need to return home. You think I’m in danger, but you haven’t the faintest notion of the truth. Do us both a kindness and abandon this charade before you make matters worse.”

The way Yunho's face crumbled almost made Hongjoong stumble over himself to take back the words he had just said. He wanted to grab hold of his brother and make sure he was real with his own hands. To ask after Mother. To know whether the children were well.

But the tide that had been pulling at him since Yunho’s arrival swallowed him whole, anchoring him in place. His fear whispered that, despite Hongjoong’s choice to remain in the castle, Yunho had no place here.

“You heard the man,” San drawled, stepping forward to sling a casual arm over Hongjoong’s shoulder. “He stays here.”

“I’m not going anywhere until I’ve convinced you to leave with me,” Yunho declared, his voice as immovable as stone.

“Then I guess I finally get to live out my dream of throwing someone off the ship,” San said, his smile growing dangerously wider. 

There was a crackling. 

The smile slipped off of San's face when the comms bracelet around Yunho's wrist whirred to life. 

“Target sighted. The castle—Hwa’s castle—is in range. All units, prepare to engage.”

San growled, reaching for the bracelet. “Shit. Is there a tracking device in that thing?” 

“We don't have time for this,” Hongjoong said, holding San back with a firm hand on his chest. 

He had gotten distracted. They needed to be up in the air. The time that Seonghwa had graciously provided them was wasted on arguing in circles. 

Seonghwa. 

What had happened to Seonghwa? Had he been overpowered? Did something terrible happen like Wooyoung had theorized?

Hongjoong turned briskly to Wooyoung, his crimson gaze was marred with worry, his thoughts probably running along the same lines as Hongjoong’s.

“Hongjoong, what about Hwa? I think he's in trouble.”

Another burst of static hissed.

“All units commence assault. Bring down the castle.”

The Kingsmen were upon them.They were going to attack. 

“Wooyoung, we can't. We have to go!” 

Somewhere below the ship a blast exploded, rocking the floorboards underfoot. Hongjoong stumbled forward, narrowly avoiding ramming into the side table only because his fist clenched tight in the front of San’s shirt to hold him upright. 

“Fuck!” Wooyoung screamed in distress. 

The takeoff this time was different from the first. Wooyoung gave no warning when he casted out his hands and willed the hearth to expand. The swirling runes barely lit aglow before a fire caught on the logs waiting at its mouth, the flames threatened to crawl forth from how intensely it burned. The soft hum the castle had sung transformed into that of a tumultuous reverberation, the melody grating and pained, as though it was crying out. 

The castle began to lift. But even with the hurried steps and output Wooyoung was initiating, it wasn't nearly at the pace required to outmatch the threat.

“Can’t we go any faster?” Jongho asked worriedly, as he moved to anchor Wooyoung down in the center of the room. 

“I'm doing the best I can,” Wooyoung bit back over his shoulder. “I'm putting in everything I got, but I'm not absorbing enough energy.” 

“They're gonna destroy the castle if they keep at it,”Jongho yelled over the sound of another explosion hitting the bottom of the hull. 

“Hwa made the castle to endure attacks like this. We won't go down that easily if I have anythin—”

The next hit veered them off course.

For one sickening heartbeat Hongjoong went weightless, his worldview tilting violently as the castle lurched skyward and off kiltered. 

The crew inside the castle went flying.

His body slammed into San's chest with the force of the momentum, their heads knocking together so aggressively that Hongjoong's teeth punctured his bottom lip and his mouth instantly filled with the tangy taste of copper. 

He not only felt it but heard it when San’s back collided with the side of the sofa, the air bursting from his lungs in a wheeze, the cut-off groan reverberating against Hongjoong’s ear, pressed hard to his chest.

They ricocheted like hailstones against the floor, limbs hitting every surface without mercy. Hongjoong was certain that after this, at least one of them was sure to have a broken bone. 

He mentally swore when the rapid blur of the kitchen rushed toward them. If they couldn't somehow stop themselves then they were going to crash through its length. And with how cavernous the kitchen was, if bones didn’t shatter now, they surely would before reaching the far side. Hongjoong only had a second to brace himself when they tumbled through the entryway. 

He jerked, body coming to an abrupt stop midair. Watering eyes and gasping hard, he heaved in gulps against the thick arm supporting his weight. 

Hongjoong craned his neck to the image of San straining to pull them up. His other arm was wrapped around the wood of the kitchen doorframe, the knuckles of his fingers turned deathly white from how desperately he was trying to carry the weight of two full grown men. 

The ship was still on the verge of climbing higher, the entire vessel rising vertically. Hongjoong had to do his best to keep his bottom half from swinging to keep the strain off of San. 

San grunted, his arm tightening slightly around Hongjoong's ribs, squeezing him uncomfortably. “Try to hold on a little longer until Wooyoung levels us out.”

In that moment, Hongjoong disregarded every insult or slight San had ever committed against him. Under all that brute muscle and thick skull of his, he was a good guy.

“Hey,” Hongjoong leaned his head to the side, spitting the build up pool of copper from his mouth. He didn't bother wiping the saliva from his chin.“Imagine what we must look like from the outside,” he said breathlessly. “From a distance it must seem as though we’re sinking into the vast blue above, like a ship swallowed whole by the sea.”

San stared down at him, eyes flashing as he noticed the blood dripping down Hongjoong’s face.

“Shut up, or I'll drop you on the stove,” San gritted out, readjusting his slipping grasp on both Hongjoong and the doorframe. 

“Sannie, I swear to the gods, I'll owe you the greatest blowjob of your life if you don't drop me.” 

San’s fingers dug deeper into Hongjoong's side, nails pressing into his skin.

And then, blessedly, the ship began to level. Gravity shifted just in time, because the very instant San lost his grip on the frame, the vessel steadied enough that instead of being flung across the kitchen, they collapsed backwards in a graceless heap, landing hard in the living room.

Despite his aching everywhere, Hongjoong pushed himself upright to survey the damage that had been done to the inside of the castle. 

The cared for vintage furniture lay strewn in disarray. The sofa was upended, the cushions thrown haphazardly across the room. The legs of the coffee table they frequently had tea at were splintered. And there were remnants of shattered glass from the shelves glinting like fractured stars across the floorboards. 

“Is everyone alright?”

Jongho and Wooyoung remained in the center of the room, as if they hadn't moved an inch.The persian rug around them was the only sign that they hadn't, it laid singed and twisted in unnatural folds around their legs.

“Were good,” Jongho answered shakily.

Yeosang's blonde mop of hair peeked out from behind the sofa. A shallow gash traced across his cheek, but otherwise he appeared unscathed, offering only a curt nod in confirmation. 

“Where’s Yunho and Mingi?” Hongjoong's eyes darted over the furniture and broken items in the room trying to locate the two amidst the mess. 

“Up here.” 

Mingi chuckled weakly, looking down at them as he and Yunho hovered on the ceiling. “Guess who finally learned how to levitate something heavier than an apple.”

“Get down from there, idiot,” Jongho said. 

“I could… if I knew how. This was kind of a fluke.” 

San, who had been resting across the floor after their rough landing, finally got up. “Give me a second.” 

“Did they stop attacking?” Hongjoong thought aloud. He flexed his shoulder and regretted the movement instantly. 

Yep, something was definitely out of sorts. 

With a sharp tug to his dangling foot, San hauled Mingi back down, as if reclaiming a runaway balloon. Next he pulled Yunho down, albeit not at all as nicely, yanking him by the ends of his cloak harshly until he landed on top of Mingi with a thud.

“Ow.”

“Sorry Min,” San apologized monotonously. 

“There was a lull in their attacks where I was able to get distance.” Wooyoung sat crosslegged in front of the hearth. The fire was still burning fiercely, saturating the room with heat that made it feel like the interior of a sauna. He stared into the flames, brows drawn together in quiet perplexity. “I think… at some point, they simply stopped.”

“I don't know if I should take that as a good sign or a bad one,” Hongjoong replied. 

“Get away from me. Don't touch me,” Yunho barked. 

San loomed over Yunho, fingers clamped around his wrist trying to force the comms bracelet to give way. The metal refused to yield. Yunho lunged at San, desperation evident in his eyes as he tried to stop him, but San merely swatted his hands aside with effortless disdain, as though brushing away a persistent fly.

Frustrated, when his efforts appeared fruitless,San pivoted, placing Yunho’s arm in front of Mingi's face who flinched. “Take this and do the thing.” 

Mingi looked at San completely at loss as to what was currently happening. “What thing are you referring to?” 

San rolled his eyes and pointed at the bracelet. “You know. Scan it for a tracking device. Deactivate it. Make sure the Kingsmen don't follow us. Do something,” he said, voice agitated. “You're the tech guy.”

“Oh,” Mingi said with renewed vigor given the chance to do something he enjoyed. “I can do that.”

“No, you can't. You'll break it,” Yunho said gruffly, glaring down at the floor as if it was the cause for putting him into this humiliating situation. He seemed to have given up struggling seeing as he wasn't as strong as San.

“I won't break it,” Mingi countered, more confidently this time. “May I see?” he asked politely. 

Yunho shot him a weary look but obliged him. San let go of Yunho's wrist and Mingi took it gently. He rotated the bracelet peering at it attentively, probing at certain parts with the tip of his fingers. “Hmm…I’ve got the tools, and the mechanics don’t look overly complex,” he murmured. 

San smirked faintly when Yunho's lips turned down into a frown. “What’s wrong? Afraid you won’t be able to call for help?”

Yunho’s jaw worked, but he remained silent.

Hongjoong thought that there was something else troubling Yunho that he wasn't outright saying. He wanted to ask, to draw it out of him, but he knew Yunho would only shut him down. Not after the way he’d disregarded him earlier. He would have to wait. Until they were alone. Until Yunho cooled.

Mingi made a small, aborted noise in the back of his throat, accidently tugging Yunho's wrist. 

"Sorry about that," Mingi apologized quickly when Yunho shot him a deadly glare. He appeared shellshocked.

"Everything okay? You can dismantle it right?" Jongho asked. 

He cleared his throat, shoulders tensing under the attention. “Yeah, yeah. I can handle it. Thirty minutes, maybe an hour tops.”

"Get to it, then,” San said as he reset the overturned sofa to its original position and plopped down into it groaning. “I'll feel like I'll be able to breathe better when I know that they won't be able to track our every movement.”

“Yeah, okay. I'll get to it. Yep,” Mingi repeated nervously, getting to his feet. “Can you follow me?” he hesitantly asked Yunho. “I'll take you to my room to take the bracelet off and then I'll disengage the tracking mechanism in the bracelet.” 

“It's not like I have a choice, do I?” 

Mingi ducked his head. “I'm sorry.” 

Yunho only nodded, beginning to follow Mingi through the maze of furniture. 

Hongjoong should say something to his brother. Ask if he was really okay. But Hongjoong was a coward when it came to expressing his true feelings, forever falling short in that regard. 

“Mingi, make sure when you turn off the tracker to keep the communication feature functioning. I think it would work to our advantage if we kept it active.” 

“Good idea, hyung.”  

They leave. Yunho doesn't utter a word and neither does he. 

Hongjoong exhaled gravely, holding his shoulder as he wondered how he was going to figure out the extent of his injuries if they didn't have access to a doctor.  

“He's pissed off at you, you know,” Wooyoung said, supplying the obvious. 

“Yes, I figured.” 

“And he's really hurt about what you said to him,” Wooyoung added. 

“I know,” he said hotly, not caring for his crappy decisions to be thrown back in his face. “My priority right now isn't his feelings though. Right now… right now we should clean up a bit. If Seonghwa returns and sees his precious castle in disarray he will have our heads for breaking a rule and I would rather not bear witness to an angry Hwa again.” 

Wooyoung blinked, the fire from the hearth still trapped in his pupils. Then he broke out into a watery chuckle. “I suppose you're correct. He gets so fussy when he sees even a speck of dust.” 

“One time I didn't put away the dishes after dinner and he put me in time out as if I was a child,”Jongho said. 

“You are a child,” San teased. “Children need punishments when they break a rule.” 

“Am not,” Jongho countered. “And not when the punishment was the crow’s nest—in the middle of the night. It was windy up there. I almost caught a cold.” He shivered at the memory.

They set about cleaning, Hongjoong and San moving slower on account of their injuries. San masked it better, while Hongjoong faltered here and there, pausing to wince before pushing on. 

The job would have gone a lot smoother if Mingi had been present to use one of his spells to clean up the catastrophe, but his skills were needed elsewhere, leaving Hongjoong to suck it up and sweep the shattered glass from the floorboards. He had only suggested cleaning to distract the others, but for one it didn't seem to have worked.  

Hongjoong noticed Wooyoung drifting toward the window, his gaze lingering outside instead of on the task at hand. He made his way over, leaning against his broom to look out the window with him, the sky moving passed slowly before them. 

“Ten years we've been together,” Wooyoung murmured, his gaze fixed on the view. 

“That's a long time to be with someone.” 

“From the way I perceive it, ten years isn't really long at all. Humans' lives are just far too short.” 

“That it is.” He knew all too well of the limitations humans had. 

“In those ten years, the only times we’ve really ever been apart were when he had errands to run or meetings to sit through. But even then, it was never long. Always quick. I’ve… I’ve just always stayed close, like his stubborn shadow or something. Always in reach,” he sniffled, rubbing under his dry eyes. “I don’t like being too far from him, because—well, what if he needs me, you know? What if—what if I’m not there when he does?”

The anxious disquietude of Wooyoung’s voiced fears aligned with Hongjoong’s own trepidation he harbored for his family. For a celestial, he wondered if it was common to have such human attachments to those they contracted, or was it just anomalous to Wooyoung. 

It always amazed Hongjoong how he never showcased any of those attributes written about how celestials were in the past. Yes, he was a spitfire with a bold personality and got whatever he so desired, but he was also sweet, and loving, and fragile, that one couldn't help but to feel a strong desire to protect and comfort him as well. 

“We can't always be there to shield the ones we love from every little thing. If that was the case I wouldn't ever let Yunho leave the house.” Hongjoong winced slightly, his bottom lip aggravated from his talking, but Wooyoung had finally stopped looking out the window so he continued through the miniscule ache. 

“Things happen, and sometimes the ones we love get hurt, even when we try our best to prevent it. In those moments, all we can do is hope for the best—and do exactly what you’ve been doing, be there.” He hesitated, then said, “Just… be prepared when Seonghwa returns. When I left him last, he wasn’t in the best state mentally, or physically.” 

Wooyoung smiled softly, laying a hand over his heart. “I am well aware of the turbulent state Seonghwa is in. His emotions have been haywire from the start. I’ve weathered his worst before. I can handle it.”

Hongjoong studied him for a long moment, uncertain if Wooyoung’s sudden confidence stemmed from that of past experience or from trying to convince himself that Seonghwa wasn't breaking apart.

“Like I said, you know him better than I.” 

He didn't think Seonghwa would be taken down without a fight. And if somehow things were to turn gravely south he believed Wooyoung would be the first to know. He would come. He had promised. 

They went back to cleaning.

Afternoon was encroaching into the territory of twilight without any contact from Seonghwa. No one had said it aloud, but they were all beginning to worry about how long they would have to wait for the wizard to return to his castle. 

 

 

 

💫

 

 

 

Seonghwa hid in the courtyard garden, the sound of cascading footsteps ringing taut in his ears. 

His village was being attacked and he was naively cowering in a corner again, waiting. 

Waiting for what? 

For someone to save his own life that was meaningless?

Seonghwa's lips trembled, overcome with helplessness. His years of training were useless if not even the strongest of his village were taken down without so much as a fight.

And then there was that awful stench. The smell trapped in his nostrils made him want to gag. It had been bothering him for quite some time now.

More shouting and commands were being given out around him and it was all just too overwhelming. Seonghwa sank further into himself, willing his body to vanish, to dissolve into nothing. To become invisible. 

Something soft and wet touched his nose causing it to wrinkle and scrunch against the foreign object. He focused on the sensation instead and not on the stench and the drumming steps that seemed to slap against his pulse in tandem. 

With a semblance of calm he opened his eyes that were squeezed tightly shut. 

It was a feather. 

There was a barrage of them. Black feathers, clustered together like a raven’s plumage blanketing over him. 

He traced the inky plumes, following the span to the joint it was attached to. The tremendous wing quivered weakly beneath his touch. He froze as the faint movement traced along the nerves of his back, pulling like strings attached to a puppet.

They were his. 

Why did he have wings? 

There wasn’t a spell he knew that could do this, that could grant him the wings of a bird.

Panic started to bubble in the pit of his chest. Things weren't adding up. Where was he? He wasn't in the courtyard garden of Aurora. His back was pressed against a bricked fence of what looked like an abandoned playground.

He didn't understand. 

Why did he have wings? 

Where had he gone?

He peered down at himself. Dark, sticky liquid covered an expanse of feathers and ripped clothing on his person. The amount of blood was jarring. Why was he bleeding? He didn't feel any pain. He felt almost…numb. 

Seonghwa couldn't wrap his head around the mismatched events that were happening in real life and the ones being played out in his head. 

I need Wooyoung. 

The thought formed in his mind, clearing some of the fog that confused him. 

That was it. 

He must have been trapped in one of his traumatic episodes. 

But he needed Wooyoung to make sure. To help settle his mind in case it was playing tricks on him again. Wooyoung could help him differentiate and tell him everything would be alright. That he was just tired and in need of a good night's rest. 

The smell derailed his thoughts with the slight pick up of the breeze. It wasn't the smell of burned flesh that occasionally haunted his senses, making him ill for days on end, but it was close to it. 

He knew what it was now. He knew there was a body nearby. And there was no Wooyoung to help him face it.  

Seonghwa braced his palms against the rough brick, forcing air into his lungs, though every breath scraped against his insides like nails.

His instincts screamed at him to stay still. To keep his eyes shut and remain cocooned in his wings of ignorance.

He swallowed, throat bobbing painfully. 

You have to look. You have to know.

If he could identify who it was, then maybe—maybe he could anchor himself. Decide firmly whether this was another cruel echo of memory or something happening now that he could work through on his own. 

The feathered wings around him parted, tucking themselves along his back. Seonghwa followed the scent cautiously, the heels of his bare feet sinking into the muddy puddles along the ground. 

The body was closer than he would have liked it to be, only a few yards away from where he himself was hiding, camouflaged behind a thicket of bushes near the children’s swings. He stayed a safe distance away, the smell becoming unbearable for him to stomach. 

He knew at once this was no memory. Even from a distance he could discern that the cloaked figure sprawled lifeless before him was no one he had ever known in Aurora, neither a dear friend nor a kind neighbor.

Everything came crashing down upon him, like his bones were splintering under an invisible pressure. He rushed back to the brick fence, wings unfurling in half flight in his need to hurry and reach safety. 

He had done that. He had killed that Kingsman. 

And he hadn't stopped at the singular one had he? He had gone on a full rampage.

His breathing became loud and thundering as he understood the depths of his actions. Seonghwa had let himself succumb to his dark desires and let the monster inside him loose to take revenge. 

He was not innocent. He was not washed of the sins that stained his hands. Hongjoong was wrong. He was far from an angel. 

But what was he supposed to do! Let the Kingsmen kill his loved ones twice over? He had to fight back. He swore to himself and to those he laid to rest in his village that he would atone for as long as he breathed. He would not be a burden. 

Seonghwa doubled over bending at the waist, his magic clawing frantically, beating itself against the cage called his body wanting to be let out. To be used. To be useful.

Yes. Useful. 

This was the reason why he had sunken so low as to dip his hands in forbidden dark magic. Why he had remade himself into this— this aberration.

His magic, he knew, wasn't enough. And with even an inkling of dark magic in his veins he could at least stand toe to toe against the real devils that threatened his built sanctuary.

His decision was a sound one. Look at what he had done! The blood underneath his nails was proof of his power, his resolve. 

Pain splintered through his skull, his thoughts cracking apart as though his head might burst open like an egg. The darkness pressed inward, relentless, eager to spill into the world and take the reins. 

The faint voice inside of him grew, overshadowing his own. 

“I will not give in. I will not buckle underneath the weight of these stones,” he chanted through gritted teeth. He shook his head doggedly, ruffling a few feathers free from where they were attached.

The magic in his core surged again tempestuously. 

It was as though the boundaries of who he was were beginning to splinter, his identity shattering into dissonant pieces. Something inside him screamed inhumanly and used his own mouth as its vessel to unleash the horrific cry.

He couldn’t allow it. He knew all too well. The more he let it surge unchecked, the more of himself it consumed, until he could hardly tell where he ended and the darkness began. 

Seonghwa pushed and pushed against it, bracing his hands on the brick with his forehead touching the abrasive surface for leverage. Desperation drove him to bang his head against it, each strike a plea for the dark voice within to quiet. 

When he didn't sense any more jagged spikes shuddering through his core he dared to relax. He found his throat raw and his breath ragged. His exhaustion was making it difficult to hold himself together. He needed to last long enough to make it home. Seonghwa was so close, and he would not let his inability to control his magic deter him from moving forward. But he had been careless with how much noise he had been making. 

“There he is!” 

The Kingsmen had found him.

Seonghwa was in no condition to fight, let alone walk straight. He would have to somehow lead them away again before he even dared to return to the castle.

Spreading his wings, he gathered his energy and beat them once, vaulting into the sky. The updraft caught him, carrying his battered body above the treeline just as the sharp crack of gunfire split the air. 

Bullets whizzed past, biting into leaves and splintering branches around him, but he was moving far too slow. He flapped his wings against the current, trying to survey for any source of cover away from the attacks when suddenly a bullet found its mark all too soon.

The impact tore through his wing with a sickening burst of feathers, a white-hot pain lancing through his back and ribs. It was as though lightning had been driven straight into his bones. His breath caught in his throat, stolen by the shock, and his vision tunneled. The great wing convulsed violently, refusing his command, and he lost the fragile rhythm of flight.

He called upon his magic for help, to stir the wind in his favor or to change the course of his trajectory, but as fate would have it nothing came forth. Whatever that had stirred and clawed inside him with an urgency to be let out had gone dormant. 

He cursed himself inwardly for putting himself in this kind of situation. His options were thinning by the second for any chance of escape. 

A unit of Kingsmen lay below, waiting for him to fall, like hunters poised for their quarry. And Seonghwa plummeted right into the middle of them like a sacrifice on a silver platter.

He was lucky enough to have used his wings as a safety net to prevent greater damage. The ground was not kind, the surface compact and leaving him further disoriented.

The shrouded faces of the Kingsmen filled his blurred vision. 

“That wasn't hard at all. I wonder why so many were torn to shreds by this guy.” 

A shoe stomped down on his hip before he even so much as huffed out the dirt from inside his mouth, eliciting a ragged scream from Seonghwa before the same shoe kicked him over onto his front. 

“Seems docile to me.” One came forward, inches away from Seonghwa’s face, beady eyes raked over him lecherously. “Even with mud caked on his face he's still a beauty.”

“Don’t touch me,” Seonghwa sneered, slashing his wings outward to keep them at bay. The damaged one barely lifted, scraping pitifully against the dirt and mud, limp and heavy.

A man with his hood and mask removed, pulled the Kingsman back before Seonghwa's wing could strike him. He was older, gray sprinkling his hair and wisdom prominent in the lines tracing his face.

“You really want to patronize a wizard, a dark magic user at that? I don't care if he looks weak. He just murdered a whole unit on his own. Don't take him lightly. Just tie him up and let's head back to Capital.” 

“General, I still don’t see what makes him worth the King’s trouble. He already commands more witches and wizards than he knows what to do with. Why this one?” 

“Its not the King who wants him,” the general answered gruffly. 

Seonghwa's head snapped up at that, adrenaline coursing through him, shoving the pain aside. “Who is it? Tell me. Is it a woman,” he crawled forward clasping onto the bottom of the older man's cloak desperately. “Is she still hiding behind that treacherous man, doing his bidding?” 

The general stared down at him, his face blank as if it was still concealed behind a mask. Then, with a sharp and almost casual motion, he drove his knee into Seonghwa’s face. 

Head thrown back with a loud crunch, Seonghwa bit down on his lips and tried not to let out another scream. He curled in on himself, nursing his nose that let out a steady stream of blood, the liquid quickly overlaying the blood that had dried against his hands. 

Laughter filled his ears, mocking and demeaning. “General, what was it again about not patronizing the wizard?” 

“This isn’t me patronizing. This is me putting him in his place,” the general replied, as if he was training some sort of animal.

Authority, Seonghwa had long realized, could wear the mask of cruelty when convenient. 

“He should count himself fortunate he was even allowed to live. Were it up to me, he’d already be rotting with the rest of his kind.”

Something stirred inside of Seonghwa, stygian and malicious. 

“Were you there?” His voice was quiet, barely audible by the swelling in his nose. “Were you one of the ones there that day?” 

“I was there that day,” the general said measuredly. 

He reached inside his cloak, a pair of iron handcuffs materializing, glinting and cold, and in an instant rough hands descended on Seonghwa, pouncing like hungry lions on their next meal.

His arms were yanked backward, joints straining painfully as he was forced flat on the ground. He thrashed, body twisting violently to pry the weight off his back. He managed to knock one back, and as soon as he did he lashed out. 

The tear of his talons through flesh sent a dark, satisfying thrill through him he never knew he could muster.It fed into the pit of his stomach calling out for more. 

More vengeance.

More blood of those that have ever wronged him!

He went for another, his movements uncoordinated and reckless as he fought on instinct rather than precision. His elbow connected with a jaw, the hit resonating up his arm. The sound of the Kingsman yelling in agony put a sadistic grin upon his face. But when he got rid of one another took his place and the struggle felt never ending. 

Someone grabbed onto his wing and pressed down excruciatingly onto his injury.The bullet wound seared from the torment of fingers digging into the gash. He spasmed, limbs locking into place and Seonghwa momentarily felt himself lose consciousness just from the pain of it. 

That single heartbeat of stillness was all they needed. Cuffs were wrapped around his wrists, shackles were attached to his ankles, and by the time he drew in his next stuttering breath, he was bound tight.

“That day we were ordered to eradicate the whole clan of Aurora,” the general finally spoke. He had not participated in wrangling Seonghwa into submission. He only stood by like a bystander, observing as Seonghwa fought his subordinates off. “The King wanted to make sure there was no one stopping him from reaching his goal. Everyone knows how he is. The man is thorough. But thanks to her your miserable life was spared.”

He had always believed that by some cruel set up from unknown powers that his life was spared from his village's tragedy. But here this man was telling him that it was a part of a plan. His survival was no accident, but the design of that damned person's will, condemning him to endure as the sole survivor of Aurora.

The general’s eyes narrowed, not with curiosity but with the detached sharpness of a man pulling apart a puzzle piece by piece. “Wait a minute, you don’t even know why you were kept alive, do you?”

“I don't care to know,” Seonghwa said, almost detached.

The general searched his face, weighing his words for a lie. Seonghwa, at least, was telling the truth. He didn't care, not like he did in the beginning. What was the point of knowing when the outcome from the decision was already written in stone? It would not ease his neverending anguish. At least now he knew where that wretched woman was hiding.

Seonghwa decided at that moment he would kill them all if it was the last thing he did. Starting with the patronizing asshole of a general who dared to stand before him without a shred of remorse. His magic reignited, roaring to life underneath his skin at the mere prospect. 

It had been so long, and now the chance was before him. At last, he could exact retribution on those who had razed his life to ruin. He just had to bide his time for the right moment.

Sighing, the general turned to his subordinates, shooting them a signal with a curt nod. “Let’s move out. The King is waiting.”

The chains of his handcuffs were pulled above his head, lifting him partially off the ground. Seonghwa grunted from the awkward strain of his arms as they began to walk and tug him along the empty path. The metal was already cutting rings into his wrists not even a yard in. He did his best to ignore it and instead he simply just… let go.

Seonghwa did not wriggle, nor did he resist. He remained pliant as they dragged him toward the shadowed treeline beyond Maeli, flanked on either side by Kingsmen.

The trees dappled the sunlight, casting shade over the general’s features as he trailed behind bringing up the rear of the unit. He walked casually, even going so far as to pull out a box of cigarettes like this was some leisure walk and not a march with a prisoner in chains. 

“Oddly quiet aren't you?” The general remarked. Taking a stick out, he lit one up, puffing out the acrid smoke in Seonghwa’s direction. “Brings back horrid memories, doesn't it?” 

Seonghwa did not react. He stared ahead blankly even when the smoke should have made him tense and worked him up into another panic. 

He dropped his head letting it dangle and bob as he was carried over the grass and pebbles on the forest floor. The beginnings of tears started to form, pressing against his eyelids. Blinking, it took little effort for them to fall.

“This is the person she claimed would change the world someday.” He heard the general click his tongue in irritation, and then, abruptly, the march halted.

“I don’t see it.” His voice dripped with derision as he stepped closer. “All I see is a broken wizard who has met his end. I don't even think the King can get any use out of you at this point.” 

Seonghwa’s shoulders began to shake. At first it seemed like he was trembling from rage, but then the sound broke free. He started laughing, low and broken, until it climbed into something unrestrained and manic. 

The general’s jaw tightened around his cigarette. “He's done lost it.” 

The Kingsmen on either side of him stiffened, exchanging wary glances, but Seonghwa only laughed harder, tipping his head back to let the golden tears flow without restraint.

“Change the world, huh?” Seonghwa's laughter died down in his chest and something else found its way to the forefront. “Maybe I have lost it to still believe in those condemning words.”

Seonghwa would have to come up with an apology to Wooyoung and the others, but he hoped they would understand the reason for his tardiness.

“I think I've bared this long enough,” he said, inspecting the trees and the open clearing where they had stopped. “This place is far too beautiful for the likes of you, but I guess it will have to do,” he muttered aloud.

The general removed the cigarette from his mouth, blowing another puff of smoke into Seonghwa’s face. “What are you yapping on about?” 

It wouldn't be too bad if he lost control just one more time, would it? 

Seonghwa grinned, hearing the click of the handcuffs coming undone from around his wrists. “Your grave, general. Though I doubt your soul will find rest once I'm done with it.”

 

 

 

💫

 

 

 

“It's this way.” 

Yunho jumped, startled. 

He had gotten distracted momentarily by a framed painting hung on the wall. It was a depiction of a raven amongst a treasure trove of assorted jewels. It struck him as a strange choice for a corridor, though perhaps wizards were simply inclined toward peculiar tastes such as this.

It's just…he had sworn that the raven's eye was following him.

“It's creepy isn't it,” Mingi said, having stopped to look at the painting that had caught Yunho's radar. “That painting has always weirded me out. I wouldn't touch it though if I was you,” he warned. “It's enchanted, so I wouldn't get too close to it either. I've been bitten before,and let me tell you, it is not fun,” he chuckled nervously.

He had been trying to strike up useless conversation with him nonstop, and not once had Yunho unsealed his lips to reply to any of his ceaseless rambling. 

It wasn’t difficult to discern Mingi’s unease. Most people were wary in his presence, especially now that he bore the title of a Kingsman. And likely all the more so when tasked with capturing the infamous Wizard Hwa, the very man Mingi served under.

“You know I don't even think Hongjoong hyung has been on this side of the castle,” he went on to Yunho's dismay. “He tends to stay towards the rooms he's familiar with. Knowing him, I would assume he would have mapped out this whole place by now, but I think the stress and magical aspect of everything has deterred him from exploring. Which is a bummer because I really want to show him my gadgets sometime.” 

While Mingi prattled on Yunho walked past him and towards the general way he had pointed out, if only to keep the fellow moving. 

Just the mention of Hongjoong’s name pissed Yunho off all over again. To think he treated him like a hindrance when all he was trying to do was protect him from the law. Like he's always been doing ever since he joined the orphanage.

Hongjoong was a magnet for trouble, but this wasn’t something Yunho could misdirect or smother with clever distractions to mislead his superiors. Hongjoong had involved himself with someone so grand scale that even the King was after him. And Yunho was afraid that this time, he couldn't do anything to save his brother.

For whatever reason that Hongjoong failed to disclose to him, he was adamant about staying here amongst these people. He had to find out exactly why he was willing to risk so much. What was it that he needed help with that he couldn't confide in Yunho like he's done for years.

“Sorry, my room is kind of a mess right now. I haven't had the time to clean up this morning,” Mingi excused, quickly bustling around the room they entered, shoveling clothing and objects into random piles to clear a path through the clutter. 

“You can come sit here.” Mingi patted the top of a stool in front of a wide desk. “Just give me one sec. I've seem to have misplaced one of the mini screwdrivers that's gonna be small enough to get into the bracelet. I know I placed it somewhere around here.” He left Yunho to go search for it on his bed where another junk pile had formed. 

Unceremoniously, Yunho sat down onto the stool and went about observing the many gadgets that Mingi seemed to have been in the middle of working on. Scatterbrained as he seemed, Yunho was fairly impressed with what Mingi had displayed on the desk.

The lot of them appeared complicated in design, and it was hard to surmise what purposes they were intended for. If it was created by a wizard however, it had to be something amazing, right?

Harmless as it appeared, Yunho picked one up and rolled it around in his palm. It was shaped like a sphere, but felt light despite the material it was created from. A circular button laid on the top of it, spurring Yunho's curiosity to press it and see what it would do.

“Go ahead,” Mingi said from behind him. Yunho almost tossed the sphere away from himself, surprised that he had let Mingi get so close to him without realizing.

“This, you can touch,” he said, smiling, crooked and disarming, but Yunho wasn't going to buy into it… no matter how endearing he thought it was. “Here, I'll show you,” he offered when Yunho wouldn't let his curiosity win out. He took the device from Yunho and swiftly placed it on the desk after pressing the button. 

The sphere started to spin, picking up speed so fast that it shook the desk top unsettling the rest of the gadgets. Then, with a soft trilling ring, it split open along a seam Yunho hadn’t noticed was there, revealing a tiny aperture at the top. A beam of light shot upward, dazzlingly bright, forcing Yunho to instinctively shield his eyes. 

“It's alright, you can look,” Mingi urged, his voice tinged with unbridled excitement.

Peaking out from behind the sleeve of his cloak, Yunho gasped out in awe. The light had transformed, scattering into countless points that floated gently around the room. They shimmered like fireflies, tiny stars suspended in the air, drifting lazily above and spilling warmth into the corners.

A stray light floated towards him, bouncing off his shoulder and propelling into another with no clear direction of where it would go next. 

“Woah,” he breathed, because there was no other response that could be said.

“I got the idea to design this one from a coded vision we received recently. Pretty, right?” Mingi asked, watching Yunho's reaction with delight.

It was. 

But Yunho wasn't here to play with Mingi’s gadgets. He was on a personal mission. A mission that had been temporarily halted because he had to comply with getting his comms bracelet tampered with and taken off.

Not that he expected Mingi to be able to pry the bracelet off anyhow. 

“Did you find the tool you were looking for?” 

Mingi’s expression stuttered at the question before he easily smiled again. He showed Yunho the small tool tucked in his hand. “Yeah, we should probably get started before San comes knocking on the door like a mad man. He's not a very patient guy,” he chuckled.

“Aren't you going to shut that off?” Yunho said, referring to the starry device. It was still producing light from its center steadily and he didn't think he could sit there and watch it any longer without his thoughts wandering to places they shouldn't go.   

“Oh, um,” Mingi stammered, scratching his head. He looked sheepish, and Yunho sighed for he knew the answer already.

“It doesn't turn off, does it?” 

“It does shut down…after about an hour,” Mingi admitted. “But, hey look on the bright side! That's how long it will take for me to get all of this done, so might as well enjoy it!” 

Yunho begrudgingly rolled up the sleeve of his cloak and placed his arm onto the desk. “Let’s start please.”

“Wait, I need one more thing,” Mingi said. He reached for a pair of goggles he had hanging on a peg nailed into the wall. Slipping them upon his face snuggly, he finally sat down next to Yunho on the other stool present.“Okay, I'm ready,” he chirped, turning to Yunho once he settled. 

Clamping down on his lips, Yunho made the effort to remain neutral and not snort in Mingi’s face. 

He looked ridiculous.

“Okay, so, like the tracking system needs to be nullified first,” Mingi began explaining, “but I can’t interface with it without shutting down the comms array. Once I’m finished, I’ll initiate a full reboot to bring it back online.” He scooted further in, gingerly holding Yunho's wrist to get a better glance at the bracelet.

With both of them having similar frames and long limbs, their knees knocked into one another beneath the desk, despite it being larger and more spacious than the one in his and Hongjoong’s room. Mingi was far too close for Yunho’s liking, but he supposed they had to sit so near if Mingi was to work while the bracelet remained attached to his arm.

At least, that's what he kept repeating to himself so he wouldn't blush every time a puff of Mingi's breath involuntarily tickled the skin on top of his hand.

Taking up the small, screwdriver-looking tool, Mingi began twisting the miniature little screws from the panel and unfastened it, exposing the complex inside of the bracelet. Yunho tensed, nearly jerking his arm away in fear that Mingi would touch something that he wouldn't be able to see within it. But Mingi held onto his arm with a firm gentleness, as if he had known that Yunho would react in that way. Through the goggles he glanced up at him, eyes appearing larger through the twin glass. Large enough to see every detail Yunho wanted to keep hidden. 

“Don't worry, I won't touch the command sigil. I sensed it earlier from inside the bracelet the first time I looked at it. For now, I'll leave it be.”

His breath hitched. How could he have forgotten that wizards could see it. Yunho couldn't, but he was made well aware of its presence by the people who had put it there as a warning. A failsafe to keep him in line.

“I'm gonna keep going now. It might be difficult, but I'll need you to try to be as still as possible. Can you do that for me?” Mingi said, voice having lost that lit of anxiousness he had prior to when he was speaking to Yunho. His sudden seriousness reaffirmed how dire his circumstances truly were. 

“O-okay.” 

The tension in his back and shoulders kept Yunho rigid as Mingi continued to work on his tasks. All the while Mingi kept talking. Explaining every little minuscule detail that he was doing thoroughly so Yunho wasn't left out of the process.

Listening to Mingi's deep droning fill the quiet of the room, Yunho found his muscles gradually relaxing, the constant exposure changing his opinion of him in the short period. Instead of finding his rambling annoying he was actually finding it soothing, almost comforting in a sense. 

“—and the comms are back on,” Mingi announced some minutes later, far quicker than Yunho had expected him to get all that accomplished. He was quite nimble with those long thick fingers of his.

“I wired it the way Hongjoong asked. You’ll still get any one-way messages coming through, but you don’t have to worry about, you know, fumbling and sending something back by mistake. I took that part out.”

“I wouldn't do that,” he mumbled defensively, he was known to be clumsy at home, but he wasn't that accident prone. 

“Maybe,” Mingi shrugged. “It would be something I would do by accident, so I did it anyway as a precaution.” 

Yunho stared down at the bracelet and nodded. It was one less stress gone, he supposed. 

“Unfortunately, I won't be able to take off the bracelet completely without triggering the command sigil.” Strands of hair stuck out messily as Mingi slid his goggles up into his hairline. He thumbed at his cheek where lines had creased into his skin. “My magic isn't ept enough to negate the seal without triggering it.”

“It's alright,” Yunho replied. “I didn't expect you to be able to anyway.” 

Mingi visibly winced, looking dejected. “I'm sorry I can't do anything to help.” 

“Not your fault,” he muttered.

He wasn’t disappointed. That, too, was something Hongjoong had drilled into him while they were growing up, a habit he had kept in practice. Keep your optimism low and your expectations reasonable; that way, when the outcome failed to turn in your favor, it wouldn’t wound as deeply.

There was nothing else for Mingi to do. He should go and find Hongjoong then. Talk to him with a clearer head and reasoning to convince him to leave this castle behind. Yet, he couldn't get himself to lift his feet and leave.

They lapsed into silence, watching the stars around Mingi’s room. When a small dazzling one came near, Yunho plucked it out of the air, cupping it safely into his hands. The light tickled against his skin, the feeling picking up his mood if only a tad. 

It never took much time for Yunho to stew in his emotions. Originally he had a very sunny disposition and hated showcasing any type of negativity. Being in the military police and a part of the Kingsmen he had to detach that side of himself just to conform to the image the Kingdom wanted of cold ascendancy. And it was taking a toll on Yunho's soul.

“Yunho if you don't follow through with the commands on there–,” Mingi began worriedly. He could tell he had been working up the nerve to say something more about it.

“I know what it's supposed to do,” he cut in before Mingi could finish his sentence. “That's why I said you would break it if you touched it, remember? Can't have the sigil breaking now, can I?” he said, finally smiling despite everything. 

Mingi didn’t return the gesture.

“Why get it in the first place? Why join the Kingsmen,” he pressed. And Yunho couldn't understand his confusion, because he had thought his reasoning was clear. “Sorry, I know. That was dumb of me to ask,” Mingi flushed, fiddling with another gadget from his desk. This one was a far opposite from the starry sphere, long and slender in shape, peaking Yunho’s interest as well. “It's just to me, there could have been anything– any other option that you could have chosen instead of this.”

“It was the quickest way to reach Hongjoong,” he said evenly. “If I’d stayed with the military police, I never would have learned what was happening to him.” 

Thank the gods they had accepted him so easily, desperate as they were for more soldiers in the midst of war. By sheer luck, he’d been assigned to the very unit tasked with capturing Hwa and Hongjoong, spared even a second background check that might have revealed his connection to the criminal they were after. And if he hadn't been assigned, then he would have found another way to have made it happen. 

“People were talking, saying cruel things about what the Kingsmen would do if you were ever branded a criminal. Awful things I couldn’t allow to happen to Hongjoong.”

“And what were you planning to do next?”

“Find somewhere where he could hide away from the King's eyes. Maybe smuggle him over to the neighboring country. I was still working on that.” There were holes in his plan, glaring huge ones. But he figured he would work to fill in the gaps along the way. 

“He was already pissed about you being a Kingsman and said it was going to get you killed, how do you think he will take it when he finds out he was right,” Mingi said. “Those who bear the command sigil don’t get second chances, disobedience means death. I’m assuming the Kingsmen were ordered to bring back either Hwa or Hongjoong. And if they discover you’re missing from your post, you’re finished.”

Why couldn't Hongjoong and Mingi understand?

“It’s not stupid,” Yunho whispered, his fist clenching in frustration, forgetting the fragile ball of light still trapped inside. When he uncurled his fingers, it was gone, crushed to nothing in his palm. “What I’m doing isn’t stupid. If it’s for Hongjoong, then it’s not.”

“Oh, Yunho,” Mingi sighed, face softening.

“My family, my old one, they couldn't make ends meet. They decided that I would have a better chance of survival if they dropped me off in an orphanage and promised to come back for me. Pretty quickly, I learned that I was abandoned so their lives could become easier without me.” 

He had sat outside on the porch of the orphanage waiting from dawn to dusk for any sign of the familiar outlines of his parents coming up the driveway for weeks. 

“Hongjoong carried me through my sorrow. He became my family when my parents wouldn’t, and he loved me when they couldn’t. He makes sure we have what others lack, so we never feel undeserving of more. He lowers himself so we can rise a little higher. I can’t do much, but this—this is the least I can do for him.”

It wasn't stupid, that he loved his brother enough to make peace with the thought of his own death. 

“I get it,” Mingi said thoughtfully, flipping the long slender item in-between his fingers without pause. “My family didn't want me either.” 

Yunho’s eyes widened a fraction. He didn’t comment as Mingi went on. 

“Coming from a long line of strong witches and wizards, being the weakest one in the family was a stain on the bloodline…but Hwa saw something in me that my family never did. Even if I wasn’t the strongest in magic, he valued me as a person. He… he cared about me for who I was, not for what I could do.”

Yunho’s gaze lingered on him, quiet, and Mingi gave a small, almost shy smile. “I love him,” he said, blushing lightly, and Yunho could hear the love in the way Mingo spoke about Hwa.

Suddenly, Mingi scooted forward, knees vying for room in Yunho's personal space. Taking Yunho's hands in his, he looked at Yunho with unguarded honesty, letting his feelings show without pretense. “But… I wouldn’t die for him. Not because I don’t love him, but because if I did, it would destroy Hwa. Do you see what I mean? Loving someone doesn’t have to mean throwing yourself away. If one of us died, the other would carry that wound until it consumed them. And you wouldn’t want Hongjoong to suffer like that, would you?”

“I-I, then what else am I supposed to do?” It hurt where his heart shattered to a million pieces in his chest along with his resolve. “They told us after,” he muttered brokenly.

“What?” 

“They told us after they put the bracelets on what the failsafe was. I didn't know,” he confessed, swallowing down his tears. “I didn't know, it was already done before I could even contest to it.” He squeezed Mingi’s hands in his and Mingi held on to him with more pressure. “I can't turn back time. What's done is done and I will have to be okay with the outcome.”

“Why are you talking as if it's already the end?”

“You said it yourself,” Yunho said, eyebrows furrowing in confusion. “Once they find out that I betrayed them, they will activate the sigil to dispose of me. It's only a matter of when.” 

“Then we will just have to break it before then,” he said, patting Yunho's hand gently. “Hwa will be home soon and I am sure he will be able to do something to help you.” 

Could they really help him? 

“Hwa can negate the sigil?” he asked, trying not to let the budding of hope creep through to sprout in the warmth of Mingi's words. 

“He can. It's too advanced for me to do, but it's definitely a thing that Hwa would be able to do even in his sleep. Yunho, we can protect you and Hongjoong. No one has to die, and no one will take Hongjoong away from you.” Mingi squeezed his hands again and Yunho exhaled shakily as he couldn't believe that he was being told that he didn't have to lose his life. 

“If he could do this, I wouldn't even know where to start to repay you guys.”

“Repay? There's no need. We would be happy to help you Yunho. As Hwa always says, it's a wizard's obligation to help others with the magic we were gifted with. That's why we were given such a miracle in the first place.” 

Mingi let go of Yunho's hands and took up the long slender gadget again. He pointed one side of it to his neck and spoke, a high-pitched modulated voice coming out instead of Mingi's deep one. 

“Welcome to Hwa's moving castle, where arguments break out everyday, tea time is at noon, and your magical needs are met.” 

Yunho blinked at the device. “What is that?” he asked. 

“Uh, it's a voice tuner…I thought it would make you laugh,” he said, blushing with embarrassment. 

Laughter escaped him at Mingi’s embarrassment, a little shy, a little unsure, a little relieved. “Can you show me some of the other things you've made?”

Mingi perked up, surprised at the request. “Yeah, yeah of course I can!” he said, almost fumbling over himself to reach for another of his gadgets on the desk. 

Every word was followed with rapt attention as Mingi enthusiastically explained the next invention, the two of them so absorbed they didn’t notice the stars fading out of the room when the starry sphere finally turned off an hour later.

 

 

 

💫

 

 

 

Wooyoung had put up a fight, but anyone could visibly see he was exhausted, eyelids hooded, body listing to the side each time he lost the battle to keep his lids from closing every few seconds.

He had drained a lot of energy getting the castle up in the air without Seonghwa there to anchor him, and he had refused the aid of the others to help compensate for it. He was being stubborn, waiting until he knew that Seonghwa had returned home and could confirm it with his own eyes. 

But after he had lost his balance, head finally tipping over into Yeosang’s lap, his eyelids closed and didn't open again. He was out like a light, and the fire in the hearth that had gradually been losing its strength, dulled in like, turning into a drowsy flame that crackled languidly on the dwindling logs they kept feeding into it.

“Finally,” Jongho exhaled, taking a blanket from the top of the sofa cushions to drape it over Wooyoung's frame. “I was afraid I would have to knock him out to get him to sleep.” 

Night had fallen. 

They had managed to tidy most of the living room and kitchen, though the table, several cabinets, and a few shelves would have to be mended later. Yeosang had busied himself after with checking for injuries, dressing the shallow cuts San and Hongjoong bore with salves and bandages he had scavenged from the bathroom. He had done an expert job patching them up, but nothing could be done for the bruising on San's back, and they were certain now that Hongjoong was sporting a sprained shoulder. 

What was left to do now was play the neverending waiting game.

“He has a right to worry,” Yeosang signed carefully, as to not jostle the sleeping celestial in his lap. “Shouldn't Hwa have returned already?”

“He should have,” San said, scrubbing his face tiredly. “I hate sitting in the dark, not knowing what's going on.” 

Next to Wooyoung, San seemed the most worked up about Seonghwa's lack of appearance. 

“I could sneak into Maeli through the portal, have a look around to see if I can find him?” Jongho suggested.

“Absolutely not, it’s too dangerous for you to go,” Hongjoong shot down immediately. 

“He could be in trouble. He needs help. No one would put two and two together that I'm a part of Hwa's crew,” Jongho argued. “I could look around no problem.”

“But you're known by many of the people there as the boy who works for Wizard Mars. And because of that, people will assume and draw their suspicions as to why Mars shop opened around the same period that Hwa could have shown up,” San rationalized. He looked up the stairs, clicking his tongue in irritation. “Where is Mingi? We need the bracelet to get any lick of intel on what the situation is like. He said it was going to take an hour tops,” he huffed. 

“The bracelet is probably more complicated than he assumed. Give him some more time, it is military grade tech,” Hongjoong said. 

He felt some relief that Mingi was taking his sweet time, it meant that Yunho was also held up and Hongjoong could safely take off his restricting gloves without him questioning the state of his hands. 

“Or maybe your brother did something to him.”

“Excuse me?” Hongjoong said, affronted. He sat up straighter, wincing as his bandaged shoulder smarted, and fixed San with a sharp glare.

“What? Your brother was the one coming in here waving a gun around. Do you think he came in here to talk peacefully? He was clearly aiming to take one of us out.”  

“He wouldn't have shot anyone. He hates violence.” 

“He works for the King.”

“Not because he wanted to!” he defended, because more than anybody, Hongjoong knew that Yunho truly never wanted anything to do with the military police, the Kingsmen, none of it. 

“San,” Jongho said disapprovingly. “Don't cause unnecessary strife just because you're antsy and stressed. We all are. No need to take it out on others.”

San puffed his chest and Hongjoong thought that they were going to be in for it, but then he exhaled, rubbing the back of his neck with a pout. Turning to Hongjoong, he looked genuinely remorseful. “I'm sorry.” 

Mouth agaped, Hongjoong quickly recovered from his surprise to accept the apology. “Don't fret. Once you get to know Yunho for yourself you'll see that he's not like that. He's my opposite in regard to personality. He won't do anything to harm another.”

Gasping suddenly awake, Wooyoung shot upright like a rod, the blanket slipping from his shoulders to pool at his waist. His eyes glowed faintly crimson, wide and alert.

“Seonghwa, he's here,” he muttered stickly.

“He's home,” Jongho exclaimed.

“I have to go to him.” Wooyoung said urgently, fighting to untangle himself from the blanket to stand. 

Yeosang helped to untangle him from the blanket and as soon as he was free he darted from the sofa to where Seonghwa was. 

They follow him, unwilling to be left behind, rushing through the kitchen and down the basement stairs where the maroon door had settled for the night. 

All the while, Hongjoong kept repeating to himself that whatever he saw, there was nothing that he could have done. He had to protect Sunwoo, there was no way for Hongjoong to have stayed by Seonghwa’s side. It was not his fault.    

Those thoughts disintegrated when he finally saw him.                     

Seonghwa was there, in front of the door staring off in a daze. He eerily did not move, showing no reaction to them coming down the stairs as loud as they did. Even in the dim light, Hongjoong could see that he was battered to hell. 

Caked in blood and dried mud, he could scarcely make it out, but it looked as if his nose was slightly crooked, like it had been broken. One wing was tucked tight against his back, out of sight, the other was unfurled, dangling like he couldn't lift it to do so. He wondered what else could be hidden that they couldn’t see. 

“Seonghwa,” Wooyoung called out, with slow measured steps, approaching him. 

Hongjoong held his breath as Wooyoung reached up on the tips of his toes and left a light kiss on Seonghwa's lips. Seonghwa's lids fluttered at the touch, blinking rapidly as he finally seemed to come back into himself. He looked down at Wooyoung who smiled up at him with all of the fondness of the world. 

“Welcome home, Hwa.” 

“Sorry, I'm late again my love,” he muttered, sluggishly. 

“It's okay. You're here now, and that's all that matters to me,” he simply replied, taking a taloned hand to press against his cheek. “Why don't we go take a seat in the living room. You must be so tired.” Seonghwa seemed to lag, processing the words before he understood what was said, nodding his consent. 

Letting them go first, they slowly made their way back to the living room. No one spoke but Wooyoung who whispered assurances and comfort into Seonghwa's ear.

When they arrived back, Wooyoung tried to bring him to the long sofa, but Hongjoong stopped him before he could do so, watching Seonghwa's wing with a grimace.“Set him on some cushions on the floor, Woo. Sitting on the sofa won't be good on his wings.” 

With added light Hongjoong could see the cause of the limp wing. There was a hole near the bend where it looked like a bullet had gone straight through.  

“Right.”

Hurrying over, Yeosang gathered up all the cushions that he could find and laid them onto the floor along with some of the fluffier blankets, creating a big enough pallet near the hearth. Seonghwa had begun to tremble, so being near the fire was a good call.

“That dazed look he has. He’s not all the way here at the moment, I'm afraid. It's best not to ask him any questions about what happened until he's up for it,” Wooyoung instructed the others. 

“Look at all that blood. Do you think it's all his,” Jongho said,wearily. 

“No. It's not,” Hongjoong assured. The aftermath that Seonghwa had left behind in the alleyway, Hongjoong wouldn't put it past him to have done it again based on the current state he was in. 

“We need to check him out. He was shot. He could have been hit somewhere else where we can't see because of all of the feathers in the way,”Hongjoong said. “Yeosang, you were good at patching us up earlier. I think you're the only one with enough knowledge to do so.”

“Do you think he will be okay while I do it?” Yeosang asked, biting his lip worriedly, as he watched Seonghwa. “I wouldn't want him to get spooked if I touched him.”  

Wooyoung crouched down at Seonghwa's side, speaking just above a whisper. “Seonghwa, you have some really bad injuries and we need to look at some of them to make sure they aren't life threatening. Is it okay if Yeosang takes a look?” 

Just like before, his answer was delayed, managing a stiff nod with a barely there dip of his chin. Yeosang took that as his cue to get to work, flitting around the basket of medical supplies he had left in the room at his disposal. 

He should have stayed with him, Hongjoong thought, stones of guilt weighing his insides down. He knew it wasn't possible that he could have, but dammit, he should have stayed, and maybe he wouldn't have to witness Seonghwa so hollowed out and broken. 

Mingi came down the stairs with Yunho at the moment. Immediately Mingi’s face drained of all color as he saw Seonghwa.

“Hyung,” he choked out in a loud cry. “What happened to him? Did they do this?” 

Yunho didn't come any nearer, looking shaken himself, holding onto the back of Mingi's shirt to stop him from running forward. 

Seonghwa, hearing Mingi call him, turned in his direction. His eyes drifted lazily to the side pinning Yunho with his gaze, and then he was up, none of them reacting fast enough to the burst of energy that possessed him out of thin air. 

“Get your hands off of him,” he screamed. 

In a spur of wings and feathers, he lunged at Yunho, talons raised and snarling like a wild animal. He would have clawed Yunho's chest to ribbons like he did the Kingsmen in the alley if Mingi hadn't stumbled back, shielding Yunho from the attack.

Shaking off their shock, Jongho and San sprang into action, locking their arms on either side of him.

“Seonghwa, it's okay. Stop,” San gritted out, straining as Seonghwa lunged for another attempt to get at Yunho.

But Seonghwa was not listening. It was as if he had tunnel vision. 

“I will not stand by and let them hurt my beloveds. I'll kill them all! I killed all his allies that tried to take down the castle and I will kill him for ever stepping foot in my domain.” 

It was the cloak, Hongjoong put together. Yunho was still dressed in the Kingsmen’s cloak. 

“Mingi, take Yunho out of here and get rid of that cloak, quickly,” Hongjoong barked.

“No, don't touch him. Don't take him,” Seonghwa yelled frantically as Mingi dragged a stunned Yunho back up the stairs to get out of Seonghwa's sight. “Let me go. I have to go after them. He's going to hurt him. Let go,” Seonghwa cried, trying to go after the duo.

“It's okay. He won't hurt him. I promise, Seonghwa, no one will hurt Mingi,” Wooyoung tried to assuage. Seonghwa only screamed, shaking his head frivolously, ignoring Wooyoung,struggling aggressively against Jongho and San. 

“Don't try to stop me. Please, I have to get to him. I have to protect him. I have to. I have to.” 

“Seonghwa, you have to listen,” Wooyoung tried again. “You have to calm down or your magic will go out of control. You don’t want the others to get hurt, right?” 

“No, no it's too late. You tell lies,” Seonghwa snapped, swinging out his good wing, knocking Wooyoung to the floor. “Why would you do that to me,” he shouted at him. “You're being cruel. You said you would help me. Why aren't you?”

“Seonghwa, please don't say that. I want to help. Of course I want to help, just let me,” Wooyoung begged, clutching his chest like it pained him.

“Jongho,” San growled in frustration, jerking back as Seonghwa bucked against him. “I’m gonna need you to put your back into it so we can restrain him properly.”

Jongho looked sick at the idea. “I don’t want to hurt Seonghwa.”

“Then hold back your strength and you won’t hurt him,” San shot.

Apprehensive still, Jongho obeyed, shifting his grip. He slid one arm lower, wrapping around Seonghwa’s waist while the other forced his arms tight against his sides. With a single, steady motion he drew Seonghwa flush against his chest and clasped his hands just beneath his sternum, locking him in place. The movement crushed Seonghwa’s wings flat against his back, stripping them of leverage before they could batter the room apart.

Seonghwa thrashed regardless, shoulders rolling, feathers scattering, but Jongho’s hold didn’t waver. Muscles coiled and strained beneath his shirt, hidden strength turned his arms into that like bands of iron. When Jongho cinched his grip tighter, San finally stepped back, relieved to let him bear the full weight of the struggle. 

“Let me go you bastards. Let me go!” Even as Seonghwa fought like a tempest, Jongho stood rooted, ignoring his pleas. 

Little by little, the fight drained out of him, until at last he sagged into pure dead weight. Jongho sank to the floor, keeping his arms locked tight even as he cradled Seonghwa’s slack form against his chest.

“I couldn't protect them. They're gone,” Seonghwa murmured emptily, blaringly similar to what he had said previously. Hongjoong understood then that Seonghwa had reverted back to the past, reliving his old tangled memories. 

“I was useless,” he slurred, brows pulling down and eyes starting to spill gold. He hiccuped, voice hitching in his throat and then the dam broke, unleashing his grief and despair with fervor. “I couldn't help them. I'm useless. Useless. Useless.”

The cries built up in earnest. He was becoming hysterical, working himself up into a panic. And Hongjoong was afraid that he would spiral too far to be reached out of his mind if they couldn't do anything to get Seonghwa to come out of it.

“Seonghwa.” Hongjoong sank to his knees, forcing himself into Seonghwa’s line of sight, reckless enough to try what might either steady him, or push him over the edge. “You aren't useless.”

“I a-am, I'm useless,” he stammered, shaking his head. Gold dripped to the floorboards, glimmering against the cherry color wood. 

“You aren't,” he exhaled, and then he said, “What about the boy you saved?”

“Minjae?” Seonghwa sobs shook him, but he blinked through his tears, the name cutting through the haze.

“Hongjoong, no. What are you doing?” Wooyoung exclaimed with a nervous edge. 

Hongjoong held out his hand, signaling for Wooyoung to be patient. “No, not Minjae,” he corrected lightly. “Sunwoo, the boy you saved from the Kingsmen.” 

“Sunwoo?” 

Now that he had calmed, Jongho’s arms fell away, giving Seonghwa room to breathe. Hongjoong seized the moment, inching closer as Seonghwa’s taloned hand clutched the sleeve of his shirt, grounding himself in the small contact.

“Yes, do you remember? Try to. He would hate it if you didn't remember him. You made him a promise to visit him again when he became a full-fledged wizard.”  

Seonghwa sniffled, trying hard to rack his brain for the memory. “The boy I gave the flowers to. He–he's okay.” 

“He's okay. A bump on the head, but he's alright, nothing critical,” Hongjoong said gently, adding a smile to alleviate his worries. “You protected him. You protected all of us. You stopped the Kingsmen that tried to shoot down the castle, didnt you?”

“I couldn't let them hurt you all,” he shook. 

“And you didn't. We're safe because of you.” 

“Safe? I wasn't too late,” he said in disbelief, as if he couldn't believe it. He looked around himself at the other members who were present in the room making sure for himself. It squeezed Hongjoong’s heart that he had to clear his throat to stave off his own tears from welling. 

“You did well, Seonghwa. You can rest.” 

Seonghwa shook his head fervently, a look of fear evident in his eyes. “If I close my eyes they will be gone,” he muttered to himself. 

“That won't happen. We'll be right here.” 

Seonghwa’s eyes widened as if he didn't realize that he had said the words aloud. 

Hongjoong’s fingers pressed gently to Seonghwa’s cheek, stained with blood but that didn't matter to him. Seonghwa let out a small whimper at the touch, sagging into the warmth instantly. 

“I won't go anywhere. Or do you think of me a liar?” 

Seonghwa blinked at him through half-lidded eyes, trying to shake his head, but the support of Hongjoong’s palm meant it was only a subtle tilt, which he gave anyway. 

“Then I'll just rest for a little while… if that's alright, darling.”

“Of course it's alright,” he said. 

Hongjoong held his breath as Seonghwa shifted, leaning forward slowly. First his chin, then the side of his face, rested against Hongjoong’s shoulder, hesitating just a moment before nuzzling into the crook of his neck. The warmth and proximity made Hongjoong stiffen instinctively, a pulse of awareness running through him. 

A soft sigh of contentment slipped past Seonghwa’s lips, gentle and unguarded. Hongjoong’s arm curved around his waist almost on its own, fingers finding purchase to steady him. Slowly, he felt the subtle rise and fall of Seonghwa’s breathing, easing into a steady, calm rhythm that spoke of fragile trust and quiet relief.

“Is he asleep?” Wooyoung asked quietly.

He couldn't really see, but the soft puffs of air he was emitting and the steady rise and fall of his chest indicated so. “Yes, I think he's out cold.” 

"Thank goodness,” Wooyoung said with a trembling smile, then tears ran unabashed down his cheeks. “I'm so happy he's home.” 

Hongjoong hesitated for a moment, then gently he tucked a loose strand of hair behind Seonghwa’s ear. The breath he had been holding slipped out in a quiet exhale.  

“Yeah, me too.”

 

 

 

 

Notes:

So this chapter was waaaaayyyy longer then i attended it to be. I'm actually debating about making them shorter for my own peace of mind or keeping them long. What do you think?

Out of all of this I spent the longest time trying to perfect Seonghwa's headspace as he is fighting against himself and the dark magic within. I hope that he comes to realize later on that he isnt a monster and truely is the angel that hongjoong sees him as.

And Hongjoong freaking get it together and talk to your brother please!

Those who guessed that Jongho's curse had to do with strength, you guessed right. Now the only curse to reveal is San's. Have any ideas?

Make sure to leave a kudos and comment if you enjoyed! I love hearing your thoughts Atiny! 😌

Notes:

Hahaha what are your thoughts? I want to hear them in the comments 👀