Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

The House of Haeyeon burns bright against the storm.

It was a saying that encapsulated their House’s ideal of neutrality, of independence.

But beautiful ideals could never survive the harshness of reality. Especially not in the murky swamp that made up the royal court. That was a truth that Han Yoojin had accepted a long time ago, even before he’d renounced his position as heir to his younger brother and left the duchy in scornful exile.

So he felt very little shame, now, to be sitting face to face with the duke of Seseong and cousin of the current king, Sung Hyunjae, turning his back once more on his family’s proud heritage of independence.

Han Yoohyun would never have to know.

“It’s an interesting offer,” Sung Hyunjae said, leaning back gracefully in his plush velvet-lined chair, “but why on earth would I wish for the death of my dear cousin?”

Han Yoojin shot him an impatient look. If he was going to sit here and negotiate the sale of his soul to the devil, the least bit of courtesy he deserved, he thought, was to be able to do it free of false pretenses.

“Choi Sukwon isn’t up to the task of being king,” he said flatly. “The court is divided, he’s unable to rein in his subordinates, and he’s being played as a figurehead by the priests. Since the king has no heir yet, you’re next in line for the throne. So, it’s not a matter of whether you want to become king, it’s when and how. And sooner would be better than later. At this rate, the Wall will crumble.”

Sung Hyunjae maintained the subtle, unreadable smile on his face. “Oh?” He said with a mild lilt of interest. “Let’s assume that what you say is true. What would I need you for?”

“Choi Sukwon may not be leadership material, but he guards his life well. He knows most of the cards in your hand, just as you know his. The best bet at lowering his guard is to send in an unrelated third party.” He paused. “And it would be even better,” he added evenly, “if it was someone who could take the fall without linking it back to you.”

Unexpectedly, Sung Hyunjae burst into a peal of merry laughter, as if he’d said something profoundly entertaining. “Indeed,” he said humorously. “But as you’ve said, Choi Sukwon doesn’t treat his life lightly, and even if you get past his guards, he is still an elite magic user and a seasoned fighter. Do you have the confidence to kill him?”

Han Yoojin knew what the implication was. The infamous eldest son of House Haeyeon, born without a drop of mana in his veins. Without mana, he could never become even the most mediocre swordmaster or mage. For a commoner, it might be no big deal, but as a noble—as the heir to a duchy no less, tasked with defending the Wall—it was a devastating disgrace. Thank goodness, at least, that their house had his younger brother to replace him.

“I can do it,” he said, without a trace of hesitation.

Sung Hyunjae lifted an eyebrow in an elegant arch, a silent question.

“I’m not obligated to reveal my methods as part of the deal,” Han Yoojin said firmly. “All you need to know is that you don’t need to hold up your end of the bargain until I’ve succeeded. There’s no risk to you if it fails. Either way, won’t it be interesting to watch?”

At his words, a slow smile crept across Sung Hyunjae’s face. It was neither warm, nor cold—it was a smile that held no temperature at all, utterly indifferent to all it beheld. But, there was interest in it.

So, the rumors about Sung Hyunjae hadn’t been wrong. He was a man moved by curiosity.

“Indeed,” Sung Hyunjae said in a light tone, leaning back and crossing his legs leisurely. “I haven’t seen a good show in a long time.”

“In that case,” Han Yoojin said firmly, pushing a faintly glowing contract toward Sung Hyunjae, “Please make sure to purchase the best seats beforehand.”

Sung Hyunjae briefly scanned the contents of the contract, then picked up his pen and signed his name on it without a second thought. The contract rustled despite the absence of wind in the room, then split itself into two identical copies. Han Yoojin finally let out the breath that he’d been holding until now.

“But, I wonder,” Sung Hyunjae said suddenly, his keen eyes giving off the illusion that they could pierce straight through you. “Aren’t you worried that the monster you’ll create might be more terrifying than the one you’re out to kill?” That enigmatic smile still danced on his lips.

Han Yoojin’s shoulders immediately tensed again. Was this a test? But the contract had already been signed—not even Sung Hyunjae would want to shoulder the consequences of breaking a contract without good cause.

“I’m just looking out after my own benefits,” he answered, in as callous a voice as he could muster. “What does it matter to me who the king is?”

Sung Hyunjae merely raised an eyebrow, glancing down at the terms of their contract again. “Hmm, is that right?” He asked with amusement.

Han Yoojin ignored the sweat drenching his back. “… A king is meant to be feared and respected in equal measure from the start,” he amended. “It would be a problem if you weren’t at least a little scary, sir future king. Besides,” he added more quietly after a brief pause, “I saw while I was traveling through Seseong… Everyone here is living happy, peaceful lives.”

Sung Hyunjae’s piercing eyes continued to drill through him, giving no indication of whether he was pleased or displeased by the response. Just when Han Yoojin thought he might suddenly renege on the deal and rip up the contract—and Sung Hyunjae was an unpredictable enough man that it wasn’t completely out of the question—he smiled again, even more brilliantly than before.

“It seems you’ve put a good amount of thought into the casting for your show,” he said, carefully rolling up his copy of the contract with exaggeratedly elegant movements. “In that case, as an audience member, I can rest assured.”

Han Yoojin returned his bright smile with a sarcastic one. “Please do,” he said. “I wouldn’t want Your Grace to worry unduly.”

Naturally, Han Yoojin had expected some amount of material support from the duke of Seseong in undertaking this endeavor; such had been the terms of their contract. After all, assassinating a king wasn’t something you could do with just some threadbare clothing and a few pennies to your name.

But he’d expected at most the shipment of some necessary supplies, anonymously given, to a remote, dingy hideaway that couldn’t be traced back to Sung Hyunjae.

Not… this.

“I hope you understand,” Sung Hyunjae said cheerfully. “It wouldn’t do for the king’s soon-to-be killer to be seen coming in and out of Seseong, so it would be best if you stayed put.”

Han Yoojin’s fingers twitched with the impulse to slap that smile off his face, but—tsk, what could he do? He had to at least wait until his side of the contract was delivered. “What hospitable treatment,” he said dryly, studiously looking away from the bedroom’s ridiculously extravagant gold leaf-applied walls and jewel-encrusted trinkets. “Seseong needn’t have gone to such lengths. I’m scared that the hard-working taxpayers of your territory will blame me for your poor spending habits.”

“Not ‘Seseong,’ but ‘Sung Hyunjae,’” Sung Hyunjae corrected, completely unperturbed by his disrespectful tone. “And there’s no need to worry your pretty head. My pockets aren’t so shallow that I would need to burden taxpayers in order to take care of my investment.”

But my eyes hurt just looking at all of this gold, Han Yoojing thought with a silent snort. He hadn’t even seen this kind of wasteful opulence back at Haeyeon—though, with its dedication to independence, Haeyeon was nowhere near as well-connected as Seseong, whether it was in trade or in allies. And that had been even before their “well-intentioned” relatives had drained the family treasury dry.

Ah, what to do? He wanted all of it for his cute little brother even more now.

“In that case, I’m very reassured that my investor is so dependable,” he said with a saccharine smile. “Please continue to work hard to make sure that your investment doesn’t fall through.” He reached into his pockets and fished out a crumpled piece of paper, shoving it at Sung Hyunjae.

The duke of Seseong took the piece of paper and unfolded it, his eyebrows rising just a fraction as he read the list.

“Tail of a black-tailed lizard, venom of a jeweled snake, fangs of a common wyvern… What an interesting list of venoms you’re requesting.”

“Medicinal ingredients,” Han Yoojin corrected sweetly. “They’re all too mild to be poisons, don’t you think? Mild enough to be unregulated.”

“True. Certainly not potent enough to pose a threat to an elite mana-user. Separately, that is.” Sung Hyunjae chuckled quietly and pocketed the list. But instead of turning and leaving, he extended a gloved hand to Han Yoojin.

Han Yoojin looked at his outstretched hand doubtfully. “The terms of the contract stipulate that you’re the one paying for all necessary expenses,” he reminded. The cost of all of the materials combined was nothing compared to the value of even a single solid gold candelabra in this room. He couldn’t be that stingy, could he?

“I’m escorting you to dinner,” Sung Hyunjae explained naturally. “For my dear investment who’s agreed to be mine. How could I not arrange a suitable welcome?

Han Yoojin scowled. “We signed a contract. That doesn’t make me yours.”

Sung Hyunjae acted as if he hadn’t even spoken. “I had the chef prepare the meal based on what I know of your preferences when you were still in Haeyeon.” His eyes flickered to Han Yoojin inquisitively. “Do your tastes remain the same?”

Ah. So it’s another game.

“It’s been a long time,” Han Yoojin answered in a neutral tone, taking the proffered hand. “I don’t remember what my tastes used to be.”

“Three years isn’t that long.” Sung Hyunjae led him past a dizzying number of turns, each gilded hallway as luxuriously carpeted as the last.

“Maybe not to someone as advanced in his years as Your Grace,” Han Yoojin said with feigned solemnity.

The corners of Sung Hyunjae’s lips quirked. “I’ve been told that I’m young in spirit,” he said mildly.

With the duke’s apparent penchant for grandiose displays, Han Yoojin had expected to be led into some grand banquet hall with a long table that could seat hundreds, but the room he was led into was a small—though no less lavishly furnished—private drawing room with a little round table already set for two. He was escorted to one of the seats, a gentle press on his shoulder commanding him to sit. Sung Hyunjae took a seat opposite him at the little table, picking up his fork with impeccable form.

“It isn’t often that House Haeyeon graces the social events at the palace with its presence,” he began, sounding for all the world like he was just making idle conversation. “But, I remember seeing you and your brother at the solstice ball once, many years back. It seemed like you were very close.”

“There are plenty of things that children outgrow,” Han Yoojin murmured.

Sung Hyunjae’s eyes gleamed with curiosity. “Certainly, it’s not uncommon for familial bonds to become strained as one matures.” He paused. “Although, looking at the terms of the contract we signed, one can’t help but wonder if that’s truly the case here.”

Han Yoojin’s lips thinned.

“For someone who’s been cast out of your own house, you seem quite eager to secure benefits for them,” Sung Hyunjae stated.

There was no way Sung Hyunjae wouldn’t have noticed the contradiction. Of course, this had been part of the bait, too—offering a glimpse of a mystery to a man who liked nothing better—but despite having prepared himself for it, it didn’t make it much easier to swallow the sudden dryness in his throat.

“Maybe I’m not content to be a former heir who’s been cast out of my house,” Han Yoojin said coolly. “Maybe I think my brother can be incentivized to give me the respect—and wealth—I deserve, if I threaten to tie him up in accusations of regicide.”

“Maybe,” Sung Hyunjae agreed, not a twitch in the smile on his lips. He pushed the small, intricately glazed ceramic bowl in front of Han Yoojin closer. “Have you tried the bisque? The shellfish for it are freshest this time of year.”

Han Yoojin lifted the spoon to his mouth and drank. A rich, full-bodied flavor filled his mouth, offset by the crisp tanginess of tomato.

“It’s good,” he said with surprise. It wasn’t that he’d expected it to be bad, exactly. It’d just been a while since he’d thought about food in terms of taste.

“The surprise on your face wounds me a little,” Sung Hyunjae said mournfully. “I’ll have to work harder to raise my dear investment’s expectations.”

Han Yoojin shot him an unimpressed look. “If you’re going to work hard, please work hard on procuring the necessary ingredients as soon as possible.”

“Naturally, that’s a given. I must strive to do my best, after all, for the sake of such a precious investment.”

The story of Han Yoojin in Sung Hyunjae’s memory was not a particularly unique one.

The houses whose territories bordered the Wall were always preoccupied with fighting and fighting and more fighting, the desperate struggle for survival etched into their very bones. Even among those, House Haeyeon was exceptional in its solitude, rarely venturing out into the glittering world of socialites and balls.

As a house that bordered the Wall itself, House Seseong, too, rarely attended the gatherings in the castle. That and, well—Sung Hyunjae had found such things duller and duller by the year. So he’d only had occasion to meet Han Yoojin once in the years leading up to the young heir’s infamous downfall.

Sung Hyunjae had to admit, though, that just from that single occasion—he’d been dazzled.

The fact that House Haeyeon’s young heir was a weakling without mana, little better than a commoner—it was a fact that’d been widely known since his coming-of-age ceremony. Despite that, the frail, scorned young man stood protectively in front of his younger brother, as if his fragile body was capable of offering any protection from the blows—or even the gazes—of the powerful magic-users gathered in the hall.

And behind him, his younger brother, a monster whose massive reserves of power had amply demonstrated his status as an elite even before the traditional ranking test done during one’s coming-of-age. Docilely accepting that protection with a fervent, single-minded gaze. A wolf, gently holding its most beloved prey in its powerful jaws instead of swallowing it whole.

It was absurd. It was captivating.

It didn’t last long.

After news of Han Yoojin’s betrayal spread throughout the kingdom, Sung Hyunjae would sometimes idly wonder. Had the scene he’d witnessed that day been acted? Or had they simply splintered apart, as most such Houses did? Either way, when the ending of a story was so unsatisfactory, it soured the mystique of the beginning, like biting into an apple of brilliant red, only to find that the inside had already rotted. And with the ancient magic that held up the Wall deteriorating further year by year to occupy his attention, he hadn’t put much more thought into Han Yoojin.

Until now.

“Gargoyle saliva, as you requested,” Sung Hyunjae said brightly, shaking a small, glass vial filled with viscous clear liquid.

His footsteps were habitually silent, so it wasn’t until he spoke that his voice startled Han Yoojin from a concentrated trance.

“Thanks,” Han Yoojin said, voice still a little cracked from surprise as he received the vial. But when his fingers closed around the vial and pulled, Sung Hyunjae didn’t let go. With a slight frown, Han Yoojin tugged again, equally fruitlessly.

“It’s said,” Sung Hyunjae said with an easy smile, “that gargoyle saliva is nearly harmless to organic matter, although it can easily melt through metal and stone.” He allowed a bit of mana to seep into his voice as he spoke—just a little, but enough for his presence to feel vastly intimidating to anyone without that same power. “What an interesting ingredient you’ve chosen,” he enunciated, slowly and deliberately.

Han Yoojin’s eyes widened just a fraction. He held his composure stunningly well, but it was the little things that betrayed his anxiety—the twitch of his eyebrow, the stiffening of his back, the way his hand jerked instinctively around the vial. He was too immature, still, to fully suppress his body’s reflexes.

It was rather cute.

“It’s a basic principle of chemistry,” Han Yoojin said with a forced smile, “that the properties of components change after they’re mixed.”

“Hmm, true,” Sung Hyunjae hummed, pulling back his mana. At the same time, he released his grip on the vial without any warning, and the momentum had Han Yoojin tumbling backwards into his chair, his back crashing into the velvet backrest. Before Han Yoojin could right himself, Sung Hyunjae leaned forward, bracing his hand on the armrest so that his shadow swallowed Han Yoojin whole. “I’m still curious,” he murmured, “about your plan after the king is dead. How do you plan to extort your brother while rotting away in shackles in the royal prison?”

“I suppose I’ll have to rely on you to get me out,” Han Yoojin answered with a fake smile. “And please do hurry. I’m no good with pain. Who knows what I’d say in front of those scary interrogators?”

Lies.

“No need to worry. For you, I’d rush over at the first second.”

“What a relief. I’m so glad I can put my trust in Your Grace.”

Lies.

“Then, let’s talk about your brother,” Sung Hyunjae continued. “I suppose, after House Haeyeon receives the aid that’s been promised, you’ll head over and boldly claim credit?”

“Of course. Since I’m doing all this work, I intend to squeeze every penny out of my brother that I can. I deserve at least that much, don’t you think?”

Lies.

How fascinating. The deeper he dug, the more lies spilled out of Han Yoojin’s lips like sweet honey. Thin and flimsy without any substance, but with so many lies papered together, it became just as impossible to see through them.

It really was irresistible—the urge to peel away all those layers and dig him open to the core.

“Of course, that’s assuming you succeed in the first place,” Sung Hyunjae said mildly. “Even if you can concoct a poison that can fell an elite, you’ll still need a way to convince him to drink it.”

“That won’t be a problem,” Han Yoojin said without hesitation. “I can be very persuasive. As you know.” The corners of his lips lifted in a slight grin.

Sung Hyunjae raised an eyebrow. “Let me warn you in advance,” he said evenly. “The king might not have the talent to run a country, but he didn’t survive this long by being a careless fool. Plenty of others have tried and failed to win him over with temptation. Even if,” his eyes raked over the shadowy dip of milky collarbone peeking out from behind messily buttoned lapels, “you have the capital to be confident.”

“I’m not confident,” Han Yoojin answered. “I’m certain.”

“Oh?” A dangerous note crept into his voice. “May I ask where your certainty comes from?”

But Han Yoojin seemed oblivious to the warning there. “You can ask, but that doesn’t mean I’ll answer.”

“As the investor,” Sung Hyunjae said, pressing even closer, “I believe I have a right to evaluate the product beforehand to ensure its quality.”

Their faces were close enough that Sung Hyunjae could feel a warm breath ghosting over his skin, but those liquid black eyes didn’t shy away. “It’s a trade secret,” Han Yoojin said firmly. “Naturally, it’s too valuable to give away.”

“Then I’ll buy it,” Sung Hyunjae whispered. “Name your price. Anything is fine.”

“Even if I named it,” Han Yoojin said quietly, “what I want isn’t something you have the power to grant.”

Sung Hyunjae didn’t respond for a while, studying the eyes that were still fixed on his own. The length of his stare must have discomfited Han Yoojin, because after a few more seconds, he ducked his head with a faint flush on his face. But it wasn’t with the same type of nervous tension that accompanied his posturing.

Was this it, then? A glimpse, however fleeting, of the bare, uncovered “Han Yoojin”?

Sung Hyunjae pulled back slowly, straightening back up and taking a step back. Han Yoojin’s shoulders relaxed visibly as he hurried to sit upright and rearrange himself into a less compromising pose. While he was patting unhappily at his still-flushed cheeks, though, Sung Hyunjae opened his mouth again.

“I think you underestimate what I have the power to grant,” he said slowly, his usual smile slipping back onto his face. “That, for instance.” He pointed to the glass vial still in Han Yoojin’s hands. “You’ll need more than that to ensure your ‘future’ after the king is dead. All you need to do is ask.”

Han Yoojin’s expression remained dubious and wary, his fingers closing more tightly around the glass vial. Sung Hyunjae could only suppress a sigh.

But that was just as well. There was no fun in a game that ended too easily.

In the end, Han Yoojin didn’t ask.

Although he didn’t understand Sung Hyunjae’s excessive fits of generosity, he also knew better than to trust them. Sung Hyunjae was dangerous. You couldn’t be successful in a world like this and not be dangerous.

Besides, the less was revealed about his future plans, the better.

“Are you in position?” Sung Hyunjae’s distant, somewhat staticky voice sounded from the red gems in Han Yoojin’s ears.

“I am,” he responded in a low voice, eyes trained on the distant figure of the king. “And you?”

“I’ll be waiting, as promised.” Sung Hyunjae’s voice lowered into something that almost sounded gentle, but it was probably just a trick of the distorted auditory connection. “Be careful,” he said.

After that, the earrings fell silent.

Sung Hyunjae was in a completely different wing of the palace, as discussed, so the artifact was the only way for them to communicate. It wouldn’t do, after all, if Sung Hyunjae’s alibi became compromised due to some unforeseen coincidence after all of the work they’d put into managing the timing of this.

The lively chatter and music of the solstice ball swelled around him, the socialites of high society passing by him as if he were invisible. Though it wasn’t a battlefield, with all of the mana-blessed nobles gathered in one place, the invisible pressure in the room was palpable. Even the servants and guards in attendance today were selected to have stronger magic in consideration of that fact. Han Yoojin clutched the lapels of his servant’s attire and ducked his head, continuing to make himself as inconspicuous as possible in the crowd as he headed toward the exit through which Choi Sukwon had disappeared.

Choi Sukwon might be king, but he was also one of the strongest fighters in the kingdom, so it wasn’t uncommon for him to walk around without guards. What he was primarily concerned about was more insidious forms of danger—bribes, corruption, treacherous subordinates. The occasional poisoning, though the magic flowing thickly through his veins rendered him immune to most common types of toxins.

The lack of personnel around his private quarters made it easy for Han Yoojin to sneak into the empty hallway, following not the sound of the king’s silent footsteps, but the trail of his overwhelming presence. Choi Sukwon’s sharply honed senses detected him coming, of course, but that wasn’t the point.

“Your Majesty,” Han Yoojin cried weakly, pretending to stumble—well, it wasn’t really pretend. He really did stumble, his knees colliding painfully with the cold marble floor. Tsk. That annoying bastard’s floors had been carpeted, so he’d neglected to account for the fact that it would hurt like hell if he fell this way. The resulting tears that gathered in his eyes and the trembling of his voice were genuine. “Your—Your Majesty,” he repeated, “Do you still recognize me?”

Choi Sukwon’s eyebrows furrowed in concentration as he studied Han Yoojin intensely. Finally, the confusion on his face cleared up, replaced by an expression of disgust. “That brat’s older brother,” he muttered. “Even after getting kicked out, you’re still crawling around the palace?” He eyed the ill-fitting servant’s attire with disdain.

Ah, how annoying, Han Yoojin thought. It wasn’t like he made a habit of killing people who annoyed him—he wasn’t his brother, nor any of the other gleefully rampaging elites—but, just this once, he was a little glad that Choi Sukwon was already a dead man to him.

“I-I’m sorry.” He shrank back, voice quavering, scrambling backwards on his hands.

In his “haste,” he “accidentally” let a few scraps of paper fall out of his pocket, the slight draft in the hallway sufficient to blow the feather-light scraps toward Choi Sukwon’s feet. The king glanced down with disinterest—and immediately froze.

“Oh, no!” Han Yoojin cried out, pretending to be flustered. “P-Please pretend you didn’t see that, Your Majesty. Ah, no, I mean, I…”

When Choi Sukwon looked up again, his voice was laced with the closest thing to kindness that he could muster. But his eyes were dark and ravenous. “Young lord Yoojin,” he said soothingly, “It must have been difficult for you out there alone. You came here because you had some difficulties, didn’t you? Why don’t we talk a little more in my chambers?”

Han Yoojin’s eyes widened—and that, too, was genuine shock. He hadn’t imagined it’d be so easy. He’d expected at least some resistance, some skepticism—that annoying bastard, at least, would have questioned him until he was blue in the face. He had to duck his face to suppress the upwards twitching of his lips, his voice trembling from relief that was anything but feigned.

“Thank you, Your Majesty! Thank you for giving me a chance,” he said, with honest gratitude.

Thank you for paying for my Yoohyun’s meal ticket with your life.

Sung Hyunjae had been certain that, if nothing else, he understood Choi Sukwon’s nature. Choi Sukwon was a powerful warrior, but a simple man. With his power base in ruins, the kingdom in tatters, his position teetering at the edge of a cliff, Sung Hyunjae had been certain that he’d value his pathetic life above all else.

Even if Han Yoojin approached him, looking like the picture of temptation—wide eyes and flushed cheeks, a delicate frame held upright by sheer willpower, drenched in the sweet scent of honey and enigma—even then, Sung Hyunjae had been sure that Choi Sukwon would choose distrust first.

For a man used to being an apex predator, now backed miserably into a corner with his tail between his legs, the only thing that could make him salivate would be a miracle. The promise of infinite strength, the power to turn back time… something, anything that could restore his crumbling throne.

But as Sung Hyunjae listened to Choi Sukwon’s originally cold voice suddenly turn warm and soothing, he had to admit that he’d been wrong.

“Young lord Yoojin, be honest. You actually came today to bargain with me, didn’t you?” Choi Sukwon said, pretending to sound understanding. “I’ve heard of the hardships you’ve suffered these few years. There’s no need to worry. I’ll take good care of you.” His voice only came through the earrings distantly, cracked and distorted, but even so, the hunger in it was palpable.

“Ah… yes… I d-didn’t know what else to do…” There was a hiccup. Han Yoojin’s voice was projected through the earrings more clearly, unnaturally weak and feeble. There was a tremor to it that sounded genuine, and a catch in his voice that was almost an echo of a real sob. Were there tears in his eyes? Had his cheeks turned red, were his lips bitten and torn? Was this delicate wreck really the same person who’d fearlessly jumped in front of Sung Hyunjae’s moving carriage to demand his time?

How annoying, that Choi Sukwon had gotten to see this scene first. The only fitting conclusion for him was death.

“Enough. Stop crying.” Choi Sukwon had no appreciation for the finer things. In such a situation, one should encourage him to cry harder—wrapped tightly in one’s own arms. “Let me get a closer look first.”

“—Ah!” Alongside Han Yoojin’s cry of surprise, there was the rustling of fabric. “Don’t be so rough, here—” It was evident that he was struggling to keep the impatience from his voice. It had been a long time, too, since Sung Hyunjae had felt the burning itch of restlessness coursing through his veins—not from boredom, but from something much more alive.

For a while, there were no more words, only more quiet rustling, much more subdued now. Finally, Han Yoojin was the one to speak first—but he spoke in a whisper, his words too low and fast for the earrings to catch. Sung Hyunjae raised an eyebrow. Was that on purpose? Something Han Yoojin didn’t want him to hear?

Whatever it was, it made Choi Sukwon inhale sharply. “Show me,” he ordered, his voice thick with desire.

“Don’t move,” Han Yoojin murmured. “Let me touch you.”

Han Yoojin must have moved closer to him, because all of a sudden, Choi Sukwon’s heavy, ragged breathing echoed clearly in Sung Hyunjae’s ears. “This feeling,” he said hoarsely. “You…”

There was a loud crash, suddenly, the sound of wood and stone splintering to pieces. That insane bastard, had he lost control?

“—Ngh.” Han Yoojin’s low, pained groan.

An unpleasant sensation curled in the pit of Sung Hyunjae’s stomach. Irritation, anger—all sorts of emotions that had been dulled to him for a long time.

“That—That’s not all,” Han Yoojin gasped. “This, too—” A faint clink of glass, and the sloshing of liquid. Finally.

Had he been clear-minded, Choi Sukwon would never have risen to the bait of such an obvious trap. But right now, he was drunk on something—Lust? Power? It was hard to tell just through his voice. Even so, the barest sliver of caution remained.

“What is it?” He asked in a dangerous tone. But there was a hunger to it.

“You’ll find out once you drink it,” Han Yoojin said with a shaky breath.

A deadly silence. And then, “You drink first,” Choi Sukwon ordered.

Sung Hyunjae’s blood ran cold. A poison potent enough to kill an elite—there was no way for a normal human to survive it. “That’s enough,” he ordered. “Stop here, and you can still walk away.”

Han Yoojin gave no indication that he’d heard. There was the pop of a cap, and a soft gulp.

“There. That should prove that it’s safe, right? Although, you won’t see its effects on me, since I have no mana to start with.”

Sung Hyunjae cursed internally and paused the transmission of sound from his side, his mind running with bone-chilling rationality through all of his options. “Kang Soyoung,” he ordered, exiting the waiting room he’d been sequestered in. “Gather up your squad and both of the Seseong healers here at the ball. Meet me at the king’s chambers as soon as you find them. Don’t delay.”

Kang Soyoung looked at him in surprise, but she swiftly answered, “Yes, Your Grace,” and sprinted away.

Nobody stopped him on his way to the king’s quarters. Drawing unnecessary attention would only make things worse, so he forced himself to slow down to his usual poised stride. How much time until the poison took effect? He could still hear soft, steady breathing through their connection, so Han Yoojin was alive, for now. The healers could keep him stable until they managed to formulate an antidote. He had the list of ingredients, so it wouldn’t be impossible—though it was hard to say how many of those ingredients were red herrings that Han Yoojin had slipped in on purpose. Damn it. He would have to make Han Yoojin talk first, then.

There was almost nobody present in the wing of the palace that made up the king’s quarters, so he finally allowed himself to break into a sprint. It wasn’t hard to find where they’d gone—a massive hole in the wall made going through the door redundant. That must’ve been the crash he’d heard earlier. Turning the corner, he burst through the hole, and—

Choi Sukwon’s corpse greeted him, lying wide-eyed on the floor, half of his torso dissolved into unrecognizable liquid.

Han Yoojin, on the contrary, looked whole and healthy, aside from his disheveled outer jacket and the hints of bruises peeking out from underneath his clothes. He was kneeling in front of the fireplace, and his head turned at the sound of footsteps, eyes widening in shock.

“Why are you here so soon?!” He spluttered, his hand frozen in mid-air, still holding the papers he hadn’t yet had time to burn. When he came back to his senses, he immediately shoved the rest of the papers into the fireplace, but the dying flames took their time consuming them. Han Yoojin tried to shift his body to block Sung Hyunjae’s line of sight, but it was too late. He’d already gotten a thorough glimpse of the markings on the papers.

Runes. Written in a forgotten, indecipherable script— ancient magic, the stuff of legend. It was said to be able to influence minds, to act upon souls, to manipulate the very fabric of time and space.

And though the papers and ink had been doctored to look old and faded, that messy scrawl was unmistakable. It was the same handwriting that’d graced the contract Sung Hyunjae had signed.

A delighted smile crept slowly across his face. It turned out that the piece that had fallen into his hands wasn’t just a pawn, but a queen.

“You—Aren’t you worried that being here will implicate you in the king’s death?” Han Yoojin said desperately, clearly trying to redirect his attention. It was quite cute.

“Right, about that. Young lord Han Yoojin, it seems that I’ll have to detain you on suspicion of killing the king.”

“What?!” Han Yoojin stood up quickly and took a step back, but there was nowhere to run. And even if there had been, he couldn’t outrun the chains that shot forth from Sung Hyunjae’s hand and snaked around his wrists and arms. After testing the strength of the chains and finding them unyielding, he quickly gave up.

Sung Hyunjae approached him, easily fishing out the vial of gargoyle’s saliva from Han Yoojin’s inner pocket and placing it in his hands. “Here,” he said magnanimously. “Feel free to carry out your original plans. Although, you might find these chains a bit harder to melt than your standard prison fare.”

“What’s the point of this?” Han Yoojin demanded. “The royal guards would have arrested me anyway. And you can’t kill me off to silence me unless you want to incur the contract penalty…”

If Han Yoojin was really arrested on charges of regicide, then no matter how he chose to escape—whether it was by fleeing or faking his death—he would have to leave the name “Han Yoojin” behind. Somehow, the thought left a dissatisfactory taste in Sung Hyunjae’s mouth.

“You misunderstand.” Sung Hyunjae patted Han Yoojin’s cheek comfortingly. “I’m simply taking good care of my investment, as promised. I don’t make a habit of letting others take any piece of what’s mine.”

Not even a name.

Chapter Text

Han Yoojin woke with a start, cold sweat soaking his clothes. The last traces of warmth from his brother’s dying body still lingered on his skin, his nostrils burning from phantom fumes. Compared to the nightmare he’d woken from, it was the satiny sheets underneath him and the luxurious canopy before his eyes that felt more unreal.

As he scrambled to his feet in a panic, it was the soft clink of metal that finally snapped him out of his frenzy. The free end of the deceptively delicate-looking chain around his neck swung in leisurely arcs, making chaotic jingles as it swayed and knocked against itself. He took a deep breath. The carpet beneath his feet was plush and soft, and the air smelled of crisp linen. There was no danger here. He was still within the Wall. His brother wasn’t yet dead.

No, that wasn’t completely right. There was danger, but instead of deadly claws and lethal venom, it came in the form of honeyed words and a penetrating gaze. He fingered the chain gingerly, by now warmed to the same temperature as his skin. It wrapped around the base of his throat, snug but not tight, looking for all the world like nothing more than a strangely designed necklace—but he had no doubt that its purpose was to tighten and squeeze out the last bit of precious oxygen in his lungs if he ever showed signs of baring his fangs at its owner.

He cursed Sung Hyunjae under his breath.

For all the world, he couldn’t understand where his planning had gone astray. Had he overestimated how much the duke of Seseong feared being linked to the king’s untimely demise? Or… Perhaps he’d underestimated what lengths Sung Hyunjae would go to in order to sate a passing curiosity.

A knock on the door interrupted his thoughts.

“Come in,” he said, voice still hoarse from sleep.

Based on precedence, there was a fifty percent chance that it was just a servant, but Han Yoojin had never been one to put his faith in his luck. So, unsurprisingly, the one to appear was a rotten old man with a fraudulently beautiful face. The timing was suspiciously precise—how much information was transmitted through the chain?

“Good morning,” Sung Hyunjae said with a brilliant smile. Calling it morning was a stretch—the sky was still dark, not even the faintest wisp of sunlight visible on the horizon. “Did you sleep well?”

“Wonderfully,” Han Yoojin said dryly. “Until a suspicious-looking old man impersonating the duke barged into my room. I wonder what he wants at this ungodly hour?”

“Hmm,” Sung Hyunjae mused, resting his hand on his chin as he pretended to ponder. “To demand entry into your room under cover of darkness—I suppose it must be a thief after your heart.”

“Is that right? And what do you do with thieves here in Seseong?” Han Yoojin fell heavily back onto the mattress, the exhaustion of being rudely jolted out of sleep suddenly catching up to him again.

“It depends on the nature of the theft,” Sung Hyunjae said easily. “For the crime of coveting your heart, though—nothing less than death.”

“Better start writing your will, then, Your Grace.” Han Yoojin snorted.

“Your concern touches me. Luckily, I have no doubt the court will find me innocent. After all, I knocked, and was invited in.”

At the mention of court, Han Yoojin quickly sobered up. He forced his heavy eyelids open and sat upright again.

“So, when are you going to hand the king’s murderer over to the royal guard?” He probed, though he was fairly certain he knew the answer. Sung Hyunjae wouldn’t have brought him back to Seseong if he still intended to lay the blame on him. He must have decided that the little scraps of ancient magic he’d seen were worth more. Or… maybe it was a fleeting whim. It was hard to tell with Sung Hyunjae.

Sure enough, Sung Hyunjae smiled dotingly as if watching a child babble nonsense, picking up the free end of the chain and twirling it around a long, elegant finger. “That would be difficult,” he said patiently, “seeing as I don’t know who or where the king’s murderer is.”

“Uh huh.” Han Yoojin watched, transfixed, as the slack in the chain slowly disappeared, the loose end now looped around Sung Hyunjae’s hand. “And who does the royal guard suspect the killer is?”

“Judging by the wreck left behind in the king’s chambers and the state of his body, no less than an elite hunter with formidable mana,” Sung Hyunjae answered leisurely. “Likely a fighter specializing in poison magics. Possibly adept at stealth and infiltration, too.”

“… I see,” Han Yoojin said, a little speechless. “It sounds like it will be difficult for them to find the person they’re looking for.”

“With such a cunning culprit? Very. Naturally, you and I, as loyal, law-abiding subjects, can only wait with bated breath for our reliable royal guard to rid the kingdom of this frightening menace.” Sung Hyunjae paused, the chain stretched completely taut through his fingers. “That’s why, in consideration of the danger posed by the culprit, I’ve notified the guard that I’ll be handling the protection of the primary eyewitness for the case.” His voice lowered to a whisper. “That would be you.”

Han Yoojin felt his heart sink with those words. “Eyewitness?” He asked hoarsely. “That—Was my name mentioned? It will be on the record?”

Sung Hyunjar was scrutinizing him closely, but he couldn’t for the life of remember where he’d misplaced his composure. The image of an older Han Yoohyun’s still and battered body overlapped with the memory of his younger brother’s hurt, angry expression from many years ago. It wasn’t like the details of the king’s death would be broadcasted throughout the kingdom, but Han Yoohyun was, in the end, one of the three dukes of the kingdom. He would hear about it.

“Han Yoojin,” Sung Hyunjae said softly. “It’s better to establish your innocence in the case early. If it’s found out later that you were present and the fact was hidden, that will cause more complications.”

“I know,” Han Yoojin said with a shaky breath. “I know. You’re right. What you said is correct.”

“Is being named as an eyewitness a problem?”

It was ridiculous, he knew, to call it a problem. It was ridiculous that being known as a murderer would feel preferable. But, he had wanted to tell Han Yoohyun without a doubt this time—

Look, Yoohyun. I don’t need to be protected. I don’t need your protection.

Sung Hyunjae was still watching him. He needed to answer. He needed to say something.

“… Can you,” he began, mouth dry, “stop them from leaking my name? Just… for a while.”

“I can.”

Sung Hyunjae tugged the chain gently—just a light pull, easily ignored, but Han Yoojin tipped forward with all the resistance of a tree toppling in a heavy wind. He fell into a broad chest and a pair of warm, sturdy arms that seemed steady enough to support the weight of the world.

“Three months,” Sung Hyunjae murmured, lips pressed close to his ear. “With the excuse that complete secrecy is needed to avoid tipping the culprit off, I can give you three months’ time.” Before Han Yoojin had a chance to reply, though, Sung Hyunjae pulled back slightly and placed a hand under his chin, tipping it up so that he had no choice but to meet his eyes. “In exchange… what will you give me?”

For a brief moment, Han Yoojin felt as if he’d been hypnotized by those fathomless golden eyes. His lips parted wordlessly as he tried to recall what he had that he could trade with. It wasn’t that none of it was useful, but… Would it be enough, for someone like Sung Hyunjae?

“What do you want?” He croaked.

Those eyes seemed to burn with the heat of molten gold on his skin. “What a dangerous question,” Sung Hyunjae commented. The hand on his chin trailed up his face to brush the pad of a thumb over his cheek. “For now, I’ll settle for a story. The story of the purge of Haeyeon’s vassals three years ago, the year you were exiled from Haeyeon and stripped of your title.” The corner of his mouth tilted upwards. “Of course, I won’t be satisfied with the same story everyone else has heard.”

Han Yoojin’s lips quivered. Even though it was a “three years ago” that had been longer for him than for anyone else—even though all of the consequences had been of his own making—the memories of that day still stung.

“That year,” he said shakily. “I—”

“Shh.” Sung Hyunjae’s fingers pressed against his lips, the thin fabric of his gloves doing nothing to conceal the warmth of his skin. “I want to hear the story told properly. Go back to sleep, first. We’ll speak more in the morning.”

“… So you do know it’s not morning yet,” Han Yoojin grumbled, but there was no heat to it. He doubted he’d be able to sleep regardless.

“If you can’t sleep, this humble servant of yours will gladly warm your bed,” the duke of Seseong said in a light tone. Scoundrel. Bastard. Pervert.

But Han Yoojin was too tired to even offer up his habitual token complaints. And there was no denying that Sung Hyunjae really was warm, the weight of his arm wrapped around Han Yoojin’s waist firm and reassuring. Just this once, he would let it slide.

He was asleep again before he knew it.

A full night’s sleep—restful, as it rarely was these days—restored clarity to Han Yoojin’s mind. The brightness of day seemed to chase away any lingering shadows left over from the night.

Sung Hyunjae was already gone by the time he woke again, for which he was profoundly grateful. After last night’s shameful display, he badly needed those precious few minutes of solitude to compose himself and assess the damages of his meltdown.

Reflecting on it, though, aside from some dignity and self-respect, he hadn’t actually lost anything in that exchange. The events of three years ago—although they could be said to touch upon the heart of Haeyeon’s internal affairs, all of the players involved were little more than ashes buried in the ground by now. Han Yoohyun had seen to that personally. So, there wasn’t much to lose by telling Sung Hyunjae.

While he was immersed in his thoughts, the door opened again. This time, it really was just the servants, bringing in clean water and a change of clothes. He accepted their help with a measure of awkwardness—it had been over eight years since he’d last been accustomed to this type of treatment, and in principle if not in name, he was technically a captive here, not a guest.

But… it wasn’t necessarily a bad situation.

Taking into account the assassination as well as the time needed to escape from the royal prison and then lay low, he’d originally planned to be gone for a month, or even two. Yoo Meongwoo had been left with sufficient instructions and supplies to take care of Peace, and Bak Yerim would be able to assist whenever she was able to sneak out of the Haeyeon fortress. So, there was no need for him to rush to leave Seseong.

And in the end, wasn’t his ultimate goal to slow the collapse of the wall? What better position to do that from than beside the next king? Who better to put his scattered knowledge of the future to use than Sung Hyunjae?

Right. It didn’t suit him anyways, this desperate struggle to shoulder the burden of others’ lives. His life had always been a world of two, and then it had shrunk to a world of one. Something like the fate of the kingdom—that was better left to those with the talent to carry it. Those born with intelligence, or wit, or the blessing of mana.

Han Yoohyun—he only needed to worry about Han Yoohyun.

… and now Bak Yerim, and Peace. And Yoo Meongwoo. And…

“Would you like to break your fast now, my lord? His Grace is waiting for you,” one of the attendants spoke up politely, jolting him out of his thoughts. After looking around and seeing nobody else in the room, he finally remembered that “my lord” referred to him.

“Oh… yes,” he answered. His stomach rumbled as if to express its agreement.

The attendant bowed, then led him through the maze-like hallways that made up the Seseong manor. Truth be told, even after these few weeks here, he still couldn’t fully navigate these halls with ease, especially not when Sung Hyunjae was fond of dining in a different room for every meal. Today’s breakfast, apparently, was designated for the greenhouse.

“Sleeping Beauty awakens,” Sung Hyunjae commented, already seated at the small garden table, an array of little sandwiches and tea-time snacks before him. “What a shame that true love’s kiss wasn’t needed.”

“Whoever ‘Sleeping Beauty’ is, I’m sure they’d disagree,” Han Yoojin said crossly. “That would be more like eternal rest.”

Sung Hyunjae raised an eyebrow. “Do you not believe in true love, young lord Yoojin? That’s no good. I suppose I’ll have to convince you otherwise.”

“Sure, you can try. Why don’t you add that to your to-do list right after ‘world peace’?”

“This would have to come first.” He reached across the table and lifted Han Yoojin’s hand, shamelessly placing a kiss on his fingertips. “Since I would never know a day of peace until it’s resolved.”

Han Yoojin’s fingers twitched. Who was this bastard trying to sweet-talk? Like there was anyone in the country who wouldn’t be bowled over if he just flashed his wallet at them.

“Hasn’t the duke heard of putting one’s money where one’s mouth is? As I understand it, sincerity has to be backed up with concrete value,” he replied sweetly.

“If I’ve neglected to demonstrate my sincerity through something as trivial as monetary means in any way, I beg my dear investment to allow me to rectify that at once,” Sung Hyunjae answered, pretending to be chagrined.

“I could be persuaded to overlook it,” Han Yoojin allowed. “With a vintage bottle of imported Ark wine. Grade A Hanshin steak. And… truffles made from Sudam chocolate—dusted with real gold.”

A sigh of disappointment left Sung Hyunjae’s lips. “Is that all? Does my sincerity seem so cheap to you?”

Han Yoojin grit his teeth. “I also want an appointment with a tailor,” he bit out, trying to recall what rich people usually spent their money on. “The best boutique in the territory.”

“Of course. Naturally, it will be the best in the continent.” The duke of Seseong didn’t even look fazed.

“A house,” Han Yoojin finally blurted out. “No, make that a mansion.”

Sung Hyunjae’s eyes glinted dangerously, and for a second, Han Yoojin thought he’d crossed the line. But the words coming out of the duke’s mouth didn’t sound quite right.

“I could even offer you a palace, ” he said, “as long as you promise to stay in it. Safely within the confines of my territory. What do you think?” The grip on Han Yoojin’s fingers tightened, and he realized belatedly that he’d never retrieved his hand from Sung Hyunjae’s grasp. He did so now with an ungraceful jerk of his hand.

A promise—in other words, another contract? Even if the free house was tempting… the duke of Seseong was dangerous. He couldn’t make such a choice so easily. “I’ll have to think on it,” Han Yoojin said with exaggerated remorse. “Who knows if real estate values in Seseong can be relied upon?”

Bereft of its catch, Sung Hyunjae’s now empty hands laced together helplessly. “I can do nothing to demonstrate my sincerity if my investment refuses to accept it.”

… So he’d been serious about the house?

But everything in the world came with a price, even if it wasn’t necessarily a monetary one. These gifts were the reward for Sung Hyunjae’s continued interest in him. It was a demonstration that as long as he continued to stoke the duke of Seseong’s curiosity—as long as he played the part of the dancing monkey well—he could expect a certain amount of indulgence.

The dangerous thing about curiosity, of course, was that one could never be certain when it would wane. When a story would lose its flavor, when riches would cease to shine, when the next miracle would start to feel too much like all the rest. So, if he was going to dance, he had to tread carefully.

“If you stare at me so passionately, my young lord, I might begin to misunderstand,” Sung Hyunjae remarked, amusement sparkling in his eyes.

Han Yoojin didn’t pick up his thread of conversation this time. “The story you wanted to hear,” he began. “Three years ago, the purge of Haeyeon’s vassals. To be honest, there’s not much for you to gain by hearing it from me—you probably know most of the details already. It started… at least as early as when our parents died.”

It was well-known that the former duke and duchess of Haeyeon had passed away early in he and Yoohyun’s childhood. As mid-rank hunters, even during their lifetime, their influence hadn’t been large, forced to rely on the borrowed power of hired elites to defend their portion of the Wall. After their death, it became even worse.

“Our second uncle was given guardianship of us and the duchy since I was too young to succeed. They… I… Even after I came of age, they refused to pass the title to me, with the excuse that I wouldn’t be able to uphold my responsibility to defend the Wall. Which… was true.”

He paused, half-expecting Sung Hyunjae to interject with some backhandedly disdainful remark, but the duke remained silent. There was only rapt interest in his golden eyes.

“They couldn’t use that excuse with Yoohyun, of course, but they figured that even with his strength, he was still young. So they had planned to keep doing all of the things they’d been doing… Pocketing taxes, redirecting funds, filling the ministries and the guard with their own people… I couldn’t pass on such a mess to Yoohyun, so I… so I…”

“You were the whistleblower,” Sung Hyunjae concluded, his voice brimming with satisfaction, like a reader of a mystery novel who’d managed to solve the case. “The list of names and evidence sent to the king and both of the other dukes. No one was ever able to figure it out—with that amount of detail, it had to have been someone on the inside. So, it was you.”

Han Yoojin nodded slowly. “In order to get my hands on the evidence, I had to get involved.”

Embezzling, bribery, extortion… there was nothing he hadn’t done. Only when they’d been assured that he was just as mired in the filth as the rest of them had they felt safe handing over such critical information.

“All of the crimes I was exiled for,” he said, picking idly at the rim of his teacup. “They were real.”

Because, naturally, he couldn’t have left his own name off the list.

Sung Hyunjae was still studying him with rapt fascination. Not pity, not scorn—just interest.

Sung Hyunjae was just a bystander, he realized.

No matter what Han Yoojin said to him, no matter how dark the secrets that came to light, Sung Hyunjae wouldn’t feel hurt or anger or even joy from them. Nothing but curiosity.

There was something strangely cathartic about that fact—about the realization that he could finally let the secrets he’d kept buried inside for eight—three—years spill free. Not recklessly, of course—there were plenty of things that Sung Hyunjae couldn’t know—but at the very least, he wouldn’t have to look over his shoulder at every step and wonder if his next words would hurt Sung Hyunjae.

“If you had revealed your identity as the whistleblower, you could have gotten a lighter sentence,” Sung Hyunjae pointed out mildly.

Han Yoojin shook his head. “Regardless of the intent, the crimes were committed. It wouldn’t have been good for Yoohyun to succeed the title only to immediately pardon a criminal just for being his blood relative. Besides,” he added softly, “I did get a lighter sentence.”

When he’d found out the truth, Yoohyun had personally driven his sword through all of the other culprits. Some of their families, he had even purged to the ground. Exile had been little more than a slap on the hand in comparison.

Sung Hyunjae had a strange look on his face, remaining uncharacteristically silent for a while. Finally, he opened his mouth. “Young lord Yoojin,” he said slowly. “As noble as your principles are, I believe you’re laboring under a misconception. On one’s own territory, a duke is akin to a king. I could kill every servant in this manor today in cold blood, and not even the king himself—were he still alive—would say a word. Similarly, I could pardon a convict minutes away from the executioner’s blade on nothing but a whim.”

Han Yoojin bit his lip. “I know that’s what reality is like. I didn’t want Yoohyun to follow that path.”

“Then—and please pardon my bluntness—but I’m not sure that inciting him to start a massacre was the best realization of your goal.”

Han Yoojin’s mouth twitched. “I didn’t know he would do that,” he mumbled. “Before that, he was always—a very gentle kid.”

As if to mock his ignorance, Sung Hyunjae shook his head and murmured, “Only you could have thought so.”

But he hadn’t been able to rewind time far enough to undo the events of that day. And even if he’d been able to, he wasn’t sure what the better path would have been. Instead of leaving the burden of their punishment to Yoohyun, should he have carried out the trials and sentencing himself, as his final act as heir? Or maybe, it was the ideal of justice itself that had been naive. Perhaps he should have simply eliminated them all silently. He wouldn’t have been able to carry out such a thing back then, but he had the power to do so now.

“Don’t misunderstand. I’m not criticizing you for your past choices.”

Han Yoojin tilted his head up at the unexpected nearness of the voice. At some point, Sung Hyunjae had gotten up and circled the table to stand beside him. Resting a hand on the back of Han Yoojin’s chair, he bent forward so that Han Yoojin no longer needed to crane his neck quite so far to meet his eyes.

“I’m simply saying that a talk with your brother might be enlightening.”

Han Yoojin stared at him, eyebrows furrowing as he tried to figure out Sung Hyunjae’s angle. Was there something for him to gain from that? Or was it merely the idle meddling of a bored passerby?

“You can think of it as my nosiness born out of curiosity.” Sung Hyunjae’s expression was as difficult as always to parse.

“… I can’t go see Yoohyun.”

“If it’s because of the terms of your exile, there’s no reason it can’t be done outside of Haeyeon.”

“No, it’s not because of that.” Memories of a dark cavern, blood spilt on stony ground. “I can’t see him yet. Not until…”

“Until?”

“Until… I can be sure that I won’t drag him down.”

In all honesty, Han Yoojin recalled, not even he had expected for his sentence to be exile.

Being stripped of his title and name, certainly. A lifetime of servitude, maybe. Cutting off an arm or some fingers—although it was rare now, there were still some occasions where such brutal punishments were used. It wouldn’t have been out of place a choice for a treacherous member of the Haeyeon’s own blood.

But he had thought—on the basis of all of the years he’d taken care of Yoohyun, if nothing else—that he would have been allowed to stay by his brother’s side. The hurt and anger on Yoohyun’s face that day—how intensely must he have felt those emotions?

At the very least, he knew now that Yoohyun didn’t hate him. But maybe it would have been better if he did.

Han Yoojin rolled over, pressing his face into the soft down pillows. Rest, had been the imperative left to him, which was ridiculous considering that he hadn’t done anything all day. He hadn’t done anything since being dragged back here after Choi Sukwon’s death. Meanwhile, Sung Hyunjae himself was away on some errand, no doubt cleaning up the mess left behind at the royal palace some more. Was it okay to leave everything to him like that? But, that guy, if you overlooked his whimsical side, he was absurdly reliable, after all…

He must have dozed off at some point, because by the time he opened his eyes again, the sky outside had begun to turn rosy. A knock on the door was what had cut through the haze of sleep. He continued to stare at the carved wooden frame of the canopy in a daze for a few minutes. Having received no response the first time, there was another, slightly louder knock.

Who else could be so persistent? “Is there a point in knocking?” Han Yoojin exhaled. “Just come in.”

The door opened without a sound.

“Following the proper etiquette is a must,” Sung Hyunjae said, unruffled, closing the door silently behind him. “I would hate to be mistaken for a thief.” He was holding a tray in one hand, an assortment of plates and bowls and a tall, dark bottle balanced precariously atop it. Despite that, his movements were so fluid and natural that you would never worry for a second that they might fall.

“I think you might be more talented at being a butler than a duke,” Han Yoojin said sarcastically. “Why don’t you consider a career change, Your Grace?”

“If my dear investment says so, I can only strive to do my best. But, I’m afraid I can’t imagine working under anyone other than young lord Yoojin. You wouldn’t happen to have an open position, would you?”

“As it so happens, a position might just open up. You see, someone offered me a palace recently, which I’m sure would need a butler.”

Sung Hyunjae’s eyes glinted dangerously. “Such an offer is no less than you deserve. But, I’m sure there was a condition attached? Should I take this as an agreement?”

“Hmm, indeed, how troubling.” Han Yoojin sighed forlornly. “The condition is still a bit difficult for me to accept. I’m sorry, Your Grace, but it looks like your employment prospects will be uncertain for a while.”

“Young lord Yoojin,” Sung Hyunjae said softly, “Has anyone told you that you have quite a talent for dangling one’s desires right in front of one’s nose?” He lifted a section of the chain around Han Yoojin’s neck, the pad of his thumb running over the delicate metal.

“You would be the first, Your Grace,” Han Yoojin said in a saccharine voice. “It’s a pity there’s no career in such a thing, though.”

Sung Hyunjae smiled with unclear meaning. “I’m sure I could think of something.”

Han Yoojin smiled back, equally ambiguously. “I’m sure Your Grace’s thoughts should be reserved for more important matters.”

“More immediate, perhaps. But certainly not more important.” He let go of the chain, and it fell to rest against Han Yoojin’s skin once more with a gentle sway. “The immediate task, though—dinner. I can’t be said to be taking good care of my investment if I don’t ensure that he’s fed three times a day, can I?”

“I don’t need to ‘be fed,’” Han Yoojin muttered under his breath, but Sung Hyunjae only continued to level him with that unreadable smile.

Despite his protest, once arranged, the food looked irresistible. Sung Hyunjae laid out the dishes from the tray onto the table and uncorked the wine to pour into two glasses with an elegance that would put most of the maidservants and footmen in the kingdom to shame. Han Yoojin found himself ambling mindlessly toward the tantalizing aroma. Once he was seated, Sung Hyunjae took the other seat across the little table.

“Premium class beef imported from the Hanshin territory, butchered fresh today,” Sung Hyunjae explained, gesturing to a neatly cut chunk of meat arranged on a black ceramic plate. “And the wine—although it’s not imported, I can assure you that the quality is finer than anything you’ll find in Ark.”

Han Yoojin scrutinized the plate. The bite-sized chunk of meat was delicately marbled, arranged with drizzles of sauce and a sprig of some sort of herb to make an aesthetic arrangement that was almost as visually stunning as the aroma was mouthwatering. “Such a small piece?” He quipped. “I’m glad Your Grace has chosen to admit the limitations of your wallet rather than burden your taxpayers with unrealistic luxuries.”

Sung Hyunjae half-smiled indulgently. “Young lord Yoojin will have to excuse my inadequacies. In exchange, please try some of the consommé, brewed from the wild pheasants of Breaker. It wouldn’t do for you to have too many rich foods when you’re in such poor condition.”

“… I’m not in poor condition,” he refuted. He hadn’t even done anything today.

Sung Hyunjae paused. “If the young lord isn’t aware of it himself, then all the more reason to abide by what I say.”

Ignoring those enigmatic words, Han Yoojin stabbed his fork into the meat and stuffed it into his mouth. It melted almost like butter on his tongue, the richness thick enough to choke. It was unlike any kind of meat he’d ever tasted, but he had to admit that Sung Hyunjae had been right. A second bite would probably make him sick.

He picked up his glass to wash away the buttery texture on his tongue. Even without his conscious thought, the mannerisms of an heir surfaced in his movements—the proper way to arrange his fingers and lift the glass, swirling it appropriately and bringing it to his lips. Awkward. Clumsy. It felt too much like wearing a costume that didn’t fit. When Sung Hyunjae did it, though—it looked as natural as breathing.

The wine tasted—not bad, exactly, but in all honesty, he couldn’t taste much of a difference. There was an earthiness to it that might have been pleasant, but it was hard to get past the bitter, astringent flavor that masked everything else. He was about to take a second sip in case he’d missed something, but a gloved hand came to a rest atop his to stop him from bringing the glass to his lips again.

“Don’t drink too much before you eat properly,” Sung Hyunjae murmured.

Han Yoojin studied him with a furrowed brow. His other hand moved unbidden to touch his chest where his heart lay. Underneath the layers of fabric, the scars in the shape of ancient runes rested on his skin, scraping lightly against the soft cloth.

There was no way Sung Hyunjae hadn’t guessed that he had the ability to resist poison. So, did he want to see if alcohol would be affected? Or was it a test, to pry more information out of him? Although he wasn’t sure, a knee-jerk burst of defiance inside of him possessed him to pull his hand past Sung Hyunjae’s grasp and tip the rest of the cup down his throat. A trickle of wine escaped the corner of his mouth, and he wiped it away hastily.

“You…” Sung Hyunjae said, looking a little helpless, then sighed and refilled his glass—though noticeably less this time. It didn’t even reach half of the cup. Was he being treated like a child? That was even more annoying.

“Alcohol doesn’t affect me. You’ve probably guessed already, anyways,” Han Yoojin said mulishly. “There’s no need to beat around the bush. You still want something from me. What is it?”

Sung Hyunjae’s hand paused, and he set down the bottle and looked up, the minute traces of expressiveness on his face smoothing out. “I want a great deal of things,” he said evenly, “But that’s no way to begin a negotiation. If you’d been dealing with someone less kind than me, you would have been eaten alive already.”

Han Yoojin’s fingers twitched. “If I’m to call you kind, the rest of the world must be saints.”

Sung Hyunjae raised an eyebrow. “You wound me. Have I not shown enough care in our dealings?”

“You—” Han Yoojin stopped. Ignoring the duke’s idiosyncrasies, just on the basis of the exchanges they’d made, he couldn’t deny that he’d suffered no disadvantages thus far. Begrudgingly, he shut his mouth.

At his silence, Sung Hyunjae smiled. “For my quick learner, I’ll give you a hint this time. What I’d like most from you next… A demonstration of what you showed Choi Sukwon will do. You can decide what a fair trade for that is.”

Han Yoojin’s mouth tightened. As expected, Sung Hyunjae wouldn’t have overlooked it. “Didn’t you already see it?” He attempted anyways with a honey-sweet smile. “I believe you got an eyeful of the ancient runes while I was burning them.”

“I’ll certainly have to pick your mind to see what you know of those someday,” Sung Hyunjae answered indulgently. “But, Choi Sukwon is no expert in runes. Whatever drove him to abandon all caution—it was something much more immediate.”

Han Yoojin’s fingers drummed on the surface of the table in contemplation. “Don’t tell me, this is the condition for the palace you mentioned?” He remarked dryly.

“Palace? No, the condition for that is and remains that you stay in it. But I could certainly sweeten the deal. The best cooks and tailors, at your beck and call. Any amenities you desire. The most precious luxuries in the land, brought to your fingertips.” His voice softened just a fraction. “Even if the Wall were to crumble, you would never have to worry about a thing.”

What a beautiful cage he was describing.

It was tempting, really tempting. To be a bird in a cage—a kept bird never needed to worry where to rest its wings or scrape together its next meal. A kept bird didn’t have to keep an eye on the storms brewing outside its cage. All it had to do was sing.

Even if the Wall were to crumble… If Sung Hyunjae had the confidence to promise it, then he probably really could accomplish it.

Breaker will fall first.

The Wall will crumble faster than you think.

The monsters outside will grow to exceed the Houses’ current ability to handle, not only in numbers but in strength.

As long as he gave that knowledge to Sung Hyunjae, wouldn’t Sung Hyunjae be able to come up with a plan, with the whole of the kingdom’s resources at his command? And he himself could simply live that peaceful life he’d always dreamed of.

But, then what would have been the point of carving these runes into his skin?

There were things that he could not allow himself to lose a second time.

“The next time Seseong undertakes a hunting expedition outside the Wall,” he said slowly, “I want to join. That’s my condition.”

Sung Hyunjae frowned and didn’t answer immediately. It seemed like he was considering something. What was there to consider? It wasn’t a difficult condition.

“I won’t drag the party down,” Han Yoojin added. “I may not be able to fight much, but I’m familiar with how to survive outside the Wall, and I can ride a horse just fine. I won’t ask for a guarantee of my safety, either. I understand the risks I’m taking.”

Sung Hyunjae looked at him sharply. Eventually, after a long silence, he gave a curt nod. “Alright,” he said simply. “I’ll agree to that condition.”

Han Yoojin’s shoulders relaxed. He hadn’t even noticed that they’d been tensed. “It will take…” Swiftly, he calculated the time it’d been since the assassination. Five days. “Another two days before I can show you,” he said hesitantly. It wasn’t that it was impossible sooner, but the backlash would be severe. “The next hunting expedition…”

“Not to worry, it won’t leave without you. I’ll wait patiently.” Sung Hyunjae raised his glass with a smile. “To a long and fruitful collaboration between us.”

Although he wasn’t sure where the “long and fruitful” part had come from, Han Yoojin raised his own glass, too. They met with a soft clink, and then he drained its contents again, to which Sung Hyunjae raised an eyebrow.

“I’m glad the wine is to the young lord’s taste,” Sung Hyunjae said mildly.

“It is,” Han Yoojin lied. “It has… undertones.” Of what, he couldn’t for the life of him guess. “It’s—what year did you say it was from?”

“The year I was born,” Sung Hyunjae answered with a bright smile. “So I hope you’ll think of it as having tasted a little part of me.”

Han Yoojin’s fingers stilled. “Your Grace,” he said slowly. “This isn’t—your nativity wine, is it?”

“My, the young lord is sharp, as always. It’s meant as an expression of my sincerity, after all.”

“That’s—” He struggled to maintain composure in his expression. “Why would you waste it on such an insignificant thing?”

The nativity wine prepared specifically to welcome the birth of a new child of the House—there was only a limited quantity of it for each person. It was filled with blessings, a wish for the child to have a long, happy, healthy life, meant to be drunk during momentous occasions—one’s coming-of-age, one’s wedding, to celebrate the welcome of one’s own children…

“I don’t consider it insignificant,” Sung Hyunjae said softly.

The drink in Han Yoojin’s stomach suddenly felt heavy as lead. He shouldn’t—shouldn’t have treated it like a prop in his display of stubbornness. He should have treated it with the proper respect. Whatever it meant to Sung Hyunjae now, it had been brewed, he was sure, with love and hope.

Yoohyun’s nativity wine, too—their parents had prepared it with hearts full of optimism and joy for a child they’d yet to meet. Before they had truly understood what it meant to raise a child with strength far beyond their comprehension. But, even so, they had left it behind for him as a token of themselves, and Yoohyun had drunk it with a melancholy expression during his coming-of-age.

Han Yoojin’s fingers trailed back to his chest where the sigils carved there were hidden underneath his shirt. There was one to numb fear, one to nullify curses, one to neutralize the effects of poison… Tracing the sigil with his finger, he cut off its connection to the life force thrumming through his veins.

All of a sudden, the room seemed to spin, and a low heat rose to his skin. He shook his head to clear it, but that only made the spinning worse. It seemed like he’d underestimated how much he’d drunk… Or, maybe he’d overestimated his tolerance at this age.

“Young lord Yoojin? What did you do?” Sung Hyunjae’s voice was a little more distant than it should be. There was something that almost sounded like concern in it.

“Nothing,” Han Yoojin answered. He lifted the bottle and filled his wineglass again, not quite halfway. Then, he lifted the glass, careful not to spill as his hands swayed. “Your Grace. May your days be long and filled with light, may fortune… find you at every turn, may you… may you…” He couldn’t quite remember the next words to the traditional blessing.

“May you cherish, and be cherished in return,” Sung Hyunjae finished softly.

Right, that was it. He stumbled over the last words quickly and tipped the wine into his mouth again, slowly this time. There really was another flavor there, something rich but light. Spices, maybe? The bitterness still overpowered it, but the bitterness couldn’t be absent, he decided. Strangely, it had grown on him.

“I had thought,” he mumbled, “the next time I said it… would be at Yoohyun’s wedding.”

Sung Hyunjae laughed quietly. “It’s customary for the eldest to marry first.” The sound, strangely enough, came from beside Han Yoojin’s ear. Then, he felt an arm wrap around his shoulder, and the spinning of the room abated just a bit. “Here, this will wash away the taste.”

He opened his mouth obediently, and something cold and velvety was slipped past his lips. It melted on his tongue, filling his mouth with sweetness.

It was chocolate.

“Sung Hyunjae,” he murmured, fingers digging into the sleeve of the arm around his shoulders.

He heard a helpless sigh in response.

“My dear Yoojin.” The words were barely louder than a whisper. “What am I to do with you?”

Chapter Text

Sung Hyunjae found Han Yoojin the next afternoon still sitting in the dressing room that the tailors had been invited into, poring over a catalog. Drawings of gloves, ribbons, and lacy skirts filled the pages, all of which seemed to have him frowning in dissatisfaction.

“No,” he muttered to himself, “Her style is more of…” He turned another page.

“If I’d known that young lord Yoojin was fond of this type of clothing, I’d have prepared some earlier. My apologies for the oversight,” Sung Hyunjae said by way of announcing his presence.

Han Yoojin practically flung the catalog at him in surprise.

“Oh?” He caught the makeshift projectile handily. “I didn’t expect such an enthusiastic response.” He flipped the catalog open curiously, glancing at the pages that Han Yoojin had marked with a dog-eared corner. A couple of them had notes scribbled in the margins in Han Yoojin’s own handwriting— Water affinity or mana? Selkie skin? Mermaid scale? Plus a number of more illegible scrawls that not even he could decipher.

Ah, come to think of it—hadn’t Haeyeon recently taken in a young girl rumored to be an elite hunter with an affinity for ice?

Out of all of the pages, the one most thoroughly annotated and worn enough to have been longingly flipped back to several times was an illustration of a comfortable, loose tunic, simple enough in design to be practical for combat, but whimsical enough to leave room for some elegant embroidery and adornments. “It’s a good choice for a hunter,” Sun Hyunjae commented. “Though I believe there are more suitable styles for young lord Yoojin. Especially, to accentuate your waist, I would recommend—”

“Is this Your Grace’s way of expressing your disapproval of the way I’m using your funds?” Han Yoojin interrupted, his face a delicious shade of beet red.

Sung Hyunjae smiled innocently. “Why would the young lord think so? I would be happy to be considered the co-sender of all of the gifts you give from now on.”

Han Yoojin eyed him warily, no doubt trying to evaluate the sincerity of his statement. It was frustratingly irresistible, the way his fur would bristle at these trivialities, yet in the critical moments, he never hesitated to bare his throat even in front of wild beasts.

“Why didn’t you buy the tunic?” Sung Hyunjae handed the catalog back to him. The order that’d been placed had only included a set of gloves and a shawl for a young girl.

“... I don’t know her measurements,” Han Yoojin said glumly.

“Hmm,” Sung Hyunjae hummed in amusement. “And the working gloves? Should I take it that you’ve suddenly developed an interest in blacksmithing?”

“Well,” Han Yoojin said delicately, “it’s said that learning new skills is an excellent way to prevent early onset dementia. Your Grace might consider giving it a try.”

“An excellent suggestion. There are a great many skills I’ve been meaning to hone that require a partner for full effect. I don’t suppose the young lord is willing?”

“The young lord thinks that His Grace could do much better in a partner,” Han Yoojin said with a fake smile.

“His Grace disagrees,” Sung Hyunjae told him pleasantly.

“Then His Grace will simply have to find a different skill to practice.”

“A pity,” Sung Hyunjae sighed. “At this rate, my dancing will be quite rusty for the coronation ball. I’ll be the laughingstock of the kingdom.”

“A ruler should be honored to bring joy and laughter to the people,” Han Yoojin told him earnestly. “Your Grace’s humiliation will go towards a great cause.”

“If my dear investment says so,” Sung Hyunjae lamented. “At least I have the consolation gift that my dear investment is preparing to look forward to.”

Han Yoojin blinked, confusion evident in the furrow of his brow.

“Isn’t this your surprise for me?” Sung Hyunjae flashed a receipt at him, pointing to the purchase of an enchanted collar. “I’m a little hurt that you’re not satisfied with the collar I’ve already given you, but there’s no harm in variety.”

“No—That—” Han Yoojin’s face once again became a marvelous shade of crimson, his fingers flying subconsciously to the Seeker’s Chains coiled around his neck. “That’s for my pet cat,” he said weakly.

“A cat that needs fire resistant material in its collar?”

“The cats in Haeyeon,” he coughed. “Sometimes, their body temperatures run quite high.”

“Haeyeon sounds like a place of many marvels. I should like to see your pet cat very much someday. But,” Sung Hyunjae folded the receipt in half and placed it on a nearby stool, “why does it appear that none of the items purchased were actually for yourself?”

“… It sounds like you’re determined to doubt my interest in blacksmithing,” Han Yoojin said with resignation.

Sung Hyunjae smiled helplessly. “Since the tailors missed the opportunity to get your measurements, you’ll have to allow me to do the honors. Your equipment for the field expedition still needs to be fitted to you.”

“Equipment? That’s not necessary. I can just throw on anything,” he dismissed.

Because it wouldn’t matter anyways.

The other half of the sentence hung in the air unspoken between them. There was no doubt that any stray attack from a proper monster could crush him in a heartbeat, and there was only so much that armor could do.

It was only through decades of experience that Sung Hyunjae was able to maintain the smile on his face, though not even he could prevent it from becoming a few degrees colder. 

“Han Yoojin,” he said softly. “It already tests the limits of my tolerance to bring you outside the Wall. You’ll either come fully equipped, or not at all.”

Han Yoojin’s lips pressed together into a stubborn line, but he would recognize that there was no practical reason for him to refuse. “Fine,” he said, folding his arms. “Since the oh-so-generous duke of Seseong is footing the bill, I can only graciously accept.”

“That’s the spirit,” Sung Hyunjae agreed. “There’s a set of gryphonskin armor that can be tailored down to your size for tomorrow. In the meantime, I’ll send in the order for a dragonhide set to be made for you.”

Han Yoojin’s eyes nearly popped out of his head at the mention of the materials. “That’s really too much of a waste,” he argued. “One set is more than enough.”

“It would be best if it was a waste. I have no intention of letting the armor be put to use while you’re by my side. Please excuse me.”

Reaching out, Sung Hyunjae smoothed out the edges of Han Yoojin’s loose overshirt before lifting it upward. He raised his arms to allow the overshirt to be pulled over his head, leaving his hair a tousled mess.

“You’re not actually doing the measuring yourself, are you?” Han Yoojin asked, dumbfounded.

Sung Hyunjae smiled at him patiently in reply.

When he reached for the bottom of the thin undershirt, though, Han Yoojin suddenly reacted, clutching the hem so that it couldn’t be pulled above his waist.

“Your Grace,” he said breathlessly. “This—This should be enough, right?” His hands gripped at the cloth, a blush rising to his cheeks as he averted his eyes, making him look for all the world like a demure maiden defending her chastity. It was so endearing that Sung Hyunjae refrained from shattering the illusion that his miniscule strength actually amounted to anything.

“Since they’re outer garments, this is fine,” Sung Hyunjae allowed, letting go.

Han Yoojin let out a breath of relief, apparently oblivious to the fact that the faintest outline of dark swirls and lines on his chest was visible through the thin fabric of his undershirt. Tattoos, perhaps? He would have to find an occasion to strip Han Yoojin bare another time.

“Hold still,” he murmured, a second before the Seeker’s Chains came alive at his command, all but one coil unraveling from Han Yoojin’s neck and returning to his hand. The last coil tightened until it hugged his throat, and Sung Hyunjae noted the measurement with a gleam in his eye before letting the chain fall slack.

“… Fraud,” Han Yoojin exhaled when the metal left his skin. “How can you measure with that? There are no length indicators.”

“It’s an extension of myself. Of course I can measure with it. Lift your arms.” He patted Han Yoojin’s elbow, letting it rest in his palm as the chain slithered around his upper chest, cinching the loose fabric of his shirt.

“… You’re not even writing anything down,” Han Yoojin accused.

“Back straight.” Sung Hyunjae lifted the hem of the undershirt just high enough to expose an expanse of soft, pale belly, giving the chain access to wrap around his waist. “My memory is adequate, but if the young lord insists, I can certainly write them down.” He picked up the pen that Han Yoojin had discarded on the ground earlier and scratched the metal tip lightly across the unmarked skin in front of him, leaving cold ink in its wake.

“Wa—ah! That tickles!” Han Yoojin jerked his hips instinctively, but the length of metal around his waist kept him in place. He smacked the pen away with his hand, smearing the ink on his skin. “Ugh, fine, I believe you. Get on with it, then.”

“The sleeve measurements next,” Sung Hyunjae continued cheerfully. He rolled up the loose sleeves of Han Yoojin’s shirt past his shoulder, and the Seeker’s Chains snaked around one arm, then the other. Giving in to his curiosity, Sung Hyunjae reached out and cupped the exposed upper arm in his hand, squeezing it lightly. The cool, smooth flesh was soft and springy to the touch.

Immediately, Han Yoojin snatched his arm back, face a little red. “Listen,” he said, “I used to have muscles, too.”

 “… I see,” Sung Hyunjae answered blankly, caught off-guard by the sudden topic change for what might have been the first time in his life.

“Really,” Han Yoojin insisted. “I could lift a person easily, you know? …Even without mana! I could have lifted you!”

A quiet laugh escaped Sung Hyunjae’s lips. “Of course, I believe you,” he promised solemnly. “My dear investment is so strong.”

But that only seemed to aggravate Han Yoojin more. His eyes narrowed, and his mouth curled in displeasure. “Don’t laugh,” he said bitterly. “It might not sound like much, but it was a lot, for me.”

Ah.

“I’m sorry,” Sung Hyunjae apologized immediately. “I wasn’t laughing at you. It was because you’re so cute.” He ran his fingers through the ruffled bangs in front of Han Yoojin’s narrowed eyes, tucking them behind his ears. “I know,” he said softly, “that you’ve traveled a long way, carrying a heavy burden. You’ve worked hard.”

Han Yoojin’s eyes flickered away in discomfort. “… You can’t know that,” he mumbled.

“I can. I do know.”

Slowly, Han Yoojin lifted his eyes to meet Sung Hyunjae’s again, and the resistance drained out of his shoulders. “Just get it on with,” he muttered, the tips of his ears reddening. “What next?”

“Pants,” Sung Hyunjae said simply.

Han Yoojin looked at him with despair. “Do I have to?”

“If you want the equipment to fit, yes.”

His hands gripped the waistband of his pants anxiously. “Don’t laugh,” he warned. “Really. Don’t laugh.”

“I won’t laugh.”

With a sigh, his fingers loosened, letting the cloth fall to the ground in a limp pile.

Sung Hyunjae hummed consideringly. “My dear Yoojin,” he said. “How is it that you’re perfect everywhere?”

Han Yoojin groaned and buried his face in his fingers. “Don’t say that, either. It’s even worse.”

“What should I say, then?” The Seeker’s Chains began to move with renewed life, smoothly resuming its duties while Han Yoojin was distracted. “Hmm—Then, are you accepting job applications for the position of personal tailor? I think, after this, if anyone else were to take your measurements, I would be insanely jealous.”

“In the first place, the tailor’s guild wouldn’t accept such an unorthodox member who doesn’t even use the right—a, ah, that’s cold—” He shivered as the chains slid between his thighs, fingers curling around Sung Hyunjae’s shoulder.

Sung Hyunjae’s eyes sparkled with amusement. “The metal is still warm,” he pointed out.

“Your Grace,” Han Yoojin said through gritted teeth, “Have you never heard of a principle called ‘the customer is always right’? This is why you’ll never make it in… in the—service industry—”

“Then it looks like I’ll have to rely on my Yoojin’s guidance in that area as well.”

“Who’s yours—”

“Last measurement. I promise.”

Han Yoojin stood stock-still, entire body tensed as the metal threaded down to his ankles, looping around them in a lazy detour before clattering to the ground and shooting back into Sung Hyunjae’s waiting hand. It wasn’t until a few seconds later that his muscles loosened one by one, the entire weight of his body collapsing into Sung Hyunjae’s expectant arms. Slowly, his ragged breathing regained its normal rhythm, and when he lifted his head again, it was to fix Sung Hyunjae with a baleful glare that sent a thrill down his spine.

Han Yoojin ground his teeth for a few minutes. “Your Grace,” he finally bit out. “As you know, I have a pet cat—”

“One I should like very much to meet,” Sung Hyunjae added.

He was ignored. “My pet cat, you see, will act up ferociously and make a terrible nuisance of itself when it’s bored,” Han Yoojin continued. “I can’t help but be reminded of my pet cat when I see Your Grace.”

“Is that an offer to cure me of my boredom?”

Liquid black eyes bore into him, sharp and keen in a way that had nothing to do with magic or skills.

“No matter how I think about it,” Han Yoojin murmured, almost to himself, “it’s such a waste to use that ability inside the Wall. I wonder…” The corners of his mouth crept upwards in a smile that was brimming with danger. “Does Your Grace want to see— really see—the kind of ability that a king would die for?”

Sung Hyunjae held his gaze. “Han Yoojin,” he said mildly. “Are you asking me to stake my life on you?”

Han Yoojin’s smile didn’t falter. “I would hate to find out that the duke of Seseong’s courage doesn’t even match up to the late His Majesty.”

Although his bravado was convincing, Han Yoojin’s fingers continued to dig into Sung Hyunjae’s skin with an urgency that betrayed his anxiety. But it wasn’t empty posturing, either. Choi Sukwon’s death had been no accident, and outside of the Wall—anything could happen.

Once Han Yoojin learned how to play this game properly… how far could he go?

It was thoughts like this that made it impossible to look away from him.

But in truth, Sung Hyunjae understood very well that curiosity and danger were two sides of the same blade, and he walked its razor edge with an irreverence that would have already cut most people to pieces. There had never been a point in his life before where interest and trust had intersected.

And yet.

Sung Hyunjae felt his lips tug in a responding smile that was anything but feigned.

“Then, my dear Yoojin,” he answered, “Please remember that I’m leaving my heart in your hands.”

The journey from the manor to the Seseong fortress took over half a day, and the trip from the fortress to the wall would be another hour on horseback, so it wasn’t until the morning after that the expedition party formally assembled before the Wall. That the manor was distinct from the fortress as a base of operations at all was a trait unique to Seseong thanks to the surplus of elite-ranked hunters that it maintained, allowing a portion of them to be stationed at the fortress while Sung Hyunjae himself spent most of his time elsewhere.

Today, though, he’d come with a purpose in mind. Kang Soyoung and her squad were already waiting at the gate beside their horses when he arrived with Han Yoojin.

Although their greeting bows were flawless in form, their restraint didn’t last long enough to prevent their eyes from drifting uncontrollably toward Han Yoojin afterwards—especially, to the length of chain coiled docilely around his left arm.

It might have resembled a simple chain link bracer to the unobservant, but there was nobody in the Seseong guard who wouldn’t recognize the Seeker’s Chains at a glance. Kang Soyoung’s gaze, in particular, flitted from Han Yoojin, to the Seeker’s Chains, to Sung Hyunjae, and back again in a loop so fast that he half-expected her to faint from dizziness. Han Yoojin, though, only met their blatant stares with a stiff, awkward smile before sliding his eyes away pointedly and ignoring their presence.

Interesting.

“Kang Soyoung. Take your squad and do a full sweep of the perimeter of the wall. Young lord Yoojin and I will be investigating the anomaly reported by the scouts,” Sung Hyunjae ordered.

“You will, Your Grace?” Kang Soyoung asked in surprise, glancing at Han Yoojin. “But isn’t he…” She immediately shut her mouth at Sung Hyunjae’s pointed look. “Er, I mean, yes, understood, Your Grace!”

Han Yoojin watched them disappear beyond the gate with a disapproving expression. “Your Grace, that was your support party,” he said unhappily.

“They’ll be fine. Kang Soyoung alone is more than enough to handle anything lurking on the perimeter, and she can call Evelyn Miller for backup if she runs into trouble.”

“Which leaves you without support.”

Sung Hyunjae raised an eyebrow. “Do you think I need a support team?”

Han Yoojin met his gaze with a furrowed brow for a few moments, then snorted and shook his head. “How silly of me,” he remarked dryly. “I forgot I was speaking to the great Sung Hyunjae.”

Sung Hyunjae smiled. “What matters is that you remembered.”

The stallion they’d chosen was a large one that could easily handle both their weights. Han Yoojin climbed onto the saddle first, and Sung Hyunjae jumped atop it after him.

“It just requires physical contact?” He confirmed, sliding his arm around the slim waist in front of him.

“That’s right,” Han Yoojin answered. “So don’t let go, not even for a second.”

“I can’t imagine that being a chore,” Sung Hyunjae remarked teasingly.

Han Yoojin ignored him. “You really are confident in your control, right?” He asked, not for the first time.

“Has young lord Yoojin not taken my words to heart all this time? You wound me so.”

“Excuse me for wanting to double-check,” he said, disgruntled. “With a front-row seat like this, if Your Grace gets a little overexcited, I’d get turned into a lump of coal even on a good day.”

“… And yet, you’re here,” Sung Hyunjae murmured. “You…”

Han Yoojin looked at him, waiting for him to finish, but he only smiled and shook his head. With a gentle nudge, the horse began to trot towards the Wall.

A vast, towering structure of pure-white stone that stretched on as far as the eye could see, the Wall seemed to hum with a life force of its own, the runes and sigils carved into it giving off the illusion that they were pulsating, as if to an invisible heartbeat. But compared to when he’d been here as a child, that hum felt noticeably duller.

As they approached the Wall, its shadow devoured them, the air around them noticeably cooling by a few degrees. The metal gate that served as one of the few true exits to the Wall was lifted up to allow them to pass, the magic sweeping over them like a rush of static. And then, they were outside.

The familiar, oppressive weight of the world beyond the Wall engulfed them. The pressure of it was difficult to bear for even low-rank hunters until they became acclimated to it, and the horses that they used for expeditions were specially bred and trained to resist its force. Sung Hyunjae studied Han Yoojin closely. He hadn’t so much as twitched an eyebrow.

As they continued to ride, he was strangely silent, a distant look on his face as he watched the Wall grow smaller behind them.

“… Seseong’s wall is very clean,” he murmured.

Sung Hyunjae turned his head to glance at the Wall in response. From this side, the expanse of stone seemed to form an unbroken ribbon, smooth and immaculate. But he knew it wasn’t its physical cleanliness that Han Yoojin was referring to.

“Our hunters aren’t so idle as to ignore someone poking holes in our Wall,” Sung Hyunjae remarked. “But, I suppose Haeyeon has no shortage of illegal collection tunnels.”

It was no secret that the more unstable a territory, the more illegal tunnels appeared in its Wall. Despite the danger outside, the lucrative draw of mana crystals and monster parts was irresistible to the greedy and the desperate.

“There are less now,” Han Yoojin defended, almost reflexively. “Yoohyun has tightened the discipline in the Haeyeon guard a lot. Even if they have less elites currently, it won’t be long before Haeyeon surpasses Seseong in defensive power.”

As always, his face was the most animated when he spoke about his brother. There was a fierce glimmer in his eyes completely at odds with the fragile nature of his body, an unshakeable adoration in his voice that couldn’t be swayed.

What must it be like to be on the receiving end of such an expression?

“Does the young lord not consider himself half a resident of Seseong yet? I’ll be hurt if you don’t at least cheer me on equally.”

“Hurt?” Han Yoojin scoffed. “The great duke of Seseong, who’s too good for his support team?”

Sung Hyunjae smiled indulgently. “I’m only great under the blessing of my dear Yoojin. Without it, I’m just a mortal man.”

“Since the decision is up to me, then I’d prefer to see Your Grace crawling in the mud like the rest of us mortals.”

“There’s no need to go to such lengths for that. I would happily get on my knees for my Yoojin any day.”

“Then please take into account your status as a senior citizen,” Han Yoojin informed him. “Your knees can’t take such a thing anymore at your age.”

They had gone past the immediate perimeter of the Wall now, the part where the effects of its magic could still be felt. Beyond that, anything could happen. Unknown monsters could suddenly appear, a distortion in space might swallow one up into a separate dimension… There was both great risk and great reward, if you had the strength to handle it.

“I’m going to use my ability on you now,” Han Yoojin told him. “Even if it’s strong, it’s only an enhancement to your attacks, so… How should I say this, don’t suddenly go off thinking you’re invincible.”

All of a sudden, Sung Hyunjae felt something inside of him swell—like a sense that he hadn’t even been aware he could perceive. Every crackle in the air, every brush of static across his fingers seemed to tingle on his skin with twice the intensity, intertwining in a brilliant tapestry that cast the world in a different hue. It was one thing to know that the electricity he commanded was ever-present in the world around him—it was another thing entirely to feel it. And with the swell of the mana at his fingertips, all of it was entirely his.

His arm tightened around Han Yoojin’s waist.

“Your Grace?”

Han Yoojin was scrutinizing his expression closely.

“… You truly are full of surprises,” he responded.

“You don’t seem to have lost your mind yet,” Han Yoojin said, looking him up and down. “That’s a reassuring quality in a potential butler and/or tailor.”

Sung Hyunjae smiled at him, but the sharpness of his teeth came through a little more than usual. “In other words, you’ve witnessed others going out of their mind after you used this ability. How many times have you used it?”

“Four times,” Han Yoojin answered. “The first time, I thought it was just a fluke. The second… confirmed it wasn’t. The third—well, you heard it. It’s to the point that I was wondering if there’s a hidden side effect of inducing a battle frenzy or something. So, congratulations, you’re a one in four rarity. Does the duke of Seseong have any inspiring words for the crowd?”

“As I thought,” Sung Hyunjae murmured. “It was the correct choice to send the others away.” His arm around Han Yoojin’s waist tightened by another degree. “The other two who have seen this ability—where are they?”

Han Yoojin was silent for a beat. “They’re not alive anymore,” he said carefully. “The circumstances were not conducive to them staying alive.”

Sung Hyunjae’s smile widened. “Good.”

As the approached the site of the anomaly, a shadow passing by overhead caused them both to look up.

“A dragon?” Han Yoojin said in surprise.

“No, two.” Sung Hyunjae corrected.

The second dragon was curled up amidst a cluster of sharp rocks in the distance, its jet-black body and thorny wings difficult to distinguish at a glance from the craggy peaks on the horizon. The first dragon soared past them, perching on one of the boulders near the second.

“That’s the anomaly the scouts reported?”

“At the time, they only saw one. It was showing signs of aggression toward the Wall.”

Han Yoojin’s eyes flickered toward him. “But, still, this shouldn’t pose a problem for the great Sung Hyunjae?”

Sung Hyunjae’s lips curled in a predatory smile. “Of course not. Just consider it part of the opening act.”

Lightening gathered in his hand, but he let it discharge harmlessly, the sparks dancing like fireworks on his fingers. Compared to the vast sea of current flowing around him, it was just a drop in the ocean.

The expedition horses were trained not to spook easily, but they would still be easy prey in a real fight. Collecting Han Yoojin in his arms, he leapt off the back of the horse and began making his way toward the dragons.

“Would a little warning have hurt?!” Cool fingers dug into his back, hanging on for dear life as they ran at a speed far surpassing any normal horse.

“You told me not to let go,” Sung Hyunjae answered mildly.

For all their strength and power, dragons were merely beasts in the end, driven by instinct. Sensing the disparity in their strength, the two dragons turned instinctively as he approached, wings unfurling in agitation as they hissed at him.

The first dragon rose into the air, its spiked wings kicking up a whirlwind of dust. Once it had ascended to a deadly height, it lunged, talons outstretched. The path of its descent was clear as day, and with a leisurely jump backwards, Sung Hyunjae watched the dragon barrel uselessly past him, forced to pirouette in midair to change course.

That was the problem with apex predators—once challenged for the first time, they couldn’t wrap their minds around how to fight an opponent stronger than them.

“It’s a thorn-winged black dragon,” Han Yoojin said suddenly.

“The name doesn’t leave much to the imagination,” Sung Hyunjae commented.

“The thorns on its wings and tail are poisonous,” Han Yoojin continued, ignoring him. “It probably has other poison-based attacks as well.” His brow furrowed in thought. “If it’s poison—if it’s just poison—I’m immune. I’m at least as good as a piece of poison-resistant gear that way, aren’t I?” He said meaningfully.

Sung Hyunjae stared at him wordlessly for a few moments, the corners of his mouth ticking upwards in delight. “My dear Yoojin,” he said slowly, “Are you sure you weren’t custom-made just for me?”

“Definitely not. Please pay attention to the fight.”

He didn’t even have to turn his head to sidestep the spray of acid that came shooting at them. Instead, it caught the corner of Han Yoojin’s elbow, and he flicked it harmlessly—though with a degree of annoyance—off the sleeve of his gryphonskin jacket.

“You did that on purpose,” he accused. “You could have dodged it easily.”

“I was just testing out your hypothesis,” Sung Hyunjae shrugged. “Gryphonskin isn’t poison-resistant by nature. Your resistance extends to your clothes?”

“I guess so,” Han Yoojin muttered, inspecting his sleeve again. It was more or less clean. “When are you going to stop showing off and finish it?”

“You could tell?”

Han Yoojin raised his left arm pointedly, where the Seeker’s Chains were still coiled. “You haven’t even drawn your weapon yet.”

“I don’t need it for something like this. It looks much more charming on you. But if the young lord is getting bored, there’s no point in dragging this on.”

Distantly, the sound of thunder rumbled far above them, though there wasn’t a cloud in sight. Mana gathered at his fingertips, tracing an invisible path through the air. Where it led, lightning followed, tearing apart the dragon’s wings in a second. It fell to the ground with a terrible keen, blood smearing across the rocky ground.

That had been the limits of his usual abilities, Sung Hyunjae mused, but with this enhanced strength, how much more could he do? Once more, he gathered mana in his hand, tracing a path through the air. The currents around him responded to its guidance, surging with an intensity that caused the very air around them to crackle.

Ah. But he couldn’t forget that the prize in his arms was fragile.

When the lightning came down, it descended with a deafening roar and a blinding flash of light. Once the light had dissipated, there was nothing left of the dragon—not blood, not skin, not even bone. Only a charred imprint on the ground that was unrecognizable for once having been a creature.

… Incredible.

“Oh,” Han Yoojin said, with a hint of despair. Sung Hyunjae glanced down at him, and he was looking at the charred ground mournfully. “Not even a shard of a mana crystal left…”

Sung Hyunjae burst into laughter. “You can have as many as you want when we get back.”

The bereaved wail of the second dragon interrupted them. It still hadn’t moved from its spot on the rocks, but its body began to shudder violently.

“A self-destruction attack,” Han Yoojin blurted out. He grabbed Sung Hyunjae’s face with both hands and shoved it into his own chest, wrapping both of his arms around Sung Hyunjae’s neck as a loud boom rang out and a violent gust of wind swept past them.

For a few minutes, all Sung Hyunjae could feel was the warmth of being encased in leather-bundled arms, and all he could smell was the faint lingering scent of the shampoo. Eventually, Han Yoojin released him, and he finally caught the scent of sulfur still strong in the air.

By the time they both raised their heads, the second dragon, too, had been reduced to little more than a pile of charred rubble.

“… You destroyed it before the self-destruction completed?” Han Yoojin asked in surprise. 

“If it’d fully detonated its mana crystal, the second wave of the self-destruction would’ve been more than just poison,” Sung Hyunjae answered, his tone neutral.

“Mmh,” Han Yoojin agreed with relief. “Thanks to you, the surroundings aren’t damaged. We’ll be able to search it thoroughly.” He stepped forward, but Sung Hyunjae’s grip on his arm didn’t budge, nor did he move to follow. After a few aborted tugs, he gave up and looked back at Sung Hyunjae. “What now?” He asked, exasperated.

“I believe we’ve talked at length about how your body wouldn’t be able to withstand such an attack,” Sung Hyunjae continued levelly. “In such a situation, you should understand to wait quietly behind me.”

Han Yoojin blinked, then frowned. “Isn’t that too simplistic? I also had my own considerations. Even if the dragon was weaker than you in combat, that doesn’t mean that its poison would be harmless to you. If you’re incapacitated, this far outside the wall, I’m as good as dead. So, it was a calculated risk for my own benefit.”

Sung Hyunjae’s eyes continued to bore into him for a few silent moments. Finally, he smiled, but there was no warmth to it. “Alright,” he said. “Let’s talk about something else. After using me as an experimental rat for your ability to your heart’s content, what is your conclusion?”

“Ah.” Han Yoojin averted his eyes, looking a bit embarrassed at being accused so blatantly. “My thanks for Your Grace’s cooperation.” He scratched his cheek in thought. “The combat application seems good, after all. Since Your Grace was unaffected otherwise, I suppose it comes down to the subject’s mental fortitude. It wouldn’t hurt to test—er, use—it on a few more people.”

“You’re trying to determine if it’s safe to use on your brother.”

Han Yoojin looked at him in surprise, as if there had been anything difficult about guessing that train of thought. After all, was there room for anything else in that head of his?

“I’ll warn you now, your brother doesn’t have the level of control necessary to keep you unharmed at such close range. Fire, by nature, is indiscriminate about what it burns. And besides that… do you really think that I’m unaffected?” His grip on Han Yoojin’s wrist tightened just a fraction.

“… Your Grace?” Han Yoojin’s brows drew together in perplexion. Even now, it was like he didn’t understand to be afraid.

“Han Yoojin.” Sung Hyunjae bent forward, once again closing the distance that had just opened up between them. “Why don’t you just forget Haeyeon? Of course, I’ll keep an eye on your little brother and make sure he doesn’t drop dead, so you needn’t worry. In exchange, Seseong will buy you completely.”

Han Yoojin’s frown deepened. “Don’t be ridiculous. Anyways, let go first. The ability is making you act strange—”

“It’s not the ability,” Sung Hyunjae interrupted. “Let’s clarify this now. There’s nothing about the ability that’s affecting my mind—it’s simply that nobody wouldn’t covet the feeling of raw power. If you understand that, then don’t use it on any more people.”

Han Yoojin’s lips pressed together tightly, but eventually, he gave a small nod.

“Good.” Sung Hyunjae finally released Han Yoojin’s arm. Immediately, he felt the swell of power inside himself drain away to its normal amount, echoes of sensation still lingering at the corners of his consciousness. The feeling of loss was so profound that it was viscerally enraging.

So this was the feeling that had driven a king to his death.

Han Yoojin was still standing there, chewing his lip as he looked Sung Hyunjae up and down with an uncertain expression. “You’re really not unaffected?” He probed.

“Does it not seem that way? Then, it’s probably thanks to the fact that I’ve already had plenty of experience pursuing my Yoojin in vain.”

Han Yoojin let out an exasperated scoff. “I see, you’re perfectly fine, after all.” With one final glance backwards, he began heading for the rocks where the two dragons had perched. “I’m going to search the area a bit.”

Upon climbing up the rocks, it became evident that this place wasn’t simply a perch, but a nest. Cracked eggshells and slimy liquid lay in a bed of branches of twigs, much of it burnt from the aftermath of the second dragon’s death. Han Yoojin’s eyes scanned the nest for a few moments, and he seemed to hesitate for a moment before bending down to scoop through the egg fragments. It took some digging, but buried underneath a pile of half-charred branches and eggshells, there really was one complete, intact egg left.

Sung Hyunjae raised an eyebrow contemplatively.

“It could make a decent breakfast,” Han Yoojin coughed. He held out his hand expectantly. “Bag.”

Sung Hyunjae unbuckled the waist pouch from his belt and handed it over. The egg just barely managed to fit through the mouth of the pouch, disappearing into the enchanted space inside.

Han Yoojin poked the inside of the bag with a bit of worry. “It won’t die in there, will it?”

Sung Hyunjae pondered the question for a moment. “It’s a dragon egg, so it should be hardy.”

They both pointedly ignored the mess of broken eggshells around them.

Han Yoojin continued to search for a while, overturning rocks and even going so far as to move the remnants of the nest to check the stone underneath. Nothing else turned up during his search, though, and he let out a sigh of disappointment.

“I guess it wouldn’t be that easy,” he muttered.

Their horse was still waiting where they’d left it, which was rather fortunate considering that a passing monster could have easily snatched it away for dinner.

“I could carry you back much faster than the horse,” Sung Hyunjae told him mildly.

“I can’t use the ability again, so what’s the point?” Han Yoojin said with a roll of his eyes as he mounted. “If you’re that eager to run, then you go on foot.”

“That won’t do. I won’t feel at ease here unless my Yoojin is within arm’s reach.”

Although he snorted at the words, Han Yoojin scooted forward on the saddle to make room, and Sung Hyunjae jumped on nimbly. The way back was free of stray monsters as well—most likely, the pair of dragons had scared most other nearby predators into hiding, and their battle would have done the same. It wasn’t until they were past the Wall that Sung Hyunjae slowed the horse to a halt, a slight furrow in his brow.

“… What is it?” Han Yoojin asked at his sudden silence.

Sung Hyunjae looked up in the direction of the Seseong fortress a short ways off. Even from this distance, he could sense the blazing presence of that monstrous amount of mana that would cow anyone of inferior caliber.

“It seems like your brother received your gifts,” Sung Hyunjae answered lightly. “Perfect timing. We can take this opportunity to resolve a small property dispute.”

Chapter Text

“Yoohyun?” Han Yoojin asked blankly, mind reeling. “Why would he be here? What gifts? I didn’t send him any gifts.”

Sung Hyunjae had the gall to feign surprise. “Has the young lord already forgotten our very first deal? A promise not to impede Haeyeon’s growth for three years, aid in defending the Wall in the event that it’s requested, and immediate surrender of the contested territory along the Seseong-Haeyeon border. I hope that you’ll keep our vows much closer to heart when the time comes.”

“Of course I remember that,” Han Yoojin snapped. “I’m asking why… Oh, forget it.”

He’d neglected to put a clause about discretion in their contract because he’d thought—who would go around parading the fact that they’d been involved in regicide?

Apparently, Sung Hyunjae would.

He didn’t even bother to ask the reason. The bastard would probably just say something along the lines of, “It seemed like it'd be interesting.” He felt a headache coming on.

“What will you do? You can wait here, if you’d like. I’ll call Kang Soyoung over to guard you.” Sung Hyunjae was watching him as usual, like he was some sort of damned circus act.

“I… I’ll go,” he said, mouth dry.

Even if he waited here, he couldn’t feel at ease. Who was Sung Hyunjae? Only the strongest hunter in the kingdom—maybe even the continent—as well as the most influential of the three dukes. It was the nature of elite hunters to butt heads when they met, and Sung Hyunjae was someone to whom restraint was nothing more than an entertaining game. As for Yoohyun… of course, he’d had to grow a lot in the last three years to strengthen his hold on his position, but he was still barely past his coming-of-age.

All too soon, before Han Yoojin could fully organize his thoughts, they’d already arrived at the fortress, dismounting to leave the horse at the stables. Every footstep made his feet feel like lead. Not once in the past eight… three years had an encounter with Yoohyun gone well. Even if he’d turned back time, would that change?

“Sung Hyunjae,” Han Yoojin said suddenly. “Yoohyun—he’s just a kid, still. I mean, he’s past his coming-of-age, I know, but it’s only been a few years, and even though he’s smart and talented—of course, my brother is amazing—but, even so, when it comes to experience, compared to you or Moon Hyuna… I mean, just a few years ago, he was following me around everywhere and standing behind me—” He swallowed, forcing himself to stop babbling like an idiot. “What I’m—what I’m saying is, compared to him, you’re an adult, after all, so… you won’t give him a hard time, will you?”

Sung Hyunjae had paused to listen to him, and he stood there in silence for a few seconds, contemplating. “Han Yoohyun isn’t as fragile as you seem to think,” he said finally.

“I know he’s not fragile. I know he has what it takes.”

The Yoohyun he’d seen in the future had carried himself with an air of ruthless self-assurance, looking every bit the respected duke. His accomplishments had been sung far and wide. But, he’d also seemed tired and worn.

“Still, I…” Han Yoojin trailed off, unsure of what to ask for.

Sung Hyunjae smiled wryly. “Seeing you like this, it makes me want to bully him even more. But, I won’t deal him more than he can handle.”

… No, what did that even mean? Why did it not sound reassuring at all?

“Here.” Something round and firm was pressed into his hand. “If you don’t want to talk to him yet, you can use this.”

It was a plain-looking bracelet. As soon as he put it on, his body disappeared from view, and even when he waved his hand in front of his face, he could only see a faint shimmer.

“Invisibility?” Han Yoojin said in surprise. It would have been a difficult item to get a hold of. He tried to ignore the sudden sour feeling in his nose. “Thank you…”

Despite not being able to see him, Sung Hyunjae still managed to pat his hair with perfect precision.

As they made their way through the fortress, he followed behind Sung Hyunjae, trying to match the rhythm of his footsteps. With the sharpened senses of an elite hunter, Yoohyun would still be able to detect him through sound or touch, so he couldn’t rest easy just because he was invisible.

It didn’t take them long to find Han Yoohyun. He was standing just inside the entrance of the main hall, arms folded with a grim look on his face. Compared to his future self, he still hadn’t filled out his height and the width of his shoulders all the way, but compared to three years ago, he’d lost almost all of the baby fat in his cheeks, and the expression on his face was far from the sweet, polite smile that Han Yoojin remembered.

Surrounding him were a handful of nervous-looking high-ranked Seseong hunters. Upon seeing Sung Hyunjae, all of them wore looks of immense relief.

“Your Grace!” What looked like the leader of the hunters greeted.

“You can go,” Sung Hyunje dismissed. With parting bows executed at the speed of light, the group of hunters all but fled.

Before the last of them had even made it fully out the door, Han Yoohyun threw a piece of rolled-up vellum onto the ground. When it hit the floor, the vellum unrolled, and Han Yoojin quickly scanned a few lines. It was the terms of agreement for ceding the contested territories to Haeyeon, bearing Sung Hyunjae’s signature.

“What is this?” Han Yoohyun demanded harshly.

Sung Hyunjae raised an eyebrow. “I would have thought that Duke Haeyeon had learned to read. My apologies for the hasty assumption.”

Han Yoohyun didn’t even acknowledge his taunt. “There’s no such thing as a gift without a price. What are you after?”

Sung Hyunjae flashed him a smile that showed his sharp teeth. “From you? Nothing at all. Let’s just say that I’ve begun to think of you as my own little brother, too.”

Han Yoojin wanted to tear his own hair out. All of that cutting wit that Sung Hyunjae had been blessed with, and this was the best excuse he could come up with? 

Sure enough, Han Yoohyun’s eyes narrowed dangerously. The look in his eyes alone could have incinerated Sung Hyunjae to ashes five times over. “Where is hyung? What did you do with him?!” He all but snarled.

… No, how had he jumped to that conclusion so quickly?! Of course, it was more or less correct, but…

“I think the better question would be, what haven’t I done with your hyung,” Sung Hyunjae answered with fake contrition. “As for where he is… if you truly had the capability, wouldn’t you know that better than I?”

The response instantly lit the tinder ablaze. Han Yoohyun drew his sword without so much as a second word, and Sung Hyunjae raised a hand, lightning tracing lazily across his fingers.

The fact was, Sung Hyunjae would most likely stop at a warning shot. Han Yoojin knew that. And there wasn’t much that he could do in a fight between elites either way—he knew that, too. But he’d only just personally witnessed Sung Hyunjae’s lightning reduce two whole, living dragons to piles of charred rubble in a split second. There wasn’t a force on earth that could have compelled him to stand by quietly and watch while the kingdom’s strongest hunter took aim at his baby brother.

“Yoohyun!” Han Yoojin cried, charging past Sung Hyunjae from behind just as the lightning shot forth from his hands.

The next few seconds were a complete blur, too fast for him to even perceive. It was the surest proof that everything before had been nothing but gentle play for the two of them.

By the time he opened his eyes again, the world seemed to have spun on its axis. The bracelet had slipped off his wrist when he’d been knocked to the ground, Han Yoohyun’s arms clutching him tightly with his own body covering him as a shield. Sung Hyunjae’s hand had pulled back at the last second, the lightning he’d summoned dissipating without leaving so much as a trace. The Seeker’s Chains had unraveled themselves and were coiled protectively in the air around him and Han Yoohyun. And, there were two pairs of furious eyes on him.

… No, but, why? Even though they’d been the ones fighting childishly—why were they acting like he was the one in the wrong?

Han Yoohyun was the first to speak, his furious glare sliding to Sung Hyunjae. “Watch where you point your damned sparks,” he seethed, his voice bubbling with suppressed rage.

Sung Hyunjae smiled, but his voice was icy cold. “The young duke should mind what kind of trouble he gets into in someone else’s territory.”

Han Yoohyun’s hand began to creep towards the hilt of his sword again, and Han Yoojin seized his arm in alarm.

“Don’t fight,” he begged. “Yoohyun, if you really do still think of me as your older brother at all, even a little bit, don’t fight.”

Han Yoohyun’s eyes flew to him in shock. “Hyung, what do you mean?!”

Han Yoojin opened his mouth, trying to put together a coherent thought, but it was like the sound of Han Yoohyun’s voice had broken the seal on all of the emotions he’d been suppressing since he’d first woken up in the past again. Ugly, raw, and desperate, they bubbled up his throat and poured uncontrollably out from his lips.

“I’m sorry, Yoohyun. I’m so sorry.” 

How many times had this very scene played out in his nightmares? Yoohyun, putting his own body between his useless older brother and certain death. But unlike in his dreams, the body in his arms now was warm, alive.

“I—I won’t drag you down anymore,” he choked out. “I just want to see you live a long and happy life. So, please… Yoohyun, I love you.”

There was a beat of silence as Han Yoohyun’s face worked through a myriad of emotions. No longer the cold and imperious duke, there was hesitation and uncertainty on his face for the first time today.

“Hyung…” Han Yoohyun’s voice trembled, and he threw his arms around Han Yoojin in a crushing embrace that nearly knocked the wind out of his lungs. “I was so scared,” he said hoarsely. “That you wouldn’t forgive me after everything that’s happened.”

Pure, unadulterated relief flooded Han Yoojin’s mind, momentarily sweeping away all of his fears and anxieties until now. So they had both been scared. Everything between them could still be fixed.

“There’s nothing you could do that I wouldn’t forgive you for,” he said honestly.

When Han Yoohyun pulled back, there was a bright smile on his face that could have come straight from his younger days. “Thank goodness,” he said, sounding a little sheepish. “Then, hyung, we can live together in Haeyeon again, just like before?”

“Yes, just like—huh? Haeyeon?” Han Yoojin blinked, rudely jolted out of his euphoria. “But, the exile…” He said, unsure.

“It’s fine now. Everyone who bothered you is gone, hyung. I’ve made sure of it. Nobody will ever make you go through something like that again,” Han Yoohyun told him emphatically.

Han Yoojin swallowed a lump in his throat. The thought of returning to the blissful days of their childhood—it hadn’t been easy back then, by any means, but there had been no rifts between them, no misunderstandings that ran the chasm of years—of a lifetime, even. He wanted it, so badly that it ached.

But…

He glanced to the side where Sung Hyunjae was standing, uncharacteristically silent. Sung Hyunjae was watching them, unsurprisingly, but there was a complicated expression on his face that Han Yoojin didn’t know how to name. When their eyes met, though, it soon melted into a warm smile.

“You should spend some time with your brother,” Sung Hyunjae said gently. “It will take time to heal the scars on your heart.”

Han Yoojin returned the smile with relief. Sung Hyunjae might act like he didn’t have a care in the world, but when it came down to it, there was no one more reliable than him. He really was a capable, responsible, mature adult after all.

“Besides,” Sung Hyunjae added, “I’ve been wanting to tour the scenery in Haeyeon for a while. Didn’t you promise to show me your pet cat?”

… Nevermind. He’d spoken too soon. Sung Hyunjae was the spawn of demonkind.

“Absolutely not,” Han Yoohyun repeated, jaw clenched.

This had been going on for hours now. Han Yoojin thought that he was beginning to see why it’d been so difficult for the three duchies to unite even up to the Wall’s last breath. Thank goodness they’d at least moved from the drafty main hall into a cozier drawing room. He rubbed his arms and scooted a little closer to the fireplace.

“My dear Yoojin, are you cold?” Sung Hyunjae broke away from the conversation—more of an argument between schoolchildren, really—to saunter over and drape his cloak over Han Yoojin’s shoulders.

“Uh… thanks.” He stretched out the tips of his fingers to pull the cloak a little closer, ignoring the stab of guilt in his chest at Han Yoohyun’s glower. But, it really was a very warm cloak.

“My brother doesn’t need Seseong’s handouts,” Han Yoohyun said coldly. With a gesture of his hand, the fireplace began to burn at twice the intensity, immediately turning the room into a furnace.

Ignoring pangs of awkwardness under Sung Hyunjae’s intense gaze, Han Yoojin pushed the cloak off his shoulders as surreptitiously as possible. It couldn’t be helped. It really was too warm.

“Handout? What an unpleasant way of describing it. As I see it, what’s his is mine, and what’s mine is his.” Sung Hyunjae smiled coolly, reaching out to wrap an arm around Han Yoojin’s shoulders. The next thing he knew, Han Yoohyun had already stood up and grabbed Sung Hyunjae’s arm before it could reach its target.

Han Yoojin was starting to wonder if he was suffering a stroke. This was a diplomatic exchange between two of the highest powers in the kingdom, right? He hadn’t accidentally wandered into a nursery, had he? Should he at least be relieved that they were fighting with words and not weapons anymore?

“Yoohyun,” he finally spoke up wearily, “Please be more mindful of your station. Letting Duke Seseong visit Haeyeon isn’t an excessive request, is it?”

“I can’t allow someone with untoward intentions toward you into Haeyeon, hyung, ” Han Yoohyun said stubbornly.

… Should he explain that Sung Hyunjae just didn’t have an un-“untoward” bone in his body? Umm… But wouldn’t that make the duke of Seseong sound rather untrustworthy?

“It’s beneficial to foster better relations with the other dukes. Especially…” Han Yoojin thought carefully about how to word the dangers he’d seen coming. “Especially with the Wall in a deteriorating state. You never know when uniting forces might become necessary.”

Han Yoohyun’s lips thinned in dissatisfaction, and Sung Hyunjae took advantage of the momentary distraction to free his arm and finally achieve his goal of placing it on Han Yoojin’s shoulder.

“You should listen to your older brother,” He said, sounding far too smug to simply be giving friendly advice. “I, for one, have every intention of fostering intimate relations together.”

… Why did he have to word it in such a strange way? Would he die if he didn’t add fuel to the fire, just once?

“Your Grace,” Han Yoojin said through gritted teeth. “May I have a word with you in private?”

“Of course. My Yoojin needn’t stand on such formalities with me,” Sung Hyunjae said easily.

On the other side, Han Yoohyun’s eye had started twitching again, so Han Yoojin quickly dragged Sung Hyunjae away before more bloodshed could ensue. It wasn’t until they were three hallways down—far enough that not even Han Yoohyun’s acute hearing could pick up their conversation—that he finally stopped.

“Your Grace,” he said, not bothering to hide his exasperation, “Yoohyun is half your age. Do you have to pick a fight with him?”

Sung Hyunjae tilted his head, putting on an aggrieved expression. “When did I pick a fight with him? I merely spoke from the heart.”

Han Yoojin scoffed. Sure, his impulse to sow chaos came from the heart, alright. “You’re purposefully saying things that you know will set him off.”

Sung Hyunjae only shrugged. “Children need to be exposed to things they dislike in moderation in order to acclimate to them.”

… No, it really was fine if Yoohyun didn’t acclimate to this.

“Forget about that for now,” Han Yoojin sighed, rubbing his temples. “Are you…” He bit his lip, hesitating.

Up until now, he’d refrained from asking about matters in the capital. For one, Sung Hyunjae was plenty capable of handling them by himself, and for another, it was none of his business. He had no desire to create trouble for himself by accidentally overstepping his bounds. But if it was going to involve Haeyeon, that was another matter entirely.

“Do you really have time to be visiting Haeyeon? Aren’t things in the capital at a critical state right now?” He finally asked.

Sung Hyunjae smiled lightly. “Are you worried about me?”

“I’m worried about you bringing your troubles to someone else’s house.”

Sung Hyunjae sighed, feigning disappointment. “It’s a bit of a stalemate in the capital at the moment. I’m playing a waiting game with the captain of the royal guard, you see.” His features had smoothed out into their usual shallow indifference, his posture as relaxed as if they were simply talking about the weather.

“A waiting game?” Han Yoojin’s brows knit together into a frown.

“The good captain is looking for a culprit, knowing full well he’ll never find one, but his loyalty to the throne prevents him from accepting that so quickly.” Mirth danced on Sung Hyunjae’s lips. “So you see, it would be best for me to show my face in front of him as little as possible, if only to reassure him.”

“And if he never gives in?” Han Yoojin probed.

“There are always ways of making someone give in,” Sung Hyunjae said without a trace of emotion. But his tone quickly lightened again. “Of course, it won’t come to that. At the end of the day, our lovely captain still cares about the people of the kingdom more than his own stubbornness.”

In other words, Sung Hyunjae was pretending to wash his hands of court politics at the moment. In that case, the risk of bringing him to Haeyeon wasn’t high.

Han Yoojin opened his mouth to ask more, but he was cut off. “Time’s up,” Sung Hyunjae said softly. Before he could ask what that meant, he heard Han Yoohyun’s voice in the distance.

“Hyung!”

When he turned around, he saw that Han Yoohyun was striding toward them with impatience. He cut in between the two of them, forcing Han Yoojin to take a step back, and began glaring at Sung Hyunjae again.

Han Yoojin felt his head throb. Wasn’t this a bit much? They’d only gone three hallways down. Hadn’t he managed by himself all these years?

Enough was enough.

Hiding his hands behind his back, he pinched the skin of his arm until a few tears gathered in the corners of his eyes and drew his shoulders in to make himself look smaller.

“Yoohyun,” he said, allowing a slight tremble to creep into his voice, “It’s been a long time, and I’m tired. Can’t we just go home?”

Han Yoohyun’s eyes widened, a stricken look crossing his face. He seemed to be at a loss for words for a few moments, and when he finally opened his mouth again, all the hostility had drained from his face.

“Okay,” he said simply.

Although Han Yoohyun had bristled at allowing Sung Hyunjae to arrange for a costly teleportation spell to send the three of them to the Haeyeon terminal, there were no faster options, so in the end, he reluctantly authorized it. The terminal dumped them just a few hours’ trip away from Haeyeon fortress—less, if you were an elite hunter, but Han Yoojin had staunchly refused to be carried.

It felt like it’d been a lifetime since he’d last stepped foot inside the Haeyeon fortress. It had been his childhood home, the place where he and Yoohyun had grown up. Passing through the entrance, he couldn’t help but marvel at the improvements Han Yoohyun had made to it.

Even in his earliest memories, the fortress had held little in the way of riches. Despite all the natural wealth of their fief, their parents had been hard-pressed to scrape enough money together to maintain their hired force of hunters. After all, the value of even a single elite was priceless. Then, when their parents had passed, the household vaults had been plundered down to the last gold coin by greedy relatives. Of course, as proper heirs, it wasn’t like he and Yoohyun had ever starved, but they’d certainly never known the kind of silver-spooned luxury associated with the upper echelons of nobility.

Now, though—all of the once-worn and threadbare furnishings had been replaced or repainted, the broken window panes removed, every cobweb and dusty corner swept clean. Passing through the entrance, he saw that the banner displaying their coat-of-arms was new, woven from luxurious silk and thread-of-gold. The fortress wasn’t extravagant—it was clear that it was Yoohyun’s touch, because everything had been arranged with practicality in mind—but it fully displayed the wealth and influence that a proper duke’s household should have.

His baby brother really had grown a lot.

“Hyung, what do you think?” Han Yoohyun said, sounding a little anxious. “It looks a little different now, but I hope it still feels like home.”

“Of course. You’ve put so much work into it. How could it not?” Han Yoojin smiled at him, and Yoohyun smiled back, looking a little bashful at the compliment.

“Do you want to rest first, hyung? Or eat? Is there anything you need?”

“Oh, umm…” Suddenly, he remembered his impromptu find from outside the Wall and turned to Sung Hyunjae, who’d been following quietly. “The egg, give it to me.”

“As my Yoojin commands,” he responded lightly. Instead of retrieving the dragon egg, though, he unfastened his waist pouch entirely from his belt and bent forward, securing it to Han Yoojin’s.

“Huh?” Han Yoojin asked intelligently, and Sung Hyunjae shot him a dazzling smile.

“There are some emergency supplies inside that the young lord can use. For example, my handkerchief, for when the young lord misses me…”

“How thoughtful,” Han Yoojin said brightly. “I’ll make sure to give it to the hunting dogs so they know to attack on sight.” He poked around the inside, finding the aforementioned handkerchief, in addition to some first aid supplies and a pile of gold coins—at least a couple hundred in number. The damned old man wouldn’t get on his case later about returning those, would he? After chewing his lip in thought for a while, he added in a sickly sweet voice, “My, Your Grace has left some pocket change in here. Shall I consider it an early birthday gift?”

Sung Hyunjae smiled indulgently. “Of course not,” he said. “Like you said, it’s just pocket change. How could that be a good enough birthday gift for my Yoojin?”

 … Calling a couple hundred gold coins pocket change, what a crazy bastard. But, it seemed like it would be okay to use it? Then, what should he buy first with the unexpected windfall?

“Hyung,” Han Yoohyun interrupted. “Do you need money?”

“Hm? Not really,” Han Yoojin responded absently.

Han Yoohyun directed an angry glower at Sung Hyunjae. “If you need money, hyung, I can give you as much as you want.”

“Ah, don’t follow this crazy old man’s example, he’s just a maniac with gold to burn. Yoohyun, you should keep managing your finances responsibly. It must not have been easy restoring the treasury to this state.”

“But, hyung… ” Han Yoohyun’s face was caught between the warring impulses to argue and to preen at the compliment. What a sweet kid… He absolutely couldn’t let the likes of Sung Hyunjae corrupt him.

Sung Hyunjae followed up with a beatific smile, which immediately drew Han Yoohyun’s ire like a lightning rod. “Is Duke Seseong’s business here not concluded yet?” Han Yoohyun asked through gritted teeth. “Don’t expect to stay the night under our roof.”

Han Yoojin frowned. “Yoohyun,” he reminded, “Traditionally, you should offer hospitality—”

“No need,” Sung Hyunjae interrupted, the smile never slipping off his face. “There’s an inn in the city that I’m accustomed to staying at for business.”

“Oh,” Han Yoojin blinked. So Sung Hyunjae had been to Haeyeon before after all. Well, now that he thought about it, it only made sense. How could he not have visited the neighboring fiefs even once? Although Han Yoojin didn’t remember dealing with him, their uncle probably had.

“If you miss me, feel free to come with me,” Sung Hyunjae said lightly.

Han Yoojin scowled. “Who would miss you? Since you’ve got a place to go, hurry and be on your way, then.”

“Hold on.” Unexpectedly, it was Han Yoohyun who spoke up. Maintaining his heated glower at Sung Hyunjae, he lifted Han Yoojin’s arm, where the Seeker’s Chains had coiled themselves again after their earlier confrontation. “I hope Duke Seseong won’t forget to take his trash with him.”

Sung Hyunjae raised an eyebrow. To be honest, Han Yoojin almost had the same impulse. Calling one of the most valuable enchanted weapons in the kingdom trash—only Yoohyun could do such a thing.

“Trash or not,” Sung Hyunjae said mildly, “it would be poor manners to take back something I’ve lent out. What do you think, my dear Yoojin?”

Unexpectedly dragged into the crossfire all of a sudden, Han Yoojin blinked. Han Yoohyun’s eyes were also fixed on him now, and he sighed internally.

He was fairly certain that Sung Hyunjae had some level of ability to sense the chain’s location when it was away from him, and it was difficult to gauge what distance he could control it from. In other words, there was probably a not-so-subtle threat in his words—their relationship was hardly one bound by mutual trust, after all.

But, in truth, Han Yoojin didn’t want to part with the Seeker’s Chains, either—at the very least, not until he was able to see what Yoo Meongwoo could make of it. Whatever other factors were involved, it was still a weapon of almost mythical status, alright? Forget touching it, most people wouldn’t even have the chance to so much as lay eyes on it in their lifetime.

So it was with something that almost approached sincerity that he said, in a voice sugary enough to choke, “Thank you for your generosity, Your Grace. If you don’t mind, I’ll hold on to it for a little longer.”

“Certainly,” Sung Hyunjae said, sounding satisfied. His eyes returned to Han Yoohyun. “Does Duke Haeyeon have any more objections?”

Han Yoohyun’s lips thinned, but he remained silent.

“Then, the next time we meet, I hope young lord Yoojin will give me the honor of a tour,” Sung Hyunjae said.

What tour? Han Yoojin thought dryly. Hadn’t he already visited this place plenty of times?

“Of course, but Your Grace will have to make reservations at the front desk,” he answered with a fake smile.

Han Yoojin would never say that he missed Sung Hyunjae, but he had to admit that without his presence, the weight of being back inside the Haeyeon fortress settled on his shoulders heavier than before.

No matter how much the furniture had changed, this was the place where he’d grown up. The rooms, the hallways, the stairs and windows—they awakened a familiarity in him that ached. And yet, the people had all changed. To say nothing of him or Yoohyun, even the servants and staff had been swapped out completely.

“Hyung,” Han Yoohyun said suddenly, breaking the oppressive silence. “Are you in any kind of trouble?”

Han Yoojin looked up at him, baffled. “Why would you think that?”

“About a month ago, the people I had following you suddenly reported that you were missing. Have you been in Seseong all this time?”

“Wait a minute,” Han Yoojin interrupted. “You had people following me?”

“To make sure you were safe,” Han Yoohyun answered, completely naturally. “And this time—Seseong suddenly giving up the disputed territory. Are you being blackmailed? Threatened? Is he making you do something?”

Did being pestered relentlessly anytime he skipped a meal count? Han Yoojin wondered idly.

“No, I’m perfectly fine,” he answered. “We’re just mutually helping each other out for a little while.”

Han Yoohyun was silent for a beat, his face morphing into a pained expression. “Then… you’re… close?” He said, sounding physically ill.

“Not really. It’s a contractual exchange.”

“I see.” Han Yoohyun fell silent again. “Hyung, if you really ran into trouble, you would tell me, right?”

“Huh? Ah, of course, if I really needed help, I would ask you.”

Although, that hadn’t gone particularly well last time.

Han Yoojin shook his head to clear his thoughts. The past was in the past… well, future. There was nothing to gain from dwelling on it.

“Come on, let’s go,” he said, patting Han Yoohyun on the back. “I haven’t been back in my room in ages.”

Han Yoohyun still looked somewhat unsatisfied, but he nodded and kept walking.

When they finally did reach his old room, Han Yoojin had to rub his eyes to make sure he hadn’t daydreamed the last several years. It could have been just yesterday that he’d slept in this room. In contrast to the halls outside, which had been completely transformed, not a single piece of furniture in this room had been replaced. Even the pillows and bedding were the ones he remembered. And all of it had been kept clean and free of dust, as if someone still lived here.

“I… didn’t want to change anything,” Han Yoohyun said in a quiet voice. “But, if there’s anything better you’d prefer—”

“No, this is fine,” Han Yoojin told him, clearing his throat to mask the sudden lump in it. “Thank you. I’m glad you kept it this way.”

Han Yoohyun rewarded him with a small smile. “Then, I’ll go get dinner ready. Wait here, hyung.”

“Huh? Oh, okay.”

Han Yoohyun breezed out of the room, and Han Yoojin sat down gingerly on the bed, tracing the familiar embroidery on the blankets. He had taken it for granted that it would have been thrown out, but here it lay, untouched.

… Should he see just how untouched this room really was?

Slowly, he stood up and walked over to his desk, running his fingers along the underside until he found the innocuous groove that most would ignore. Pressing it inwards, he slid it in the pattern that he remembered until the false bottom of the desk fell out. He had brought most of its contents with him when he’d left three years ago, but there were still two tiny bottles of clear liquid inside, along with a few pill capsules.

Poison. Through all ages, it had always been the favored weapon of the weak.

The strong could talk about things like honor and fairness because they could easily tear, or trample, or ravage just by lifting a finger. But when you were weak, it was different. A spider would be a fool to debate honor with a lion.

He hadn’t had poison resistance back then, so he’d needed to keep the antidote on hand, but there was no such need now, and it was probably expired anyways. He slid the pills into his pocket to dispose of later. The ingredients in the poison would easily keep for another few years, though, so he checked the seal on the bottles before placing them in his newly-acquired waist pouch.

The egg was still in the pouch, and he brought it out carefully, but the shell felt hard and sturdy to the touch. There was probably nothing to worry about in that aspect—it might seem fragile to an overpowered elite, but for someone like him, he doubted he’d be able to leave so much as a scratch on it even if he were to hurl it against a stone wall. The egg still radiated a faint warmth, so he tucked it inside of his jacket, hoping that his body heat could substitute for at least a little of the care it needed to hatch. Once he saw Peace again, should he hand the egg over to Peace? But, the thorn-winged black dragon wasn’t a species with innate fire resistance, so he might really end up with a cooked egg… Better to just keep it himself, he decided.

There was a knock on the door from a servant to inform him that dinner was ready, so he wrapped the egg in the blankets before leaving. Han Yoohyun was waiting for him in the little side kitchen they always used to eat at, the food already arranged neatly on the old wooden table.

They both sat down and began to eat, but the silence between them was stifling. How had they talked so naturally in the past, when they ate like this? It’d been so long that it felt like a lifetime had passed.

“... How have you been doing?” Han Yoojin asked stiffly.

“I’ve been well.” Han Yoohyun prodded his food absently. “The tree you liked to sit under in the garden has started flowering again. I think you’ll be able to see it this year when spring arrives.”

“Oh… That will be nice.” The corners of Han Yoojin’s lips twitched upwards in reminiscence. “You learned to read under that tree, you know.”

“I know. I remember.” Han Yoohyun echoed his fleeting smile.

“How are the hunting expeditions lately? Are they tiring? Has there been anything dangerous?”

“No. They’re pretty routine now.”

“That’s good… Ah, I heard you recruited a new hunter recently, didn’t you? Has she been fitting in?”

Han Yoohyun frowned suddenly for some reason. “Don’t get too close to her.”

“Huh? Why?” Han Yoojin blinked. “Has she been causing problems?”

“Not exactly… She’s been asking strange questions about you. It’s odd.” Han Yoohyun hesitated. “I couldn’t find anything suspicious about her background, but… In any case, hyung, you should stay away from her for now.”

Oops. It looked like he might need to warn Bak Yerim about staying discreet… Well, in any case, it was probably a good thing that she was asking around about him. Since a stranger had come up to her and messed around with her mana, it was good for her to retain a healthy amount of skepticism about it.

“I’ll keep that in mind,” Han Yoojin said, clearing his throat. Han Yoohyun looked pleased at his quick agreement, and he shoved a forkful of potato into his mouth to wash down the twinge of guilt in his chest.

Han Yoohyun was watching him intently as he ate, a bit of nervous anticipation on his face. “How does it taste?” He asked finally, once Han Yoojin had chewed and swallowed.

The potato was lightly salted to the perfect amount, the soft and fluffy texture lingering on his tongue. “It’s really good,” he answered, taking another bite.

“I’m glad,” Han Yoohyun smiled with relief. “I tried to make dishes you used to like.”

Han Yoojin nearly choked on the potato in his mouth. “You learned to cook?” He asked, after swallowing with some difficulty. He had learned to cook as a matter of survival after leaving Haeyeon, but he couldn’t imagine for the life of him why Yoohyun would.

“A little.” Han Yoohyun looked down, pushing his own food around on his plate. “It was hard to know who I could trust, those first few years.”

“... Right.” So that was why all the servants had been swapped out. Han Yoojin’s grip on his fork tightened, the metal digging into his skin. “I’m sorry, for leaving you with such a mess to take care of.”

“Don’t say that!” Han Yoohyun stood up abruptly, the legs of the wooden chair scraping against the ground. “I can handle it. Even back then, I could have handled it. But, I didn’t even know…”

“You weren’t supposed to know. You were only a child.” Han Yoojin smiled faintly. “Yoohyun, you only get one childhood.”

“But, I’m not a child anymore,” Han Yoohyun persisted. “Hyung, I’ve grown a lot. I’m fast, and I’m strong. Haeyeon has grown a lot, too. We don’t need money—and the Wall is well secured. Not even Seseong could touch us easily.”

“I can tell,” Han Yoojin said honestly. “Even without you saying so, I can see how strong you are and how hard you’ve worked. You’ve become really reliable, Yoohyun.”

Han Yoohyun hesitated. “Do you mean it?” He asked. “You think I’m reliable?”

“Of course,” Han Yoojin answered with certainty, and Han Yoohyun nodded slowly, sitting back down.

His Yoohyun really was the best—strong, brave, hard-working, and talented. In just a few short years, he’d transformed a cracked and withered husk of a House into a powerful territory, becoming someone who all of Haeyeon could rely on.

It was his useless older brother who needed to catch up.

Chapter Text

“Good morning, my dear investment.”

Han Yoojin groaned and pulled his blankets over his head. He had clearly spent too much time in the company of that maniac, to be hallucinating his voice even in the depths of the Haeyeon fortress.

“It is ever so dull without your company here.”

Nope, not a hallucination. Groggily, Han Yoojin fumbled at his ears in an attempt to unfasten the red earrings in them. He had kept them in even after the day of the assassination because of the earrings’ defensive properties, and it had been so long since they’d actually used the communication enchantment on them that he’d nearly forgotten that function.

“But it seems that I’ll have to occupy my time with some of these pesky—”

With a careless toss of his arm and soft clatter, the earrings hit the wall far, far away from him, and blessed silence filled the space once again. But in the next moment, his head shot up.

He was back in Haeyeon!

The place that had occupied his every waking thought and subconscious dream for years upon years. Now that he was back, he could scarce believe it was real.

He found his old clothes still occupying the wardrobes, freshly laundered and pressed as if waiting for him. They were a little small now, a little tight around the shoulders and a bit short in places, but they still fit. It was a good thing, he thought dryly, that he had gotten accustomed to wearing things this luxurious again—more luxurious, if he was being honest—while staying at Seseong, or he was bound to make a fool of himself in front of Han Yoohyun. He was still hastily shrugging on his overcoat as he strode briskly to the door, opening it to find—

Eight guards, stationed at each side of the entrance to his rooms.

He stood there at a loss for words. The guards threw disinterested glances his way, then returned to staring at the empty hallway.

Really, Yoohyun? Even as heir, the most security Han Yoojin had ever had was a single mid-rank guard. Just what kind of threat did Han Yoohyun envision bursting through his bedroom doors for the sake of a penniless former aristocrat?

With an amused shake of his head, he made to exit his room, but—

Clang.

Before his foot had even made it to the ground, the spears of the guards closest to the door swung forward to block his way. He looked up at them incredulously.

“I can’t leave?” He demanded. “Whose orders are you under?”

There was yet more silence. Finally, one of the guards answered in a disgruntled voice. “These are His Grace’s orders.”

… Yoohyun’s?

“There must be a misunderstanding,” Han Yoojin said crossly. “You can ask him about it.”

The guards glanced at each other uncertainly, but no one moved. Finally, the guard who’d spoken earlier grunted, “His Grace is busy.”

Han Yoojin’s mouth twisted. “Fine, I’ll wait for him to come and explain it, then.”

Swallowing the acrid taste of déja vu in the back of his throat—though those spears now barred him in instead of out— he trudged back into his chambers and plopped into an armchair to fume. The minutes ticked by to the drumming of his fingers on the armrest. Finally, in his restlessness, he even deigned to pick up the earrings he’d tossed away earlier and fasten them back onto his ears.

Annoying duke of Seseong or not, the expensive enchantments on them were innocent.

“Hello?” He tried experimentally, tapping the earrings, but only silence answered him. Fine, that guy with too much free time on his hands had found something else to occupy him. Now he wouldn’t be pestered all day. That was a good thing. A good thing, Han Yoojin repeated firmly.

After some more idly sitting around, Han Yoohyun finally showed up.

“Good morning, hyung ,” He said brightly, a delighted smile on his face. The light from his smile rendered it difficult for Han Yoojin to hold fast to his displeasure, but he made his best attempt.

“Yoohyun, what’s with the guards outside?” He demanded. “They said I’m not allowed to leave. There has to be some mistake.”

“It’s not safe,” Han Yoohyun said matter-of-factly, the angelic smile on his face never faltering. “If word gets out that you’re involved with both the duke of Seseong and I, there will be no end to the number of people who will try to take advantage of you.” 

So… it wasn’t a mistake?

“But… This is Haeyeon,” Han Yoojin said incredulously. “Inside the fortress, at least…”

A hint of a crease appeared on Han Yoohyun’s brow. “You may not know, but the king’s assassin is still at large. To be able to infiltrate the royal palace during a well-secured ball and kill the king, an elite hunter, all without leaving a trace of their identity… And furthermore, there’s no telling who might be pulling their strings.” Han Yoohyun shook his head. “I won’t leave anything to chance while the king’s assassin remains an unknown variable, not even inside Haeyeon.”

A certain king’s assassin coughed delicately and averted his eyes. “You can’t seriously mean to keep me in my rooms all day,” Han Yoojin argued.

“Of course not,” Han Yoohyun said earnestly. “Whenever I’m free from my duties, I’ll escort you wherever you want to go.”

… Like taking a dog out for walks? Han Yoohyun, even prisoners at Seseong have more human rights than that, okay?!

But it seemed like there would be no convincing him. The gears in Han Yoojin’s head cranked furiously as he looked for an angle to argue from.

“What if I ask someone else to guard me?” He probed. “Another elite-rank hunter? Right… Didn’t one join Haeyeon recently? That, uh… Bak Yerim, was that her name?” He said the last part as nonchalantly as possible, biting off the name as if it were unfamiliar to him.

Han Yoohyun, however, frowned when he heard it. “I don’t trust her,” he said with distaste. “She might have an ulterior motive. Or someone behind her.”

“Yerim?” Han Yoojin said incredulously. “An ulterior motive? Someone behind her? Her only living family is garbage who would let her rot for a penny. Or so I’ve heard,” he tacked on hastily.

“Nonetheless—”

“Besides,” Han Yoojin persisted, “Since you let her join Haeyeon, that means that her background checks were clean, and that your gut told you she was trustworthy. You should believe in your own judgment more. You’re an excellent duke.”

Han Yoohyun bit his lip and sat up a little straighter, the upwards twitch of the corners of his lips the only evidence that he was trying hard not to preen. Such a cute little brother he had, Han Yoojin thought distractedly.

“… I suppose it would be fine,” Han Yoohyun relented. “If it’s within Haeyeon fortress, and Bak Yerim is vigilant about guarding you.”

“Of course she will be,” Han Yoojin assured. “She’s very diligent…..” He cleared his throat. “Or so I’ve heard.”

“Hey! Boss man! Ahjussi! ” A torrential force of nature shaped like a teenage girl barreled off the ledge of a castle rampart and landed thunderously before Han Yoojin’s feet almost as soon as he stepped onto the training grounds. Only the fortifying enchantments on the ground and walls kept the structure intact—well, it was built to potentially withstand the onslaught of high grade monsters, after all.

Bak Yerim’s eyes sparkled with excitement as she bounded over, but just as she was opening her mouth to speak, Han Yoojin shot her a warning look. Almost immediately, her mouth clamped shut again.

Han Yoohyun frowned from behind him. “You’ve met?”

Internally, Han Yoojin winced. So much for discretion. “... Only a little,” he tried to salvage. “It was by coincidence, before she came to Haeyeon.” Not technically false.

“What’s it to you, anyways?” Bak Yerim complained. “Why do you get so pissy every time I bring up ahjussi? Is it a crime to ask someone’s favorite color?”

At Han Yoohyun’s answering glower, Han Yoojin wanted to cover his face with his hands. Was it so hard for two elite hunters to get along in his presence? … And in the first place, Bak Yerim, what kind of questions have you been asking?

“Mind your own business,” Han Yoohyun said coldly. “Haeyeon accepted you to fight, not to ask things that don’t concern you.”

Han Yoojin cleared his throat. “Let’s calm down and talk properly for a bit. You’re colleagues now, and you’re around the same age. Can’t you try to see from the same point of view, a little bit?”

Han Yoohyun’s glower turned sullen as he whirled around to face Han Yoojin. “But, hyung, it’s clear she isn’t suitable for the responsibility of keeping you safe,” he said unhappily. “Instead, I’ll—”

“Who says I’m not suitable?!” Bak Yerim snapped. “You think I can’t keep him safe?! I’ll show you safe! I’ll put him behind twenty layers of solid ice so that not a single person or thing can so much as sneeze on him!”

Huh? Wait, why was this taking a strange turn? Bak Yerim, do you hear the kinds of words that are coming out of your mouth?!

“Hey, wait a minute—” Han Yoojin began to protest, but Han Yoohyun actually seemed to be strangely mollified by her words. His hostility had begun to melt away, replaced by a strangely pensive look. “Hold on,” Han Yoojin said with a nervous laugh, “Even one ice wall is too much, okay? I mean, Haeyeon is fundamentally safe. And something like a king’s assassin has no reason to go after small fry like me. Actually, a high rank hunter would be good enough as a guard, right? Elites are in such short supply, and Yerim must be busy—”

“I’m not busy,” Bak Yerim cut in energetically. “All I’ve been doing is training and patrolling inside the wall! Don’t worry, ahjussi , I’ll watch you like a hawk!”

“An elite would be better,” Han Yoohyun agreed. “And Bak Yerim has more free time than me. Let’s sign the contract now. Bak Yerim, until further notice, your sole responsibility will be to keep hyung from harm. And remember, the contract will penalize you if you allow anything to happen to him, intentionally or otherwise.”

“Yeah, yeah, you don’t need to give me some cruddy piece of paper to make sure of that. But I’ll sign it anyways,” Bak Yerim declared, waving impatiently for the paper.

Han Yoojin watched, aghast, at the bizarre alliance being signed into existence before his eyes. And the worst part was, he had made this bed for himself, so there was nothing he could say. Ah, should he congratulate them for learning how to get along?

“Hyung,” Han Yoohyun said with reluctance after the contract had been signed, “I have to attend to some meetings soon. You…”

“I’ll be fine,” Han Yoojin assured him. “Your duties come first. And I’ll be under guard, remember?”

“You come first, hyung,” Han Yoohyun muttered quietly, but he turned away nonetheless with a sigh and another forlorn look in their direction, soon disappearing behind a set of castle doors.

Bak Yerim watched vigilantly as he disappeared. Only when he was well and truly gone did she lean over and elbow Han Yoojin.

“So, so,” she said in a conspiratorial whisper, “How come you didn’t tell me earlier that the duke of Haeyeon was your brother?!”

“… Like I said, we didn’t have a good relationship at that time,” he answered reluctantly.

“Is that right?” She sounded unconvinced.

“… It’s a bit complicated.” Han Yoojin cleared his throat. “Anyways, how has Haeyeon been for you? Have you been adjusting well?”

“Never been better!” Bak Yerim chirped. “They’re saying I’m a natural! Want to see me destroy all those training dummies at once?”

She pointed at the three clusters of training dummies positioned around the field in imitation of a monster swarm. Then, without waiting for an answer, she leapt into the air, vanishing from sight only to reappear a split second later far above. With a twirl of her spear, icicles spun into form around her, and she kicked off from the nearest one in an eagle dive back to the ground as the icicles plummeted down alongside her.

When the resulting dust and debris had cleared, the wreckage of the dummies could be seen littering the ground. Bak Yerim herself, utterly unscathed, straightened up victoriously.

“Good—work!” Han Yoojin attempted to wheeze out in between coughing and fanning away dust from his face.

“Oh—Are you alright, ahjusssi? Was that too close?” Seeing his sorry state, Bak Yerim bounded over with concern.

“I’m—fine. Just a bit of—dust.” Hacking the last of the debris from his lungs, Han Yoojin wiped at his face with a sleeve and squared his shoulders. “Your control and precision are much better than before.”

“Yeah!” Bak Yerim beamed. “I’ve been doing lots of target practice!”

“That’s good. It will help you conserve your energy out there.” Han Yoojiin pondered for a moment. “But you haven’t been in a real fight yet, have you?”

Bak Yerim shook her head. “They haven’t let me on a patrol outside the Wall yet. How could you tell?”

“You weren’t paying attention to the dummies when you dove. Even if they’re just training dummies, once you’ve been in enough fights, it becomes second nature to keep one eye on your opponents.”

“Oh! I see.” Bak Yerim squinted at him. “I thought so last time, too, but even though you’re so weak, it feels like you know how to fight pretty well, ahjussi.”

Han Yoojin shrugged. “Even the unawakened fight, after all. Just not against hunters or monsters… usually. Anyways, how is Peace? How long has it been since you checked up on him?”

“Almost a week now,” Bak Yerim answered, counting her fingers. “It should be about time to feed him again.”

“How about we go outside the Wall and get some food for him?” Han Yoojin suggested. “You can finally get some real practice in, too.”

“Yeah!” Bak Yerim exclaimed. “Wait, no! I’m supposed to be guarding you!”

“You can guard me from anywhere,” Han Yoojin pointed out. “We’ll stick close to the Wall. There will only be low-level monsters there.”

“But, but…” Bak Yerim chewed her lip, obviously torn.

“Besides, it’s not like I can’t defend myself at all.” Han Yoojin’s fingers ran across the firm bump in the lining of his coat where the bottle of poison was hidden. “I’ve spent my fair share of time out there—ah, don’t tell Yoohyun about that, though.”

“… It really won’t be dangerous for you, right?” Bak Yerim wavered. “You definitely promise?”

“Of course,” Han Yoojin assured her. “I value my life, too, you know.”

Sneaking out of Haeyeon fortress by himself would have been a superhuman feat, but sneaking out with Bak Yerim’s aid was nothing short of effortless. The closest thing to effort that was required of him was the spectacular feat of not dropping dead of embarrassment as a teenaged girl at least a full head shorter than him picked him up like a sack of potatoes and proceeded to zip through the air as if he weighed nothing.

“Over there,” he directed. “There’s an outcropping that blocks line of sight to a small portion of the Wall. Land first, and we’ll be able to find the opening.”

Bak Yerim followed his instructions, and the two of them huddled behind the thicket of small trees as he fumbled at the white surface of the Wall. Smoothness gave way to a rough, grainy texture beneath his fingertips, and he dug in with his nails until the plaster began to chip away. A few full-bodied stomps later, the flimsy facade crumbled to reveal the small, jagged hole in the otherwise perfect Wall, just barely large enough for a single person to crawl through.

“Wow.” Bak Yerim whistled in admiration. “This has been here the whole time, and the boss never knew?”

“You mean Yoohyun?” Han Yoojin kicked aside a few pieces of loose rubble and knelt down. “He’s done an admirable job delegating the fief’s resources, so it’s not easy to tell at a glance, but in truth, Haeyeon still lacks manpower. There’s no helping that little things like this will fall through the cracks.” After inspecting the hole, he began to wriggle his shoulders through the hole, pulling himself forward on his elbows.

Their journey through the Wall was nothing like last time’s. No entourage to greet them, no shiny proper entrance, no grand opening of the gates. Just the painful stab of pebbles digging into his skin and the quiet scuffle of cloth against dirt as he crawled on hands and knees. In the end, that was the difference between him and someone like Sung Hyunjae—the vast chasm between the paths they tread.

“Sorry, Yerim,” Han Yoojin said suddenly.

“Huh? For what—blech—” She must have accidentally gotten a mouthful of dirt.

“Just, bringing you here through such an unpleasant route.”

“Oh, who cares? I’ll finally get to see the outside of the Wall! Besides,” she added with a cackle, “I bet the boss man’s head will explode when he finds out we went on a secret trip and he didn’t get to go.”

“… Let’s not worry him too much,” Han Yoojin said delicately.

The narrow crawl space soon opened up into bright blue sky, and the two of them breathed a sigh of relief as they were finally able to straighten up and dust themselves off.

“Even the air here feels different,” Bak Yerim remarked with wonder. “It’s—it feels heavier. But at the same time, I feel—energized.”

“It’s the density of the mana in the air,” Han Yoojin replied absently. The sigils on his skin were starting to warm, working to their fullest to neutralize the effects of the oppressive atmosphere. “If you focus, you should be able to sense how it moves. Like… wind on your skin, or waves underwater.”

Scrunching her nose, Bak Yerim squeezed her eyes shut in concentration. “I think I feel it,” she said uncertainly. “It’s like—it’s flowing all around me?”

“Yeah, just like that. Can you sense where there are disturbances in the mana? That would be where monsters are—and sometimes people. The greater the disturbance, the more powerful the source, usually.”

“I can sense them!” She said excitedly, with more confidence this time. “That way! A group of… something!” Opening her eyes, she pointed in a direction that looked indistinguishable from the rest.

“Let’s take a look,” Han Yoojin nodded, and the two of them set off.

It didn’t take long for them to hear the scuffle of creatures in the distance. Something rodent-like in appearance, scraggly and vicious, but nearly the height of a full-grown adult in size. A pack of them swarmed across the wide expanse of dirt, stopping every so often to devour a scrap before moving on.

“Alright! They’re mine!” Bak Yerim exclaimed.

Without waiting for a response, she darted forward, ice and frost swirling in her wake. A cacophony of loud crashes and rodent squeals later, all that was left before Han Yoojin’s eyes was a mass of rat-like corpses, shattered ice, and one triumphant-looking teenager.

“So,” she said eagerly. “How was that?”

“Really impressive,” Han Yoojin assured her. “I could barely see your attacks.”

“And?” She pressed.

“Well…” Han Yoojin scratched his cheek, then cleared his throat awkwardly. “Like I said before, you haven’t gotten quite used to monitoring your opponents yet. This one, this one, and this one for example,” he said, gesturing to a few of the corpses. “Do you see how your ice missed their vital spots? That’s because you were aiming at where they were instead of where they were going. In many cases, your attacks are strong enough that it doesn’t matter, but when dealing with quick or armored opponents, for example, you’ll need to learn to anticipate what they’ll do.”

Bak Yerim scrunched her nose. “Is that really a skill? Can mana let you read minds?”

“It’s more like pattern recognition, or knowing your opponent,” he corrected. “If someone could really read minds during combat… That’d make them quite the monster.”

As Bak Yerim nodded pensively, the two of them began the unenviable process of digging the mana crystals out of the rodents’ dripping carcasses.

“Between this and being charred beyond recognition, I might prefer the latter,” Han Yoojin muttered under his breath, polishing off yet another crystal before dumping it into the sack he carried for precisely this purpose.

“Hm?” Bak Yerim glanced at him, but he only shook his head.

The rodents were low rank monsters, so their mana stones were also low-grade, but the sheer amount of them made for a decent haul. It might not be gourmet, but Peace would have plenty to fill his belly for at least a week. They were cleaning out the last of the rodents when Bak Yerim suddenly spun around and pointed her spear in the direction of a couple of rocks nearby.

“Who’s there?!” she demanded.

Silence. After a few moments, she slammed the butt of her spear into the ground, and the earth trembled with the force of her strike. Finally, two hunched figures stumbled out from behind the rocks, looking shaken.

“W-we don’t mean any harm,” the taller of the two stammered. “We just wanted…”

They were both scrawny and covered in dirt, their clothing thin and ragged. They looked young, definitely no older than their twenties. The shorter one wore a bracer that might’ve been a low-rank armor piece, but neither of them looked particularly fitted for combat, nor did they seem to be carrying weapons. Utterly ill-suited for the harsh conditions beyond the Wall.

“… You were hoping to find some leftover mana stones here after we left,” Han Yoojin sighed. He felt a little sorry for them. It wasn’t unreasonable to conclude that he and Bak Yerim might miss a mana stone or two from among this mass of bodies, but he was confident in his technique and his years of scavenging experience. “Are you trying to sell them yourself? Or is it to pay off a debt?”

The taller one bit her lips and looked down, a humiliated flush on her cheeks. Seeing that, the shorter one offered up in a small voice, “We owe them two low-grade mana stones a day.”

It was neither a large nor a small amount. If you were lucky, even without being a fighter, you might be able to scavenge that amount just by wandering the outskirts, avoiding dangers as best you could and picking up leftovers. But every trip would be a test of your luck. Sooner or later, it was bound to run out.

“… Here,” he said wearily, pouring out a handful of mana stones into each of their hands. “Don’t come out here again in the next few days. Where is the unauthorized tunnel that you left the Wall from?”

“… Tunnel?” The shorter one tilted his head. “We didn’t come through a tunnel. The guards let us through, along with some others.

“… The guards did?” Han Yoojin frowned.

They both nodded uncertainly, and Han Yoojin’s frown deepened. It didn’t seem like they were lying.

“The debt you mentioned,” he said slowly. “Did you have to sign a contract as a guarantee?”

They nodded again. Han Yoojin sank into contemplation.

“Ahjussi?” Bak Yerim prodded.

“… It’s nothing,” he murmured. “Let’s get these kids back to the Wall.”

Kids? Bak Yerim mouthed at him with a roll of her eyes, but he chose to pretend he didn’t see it.

They weren’t that far from the Wall to start with, and with Bak Yerim as an added deterrent, they encountered no trouble on the way back. Han Yoojin and Bak Yerim watched from a distance as the two scavengers walked up to the guards—and sure enough, they were waved right through.

“What are you thinking?” Bak Yerim asked, poking him with her elbow.

“It’s strange…” Han Yoojin muttered. “Contracts and bribing guards are expensive. You usually wouldn’t do that unless it was a large-scale operation.” But Han Yoohyun would have done a sweep of the most rotten parts of Haeyeon three years ago, and before the time reset, the kingdom’s criminal elements had stayed relatively quiet until some time later.

“Should we tell the boss?” Bak Yerim asked.

“… Maybe. We need more information.” To tell Yoohyun, they would also have to explain to him how they’d gotten here, which Han Yoojin wasn’t thrilled to think about. “Let’s go feed Peace first.”

They returned the way they came, leaving the hole unobscured this time for the Haeyeon patrol to eventually find and repair. Peace had been left behind in a craggy ravine farther from the Haeyeon fortress, at least a day’s journey by foot, but a mere blink of an eye with Bak Yerim’s abilities.

“Peace,” Han Yoojin called once they’d arrived. “Where are you?”

Silence echoed around them. The soft clatter of pebbles against rock rang loud as a bell in his ears. The ravine was not only remote, but difficult to access by foot, with plenty of coverage provided by the rocky outcroppings and short brush that dotted the terrain. Was Peace napping?

“Don’t you want dinner, boy?” He called again. Still no response. Odd. Peace’s hearing should be quite good.

“Ahjussi.” Bak Yerim’s voice drifted from the other side of the ravine. “There are footprints here… I don’t recognize them.”

A feeling of unease began to curl in Han Yoojin’s gut. “Footprints?” He repeated.

Without warning, there was a dizzying blast of wind, and Bak Yerim was beside him. “Over there,” she explained, grabbing him by the arm. Another abrupt rush that left his head spinning, and then they were on the other side.

“… Hold on a bit,” he managed, grabbing a nearby ledge to steady himself. Once the vertigo had faded, he shook his head and bent down to examine the footsteps she’d pointed out.

A cluster of them, probably sturdy armored boots, if the treads were anything to go by. The wind and local fauna had disturbed many of the footprints, indicating that they were likely a few days old, but there was no shortage of footprints. Probably a fairly sizable group of people—around ten or so, at least. The footsteps indicated no particular goal or hurry, meandering this way and that. Scouting, possibly. Or merely traveling.

Following the footsteps, they found traces of an old campsite, with a now-buried makeshift fire pit and leveled-off bits of ground where tents or sleeping bags might have occupied. They were getting closer and closer to Peace’s usual favorite haunts. Han Yoojin forced his own breathing to stay steady.

“Burn marks,” Bak Yerim pointed out. Indeed, there were traces of scorched bark and branches here and there, and the footprints had started to fall into disarray. The further they went, the more obvious the signs of conflict—snapped branches and charred rock, crumbled ledges and scattered debris. Even a few tufts of orange fur and streaks of dried blood here and there, though thankfully no large volume of it.

“Do you think he’s……” Bak Yerim trailed off, her voice shaky.

“No,” Han Yoojin refuted hoarsely, even before his brain had caught up with his tongue. “Do you… Do you see his collar anywhere?”

They searched every inch of the area, but no sign of Peace’s collar emerged. It would have been frayed and tattered, a little too low-grade in both defensive properties and fire resistance to fully resist Peace’s vigorous playtimes, but sturdy enough to last a few more weeks around his neck. If the hunters who’d stumbled upon Peace had noticed the collar, they might have captured him instead of killing him. Especially if they were linked to the kingdom’s criminal underworld, where rarities of any kind sold for fortunes among the wealthy profligate.

“I shouldn’t have assumed it’d be safe here because it’s remote,” he said through gritted teeth.

He didn’t understand why these swindlers and crooks suddenly felt brave enough to start operating in Haeyeon again, but it certainly followed that they would try to keep their movements away from the public eye… stumbling into Peace’s hiding place in the process. A sharp pain in his hands reminded him that he was clenching his fists tight enough for his nails to be digging into his skin, so he forced himself to relax his hands and took a deep breath.

“Do you remember where the two people we saw outside crossed the Wall? Let’s go back there… from the inside of the Wall this time,” he decided.

Bak Yerim’s eyes widened. “Do you think they’re related to the people who took Peace?”

“There’s a chance. Even if they’re not the same group, they might have dealings if they’re this close. There might be a base of some kind there if they’re frequently bribing the guards at that entrypoint. Let’s hurry,” he urged.

The town that sat close to the entrypoint in question looked no different at first glance from the other small towns situated along the Wall.

There were few children or families—anyone who could afford to raise their family elsewhere would have already left for a safer place—and the people who wandered the streets all had a battle-hardened look to them. Mercenaries, bounty hunters, and off-duty guards—these sorts of people made up the bulk of the population in these towns. Some of the locals ran inns and taverns and shops for them to frequent, but others were here simply because there was nowhere else for them to go.

“Yerim,” Han Yoojin said slowly. “The fastest way for us to find Peace right now would be for us to move separately.

Bak Yerim looked at him questioningly, eyebrows furrowed.

“Anyone can tell from a glance that you’re at least a high-rank hunter. They’ll be on guard around you. That’s why we’ll need to split up for now.”

At that, her face contorted into a full-fledged frown. “No,” she refused. “I’m supposed to protect you.”

“I’ll light a flare if I’m in trouble,” Han Yoojin promised. Still, she shook her head stubbornly.

“By the time you get a flare lit, it might be too late,” she declared. “I’m not letting you out of my sight.”

No matter how he tried to persuade her, she refused to budge on the matter. Finally, Han Yoojin sighed, chewing at his lip as his fingers ran over the hard metal that still coiled around his arm.

“If I can prove that I’ll be fine, will you agree?” He attempted.

Bak Yerim looked at him dubiously. “Prove how?”

“You can moderate your strength well now, right? Try hitting me, with about the strength of a mid or high-rank hunter.”

Her eyebrows immediately snapped together at that. “You want me to hit you?!” She exclaimed.

“It’ll be fine,” he assured. “You’ll see. Trust me.”

She gave him a long, hard look, the crease between her eyebrows so deep that he could’ve slotted playing cards between them. He tried to return the most reassuring smile he could. Finally, her mouth twisted in a grimace.

“If you get injured even a little from this—if you’re so much as scratched—I’m taking you back immediately and telling the boss never to let you see a crack of daylight again,” she threatened.

“Isn’t that a bit—Okay, okay, okay, I promise,” Han Yoojin quickly assured, his protests dying on his tongue at her withering glare.

With a curt nod, Bak Yerim drew back her fist and swung.

He felt, rather than saw, the impact. The shock around the blow sent him staggering back a few steps, but the blow itself was fully intercepted with a gentle clink of the chains previously coiled around his arm. Just like last time, they hung as if frozen in the air, a delicate yet impenetrable barrier between him and Bak Yerim’s fist.

Han Yoojin breathed out in relief. It had been a bit of a gamble, but sure enough, that crazy bastard wouldn’t have left with zero assurance that his investment would remain safe.

“Wha—” Bak Yerim’s eyes widened. “What’s this?” As she withdrew her hand, the chains slowly unfurled in the air, slinking docilely back into place around Han Yoojin’s arm. “Some kind of super powerful defensive artifact?”

“Something like that,” Han Yoojin said vaguely. “It should be able to block even a high-rank hunter’s attack.” Probably. He wasn’t sure how effective it was without its owner wielding it, but he thought Sung Hyunjae would have left that much insurance, at least. “Do you believe I’ll be fine for long enough to light a flare now?”

Bak Yerim pursed her lips but nodded begrudgingly. “I’ll be watching from somewhere high up,” she told him. “Don’t wait to use it, okay?”

“I’ll use it right away if there’s trouble,” he assured her.

Still not looking fully assuaged, Bak Yerim left him to find a suitable vantage point. Han Yoojin found a secluded area just outside of town, then pulled out a spare set of clothes from among the travel necessities he almost always packed. The clothes he was wearing wouldn’t do—although dirty from their adventuring today, they were obviously made from fine materials at a glance. The spare set, though sturdy, was all common linens and wools.

After dressing, he double-checked his person to make sure nothing of value was visible. There wasn’t much he could do about the Seeker’s Chains, but he tucked them underneath his sleeves as best he could. Only then did he wander into town.

In his plain apparel, nobody gave him so much as a second glance. There was a strange kind of freedom to it, the dark relief of anonymity. With his head lowered, he wandered the streets, looking for signs of anything out of the ordinary. If there was anyone suspicious around, though, they blended in with the mercenaries and vagabonds, making it difficult to discern any potential leads.

Finally, his lucky break came. He spotted one of the two scavengers from earlier—the shorter one—speaking to two much better outfitted hunters in the corner of a nearby inn. The look on his face was tense, his shoulders hunched over as they spoke in brisk, hushed tones. It looked like they exchanged something, and then the scavenger left, face drawn and pale.

Han Yoojin remained out of their sight until the three had dispersed, the scavenger leaving down the street while the two hunters returned to their seats at a small table in the inn. Then, he headed to the inn counter, careful not to let his eyes wander in their direction.

“One room, please,” he said, in as small of a voice as he could muster. “Um… How much will that be?”

The innkeeper glanced at him with a mixture of pity and weariness. “Three silver,” he said shortly, then turned back to leafing through his ledgers.

With a nod, Han Yoojin began rifling through his waist pouch, making a show of taking a long time. It wasn’t entirely on purpose, either—Sung Hyunjae, that absolute maniac, hadn’t deigned to load it with anything other than solid gold coins—some that looked to be of foreign mint—and pulling something like that out when he was playing destitute would simply be absurd. After a bit of fumbling, he finally managed to find his own more modest coin pouch and retrieve the silver coins, dropping them onto the counter. When the innkeeper made to retrieve them, though, he spoke first.

“Wait,” he said quickly. “Do you know where I can find work in this town? I’ll do anything. My mother is very sick and needs medicine.” He let a tinge of desperation creep into his voice as he silently whispered a half-hearted apology to his departed mother.

The innkeeper paused with a frown, hand still outstretched, and sighed. “Look, if you came all the way here looking for work, I’d advise you to go back,” he said, not unkindly. “There’s not much here for you if you can’t at least defend yourself, and you don’t look like much of a fighter.”

Han Yoojin bit his lip. “I can’t just leave,” he persisted. “I’m used to all kinds of work. There has to be something.”

“It’s dangerous.” The innkeeper shook his head. “You don’t know what you’re getting into.”

“But—”

“Hold on there,” someone cut in from behind him. It was one of the two suspicious hunters from earlier. “Give the kid a chance, eh? We have some work that might interest you.”

At their arrival, the innkeeper tensed and shot them a dark look, but said nothing.

“I’ll take it. What kind of work?” Han Yoojin asked, every bit the eager, desperate fool.

“It’s not too hard. Mainly just… a bit of cleanup, you could say. Let’s talk a little more somewhere more private, what do you say?”

“Alright!”

The innkeeper looked like he wanted to say something more, but in the end, he remained silent.

The hunters led Han Yoojin to a nondescript building nearby, a little larger than the nearby houses, but otherwise similar enough to be any normal residence. The wooden door didn’t so much as creak as it swung open, nor did any of the floorboards make a sound. The walls and support beams also looked quite sturdy, and Han Yoojin doubted that he’d be able to make much of a dent in them even if he was to put all his strength into it. Of course, Bak Yerim would be able to make quick work of it.

The room that they led him into looked to be some kind of office space, with a single, solid desk in the middle and shelves of wooden chests lining the wall. A few oil lamps were the sole sources of light, flickering and casting shadows that jumped erratically along the walls.

What a cheap habit, Han Yoojin thought, using oil lamps instead of a mana-fueled light source in an important base. To only be willing to spend money on things like contracts and bribes that immediately impacted profits—it wasn’t uncommon to see, even among legitimate guilds or businesses, but that was why those types of organizations would forever be second-rate. Sung Hyunjae, for one, would have bought only quality-tested products from a prestigious manufacturer. Or rather, he’d probably have found some promising young business venture to bring into Seseong’s fold and cornered a piece of the market that way.

“You’re good for something other than your face, after all,” Han Yoojin muttered into the earrings.

No response.

What was the range of the earrings? Was that bastard out of reach? It couldn’t be, he’d really only come to Haeyeon for business in the past, so he’d been swept away by all the sightseeing? Well, that was forgivable, since Haeyeon was truly the best, but for some reason, Han Yoojin was still a bit irritated. As payback, he would just have to rob Sung Hyunjae of all of the local specialty snacks he must’ve collected as souvenirs by now. Among other things.

“What did you say?” One of the hunters leading him turned back.

“Nothing.” Han Yoojin cleared his throat and asked innocently, “What is this place? Is this where I’ll be working?”

“No, this is just for us to sign a contract, since we’ll be working together,” the first hunter explained in a patient voice.

As he spoke, he opened one of the chests and pulled out an unsigned contract sheet. The rest of the chests were likely filled with papers, too, then. Perhaps signed contracts, and possibly even other important documents. The building was small enough that they might be keeping them all in one place.

“Your actual job will be to look for mana stones and other such things,” the hunter continued. “You’ve heard that there’s lots of valuables just outside the wall, right? It’s a waste to leave them there, but there’s not enough people to search such a wide area.” The hunter smiled with a well-rehearsed kindness as he slid the contract across the desk. “This contract is to make your daily pay official. Five silver a day, but you can earn as much as ten if you bring a lot.”

Five to ten silver a day? It might sound passable to someone who didn’t understand, but the dangers of the job notwithstanding, even the lowest-grade mana stone was worth at least one gold piece. Han Yoojin scanned the terms of the contract. As expected, it was something along the lines of finding two mana stones a day, turning over all profits, and not being allowed to return from the Wall until he did.

“It’s all standard stuff, so hurry up and sign,” the hunter urged, upon seeing that he actually seemed to be reading the contract. “We’re busy people, you know?”

“Oh, sorry. It’s just… I heard mana stones were rare and expensive? Is it really possible to find two a day? And wouldn’t I get more if I just sold them myself?”

The hunter snatched back the contract, looking irritated. “Do you think you could even find a way across the Wall without us? Let alone find people to buy all these stones? Look, if you don’t want to sign, then find work elsewhere.”

“No, no, I’ll sign,” Han Yoojin said quickly, holding out his hand.

He didn’t so much as glance at the text of the contract this time as he put the tip of his pen to the paper and scrawled his signature across it. As soon as his name was on the contract, the hunters on the other side of the table relaxed visibly.

“One more thing,” Han Yoojin continued. “If you know where to sell mana stones, you’re connected to a lot of markets, right? By chance, I found something valuable, but I’m afraid of getting cheated for the price, so I haven’t been able to sell it…”

He didn’t miss how the hunters’ eyes glimmered with greed. “Oh?” The first hunter said with interest. “What is it?”

“A dragon egg. I heard there are some rich nobles who like to keep monsters as pets, and things like that.”

“An egg?” The first hunter didn’t even bother to downplay his interest now. “Of course, we can find a way to sell something like that. It will be tough to find a buyer, though, since it’s so dangerous to keep a monster. We’ll likely have to reach out to nobles in Breaker or even farther, and there will be middleman’s fees. But we’ll be able to get you at least a few gold coins.” He had an air to his voice like he was expecting gratitude in response.

“Wow, not just silver, but gold?!” Han Yoojin obliged him happily. What a joke. A few gold coins, for an intact dragon egg? Do you know how hard it was to find an infant monster in the wild? Even if they couldn’t control it, there was no shortage of nobles who liked to keep around exotic things as pets in their menageries. Sung Hyunjae, for one—ah, that guy would probably find even a baby dragon to be too mundane, though.

Still, the hunter’s answer proved that they had at least a little familiarity with the process of selling monsters. The odds that they’d taken Peace were higher than ever.

“So, where is the dragon egg? Give it to us, and we’ll get it appraised.” The first hunter held out his hand expectantly.

“I don’t have it with me,” Han Yoojin explained. “I left it in a safe hiding place, since I was afraid of being robbed. I can bring it tomorrow, though.”

“Fine,” the first hunter said, sounding irritated. “Don’t forget. I’ll add it to the terms of the contract.” With a few quick scribbles, the terms of handing the egg over were added, and the both of them signed again. The first hunter took the contract and got up from the seat to unlock another one of the file chests, stuffing the newly signed contract inside.

While the first hunter’s back was turned, Han Yoojin reached into an inner pocket of his shirt for the vial of poison that had previously inhabited his coat lining and uncapped it silently under the table. With his other hand, he reached for the oil lamp on the table, peering inside curiously. “What a fancy lamp,” he said, every inch the ignorant country bumpkin. “This isn’t magic, too, is it?”

The two hunters ignored him. Without a moment’s pause, he raised the uncapped vial to the oil lamp and poured its meager contents inside.

“Hey, what—” Noticing his unusual movements, the second hunter finally frowned and began to walk over. In a few brisk strides, he’d already crossed the distance of the room and yanked Han Yoojin out of his seat, but it was far too late. The small flame in the oil lamp crackled and fizzed, consuming the colorless liquid that had been poured into it.

Within seconds, the two hunters began to cough violently, letting go of Han Yoojin to clutch at their throats. A few heartbeats later, two heavy thumps one after another accompanied the fall of their bodies to the wooden floorboards.

Pushing himself upright, Han Yoojin made his way to their bodies to check their pulses. Faint, but steady. As expected, they were both too strong for the poison to be lethal. They would awaken in a weakened state within the hour, maybe less if either of them were resistant to poison.

Was that enough time to find traces of Peace? Should he slit their throats to buy some more time? They were the lowest of the low, preying on the poor and desperate, so his conscience didn’t even twinge. But disposing of them would also be time-consuming, and there was no telling if they had more allies on the way. And besides.

“You’re lucky I have a kid with me,” he muttered. “It’s not that I’m trying to shield her from knowing about these kinds of things, but, well. As an adult, I have to be a role model, at least a little, right? I can’t have her thinking that violence solves everything.”

Especially since she had just awakened, and she was still at the age when she was fairly impressionable. Living with a bunch of high-rank hunters… Mm, it was likely she’d already picked up some bad habits when it came to picking fights.

Making up his mind, Han Yoojin first retrieved his freshly-signed contract from the chest and ripped it in half. The curse prickled ineffectually against his skin as he burned the pieces of the paper in the tiny oil lamp.

Next, he began to rifle through the contents of the chest for anything mentioning monster sales or fire manticores. This chest just seemed to be full of signed contracts, though, so he put it aside and used the key still sticking out of the lock to open the next one.

Some of the chests had more dust collected around the edges than others, so he looked for the ones that looked recently disturbed. Bak Yerim had fed Peace less than a week ago, so they couldn’t have taken him any longer ago than that. After setting down yet another stack of blank contracts, he finally found a box of what looked like receipts.

Juvenile fire beast, one of the receipts wrote. The handwriting was difficult to decipher, but the word Breaker and the amount of one thousand gold coins was legible enough.

Han Yoojin’s fingers clenched. Sure enough… In this timeline, Breaker was having problems with illicit trade activity, too? Though it seemed to be much sooner than last time.

A muffled groan behind him snapped his attention back. He shoved the piece of paper inside his pocket and grabbed the oil lamp, running for the door. One of the hunters had collapsed near the exit, though, and as he ran past, a hand shot out to grab at his ankle.

He tumbled to the ground, the oil lamp spilling from his grasp. With the lamp overturned and sputtering weakly on the floor, he didn’t know how much longer the flame would last. The flare, the flare… he thought urgently, fumbling to pull it out of his pocket. With the lamp wick’s dying flame, he managed to light it, and it rocketed brightly into the ceiling with an ear-splitting bang. The flare hadn’t made it out of the building, but he trusted that Bak Yerim would be able to hear the sound or see the light from the windows.

Indeed, as if on cue, a thunderous crash echoed throughout the structure. A blinding flash of light and a guttural scream later, the hunter who’d first stirred was back on the ground, the floorboards around him singed from the lightning that had struck him.

Han Yoojin looked up, dumbfounded.

Sung Hyunjae gave him a dazzling smile in return.

“Why is it you?! What are you doing here?”

“Well,” Sung Hyunjae said mildly, “I was curious, so I went looking for a cat. But it seems I’ve found a little bird, instead.”

Chapter Text

Han Yoojin opened his mouth to say something, but before he could get any words out, a young girl’s voice rang out.

“Ahh! Cheater!! That wasn’t the flare at all!”

Not a second later, the walls of the building splintered and burst, showering the two of them with dust and rubble as the girl broke through the walls, spearpoint-first.

Bak Yerim, the rookie elite, Haeyeon’s miraculous new find.

Miraculous, huh?

Sung Hyunjae’s eyes flickered toward Han Yoojin briefly, then back at the spear now being brandished angrily in his face.

“Who are you?! Get away from ahjussi! Don’t take a single step closer, or I’ll call the b—the duke of Haeyeon and make sure you never make it out of here!”

Instead of responding, Sung Hyunjae merely continued to smile beatifically. Instead, it was Han Yoojin who scrambled to his feet and put his fragile body solidly between Sung Hyunjae and Bak Yerim’s spear.

“Wait, wait, Yerim, put that away,” he blurted out, pushing gingerly at the spear. “Let’s talk properly, first, what happened? Um, he’s got a bad personality, I know, but he’s—we’re—that is, um, that’s the duke of Seseong, okay?”

If the point of the spear began to slide ever so slowly away from Sung Hyunjae’s face, then it would only be because the girl was allowing it. Despite lowering her spear, Bak Yerim’s eyes remained narrowed, though the set of her mouth now looked more indignant than genuinely hostile.

“He tricked me!” She accused. “He distracted me! Otherwise I would have been here first, ahjussi! Really!” She stared at Han Yoojin with wide, mournful puppy dog eyes.

“You…” Speechless, Han Yoojin turned to look at Sung Hyunjae with exasperation. “Must you keep bickering with children?”

Sung Hyunjae shrugged his shoulders innocently. “Was there such a thing? I merely provided some advice. ‘Don’t be distracted by the brightest thing you see.’ Miss Yerim, you’ll suffer on the battlefield if you allow a flash of lightning to distract you from your goal.”

“Argh—You’re right, but—Even so—” Bak Yerim gnashed her teeth, dissatisfied.

Han Yoojin smiled helplessly. “Don’t listen to him, Yerim. Well, it is good advice, but you’re already doing very well. Your instincts will naturally sharpen as you get more experience.”

“Ugh—In other words, this is also ‘experience,’ isn’t it?” Bak Yerim grumbled, but she reluctantly put away her spear.

Han Yoojin’s shoulders relaxed visibly, and he turned his attention back to Sung Hyunjae. “What you said earlier—don’t tell me, you’re here to look for Peace, too?”

Sung Hyunjae tilted his head. “‘Peace’?” He echoed. “If that’s the name of your pet cat, then I suppose that fits the bill.”

“Yes, yes, he’s orange, very cute and fluffy, he makes things burn when he’s excited or upset, and he’s this big.” Han Yoojin held his hands up to gesture, a hopeful note creeping into his voice. He glanced up to meet Sung Hyunjae’s eyes almost tentatively. “You didn’t happen to find him, did you? He was sold, but—it couldn’t have been…?”

Sung Hyunjae shook his head ruefully. “I wasn’t the buyer. I haven’t found him. I’m sorry.” It was a rare apology that crossed his lips, and he was almost surprised to find that he meant every ounce of it, too. Especially when Han Yoojin’s face fell, and he lowered his eyes.

“I see,” he exhaled.

Powerless. Just how long had it been since he, Sung Hyunjae, had last felt powerless?

“He was sold to someone in Breaker, then,” Han Yoojin continued, pulling a crumpled piece of paper out of his pocket. “They’ve detailed the time and amount of the transaction, but not the name of the buyer. It was two days ago, so there’s a high chance Peace has already been transported there, if not sold again already.”

“Breaker…” Sung Hyunjae said contemplatively. “I had Evelyn Miller and Kang Soyoung start investigating places with recent reports of illegal monster trading. Breaker’s border was indeed among that list.”

“Then that’s where I’ll go next,“ Han Yoojin said decisively. “Yerim, you can contact Yoohyun, right? Ask him to bring a squad here to take care of this.” He gestured to the rest of the building… now littered with debris. “There are some low-rank contracts in the office that need to be broken with a mid-rank or higher curse-breaking ability, and some documents and receipts that might serve as leads for other illegal activity nearby.”

Bak Yerim nodded and pulled out a communication artifact. The duke of Haeyeon arrived in no time at all, flanked by a small entourage.

Despite having already witnessed it before, it never ceased to amaze to see Han Yoohyun like this.

Sung Hyunjae recalled his interactions with the duke of Haeyeon in the past—brief and dull. The unique conditions of his succession had piqued Sung Hyunjae’s curiosity for a time, but as soon as they’d spoken, duke to duke, Sung Hyunjae had felt his interest begin to wane. Because, fundamentally, they were of the same breed—not because of their strength, or their titles, but because—they both looked at the world as if it held no color, no light that could catch their eye.

And yet, what was this?

“Hyung,” Han Yoohyun said—whined, almost—sullenly. “Why did you leave the fortress?”

Han Yoojin cleared his throat uncomfortably. “Sorry, Yoohyun. I realized there was something I needed to look for. But I’ve been well-guarded, see?” He gestured emphatically at Sung Hyunjae and Bak Yerim.

Han Yoohyun’s eyes flickered upwards and met Sung Hyunjae’s for just the briefest of moments. A raging inferno burned within—dissatisfaction, anger, worry, fear. But in the next moment, he lowered his eyes again, tamping down the flames.

How curious. Since when had it become the nature of fire to suppress itself?

“Kim Sunghan, collect the documents from the office and sweep the area for any other suspicious individuals or items,” Han Yoohyun ordered. “Take them back to Seok Simyeong for examination.”

With a bow, the tall, muscled man among his retainers gathered up the rest of the squad and departed. Han Yoohyun turned back to Han Yoojin, stretching out a hand.

“The others will take care of this place. Are you hurt anywhere, hyung? Let’s go back.”

“No, I’m not hurt. Actually, Yoohyun…” Han Yoojin hesitated, biting his lip. “I can’t go back right now. Something… There’s something I have to do.”

Han Yoohyun’s hand was left dangling in midair.

“Something you have… to do?” He echoed.

Han Yoojin nodded.

“As I thought… Hyung, you don’t want to live together anymore? Do you find it hard to think of Haeyeon as your home now, after all?” Han Yoohyun said haltingly, shoulders drooping.

“No, that’s not true!” Han Yoojin exclaimed. Rushing forward, he clasped his younger brother’s still-outstretched hand. “I wish we could live together again like before, more than anything. But—there’s also the future to think about. That’s why I can’t stay, just yet. There are things I still have to do.”

“Then tell me what they are, at least,” Han Yoohyun persisted. “Let me help. We can send other hunters. Do you have to be the one to go?”

Han Yoojin’s fingers trembled visibly against his brother’s, but nonetheless, his voice was firm. “… Yes,” He answered. “It has to be me. I’ll… tell you more soon, Yoohyun, I promise.”

“Hyung…”

Han Yoojin’s other hand reached out, fingers locking around Han Yoojin’s wrist, grip tightening ever so slightly. For a moment, Sung Hyunjae almost expected him to refuse to let go. Surely, his instincts must be screaming at him to do so—to tie down his greatest treasure, to lock it up, to engulf it, to burn it all clean away—

But that moment never came.

Instead, Han Yoojin’s fingers traced around his shoulder to pat the back of his head soothingly. “You’re the best little brother I could ever ask for,” he said softly. “When I get back. Let’s eat lunch together in gardens again, and sneak into town like we used to.”

Han Yoohyun’s grip clenched once, twice. Then, with great difficulty, as if it were as strenuous as shaking off the weight of a mountain, he pulled back. “… Take Bak Yerim, at least,” he said in a strained voice.

“Yerim?” Han Yoojin asked. “But, won’t she be needed—”

“Please,” Han Yoohyun insisted. “I need to know you’re protected.”

Hesitating, Han Yoojin glanced at Bak Yerim, who flashed them a thumbs up and a mouthed, No problem! Finally, Han Yoojin nodded in reluctant acquiescence. Even then, Han Yoohyun didn’t budge, clinging to his brother with a childish melancholy until Han Yoojin smiled wryly and ruffled his hair mercilessly.

“What will the others in your squad say when their leader is the one who refuses to leave? I called you away so suddenly, there must be more responsibilities waiting for you back at the castle.”

Only after that admonishment did Han Yoohyun finally, begrudgingly gather up his men and return. Han Yoojin’s eyes followed them until they disappeared into the now darkening horizon, only sliding back to look at Bak Yerim and Sung Hyunjae’s after all trace of their silhouettes had vanished.

“Yerim, we should try to cover as much ground as we can before it’s completely dark,” Han Yoojin exhaled. His expression was a bit conflicted as he turned to Sung Hyunjae, but his words were as decisive as always. “Your Grace, it looks like we’ll be parting ways. I would show you to the door, but—” He glanced at where Yerim’s explosive entry had left little more than support beams and broken timber standing—“There doesn’t seem to be one left.”

Sung Hyunjae cocked his head. “What to do? I’m not sure I can hold back tears of sorrow at the thought of our parting. Especially with such an unsatisfactory farewell.”

Han Yoojin rolled his eyes. “Which part was unsatisfactory? I’m sorry, but our agency doesn’t give out complimentary snacks as part of our service package.”

“That would be unnecessary. But I thought you would at least cling to me a little and comfort me, like you did with the duke of Haeyeon. Otherwise, isn’t it favoritism?”

“Of course it’s favoritism,” Han Yoojin answered without hesitation. “He’s my cute little brother, after all. But in light of our ongoing collaborative relationship, I suppose I can at least shake your hand goodbye.”

He held out his hand expectantly, but rather than taking it, Sung Hyunjae only eyed him contemplatively for a few seconds. Then, without warning, the chains still wound around Han Yoojin’s forearm shot into Sung Hyunjae’s waiting palm, yanking the rest of Han Yoojin’s body forward along with them. Sung Hyunjae caught him neatly by the waist with his other hand, bending down so that his lips were pressed nearly flush to Han Yoojin’s ears.

“Ahjussi!” Yerim cried in alarm, taking a step instinctively, but Han Yoojin waved her back without so much as turning his head.

“This is a pretty demanding farewell,” Han Yoojin muttered stiffly. “Don’t blame me if you get billed extra for this stunt later.” From his vantage point, Sung Hyunjae could see the way the muscles of his neck tensed, the way he strained to keep perfectly still.

“All this talk of farewells,” Sung Hyunjae murmured against his skin in a voice too low for even Bak Yerim to hear, “makes me think that I’ve left too much slack in your leash as of late. Or have you forgotten your position? My lovely, protected eyewitness.”

He felt more than saw Han Yoojin let out a slow breath, squirming in his solid hold until they were face to face.

“I’m going to Breaker,” Han Yoojin said evenly. “That’s not negotiable.”

“That was not the question I asked.” Sung Hyunjae’s predatory smile was one that any of his team members would have run screaming from.

A furrow appeared between Han Yoojin’s brows as he scanned Sung Hyunjae’s face with contemplation. “If you come to Breaker, you’ll be able to meet my pet cat,” he said probingly. “If you’re good, maybe he’ll even do a trick for you. And besides, the situation in Breaker should concern you as well. No one will benefit if the Wall is weakened.”

Sung Hyunjae’s grin widened ever so slightly. “Better,” he allowed. “But I’m looking for—what was it you said—a little ‘sincerity.’ Of course, my material conditions aren’t lacking in the least, so expressing it in words will suffice, young lord Yoojin.”

Han Yoojin shot him a look so withering that it could have killed Choi Sukwon all on its own. “Your Grace,” he ground out, in a voice so cloying it could be used to sweeten milk, “Your most handsomest, cleverest, strongest, most perverted, annoying Grace. Won’t you consider coming along to Breaker? I hear it’s an excellent environment for convalescing elders. Pleease. ” At Sung Hyunjae’s raised eyebrows, he irritably tacked on the last word in a petulant, sing-song note.

“Of course, I’ll come,” Sung Hyunjae said silkily. Tugging at Han Yoojin’s wrist lightly by the chain, Sung Hyunjae bent his head and kissed the fine-boned knuckles of those fingers. “How could I refuse my dear investment?”

Despite Han Yoojin’s insistence on setting out early, when confronted with the argument that resting for the night and using a teleportation spell to get to Breaker would be faster—and more considerate for the young lady—he finally acquiesced to stay the night at the inn Sung Hyunjae had been occupying.

“Of course it would turn out that you own the inn, too,” Han Yoojin grumbled.

Sung Hyunjae let a smile dance upon his lips. “Naturally. It’s always more reassuring to have ownership of something.”

Han Yoojin rolled his eyes. “So, explain why our room arrangements turned out like this.” He gestured emphatically at the suite they were both occupying.

Sung Hyunjae raised an eyebrow. “Surely you wouldn’t argue that the young lady deserves her own room?”

“Of course not. I’m wondering why Your Grace doesn’t consider himself worthy of the same,” Han Yoojin retorted. Despite his complaints, the suite was large enough to be separated into two distinct bedrooms and a parlor area, so the protest sounded more like idle grumbling than anything else—underlined by the fact that, rather than retiring to one of the bedrooms, he sank into one of the plush sofas of the parlor, pulling out the receipt he’d scavenged to investigate once again.

Sung Hyunjae let out an exaggerated sigh. “Isn’t it because I worry so dearly after young lord Yoojin? Even back at Seseong, there was no shortage of thieves trying to enter in the night to steal your heart.” Han Yoojin didn’t so much as blink as Sung Hyunjae settled into the seat beside him, a good deal closer than decorum would allow.

“Your Grace, excessive worrying will lead to premature graying,” Han Yoojin informed him absently. “Don’t blame me if Your Grace gets rejected in the future for looking older than your age.”

Sung Hyunjae flashed him a smile that showed his pointed teeth. “Then young lord Yoojin will simply have to take responsibility when the time comes.”

“That’s too heavy of a burden for my humble self. Your Grace might consider retirement back to Seseong to ease my troubles.”

“What a fine suggestion. Though, I am surprised.” The tone of Sung Hyunjae’s voice suddenly took on a sharp edge. Han Yoojin must have sensed the change, because he lowered the paper in his hands and looked up inquiringly. The next moment, Sung Hyunjae’s hand had been placed onto the armrest beside him, caging him in quite thoroughly. “I had expected young lord Yoojin to be the one to insist on returning to Haeyeon for the night,” Sung Hyunjae said, slowly and deliberately.

Han Yoojin’s eyes widened minutely before he looked away, taking shelter in the crevice of the sofa’s backrest. “I didn’t realize Your Grace minded the extra lodging fees so much,” he deflected with a dry laugh.

“I’m quite hurt that the young lord continues to doubt my generosity.” Gently but firmly, Sung Hyunjae’s fingers hooked underneath Han Yoojin’s chin and tipped it upwards until his face had nowhere left to hide. “I merely wonder what could have pulled you away from your beloved brother and home.”

After his final syllable fell, only the sound of breathing remained between them, Han Yoojin’s chest rising and falling in shallow, strained strokes, as if he feared that even breathing too heavily might lead him to let the wrong words slip from his lips. Sung Hyunjae let his vision wander to those very lips, running the pad of his thumb in small circles over the pink flesh, soft and a little dry.

“Unless, should I assume that it was the attraction of my company that drew you away?”

Annoyance flashed across Han Yoojin’s features. Holding Sung Hyunjae’s gaze with a fierce glare, his jaws snapped shut, hard, biting down on the errant thumb with all his strength.

It didn’t hurt at all. It barely tickled. If anything, it only poked at those dark, roiling urges that Sung Hyunjae had no intentions of unsealing yet.

Rather than admonishment, amusement pulled at the corners of his mouth as he pushed his thumb forward into the wet warmth that it had now been granted access to—though that had surely not been the original intent. He traced the neat row of teeth still trying to dig into his flesh and probed the squishy flesh of that misbehaving tongue. Wrapped around his thumb, Han Yoojin’s mouth was so small—small enough that a single digit nearly sufficed to stuff it full. The further he probed, the more the annoyance on Han Yoojin’s face melted away bit by bit, replaced by a rising flush and increasingly rough breaths.

When Sung Hyunjae reached the back of his mouth, his throat began to convulse angrily at the unrelenting intrusion. Dampness gathered at the corners of his eyes as he dug his head farther into the backrest in a subconscious struggle to escape, arching his back upwards and pressing his delicate frame firmly into Sung Hyunjae’s chest. Only when a choked, stuttering whimper leaked out did Sung Hyunjae finally withdraw his hand, watching Han Yoojin collapse back into the sofa, gulping down deep breaths.

“Bastard,” Han Yoojin gasped. “Don’t you know you’re supposed to wine and dine someone when you want something from them?”

Sung Hyunjae drew back a little to give him room to recover, rubbing his index finger and thumb together pensively. “But, I recall that I’ve already done so?” He remarked.

Han Yoojin shot him a baleful look through the messy bangs that had fallen into disarray over his eyes, and Sung Hyunjae brushed the strands carefully back into place. “Be good,” he coaxed. “I had Evelyn Miller compile information about the monster trade in Breaker. Answer the question, and I’ll tell you.”

Chewing on his still reddened and glistening lips, Han Yoojin eyed him shrewdly. Finally, he closed his eyes and turned his head aside with a soft exhale, revealing the tender curve of his throat. “There’s not much to say,” he mumbled. “Haeyeon is… My memories of raising Yoohyun are the best I have from there.” He lapsed into silence for a moment, his already quiet voice lowering even more. “…They might be the only good memories I have from there.”

Sung Hyunjae didn’t respond, instead continuing to neaten his disheveled locks with smooth, gentle strokes.

Han Yoojin’s eyes fluttered open again. “Even if you ask me, I don’t know what to think, either…. and Yoohyun is sharp. If he notices…”

“If he notices?”

Han Yoojin didn’t speak. Finally, he shook his head. “I don’t know. Anyways, that’s it, really. So now it’s your turn. Cough up.”

Sung Hyunjae observed him in silence for a while. Had he ever encountered a challenge as difficult as pulling answers from Han Yoojin’s stubborn teeth? Yet perhaps what rankled most was that when he thought of all the ways available to him to do so—threatening him with the young lady or his little brother’s safety, or even pinning him down right now until he had no choice but to sing—there was a corner of his mind that held him back.

Perhaps, he was reluctant to break his new toy so soon?

Regardless of the reason, he drew back and settled lazily into his seat. “The black market in Breaker has always been thriving, but recently, some of its players have banded together to hold what they advertise as a spectacle the likes of which have never been seen before. They call it the Auction.”

“… The Auction?” Han Yoojin asked with a frown. “They’re collecting monsters to sell?”

“Not only monsters. Rare weapons, valuable artifacts, and… people.”

“People?!” Han Yoojin echoed incredulously.

“Indeed.” The corners of Sung Hyunjae’s mouth pulled down in distaste. “The previous king was fond of roaches, you see. Birds of a feather, as they say.”

“… And Breaker’s vassals don’t listen to their duke,” Han Yoojin said glumly. “But why are they suddenly becoming so active now? Don’t tell me, it’s because the king…?”

“Even if Choi Sukwon was a pathetic king, nevertheless, a king he was. But when the cat is away, the mice come out to play.” Sung Hyunjae smiled dangerously. “Simply sending them scurrying back to their nests would be too kind, don’t you think?”

Han Yoojin looked him up and down in contemplation. “Are you speaking as ‘Sung Hyunjae,’ or the future king?”

Sung Hyunjae tilted his head. “It depends on what my investment is asking.”

“Well, then, let me lay out my point of view first,” Han Yoojin said matter-of-factly, holding up a finger. “One, you wouldn’t have found out about this so soon without my involvement. And two,”—he held up another finger—“you want my help in cleaning it up. After all, if this was something that could be solved simply by sending in Seseong or Breaker’s forces, there would be no reason for us—in particular, for you, the esteemed duke of Seseong—to be heading there in person. Isn’t that right?”

Sung Hyunjae raised his eyebrows in theatrical surprise. “I am wounded that you refuse to believe my sincere desire to help you. Are our goals not aligned here?”

“This and that are different matters,” Han Yoojin refuted. “I can rescue Peace in any number of ways. If they’re planning to auction him as a centerpiece, he won’t be hard to find. But taking down an entire criminal operation is well outside the amount of risk I intended to undertake.”

That drew a soft chuckle from Sung Hyunjae’s lips. Indeed, his investment never ceased to delight.

“Let’s say I agree with that premise,” Sung Hyunjae said, crossing his legs and resting his chin in one hand. “What would be the price for your cooperation?”

As if gathering up his courage, Han Yoojin’s hands clenched and unclenched upon his knees. Then, he looked Sung Hyunjae directly in the eye and spoke, voice unwavering.

“Seseong’s hunters. After the Auction has been taken care of, for three days, give me full, unquestioned command of Seseong’s hunters. No matter how absurd the order sounds.”

Chapter Text

Like Haeyeon, the other end of the teleport to Breaker was set up in one of its garrisons a few hours away from the fortress. Sung Hyunjae must have gotten approval from the duke of Breaker in order to use it, so Han Yoojin wasn’t surprised at the fact that she knew of their arrival. He was surprised, however, when the light from the teleportation circle cleared, revealing the person herself, leaning relaxedly against her spear as she waited for their arrival.

Duke Breaker, Moon Hyuna.

Even from afar, she had always cut an imposing figure, her tall stature and confident posture highlighting her bold, efficient movements. Her muscles rippled in the dim light as she straightened up, punctuating her greeting with an effortless twirl of her spear.

“Yo, Seseong,” she said with a grin, the impact of her spear slamming into the stone floor reverberating off the walls. “Ready for another match?”

“Unfortunately, we’re here on urgent business this time,” Sung Hyunjae said regretfully.

“Business, huh? You brought some cute little things with you.” Moon Hyuna closed the distance in a few long strides, peering curiously at Bak Yerim and Han Yoojin. “Who’re these?”

“Bak Yerim, Your Grace!” Bak Yerim said promptly, back straightening even more.

“Oh my, Haeyeon’s new rookie? Aren’t you a darling? Won’t you consider coming with me, instead?” Moon Hyuna pinched Bak Yerim’s cheek, eliciting a quiet giggle, before turning to Han Yoojin. “And you?”

He hesitated for a moment, settling on a bow consistent with his status as a commoner. “Han Yoojin, Your Grace.”

The gesture evidently caught her off-guard. She glanced at Sung Hyunjae, eyebrows furrowed in confusion. “What’s the meaning of… Huh? Han… Han Yoojin… Why does that name…” After muttering to herself for a few seconds, her eyes lit up. “Ah! The Haeyeon kid’s brother, aren’t you?”

Han Yoojin nodded stiffly.

“Hey, no way? You don’t look anything like him.” She bent down until they were eye level, squinting as she examined his face. “No, I guess the features are similar, but the air is completely different. Wow, big bro, I don’t think I’ve ever gotten a proper look at you before. I didn’t expect you to be so adorable!”

Her hand reached out, probably to touch his face, but before it could, Han Yoojin felt a tug on his shoulder, and the world suddenly seemed to spin off-balance. He ended up crashing into Sung Hyunjae’s firm, broad chest.

He was about to open his mouth to complain, but as soon as his vision came back into focus, his attention was distracted by Moon Hyuna’s flabbergasted face. Her eyes boggled as she stared at Han Yoojin—ah, no, was it at the hand still resting on his shoulder?

“No way—Seseong, you absolute bastard,” she exhaled, sounding profoundly scandalized. “Did you lay a hand on an unawakened?”

“It’s not like that!” Han Yoojin blurted out in horror.

“Mind what you say,” Sung Hyunjae warned, an unusual chill in his voice.

Moon Hyuna’s eyebrows shot up so far that they nearly disappeared into her hair, but other than a very slow nod of her head, she didn’t say anything further.

“The southern border,” Han Yoojin spoke up impatiently. “That’s where the Auction is being held. Duke Breaker, are you aware of the changes happening there? You must have noticed the increase in activity along the Wall, at least.”

At that, Moon Hyuna’s expression became serious, and she looked Sung Hyunjae up and down. “So that’s what you’re here for. Like I’ve said before, though, I don’t want your help getting my vassals in line.”

Sung Hyunjae’s returning smile was frigid. “Then you should have ensured that your problems remained within your borders. Now that others have been dragged into your mess, you no longer have the right to dictate how I intervene.”

Moon Hyuna snorted. “Well, don’t you have a stick up your ass today? Just tell me what you lost, and I’ll get it back for you, happy?”

Sung Hyunjae’s mood showed no signs of improving. Before he could open his mouth again, Han Yoojin quickly cut in. “Your Grace!”

Both dukes in the room looked toward him.

Pinching the bridge of his nose, he sighed and clarified, “Duke Breaker.”

Was it his imagination, or had Sung Hyunjae’s grip on his shoulder become a fraction heavier?

Han Yoojin ignored him and continued. “The goal of our operation is to eradicate the players involved in the Auction by the roots. Of course, that includes obtaining information about who they are and what illicit dealings they’ve been involved in. I can’t promise that all of the vassals who oppose you are within their ranks, but I would imagine that it would be no small number. We can cede to you the power to deal with any subjects of Breaker implicated by our investigation.”

Moon Hyuna eyed him with interest. The duke of Breaker had struggled to get her vassals in line since before her ascension. And unlike Han Yoohyun, she had to be wary of wiping them out with impunity—the southern end of Breaker bordered the foreign powers to the south, which meant that a weakened front would simply invite trouble on the border. Nor could she simply steamroll her vassals politically, since a number of them rivaled or even surpassed House Breaker itself in wealth. Such was the chaotic legacy that Moon Hyuna had inherited.

“Is that right?” Moon Hyuna’s gaze slid to Sung Hyunjae. “You’ll really let me do as I wish with them?”

“If young lord Yoojin says so,” he answered coolly.

“Huh.” Moon Hyuna folded her arms in contemplation. “And what do you want in return?”

“First, Your Grace’s complete cooperation during the investigation,” Han Yoojin stated. “And second, ownership of all goods seized at the Auction will be handled jointly by Duke Seseong and I.”

“Ha!” Moon Hyuna let out a bark of laughter. “So, you plan to walk away with all the spoils? If I march in right now with a squad of hunters, wouldn’t it all belong to Breaker, anyways?”

“Would Your Grace be able to find the location without an invitation?” Han Yoojin pointed out. “Besides, even if you found it, if you simply marched in, the true ringleaders would just cut their losses and run away. You might get a few valuables, but your control over your territory would be no greater than before. In fact, some of your vassals might become more hostile toward you—whether because of their disappointment you weren’t able to get more substantial results from the raid, or because they themselves had a stake in the Auction. Rather than the goods, keeping the evidence is the better deal for you.”

Moon Hyuna seemed to be considering his words as her fingers drummed along her arm. Finally, she let out an exaggerated sigh and shook her head. “I hate to say it, but I can’t argue with that. Alright, then. You’ve got yourself a deal.”

Han Yoojin nodded. “Then, aside from that…”

He snuck a glance at Sung Hyunjae, but he hadn’t expected Sung Hyunjae’s gaze to be focused on him already. For a moment, their eyes met, before he quickly cleared his throat and turned back to Moon Hyuna as casually as possible.

“Actually, Duke Breaker, Your Grace,” he rushed out. “I have a… private matter I’d also like to discuss with you. Separately.” He’d learned better than to look back at Sung Hyunjae a second time.

“Private, huh? As a matter of fact, I have a little something I’d like to say to you as well. You don’t mind, do you, Seseong?” Moon Hyuna said with amusement, cocking her head as she stared at Sung Hyunjae.

“Of course not. I’m well accustomed to the young lord’s myriad secrets.” The pointedness of his voice made Han Yoojin’s skin prickle. So he was suspicious, after all. But it was hardly the first time Han Yoojin had acted suspiciously around him. What was one more drop in the bucket? There was no evidence for him to go off of, anyways.

The heavy hand on Han Yoojin’s shoulder didn’t disappear immediately. Rough fingers traced toward the back of his neck, kneading there gently and sending a shiver down his spine that he had to lock his limbs in place to conceal. Then, they carded lightly into his hair with a light tug before pulling away, leaving only the illusion of a slight chill from the newfound absence of body heat.

“Go on, then.”

Han Yoojin staggered forward as if released from a spell. As soon as he was a few paces away from Sung Hyunjae, a gust of wind suddenly rose up between them, thoroughly encircling him and Moon Hyuna. Through the debris and whirling gales, he could only make out the hazy edges of Sung Hyunjae and Bak Yerim’s silhouettes.

“The wind will prevent any sound from escaping.” Moon Hyuna’s voice, on the other hand, remained clear as day. “It’s about as private as you can expect here. Well, let me go first, then, how about it?” Folding her arms, she looked Han Yoojin up and down. “So, give it to me straight. Seseong and Haeyeon… Are they picking some sort of fight with each other?”

Han Yoojin’s eyebrows drew together as he attempted to puzzle out the intentions behind her question. It was true that Han Yoohyun and Sung Hyunjae had seemed unusually at odds the other day, but it was hardly new for the dukes to be bickering amongst themselves. Cautiously, he answered with a slow nod.

Moon Hyuna let out a long sigh in response. “So that’s how it is. I don’t really want to get wrapped up in more problems than I need to right now, but it wouldn’t sit right with me to turn a blind eye now that it’s on my doorstep.” She scratched her head with a bit of frustration. “Seriously, what are those two thinking, taking out their fights with each other on an unawakened person? And one without a title, at that.”

Han Yoojin frowned. Something about her phrasing sounded a little off.

“Listen, big bro.” Moon Hyuna planted her hands on her hips, looking at Han Yoojin with something that looked close to pity. “I may not have as much weight to throw around as Seseong over there, but I can get you out of the kingdom easy enough. As they say, out of sight, out of mind. If you’re not within reach, I doubt they’ll involve you in their squabbles too much.”

“… I think there’s been a misunderstanding,” Han Yoojin said firmly. “I was the one who sought Duke Seseong out. We currently have a collaborative relationship based on shared material goals. Although I appreciate Your Grace’s concern, naturally, I cannot leave without fulfilling my responsibilities, nor is it in my interests to do so.”

“Hmm…” Moon Hyuna’s eyebrows raised in contemplation, and she suddenly bent forward to scrutinize him again. “Is it because you’re the Haeyeon kid’s big bro? For an unawakened, you’re awfully brave around a bunch of elites.”

“… It’s just how I am. If that’s all, Your Grace, then is it my turn to speak?”

“Sure. Let’s hear it. What’s this ‘private matter’ of yours, then?”

Han Yoojin took a deep breath. “It’s not really a matter of mine. To be more precise, I thought you would prefer for this matter to remain private. Since it involves Breaker’s operations to defend the Wall.”

At that, Moon Hyuna’s demeanor changed almost instantly. It was like a shift in the very air, the way her playful aura melted away, and sharp focus took its place.

“Oh?” She asked, her presence oppressive.

Nonetheless, Han Yoojin remained unmoved. “There is a small mountain about a day’s ride away from the Breaker fortress entrance to the Wall. No anomalies have ever been recorded in the vicinity of that mountain, so Breaker patrols often use it as a resting place to venture deeper into the wilds. Is that correct?”

Moon Hyuna’s eyes narrowed. “Who did you hear that from?”

From you, Han Yoojin thought dryly. Or rather, from the information that had been made public in the other future after Breaker’s Wall had already fallen.

Rather than answering, he shook his head. “I promise it wasn’t a traitor on your side, but I can’t reveal my sources. Nonetheless, please listen carefully to what I’m about to say. You cannot rely on the mountain as a safe haven in the coming weeks. Have your patrols test the flow of mana surrounding it if you don’t believe me—you’ll see that it’s becoming increasingly unstable. Especially, around the day the Auction is held—please be ready to hold a line of defense there.”

Moon Hyuna’s grip traveled to her spear again, but to her credit, she didn’t seem outright hostile to his words. A more arrogant hunter might easily have taken it as an affront to their authority.

“I can write a contract confirming that I’m not lying, if you don’t believe me,” he added.

After another stretch of silence, Moon Hyuna’s posture finally relaxed again. “No need,” she dismissed. “We’ll know if you’re telling the truth soon enough.

Seeing her acceptance, Han Yoojin let out a breath of relief. This much information would be enough to prevent grievous casualties and keep Breaker prepared. Though he wished he could give more warning, knowing the exact type of monster that would appear, as well as its weak point— that would be nigh impossible to explain away. And even if he could, he doubted anyone would believe him. The concept of a monster too powerful for a single elite to handle was utterly foreign in this time. With Seseong’s forces added to Breaker’s, would that be enough? Plus, there was also Bak Yerim.

With a gesture from Moon Hyuna, the violent gales around them died down, and Bak Yerim’s worried face immediately came into view.

“ Ahjussi! Are you hurt anywhere?” She asked, circling him at least three times like an anxious puppy.

“No, no, I’m fine, see?” He held his hands up in the air.

Momentarily placated, Bak Yerim stopped pacing and shot Moon Hyuna an angry look, hooking Han Yoojin’s elbow in her own. “Please don’t run off with other people’s guardians as you please. If anything happens to him, don’t think Haeyeon or I will sit by.”

“Hey, no need to bite. He’s all yours, all in one piece.” Moon Hyuna let out another peal of barking laughter, nothing but friendly smiles once again. She reached out and ruffled Bak Yerim’s hair vigorously, and Bak Yerim in turn made a showy display of grumpily trying to dodge.

This, he had to admit, he hadn’t expected. Bak Yerim had had such a difficult childhood, able to count the number of adults she could trust on one hand. But watching the two of them tussle playfully, he couldn’t help but feel a smile pull at the corners of his mouth.

“Duke Breaker, Your Grace,” he said with genuine sincerity. “I hope we can be on good terms going forward.”

The luxurious carriage they were traveling in was enchanted to prevent bumping and jostling, so the only sensations Han Yoojin felt as it glided down the road southwards were a gentle sway and the prickling atmosphere that seemed to exude from Sung Hyunjae seated across from him.

To maintain the façade that the duke of Breaker remained oblivious to the happenings down south, Moon Hyuna would remain at the Breaker fortress—where she had duties to carry out, anyhow—while Bak Yerim was pretending to be an ordinary guard in the entourage outside. Sung Hyunjae, on the other hand, was masquerading as a guest invited to attend the Auction. Though, it was closer to truth than fiction, as he’d received a genuine invitation.

And as for Han Yoojin—

“Go as your attendant?” He repeated.

Sung Hyunjae gave a curt nod. “You still have the stealth artifact?”

Han Yoojin fumbled through his waist pouch—formerly Sung Hyunjae’s—and pulled out the bracelet with the invisibility enchantment.

“Good. Once the auction is about to close, you can use it to look for the ledgers.”

The crux of their mission was obtaining the Auction’s ledgers. From there, they would be able to trace not only how each auction item was acquired, but who had purchased it. And for that, it was critical that they allow the Auction to run as intended before they closed the net.

But…

Han Yoojin frowned. “Isn’t that too risky? They could easily have measurements to detect or defend against artifacts. Besides, the window for the auction’s closing moments is too tight. There might not be enough time to do a thorough search. What if we can’t find it in time?”

“Then we lose the evidence, and Breaker raids the Auction grounds,” Sung Hyunjae shrugged with disinterest.

“Shouldn’t you be more concerned about the odds of success of your own plan?” Han Yoojin asked incredulously.

Sung Hyunjae gave a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes, his sharp canines glinting in the dim light. “If you decided to crush some bugs on a whim, would you worry that a few of them had gotten away?”

Han Yoojin scowled. Sure, it was fine for Sung Hyunjae to say so, but if the centerpiece of the Auction was the same as in the other timeline, then he absolutely wanted to get his hands on it. Moreover, it was crucial to strengthen Moon Hyuna’s position as duke.

“There has to be a better way,” he muttered. “If we could find it ahead of time… But, they might move it. Then, if we could extend the window… A disturbance during the auction…? But, it has to be something that wouldn’t spook them into just hiding and running… Something like…” His eyes widened. “Something like, if an important piece of merchandise goes missing.”

Sung Hyunjae raised an eyebrow, his gaze a silent question.

“I’ll go in as merchandise,” Han Yoojin stated. “There will almost certainly be some kind of secured area where the exchanges take place at the end of the auction. The ledgers would likely be nearby. If I’m brought in, that’s one less line of security to sneak through. And while they’re searching for me, they can’t conclude the auction, so that will buy us more time to obtain the ledgers.”

Even as he spoke, doubts were racing through his mind. Would he be able to find a way through what would undoubtedly be very tight security? Was there any guarantee that he would be able to find the ledgers, even given more time? Still, the chances of success were higher than with Sung Hyunjae’s plan. He waited for some kind of remark, but Sung Hyunjae only continued to stare at him in silence, the pressure in the carriage growing heavier by the second.

His skin begin to crawl at Sung Hyunjae’s uncharacteristic lack of response. Normally, wouldn’t he be making some nonsense remarks about sharing the profits on his investment or something at this point? His mood had already seemed off when they’d spoken to Moon Hyuna, and it only seemed to be worsening by the minute.

Did Your Grace eat something bad earlier?” Han Yoojin asked pointedly. “If Your Grace is having bowel problems, please just say something. It’s not like you to simply bear with it by yourself.”

Sung Hyunjae had been resting his chin on his arm against the windowsill, but at those words, he straightened his posture, his gaze becoming discomfiting in its intensity. “The food was fine,” he said neutrally—but it was the careful flatness of a string pulled taut, ready to snap at any second. “It’s the contents of your plan that seem to disagree with me.”

“Why?” Han Yoojin pressed. Of course, there were parts that were lacking, but—

“Hmm. It simply isn’t to my taste.”

Han Yoojin’s throat tightened. Thinking about it, it’d been over a month now, hadn’t it? It was about time for the novelty to start wearing off.

“I would remind Your Grace that this was your request in the first place,” he said tartly. “The deal was that I deliver results, and I intend to do so.”

“Alright. Then let’s talk of results.” Despite the smile on his face, the glint of Sung Hyunjae’s exposed canines had Han Yoojin’s hair standing on end. “You intend to walk into a room of the richest people in the world and make them covet you. And after the Auction is over, what then? Some of those people already know your face and voice. The others will be able to find you if they dig deep enough, regardless. Do you think you’ll still be able to wander freely after that?”

Han Yoojin bit his lip. Indeed, it was a problem. But he couldn’t keep simply hiding his skills if he wanted to be able to use them to change the future. It wasn’t a matter of “if” he should reveal them, but when and how.

“Most people won’t bother to covet something that’s too far out of reach. It’s a matter of assuming an identity that will deter trouble,” he said evenly, meeting Sung Hyunjae’s gaze. “For example… ‘Duke Seseong’s pet.’”

It might have been a trick of the light, but for a moment, it almost looked like Sung Hyunjae’s muscles tensed. He sat there, frozen, a perfect marble statue, only his flawless golden locks swaying hypnotically with the movement of the carriage.

“Of course, it’s not like I won’t give anything in return,” Han Yoojin rushed to add. “Kang Soyoung has an affinity for dragons, doesn’t she? If I can provide her with a dragon companion, that would be roughly equivalent to adding an elite hunter to Seseong’s ranks. That’s enough compensation for putting a target on your back, isn’t it? And moreover, if I make agreements with Yoohyun and Duke Breaker—”

“How frustrating,” Sung Hyunjae murmured.

“… What?” The unexpected comment cut clean through Han Yoojin’s train of thought.

In the next moment, cold metal had already wrapped itself around his neck.

He was hardly a stranger to the sensation of the Seeker’s chains around his throat, but if their presence there had been merely playful in the past, then it was full of intention now. Sung Hyunjae yanked the free end with unrelenting force, pulling their faces close until strong fingers gripped his chin.

“I hadn’t expected it to be this frustrating,” Sung Hyunjae continued, almost as if speaking to himself. “But the more I think about it, the less I see a reason to stay here and watch all of these flies accumulate around you. Ah, don’t worry, I’ll find your pet cat for you, so you won’t have any reason to think back on this place.”

Han Yoojin’s back grew cold. “You don’t mean… abandoning the Auction?” Urgently, he grabbed Sung Hyunjae by the collar. “You can’t! If we leave Breaker now—the Wall will collapse in ten days!”

Sung Hyunjae didn’t respond immediately. A tense silence stretched on between them. Han Yoojin dug his fingers deeper into Sung Hyunjae’s collar, etching deep creases into the luxurious fabric.

“The Wall,” Sung Hyunjae repeated.

“… Yes. If you think I’m lying, then—”

“I don’t think you’re lying.”

With a soft clink, the Seeker’s chains fell slack, and Sung Hyunjae lapsed into contemplative silence once more.

Han Yoojin studied him warily. “You’re not going to ask why I think so?” He asked cautiously.

Sung Hyunjae’s lips twitched. “Would you tell me if I did?”

Han Yoojin lowered his eyes, a self-evident admission of guilt.

With a long sigh and a wry smile, Sung Hyunjae turned his gaze away to the window, Breaker’s majestic peaks flying past them in the distant horizon. Tap, tap, tap. His fingers drummed softly against the windowsill, tapping out a melodic beat to the sway of the carriage.

Han Yoojin’s fingers uncurled slowly one by one from his death grip on the front of Sung Hyunjae’s shirt, waiting for a response with raw and fraying nerves. It was only when he leaned back that the quiet clink of metal accompanying his movements seemed to bring Sung Hyunjae’s attention back to earth.

“Then, first of all,” he said, “Do something about the way you address me.”

“… What?” Not for the first time that day, the sudden topic shift left Han Yoojin dizzy.

“Of course, your personal touch is essential, but the feeling should be something like—mm, how about ‘my dear Hyunjae~’ in a sweet and loving tone? Yes, why don’t we start there? Go ahead and give it a try.”

On reflex, Han Yoojin opened his mouth, but as soon as he fully processed the words, he immediately snapped his mouth shut. “… Your Grace, do you need to see a doctor?” He asked suspiciously. “You appear to be talking in your sleep, but your eyes are wide open.”

Sung Hyunjae rested his cheek in one hand with a pitying sigh. “Of course, you were the older brother, so you never had the chance to learn. Surely you’ll have observed the trick from your beloved younger brother, though. For example, when he leans forward so that he’s lower in height, like so—” Having spoken, Sung Hyunjae really proceeded to kneel on the floor of the carriage, resting his hands on Han Yoojin’s knees. “—and then makes a cute, pitiful face and says, ‘hyung…’”

The visuals of the scene were a bit too much for Han Yoojin’s already frazzled mind. He looked desperately away from the picturesque face being planted squarely in his field of view, fighting the color that began to rise to his cheeks. “Yoohyun doesn’t do ‘tricks,’” he couldn’t resist the impulse to correct. “He’s naturally cute. And I’m a bit too young to have a baby brother in his late thirties, Your Grace.”

“What a conundrum. Then I suppose you’ll have to be the one to call me hyung instead. Don’t worry, my Yoojin is also naturally cute, so it should come easily.” Sung Hyunjae smiled brightly, as if it wasn’t utter nonsense dripping from his lips. More dangerously, accompanying his words, his hands on Han Yoojin’s knees had begun to knead, thumbs pressing shallow circles into tense muscle in a way that could have been a gentle massage but for the way it left electrifying tingles on Han Yoojin’s skin.

“Your Grace,” he protested through gritted teeth.

Sung Hyunjae tilted his head in feigned confusion, the bastard that he was. “I’m afraid I don’t know of anyone here with that name.”

His hands began to wander upwards, traveling with tantalizing slowness up the insides of Han Yoojin’s thighs. Han Yoojin was unsuccessful in holding back his blush this time, a burning heat crawling up his neck and flooding his face.

“Sung Hyunjae,” he bit out. “Don’t tell me you won’t acknowledge that name, either? Even a dog knows when it’s being called, you know. Surely you’re not less possessed of intelligence than a dog?”

The fingers on his thighs paused, granting him a moment of respite, if nothing else. But they soon resumed their task, accompanied by Sung Hyunjae’s cheerful voice.

“When my dear Yoojin calls my name, how could I not listen?” He glanced up through his stupid long eyelashes the color of sun-kissed wheat in the field. “If you don’t believe me, try it again.”

“Sung Hyunjae—”

“Yes?” Punctuated by a curl of stupid, perfectly shaped lips.

“… Even if you want to moonlight as a masseuse, you should consider the right time and place to practice,” Han Yoojin threw at him.

Sung Hyunjae let out a disappointed sigh, but the smile on his lips was still there. “If my dear Yoojin says so,” he said with exaggerated sincerity, pulling away.

With a pointed look that seemed to be saying, Look, aren’t I doing exactly as you asked? Sung Hyunjae returned to his own seat, hands folded neatly in his lap.

Seeing no more indication of movement from him, Han Yoojin closed his eyes, his mind turning back to contingencies for their arrival. His fingers subconsciously drifted to his pants, surreptitiously smoothing out the fabric where the sensation of Sung Hyunjae’s touch still lingered. But as the carriage drove on, the phantom sensation slowly faded away, replaced by nothing more than the weight of cloth against his skin.

And Han Yoojin ignored the corner of his mind that felt disappointment at the loss.

Chapter Text

Sunlight filtered in from the glass windows, landing softly on Han Yoojin’s sleeping form curled up on the sofa, a strikingly familiar dragon’s egg clutched in his arms. The slow rise and fall of his shoulders was hypnotic, as were the loose strands of hair that swayed gently with his breath across his face.

Why he was on the sofa was an utter mystery, because Sung Hyunjae very clearly recalled him retiring to his  room shortly after they’d arrived late last night.

Rather than wake him, Sung Hyunjae opted to head to the pantry to retrieve ingredients for breakfast. He kept this little house near the kingdom’s southern border mostly as a convenient outpost for himself, so there were no servants or other personnel here, but he did have suppliers to keep it routinely stocked with fresh food in case urgent circumstances occurred. Such as today’s, it seemed.

Either the sizzle of eggs in the skillet or the aroma of frying meat must have reached Han Yoojin from within the clutches of dream. He stirred, sitting up blearily and rubbing the sleep out of his eyes. Then, as if seeing something incomprehensible, he squinted, rubbed his eyes again, and frowned.

Judging that the texture of the eggs was just right, Sung Hyunjae retrieved two dishes to neatly plate their breakfast.

“… If you can cook so well, why do you hire chefs?” Han Yoojin asked dubiously.

“A hobby that I have no choice but to do isn’t much of a hobby at all,” Sung Hyunjae said mildly.

Han Yoojin seemed to begrudgingly accept that answer. After dragging himself to his feet, he gathered the dragon’s egg up in his arms and sat down at the table, keeping the egg tucked in his lap. Sung Hyunjae handed him a glass of warm milk, waiting deliberately for him to take a sip before speaking.

“Is that the child we brought into this world together?” He asked, barely able to contain the mirth on his lips.

Han Yoojin choked violently on his milk.

To his credit, he managed to avoid spraying it everywhere, only a small trickle of white escaping the corner of his lips as he swallowed the rest in between coughs. Sung Hyunjae leaned forward, capturing the droplet with a swipe of his thumb to taste it.

Sweet.

“It’s the egg we found together, yes,” Han Yoojin said in a strained voice.

“How delightful. You do look lovely carrying our child.”

Han Yoojin opened his mouth to object, but whatever he’d been about to say was interrupted by the spoonful of egg that Sung Hyunjae seized the opportunity to deposit in his mouth.

Caught off-guard, Han Yoojin blinked, chewed, and swallowed. “… It’s delicious,” he said, with an expression of profound disgust. “There’s nothing to criticize.”

With a quiet chuckle, Sung Hyunjae pushed the rest of the plate at him, watching with satisfaction as he scooped the rest of the eggs into his mouth with no small amount of disgruntled enthusiasm.

“What’s up with this bread?” Han Yoojin had reached the toast on the plate, perfectly cooked to a light golden brown, with a hint of butter drizzled and a tiny sprig of rosemary placed on top. “… Did you cut off the crust?” He glanced at his plate, then at Sung Hyunjae’s identical one, and his eyes widened in understanding. “No way, don’t tell me, the cool and perfect Duke Seseong is too picky for bread crusts?” There was a note of glee in his voice, his eyes sparkling with delight. “Imagine the chaos when the capital finds out, Your Grace.”

Personally, Sung Hyunjae doubted very much that anyone but Han Yoojin would find this tidbit so fascinating, but he smiled indulgently nonetheless. “Who is this ‘Your Grace’?”

Han Yoojin rolled his eyes. “Sung. Hyun. Jae. It’s a bit too early for you to be going senile already.”

“I’m simply reminding my pet how to address me.”

“Pet—” Han Yoojin bristled.

“Your words, not mine,” Sung Hyunjae reminded. He leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table as he laced his fingers together. “There’s still time to change your mind. The dark, perverse face of the aristocracy is no pretty sight.” Moon Hyuna, as far as he was concerned, could either do the dirty work herself or go burn in a fire for all he cared.

But Han Yoojin scowled at the suggestion. “Am I supposed to say, ‘Oh, thanks, that’s great, I’ll leave everything to you’? Of course that’s not going to happen. And anyways—dark side or whatever, I’ve experienced plenty of it already.”

“This might be a bit different from your particular experiences,” Sung Hyunjae murmured. “Unless—” He paused.

“… Unless what?” Han Yoojin looked at him dubiously.

“Nothing.” Sung Hyunjae gave him a placid smile. “I was just pondering whether I would need to make some house calls in the future.” Pulling out the chair beside him, he sat down and leaned back, crossing his legs. “Then, if you’re truly determined, please show me your resolve.” Gesturing with a wave of his hand, he said simply, “Sit.”

It was obvious that he wasn’t referring to one of the other dining table chairs. Placing the dragon’s egg to one side, Han Yoojin bit his lip, then squared his shoulders and lowered himself to his knees on the floor beside Sung Hyunjae.

“Not there,” Sung Hyunjae corrected. “Up here.” He patted his legs with mild amusement.

The look that Han Yoojin gave him was one of such bewildement that it nearly brought a laugh to Sung Hyunjae’s lips. Delicately, with the type of care that one might show around a startled gazelle, he laid one hand on the back of Han Yoojin’s waist to guide him and propped the other underneath his thigh to help support his weight until he slid to a comfortable position, gingerly straddling Sung Hyunjae’s lap.

Han Yoojin’s discomfiture was obvious at a glance. He sat with his back straight as a rod, his hands clutching awkwardly at his own legs, evidently at a loss for where to put them. Every muscle in his body was locked in place, his body so rigid that a slight push in the wrong direction would probably send him toppling over.

“You can rest your weight on me,” Sung Hyunjae said softly.

Han Yoojin’s mouth twitched, probably in the beginnings of a retort, but he allowed Sung Hyunjae to tease open his tense fingers and place them on Sung Hyunjae’s shoulders. Slowly, in the tiniest of increments, his body finally began to relax. Like this, it was more than evident how negligible Han Yoojin’s weight was to Sung Hyunjae’s strength. It would be so easy to grasp him by his slim hips and lift him—

Sung Hyunjae immediately cut off that line of thought.

“Open up.” Tearing off part of the bread, he tapped the soft white piece to Han Yoojin’s lips. Han Yoojin shot him a disgruntled look, but his lips parted and accepted the bread without protest, chewing it thoroughly.

“So, eating your crustless bread, does that ‘show my resolve’?” Han Yoojin remarked with reproach, once his mouth was no longer full.

Sung Hyunjae tilted his head. Despite the improvement from before, Han Yoojin’s posture was still very tense, the muscles in his back especially tight. He seemed to respond at least partially well to gentle touches, to Sung Hyunjae rubbing small circles into his shoulders and spine.

“It shows that this act has a ways to go to be convincing,” Sung Hyunjae mused. “Perhaps more practice is in order.”

Han Yoojin snorted. “What, should I bark, too, to really sell it?”

“If you’d like to,” Sung Hyunjae said mildly. But his voice soon sharpened. “Don’t forget, anyone who has lasted in the royal court will have a keen eye for body language.”

Han Yoojin’s mouth pressed into a stubborn line. “Does it matter? No one at the Auction will blink if your ‘pet’ seems a little green. After all—the entire plan already hinges around the well-known fact that Duke Seseong’s interest in his toys fades quickly.”

Sung Hyunjae’s brow furrowed. It was the truth, but unexpectedly, the phrasing rankled more than he’d have thought. He didn’t bother hiding the displeasure from his voice. “Young lord Yoojin, if you’re having second thoughts about this idea, I suggest you bow out sooner rather than later.”

“I’m having second thoughts? If I didn’t know better, Your Grace, I’d think you were having second thoughts,” Han Yoojin snapped back. “If you find it tedious, then I’m sure I can think of a way to have Duke Breaker take your place. It is her own territory, anyways. But, of course, the benefits would have to be renegotiated, so don’t think you’ll—mmph.” A piece of bread stuffed into his mouth swallowed up the rest of his words.

“One of the charm points of a good pet,” Sung Hyunjae said coolly, “is loyalty to its owner.”

Han Yoojin glared daggers back as he swallowed the bread. “And one of the necessities of a good pet owner,” he retorted, “is having a pet at all. So, are you in, or not?”

Sung Hyunjae’s lips curled. It was a novel sensation to him, he had to admit—the feeling of being boxed in, with no recourse. Even as the vexation of it bit at him, he marveled in the sharpness of the sensation.

“Fine, then,” he allowed. “Since my dear Yoojin is so eager, I have no choice but to show all of my love and care.”

The invitation to the Auction was nothing more than a slim, black card. Han Yoojin ran his fingers over its glossy surface, the elegant gold lettering twinkling merrily at him, belying its sinister nature. The only things written on the card were the time, date, and location of the event in cipher, as well as the address to its recipient—

“To Lord Sigma Sollemnis,” Han Yoojin read aloud. “That’s you?”

“It’s one of my aliases.” As usual, Sung Hyunjae’s smile was a bit too sharp to be called comforting, exactly, but there was a magnetic pull to it. Fishing out a black mask, he affixed it to Han Yoojin’s face and tied it neatly in the back. “And as for you, we’ll call you Honey.”

“... Honey?” Han Yoojin touched the mask on his face. The design was simple but elegant, covering the top half of his face, and though it appeared to be made of painted wood, it was surprisingly weightless. “What kind of name is that?”

Sung Hyunjae smiled enigmatically. “Perhaps it’s because you’re so sweet.”

It sounded suspiciously like an excuse, but it was just a temporary cover for this ridiculous mission, anyways. Han Yoojin chose to ignore it. “Don’t you need a mask?”

Sung Hyunjae shrugged in reply. “There’s no merit in it as a disguise.”

Han Yoojin recognized the implication behind his words. The world of the aristocracy was small—there was no such thing as true anonymity there, especially for someone as high-profile as Sung Hyunjae. No guest at the Auction would mistake the duke of Seseong as anyone other than himself, no matter what he wore or how he disguised himself.

The carriage jolted to a stop, and Han Yoojin opened the door cautiously. They were a day early to the site of the Auction, and as expected, the place was bustling with activity. Workers were lugging crates across the site, and guards who looked like high to mid-rank hunters littered the place. One such guard approached their carriage warily.

“Excuse me, sir, but no one is allowed beyond this perimeter,” the guard said, though a note of uncertainty crept into his tone.

Han Yoojin raised an eyebrow at the guard’s politeness—but then he remembered that they were in one of Sung Hyunjae’s conspicuously opulent carriages. It didn’t bear his crest, but it may as well have screamed to the world that the person inside was a walking treasure vault. He felt a grin tugging at the corners of his lips. Ah, the power of wealth.

“You don’t recognize him?” Han Yoojin said, gesturing to Sung Hyunjae.

The guard only gave him a blank look in response. “I’m sorry, sir, but I’m not allowed to let anyone in.”

Han Yoojin frowned. After a moment’s thought, he pulled on Sung Hyunjae’s elbow, tugging him closer to the door. “There, take a closer look. There’s no way you don’t recognize him. It’s probably the only face in the kingdom with a higher valuation than this carriage. Isn’t it so handsome it makes you a little mad? Do you think there’s a second one of these in the whole world?”

The guard was beginning to sweat a little, sneaking anxious glances at Sung Hyunjae, but recognition still did not strike.

“Honey,” Sung Hyunjae said, a little helplessly. “Not everyone has seen my face before.”

“Oh.” Indeed, that was true. It wasn’t like the duke of Seseong went around parading himself before the entire population of the kingdom for fun. Han Yoojin coughed awkwardly. “That does appear to be the case. Still, your boss will recognize him. Who’s in charge of you? Well, whoever they are, go fetch them right now. I can assure you they won’t be happy if you turn him away at the door.”

When the guard still appeared to hesitate, Han Yoojin sighed and held out the invitation card.

“Here, if you need something to show, then take this. We’ll wait right here, I promise. And if all of your other friends here—” He gestured at the other dozen or so guards in the immediate vicinity, “—aren’t able to stop us, then you weren’t going to have mattered a lot by yourself, anyways.”

That line of reasoning finally seemed to get through to the guard. “Right away, sir,” he stammered, and ran off. Han Yoojin watched him scuttle into the distance with satisfaction. The feeling of throwing around Sung Hyunjae’s name—that was something he could certainly get used to.

“You would put my face at a higher valuation than this carriage?” Sung Hyunjae spoke up curiously. Han Yoojin glanced at him with annoyance.

“Are you fishing for compliments?” He asked suspiciously. “It’s general opinion. You were ranked number one in the poll for Bachelors You’d Take As Penniless Trophy Husbands in The Daily Capital just the other year.”

Sung Hyunjae raised an eyebrow. “As far as I’m aware, I’ve been featured in no such poll.”

Ah, shoot. Had that been from before the regression?

“Maybe I misremembered the name. Well, anyways, there’s lots of polls like that. By the way, Yoohyun is normally second, but of course, he’s much younger, so he hasn’t built up as much of a following yet,” Han Yoojin added. “In a few years, he’ll be much more popular than you, you’ll see.”

“Mm. Well, in a few years, eligibility for the poll would be another matter to consider,” Sung Hyunjae said mildly.

“Eligibility…?” Ah, come to think of it, weren’t there rumors about Han Yoohyun and Kang Soyoung being a match back in the day? Truth be told, Han Yoojin had been a bit skeptical, but if anyone would know, it would be Kang Soyoung’s superior, wouldn’t it? His forehead wrinkled in thought. “Isn’t Yoohyun still a bit young to date? Um, but Kang Soyoung seems like a decent young lady… Well, she is your deputy, after all… Oh!” His eyes lit up. “Doesn’t that mean we’ll be poaching talent from Seseong? You won’t be too upset, will you, Your Grace?”

Sung Hyunjae looked a little speechless. “... As far as I’m aware, Miss Soyoung’s devotion to dragons still outweighs her fondness for any one person,” he said delicately.

“That’s fine, that’s fine, as long as they like each other,” Han Yoojin dismissed with a wave. “Yoohyun isn’t so particular about things like that. Your Grace, you wouldn’t stand in the way of young people’s love, would you?”

“... Of course not,” Sung Hyunjae said carefully. “If both of them are favorable to the idea, naturally, I would give them my blessing to be together in whatever way they please.”

Han Yoojin nodded with satisfaction. It just so happened that the guard from before had also returned, bringing along a well-groomed man with a greasy aura.

“Good morning, Your Grace, and sir,” the man said in an obsequious tone. “My name is Henry Gregson, and I’m overseeing the, ah, event taking place here. My apologies, but we were not informed that such an esteemed person would be visiting us so early. May I ask as to the purpose of your visit?”

“You may not,” Han Yoojin told him crossly. “We’ve been waiting outside for—how long has it been now? At least twenty minutes? Absolutely unacceptable. Is this how you treat your best client? Cut the chatter and bring us inside already.”

“Pardon me, sir…” Henry Gregson looked to be at a loss. He peeked at Sung Hyunjae, almost as if looking for rescue, but Sung Hyunjae merely put on an exaggeratedly indulgent smile.

“My Honey has been quite impatient to see the merchandise,” he said, as if in explanation.

Henry Gregson seemed to be weighing his options for a moment. “I’m sorry, Your Grace, sir, but the rules of the event state that the merchandise will not be brought out for display until the evening of. I hope that you’ll let the suspense whet your appetite.”

Han Yoojin eyed the man with contemplation. “Mr. Gregson, you’re a merchant, aren’t you? You’d consider yourself a businessman?”

The man adjusted his glasses proudly. “... That would be accurate, sir.”

“Well then, let’s settle this like businessmen. You’re looking to get the best price for all of the sales. I bet you get a cut of the commission, don’t you? So you need the atmosphere of auction day to get everyone fired up to buy useless junk they don’t need at prices they’ll regret. That’s when you’re dealing with the rest of the rabble, anyways. But you recognize who this is, right?” Han Yoojin patted Sung Hyunjae’s shoulder impishly. “Or else you wouldn’t even be here to greet us.”

“... Though we strive to respect our clients’ privacy,” Henry Gregson said diplomatically, “I am, of course, aware of His Grace’s great reputation.”

“Yeah, yeah. The point is, you know how rich he is, right? How many little trinkets do you have stored away? Do you have any doubts that he could buy out every single one of them and call it pocket change? If you ask me, you should consider it a favor that I’m giving you time to appeal to this big whale one on one.” Han Yoojin folded his arms.

The auctioneer seemed to consider his words for a while, finally smiling at them with just a touch of reluctance. “... I suppose it wouldn’t hurt to provide a small preview of the goods. If you would please follow me, sir, Your Grace.” He glanced at Han Yoojin and couldn’t help adding, “Your Grace’s companion is certainly very…… eloquent.” There was only a teeny, tiny hint of sourness in his voice.

“He is, isn’t he?” Sung Hyunjae said fondly, reaching out to pet Han Yoojin’s hair. “I consider myself someone with an eye for quality.”

Ugh, wasn’t he getting into his role a little too enthusiastically? Han Yoojin wrinkled his nose.

Once they’d gotten closer to the structure at the heart of the Auction site, they were able to make out its details more clearly. Tall and grand, it was elaborately constructed, with marvelous, ornate pillars and detailed reliefs decorating its surface. The only thing was that it looked a little old and dusty, the metal rusted and paint chipped in places. It looked to be some kind of luxurious hotel that had fallen into disuse. This close to the border, it had probably once been used as lodging for foreign dignitaries coming to and from the Republic to the south, but those relations had soured during Choi Sukwon’s short-lived reign.

Tidying up the place appeared to be part of the preparation work for the Auction. All around them, there were people dusting corners and mopping tiles. Luckily, the hotel appeared to be well built in the first place, so cleaning it up wouldn't be too costly of a task. That had probably been factored into the site selection in the first place.

Henry Gregson led them past the hotel’s grand ballroom and into a hallway of smaller rooms in one of the wings. The rooms were dimly lit with mana-powered light sources—unlike those brutes in Haeyeon, it appeared the handlers of this Auction weren’t ones to skimp on operating costs—and there were still workers lifting boxes in and out of them.

“Please feel free to peruse the wares,” he said with a flattering smile. “If you have any questions, I will gladly answer them as well.”

Heart thumping, Han Yoojin quickly scanned all of the rooms from the hallway. The boxes inside were stacked in such a crowded manner that it was hard to make out what was inside, though. Nothing he saw looked obviously like a fire manticore. Finally, he ended up picking a room at random and walking in.

To his dismay, the room appeared to be full of only wearable artifacts. Jewelry and apparel lined the shelves and walls, all of them engraved or embroidered with sigils that were positively brimming with power. In a different circumstance, he would be eagerly categorizing them to see what might be useful for Han Yoohyun or Bak Yerim, but all of it felt like a distraction until he could find Peace.

Still, he had to at least make a show of being interested in the merchandise, or the auctioneer might get suspicious. He poked impatiently at some of the cloaks hanging on a rack. Hm? Wasn’t this one lightning resistance? Should he reserve it for Yoohyun? That way, Sung Hyunjae wouldn’t be able to bully him as much the next time they clashed.

“That’s favoritism again, Honey.” Sung Hyunjae’s voice was close enough to fall as a breath on his ears. If not for his dulled sense of fear, Han Yoojin would have jumped out of his skin in surprise.

He opted to play dumb. “Favoritism?” He asked innocently. “I just thought it was a nice piece of equipment. You know, with how lightning-aspected monsters have such a nasty reputation and all. I’ve heard some of them are so indiscriminate in their aggression that they’ll even bully kids.”

Sung Hyunjae smiled patiently. “Rather than indiscrimination, it’s intentional discernment, my dear Honey. A little bit of hardship in one’s youth builds character.”

Han Yoojin didn’t bother to disguise his snort. “Is that why Your Grace’s character is so dubious? Not enough hardship in your youth?”

“I won’t refute that.” Sung Hyunjae gave in surprisingly easily. He seemed more preoccupied with laying the cloak across Han Yoojin’s shoulders. “Why not keep it for yourself? Rather than the kids, I fear those nasty lightning monsters might have a greater appetite for bullying you.”

Unexpectedly, his hand slid around to encircle Han Yoojin’s waist, pulling him closer until their bodies were flush. Han Yoojin looked up in puzzlement, just opening his mouth to voice the question when he heard the auctioneer’s footsteps draw closer.

“Is Your Grace and your companion finding everything alright?” Henry Gregson asked pleasantly.

Oh, so it was part of the act. Han Yoojin relaxed into the touch. With the advent of the auctioneer’s arrival, Sung Hyunjae lifted one of Han Yoojin’s hands high and guided him into a quick, clean twirl.

“What do you think?” Sung Hyunjae said, a carnivorous smile playing on his lips. “My Honey looks quite appetizing in this color, doesn’t he?” There was a sharpness to his voice that threatened to draw blood.

Henry Gregson pondered in apprehensive silence for a few moments, clearly judging the dangers of answering either way. Finally, he said very cautiously, “… Your Grace’s taste is impeccable, of course.”

It was the wrong choice.

“Gregson,” Sung Hyunjae said coldly, “Have a care how you look at my companion, if you prefer your eyes attached to your skull.”

“Of course, Your Grace,” the auctioneer rushed to amend. “My apologies if I offended.”

Mm, of course, the opposite answer would have been just as bad. It was a question that was set up to be failed. Han Yoojin sighed to himself in his mind. What a nasty piece of work Sung Hyunjae was.

“You’re playing with him,” Han Yoojin murmured under his breath.

Sung Hyunjae laughed softly. “I thought it would help you relieve a little stress.”

Han Yoojin cleared his throat delicately. “Ahem. Well, I have no reason to say no to dinner and a show.” He had no sympathy for this bastard who was dealing in human trafficking and keeping Peace locked up somewhere. Besides, it would be safer if the auctioneer’s attention was more focused on self-preservation than suspicion at their actions.

Placing the cloak back on the rack, they crossed into the next room. This one was stocked with weapons and combat artifacts, but none of them were too suitable for Han Yoohyun or Bak Yerim’s fighting styles. And of course, they all paled in comparison to the Seeker’s chains.

Finally, when they rounded the corner into the third room, the musky scent of animal fur hit Han Yoojin square in the face. He hurried his steps, walking deeper into the room.

The containers in this room were taller and wider than a person by far, covered in heavy fabric that obscured them completely. With shaking fingers, he pulled off the fabric to one of the containers, revealing a large metal cage underneath. Inside was a small baby gryphon, curled up and soundly asleep. The next one held a pair of unicorn foals, also unconscious. Finally, when he pulled off the covers to the last cage, he saw a familiar orange shape.

“Peace!” He cried. “Peace, can you hear me? Dad is here.” But Peace didn’t move. Whirling toward the auctioneer, Han Yoojin fixed him with a deadly glare. “What did you do to Peace? Why won’t he wake up?!”

The auctioneer seemed to be a little taken aback by the sudden change in attitude, his eyes glinting calculatively as his gaze flickered between Han Yoojin and Peace, but Han Yoojin couldn’t find the capacity to care.

“Please rest assured, sir, the monsters have all been sedated with safe amounts of tranquilizer for the express purpose of minimizing distress during transportation. They have all been well-cared for and are in perfect condition.”

“Well-cared for?! You—”

“Shhh.” Sung Hyunjae’s hand came to rest over his eyes, hurling his vision into darkness. “You’re too agitated, Honey.”

“Agitated?! Look at Peace, I—”

“I know,” Sung Hyunjae interrupted softly. “But not right now.”

Of course, Sung Hyunjae was right, the bastard that he was. Han Yoojin sucked in deep breaths, forcing his boiling blood to settle.

“What’s the starting bid for the fire manticore?” Sung Hyunjae asked levelly. The question was evidently aimed at the auctioneer.

With Sung Hyunjae’s palm still covering his eyes, Han Yoojin couldn’t see either of their expressions, but the auctioneer’s voice sounded a little shaky as he replied. “T-two thousand gold, Your Grace.”

“I’ll offer you twenty thousand, then,” Sung Hyunjae said with cold finality. “Give him to us right now, and I’ll overlook the offense of being sold something that already belongs to me. It wouldn’t be good for your reputation if it were known that you were stealing from your own clients, I’m sure.”

“Y-yes, of course, Your Grace. Thank you for your leniency.”

There was the clink and rattle of a padlock being unlocked, and then the cage swung open without a creak. The next thing Han Yoojin felt was a warm bundle of fur being deposited in his arms. Only then was his vision returned to him, the soft orange hue taking up his field of view.

“We’re leaving. Now,” Han Yoojin said flatly.

Without waiting for a response, he began walking in the direction of the exit and towards the carriage. It was only once they’d embarked and closed the door that he opened his mouth again.

“… Thank you,” he said reluctantly. “For getting Peace out.”

Sung Hyunjae’s golden eyes gave the illusion of burning in the dim light. “You’re still displeased,” he observed.

Han Yoojin’s mouth twisted bitterly. “They don’t deserve to make a single coin off of this. Even if it’s only temporary.”

“That was a possibility you cut off when you showed weakness in front of them.”

Damn Sung Hyunjae, but he was right. Han Yoojin’s hands clenched and unclenched at his sides, though he made sure not to jostle Peace in his lap.

“I know,” Han Yoojin said, taking an unsteady breath. “I’m still inadequate in many ways. Still, I’m trying, I…” His throat closed up. Trying wasn’t good enough, though. Failure was failure, and the cost of failure was…

“Yoojin,” Sung Hyunjae said gently, “I’m not speaking to reprimand. Just as a house isn’t built with one beam, you can’t be steady when you’re carrying too many burdens alone.”

Han Yoojin didn’t trust himself to answer. Instead, he focused his attention on stroking Peace’s fur, waiting anxiously until his twitching nose showed the first portents of his awakening.

“Peace!” Han Yoojin exhaled.

The wet nose nuzzled insistently at his hand, demanding scratches to its chin, which Han Yoojin gladly provided. Soon, Peace was getting up and stretching in his lap, digging his sharp claws into Han Yoojin’s pants and legs.

“Ow, Peace…” He complained, but he couldn’t keep the giddy relief out of his voice even as he did so.

“… Your pet cat certainly is fond of you.”

Sung Hyunjae’s voice seemed to trigger an instinctual reaction in Peace, who shot up and curled himself around Han Yoojin’s neck, growling in a low rumble.

“Hey, hey, it’s okay,” Han Yoojin soothed, reaching blindly behind his shoulder to pet at Peace. “You’re safe now, I’m right here.”

It didn’t seem to fully soothe the manticore, but at least he stopped growling audibly, though his fangs were still bared.

With a sigh, Han Yoojin turned his face to the window. “Let’s go visit Yerim,” he decided. “She’ll want to know that Peace is safe.”

Bak Yerim was lodging with the small contingent of guards that Moon Hyuna had sent with them, nominally for security but in truth to ease coordination once the full-on roundup of the Auction began. As soon as the carriage came to a halt, her energetic form could be seen dashing out from the sturdy, plain barracks.

“Ahjussi! You found Peace!” She exclaimed. Her cheeks were tinged pink with vigor, and she looked to be positively glowing with excitement. “Aw, Peace, your coat looks so shiny. I guess they fed you well while you were kidnapped, huh?” She rubbed Peace’s fur a little overly vigorously, and Peace snapped at her fingers with mild irritation in turn.

“They had him knocked out when I got there, but he seems fine otherwise.”

With the whole of the carriage trip to compose himself, and Peace’s continued demonstrations of health, Han Yoojin felt a little calmer. He was a little embarrassed of his outburst now—probably, it would have seemed like he’d been making a fuss about nothing to Sung Hyunjae. He snuck a brief peek at him, but Sung Hyunjae’s face revealed nothing.

Shaking his head, he quickly changed the topic. “How are you getting along with the Breaker hunters?”

“They’ve been teaching me how to spar!” Bak Yerim said excitedly. “I’m the best, of course—I’m the only elite here—but there’s so many tricks I didn’t know! Ahjussi, look, look, try to punch me right now.”

“Huh? Uh, okay.”

Though he knew it wouldn’t make a difference, he threw the entirety of his weight into the blow. Bak Yerim let his punch slide past her uselessly, and in the next second, he’d been flipped flat onto his back, propelled forward by his own weight. To add insult to injury, she made sure to pad his fall so that his joints didn’t even rattle when he hit the ground.

“… Wow,” he said, still a little breathless from the impact. “That’s really impressive.”

“Right? Oh, Peace, stop it, it’s not like you don’t play with him all the time.” Peace had been knocked off of Han Yoojin’s shoulder with the maneuver and was making his displeasure known by yowling at Bak Yerim. “Oh! That’s right, the boss was asking after you. Why don’t you send him a message yourself? I think he’d like that better.”

“Yoohyun was?” Han Yoojin got up and dusted himself off. “Alright. How is he doing?”

“Don’t know. Probably sulking.”

Bak Yerim handed him the communication artifact she used to keep in touch with Han Yoohyun. It resembled a small stone slate with sigils etched into the edges. The slate didn’t have much room to write on, so Han Yoojin kept his words concise as he scribbled them onto the slate with his finger.

Doing fine. The scenery in Breaker is nice. Take care of yourself. Love, Yoojin.

With a tap to the sigils, the message glowed briefly, then disappeared.

“Huh? That’s it?” Bak Yerim was peering over his shoulder nosily. “The boss asked if you’ve been eating and sleeping well, and also if you’ve been doing anything dangerous, and also, he said that if you were doing anything dangerous, I should catch you before you get a chance to do it and then put you in a box until he gets here.”

… What was Han Yoohyun teaching her, exactly?

“… I’m not doing anything dangerous,” he said, because it was technically true. The most dangerous part would be engaging with the guards outside, which he was not involved in. “Don’t tell Yoohyun too much about the mission. Um, you can tell him that we’re here to buy something…”

Bak Yerim stared at him with big, round, accusing eyes. “As I thought, I should stick close to you after all,” she said mulishly. “I don’t like this part of the plan where we’re separated.”

“You won’t be allowed inside,” Han Yoojin said quickly. “You haven’t had your coming-of-age ceremony yet.”

“So? I’m already lying about my name. Can’t I just lie about my age, too?”

Han Yoojin shook his head firmly. “It’s not appropriate for kids. There’ll be alcohol and gambling.”

“Ahjussi,” Bak Yerim all but whined. “I’m one year away from my coming-of-age. And it’s not like I haven’t seen alcohol and gambling before. My uncle used to bet on cards and get blackout drunk every Thursday.”

“And that’s why you’re not living with him anymore. No buts.”

Bak Yerim pursed her lips unhappily, her gaze sliding calculatively to Sung Hyunjae instead. “It’s really not going to be dangerous in there, right?” She demanded.

Sung Hyunjae smiled ambiguously. “It won’t be dangerous with me around.”

“And he’s been eating and sleeping well?” She placed her hands on her hips.

“I’ve been keeping him well-fed.”

“Make sure to keep an eye on him at night. Sometimes he plays with Peace too hard and forgets to go to sleep.” She pointed reprimandingly at the furry orange cat, provoking an indignant meow. “Be quiet, Peace, this is your fault, too. You know he doesn’t have as much stamina as you.”

“I see,” Sung Hyunjae said thoughtfully. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

“—Hey,” Han Yoojin protested, feeling his pride sting. “I’m perfectly capable of looking after myself, you know. I’m not actually a pet that needs taking care of.”

“What? Pet? Are you switching places with Peace?”

Han Yoojin hurriedly cleared his throat. “Nothing, it was just an expression. Anyways, I’ll be fine, really. Tell Yoohyun there’s nothing to worry about.”

Bak Yerim continued to hesitate, finally stepping back with a sigh. “Fine, I’ll listen to you this time, ahjussi. But truth be told, I kind of agree with the boss. If it turns out that there’s any trouble… I think he deserves to know, don’t you think?”

Despite her young age, Yerim was really so considerate and mature that there was nothing for Han Yoojin to object about. Reluctantly, he forced a smile onto his face. “You’re right, Yerim,” he praised. “It’s good… that you’re able to think about other people’s feelings like this. Of course, if the situation gets bad… I’ll tell him.”

But even as he voiced his agreement, he felt the churning in his stomach that threatened to spill. Phantom memories drowned him—a dark cavern—an acrid stench—blood—Yoohyun’s blood—

Whatever he might say to Bak Yerim, he knew the truth deep in his gut—

That no matter what happened, Han Yoohyun absolutely mustn’t find out.

Chapter Text

“Peace, come on!” The site of the Auction drew ever nearer, but Han Yoojin was still engrossed in chasing down a wriggling cat in order to tie a bowtie around its neck. “You’re the star of the show tonight. Don’t you want to get your payback on those awful people who kidnapped you?”

Impervious to human logic, the orange cat darted between Han Yoojin’s legs and scampered up his back. Somewhere in between that and Peace wrapping itself around his neck, Han Yoojin finally managed to wrestle the bowtie onto the mischievous feline.

Of course, if it had genuinely wanted to escape, Han Yoojin’s physical capabilities wouldn’t have even grazed the dimension of being able to touch the cat. If one were to put a name to the behavior, then it would have to be… 

Attention-seeking.

Sung Hyunjae evaluated the fire manticore with a cool gaze. Perhaps sensing his displeasure, Peace puffed up defensively, the beginnings of a snarl on its lips. There was truly no end to the number of flies that swarmed around his Honey, that even beasts numbered among them.

“Peace, come on, the bow can’t be that bad, can it?” Han Yoojin sighed in defeat. “Fine, if you hate it so much, we can go back to the collar. Even though it’s so cute…”

Almost immediately, Peace let out a chagrined mewl, rolling pathetically onto its back and exposing its soft underbelly. When Han Yoojin began to rub its stomach with a helpless sigh, the cat butted his hand contentedly.

“Oh, so all of a sudden, you don’t mind anymore?” Han Yoojin shook his head with amusement. “Are you sure you’re not doing this on purpose?”

The run-down hotel from yesterday had been transformed into a beautiful, unearthly spectacle, with lights that resembled will-o’-wisps floating serenely around it in orderly rows that directed the guests toward the main entrance. Though the structure itself maintained its worn appearance, the hallmarks of age only served to enhance its otherworldly effect now. Disembarking from their carriage, the two of them followed the lights down the short path to the doors.

They had arrived on the later end, so by the time they entered, the event was already in full swing. Lavishly dressed aristocrats milled about the ballroom, attended to by uniformed servers carrying trays of refreshments and drink. Also scattered about the room were glass displays showcasing many of the artifacts they’d seen the day before.

“So they went with a silent auction,” Han Yoojin observed. Nearby, an elderly woman was writing something down on a piece of paper attached to one of the glass cases—making a bid.

“Only for the appetizers,” Sung Hyunjae supplemented. “Not all of the stock is on the floor.” The more expensive of the artifacts and weapons were missing, as were the baby monsters they’d seen before. Han Yoojin nodded in agreement.

A flurry of hushed whispers rippled through the room as they stepped inside. It wasn’t a surprise that their entry had garnered attention. For starters, Sung Hyunjae’s bare face alone stood out among the sea of masks. But for once in his life, he wasn’t the center of attention when he entered—the majority of the eyes in the room were focused on the fluffy orange puff on Han Yoojin’s shoulders.

“How cute!” A hushed exclamation drifted towards them from the crowd. “Is that really a monster?”

“No way,” someone else muttered. “A monster would bite your face off before letting you touch it. It has to be a normal cat with a horn glued on.”

“Peace,” Han Yoojin called, holding up a treat—a piece of premium bone stuffed with mana crystals. “Do a trick for His Grace?”

Peace yawned lazily before tilting its head up. A small bouquet of petal-shaped flames bloomed brightly from its mouth, illuminating Han Yoojin’s face with a soft orange glow and sparking another round of whispers through the crowd.

“Good boy,” Han Yoojin praised, tossing the treat lightly. The cat snapped it up out of the air eagerly before settling back onto his shoulders. Dusting off his fingers, Han Yoojin turned to Sung Hyunjae with a mischievous smile on his face. “Didn’t I promise to show you a trick? Does it meet Your Grace’s expectations?”

The last embers from the display of fireworks caught the sly curve of his lips just so, a beguiling, warm pink framed by the deceptive innocence of his fair and neat features. Sung Hyunjae was not the only one to notice the allure, judging by the way a few of the gazes in the crowd had shifted away from Peace.

“My Honey has never failed to defy expectations,” Sung Hyunjae said mildly, hand coming to a rest on Han Yoojin’s waist to pull him ever closer.

The flurry of whispers was still settling when the sound of a single set of hands clapping began to draw closer. Before long, an elderly woman made her way before them, her face hidden behind a deep blue jewel-encrusted mask. Marchioness Kiara Gray, a widow who had married into the kingdom from a wealthy family in the Republic.

“What a lovely display, my lord,” she said with a measured smile. In line with the etiquette for such events, she was pretending not to know his name and title—though not too hard, evidently. “As always, you find the most fascinating playthings. If you would satisfy an old woman’s curiosity, how did you manage to tame a monster?”

“I’m afraid I have no such talents,” Sung Hyunjae answered modestly. “It’s my lovely pet who was gifted with such an ability.”

At his cue, Han Yoojin bowed deeply, made just a fraction more difficult by the fact that Sung Hyunjae’s arm was still glued to his waist.

“How marvelous,” the noblewoman remarked. “When you start looking for a new place to put him, do consider sending him my way. I’ll make it worth your while.”

“My lady.” Sung Hyunjae’s voice took on a chill. “You overstep your bounds.”

She raised her eyebrows. “Ah. I see my request comes prematurely. Please excuse my words, then. In that case, may you enjoy the rest of your evening, my lord.” With a graceful tip of her head, she began to head back into the crowd. “And do send my regards to Sir Kang Donghoon.”

When the elderly noblewoman was gone from sight again, Han Yoojin looked at him quizzically. “Kang Donghoon?”

“An artist I once sponsored,” Sung Hyunjae answered.

“He piqued your interest?”

Sung Hyunjae shrugged. “I thought his style was unique, so I paid for his education. His work soon became quite derivative, though.”

“So you heartlessly abandoned him?” Han Yoojin guessed dryly.

“I simply stopped sponsoring him. His education was complete at that point. I heard he was able to do well enough for himself as a dime-a-dozen portrait painter. It was only a bit annoying when he repeatedly came to my door begging for an audience after being cut off.”

“I see.”

There was something about the meticulous flatness of the reply that gave Sung Hyunjae pause.

“It sounds like you have some criticism to level at me,” he probed with a light tone.

Han Yoojin glanced at him, his expression neutral. “No criticism. This is a world where you need to stand on your own two feet, after all. Kang Donghoon should simply have pocketed more of your gold while you were still in a generous mood.”

That drew a chuckle from Sung Hyunjae. “He wasn’t quite as sharp as you, Honey.”

Though the crowd that had gathered during Peace’s performance had dispersed, there was still no shortage of curious onlookers stealing glances their way. Han Yoojin had obviously not forgotten their presence either, furtively surveying their surroundings.

He seemed to hesitate for a moment, then tugged at Sung Hyunjae’s shoulder and stood on his tiptoes to bring his face as close to Sung Hyunjae’s ear as possible. Sung Hyunjae bent down obligingly to aid him, feeling the warm rush of Han Yoojin’s exhale against his skin.

“As we agreed, when I’m put onto the floor, you’ll make sure to place the highest bid, right?” Han Yoojin asked quietly. “Don’t you dare forget, or accidentally lose, or change your mind.”

Sung Hyunjae raised an eyebrow. “I seem to have lost some credibility,” he murmured in reply. “I wonder what prompted the lack of faith in my word?”

Han Yoojin scowled. “I just thought that I could easily imagine Your Grace saying, ‘It would be interesting to see what happens,’ and forfeiting the bid.”

Sung Hyunjae smiled tightly. “I can assure you that I have trouble thinking of a more tedious game.”

Han Yoojin nodded, looking a bit more reassured at his unequivocal affirmation. “That’s good, then. Even though the final result shouldn’t matter… still, if an accident happens and someone else wins, it would feel rather dirty.” He shuddered at the thought as he released Sung Hyunjae’s shoulder, lowering his feet back to solid ground. Then, as casually as if they’d been merely a pair of lovers exchanging flirtatious whispers, he plucked a plate of refreshments from the hand of a wandering server and offered it to Sung Hyunjae. “Something to eat, Your Grace?” He asked coyly.

“I do seem to find myself with an appetite for sweets quite often these days,” Sung Hyunjae replied with amusement.

“Hmm? I wonder if the papers would be shocked to hear that His Grace has yet to outgrow his sweet tooth.” Han Yoojin seemed to be genuinely tickled by the image he’d conjured up, the corners of his mouth ticking upwards in delight. His fingers carefully picked up one of the pastries on the refreshment plate, and he took a small, cautious bite, his eyebrows furrowing in deep concentration as he chewed slowly. Sung Hyunjae was just about to comment on the strange action when Han Yoojin finished chewing and swallowed, offering up the rest of the pastry to Sung Hyunjae. “It’s safe,” he stated.

Finally, it clicked into place.

The humor melted from Sung Hyunjae’s expression. “Your ability isn’t foolproof enough to be used to test for safety,” he warned in a low voice. “There are drugs that are designed to circumvent poison resistance.”

Han Yoojin looked at him as if he’d said something disgustingly obvious. “Yes?” He said patiently, as one might speak to a very young child. “That’s why I only took a small bite.”

The pastry was safe, of course. There was no reason to suspect that it would be otherwise, or Sung Hyunjae wouldn’t have allowed it anywhere near the two of them. Still, the knowledge did nothing to quell the flicker of impatience in his chest that seemed to flare up so often these days. And the worst of it was that there was no outlet for his frustrations within reach.

“It’s my mistake,” he said coolly. “I should have realized sooner that my Honey had a taste for dangerous substances. Then, you needn’t have resorted to ingesting unknown foods to try to satisfy yourself. Please allow me to rectify the oversight right away. Would you like to feel as if your whole body is on fire? Or would you rather become numb to all sensation? Ah, perhaps something more subtle—there’s a drug that makes the mind susceptible to even the most repugnant of suggestions. I can assure you that all of them will go through your impressive abilities.”

Han Yoojin clicked his tongue with annoyance. “I don’t need a lecture on the dangers of poisons. All of those substances are prohibitively expensive. Or, are you just trying to show off your obscene wealth? In that case, duly noted, I’ll continue to wring you dry as I please without guilt.”

“Honey.” The alias felt insufficient to contain the weight of his frustrations. He bent close enough to whisper. “Han Yoojin. I admit, I’m unaccustomed to having my thoughts so preoccupied with the possibility of loss. To put it another way, then—please be more careful. For my sake.”

Han Yoojin didn’t have a ready retort to that. Biting his lip, he glanced to the floor, fleeing Sung Hyunjae’s gaze. “I was careful enough,” he muttered. “If you don’t want it, then—”

Sung Hyunjae caught his retreating hand by the wrist before it could dart out of sight, bringing it—pastry and all—to his lips. The flaky crust and delicate cream filled his mouth with a sweetness that lingered even after he swallowed. Licking the crumbs from his lips, he took another bite—of the slender fingers still coated with pastry flakes and a light dusting of powdered sugar.

The sensation evidently startled Han Yoojin enough to draw a small hiccup of surprise from his throat. Sung Hyunjae was careful not to bite hard, just enough to hold the fingers in place as his tongue thoroughly cleaned off every trace of sweetness left on Han Yoojin’s skin. He was rewarded with the widening of those vivid eyes, accentuated by the simple black mask around them, and the gradual flush that crept up Han Yoojin’s neck and into his cheeks. Slowly, Sung Hyunjae pulled back, letting his teeth scrape gently across the sensitive pads of his fingers before releasing them.

“Delicious,” he said simply. “Though it does leave one wanting more.”

Han Yoojin’s mouth opened and closed without sound, uncharacteristically at a loss for words. “There’s… more on the plate,” he finally managed to choke out, after a few aborted attempts at speech.

“I would love to partake, but it seems our host has other plans,” Sung Hyunjae remarked mildly.

Han Yoojin followed his gaze to the stage that was set up near the front of the ballroom. The auctioneer from last night—the man named Henry Gregson—was climbing up one of the short sets of stairs onto the stage, a voice-amplifying artifact in his hand.

“Honored guests,” he began, extending an arm with a flourish, “I hope the early hours of the evening have found you well. I’m pleased to announce that we’re about to introduce the special guests of today’s event. Not only awakened with rare and unique abilities, but also monsters of all shapes and forms, even juveniles! As I’m sure you all know, juvenile monsters are unable to grow into their adult forms within the Wall, so they’re ideal to keep as pets or to add to your collection of exotic beasts.”

The sound of Han Yoojin’s teeth grinding was practically audible. Sung Hyunjae felt a grip on his arm—Han Yoojin’s fingers digging tightly into his sleeve in an effort to keep the rest of his posture relaxed. It was only really about half effective, but the attention of the crowd was elsewhere, anyways.

“I wouldn’t want to keep my honored guests in suspense for these exciting goods, so this portion of the auction will be done live,” the auctioneer said with a wink. “How does that sound?”

Murmurs of approval filled the room, along with the occasional laugh or clap of delight. The auctioneer basked in the attention of the crowd, a wide grin on his face.

“Fantastic! Then let’s start without further ado. First—let’s welcome the juvenile monsters onstage. We’ll be auctioning each of them off separately.”

As he spoke, a group of handlers was leading the monsters on stage. Unlike yesterday, they were fully conscious now, and each one had a crystalline collar of some sort around its neck, to which a thick, metal chain was affixed, being pulled by the handlers.

The two unicorn foals, though scared, seemed to at least be cooperating, if reluctantly—every couple of steps, they would stop and dig their hooves into the floor, only to be jerked along impatiently by one of the handlers. Judging by the ease with which they wrangled the monsters, the handlers were probably all upper mid- or high-ranked hunters, in terms of physical strength, if nothing else.

The baby gryphon, on the other hand, exhibited its distress much more aggressively. It let out harsh screeches, pumping its wings in futile attempts to fly free. The chain was given just enough slack that it could reach the edge of the stage and no further, and despite its furious tugging and thrashing, it got no closer to escaping the iron grip of its captor. At a particularly harsh dive that brought the gryphon close to plummeting off the edge of the stage, a wave of hushed gasps rippled through the crowd.

“Please don’t be alarmed,” the auctioneer reassured. “The collar on their necks has been equipped with a curse that prevents them from using their abilities, and our trained handlers are more than capable of subduing them with physical strength. As for the process of training them, we’ve saved that for the enjoyment of our honored guests. Now then, to start with, the black unicorn foal—”

“—Hold on,” Han Yoojin interrupted loudly, his grip sliding off of Sung Hyunjae’s arm. Without a second glance, he was already striding toward the stage, climbing the short set of steps that put him level with the auctioneer. Sung Hyunjae held back a wry smile—it was a bit off-script, but he supposed he would sooner be able to stop the moon from rising in the night sky than to stand in Han Yoojin’s way right now. Even if he’d wanted to.

The auctioneer’s face stiffened when he saw Han Yoojin. Evidently, the circumstances of their last meeting had not left him with a particularly favorable impression. Still, he forced the smile back onto his face. “Sir,” he said with an awkward laugh, “Guests are not allowed on the stage. Please understand. Although I have much respect for you and your honored companion, I will be forced to ask security to escort you back if you persist in interrupting the event.”

There were a couple of jeers and heckles in support of the auctioneer, but most of the crowd remained quiet, their faces alight with curiosity—no doubt recalling the spectacle of Han Yoojin’s entry.

Han Yoojin smiled sweetly at the auctioneer. “Of course, I’ll leave you to continue with the event soon. But I can’t help but feel that the products aren’t being displayed in their best condition right now. As a businessman, surely you have pride in showing their potential off to the fullest?” The auctioneer gritted his teeth, but it wasn’t his approval Han Yoojin was seeking—he turned to the crowd with a tilt of his head. “How does that sound?”

This time, the voices of agreement were much louder. And these were the wealthiest aristocrats of the kingdom and immediate surroundings—the crème de la crème, so to speak, at least when it came to unreasonably expecting things to conform to their whims. Reluctantly, the auctioneer signaled to the guards nearby to stand down.

“The satisfaction of tonight’s honored guests is my duty,” he said, with as much grace as he could muster. “But please refrain from any actions that might damage or harm the merchandise.”

“Damage or harm? You mean, like that?” Han Yoojin pointed at the handler still wrestling with the gryphon, pinning its wings roughly to the cold ground. Without waiting for a reply, he strode over, pushing the handler aside impatiently—to no effect, of course. However, with a nod from the auctioneer, the handler stood up uncertainly and stepped away from the gryphon, leaving Han Yoojin alone with it.

When the gryphon began to move again, Sung Hyunjae tensed. As a juvenile, the gryphon only had the strength and speed of a weaker mid-ranked hunter at best. It wasn’t that he didn’t have faith in Han Yoojin’s continued assurances, but it was good to have insurance. Even from this distance, he would be able to fry the gryphon to a crisp in an instant if it seemed more likely to strike at Han Yoojin than to listen to him—so, like the rest of the crowd, he watched with single-minded focus as Han Yoojin approached.

But despite having some idea of what would happen next, not even Sung Hyunjae was exempt from the burst of surprise that shook the room.

It was a little-known fact that the mana signatures of monsters pulsed at a frequency just slightly discordant to that of humans. In the first place, only those who had awakened could sense mana, and only the most seasoned elites were sensitive enough to it to distinguish the minute differences between the aura of a monster and that of a human. Even then, the distinction was rarely relevant—outside the Wall, the only other hunters you were likely to run into were your own squad. So it was relatively useless, if impressive, to understand that not only could you distinguish monsters from humans by their mana, but that if you watched closely, you could see the way those auras clashed and repelled each other, as if by divine mandate.

Sung Hyunjae, of course, was a seasoned elite—and besides that, he was chronically bored, so he had spent no small amount of time and attention simply observing the way that mana flowed—around people, around monsters, and around things. So he saw with crystal clarity the moment that Han Yoojin laid a hand on the young gryphon’s beak, and its mana signature shifted. Just the smallest of changes, too little to impact the gryphon’s characteristics or abilities, but enough that its mana no longer pulsed at odds with those of the people around it.

The crowd around him oohed and ahhed at the way Han Yoojin’s cautious touch turned into gentle caresses of the gryphon’s beak, into soothing whispers into its ears and comforting pats of its head. The gryphon didn’t reject him—why would it? Han Yoojin had no mana of his own, not even the tiniest drop that might trigger the creature’s instinct for self-defense. All that was left were kind words and a loving touch, and what living being would shun those?

But as for Sung Hyunjae—what captivated him was the way the mana around the gryphon continued to pulse at this new frequency, showing no signs of reverting. Now that he thought about it, Peace exhibited the same trait—and the same tolerance for people. And mana came from the wellspring of life—in a way, it was life. Probably no one else in the crowd realized that this was more than just a petty trick of gaining a monster’s trust or making it docile. Han Yoojin had transformed its very essence, the very core of its being.

Could that thing on the stage even be called a monster, still?

Sung Hyunjae could hardly hold back the grin that threatened to stretch his mouth impossibly wide. Surprise after surprise—he was almost afraid he would start to get greedy with how vibrant his life had become. Not only with delight and fascination, but worry, frustration, anger—a landscape of color utterly foreign to him.

With practiced calm, he ascended the steps to join Han Yoojin on the stage. The auctioneer’s expression nearly collapsed when he saw Sung Hyunjae approach, but he managed to keep the professional smile on his face intact.

“Honey,” Sung Hyunjae said in an even voice. “Haven’t I already told you not to pick up any more strays?”

Han Yoojin paused his petting of the baby gryphon, though he made no move to get up from where he was crouched on the ground. He glanced sidelong up at Sung Hyunjae, his lips curling coquettishly as his lashes fluttered in a nonexistent breeze. Was he even aware that he was making that sort of expression? Probably not, Sung Hyunjae thought idly. Just another of the many bittersweet tribulations of having such an enticing delicacy in his hands.

“But, Your Grace,” Han Yoojin pretended to whine, “Can’t we just take it home? It’s not like it will go with anyone else now.” As if to illustrate his point, he let go of the baby gryphon, but it only butted his chest with a pout, trying to burrow back into his arms.

Slowly, the problem of this new state of affairs dawned on the auctioneer. “Excuse me, Your Gr—Er, my lord. What do you mean… by that?” His gaze darted back and forth between Sung Hyunjae and Han Yoojin, sweat beading visibly on his face.

Sung Hyunjae gave an exaggeratedly weary sigh. “The beasts, you see, tend to be a little too fond of my Honey.” As he spoke, he stared pointedly at Peace, still clinging to Han Yoojin’s shoulders without even a shred of shame. “Once he tames them, they refuse to leave him alone. Even when it would really be more advantageous for them to do so.”

“This…” The auctioneer frowned, and mutters of dissatisfaction could also be heard from below. Evidently, more than a few people had had their hearts set on the gryphon.

“Hmph.” Han Yoojin snorted. “Isn’t it just a matter of gold? Don’t tell me your pockets are feeling empty, Your Grace.”

“Honey,” Sung Hyunjae said in a warning tone. “The coin is no issue, but I don’t need a pet who won’t listen to orders.”

“Is that right?” Han Yoojin finally stood up, walking up to Sung Hyunjae without a trace of hesitation. “I would have thought Your Grace would get bored rather quickly with a pet who only knows how to obey.”

His Yoojin knew him so well. Sung Hyunjae had to resist the urge to praise him.

All of a sudden, Han Yoojin reached up with both hands and seized the collar of Sung Hyunjae’s shirt. Curious, Sung Hyunjae let himself be pulled down, waiting to see what Han Yoojin would do. He was almost disappointed when his combat intuition spoiled the surprise for him as Han Yoojin raised a hand—and slapped him across the cheek with what looked like the entirety of his strength.

Sadly, it didn’t even tickle.

Still, his face seemed to tingle with a phantom warmth as he raised a finger, tracing the edge of the impact to savor it. Not even he could have anticipated that Han Yoojin would do something like this—but it was certainly effective.

A hush fell over the crowd in an instant. Frantic whispering began to fill the room, all eyes locked on him to see how he would react. Han Yoojin was staring intently at him, trying to signal something.

Escalate.

Well, Sung Hyunjae had no choice but to pick up his stage partner’s cue.

The Seeker’s Chains materialized in the blink of an eye, snapping Han Yoojin’s wrists together and pulling him forward until he staggered. Peace and the gryphon began snarling in distress, but Sung Hyunjae ignored them.

“Honey,” Sung Hyunjae crooned, “You crossed a line there. If you and the monster are a set from now on, then you might as well stay together—on your way to your new owner.”

There was no better excuse for giving Han Yoojin up for auction. It was something these vain, self-important aristocrats would expect for the perceived slight of being “humiliated” in front of all of his so-called peers.

“Fine by me,” Han Yoojin scoffed, even as his arms were pulled uncomfortably askew. “Maybe my next owner will be a little more considerate than Your Grace.”

Sung Hyunjae thrust his fingers into Han Yoojin’s silky hair, forcing his head to tilt upwards until he arched his pretty neck. “Your next owner will certainly have to consider how to break you in a little better.” He turned to the auctioneer. “Well?”

Having lost all control of the pace of the auction, the auctioneer could only sweat now. At Sung Hyunjae’s prompting he quickly straightened up. “Then—Uh, if that is what Your Grace wants, uh, we can proceed that way… Ah, the, the collar, for suppressing abilities… It’s standard procedure…”

Sung Hyunjae glanced at Han Yoojin, but he didn’t show any apprehension at the idea, nor did he try to signal in any way, so Sung Hyunjae gave the auctioneer a nod and held out his hand.

The collar was similar to the one that the gryphon was wearing, though without the metal chain attached in front. It snapped easily onto Han Yoojin’s neck, the sigils engraved on it glowing faintly as it activated. Once it was on, Sung Hyunjae released his grip on his hair and recalled the Seeker’s Chains, letting Han Yoojin’s body sag in exhaustion. Between getting dragged this way and that, his hair now fell in disorderly locks over his face, which glowed pink from exertion. The very picture of carnal ruin.

The auctioneer cleared his throat, desperate to regain some semblance of control over the proceedings. “Then,” he announced, “next, we will start the bidding for the monster tamer, with a opening bid of—”

“Wait a minute,” Han Yoojin interrupted, still a little short of breath as he lifted his head again. “Are you really going to auction me off first? I have my pride, you know. And as for you—have you clarified what cut of the profits you’ll be taking from my sale?”

The auctioneer stiffened. “Huh? But, His Grace said…” He trailed off, turning to Sung Hyunjae uncertainly.

Sung Hyunjae smiled beatifically in response. “I said that the two of them should come as a set, but, after all, Honey still belongs to me. So the proceeds of his sale would naturally be mine, no? Of course, we can subtract the gryphon’s portion.”

The displeasure on the auctioneer’s face was obvious—it was a terrible deal where he gained nothing but the opportunity to have free labor extracted from him—but he could hardly back out now after having agreed to it. Plus, the crowd would certainly be upset if he refused.

“You’re a businessman, aren’t you? Then, how about a trade?” Han Yoojin suggested. “Like I said, I have my pride, though. If you’re going to trade my value’s worth to His Grace, it would have to be at least… hmm… What was the centerpiece of the night again? The Queen of the Sea, or something?”

The auctioneer’s face paled visibly. “How did you…”

“Oh, was that correct?” Han Yoojin blinked innocently, aiming a flattering smile at Sung Hyunjae. “Wow, Your Grace, you really do know everything.”

Sung Hyunjae smiled ambiguously in response. This was his first time hearing about this so-called Queen of the Sea, but if Han Yoojin wanted to lay the blame at his feet, then he could only take it like a good stage partner. “I am quite curious to see the ‘Queen of the Sea’ in person.”

Sure enough, the auctioneer’s expression turned into resignation, as if saying, ‘As expected of Duke Seseong.’ He beckoned to one of the nearby guards, giving the guard an order in a low, urgent voice. The guard scrambled out one of the side exits of the ballroom, reappearing a short while later with an ebony box, which the auctioneer received carefully.

The box, it turned out, was an artifact in and of itself, dense rows of sigils encasing its entire surface. The auctioneer pressed a series of individual runes in a seemingly random order, and the box opened soundlessly.

As soon as the lid was raised, the ocean’s power swelled out of the little container and poured into the room, a surge of mana so torrential that even Sung Hyunjae had to catch his breath. The rest of the audience wasn’t quite as sensitive to the nature of the mana as he was, but judging from the gasp that echoed throughout the room, they could all feel the sheer power radiating from the contents of the box, the oppressive presence of something that could crush you in strength.

As for the source of the sensation—it turned out the Queen of the Sea was an aptly-named blue jewel cut in the shape of a teardrop, small enough to hold in the palm of one’s hand. If not for its impressive aura, it could have passed for a normal, if luxurious, blue sapphire.

“The Queen of the Sea, Your Grace,” the auctioneer said, holding the box up for Sung Hyunjae to inspect. “It was found in a ruins outside the Wall, and it’s said that its power is so potent that its siren call lures in humans and monsters alike. For centuries, this treasure has been locked away in the possession of the emperor of the Isles. Until now. Not only is it beautiful to look at, it would make for excellent material for a powerful and exquisite weapon or artifact.” Despite the turn of events, the auctioneer still projected the contents of his practiced description to the entire room, perhaps in hopes of raising its value above that of Han Yoojin in the eyes of these fickle aristocrats.

And indeed, Sung Hyunjae had to admit that it was an attractive piece. It was rare to stumble upon the ruins that occasionally materialized outside the Wall, since usually, only an elite with a trained support squad could make it far enough into the wilds to even find one. Full of tools and knowledge left behind by the ancients, anything acquired from a ruins was usually priceless in value. Added to the jewel’s self-evident power and its storied history as part of the emperor of the Isles’ collection, it would have made for a compelling finale piece—but that was only in a universe where Han Yoojin had not stormed the stage, radiating all the beauty and danger of a live tempest.

Next to Han Yoojin, it was really just a rock.

Sung Hyunje peered down at the jewel in the box, his expression one of practiced neutrality. “So, this is the item you want to trade. In other words, you’re asking if I believe my Honey is of equivalent value to this ‘Queen of the Sea’?”

The auctioneer’s forehead was covered in a light sheen of sweat. Even the most shameless peddler would be hard-pressed to say yes. A powerful artifact was just that, in the end—it couldn’t turn a low-rank hunter into an elite. But the potential to possess a small army of monsters? Now that was power.

Even more so, when it came in such a pretty package.

Ironically, the only person in the room whose attention was more captivated by the Queen of the Sea appeared to be Han Yoojin himself, his wide eyes fixed on the blue jewel, sparkling with no small amount of material desire.

“Honey, what do you think? Would this gem be a fair trade for your myriad talents?”

Han Yoojin looked at Sung Hyunjae in surprise, perplexion at being addressed written in the minute furrow of his brow. Nonetheless, he recovered smoothly. “Wasn’t it cherished for generations by succeeding emperors of the Isles? Its reputation seems a fair match for a man of Your Grace’s stature.”

Pensively, Sung Hyunjae rolled the response about in his mind. Even coming from Han Yoojin’s sweet lips, he found the idea increasingly repulsive—a bitter tonic that he held on his tongue, mulling over the strange notes in the unfamiliar flavor.

“My Honey’s words are as pleasing to the ear as always. But reputation, I find, is a meager substitute for good entertainment.”

Han Yoojin’s perplexion had deepened into suspicion now, eyeing him as if he might decide to bite at any second. “Entertainment is a pursuit with diminishing returns. I’m sure Your Grace is wise enough to understand the principle of enjoying the fruits of the harvest at their ripest, rather than waiting for them to spoil.”

Sung Hyunjae sighed deeply, as if thoroughly contemplating his words. “True as that might be, I find myself bereaved at the thought of being robbed of your company so prematurely.”

“Isn’t Your Grace always in search of new experiences? Then please think of the sorrow as a bonus parting gift,” Han Yoojin told him mercilessly.

Parting, Sung Hyunjae mused. Wasn’t that at the core of everything unacceptable about this?

After all, where would he even begin to look for another Han Yoojin? Han Yoojin, who would sit across the breakfast table from him and crack jokes over his dislike of bread crusts. Han Yoojin, who tried to shield him with just his fragile body and the limited resources at his disposal. Han Yoojin, who looked at Sung Hyunjae and saw someone to laugh with, to get angry at, to fret over.

Even if he were to scour the world—to scour this universe, and the next—he would likely never find another. More than just novel, more than just interesting—Han Yoojin was precious.

Han Yoojin was precious to him.

As soon as the realization struck him, Sung Hyunjae was seized by the urge to laugh. And laugh he did—loud, unrestrained laughter that shook his entire chest and even brought a mirthful tear to the corner of his eye.

It had suddenly dawned on him how comical this charade was—that every single person in this room was entertaining the notion that he might actually trade Han Yoojin for any amount of gold or however shiny a rock. It didn’t matter whether they believed he would agree—the fact that it was even within the realm of probability was itself the sheer height of absurdity. Although he felt a little apologetic to his hard-working stage partner, he could not, it seemed, tolerate prolonging this misunderstanding any further.

“Honey,” he said fondly, the corners of his mouth turning up in amusement at a private joke. “I’m touched that you’ve put in so much consideration for my sake, but I’m starting to feel a little hurt at how enthusiastically you’re trying to part ways. If I didn’t know better, I’d think that you were simply eager to say good-bye to me. Have I perhaps wronged you in some way?”

Han Yoojin rolled his eyes visibly at the question. “Of course not, Your Grace,” he said, his heavy sarcasm laced with saccharine sweetness. “I’m simply a person with realistic expectations. In some fantasy dream world, of course I’d like nothing more than to entertain Your Grace’s attentions forever.”

“‘Forever,’” Sung Hyunjae repeated. “I rather like the sound of that word. In the future, please keep in mind that you were the one who said it.”

“What—” Han Yoojin began, but Sung Hyunjae’s focus had already shifted.

A brilliant smile on his face, he turned back to face the auctioneer. “No deal,” he said simply. “I’ll be taking my Honey home with me. As for the noisy bird, feel free to charge whatever amount you’d like.”

“… My lord?” The auctioneer asked, looking stunned.

Whispers had begun to fill the room again, escalating into murmurs and even shouts of discontent. The auctioneer looked like he still hadn’t quite recovered from the shock of the sudden turn of events, and even Han Yoojin was staring at Sung Hyunjae, wide-eyed. He watched as those dazzling eyes blinked once, then twice, morphing from confusion into disbelief into alarm.

Sung Hyunjae smiled in genuine apology, but he couldn’t help the curl of excitement in his stomach in spite of himself. His cute, clever, resourceful, kind, daring, quick-witted stage partner—

What would he do next?

Chapter Text

Han Yoojin stared at Sung Hyunjae, slack-jawed with disbelief. Several choice names for the man came to mind, but he resisted the urge to say them aloud, if only because he’d have no face to tell Bak Yerim to mind her language after that.

A tremor through the ground shook him out of his stupor. It was just a light shake, barely strong enough to be felt, but he knew that it would quickly get much, much worse. Internally, he cursed. It was starting much earlier than he’d expected, likely because the gem had been taken out of its box earlier than in the past.

The only way out was forward, he decided. While the auctioneer and the rest of the room were still thrown off-guard by both the tremor and Sung Hyunjae’s sudden change of mind, Han Yoojin quickly snapped the stealth bracelet in place and activated it. The collar’s curse fumbled at him—it seemed that the human variant of the collar worked on attempts to use both artifacts and abilities—but with a flash of warmth from the sigil on his skin, the curse easily disintegrated.

“Hey—!” The auctioneer had only just noticed his disappearance when Han Yoojin surged forward and snatched the jewel, box and all, out of his hands. He quickly closed the box to stop the jewel’s oppressive presence from leaking out everywhere, and the bracelet’s stealth enchantment soon swallowed the box out of sight, too.

Although Sung Hyunjae wouldn’t be able to see him, Han Yoojin threw a dirty look his way. If you’re going to make a mess of things, at least help clean up, he attempted to project telepathically.

Whether or not Sung Hyunjae miraculously heard him, he did act accordingly. “Oh, my,” he said with an amused laugh. “My little bird seems to have flown the coop.” Sparks danced at the tips of his fingers, and the Seeker’s Chains lit up with electricity. “I suppose I’ll have to clip his pretty wings when I find him.”

“Your Grace!” The auctioneer exclaimed in relief. “He stole the jewel—you mustn’t let him get away!”

Han Yoojin, for his part, had no idea why the auctioneer seemed to be putting so much faith in Sung Hyunjae. Even on the best of days, Sung Hyunjae was capricious to a fault, and by all rights, the two of them had very much been at odds just a few minutes ago. But making judgments in a crisis was, apparently, yet another entry to add to the list of skills the auctioneer did not seem to possess. Sung Hyunjae was probably thinking along similar lines, because the corner of his mouth lifted in humor.

“Have the guards focus on the main exits.” Sung Hyunjae ordered. “Don’t leave a single inch of space between them. Make sure he doesn’t leave the building.”

“Y-yes! Do as His Grace says!” The auctioneer instructed. The guards rushed to comply, gathering to form a solid human wall around the two great double doors of the building that led directly outside—leaving only a few singular guards to man the smaller interior exits.

Han Yoojin very reluctantly gave Sung Hyunjae a seal of approval in his mind. Not that it was enough to make up for landing them in this mess in the first place.

There was a scream as lightning suddenly arced through the air, narrowly missing a small cluster of guards and guests. The occupants of the room quickly evacuated the area where the lightning had passed through, leaving behind a clear pathway in the wake of their movements. Without a moment’s hesitation, Han Yoojin took advantage of the now-empty space to dart toward the exit where the guards had brought the Queen of the Sea in from.

“Rest assured,” he heard Sung Hyunjae say in the distance behind him. “My lightning won’t strike anything that it isn’t intended for.”

Once through the door, Han Yoojin let himself slow down a little to observe his surroundings. It was the hallway he’d been through the day they’d found Peace, but now that most of the goods had been moved out of the storage rooms, it was significantly emptier. Unlike before, though, one of the doors at the end was locked with several layers of heavy padlocks—probably enchanted—and manned by two guards, likely high-rank ones. Unlike the guards inside the main ballroom, these two appeared to have no intention of budging.

Ducking into one of the empty storerooms to hide, Han Yoojin chewed his lips in thought, rummaging through his waist pouch. Finally, his eyes lit up when he pulled out a small, familiar bottle. Wasn’t this the gargoyle saliva that he’d wheedled out of Sung Hyunjae all those weeks ago? All things considered, it hadn’t been that long, but at the same time, it felt like a lifetime had passed.

“Peace,” he whispered urgently to the furry cat still clinging to his shoulders. “Can you distract them for me? Don’t get into a real fight, they’re probably stronger than you.”

Peace nuzzled his face in reply, then hopped off his shoulders. As soon as Han Yoojin lost contact with him, Peace’s orange fur popped back into view. At the same time, he cracked open the box in his hands, letting the Queen of the Sea’s dominating aura spill forth.

“Wh—What is that?!” One of the guards cried in alarm as Peace approached slowly. Although Han Yoojin couldn’t feel the jewel’s aura himself, even Sung Hyunjae seemed to have been affected by it, so he could only imagine how threatening it would feel to these two high-rank guards. “Is that feeling—Is it coming from this thing?!”

Peace bared his teeth, causing the guards to flinch. At the same time, another tremor rippled through the ground, even heavier than before.

“Hey,” the other guard said nervously. “Let’s… Let’s get some backup. I think this thing is stronger than we can take.”

The first guard looked uncertain. “But leaving our post will—”

“So what?” The second guard snapped. “Do you think this job is worth dying for?”

That seemed to persuade the first guard, and the two of them backed away slowly while Peace continued to growl. Finally, seeing that he didn’t seem to be chasing them, the two of them turned tail and bolted.

As soon as they were out of sight, Han Yoojin took out the gargoyle saliva and poured its contents generously on the padlocks. They sizzled and evaporated like so much dust, leaving the hotel’s original wooden door clean and bare. Wasting no time, he pushed it open and began to search.

The two guards from before could be back with reinforcements at any time. Furthermore, once Moon Hyuna’s forces began to move, the auction’s organizers would likely order the contents of this room to be evacuated first and foremost. Although it pained him to ignore the various valuables lying about the room, Han Yoojin forced himself to stay focused on the most critical thing—the ledgers.

Luckily, the security in the room itself was nearly nonexistent. There needed to be a certain amount of ease of access, and the organizers had probably figured the guards and padlocks would be sufficient. It only took a bit of lockpicking and brushing away a mid-rank curse to find the ledgers located inside a plain-looking black chest. After flipping through it to make sure it wasn’t a decoy, Han Yoojin clutched the book to his chest and fled the room.

Instead of leaving the area entirely, though, he dashed back into one of the now-empty rooms—the one where Peace had previously been kept. The empty cages were still there, the doors left ajar. Careful not to disturb anything, Han Yoojin slipped into one of the cages and huddled into a tight ball, slowing his breathing as much as possible. This would be one of the last places anyone would think to look for him, and with the aid of the stealth bracelet, he should be able to remain unseen until Moon Hyuna’s forces had swept the area clean.

“I have the ledgers,” he whispered, activating the enchantment on his earrings that connected to Sung Hyunjae. “Send the signal.”

Immediately, he heard a thunderous boom and a cacophony of screams erupt from the grand ballroom in the distance. A lightning strike through every window of the ballroom—it was an unambiguous signal that the Breaker forces couldn’t possibly miss. Han Yoojin exhaled slowly. It was done. All that was left to do was to wait.

He couldn’t relax too soon, though. The area was still swarming with guards and guests, and it wasn’t impossible that if anyone stumbled upon him during the chaos, they’d consider him a decent enough consolation prize for the ruined evening, with no one the wiser as to his fate. His limbs remained tensed, ready to spring at a moment’s notice, his every sense strung taut.

His fears proved not unfounded when he picked up soft footsteps coming from the door. Crouching in the corner of the cage in near total darkness as he was, it was impossible to see who the footsteps belonged to, but the intruder seemed to be in no hurry, meandering idly between the scant piles of boxes and empty cages.

Han Yoojin forced his breathing to slow, trying to remain as quiet as possible. He was still wearing the stealth bracelet, so even if someone came close, by all rights, they wouldn’t notice him. After all, what maniac would look for him inside a cage?

He realized he’d spoken too soon, though, when the footsteps soon stopped at the open door of his hiding place. Mentally, he swore—either the intruder was far more perceptive than the standard mid-rank hunter fare, or, they already had an idea of where he was hiding. Neither scenario was ideal for him.

Silently, he drew a knife from the pouch at his waist. It wasn’t much, just an average weapon with a minor sharpening enchantment, but he had the advantage of surprise. Beating his opponent would be a stretch, but he might be able to inflict enough damage to distract them and give him a chance to escape.

With absolute stillness, he waited as the unknown figure slowly pushed open the door, crossing the narrow confines of the metal bars—and then he sprung, aiming directly for where the stomach would be on a person of that stature.

He hadn’t expected to do much damage on a real hunter, but he’d been certain his invisibility should have at least made his strike difficult to deflect. Somehow, though, his opponent plucked his wrist out of the air with pinpoint precision, forcing him to drop the knife mid-swing and knocking the bracelet clean off. Both of his arms were then bent securely behind his head in a merciless hold, pulling an involuntary hiss from his teeth.

His first instinct was to struggle, but there was something bizarrely familiar about the grip on his wrists, the way his opponent’s frame pressed against his, the subtle aroma that wafted into his nose—

“… Sung Hyunjae?!” He gasped in disbelief.

“Guilty as charged,” the intruder said mildly.

Immediately, the tension drained from his body, pure, unadulterated relief flooding his veins in its stead. The sudden drop in adrenaline left him dangerously dizzy, his limbs feeling something like jelly.

“What are you doing?” He said with exasperation. “This is hardly the time to fool around.”

The hold on his arms did not slacken.

“I’m not fooling around,” Sung Hyunjae said matter-of-factly. “Didn’t you hear? I said that when I found you, I would clip your pretty wings.”

Han Yoojin clicked his tongue. “If I had such things, my prospects as a hunter wouldn’t have been so dim.”

“If you had such things,” Sung Hyunjae murmured, “I might be tempted to rip the wings off of your back to lock away.”

“That sounds like a rather bloody affair,” Han Yoojin said dryly. “Your Grace’s taste in entertainment is as questionable as ever, I see.”

“I’ve never been one to shy from blood on my hands,” Sung Hyunjae remarked in a light tone. “But when it’s yours, that’s a different matter.” He sighed tragically. “In the end, I suppose it has to be something like this, after all.” His finger traced the crystalline collar sealed around Han Yoojin’s neck as he spoke. “Though this one is unpleasant to look at.”

“The auctioneer would probably have the key,” Han Yoojin guessed. Such artifacts were typically easy enough to activate, but would require a companion key to unlock. “Once the Breaker forces apprehend him and the other auction personnel, they’ll be able to make him cough it up.”

Wordlessly, Sung Hyunjae withdrew something from his pocket. It was hard to tell in the darkness, but it looked like a rock made of roughly the same material as the collar. He touched it to the sigils on the collar, and it opened with a snap. Immediately, Sung Hyunjae pulled it off and threw it to the side distastefully as if it were a particularly foul piece of garbage.

“… Oh,” Han Yoojin said, bemused. “That saves some effort.”

Sung Hyunjae chuckled meaningfully. “As you can see, my Honey is always at the forefront of my thoughts. Don’t you think I deserve a little reward for my dedication?”

Han Yoojin raised his eyebrows incredulously. “You want a reward? After going completely off-script earlier? I see Your Grace’s exceptionality leaves one as speechless as ever, at least in the department of shamelessness.”

“I’ve also properly reflected on my shortcomings since then,” Sung Hyunjae said modestly. “So, in the interest of positive reinforcement, don’t you think I also deserve a reward for that?”

Han Yoojin snorted. “And what shortcomings did you reflect on?”

“Obviously, that I haven’t been devoting enough attention to my Honey’s well-being,” Sung Hyunjae answered immediately.

“Ha.” Han Yoojin’s scoff reminded him that his arms were still pressed into an unforgiving bend, his hips and legs beginning to strain from the unnatural angle at which he was forced to hold himself. He attempted to elbow Sung Hyunjae, without much success. “If you’re so concerned about my well-being, then let go, first. It’s uncomfortable.”

Sung Hyunjae released his arms without argument, the sudden disappearance of his grip nearly sending him toppling. Only Sung Hyunjae’s hand on his back in support prevented the inevitable, painful rendezvous of his rear with the cold, hard ground.

“So,” Sung Hyunjae reminded. “About my reward.”

“You aren’t planning to let that go, are you?” Han Yoojin said with a roll of his eyes. “What is it that you want so badly?”

“Mm, well. I’m finding it difficult to forget the taste of that dessert from earlier, you see. So I’d like another bite.”

“Is that so? Then I’m afraid I can’t help you, I don’t have any more,” Han Yoojin told him crossly. “Maybe Duke Breaker’s guards found some while raiding the kitchen.”

“Hm? That isn’t the case, though?” Sung Hyunjae said with amusement. “Isn’t there plenty, right… here.” His finger came to a rest lightly just below the collar of Han Yoojin’s shirt.

“… Your Grace,” Han Yoojin said suspiciously, “I’m in no hurry to become a victim of cannibalism anytime soon. Nor am I eager to lose any limbs, digits, or pieces of flesh.”

“That’s a relief to hear,” Sung Hyunjae said mildly. “I do prefer all of my Honey’s flesh exactly where it is on your body.”

“For that matter, that’s where I like my blood to stay, too,” Han Yoojin informed him. “Inside my body, that is.”

“What a coincidence, we have so much in common. At this rate, don’t you think we’re fated to be a pair?”

When Han Yoojin only continued to eye him warily, Sung Hyunjae laughed and bent closer.

“It’s just a bite,” he whispered. “I’ll let you have first pick of everything from the raid, how about that?”

Han Yoojin’s ears perked up.

“… Well,” he said hesitantly. “If it’s just one bite—a very little one…” It seemed like… it was harmless?

It was hard to see in the darkness, but he thought Sung Hyunjae’s smile widened.

The hand placed on his collar moved to the buttons of his shirt, deftly undoing the top few and folding the fabric down neatly, exposing the bare skin of his throat and clavicle. Sung Hyunjae’s fingers came to rest on his collarbone again, no longer separated by a barrier of fabric. Slowly, they teased in circles, wandering around the hollow of his throat.

Han Yoojin swallowed. As his throat bobbed, he felt the pressure of Sung Hyunjae’s finger against it. “… Aren’t you taking your time too much?” He breathed.

“I only get one bite, after all,” Sung Hyunjae murmured. “I have to pick the most tender piece.”

Having spoken, he did finally lower his head, his hand on Han Yoojin’s back pressing firmly as if to bring him closer. The dull pain that he expected never came—instead, it was the curious flick of a warm tongue and the closing of soft lips at the hollow of his throat. He couldn’t stop the gasp that fell out of his mouth as those lips began to suck, gently at first, then with greater insistence.

Even though Sung Hyunjae’s focus remained fixed on the same spot, the heat from his mouth seemed to spread through Han Yoojin’s entire body, radiating across his tingling skin and invading even the furthest tips of his fingers and the deepest recesses of his gut. It was then, and only then, that he realized how badly he had miscalculated.

Harmless, he’d thought, when it couldn’t be further from the truth.

Sung Hyunjae pulled away with just a playful nibble, a feather-light brush of his teeth against Han Yoojin’s throat. But he didn’t break the silence immediately, his fingers continuing to play with the location of the bite as if it were the world’s most fascinating toy.

Even though Han Yoojin couldn’t see Sung Hyunjae’s gaze in the darkness, he imagined that he could feel it—an intense and heavy weight that bore down on him. More potent than any drug, more binding than any curse. One that his abilities had no power against, that left ordinary men addicted, crawling and begging for just another drop. A shudder ran down his spine.

Because for all that he had lucked out on a spectacular set of skills, Han Yoojin was, in the end, painfully ordinary.

And it wouldn’t even be the first time he’d been reduced to begging.

“Are you cold?” Perhaps noticing his shudder, Sung Hyunjae swiftly closed the buttons of his shirt back up. “My Honey is so delicate. Next time, I’ll have to remember to pick a warmer location.”

“… I’m not cold,” Han Yoojin muttered, swatting away Sung Hyunjae’s hands and turning aside. On the contrary, he felt hot, too hot. “And there is no next time. It was a one-time offer.”

“That is cold,” Sung Hyunjae said softly. “Should I wrap my arms around you? Would that warm you up?”

“That isn’t—” Han Yoojin snapped, but he caught himself and took a deep breath. There was no point in getting worked up about this now. He should know better. Sung Hyunjae expected him to know better, or he wouldn’t be so liberal with his playing. This had always been the deal, from the very beginning. “This isn’t the time for jokes. We should check the situation outside. The hunters you sent from Seseong are already in position, right?”

“As promised, they’re waiting at the Breaker fortress,” Sung Hyunjae answered.

Han Yoojin nodded. He made to exit the cage, but unexpectedly, Sung Hyunjae moved to block his path.

“You’re upset. Is it because of me?”

“I—I’m not upset,” Han Yoojin denied. “It’s been a long night. I’m just tired.”

“… I suppose it was wishful thinking to presume that I have the capacity to upset you,” Sung Hyunjae said wryly. “Still, am I not even qualified to offer comfort?”

“I don’t need comfort. I just want to finish what needs to be done.”

Sung Hyunjae was quiet for a while. Then, he sighed. “So it’s to do with your brother, after all?”

“My—” The question was so unexpected that Han Yoojin froze. It felt like he’d forgotten how to breathe.

“I don’t know why you’re always so worried about him when he’s perfectly capable of looking after himself, but, I’ll give you my assurances that I’ll watch out for him, too. Nothing will happen to him as long as it’s within my power—just as nothing will happen to you. If it makes you feel better, I won’t even pick on him...” Sung Hyunjae paused. “—that much.”

Han Yoojin tried to speak, but what came out of his mouth sounded like a noise made by some ghastly amalgamation of a frog and a donkey.

“Don’t be so harsh on me,” Sung Hyunjae defended himself. “It’s difficult enough when he’s the one you’re always showing favoritism to. You have to give me some concessions, or even I won’t be able to stand the heartbreak of only being Honey’s second favorite.”

“… Fifth,” Han Yoojin croaked.

“Fifth?” Sung Hyunjae repeated, with exaggerated shock.

“After Yoohyun, Peace, Yerim, Yoo Myeongwoo…”

“There’s a name I don’t even recognize in there. That’s really unfair, Honey. How can I compete with someone I don’t even know?”

Han Yoojin laughed, the sound hoarse and reedy, dragged out of his unwilling throat. He hated that his heart leapt at Sung Hyunjae’s every word, and he hated that Sung Hyunjae’s touched melted away his fears no matter what.

After all, who was Sung Hyunjae? The strongest hunter in the world, the owner of the highest seat in the land. The most coveted man in the kingdom, in all manner of ways. He was akin to the sun in the midday sky, the moon on a starry night. And who was Han Yoojin? A worm in the dirt, flying on borrowed wings.

Yet even so—

“It will be sixth soon,” Han Yoojin told him. “I think the baby gryphon is already much cuter than you. Maybe even seventh, after the dragon egg hatches.”

Sung Hyunjae sighed forlornly. “It’s a never-ending struggle to carve a place for myself in young lord Yoojin’s heart. But, still, I’ll fight valiantly.” His thumb brushed softly over Han Yoojin’s cheek, coming to a rest at his chin to cup it gently. “So, don’t make that face.”

“… I only have the one face,” Han Yoojin said sarcastically. “It’s not like I can swap it out for another.”

Even so, like a foolish dog that never learned its lesson no matter how many times it was beaten—

He couldn’t stop himself from reaching for something he could not have.

Chapter Text

Moon Hyuna stood at the parapets of the Breaker fortress, the howling wind blowing through her hair the only other witness to the strange sight below. She had sent most of her confidants off to deal with the surge in monsters past the Wall, so there was no one beside her to whom she could voice her doubts as she watched her latest visitors stroll in through the great entrance.

Bak Yerim, Haeyeon’s miracle rookie.

Sung Hyunjae, the duke of Seseong.

And… Han Yoojin.

How should she describe Han Yoojin?

At a glance, his similarity to his brother was there in a superficial way, but where Han Yoohyun was all sharp angles with a violent temperament, his older brother had a cute, unassuming face and a calm demeanor. Even the cat-like orange creature on his shoulders looked fluffy and harmless. But Moon Hyuna had heard the whispered rumors and the reports of her hunters from the Auction.

Monster tamer.

It was only when her three visitors passed the entrance gates and approached the inner courtyard that she leapt down from the parapet, landing thunderously on the reinforced tile as little pebbles of debris sprayed toward her visitors. Bak Yerim, who was riding solo, merely shook the pebbles out of her clothes and hair like so much dust—it might as well have been dust, for all the harm it would do—but Sung Hyunjae elegantly lifted the corner of his red cloak to shield himself and Han Yoojin from the spray.

What an unnerving guy.

Even as a fellow elite, there was something about Sung Hyunjae that had always unsettled her. Perhaps it was the way he seemed to look down on anyone he spoke to, no matter their rank or title. Perhaps it was the sheer unpredictability of his personality and his moral compass, or perhaps it was simply his uncanny battle prowess and his skill at reading people, the way it felt like he was peering into your mind at every step. Regardless, though she wouldn’t call their relationship poor, it wasn’t like she was keen to be in his company much, outside of sparring.

Most of the other elites she knew of felt the same. Even Choi Sukwon, before his death, had spent no small fraction of his time trying to steer clear of Sung Hyunjae, like a dog skulking about with its tail between its legs. And that was without even taking into consideration the lower-ranked hunters. Even within Seseong, only a select few could stand to converse with him normally—his gutsy deputy, Kang Soyoung, for one, or that shifty foreigner, Evelyn Miller.

As for the sight of a hunter so weak as to be practically unawakened, stuck to Sung Hyunjae like glue? It was unheard of.

Or rather—when it came to the question of who was stuck to who, that remained to be seen.

Sung Hyunjae dismounted first, turning back to offer a hand to Han Yoojin, still seated atop the horse. But rather than take the proffered hand to jump down, he merely used it to support his weight as he bent down, whispered something fast and low in Sung Hyunjae’s ear, then straightened back up and leapt off the other side of the horse. Although Moon Hyuna had no idea what he said, she saw the corner of Sung Hyunjae’s mouth turn upwards just beyond the arc of his usual enigmatic smile.

She felt goosebumps rise on her skin.

“Hyuna-unni! ” Bak Yerim leapt off her horse and came bounding over, and Moon Hyuna caught her in a playful headlock.

“Yo, Yerim,” she greeted. “Ready to catch some big fish today? You’ll have your work cut out for you.”

Bak Yerim wriggled easily out of her hold and launched herself into the air, out of Moon Hyuna’s reach. “Yes!” She said excitedly. “Ahjussi told me the plan on the way here.”

“Duke Breaker, Your Grace.” Han Yoojin came forward to formally greet her, giving the same commoner’s bow as before. This time, she was prepared for it, but perhaps that was why the oddity of it struck her even more. It was the correct form and angle for a commoner’s bow in every way—and therein lay the strangeness of it, because most commoners had never had the training in etiquette to produce such a precise form. It was a sight every bit as mismatched as Han Yoojin himself. Look, it seemed to shout. Titles and ranks—what do such things matter to me?

“Hey, big bro,” she greeted. “Let’s not stand on ceremony with each other, yeah? You can just call me by name.”

Han Yoojin tilted his head and blinked. “All right,” he accepted easily. “Then, Moon Hyuna, could you tell us the current status outside the Wall?”

For some reason, Sung Hyunjae gave her a nasty stink-eye, sliding an arm around Han Yoojin’s waist in a way that he probably thought was quite slick. On another day, she would have directed a rather offensive gesture at him, but given the urgency outside, she chose to ignore it this time.

“Like you said,” she said wearily, “Last night, Mt. Bhabar… woke up.” She paused, the reality of the situation still not quite setting in. “We were scheduled to have a patrol stop there, but luckily, because of your warning, we had them stand by and observe, instead… That probably saved their lives.” She sighed heavily. Who could have expected a mountain that had sat within the boundaries of Breaker jurisdiction for centuries to secretly be an ancient, slumbering monster?

Han Yoojin nodded. “How fast is Bhabar approaching the Wall?” Despite the absurdity of the situation, he displayed unnatural calm. In a way, his attitude was reassuring—and the thought of that almost made her chuckle, an elite like herself looking for reassurance from an ordinary person.

No, that wasn’t quite right. There was nothing about Han Yoojin that could be called ordinary.

“At its current pace, it would take about five days to reach us,” Moon Hyuna answered. “It’s not moving particularly fast, nor is it actively aggressive—but it eats just about everything in its path. Boulders, trees, mountains… There’s nothing we can do to slow it down.”

“That’s fine,” Han Yoojin reassured. “Five days is plenty. It will only take us about a day’s ride to reach it. You, Yerim, and Duke Seseong—between the three of you, that should be enough offensive power to kill it.” He hesitated for a moment. “… Probably.”

“And if it’s not?” Moon Hyuna asked with uncertainty. “Do we request aid from Haeyeon?”

“No,” Han Yoojin said quickly.

“No?” Bak Yerim asked in surprise. “Why not?”

“Yoohyun is… Duke Haeyeon’s elemental attribute is fire. It’s not a good matchup for this monster. Rather than waste our time looking for more elites, it would be better to rely on support abilities to make up the difference.”

Moon Hyuna frowned. The reasoning sounded logical, but…

“Most of our support hunters can’t even get close enough to the monster to, well, give support,” she said with a shake of her head. “The pressure it gives off is too strong. It’s… it’s far stronger than an elite. I’ve never seen anything like it. It’s like something out of a legend or a myth.”

“The first of the myth-ranks,” Han Yoojin muttered quietly.

“What was that?” Moon Hyuna squinted at him.

“Nothing.” Han Yoojin shook his head. “As far as support, I’ll use my attack-boosting skill.”

“Han Yoojin,” Sung Hyunjae cut in suddenly, an unusual edge to his voice. Moon Hyuna’s eyes flew to him in surprise. It was only after he’d spoken that she realized how odd it was that he’d been quiet up until now.

Han Yoojin didn’t seem fazed by his oppressive tone, turning to meet his gaze with a level stare. “I’m the only offensive support you can bring to a fight with a myth-rank monster right now,” he said. “I need to be there.”

Sung Hyunjae was unnaturally quiet for a few moments, his eyebrows drawn together with emotions that Moon Hyuna couldn’t quite name. He looked frustrated, or even a little lost, maybe, the expression somehow alien on his face.

“Is it that you’re eager to throw your life away, or are you simply impatient to place it in my hands?”

Han Yoojin tipped his chin up, a provocation in his voice that bordered on insulting. “Should I not put my faith in my future employee?” His fingers hooked around the clasp of Sung Hyunjae’s cloak, tugging it demandingly. “Job prospects are in tatters these days, after all. You’d best keep me alive if you still want that position as my potential butler and/or tailor.”

After a sigh, Sung Hyunjae smiled, but it was a smile tinged with resignation. “True enough,” he murmured. “I’ll have to give it my all for the sake of my future.”

Moon Hyuna looked away—to the ground, to the sky, anywhere but at these two. The moment felt too private, too intimate, leaving her a lumbering intruder—even though it was her fortress, she grumbled to herself.

“Yerim,” she muttered, placing her hands over Bak Yerim’s eyes. “You’re too young to watch. It’s bad for your development.”

“Huh?!” Bak Yerim exclaimed.

Moon Hyuna exhaled deeply. “Don’t worry about it. You’ll understand when you’re older.”

Han Yoojin cleared his throat. “Then, if there are no more questions, let’s set off. Peace, you stay here.”

The orange cat whined mournfully, its claws digging deeper into Han Yoojin’s shirt, and possibly even scratching skin, if the wince on his face was anything to go by.

“Don’t act like this, Peace,” Han Yoojin sighed. “We went over this already. You’re still not fully-grown yet. A monster of this strength would be too much for you. Look, even the mid-rank hunters aren’t coming.” 

Gently, he pried the cat off of his shoulders and set it on the ground. As soon as it was released, the cat attempted to hop back onto his shoulders, but Sung Hyunjae intercepted it mid-leap and tossed it carelessly to the side.

“Peace! Don’t throw him so roughly,” Han Yoojin reprimanded.

Sung Hyunjae glanced at the orange cat. “Peace, was that little toss too much for you?” He asked with fake concern. “You’d better stay here and recuperate quietly, then.”

The orange cat bared its tiny fangs with a low growl, up until Han Yoojin bent down and patted its bristled fur. “Once you’re grown up, you can come with us, alright?” He soothed. “For now, stay here where it’s safe.”

The cat crouched down with another pitiful mewl, but it didn’t try to follow this time as Han Yoojin walked away and climbed onto his horse. Sung Hyunjae followed behind him, slinging his arm over Han Yoojin’s now unoccupied shoulder. With his back turned, he missed the thinly veiled look of triumph that Sung Hyunjae shot the orange cat, left behind on the courtyard tiles.

Moon Hyuna let out a snort.

Quickly saddling and jumping onto her own horse, she spurred it into a trot to follow them out of the gate. Even though they were speaking in subdued tones, she could easily pick up the sound of Han Yoojin’s acerbic voice and Sung Hunjae’s low laughter.

How should she describe Han Yoojin?

The ruined scion of a great House, a weak hunter without any means of defense, a pitiful toy caught in the machinations of the rich and mighty—it was clear that whatever initial impressions she’d had of him were comically incorrect.

He was strange, she decided. More so, perhaps, than even the company he kept. Han Yoojin was… strange.

As soon as they left the confines of the wall, the sound of fighting rang through the air. All of the spare fighters from Breaker and Seseong had been gathered here to hold this line of defense against the incoming monster surge.

“Let me give them a hand!” As easily as breathing, Bak Yerim pushed off from the back of her horse and leapt into the air, twirling her spear to summon a storm of icicles. They crashed into the crowd of monsters below, crushing more than a few of them to dust.

“Save your strength a little,” Han Yoojin reminded. “We have to head straight to Bhabar. It’ll be a much tougher opponent than anything here. Let the others handle this.”

“Got it, ahjussi! ” Flickering through the air, Bak Yerim stepped back onto the back of her moving horse, as casually as if she had never left.

Han Yoojin glanced at her, his hands clenching surreptitiously underneath his cloak. Steeling himself, he took a deep breath and said, as nonchalantly as he could, “Yerim, can I borrow the communication artifact you use to speak with Yoohyun? I want to send him a message.”

“Hmm? Oh, sure!” Bak Yerim didn’t think twice before handing him the small tablet.

“Thanks. I’ll give it back soon.” 

Swallowing the twinge of guilt in his chest, he slipped the artifact into his waist pouch. He hadn’t been lying—he would give it back as soon as they were done with this mission. Once there was no chance of Yoohyun being called over accidentally in some moment of urgency.

He didn’t need to turn his head to know that Sung Hyunjae was probably scrutinizing him from behind with some amount of judgment. Instead of a harsh rebuke, though, he only felt a tightening of the arm around his waist. If he didn’t think too hard, he could even believe that it was meant in comfort.

Even with half a day’s journey left to go, Bhabar’s faint silhouette soon became visible in the distance. It wasn’t difficult to tell how it had been mistaken for a mountain—its craggy back was covered in boulders and rock, and a veritable forest of gnarled trees and brush had settled on it as their permanent home. Even now, the only things distinguishing it from a real mountain were its unblinking eyes and toad-like limbs, lumbering slowly but indomitably towards the Wall. Each time a massive foot stomped to the ground, the earth beneath it trembled.

“You didn’t tell Moon Hyuna the cause for its awakening,” Sung Hyunjae remarked, a low whisper in his ear.

Han Yoojin pressed his lips together. “I don’t know how much I can trust her as an ally yet.”

If Moon Hyuna knew that the Queen of the Sea was the cause of it all—both the rush of monsters pouring toward Breaker and Bhabar’s inexorable march—it was difficult to say whether she’d remain as enthusiastic in taking them down. It was better if she continued to think of it as a problem for Breaker—the unconditional cooperation of the duchies would be critical at this juncture.

“If it really gets bad, it won’t be too late to use the Queen of the Sea as a lure,” Han Yoojin muttered. Its aura was mostly contained right now by the box, but once the monsters got a fresh whiff of its scent, they would undoubtedly all change course to pursue it. “Or, what, do you have any objections?”

Sung Hyunjae chuckled softly. “No objections. I just find it thrilling to share a little secret with my Honey.”

… Alright, he shouldn’t have expected anything decent to come out of this guy’s mouth.

The mood gradually became more tense the closer they got to the mountainous beast. Although Han Yoojin couldn’t feel it himself, he could tell by the grim expressions on the others’ faces that Bhabar’s overwhelming aura was bearing down on them. Even the normally chipper Bak Yerim was wearing a somber expression.

“The monster’s weak point will be on the back of its neck,” Han Yoojin explained as they began to approach striking distance. “The rest of its skin will likely be too hard to break. It also has a strong regenerating ability, so we’ll only have a moment to take advantage of the strike.”

“The neck, huh?” Moon Hyuna eyed the giant toad, sizing it up. “Let’s give it a shot.”

In a couple of quick leaps, she scaled the giant toad, positioning herself on one of the lumps on its back. The toad seemed to pay no mind to the small insect hopping around its body, not sparing her so much as a glance.

Han Yoojin watched nervously, his palms sweaty as he clutched the sides of his shirt in anticipation. Although he vaguely remembered the descriptions of the monster from the other timeline, seeing it in the flesh was another matter entirely. It was hard to say how their strength would stack up in reality.

Moon Hyuna’s dive was flawless as she kicked off her perch for momentum, her spear driving into the monster’s flesh at just the right angle. The impact of her blow split the layer earth that had accumulated on the giant toad’s skin, sending the rocks and dirt around it flying into the air, and for a moment, it looked like she might’ve struck true.

But then the dust settled, and it became apparent that she had succeeded in doing little more than sweeping the debris off a bit of the giant toad’s neck. Not only had she barely penetrated the skin, but she hadn’t even inflicted enough damage to draw the toad’s attention. Han Yoojin’s fingers curled more tightly around the fabric.

Seeing the lack of reaction from the monster, Moon Hyuna’s face fell, and she leapt off its back to rejoin the group. “Tch. No luck. That monster’s skin is the hardest thing I’ve ever seen.”

Han Yoojin’s brow furrowed. If he was to boost Moon Hyuna’s attack, would she be able to pierce the skin? It was possible, but it would leave open the risk that they still wouldn’t have enough offensive power to deal a killing blow.

“Sung Hyunjae,” he said in a low voice, “With your strength doubled, do you think your lightning would be able to go through the skin?”

There was a wry note in Sung Hyunjae’s voice. “There’s only one way to know.”

Yes, that was true. In fighting an opponent with so many unknowns, nothing could be said for certain. Closing his eyes, Han Yoojin’s fingers wandered to the sigils carved onto his chest. There were the ones that provided his immunities, and below them… To grow. To bond. To guide. Swiftly, he connected his life force to the first rune in that line, and immediately, he felt Sung Hyunjae’s already-tempestuous mana swell beneath his fingers in answer.

Sung Hyunjae let out a sigh. “There’s no getting used to this feeling, it seems.”

Han Yoojin blinked, studying his face with concern. “Does it feel unpleasant?”

Sung Hyunjae smiled playfully. “If I said that it did, would my Honey kiss the pain away?”

“I see, you’re vigorous enough to joke, at least.” With a scowl, Han Yoojin turned back to the monster. “Then, please redirect some of your vigor to that thing. Don’t hold back on my account.”

Saying so, he drew his cloak more tightly around him. It was the lightning-resistant cloak they’d found at the auction—and it had surprisingly come in handy sooner than he’d expected. The last time he’d used this ability, they’d relied on Sung Hyunjae’s excellent control to ensure his safety, but that had been against high to elite-ranked monsters. There was no room for holding back when it came to a myth-rank, so he’d have to rely on the gear to protect himself from any stray electricity. Between the cloak and the dragonhide set… he chewed his lip nervously. Well. It would be fine. Probably.

“Young lord Yoojin is saying nonsense as always,” Sung Hyunjae murmured.

He raised his hand, lightning gathering on it with a rate and intensity that dwarfed anything else Han Yoojin had seen from him. The brightness of the current soon began to make his eyes tear up, and he had to close them and turn his head away to stop them from burning. Thus, he could only hear, rather than see, as the clink of chains and a reverberating crackle indicated that Sung Hyunjae had struck. The equipment must have been more effective than he’d expected, because he didn’t even feel so much as the prick of a static shock.

When Han Yoojin opened his eyes again, it was to the faint smell of burning flesh and a powerful tremor through the earth. By the time he’d looked up to see the giant foot crashing down on top of them, Sung Hyunjae had already jumped off their horse to dodge it. The landscape turned into little more than a dizzying blur of color and noise, and Han Yoojin closed his eyes again to avoid doing something grossly untimely, like vomiting.

“It definitely felt that,” he gasped, after they had dodged far enough to avoid the toad’s rampage.

“Only enough to anger it, it seems,” Sung Hyunjae said lightly. “How embarrassing. It appears I’m not capable enough to fulfill my Honey’s request.”

Despite his words, there was a brightness to his eyes that didn’t speak of embarrassment in the least. This insane bastard, he was probably thrilled to have an opponent that wouldn’t roll over belly-up in one hit, wasn’t he? There had been rumors in the other timeline that Sung Hyunjae had disappeared because he’d gone off far into the wilds, looking for stronger and stronger foes…

Han Yoojin shook his head to clear his thoughts. He was about to speak, but there was something about the way Sung Hyunjae was holding himself that seemed unnatural. Frowning, he realized that the smell of charred flesh hadn’t dissipated, despite how far they now were from the monster.

“You—”

Urgently, he peeled back the edge of Sung Hyunjae’s red cloak. Being a top-tier piece of defensive equipment, the red cloak was naturally intact, but underneath, Sung Hyunjae’s right sleeve had been scorched to shreds, revealing the gruesome sight underneath. Lightning burns that crawled from his hand towards his shoulder, his entire arm red and bleeding and even burned black in some parts. Han Yoojin was no stranger to blood, but even so, his fingers began to tremble.

“This—Why… When I said not to hold back, this isn’t what I meant!” Despite his prodigious innate lightning resistance, not even Sung Hyunjae would be immune to the results of concentrating twice the potency of his already stunning power into one arm. “I already told you I was going to use the lightning-resistant cloak! This isn’t what we talked about!”

Sung Hyunjae only hummed in response. “It’s not what you talked about,” he said mildly. “I don’t remember agreeing.”

Han Yoojin couldn’t even muster up a response to the childish answer. Instead, he began rummaging through his pouch for a high-rank potion, too incensed to speak. He always kept his first aid equipment in the most accessible location, so he was able to pull one out quickly and begin pouring it over Sung Hyunjae’s arm, breathing a sigh of relief when the flesh began to knit back normally. “Luckily, it’s just to the degree that a potion can heal this time. Don’t be so reckless again. What, are you thinking it’s cool to play at heroics or something? It doesn’t match your face or your personality at all. Instead, you should just keep being obnoxious and self-important and inconsiderate…”

“Are you worrying about me?” Sung Hyunjae tilted his head. “What a rare treat. It’s quite nice. If I’d known that a little injury was all it took…”

“Don’t even think about it,” Han Yoojin snapped. “Who’s worried about you? If you pull this trick again, I’ll ignore you for a week, and I’ll make Yerim be the one to take care of you. I’ll tell her to only give you bread with the crusts on for your meals, and if you dare peel them off, then I’ll have Peace eat all of the fish in your garden pond.”

“So, I still get someone to take care of me on my sickbed?” Sung Hyunjae remarked. “Even when you’re angry, my Honey is quite lenient with me.”

“You—!”

“Han Yoojin,” Sung Hyunjae interrupted. “I also had my own considerations. So, it was a calculated risk for my own benefit.”

Despite the playfulness in the curve of his lips, there was a strange intensity to his gaze that made it difficult to come up with a retort. Han Yoojin felt his breath stop, and he tore his eyes away, willing the pounding of his heart to settle. “Anyways, don’t do it again,” he said quickly, without much force. “For now, let’s… regroup with the others.”

The giant toad’s violent leap had scattered their group to the winds, but nobody appeared to be injured—with the exception of the poor horse that they’d rode in on. With Sung Hyunjae leading, it took them very little time to reunite with Bak Yerim and Moon Hyuna.

“Wow!” Moon Hyuna breathed, shielding her eyes with her hand as she gazed into the distance. The giant toad had returned to plodding along towards the wall, its rage apparently satisfied with the one leap. “I haven’t had a monster give me a run for my money like that in quite some time. It’s a pity it’s such a danger to the Wall. It would be fun to play with it some more out here.”

“It’s too slow,” Bak Yerim disagreed, wrinkling her nose. “It doesn’t even try to chase us when we hit it, and we can’t do any damage to it, either. It’s like punching a rock. Even a training dummy is more fun than this.”

“It’s slow right now, ” Moon Hyuna corrected. “Did you see how fast it jumped earlier, though? I reckon if we make it mad for real, it’s not going to let us off as easy as last time. So, big bro,” She said with a grin, hefting her spear on her shoulder as she glanced at Han Yoojin. “You got any more plans in that big brain of yours?”

For a few moments, he didn’t respond. “... If Yerim freezes it,” he finally said slowly, “It would make the skin more brittle.”

“Huh.” Moon Hyuna cocked her head. “True, if it’s not so leathery, it might shatter.” She scratched her chin in thought. “Will that be enough? Its skin felt pretty thick, earlier.”

“... It might be enough,” he answered in a low voice. “But it might not be.”

“Should we try it?” Bak Yerim said eagerly. “I haven’t gotten a chance to hit it yet!”

“And if it jumps at you this time?” Moon Hyuna teased. “Are you sure you’re ready to play tag with a big frog? Or will we have to bring home a little Yerim pancake?”

Han Yoojin closed his eyes.

“Surely the young lady won’t steal all the fun,” Sung Hyunjae commented. “I was just getting warmed up earlier. Another strike should do it.”

“No way!” Bak Yerim exclaimed. “You’re the one that’s made it the most mad so far. You don’t get another try! Ahjussi, tell him!”

“Young lord Yoojin would side with me, of course,” Sung Hyunjae said primly. “On account of our deep bond of trust and affection.”

“Hey, hold on,” Moon Hyuna cut in. “If we’re taking another crack at it, I want another go. I was only testing the waters for all of us earlier, alright? Now that I know what we’re dealing with, I can really go all out. Isn’t that right, big bro?”

The chatter in the air faded away, the silence pregnant with expectation. Even with his eyes closed, Han Yoojin could feel the weight of their gazes on him as they waited for an answer, but his thoughts were a thousand miles away.

“... If we call Yoohyun.” When he finally did speak, his voice came out more hoarse than he’d anticipated. He cleared his throat, but no matter what, it felt like there was something stuck in it. “If we call Yoohyun, we can break through its skin. But…”

He swallowed. Nobody spoke to interrupt him. Behind him, he felt Sung Hyunjae’s hand on his shoulder squeeze once.

“Don’t let anything happen to him. Please,” He finally ended. “Or yourselves.”

A moment of silence followed, Bak Yerim the first one to shatter it. “Huh? Is that all?” She planted her hands on her hips. “Here I thought you were going to say something big, ahjussi. Of course I’m not gonna let anything happen to the boss, he still owes me for—I mean.” All of a sudden, she stopped, covering her mouth with her hands.

Moon Hyuna raised an eyebrow and laughed. “You have a real cute side to you, too, big bro. Sure, I’ll keep an eye out for Haeyeon’s young master. Though I don’t think he’d appreciate it.”

With a soft exhale, Han Yoojin let out a breath that he hadn’t realized he’d been holding. Logically, he knew that Han Yoohyun would be fine. Even though it was strong, Bhabar was nothing like the monster from that time, and there were three other elites here, besides. Still, there was a weight on his chest that he couldn’t shake.

Nonetheless, he forced himself to reach into his waist pouch and retrieve Bak Yerim’s communication artifact, keenly aware of the eyes on him. Sung Hyunjae was one thing, but it wouldn’t be good to lose his composure in front of the others. Bak Yerim was still at an age when she needed to feel that adults were reliable, and he wasn’t familiar enough with Moon Hyuna to risk that.

He was still trying to formulate a coherent message to Yoohyun in his head when he pulled out the small stone tablet and abruptly paused. Where it should have been blank, waiting for him to write, there was instead a line of words already displayed.

Where is your daily report?

Han Yoojin’s eyes widened, a sinking feeling of dread in the pit of his stomach. He tapped one of the glowing sigils at the edge of the artifact, and the line of words faded and rearranged themselves into new ones.

Bak Yerim, answer.

Tap.

Did something happen to hyung?

Tap.

And the last one—two simple, blunt words that seemed to sear themselves into his vision.

I’m coming.

He stared at the last line for what might’ve been several minutes, until the sound of Bak Yerim’s voice jolted him out of his thoughts.

“… Hey, what is that?” She asked, squinting into the distance toward the Wall. “Is that another monster heading this way? It looks kind of familiar, though…”

Trailing off mid-sentence, her eyes widened suddenly.

“No way, isn’t that Peace?!”

Chapter Text

Normally, being outside of the Wall filled Han Yoohyun with lightness, with a sense of freedom, but right now, the weight on his chest couldn’t be more crushing. His fingers clenched the orange fur beneath tightly as the landscape streaked past him in a blur of color.

The words of the Breaker guards still rang in his ears. Beyond the Wall. A monster of mythic strength. His older brother seemed to be attracted to danger like a moth to flame, but even compared to everything before, this had Han Yoohyun feeling sick to his stomach, his guts twisting in a way that threatened to seize.

It was worse than every single time he’d been notified that another common drunken thug or vitriolic baron’s son had decided that a fallen aristocrat would make the perfect punching bag to vent their frustrations on, worse than when he’d been informed that his brother had begun sticking into his nose into the illegal expeditions that went looking for ruins in the deep, deep wilds. Worse, even, than the morning that he’d walked into the Haeyeon’s great hall to find their House’s own guard surrounding his brother—the person who, by all rights, should have been commanding them.

He’d come to understand vividly that day not to take his brother’s words at face value.

The beast underneath him rumbled in dissatisfaction, and he loosened his grip. Should he call it chance or fate, that he’d found him at the Breaker fortress?

It was strange. When he’d entered the fortress—the only thing on his mind to extract news of Han Yoojin’s location by any means necessary—what he’d stumbled across instead had been a small squad of Breaker hunters nervously surrounding the snarling orange beast, who was throwing his body desperately at the gates. At first, he’d mistaken him for a stray creature that’d wandered past the Wall somehow, but when he’d drawn his sword to cut him down, the Breaker hunters had waved his sword away tearily with pleas and cries.

The moment he’d locked eyes with the creature, he’d known. It wasn’t perception so much as intuition, the type of understanding that could only be drawn from perfect synchrony.

“He left you behind, too,” he’d realized.

It was some sort of luck, at least, that the monster was far faster and more durable than the horses they usually rode out on patrols. Riding him cut his travel time in at least half, possibly more, because there was no need to slow or stop to deal with troublesome monsters on the way. Often, the orange beast would open its mouth, spitting out ravenous flames that consumed any stray obstacles before Han Yoohyun had even drawn his sword or summoned his own fire.

Like this, they soon saw the mythic creature’s silhouette ahead of them on the horizon. There was a moment when it jumped, suddenly, crashing to the ground with a tumultuous quake that nearly threw the orange beast off-balance, and Han Yoohyun with it. He felt his heart freeze over. There was no need to urge the orange creature on—it seemed to summon all the strength left in its body to burst into a sprint.

It was a relief, at least, not to find Han Yoojin in the vicinity of the giant monster itself. Concentrating his senses, Han Yoohyun pinpointed the direction where three elite-ranked presences seemed to be, his thoughts racing all the while. One of the presences was unmistakably Bak Yerim’s cool, surging mana, so that had to be where his brother was. As for the other two—one was Moon Hyuna’s breezy, straightforward aura, and the other—

That bastard, Sung Hyunjae.

Han Yoohyun ground his teeth in hatred. Everything had started going wrong because of that man. The tail he’d arranged on Han Yoojin had suddenly lost his trail one day, and a few weeks later, he’d received that damned letter from Sung Hyunjae, only to find his missing brother at the Seseong fortress for some reason. And from there…

There had been a moment, after reconciling with his brother, that he’d allowed himself to hope. To naively believe that everything could return to how it’d been. He’d willingly closed his eyes to all of the inconsistencies in his brother’s words, the strange changes in his behavior that even three years of estrangement couldn’t explain. And then his brother had left again, as suddenly as he’d returned.

When Bak Yerim had sent word to him that Sung Hyunjae had joined them on the trip to Breaker, it had taken all of his self-control and then some not to set out right then and there.

Han Yoohyun had molded himself into the image of a good younger brother for years and years, clinging to his hyung’s every word and admonishment. But no matter how skilled at it he’d become, how easily he squeezed himself into the role like a second skin—his nerves had been stretched taut past the breaking point over the past three years, dry tinder waiting to catch. Wouldn’t it be easier, his instincts whispered, just to simply burn everything away? Himself, his hyung, and everything that stood between them. Wouldn’t it be simpler?

Without Han Yoojin, there was no Han Yoohyun, anyways.

Before his roiling emotions had even transformed into conscious thought, they were already spilling out of him in waves of inferno, tall flames that licked at the vaulted ceiling of the sky and spread their flickering arms, covering everything the eye could see. They devoured grass and brush where it existed and danced upon barren rock where it did not.

When Han Yoohyun finally saw four figures in the distance, the flames burned even higher, a dark, bloody black tinged with red. It didn’t matter who the other three were—one of them was unmistakably Han Yoojin. He would recognize his brother anywhere, from any distance, from any angle. As Han Yoohyun leapt off its back, the orange beast skidded to a stop a short distance away, mewling pitifully at his brother.

Without a moment’s pause, Han Yoohyun drew his sword and pointed it straight at the hateful face of the interloper who’d stolen away his brother. “Get away from my hyung,” he snarled.

Sung Hyunjae only raised his eyebrows.

It was Han Yoojin who spoke first, his expression troubled, a furrow in his brow. “Yoohyun,” he said, taking a step forward. “Calm down for a moment, first. Let me explain.”

“I didn’t ask you,” Han Yoohyun hurled viciously at him. “Come here quietly, hyung. We’re leaving.”

The crease in his brother’s forehead deepened even further.

“I know there’s a lot I didn’t tell you,” he tried again, “but if you’ll just listen—”

“Hyung,” Han Yoohyun interrupted. “I don’t want to hear it. Just come here.”

Han Yoojin’s face crumpled, then, just a little. It tore further at Han Yoohyun’s sanity, but his every nerve sang with tension. His sword remained trained on Sung Hyunjae, practically itching for him to make a false move. But as the minutes ticked by, Han Yoojin still didn’t step forward. Instead, it was that bastard who spoke.

“That’s no way to speak to your respected older brother,” Sung Hyunjae commented leisurely. “Did he spoil you too much to teach you manners?”

Han Yoojin’s expression turned sour. “Yoohyun is usually polite,” he muttered. “Today… It’s my fault.”

“I see,” Sung Hyunjae nodded. “Is that what you say every time something like this happens? ‘My little brother did nothing wrong, I’m the one to blame, so please don’t be harsh with him,’ and so on? That’s how you end up with a child with no discipline, my dear Honey.” The corners of his mouth curled upwards. “Luckily, I’m more than happy to discipline him on your behalf.”

Han Yoohyun’s skin seemed to tingle for just a split second before the lightning struck. Moving on pure instinct, he stepped backwards, the bolt crashing down onto the ground where he’d just stood. But it didn’t stop there—a second bolt chased after him, and then a third, forcing him to continue dodging backwards.

It wasn’t until several steps in that he realized that he was being led—or rather, driven. His realization came too late to halt his momentum in time. He could only turn his head powerlessly to see the last bolt descend from behind, crackling with twice as much power and intensity and landing just a hair’s breadth away from him as he skidded to a halt. The dirt and stone was scorched pure black where it struck, the cracks radiating outwards, glittering where the sandy rock had been burned to glass.

It should have hit him.

By all rights, Sung Hyunjae was not someone who would miss a shot like that. Han Yoohyun turned his head just to confirm, and sure enough, that bastard met his eyes with a level gaze and a smug upturn of his lips.

“Sung Hyunjae!” Han Yoojin whirled around and seized the bastard by the front of his cloak. “If you try to hit my brother again, see if I don’t let go of you, attack boost or not!”

“It was just a warning shot,” Sung Hyunjae soothed. “I promised, didn’t I? Not to harm a single hair on his head.” Though the words were spoken to Han Yoojin, he didn’t break eye contact with Han Yoohyun for even a second as he spoke, the provocation latent in his voice.

I won’t do anything to you, and you can’t do anything to me.

Han Yoohyun ground his teeth. If Han Yoojin would just move, if he would just step away, he would be able to strike at Sung Hyunjae without hesitation. But with how close the two of them were positioned, he couldn’t guarantee that a stray flame wouldn’t burn his brother, or that Sung Hyunjae wouldn’t use his brother as a living shield.

Perhaps sensing his mounting hostility, even Bak Yerim and Moon Hyuna were on guard now, weapons drawn and readied—pointed directly at him. Slowly, they inched closer to Han Yoojin, forming a solid wall around him. Strangely, the sight brought a modicum of calm to Han Yoohyun. Although he couldn’t think of a single positive reason for why three elites would have dragged his defenseless brother outside the Wall to combat a monster like this, it seemed, at least, that they were committed to his safety—even if the opponent was Han Yoohyun himself.

“Stop that!” Han Yoojin shouted, waving away Moon Hyuna and Bak Yerim’s spears. “Don’t point those at him—that’s my brother!”

Abruptly, he grabbed hold of Sung Hyunjae’s hand and elbowed the two of them aside, stomping toward Han Yoohyun. For some reason, Sung Hyunjae allowed it, not even so much as seizing back control of their momentum, so that it gave off the illusion, absurdly, that his fragile, delicate older brother was the one dragging the world’s strongest hunter along.

“Yoohyun.” When he’d closed the distance between them—Sung Hyunjae, hatefully, still in tow—Han Yoojin finally spoke. His free hand reached out, tentatively, but he seemed to think better of it, his fingers curling hesitantly in midair, then falling back to his side. “Yoohyun, I’m sorry for keeping… all kinds of things from you. I’m the one who took Yerim’s communication artifact, so she couldn’t report to you. I didn’t realize you’d worry so much.”

“Hyung.” Han Yoohyun’s voice cracked pathetically. “Even though I’ve told you over and over to just live quietly, to let me handle everything… And this time, too, leaving without saying a single thing about why you were going… I thought that things would change because you’d apologized, but how is this any different from before?! Whether it was three years ago, or now—Isn’t it just that, no matter what, you won’t trust me?!”

“No, that’s not it!” Han Yoojin blurted out. “I just… I also worry, you know? That you would get hurt here. That’s why… It’s not that I don’t trust you. There’s no one in the world that I trust more.”

Han Yoohyun grit his teeth. “How can I believe that? With everything you’ve been hiding since you came back? Bak Yerim—did she really come to Haeyeon by coincidence? Or that fire monster—how long have you been keeping it, for it to be so attached to you? And him.” He spat the words, glaring ferociously at Sung Hyunjae. “Since when did you get so close to Seseong?”

At each successive accusation, Han Yoojin winced. “... I did tell Yerim to find you,” he admitted. “I ran into her just before she awakened. I guess you could say I helped her with it. But I thought it wouldn’t be good if you knew, since we were still on bad terms at the time. As for Peace, um, the fire manticore… it was around the same time, I guess. I found him wandering around in the wilds. And going to Seseong…” He hesitated. “Um, it was a little after that. It was… to make a trade, initially. And things sort of… went from there, I guess.”

Han Yoohyun scanned his brother’s face intensely, his impulses running in a million different directions. “Hyung,” he said hoarsely. “A few months ago, when the people I had tailing you couldn’t find you—where exactly were you?”

With a deep breath, Han Yoojin closed his eyes. “It’s… like you’re probably thinking. I went on an illegal expedition. And I ended up in a ruins.”

“Hyung!”

“I know, I know,” Han Yoojin said wryly, his lips twisting in a bitter smile. “ Hyung won’t do it again.” After a soft sigh, his voice dropped to a low murmur, his eyes lowered to the ground. “I… lost something very precious there. So, I’ve learned my lesson.”

Han Yoohyun bit his lip. “Really?” He asked, half-threatening, half-pleading.

Han Yoojin nodded. “Really.” It looked like he tried to smile reassuringly, but there was a despondency in his face that caused the reassurance to fall flat. “You know, it might sound like an excuse now that we’ve gotten to this point, but I really was about to tell you about… this.” He gestured vaguely at their surroundings with a laugh that sounded a little hollow. “It turns out, hyung can’t do it without you.” He sighed, a soft, reedy breath that trickled out of his lips. “I need your help, Yoohyun.”

“Of course I’ll help. If you’re being threatened somehow, just let me take care of it.” Han Yoohyun glared fiercely at Sung Hyunjae as he spoke. “No matter what it is, Haeyeon is strong enough. I can figure something out.”

“What?” Han Yoojin blinked, looking genuinely taken aback. “No, that’s not it. Sung Hyunjae is—everyone is also here to help. With that.”

He pointed at the towering silhouette in the distance, the lumbering giant continuing its indefatigable march toward the Wall.

Han Yoohyun fell still.

“Hyung,” he said in a low voice. “That sort of thing is none of your business.”

“How can it be none of my business?” Han Yoojin asked incredulously. “If it reaches the Wall, everything as we know it will be gone.”

“That’s a matter for hunters, ” Han Yoohyun's voice rose, practically to a shout. “Not you!”

“It is a matter for me!” Han Yoojin snapped back. “Because all I’ve ever wanted is to live peacefully with you again!”

Han Yoohyun had no response to that. They both lapsed into an uneasy silence, Han Yoohyun stone-faced as his brother massaged his temples.

“… Why is it so difficult?” Han Yoojin mumbled. “Even though you’re the person I care about most, Yoohyun.”

Han Yoohyun lowered his eyes, his mouth pressed into a taut line. Finally, he spoke, as if admitting a terrible secret. “It scares me so much, hyung. Remembering how little I knew in the past, or thinking about how easily you’re put in danger. Is it really so impossible for you to live quietly?”

His brother let out a long breath at the question. “… Hearing that sort of thing used to get me so worked up.” He shrugged, a little helplessly. “It’s impossible for me to sit still while you’re out here, facing things like this. It… it scares me, too, Yoohyun. The thought of you being in danger. More than you could possibly imagine.”

“Hyung. I’m strong,” Han Yoohyun said quietly.

“I know. But you’re still my baby brother, in the end.”

There was a long silence. It was a sentence he’d heard many times before—with pride, with joy, with anger. And in the end, it was his one and only older brother. Han Yoohyun exhaled slowly. “What do you need my help with?”

At the question, Han Yoojin’s shoulders sagged in relief. “You’ve seen the monster,” he stated.

Han Yoohyun nodded.

“Its skin is too thick for any one person here to pierce. If we want to have a shot at taking it down, it will take the cooperation of everyone here.” Han Yoojin explained the plan in quick, hushed tones

As he listened carefully, Han Yoohyun furrowed his brow. “Even if the idea is sound, Bak Yerim is inexperienced, and the rest of us have never fought together… on the same side. We don’t have the coordination for it.”

Han Yoojin bit his lip. “Yoohyun,” he said tentatively. “You know how I said… I went into a ruins?”

At Han Yoohyun’s frown, he rushed to continue speaking.

“I found something in there… that might help. Well, truthfully, I’ve never used it for a situation exactly like this yet, but I think that it would work.”

“… You found an artifact in there?” Han Yoohyun’s frown deepened. “That would help us coordinate?”

“I guess… you could say it’s an artifact…” Han Yoojin continued to chew his lip. “It’s a bit different from other artifacts, though, so I can’t really show it to you.” He hesitated. “I’m sorry, Yoohyun. There's a lot that I can’t explain just yet. Some are… difficult to talk about. And there are things that are hard to explain. But still, please trust me. I’ll tell you everything… slowly, when I can.”

After another stretch of silence, Han Yoohyun gave a stiff, jerky nod of his head.

In response, Han Yoojin slowly extended his free hand, palm held up in offering. As soon as Han Yoohyun took his hand, he felt a thread probe at the edge of his consciousness—tender and warm and so unmistakably his hyung. Almost without thinking, he let it in, but when he blinked, everything around him still looked and felt the same.

“Han Yoojin?” It was Sung Hyunjae’s voice, a soft tone that seemed incongruent with the man. He placed a steadying hand on Han Yoojin’s waist. His hyung was holding his forehead, a wrinkle of concentration on his brow.

“Hyung?” Han Yoohyun asked with alarm.

“It’s nothing.” Han Yoojin shook his head. “It’s just a little disorienting. Yoohyun, how do you feel?”

“… The same,” Han Yoohyun answered. “Hyung, are you really fine?”

“I am. Really. It just takes a bit of focus to process.” He turned to Sung Hyunjae. “Don’t do anything strange.”

Sung Hyunjae raised an eyebrow, slowly and deliberately lifting their joined hands. Han Yoohyun bristled as the bastard placed a kiss on his brother’s knuckles. “You’ll have to be more specific what you mean by ‘strange,’” the bastard said lightly.

“That, just now,” Han Yoojin grumbled. “ That was ‘strange.’”

Han Yoohyun felt it the moment his senses were connected to Sung Hyunjae’s. It wasn’t that he could read the other’s thoughts, exactly, but he could read the intention of movement, as surely as if it were his own limbs that he intended to move. And for a moment, he thought that he must have been reading them wrong, because so much of it was an echo of his own mind. What he would have done, what he wanted to do. If it were him, standing in that place right now.

Because it was all completely, totally centered on Han Yoojin.

Where to place his hands to support his brother’s weight if he stumbled. How to position himself to provide the quickest and most complete defense if something or someone suddenly attacked. The range of motion that his weapon would have, while still covering Han Yoojin’s fragile body.

There were other intentions, too, that had never crossed his mind. To shift upwind of Han Yoojin—was that so the harsh dust wouldn’t blow into his eyes? Not to block his line of sight to Bak Yerim—true, his brother would probably fret, even if only subconsciously, if he couldn’t keep her in view during this tense encounter. And not to…

Han Yoohyun looked toward Sung Hyunjae.

… Not to stand in between him and his brother.

Sung Hyunjae locked gazes with him, the only change in his expression the slight curl of his lips.

Han Yoohyun’s eyes narrowed, but for the first time that day, he felt a sense of defeat. His hyung was his entire world. There was nobody else in the world who would do as much, give as much for Han Yoojin’s sake. And it wasn’t that he doubted that now. But…

‘Safety’ had always been a straightforward concept to him. For three years he had dedicated every waking moment to ensuring his brother’s safety, to prying him away from every wayward danger. And not once had he ever considered whether his brother might be bothered by dust in his eyes.

It was Han Yoohyun who looked away first.

“Yerim, Moon Hyuna.” Han Yoojin gestured at them, and they both came at his call—one bouncing in front, one striding behind. “So… I assume you heard most of it,” he said awkwardly.

Moon Hyuna scratched her head. “Well… it’s not that I was trying to listen closely,” she answered diplomatically. “But there’s no need to repeat the plan.”

Han Yoojin laughed dryly. “It’s good to save time on words,” he said half-heartedly, removing his hands from Han Yoohyun’s and Sung Hyunjae’s. Even with their physical connection broken, Han Yoohyun could still feel the thread of connection to his brother—and to Sung Hyunjae, whose filthy arm was still joined to his brother’s waist. He glared at it spitefully.

When Moon Hyuna and Bak Yerim’s senses joined theirs, Han Yoojin staggered, and it was that bastard’s filthy arm that caught him, his weight supported solidly between it and Sung Hyunjae’s torso.

“My Honey is ever fond of pushing himself too hard,” Sung Hyunjae murmured.

Han Yoojin closed his eyes and tilted his head back, resting it against Sung Hyunjae’s chest. “I don’t want to hear that from someone whose arm looked like that earlier. If you dare pull something like that again, I’ll… Well, anyways, don’t.”

“Young lord Yoojin. I’ll listen to any number of unreasonable requests from you. But not that one.” As he spoke, he unclasped the red cloak from his shoulders and settled it on Han Yoojin’s shoulders.

Han Yoojin cracked an eye open to squint at him suspiciously. “What now, is the one cloak not enough? Do I look like a clothing mannequin to you? I’ll tell you now, even for shop window mannequins, nobody would have such poor taste as to layer two cloaks like this.”

“It’s my Honey whose taste is in question,” Sung Hyunjae shrugged. “Wanting to play with both fire and lightning at once. Especially when there are children around who haven’t yet grown out of throwing tantrums.” His gaze slid deliberately back to Han Yoohyun as he spoke.

“Ladies, please,” Moon Hyuna groaned. “You’re both very pretty. Can we get back to stabbing the frog now?”

Bak Yerim didn’t speak, but she nodded approvingly, arms folded.

Han Yoojin sighed and turned toward the fire monster, who had been pacing anxiously nearby for some time now. “Peace,” he called, holding out his arms. “When did you get so big? Don’t tell me, it was really because I said to wait…?”

Seeing his outstretched arms, the orange creature immediately dashed toward him. At the apex of its leap, its limbs abruptly shrank, and it was only the size of a cat by the time it landed neatly on his shoulders. Even Han Yoojin looked stunned to see it.

“… No way, don’t tell me that you were actually grown this whole time?” He shook his head and laughed. “I guess it doesn’t matter. Peace, will you help Dad out a little? Moon Hyuna, if you ride Peace, that will help with the timing after Yoohyun’s fire.”

Moon Hyuna cackled, rubbing her hands together. “You don’t have to ask me twice. Does that make me the second person in the world to ride a monster?”

“Argh!” Bak Yerim exclaimed. She looked at Peace with big, round eyes. “Peace, Peace, we’re good friends, aren’t we? Haven’t I fed you and played with you and brushed your fur?”

Peace’s nose twitched wetly as he licked himself, seemingly oblivious to the two of them. It was only after a leisurely yawn and a stretch and another nuzzle against Han Yoojin’s cheek that he jumped down to the ground and returned to his normal size in a burst of flame. With a hoot of excitement, Moon Hyuna mounted the flame lion, grinning back at them.

“Last one there is a rotten egg!” She shouted, right before Peace shot forward.

“Hey! That’s cheating!” Bak Yerim cried, breaking into a sprint as well. She vanished almost instantly, reappearing over their heads in the distance.

There was a faint smile on Sung Hyunjae’s lips. “Then, please hold on tight, young lord Yoojin. The more sweetly you cling to me, the harder I may be motivated to work.”

“There’s no need for you to work too hard,” Han Yoojin grumbled. “I’m not handing out employee bonuses.” Despite the disgruntled tone of his voice, he wrapped his arms around Sung Hyunjae’s neck without question. “Yoohyun, let’s go,” he called, and then the two of them were gone, too.

Han Yoohyun followed close behind, until they reached where Moon Hyuna was waiting for them by the giant toad’s feet. With their senses connected, there was no need for words as Bak Yerim sprang further up into the air, the flow of her ice as much a part of Han Yoohyun as his own flames and the constant thread of his brother’s presence.

Stepping into the air on delicate blue leaves, he waited for the layer of frost to harden completely. Bak Yerim grinned at him cheekily on her way out.

“All yours, boss!” She chirped, landing gracefully back onto solid ground.

Flames poured out of his hands in response as he finally allowed every restraint locking his roiling emotions in place to break free. The anger, fear, worry—he couldn’t hurt his brother, and he wasn’t allowed to burn Sung Hyunjae, so he channeled the raw stream of it onto the giant toad’s back until every stray piece of greenery there was scorched to ashes and even the solid rock began to bubble and crack.

That’s enough, he heard his brother’s voice in the back of his mind.

Immediately, his open palms snapped closed, and the stream of flames died to nothing.

“Coming through!” Moon Hyuna shouted. She was sweating visibly, but Peace continued to bound across the crackling hot rocks like he felt nothing.

Wait. Wait… His brother’s voice continued to ring in his ears, even though it wasn’t directed at him. It was almost like all of those years ago, when Han Yoojin would scold him and guide him on how to get along with the other kids in the fortress, how to speak to adults respectfully, how to bow correctly based on station and why etiquette was so important. Now Han Yoohyun was a duke, and nobody cared whether he used correct etiquette or not. Now!

Moon Hyuna struck, the point of her spear digging mercilessly into the toad’s blistering flesh. Some kind of dark, fetid liquid spurted out of the wound, nearly splattering her with its foul stench. Peace darted nimbly off the toad’s back, and without even a moment’s delay, the sky lit up in a flash of light so blinding that even Han Yoohyun had to blink away tears, nothing but white remaining in his field of view. Eventually, his vision cleared, and he could see again.

Before them lay the corpse of a mountain.

Nothing but a husk remained, all organic matter burned clean away. It was left completely hollow, only the sturdy outer shell still intact—though charred black, the rocky crags now barren and dead.

Moon Hyuna laughed dryly. “It’s like a real mountain now.”

“We managed to beat that?!” Bak Yerim said in awe.

Even Han Yoohyun felt a euphoric swell in his chest. The freedom, the triumph—it was everything that made his blood sing while he was outside the Wall, but he had never thought that he’d get to share in those feelings with another person, let alone with his brother.

“Hyung,” he began as he turned around, a lump in his throat. “Hyung, I—”

His words died mid-sentence.

Han Yoojin was doubled over, giving dry, weak coughs. He probably would have fallen over if not for his arm slung around Sung Hyunjae’s shoulder, supporting his weight. Wiping his mouth on the back of his hand, he opened his eyes slowly, staring at his own hand with a strange look of doubt and disbelief.

“... Hey,” Han Yoojin said carefully, a slight rasp to his voice. “Sung Hyunjae, before worrying about other people, don’t forget to fix your arm.”

Sung Hyunjae’s arm did look a bit worse for the wear. It was a little bloody and burnt, but nothing a quick potion wouldn’t fix. He was an elite, anyways. Even if he got his arm hacked clean off, he’d be able to reattach it good as new without even blinking.

“Young lord Yoojin, did you not see me use the potion just now?” Sung Hyunjae said evenly, no change in modulation to his voice. “My arm is good as new.”

Han Yoohyun frowned. Even though it wasn’t much of a wound, who was he fooling by calling it ‘good as new’? But Han Yoojin’s shoulders relaxed a bit, as if he really had believed it.

“That’s good, then.” With another cough, he struggled to right himself. “Yoohyun, you didn’t get hurt, did you?”

“I’m fine, hyung. What happened to you?” He hurried to Han Yoojin’s side, checking him over for wounds.

Han Yoojin ignored his question, instead lifting a hand to press it against Han Yoohyun’s cheek. Patting his face and hair, the hand wandered down to check his arms and torso with thorough precision, as if… as if his hyung couldn’t quite feel at ease that his brother was healthy unless he felt it. Finally, the horror of realization dawned on Han Yoohyun.

“Hyung,” he croaked. “You can’t see?”

“Ah, don’t fuss, Yoohyun. I just need some rest.” There was, in fact, a lethargic slowness to his words. “Yerim? Is she fine?” His eyes scanned around them, glazing straight over Bak Yerim's figure as she ran toward them.

Han Yoohyun nodded, then belatedly realized his mistake. “She’s uninjured.”

“Mm. That’s good.” His head beginning to droop a little, Han Yoojin blinked wearily. “Then… hyung will take a little nap, okay? Yoohyun… I love you.”

As if speaking those words had taken up all of his remaining energy, his eyelids closed, and his body sagged limply into Sung Hyunjae’s waiting arms. Sung Hyunjae scooped him up as if he weighed nothing, walking away without a single word.

Eyebrow twitching, Han Yoohyun stepped in front of him to block his path. “Give him back,” he threatened in a low voice. But rather than stopping, Sung Hyunjae merely continued to walk around him.

“What’s going on?!” Bak Yerim had just reached them. “Ahjussi?! Did he get hit by something?”

Sung Hyunjae barely spared her a glance. “He’s exhausted from mana overuse. The young lady needn’t worry herself.”

Bak Yerim’s mouth made a silent ‘o,’ but Han Yoohyun frowned. “Mana overuse?” He demanded harshly. “Do you think that excuse will work with me? My brother doesn’t have any mana.”

That, finally, got the bastard to stop in his tracks and face Han Yoohyun. For several minutes, Sung Hyunjae fell still, impossibly still. “Ah,” he said, the sound barely more than an exhale.

“Tell me the truth.” Han Yoohyun glared at him. “Does it have to do with the artifact my brother used? You have an idea of what it is, don’t you?”

“The… ‘artifact,’ was it?” Sung Hyunjae said coolly. “Perhaps I have an idea. And, so?”

“So, tell me what it is.”

The corners of Sung Hyunjae’s mouth turned upwards, but only an idiot would call the expression on his face a smile. “I don’t think I will.”

Han Yoohyun bristled, but he hadn’t truly expected the bastard to give him free information, anyways. “Fine. I’ll ask him myself. But either way, give my brother back. You have no right to take him away.” Bak Yerim was poking him, trying to communicate something with her face, and even Moon Hyuna looked a little bit hesitant in the distance, but he ignored them both, his eyes fixed on his brother in that bastard's arms.

Sung Hyunjae tilted his head, as if genuinely considering Han Yoohyun's words. “I think I do, though,” he said finally. “I believe I very much do have the right. One—because I want to.”

Han Yoohyun narrowed his eyes, his hand gripping the hilt of his sword. “That’s ridiculous—” he began, but the bastard continued to speak as if he hadn’t even heard.

“And two—because even if you woke your brother up right now, he would probably say the same thing.”

Though Sung Hyunjae’s voice could be described as soft—even gentle—every word was sharpened to a point, cutting deep enough to draw blood.

“Since,” he said evenly, “he would never want anything that might burden his beloved. Baby. Brother. Who he would give anything to protect.”

Chapter Text

When Han Yoojin opened his eyes again, his first thought was that it must be nighttime. Underneath him were soft, silky sheets, and he was tucked into layers of fluffy blankets. When he reached behind him, groping at the wooden headboard, he recognized the familiar shapes of the ornate upholstered bed frame from Sung Hyunjae’s little house on Breaker’s border.

So, they were still in Breaker. He let out a breath of relief. He’d been half-afraid that he’d wake up only to hear that a whole week had passed, or something like that.

“How is young lord Yoojin feeling?”

It was Sung Hyunjae’s voice. Han Yoojin’s head snapped in the direction it had come from, but he couldn’t even discern the edge of a silhouette or the barest hint of moonlight from a window or door.

“… By any chance,” he ventured with a grimace, “Is it daytime right now?”

Sung Hyunjae was quiet for a few moments. “How much can you see?” He asked gently.

Han Yoojin attempted to wave his hand in front of his face, without much effect. “… I can make out some movement. A little bit of dark and light. Maybe some shapes… but very vaguely.” His forehead creased as he attempted to recall his last memories before passing out. “Compared to at first, it’s definitely a little better. I think it will recover on its own, given some time. In the meantime, if I borrow Peace’s vision, getting through daily life shouldn’t be a problem. Speaking of which, where is Peace?”

Blinking, he looked around on instinct, but of course, the action yielded no results.

“Han Yoojin.” The sudden presence of a hand cupping his cheek made him jump. It wasn’t so much the action itself, but the fact that he hadn’t been able to see it coming. “Even a child knows better to put their hand onto a stove after being burned the first time.”

“What, the sense-sharing ability? I’m not trying to point fingers, but it was only so difficult because you were all so big and tough, okay?” Han Yoojin snorted. “In fact, I feel like I should charge at doubled rates for how much extra trouble you were, Your Grace. Why didn’t you mention that you had clairvoyance or something? Do you know how much work it was to filter through that, too? Anyways, Peace is a good kid, so he won’t be a burden, especially when he’s small.”

But instead of rising to the bait, Sung Hyunjae switched subjects completely.

“Even if you were to only let water escape from a bucket drop by drop, how long would it take for the bucket to run dry?”

“… What is this, a mathematics problem?” Han Yoojin asked, mystified at the change in topic. “If you want me to solve your homework, you’ll have to give me more details, Teacher. How big is the bucket, and how much is a drop?”

“It’s not a very big bucket. Especially compared to others. And you can decide for yourself how big a drop should be. Of course, there’s also natural evaporation to account for, and occasionally, a nasty thief might come by and spill some of the water.”

“… What? Teacher, your mathematics problem is becoming too complicated,” Han Yoojin complained. “Actually, rather than mathematics, isn’t this more like fortune-telling? I’d like to file a complaint with the academy. Education should be based on a rational, scientific curriculum.”

“You’re overthinking it, my dear pupil. It’s a very simple problem, actually. The answer is, ‘too soon.’” The hand on his cheek carded into his hair, sweeping aside a few stray locks. “Do you feel well enough to eat yet?”

It looked like Sung Hyunjae was determined not to stay on topic today.

At the reminder of food, though, Han Yoojin’s stomach made an enthusiastic rumble of agreement. He attempted to hug the blankets closer to his stomach to muffle the sound, but even if Sung Hyunjae hadn’t possessed superhuman hearing, it would probably have been futile. There was a soft breath that sounded like a laugh. A few moments later, something hard and round was set in his hands, still warm to the touch and sloped on the sides.

“A bowl?” Han Yoojin wondered.

“Soup,” Sung Hyunjae answered.

The bowl felt heavy enough to be full. Knowing what it was, Han Yoojin didn’t dare move. Of all things, why did it have to be soup? If it had been something like bread, he could have felt his way around the pieces, but with the liquid, he couldn’t see or feel the contents of the bowl to keep it level, and he was afraid that if he tried to lift it, it would immediately spill.

“Just to be clear,” he said nervously, “You won’t say that these blankets are made of some one-of-a-kind irreplaceable wool that will dissolve immediately when washed, right? Well, even if they are, that would be entirely your fault for giving me this.”

“Han Yoojin.” It sounded like there was a bit of a smile in Sung Hyunjae’s voice. “There’s an easier solution.” A hand came to rest on his to help steady the bowl. Had it been leaning? He had no way to tell. “If my dear Honey was to ask me sweetly to feed him, I’d gladly oblige.”

“… Don’t tell me, you were angling for that all along?” Han Yoojin asked suspiciously. “Is it Your Grace’s hobby to take advantage of people in their moment of weakness?”

“When it comes to young lord Yoojin, I’m afraid I have no choice but to take advantage of what I can.”

Gritting his teeth, Han Yoojin weighed the idea of the slow, agonizing humiliation of spilling soup all over himself like a child against the pain of a quick death.

“I won’t forget this,” he promised menacingly. “Just you wait. If I ever find Your Grace on your sickbed, I’ll set you up with the fluffiest, most embarrassing pink pillows and call everyone over with the excuse of wishing you well. I’ll tell them all to compliment you profusely on the color because you’re so self-conscious about it. Maybe I’ll even commission someone to paint a portrait to immortalize the moment.”

“As long as my Honey keeps them near and dear to your heart, you’re welcome to as many portraits as you’d like.”

Han Yoojin clicked his tongue. How dissatisfying. His fingers tapped against the edge of his bowl, but even he knew that he was only stalling. Simply mulling over his next words made his cheeks burn.

“… Your Grace,” he squeezed out.

“Hmm?” Sung Hyunjae answered cheerfully.

“You see, there’s someone here with no amount of common sense, who would provide food that’s completely impossible for the patient in question to eat. Clearly, this person has no future in the profession of sick care, don’t you think?”

“How terrible. But perhaps this person has learned the error of their ways? Surely my Honey believes in second chances.”

“Well,” Han Yoojin allowed. “If this person shows the proper amount of contrition, it’s not that a second chance is out of the question. But they should solve the difficulties caused by their inconsiderate actions.”

“Mm, indeed. And what difficulties are those?”

Han Yoojin scowled. Did he really have to say it? “The soup…” he began haltingly. “I can’t… That’s to say, the soup needs to make it from point A to point B. Which is, into my mouth. In any case, I’m only the patient here, aren’t I? Why should I be telling you how to do your job? So. You figure it out.”

Sung Hyunjae laughed audibly this time, a bright and gentle chime. Han Yoojin felt his face grow hot in response. Should he have said it in a cuter manner after all? It seemed like that was what Sung Hyunjae had wanted, and it wasn’t like it should have been a very difficult thing. If it were Yerim or Peace here… they had both mastered the art of staring at you with those round, teary eyes. Even Yoohyun had this way of looking down dejectedly that made it hard not to soften your heart toward him. If it was any of them sitting injured in bed, asking Han Yoojin to feed them, he would do so eagerly while feeling all kinds of heartache at their sorry states.

But when it came to himself… in the first place, Sung Hyunjae was the weird one for playing strange tricks on a fully grown man. He was thirty, okay, thirty! Not a baby monster or an adorable kid. It was only natural that the result wouldn’t turn out as cute as Sung Hyunjae would have hoped.

“Would my precious patient please say ‘ah’?”

There was the clink of metal on porcelain—a spoon? Han Yoojin opened his mouth, and a spoonful of broth trickled neatly onto his tongue in a burst of flavor. The taste of it was rich and sumptuous, even as the texture remained clear and light, and it warmed him all the way down to the pit of his stomach.

“Here comes another,” Sung Hyunjae said cheerfully. He seemed to be having entirely too much fun with the whole thing. But then, it was probably preferable that he was having fun as opposed to not. How many spoonfuls were in a bowl? Thirty? Forty? One after another, a monotonous series of dull, repetitive chores. The soup tasted like it was cooling a little. Han Yoojin ran his tongue nervously over his lips, catching a stray drop of broth.

The most unnerving thing, he found, was that he couldn’t see Sung Hyunjae’s face. Whether he still had that annoying shit-eating grin on his face, or if his expression had begun to slip into boredom—there was no way to tell.

“Do you really find it interesting to play nursemaid like this?” He asked.

“I find you interesting,” Sung Hyunjae said simply.

Han Yoojin fidgeted with the wrinkles on the blankets, using the excuse of another spoonful of soup to feign nonchalance. If he pretended to turn a blind eye, he could ignore the way these types of little declarations and jokes left him off-kilter, as if the rug could be pulled out from underneath him at any time.

“How are the kids?” He said, changing the topic. “Where are they now?”

“They’re staying with Moon Hyuna. Should I send for them?”

Han Yoojin shook his head. “I’ll see them once I’ve recovered a bit more.” Well. He touched his face. Hopefully he would be able to see them at all.

There was a quiet clink and a rattle as the bowl was set aside on some nearby surface, maybe the desk by the window. The weight on the bed shifted suddenly—it seemed like Sung Hyunjae had moved to sit beside him. He wasn’t sure if it was his imagination, or if he could really feel the faint heat of another body radiating onto his skin.

“Since I’ve answered a burning question of yours, I hope you’ll return the favor,” Sung Hyunjae said. Han Yoojin’s shoulders tensed ever so slightly. There was something in his voice that was no longer as carefree as earlier. “The… ‘artifact’ you spoke of to the Haeyeon young master. I’d like to see it.”

Han Yoojin’s brows drew together in perplexion. “You of all people should know that was an excuse. It’s just a regular ability.”

“It was certainly an excuse,” Sung Hyunjae said softly. “But I wonder if it was closer to the truth than you intended. You’ve always kept your secrets very close to your chest.” His fingers traced down the collar of Han Yoojin’s shirt, coming to a rest just above where his heart lay.

Han Yoojin felt his breathing stop. How much did Sung Hyunjae know? He thought he’d kept it well-hidden. There shouldn’t have been much reason for suspicion. It was hardly rare for hunters to develop new abilities as they grew and matured.

“The process of creating an artifact,” Sung Hyunjae continued calmly, “involves engraving runes imbued with power onto materials with complementary properties. I wonder, does that description sound familiar to young lord Yoojin?”

“… Of course it sounds familiar. That’s common knowledge.” Han Yoojin attempted to keep his voice steady. His mouth was beginning to feel a little dry.

“You’ve been in those clothes for some time now. Shall I help you change into something fresh?” The direction of Sung Hyunjae’s conversation reversed again suddenly, leaving Han Yoojin dizzy.

“No need,” he blurted, clutching the front of his shirt. “I, I feel fine.”

“Han Yoojin.” He felt Sung Hyunjae’s hand come to a rest on top of his, but instead of wrenching his grip away, it just rested there solidly. “I’m asking because I care about you.”

He couldn’t see Sung Hyunjae’s face. It was maddening, that he couldn’t see his face. He stretched out his fingers, running them over the planes of Sung Hyunjae’s visage, without even truly knowing what he was looking for. Whether he could see or not, Sung Hyunjae was a person whose face showed exactly what he intended, no more and no less. The firm arch of his nose and the subtle curve of his lips, flattened into a somber line. The small creases in the expanse of his flawless brow. Did they really mean anything?

He withdrew his hand, the tips of his fingers trembling beyond his control, and slowly reached for the buttons of his shirt, undoing them shakily one by one. Bit by bit, the front of his shirt fell open, and he let the last of the fabric slip off his shoulders, gathering in a pool around his arms.

For a while, only the sound of breathing filled the room.

As the silence stretched on, Han Yoojin could feel his skin begin to itch. Sung Hyunjae was the one who had asked in the first place, so shouldn’t he at least have some kind of reaction? Maybe he really did find it that offensive to the eye—the crude, rune-shaped scars that stood testament, perhaps more than anything else, to the ugly, desperate nature of Han Yoojin’s scrabble for any kind of power he could get his hands on. The polar opposite of someone like Sung Hyunjae.

“So.” Han Yoojin cleared his throat, trying to keep his voice from shaking. “It should be obvious, right? Why this has to be a secret. There are people who don’t respect the value of human life as it is. If they got it into their heads that it was possible to graft abilities like this, they would probably try all sorts of terrible things. Even though the conditions to make it happen aren’t so easy to meet.”

“… The conditions?” Sung Hyunjae murmured.

“If you try to do it just any way, you’ll only end up with regular scars that don’t do anything.”

There was a quiet sigh. “For the sake of my self-control right now, I won’t ask how you know that.”

… Well, it was true that the potential to try all sorts of abilities would be enticing to someone as bored as him, but was it to the point that he’d lose self-control?

The sudden contact of skin against his scars made Han Yoojin flinch and pull back.

“It hurts?” Sung Hyunjae questioned.

“N-no,” he answered. “Just surprised.”

He forced himself to hold still as the touch returned. It was even lighter this time, the barest, feather-light sweep of exploratory fingertips on his chest. Still, the gnarled scar tissue must have been more sensitive than he’d expected, because even that faint touch sent shivers down his spine, and he dug his teeth into his lips to seal in any unflattering sounds.

More alarmingly, though, he recognized with dread the feeling of his life force swelling up to meet Sung Hyunjae’s fingertips as they traced at the first sigil. It was a resounding answer to the morbid curiosity he’d harbored silently until now—indeed, just like a real artifact, the sigils didn’t distinguish between his touch and someone else’s. There was nothing he could do to stop the trickle of power to the first rune from being cut off, his poison resistance sputtering to a halt.

He’d initially thought that Sung Hyunjae just wanted to play with the switch a bit out of curiosity, but his eyes widened when he felt the second rune die out, too.

“Stop!” He shouted, jerking his body away. His back hit the upholstery of the headrest with a loud thump, but he could barely feel it over the hammering of his heartbeat in his ribcage. “You, you—what are you doing?!”

“Creating the optimal conditions to help my patient recover.” Sung Hyunjae’s voice remained completely level, but he didn’t do anything further, perhaps in response to Han Yoojin’s extreme reaction. “Han Yoojin. You don’t have any mana.”

“Yes…?” That was an obvious fact. Probably everyone in the kingdom’s aristocratic gossip circles knew it.

“I considered, previously, if you had perhaps found a way to make mana crystals work with your abilities. Or if there was yet another artifact or skill that I hadn’t encountered before. You could say that I didn’t prioritize the question, but I see now that that was my oversight. Han Yoojin, how do you expect your body to recover when you’re constantly draining life force out of it?”

“It will recover.” Han Yoojin drew his knees up around his chest. “It’s recovered before. The resistances don’t take that much power to sustain.”

Sung Hyunjae exhaled, but there was an uncharacteristic rush of frustration to it. “‘That much’? You must know that with your rank, the amount of life force you have was already lower from the start. You should be jealously guarding every drop.”

“Well, sorry that I wasn’t born a big, strong elite like you,” Han Yoojin snapped. “My bad, I guess. Terribly inconsiderate of me. So, what am I supposed to do? Roll over and accept that I’ll be useless for the rest of my life?”

“You’re not—”

“Not useless?” Han Yoojin laughed harshly. “Without these abilities? Do you really think that? Look me in the eye and tell me honestly— tell me honestly— that we would both be here today, like this, if I were just another poor, weak commoner with nothing to offer.”

Silence.

Han Yoojin’s lips twisted bitterly. At least Sung Hyunjae had the decency not to lie to his face. He took a deep, shuddering breath.

“Anyways,” he continued. “It doesn’t matter whether my life span is fifty years or five hundred if I die in the next five. You must be able to tell that the Wall’s protection isn’t what it used to be, and nobody understands why. If we make it past that, then I can start thinking about how to extend my retirement, or whatever.”

Sung Hyunjae remained silent for a while longer. When he spoke again, his voice was almost too low to hear. “Does your brother know?”

Han Yoojin flinched.

“As far as I can tell, he’s been working hard as the guardian of a land he barely cares about, all for the sake of his beloved hyung. How long do you think he’ll live naturally? Most elites can reach two hundred, easily. How long do you think he plans to live without you? ”

“It’s not…” Han Yoojin swallowed. “It’s not that extreme. Yoohyun will… he’ll grow older, and become more independent…”

“Are you willing to bet his life on that?”

He stared at the dark space where Sung Hyunjae’s voice was coming from, his knuckles whitening as he gripped the thick, embroidered blankets. “... That’s low,” he whispered.

“As I said,” Sung Hyunjae said quietly, “When it comes to young lord Yoojin, I’m afraid I have no choice but to take advantage of what I can.”

Han Yoojin lowered his eyes. He imagined that he could see the patterns of the blankets, the creases folding and unfolding as he fiddled with the fabric. “I… I can’t.” He shook his head. “It’s not as simple as losing one or two resistances. I—”

“If you’re worried about surprise attacks, it’s not impossible to find artifacts with similar abilities. They may not be as impressive as yours, but please bear with the inconvenience for a while.”

“No. No, it’s not that. It…” His throat closed up, the words stuck there. “The last one isn’t just… It’s fear resistance.”

It was one thing to turn off his resistance to poisons and curses for a while. The odds of needing them completely unexpectedly weren’t high, especially not with Sung Hyunjae nearby. But losing fear resistance was…

“… Ah,” Sung Hyunjae breathed.

Han Yoojin held still. Even just revealing his silly trick felt like showing the inside of the magician’s hat. It wasn’t that he was anything special, in the end. It was just a convenient ability he’d managed to pick up on no merit of his own.

“… the reason young lord Yoojin can be near me so comfortably. It’s because of that skill?”

There was no way to tell what expression he was making. Han Yoojin nodded slowly.

“I presume that will end if it’s turned off.”

Han Yoojin nodded again, even more slowly.

Sung Hyunjae gave a low, dry laugh. “What a vile predicament.” He paused, perhaps contemplating, the tone of his voice unclear. “Still, I suppose it will be a new experience for me, to be the one waiting at someone else’s doorstep every day just for the hope of being taken back. Young lord Yoojin is much kinder than I am, so if I act pitiful enough, you won’t be able to turn a blind eye to me, will you?”

“Don’t spout nonsense.” The corners of Han Yoojin’s mouth pulled down sourly. But it was only natural that Sung Hyunjae could joke about the situation so easily. With any deal, the less you had to lose, the simpler it was to walk away.

“We’ll see soon enough if it’s nonsense.” A warm hand came to stop on Han Yoojin’s cheek once again, the broad thumb tracing the contour of his face. He exhaled, a long, silent breath. “Han Yoojin. For the sake of your brother, if nothing else, please live a long and healthy life.”

Since the conversation had already reached this point, what more was there to say? Cry and beg to be given another chance, like every other forgotten former plaything on Sung Hyunjae’s doorstep? Scream and yell, like the shouting matches he’d gotten into with Han Yoohyun back in the day?

In some fantasy dream world, of course he’d like to entertain Sung Hyunjae’s attentions forever. But Han Yoojin knew better than most the bitter taste of reality.

“Your Grace,” he said, reaching out to grab the edge of Sung Hyunjae’s sleeve. “You can’t deny that our business dealings have turned out rather profitable for you, at the very least.”

“Of course,” Sung Hyunjae agreed easily. “Perhaps young lord Yoojin is my lucky star.”

“And, well. If it’s things you’ve never seen before, there are still plenty of them that only I would know of.”

“I don’t doubt that. Young lord Yoojin is a font of secrets.”

“… So.” Han Yoojin took a deep breath. “So, that is. Personal feelings aside, Your Grace should remember that it would still be advantageous to make deals with me in the future. I—I do make some considerations for customer loyalty, you know?”

“I know,” Sung Hyunjae said softly. “I’m counting on that.”

“… That’s good, then.” That was as close to begging as he could allow himself to get. He cleared his throat self-consciously, turning his face aside. “Then… Then, just do it.”

Almost immediately, he felt the press of Sung Hyunjae’s fingers against the last rune, his skin tingling as the current of power underneath rose to meet them. For whatever reason, Sung Hyunjae didn’t cut the connection immediately, letting the nervous anticipation in Han Yoojin’s veins fester. He squeezed his eyes shut, even though it made no difference when it came to the darkness that already dominated his field of view. And just like that, his very last defense crumbled to dust, too.

Nothing could have prepared him for the full, oppressive weight of Sung Hyunjae’s presence. No matter how many descriptions he’d heard, it all paled compared to experiencing the real thing. That terrifying aura crashed down on him like a towering wave, submerging him in a crushing weight that squeezed the air right out of his lungs. He gasped feebly, trying to suck in a breath that continued to escape him.

“Han Yoojin?”

Even just Sung Hyunjae’s normal voice reverberated thunderously in his skull. He grit his teeth, resisting the urge to curl up and throw his hands over his ears like a child hiding under the blankets. A layer of cold sweat broke out his skin at the effort. How pathetic he must look, trying so miserably to hold himself together.

There was a faint exhale. “It seems like I should leave young lord Yoojin alone to recover for a while.”

Hearing the words, icy panic rose up, cutting straight through the oppressive haze like steel, cold and sharp.

“No!” He jolted forward, practically stumbling over himself to grab at Sung Hyunjae’s arm. If he had been thinking rationally, he might not have been so desperate, but in that moment, pure fear gripped him.

Unfortunately, his panicked approximation of distance failed him, and instead of fabric, he caught bare skin instead. Sung Hyunjae’s hand closed around his fingers, catching his weight as he fell forward, the simple contact causing his entire body to shiver. For the first time, he was fully, bodily aware of how easily those hands could crush his bones to dust, how powerless he would be to fight or flee. It was the unsuppressable terror of kissing a live blade, the dizzying ecstasy of looking down from a towering precipice.

Dully, he was aware that his breathing was harsh and ragged, and he forced himself to inhale again in a steady rhythm. So what, if his voice could barely make it out of his throat? So what, if his entire body shook like a leaf in the wind? What made Sung Hyunjae more terrifying, anyways, than anything he had already faced and lived through? Struggling against something much greater than himself was hardly a new occurrence to him. It was an instinct that was etched deeper into his marrow every minute that he was alive, an impulse that couldn’t be beaten out of him if he tried.

He tipped his head back and laughed, suddenly, a bit of a hysterical edge to it. With his other hand, he reached out blindly, seizing hold of the first thing he touched. It felt like locks of hair, slipping through his fingers as he combed through until his hand found a sloped jaw, and then a pulsing neck, the muscles underneath tensing and tightening. With every drag of skin against skin, his nerves prickled as if shocked, the keen proximity of danger sharper to the touch than any knife.

“What,” he continued to laugh, though it sounded more like the dying gasps of a fish out of water. “Is—Is that it? It’s not really… anything special.”

“Han Yoojin,” Sung Hyunjae said in a low voice. It sounded like a warning. It felt like a command.

Whichever it was, Han Yoojin ignored it.

Perhaps Sung Hyunjae became annoyed with his wandering touch, because his misbehaving forearm was quickly apprehended in an iron grip.

“Normally,” Sung Hyunjae murmured, “A healthy sense of fear is supposed to instill some degree of self-preservation.”

Han Yoojin ran his tongue over his dry lips. “But,” he said shakily, “is there anything… worth being scared of… here?”

The grip on his arm grew tighter. At any second, it could snap him clean in half, any resistance he might offer utterly futile. And for the first time, he wondered if maybe the regression really hadn’t sent him back with all the pieces intact. Because instead of horror or dread, that awareness sank into his flesh as live sparks, an electric thrill that shot through his veins.

One that was difficult to blame entirely on fear.

Chapter Text

The arm in Sung Hyunjae’s grip was so fragile, an accidental slip of his hand, and it might break.

Even as his body trembled, Han Yoojin’s eyes were wide open, his pupils tracking each of Sung Hyunjae’s movements by sound. It was a clever approximation of sight, so clever that someone who had never met him might truly not notice the difference. But to Sung Hyunjae, it was obvious at a glance how the movement of his eyes continuously lagged a beat behind his lightning-fast wits, how his gaze always seemed to just barely miss Sung Hyunjae’s.

It was maddening. The fact that Han Yoojin’s sharp, vivid gaze no longer locked on his as they spoke—Sung Hyunjae would have gouged out his own eye right there and then to have that back.

“Han Yoojin,” he breathed.

It was easy to see how the very sound of his voice sent a shudder through Han Yoojin’s entire frame, but the slender fingers in his only gripped tighter, seeking refuge from the storm in the howling wind. Han Yoojin’s teeth sank mercilessly into his own lips until they nearly turned white.

‘It’s okay if it’s too much for you.’ Even as Sung Hyunjae contemplated the words, he knew that they were worse than useless. Han Yoojin would fight with every fiber of his being to the very last breath, as if he had never known any other way to exist. He would keep fighting, and fighting, and fighting, until no piece of him was left. No wonder, that Han Yoohyun had thought pushing him away to be the only path that he could take.

But even if he were misguided enough to believe that such a thing would work, Sung Hyunjae wasn’t half so noble as to leave him.

His lovely, fearless sugar-spun doll.

“Han Yoojin,” he said again, and he would be lying if he said he didn’t feel a thrill at how his voice sent shivers down the frail body in his grip, even as the thought frustrated and confounded him beyond anything he’d ever grappled with. “Do you really think you have nothing to be afraid of?”

Slowly and deliberately, he lifted the delicate forearm in his grasp until it was pinned to the bed frame above Han Yoojin’s head. He let him tug powerlessly—though, more out of curiosity than desperation, it seemed—engraving the difference in strength into his mind.

Han Yoojin let out a soft, dry laugh. “I—I only hear... a mere elite.” His voice still quavered, but in just the span of a few minutes, it had become remarkably steadier. “If you think that you can scare me… do your worst.”

It was probably for the best that Han Yoojin couldn’t see the expression on his face in response, the pure, primal hunger that tugged at the corners of his mouth. If he could see it, it might become the last, tiny straw that broke his stubborn resolve and sent him running away, screaming.

Or perhaps he would simply accept that part of Sung Hyunjae, too.

His other hand loosened its hold on Han Yoojin’s fingers and trailed down leisurely to wrap around his other arm, lifting that one, too, until it joined the other on the bed frame. Carefully, he increased the pressure of his aura bit by bit, watching as the heaving of Han Yoojin’s chest grew more and more erratic.

“Comfortable?” He asked softly.

Han Yoojin gave a shaky huff. “How kind of—you… to help with… morning stretches.”

“Especially while bedridden, it’s an important part of maintaining my precious patient’s health.”

At this point, the amount of pressure Sung Hyunjae was exerting was as heavy as it had ever been. Even against another elite, he had never had cause to go higher. It was a thing of beauty to watch the strain of Han Yoojin’s muscles as he struggled against the reflexive urge to flee, the curve of his back as he fought harder and harder to draw in breath. The morning sun illuminated the pale skin of his chest with golden light, setting an even greater contrast against the dark, jagged scars that marred its surface.

If Sung Hyunjae could have poured the world’s most potent healing potions over it to erase those scars, he would have done so in a heartbeat. But aside from the fact that it wouldn’t have been appreciated by the patient, he could tell even from a touch that they had been carved with a power that felt older, more indelible than simple potions could handle. So the scars were there to stay, then—every bit as vicious and beautiful and impossibly frustrating as their owner.

“It’s a pity that I only get to enjoy this sight so rarely,” Sung Hyunjae said lightly. “Won’t you consider becoming a permanent fixture on my walls?”

“What, like—one of… your rare fish?” Han Yoojin let out a puff of breathless laughter. “I can’t… swim as well, so… I’ll decline.”

“Certainly not with the fish. I couldn’t possibly allow anyone else to see. But I could keep you pinned prettily to my bedroom walls, or strung up nicely on top of the pillows and blankets. I think it would greatly improve the quality of my dreams to see you every night as I close my eyes.”

Han Yoojin’s face, originally pale from exhaustion, reddened at the words, and he turned his head aside. It was unspeakably endearing, that he still had the leisure to be embarrassed in this situation.

“I think it would be… nightmares instead,” he said breathily. “If I make sure… to read you the most… terribly boring gossip columns… the whole night…”

“As long as I can see my Honey’s face, it would be a sweet dream,” Sung Hyunjae disagreed.

At Han Yoojin’s immediate scoff, Sung Hyunjae released one of his arms, letting his touch wander back down to the runes on his chest.

“I wonder if my dear Honey couldn’t be persuaded to see it my way?” He said mildly.

In truth, he was more skeptical than not that it would work, but a spark of curiosity struck him. He touched the rune that corresponded with what he remembered of Han Yoojin’s movements from the fight, letting a trickle of his own mana flow into it.

Although he didn’t feel any different himself, Han Yoojin’s response was instantaneous. His entire body stiffened, his eyes going wide—and finally, finally, he met Sung Hyunjae’s gaze straight on.

“Too much,” he rushed out, with a gasp. “Mana.”

But, it had only been a drop? Sung Hyunjae prudently decided against voicing the thought. Obediently, he cut back the trickle of mana to… what was there to describe something less than even a trickle? A painfully slow but steady drip, perhaps.

Han Yoojin’s body relaxed visibly at the adjustment, his tightly clenched jaw slowly working itself loose. The exertion of dealing with both Sung Hyunjae’s heavy presence and the mental load of the skill had left him soaked in sweat, his bangs clinging stickily to his face. The light sheen of moisture caused his skin to glow in the morning light, highlighting the fine contour of his collarbone and the lovely curve of his shoulders.

“Stop… looking, ” Han Yoojin squeezed out through gritted teeth.

How disconcerting must it be when your field of view was made up of someone else’s vision? What did it feel like to look, and see yourself staring back? Sung Hyunjae was endlessly curious. He wondered how far the ability’s potential stretched. He wondered if Han Yoojin could feel echoes of the roiling desire simmering in his fingertips.

But it wasn’t a good time to keep playing this game for too long. Even with him bearing the cost in terms of mana, the physical toll of using the skill wouldn’t be nonexistent. So when Han Yoojin strained forward, fumbling to slap his free hand over Sung Hyunjae’s eyes, he let the connection fade away amiably, along with the heightened pressure to his presence.

Han Yoojin’s body slumped at the release, his weight falling limply onto Sung Hyunjae’s shoulders. Pressed together like this, Sung Hyunjae could feel every rise and fall of his delicate rib cage, the hummingbird flutter of his heart underneath.

“You have too much,” Han Yoojin groused under his breath. “Mana, I mean. Wasting it on something like that.”

“What’s yours is mine and what’s mine is yours,” Sung Hyunjae said lightly. He traced lazy circles on the small of Han Yoojin’s back, delighting in the feeling of soft skin under his fingers. “There is a superstition, in foreign lands. The spine is the primary channel through which mana flows, so if you follow it…”

His fingertips trailed up the length of Han Yoojin’s spine, coming to a rest at the back of his neck.

“Mouth to mouth, that is—a kiss. It’s said that two people can exchange the energy of life that way. Would young lord Yoojin like to try it?”

Through his sweat-damp bangs, Han Yoojin shot him a look so scathing that the heat of it curled in Sung Hyunjae’s gut. And surprisingly, the words that came out of his mouth were—

“… I’ve never heard of such a superstition, but, Your Grace is so well-traveled, after all.” The tip of Han Yoojin’s tongue peeked out, running slowly, tantalizingly over his bitten lips. “So… it’s not that there’s absolutely no virtue in trying.”

That was all the answer Sung Hyunjae needed. The corners of his mouth pulled into a wide smile as he leaned forward to claim his prize.

The one and only benefit to Han Yoojin’s present condition was the way in which all of Sung Hyunjae’s touches caught him irresistibly unawares. It was with just a bit of mean-spirited delight that he kept his approach silent, stealing a soft noise of surprise from Han Yoojin’s throat as Sung Hyunjae bit at his lower lip. Nibbling and sucking gently, he teased the soft petals of his mouth apart until he was allowed to venture further inside.

To Sung Hyunjae’s credit, he really did make an attempt at summoning his mana. It answered him, as it always did, with a swell that rose at his call, waiting to be molded. But without an appropriate outlet, the ephemeral shape quickly scattered, the power sinking back into his body.

With that diversion out of the way, he focused his attention back to tasting every inch of Han Yoojin’s lips, plundering whatever he was allowed. He laced their fingers together, only to use the leverage to pin Han Yoojin’s hands to the headboard once again, leaving him no quarter to run, no room to hide, no chance to flee. It was cute, unbearably so, how he tried his best to respond, with hesitant suckling and tentative licks, and the clumsiness only spurred Sung Hyunjae on to take, and take, and take even more.

It was only out of concern over whether Han Yoojin was breathing properly that he finally pulled back, leaving Han Yoojin limp and panting once again, though for a markedly different reason from before. His whole upper body was flushed pink now, his lips swollen and red.

It truly wouldn’t be a hardship at all to look upon this sight every day for the rest of his life, Sung Hyunjae thought idly.

“My apologies,” he said, though he made no effort to hide the satisfaction in his tone. “It seems the superstition was merely that, in the end.”

“… That does seem to be the case,” Han Yoojin agreed, his voice coming out a little more hoarse than usual. “But, these things can be deceiving.”

Sung Hyunjae raised an eyebrow. “Oh? And how would you suggest we confirm it?”

Han Yoojin licked his lips tentatively, his pink tongue lingering on a spot that looked especially mauled. “Well,” he said haltingly, “Perhaps Your Grace should try again. Just to be sure.”

Sung Hyunjae didn’t need any more convincing than that.

It turned out to be less difficult than Han Yoojin had anticipated, getting used to the pressure of Sung Hyunjae’s presence. Perhaps it was because he’d become used to Yoohyun already, even without fear resistance.

In Sung Hyunjae’s case, it wasn’t yet something he could ignore completely—more like a low, constant buzz on his skin, but one that he could put out of his mind for a while if he tried. In some ways, it was even a welcome distraction from the… other thoughts that lingered below the surface, the darker nightmares and memories just waiting to rear their ugly heads.

If there was anything about the recovery process that truly grated, it would be how reliant he had to be on Sung Hyunjae’s help for even simple tasks like eating, or washing up, or getting around the house. Even though he’d memorized the layout of the building by touch, it seemed like there were always chairs or tables left out of place, which he’d run into and need to be saved from stumbling or guided around.

“You’re not moving the furniture around on purpose, are you?” He’d asked suspiciously at one point.

Sung Hyunjae had merely hummed noncommittally. “After taking a closer look, I found the decor rather lacking, so I made some adjustments.”

“… Multiple times a day?”

“I might have misplaced some items occasionally as well,” Sung Hyunjae allowed.

Anyways, there was no real point in grilling him about some harmless mischief. He was probably bored out of his mind, being stuck in a little cottage for days to play nanny for an injured person. Even though it would have been fine to just get someone else to do it.

Luckily, by the fourth day, Han Yoojin could see well enough to get by on his own again. Everything still looked fuzzy and blurry, no matter how close he held it to his face, but he could at least go through daily life confidently as long as he didn’t have to read small letters or look at any tiny details.

Since he could say, ‘I’m recovering just fine,’ with a little more confidence now, he decided it was alright to see the kids again. It wasn’t a problem for Bak Yerim to stay here for so long, but he was a little worried at how long Han Yoohyun had been here. Seseong at least had Evelyn Miller to handle patrols while their duke was away—which, frankly, seemed to be more often than not—but Haeyeon only had Han Yoohyun, at least until Bak Yerim was experienced enough to lead a patrol on her own. Han Yoohyun’s squad would be able to hold out for a few days without him, possibly longer if nothing too pressing showed up, but every minute was a gamble.

Despite the short notice, both Moon Hyuna and the kids were already waiting at the entrance of Breaker’s fortress by the time they arrived.

“Yoohyun!” Han Yoojin exclaimed, holding out his arms.

“Hyung, you’re alright.” The relief in Han Yoohyun’s voice was palpable as he was crushed in a tight embrace.

From the corner of his eye, Han Yoojin spotted a flash of blue, and he wriggled an arm free to gesture at Bak Yerim, too. “Yerim, come here.”

“Ahjussi!” Bak Yerim wailed, running into them with all the force of a hurricane. Han Yoojin swallowed a lump in his throat. They were really such good kids. Though he pretended not to see how the two of them were digging their elbows into each other’s sides.

“It’s good you’re back,” Moon Hyuna said, scratching her chin. “You wouldn’t believe how these kids have been crying about you. Anyways, since you got hurt helping my territory out, it’s only fair that you let me know if there’s anything you need to get better.”

“I’m recovering well, but I wouldn’t turn down a favor from Breaker in the future if I need one,” Han Yoojin told her.

“You’ve got yourself a deal,” Moon Hyuna agreed easily.

There was also still the matter of cleaning up the aftermath of the Auction. They relocated to a drawing room that Moon Hyuna had prepared, documents in hand.

“We were able to trace down most of the suppliers and runners of the Auction,” Moon Hyuna explained. “I’ve already sent people to take care of those in Breaker, and I’ve sent all the rest of the intel to Seseong to handle. But because the auction was, ah… cut short, it will be hard to pin down the attendees with anything other than minor fines. Since, none of them actually participated in any illegal monster or human trafficking.”

At that, Han Yoojin shot a pointed look at Sung Hyunjae. He at least had the decency to look apologetic in reply.

“It’s enough that I remember all of their faces,” Sung Hyunjae said placidly, though the curve of his lips was strangely chilling. “They’ll soon find that my memory is quite long.”

Not for the first time, Han Yoojin was glad that he was an ally rather than an enemy.

“But, it means that news of what happened there will spread a lot more quickly than anticipated,” Moon Hyuna added. “In particular, news about your ability to tame monsters, and your relationship with the duke of Seseong.”

The spread of both of those pieces of information was within their expectations, even if the rate was a bit higher than they’d anticipated. But, Sung Hyunjae had gone off-script quite badly, so he was unsure about the results of the second piece. “What relationship is that?” He wondered aloud. “… Business associates?”

Moon Hyuna let out a violent cough that sounded suspiciously like a laugh.

“Lovers,” Sung Hyunjae supplied helpfully.

“… is one version of it.” Han Yoohyun glowered at Sung Hyunjae with unrestrained irritation. “There are a lot of different rumors. Anyways, hyung, in short, there’ll be a lot of people who will want to get their hands on you for a variety of reasons. We discussed it—”

“‘We’?” Han Yoojin echoed suspiciously.

“The…” Han Yoohyun grit his teeth. “Duke of Seseong and I discussed it—”

“The two of you discussed it?!”

“—and we agree that it would be best if your official title was reinstated—”

“—If you were bestowed with an official title,” Sung Hyunjae corrected. “It’s only a partial measure, of course, but it would serve as a deterrent.”

“The two of you,” Han Yoojin repeated with annoyance, “discussed my title. Without me.”

“Hyung.” Han Yoohyun at least tried to look chagrined. “You were sick.”

“I was recovering, not unconscious.” He let out a huff. Should he at least praise them for being able to come to an agreement on one single thing? Judging by the way Han Yoohyun’s eyebrow was jumping, it couldn’t have been easy. “Fine, let’s hear what you have in mind, at least.”

“You should have your name returned to Haeyeon’s official register,” Han Yoohyun said. “And since you can’t be named heir again, we’ll get you another title. Duke might be out of the question, but marquess or earl, at least. We can find somewhere in Haeyeon to mark as your territory.”

“… Yoohyun, you can’t just go around taking people off and putting them back on family registers as you please,” Han Yoojin said tiredly, rubbing his nose. “It will cause instability, for one. Has Seok Simyeong agreed to this plan?”

Han Yoohyun’s sullen silence was answer enough. “Seok Simyeong isn’t the duke,” he said unhappily. “I am.”

Han Yoojin sighed. “If you don’t plan to listen to your advisor, why have one at all? You know he has Haeyeon’s best interests at heart.” Whatever other feelings he might have about the man, he could admit that much, at least. “Besides, do you think noble titles grow on trees? You’ll need the approval of the crown to declare a new territory.”

Han Yoohyun glared daggers at Sung Hyunjae. “He’s promised to approve it. If you agree.”

Han Yoojin bit his tongue. Ah. When your brother and the future king were conspiring together, it seemed that noble titles did indeed grow on trees.

“If young lord Yoojin isn’t satisfied with the idea, there are other options, of course,” Sung Hyunjae added smoothly. “Seseong has plenty of vassal houses that would welcome a talented son. You can have your pick.”

“You mean, adoption? But, at my age, that’s only relevant if a house has no heirs to pass on the title, and even if there was someone eager to give that away to a stranger, I have no intentions of inheriting some random territory. I have enough on my hands as it is.”

“There are precedents for adopting an adult into a house with an heir as well.”

“Those cases are for an impending marriage, so they’re irrelevant.” It wasn’t an unprecedented tactic for elevating the status of a partner of humbler birth. Han Yoojin scowled. “In any case, I won’t change my family name, so it’s not an option.”

Sung Hyunjae sighed heavily, though Han Yoohyun looked rather pleased. “Then, hyung, I’ll start making preparations right away.”

“Hang on, I never said I agreed to your plan, either.”

“But you have to pick one of them,” Han Yoohyun argued. “And his is unacceptable, so—”

“I don’t ‘have’ to do anything,” Han Yoojin said crossly. “I’ve lived three years of my life perfectly fine without a title, thank you very much.” Eight, if you were counting properly. Though using ‘perfectly fine’ as a description might be a stretch.

“Hyung,” Han Yoohyun persisted. “It’s too dangerous for you without one. What if some kind of international conflict occurs? Without any status, it might be harder to protect you. And even within the kingdom, you might face all kinds of troubles if one of us isn’t at your side.”

Moon Hyuna cleared her throat cautiously. “If I could offer a third solution… Breaker has a lot of vassal houses that have just, ah, opened up new vacancies, so to speak. And it would be perfectly reasonable for me to bestow a title as gratitude upon the hero who made it possible for us to defeat the mythic monster at our Wall.”

Seeing both Han Yoohyun’s irritated glower and Sung Hyunjae’s displeased look, Moon Hyuna only shrugged.

“Hey, I’m just offering. It’s up to big bro, right?”

Han Yoojin rubbed his temples with exhaustion. “I’ll think about it,” he said wearily. “Anyways, enough about that for now. Didn’t you say your people had finished categorizing all of the goods confiscated from the Auction?”

“Keeping your eyes on the prize, huh? I like it.” Moon Hyuna retrieved a stack of documents from beside her and handed it to him.

Han Yoojin flipped through the documents with anticipation, glancing over the list of goods. Most of them he recognized from rummaging through the auction storerooms, so he was able to mark them down quickly. He also put a mark next to the lightning resistance cloak and a couple of materials that seemed suitable for making Bak Yerim’s weapon. And, of course, the baby monsters.

“The value of the baby monsters would have gone up recently, then,” Han Yoojin realized. Since news that they could be tamed would have gone out. Even if it was only him who could do anything about it at the moment.

“More than doubled, by current estimates,” Sung Hyunjae confirmed. “And still rising.”

“Ugh.” Han Yoojin wrinkled his nose. “But, for splitting the goods, we’ll be going by previous estimates from when the contract was signed, right?” He said sweetly. “Anyways, they wouldn’t have that kind of value without me.”

Sung Hyunjae smiled helplessly. “As my dear Honey says.”

For some reason, Han Yoohyun made a strangled noise and shot up from his seat, but Bak Yerim and Moon Hyuna wrestled him back down. Han Yoojin glanced at them with concern, but Bak Yerim only waved at him cheerfully.

With a shrug, Han Yoojin went back to the list, humming happily as he mentally calculated the total and marked down a few more items. Oh, right, there was also the Queen of the Sea in his pocket, but… Technically, that wasn’t part of the ‘confiscated items.’ If he didn’t bring it up, maybe Sung Hyunjae would have forgotten about it?

With a saccharine smile, he handed the list to Sung Hyunjae. “Does this split look satisfactory to Your Grace?”

Sung Hyunjae didn’t even bother to look at the sheet. “Of course. I’ll have the items sent to Haeyeon immediately.”

“Your Grace is so considerate.”

“Then,” Han Yoohyun interrupted, “Duke Seseong, that means your business here is concluded, isn’t it? My brother and I should be on our way.”

The reminder was like a bucket of cold water poured onto Han Yoojin’s head. Of course, they’d already discussed his return to Haeyeon, but somehow, the idea of parting had remained distant. He hesitated, unsure of what to say.

“Would the young master begrudge us a moment to say good-bye?” Sung Hyunjae asked mildly.

Han Yoohyun’s eyes narrowed, but he turned his face aside without comment, not even uttering a single word of protest as Sung Hyunjae stood up and led Han Yoojin to the courtyard outside.

It felt strange, not having a ready retort at hand in Sung Hyunjae’s presence. Usually, the words poured out of him like water. “The matters at court must be something, to actually succeed at pulling you away from your vacation,” he tried awkwardly. Of course, he knew that they were actually rather urgent—it seemed that signs of foreign pressure from the Isles and the Empire had finally convinced the captain of the royal guard to allow the succession proceedings to continue.

Sung Hyunjae shrugged. “Alas, I was told that it’s difficult to prepare for a coronation without the person in question being present.”

“You actually asked?” Han Yoojin asked incredulously.

“Since young lord Yoojin declined to come with me.”

“Like I said, I want to spend more time with my brother, and…”

“I know. You needn’t explain yourself. But, if you ever get bored at Haeyeon, I’d welcome a visit from my dear Honey any time.” Sung Hyunjae smiled. “Even if you came in through the windows in the middle of the night, I wouldn’t complain.”

“Do I look like I have that kind of freakish athleticism?” Han Yoojin complained. He bit his lip. “I guess, by the next time I see you, you’ll have moved up in the world.”

“The both of us will, by all accounts,” Sung Hyunjae said lightly.

Han Yoojin remained silent.

“... May I ask why it seems that young lord Yoojin seems opposed to being given a title?” Sung Hyunjae probed gently.

“... It’s not that I’m opposed,” Han Yoojin refuted. “But it’s not such a simple thing. Having a title and a territory means expectations, responsibility. It means shouldering people’s lives.”

“Yet young lord Yoojin already seems to have decided to shoulder the responsibility of the entire Kingdom’s fate.”

“I’m not that nice,” he disagreed. “I care about my brother and my family first and foremost. Everything else… it’s good if I can do it, and I’d rather live in a peaceful world than not, but I would make the sacrifice if I had to.” In a way, he already had. The world, in return for his brother.

Sung Hyunjae only continued to smile gently in reply, as if humoring him. It was mildly irritating.

“I wonder how I could convince young lord Yoojin to speak a bit more highly of himself.”

Han Yoojin snorted. “Your Grace might not be familiar, but humility is generally considered a virtue.”

“In your case, you could stand to be more arrogant,” Sung Hyunjae remarked.

“Arrogance is the kind of thing that gets you a knife in the back,” Han Yoojin disagreed. “The wise eagle hides its talons, and all that.”

Sung Hyunjae laughed softly, reaching out to brush back a few loose strands of Han Yoojin’s bangs. “Being underestimated feels like strength to you, doesn’t it? Because you’ve fought that way your whole life.” Having finished with his bangs, he moved on to neatening the rest of his hair in light, soothing strokes. “But, you should try it. Having more confidence. Whether it’s your character, your abilities, your achievements, or your backing—all of them will speak for themselves.” He smiled again, the features of his face made oddly gentle by the glow of the afternoon sun. “Han Yoojin, you have the capital to be confident.”

Han Yoojin swallowed, looking down at his feet. It felt strangely reassuring, to be praised in such a manner by someone like Sung Hyunjae. He had no reason to lie—he was the kind of person who would mercilessly cut someone off if they were useless. In fact, he had cut plenty of unique and talented people off, too, for much less.

“I will,” he said hesitantly, “think about it.”

“Please do.” Sung Hyunjae’s eyes crinkled. “And think about me, too.”

“Of course,” Han Yoojin promised. “Every day, I’ll pray to whichever higher being is listening that Your Grace will be afflicted by premature baldness.”

Sung Hyunjae raised his eyebrows. “Does my dear Honey prefer me shaven? No need for divine intervention, that can be arranged now.”

No way, Han Yoojin shook his head vigorously. Sung Hyunjae’s hair was basically a national treasure. Who knew what kind of terrible karma would befall him if he was responsible for its loss? He scowled with annoyance at having his bluff called.

“I see,” Sung Hyunjae hummed thoughtfully. “I’ll remember that.”

“Go ‘remember’ your appointment with the captain of the guard instead,” Han Yoojin told him tartly.

Sung Hyunjae smiled patiently. It was the kind of self-assured expression that said, ‘Even if I don’t go, the captain of the guard will come find me.’ “Won’t my dear Honey grant me the honor of a farewell gift?”

Han Yoojin eyed him suspiciously. It wouldn’t be, that he’d remembered the Queen of the Sea’s existence after all, and now he wanted something back? It was too late, okay, too late! The deal was already signed!

“There’s a superstition, in foreign lands,” Sung Hyunjae began. “Before setting out on a journey, one should—”

Han Yoojin grabbed him by the collar and pulled him down, using the leverage to lift himself onto his tiptoes as well. Rather than a kiss, it would be more accurate to call it bashing their faces together, the effort leaving his lips bruised and his teeth aching.

“Happy?” He demanded.

Sung Hyunjae licked his lips with satisfaction. “Very much so.”

Chapter Text

Seok Simyeong pressed his fingers to his temples for the umpteenth time since the elder Han brother’s arrival. Han Yoojin’s name always seemed to forebode a headache for him, even on the rare occasion—such as this one—where the troubles did not appear to be explicitly his fault.

After all, bringing about the appearance of a monster of mythic strength—that seemed a little above even Han Yoojin’s capability for wreaking havoc.

That the monster had existed was irrefutable—there had been too many eyewitnesses. But nobody except for the few involved had actually seen how the monster had died. Furthermore, only Seseong and Breaker’s hunters had been mobilized to fight the monster swarm at Breaker, so nobody from Haeyeon could even give him even an approximation of what had occurred.

Perhaps even more disconcerting than the monster itself was Breaker and Seseong’s strange cooperation. Though it was fortunate that the Wall remained intact as a result, it boded ill for Haeyeon if the other two ducal houses had somehow entered into an alliance that excluded them. Breaker and Seseong publicly claimed that the elder Han brother had been the hinge for both their cooperation and for the downfall of the monster, but the claim was so fantastical that it almost seemed too obviously a deflection for something more insidious.

And the only person present at the time whose word Seok Simyeong should have been able to trust on the matter was equally compromised.

Seok Simyeong had been working as Haeyeon’s chief administrator and the duke’s most trusted advisor for three years now, and his evaluation of the young duke remained much the same as the day they’d met. The duke of Haeyeon was bold and decisive, yet maintained a heavy sense of responsibility. He seemed immune to greed and other worldly temptations, and he possessed the natural strength and charisma of an elite in spades. Though he was young and lacking in experience, he made up for it with sharp wits and a willingness to learn. One could argue that his temper ran a little hot, but for him to be taken seriously at his young age, Seok Simyeoung thought it necessary for him to be willing to show his hand every now and then. So, yes, Han Yoohyun was, in almost all respects, a perfect leader.

Except for one thing.

Han Yoohyun’s only, sole weakness, his single flaw—his brother.

Frankly, Seok Simyeoung found it hard to believe that two brothers of the same blood could be so different. Where Han Yoohyun was tireless and determined, Han Yoojin was weak-willed and easily manipulated. Where Han Yoohyun was selfless and steadfast, Han Yoojin was greedy and ambitious.

At first, Seok Simyeong had been sympathetic. Before the purge, House Haeyeon of three years ago had been a veritable viper’s nest. Though Han Yoojin had been implicated in its downfall, he had clearly been just an ignorant youth, a puppet caught in the bloody crossfires. Getting exiled had been a mercy for him. After assuming his post as administrator, Seok Simyeong had even reached out with an offer of monetary compensation, if Han Yoojin would just settle down and live quietly somewhere far away from Haeyeon—but he’d been rudely rejected.

After that, Han Yoojin became his personal nightmare. He could not recall how many times he’d been ordered to clean up some mess Han Yoojin had made—he’d gotten into yet another fight with some baron’s third son, or he’d tried to sneak off on some absurd, illegal treasure-hunting expedition, chasing nonexistent fantasies of power and riches. His patience quickly ran out—he made no secret of the fact to the duke of Haeyeon, but no matter what his brother did, or how Seok Simyeoung persuaded him, Han Yoohyun refused to take that last, final step and cut his brother out of his life for good. Outwardly, Han Yoohyun might have claimed to have disavowed his brother, but nobody in Haeyeon’s top brass had ever been under the illusion that he was anything short of obsessed.

So, when it came to matters involving Han Yoojin, Seok Simyeong couldn’t even afford to trust his own liege lord.

“What should we do about the baby monsters, sir?” One of his aides questioned.

Seok Simyeong pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed. “Leave them with the other goods for now. I’ll come and inspect them myself.”

“Understood, sir.”

Getting up from his seat at his desk, he strode outside to the servants’ receiving entrance, where boxes and boxes of valuables were being hauled over in carts bearing Seseong’s crest.

If Han Yoojin had waltzed back in alone, that would have been one thing. Though the thrall he held over Han Yoohyun was troublesome, it would have been a simple enough solution to keep him tucked away in some corner where he couldn’t cause trouble. But he had come back with some supposed ability to tame monsters, plastered in the insignias of the two other dukes of the kingdom. If Seok Simyoung knew one thing, it was that a manipulable fool was even more dangerous as a friend than as an enemy. And Seseong had never been discreet about its desire to meddle in Haeyeon’s affairs.

“Hyung,” Han Yoohyun’s unhappy voice drifted over from behind a pile of boxes. “Do you have to keep these? If you want something like this, I can buy it for you.”

“Don’t say that, Yoohyun. Your hyung worked very hard to earn his keep. Would you have me throw away the fruits of my sweat and tears?”

Han Yoohyun still had a sullen expression on his face when Seok Simyeong rounded the corner, giving a bow in greeting. “Your Grace.”

“Seok Simyeong.” Han Yoohyun nodded in greeting.

“... Lord Seok.” Expression a little stiff, Han Yoojin greeted him as well, with a bow that was surprisingly correct for his current station.

The two of them exchanged a tense look of silence. In truth, they had met in person only twice thus far, with most of their involvement with each other being carried out through proxies—the numerous guards sent to deal with Han Yoojin’s antics, to be precise. It was likely that Han Yoojin knew exactly what Seok Simyeong’s opinion of him was, though, as he had been quite public about it.

“I came here to evaluate the best way to handle the monsters that were sent over from Seseong,” Seok Simyeong stated blandly. “Seeing as Your Grace’s brother is here, perhaps he could advise on the matter? Based on the reports I was given, I assume that all of these monsters have been tamed already.”

“... No,” Han Yoojin said reluctantly. “Only the gryphon has. The two unicorns remain untamed.”

“Oh?” Seok Simyeong raised his eyebrows. “May I ask why?”

“I’m currently… unable to use my skills,” Han Yoojin answered, looking a little frustrated.

“I see. For the purposes of understanding how to care for these creatures, may I ask when you anticipate being able to tame them? Or, is it an ability that only happens to works under… specific conditions?” There was a pointedness to his question that he didn’t bother to hide.

“Seok Simyeong,” Han Yoohyun said in a warning tone. His presence flared, and Seok Simyeoung winced a little at the increase in pressure, but he managed to maintain his upright posture. Despite his administrative focus, he was every bit a high-ranked hunter, too, and he had been serving as Han Yoohyun’s most trusted advisor for three years.

“Pardon my straightforward inquiries, Your Grace, but I prefer to deal with facts, not rumors,” he said, keeping his voice even. He was rather proud of his composure—his ability to deal with even elites, if not quite as equals, then at least as players on the same board.

“Yoohyun, it’s alright.” Han Yoojin raised a hand, stepping in front of Han Yoohyun as he turned to look at Seok Simyeong. “That’s correct, I can’t use my monster-taming ability at the moment. Perhaps for the foreseeable future. You can draw whatever conclusions you’d like from that.”

Seok Simyeong evaluated the young man before him. He had to admit, Han Yoojin’s response had been more level than he’d expected. He seemed more mature, more weathered than the person in Seok Simyeong’s memories. But, that didn’t necessarily mean that his claim held any water. The ability to tame monsters… Even assuming it wasn’t another of Seseong’s tricks, it had yet to be seen how useful it would be. If Han Yoojin’s ability only extended to weak juveniles like the orange cat around his neck, then it was little better than an entertaining gimmick. One that might fetch a high price tag among the rich and bored, but irrelevant in the grand scheme of things.

“Then, how shall we handle the rest of the valuables, Your Grace?” Adjusting his glasses, Seok Simyeong swept his gaze over the pile of boxes before him. “If I may, I don’t believe that accepting unconditional gifts from another House is appropriate, especially not at this scale. I would recommend returning them to Seseong immediately.”

Han Yoohyun’s jaw clenched visibly. “I understand that principle. These are addressed to my brother.”

“For the last time, it’s my payment, my payment ,” Han Yoojin said, sounding annoyed.

Seok Simyeong eyed him disdainfully. Was he really naive enough to believe that? The duke of Seseong was known to be generous with his current favorites, it was true, but even for that, this was excessive. There was some kind of naked ulterior motive at play—it was just that Seok Simyeong had yet to figure out what kind.

“Nonetheless, since it’s been sent to Haeyeon, we must assume responsibility for being in possession of it. Unless, Your Grace’s brother has a second address he’d like us to send these to?”

Everyone present knew that such a thing didn’t exist. Han Yoojin had seemingly disappeared off the face of the earth a few months ago, forfeiting almost all of his earthly possessions in the process. When he’d finally reappeared, it had been at Seseong after the late king’s death, with no indication as to where he’d been in between that time. Another reason he couldn’t be trusted.

Han Yoojin let out a long exhale. “I understand your concerns, Lord Seok,” he said, with thinly veiled impatience. “If it reassures you, you can keep most of the items stored away in Haeyeon’s vaults for the time being. The baby monsters will have to be cared for, of course. And I’ll be taking these with me.” As he spoke, he picked out a selection of rare materials from the stash. Frostwood, some ice coral, the mana stone of some kind of sea monster.

“For Bak Yerim?” Han Yoohyun asked, glancing at his selection.

Han Yoojin nodded. “I want to get a proper weapon made for her. An elite-rank one, ideally.”

Seok Simyeong frowned. Was he trying to curry favor with Haeyeon’s other elite, as well? How… material of him. But, though Han Yoojin spoke of forging a weapon so easily, it was no simple task. Of the types of artifacts that could be made, weapons were the most difficult. The only weaponsmith alive who was capable of forging top-quality weapons resided outside the Kingdom, in the Isles, and even then, he was only able to make high-rank ones. It just went to show how little Han Yoojin understood of the world of hunters.

Perhaps because of his affection for his brother, Han Yoohyun said nothing on the topic, instead preoccupying himself with directing the servants. “Take away the rest of the boxes,” he ordered, looking more pleased than he had for the entire conversation thus far. “And make sure to have the Seseong couriers relate to their lord that the delivery is being safely stored where it belongs—far out of sight.”

Han Yoojin gave his brother an exasperated look. “Yoohyun…”

“Yes, hyung? ” Han Yoohyun beamed.

Han Yoojin let out a heavy sigh. “… Nevermind. It’s nothing.”

“Sir Kim Sunghan,” Seok Simyeong said wearily. “You’ve already received your new post. It’s not your job to question it.”

“But, my lord,” Kim Sunghan argued. “What if my defensive support is needed during a patrol?”

“It’s the duke’s orders,” Seok Simyeong answered with resignation. “He’s decreed guarding his brother to be of the highest priority. You know as well as I do that he won’t be swayed on this topic.”

Kim Sunghan said nothing, but his mouth thinned with unspoken frustration. This wasn’t the first time they’d had a similar conversation—more often than not, Kim Sunghan had been the one sent to rip Han Yoojin away from whatever latest trouble he’d landed himself in, forcing him to take valuable manpower away from their already overtaxed patrols. Haeyeon was in better shape now, but when Han Yoohyun had first assumed his title, there really hadn’t been any manpower to spare. And yet, they’d still had to waste the time of a high-rank hunter just for his brother.

Seok Simyeong sighed. “Just think of it as preventative damage control. Make sure he doesn’t get up to anything strange while you’re guarding him. It will save everyone a lot of time.”

“Yes, my lord.” Despite his evident dissatisfaction, Kim Sunghan bowed and left.

As the door closed behind him, Seok Simyeong turned to the next order of business raised by Han Yoojin’s sudden appearance. The baby monsters he’d decided to take under his wing—for one, they ate their weight’s worth of gold in mana stones every day. It wasn’t the burden that it would have been on Haeyeon’s finances just one or two years ago, but it wasn’t that they had money to throw away, either. And moreover, now they had to allot hunters to help with the care of the creatures as well. It was just lucky that Bak Yerim had begun joining the hunting patrols since her return, freeing up extra hands for the task.

If the baby monsters really did turn out to become assets that could aid in patrols, then taking care of them would be well worth it. But when Han Yoojin’s supposed ability seemed so unreliable and, frankly, rather dubious… Seok Simyeong had never been one to gamble.

“My lord.” A knock on the door interrupted his thoughts. One of the servants greeted him with a bow. “His Grace wants to know if you’ve finished reviewing the proposal.”

With a sigh, Seok Simyeong stood up. “Yes, I’ll meet with him now.”

Straightening his collar, he picked up the stack of documents that he’d been reviewing and strode toward Han Yoohyun’s study. When he arrived, he knocked on the door with a polite but firm rap.

“Seok Simyeong, Your Grace,” he said, announcing himself.

“Come in.”

Han Yoohyun was sitting in front of a pile of nine or ten communication artifacts made in varying styles, from the plain, tablet-shaped ones that relied purely on writing to one that was shaped like an elegant glass-blown lizard. Even the simplest of them cost a small fortune, and Seok Simyeong had a feeling that he would regret it if he asked why there were ten here.

“Your Grace, I’ve reviewed the papers, as you’ve asked, and if I may be so bold, I find all of the proposals simply unacceptable.”

Han Yoohyun nodded, looking satisfied. “I agree. They’re too small.”

“They… Your Grace?” Seok Simyeong felt his headache start to come back.

“None of the regions marked have the requisite population size or area to even qualify as a marquisate. What does Sung Hyunjae take my brother for? Does he plan to have him settle for a mere earldom?”

“… Pardon me, Your Grace,” Seok Simyeong began. “But, I actually find the new territory boundaries proposed by Duke Seseong to be incredibly astute. Each one covers the space of a cohesive cultural and political unit while encompassing strong economic backbone. It would make governing the new territory very straightforward.”

It felt terribly strange to be defending the duke of Seseong, his sworn enemy—in a manner of speaking—to his liege lord.

“In fact, that’s where the problem lies. First, the fact that he was able to make these judgments shows that Seseong has an unnervingly detailed grasp of Haeyeon’s state of affairs. And second, meddling in the matter of Han Yoojin’s peerage suggests that Seseong may intend to use this—to use him—as leverage or an entrypoint into exerting undue influence on Haeyeon. Therefore, I beseech Your Grace to reconsider the matter of titling your brother.”

Han Yoohyun frowned. “Have I not made myself clear? The matter is non-negotiable.”

“Your Grace would ignore the dangers of Seseong’s interference?”

“That guy also has his own reasons,” Han Yoohyun said with annoyance. “They aren’t something for you to worry about.”

Seok Simyeong pressed his mouth into a thin line. “Your Grace. I believe you are making a grievous misjudgment based on your personal feelings. While I empathize with familial affection, I cannot sit by and watch as you allow it to interfere with serious matters of state.” Removing the ring from his finger that bore the seal of his office, he placed it gently on the duke of Haeyeon’s desk. “If my advice is not to be taken, I see no reason for me to continue my post.”

It was partially a test of Han Yoohyun’s resolve, but in a way, Seok Simyeong was serious. If Han Yoohyun was so far beyond reason as to let his chief administrator go without warning just for the sake of an unsound political move, then he was no longer the liege lord who Seok Simyeong had respected, served, and advised all these years.

Han Yoohyun stared at the ring on the desk for a few moments, the corner of his eye twitching. “Take the seal back, Seok Simyeong,” he said tersely, turning his head aside. “I won’t go through with the motion without your approval.”

With a mental sigh of relief, Seok Simyeong retrieved the ring. So, Han Yoohyun wasn’t that far gone for his brother.

“Even if I would have done it,” Han Yoohyun muttered, “ Hyung would get mad at me.”

Seok Simyeong blinked. And blinked again.

His hyung? Were they still talking about that hyung?

A few weeks into Han Yoojin’s stay, the duke of Seseong arrived without warning. Normally, the reception of Haeyeon’s guests wasn’t something Seok Simyeong would intervene in, but given the issues at hand, he thought it prudent to at least exercise some caution around Sung Hyunjae.

“Your Grace,” Seok Simyeong said, escorting their visitor to one of the more lavish drawing rooms in the fortress. “Forgive our humble reception. You sent very short notice of your arrival.”

Sung Hyunjae settled into an armchair, crossing his legs leisurely. “I was simply struck by the sudden urge to visit. No need for such formalities between family.”

“… Between family, Your Grace?”

The duke of Seseong smiled, the sharp points of his canines on full display. Seok Simyeong suppressed a shiver. It was one thing to deal with this man behind papers and correspondence, safely behind a desk, but negotiating with him in person was—even as a high-ranked hunter, he felt goosebumps rise on his skin. This was an apex predator. He could not forget that for a second.

“My meaning is, both of our Houses are tasked with defending the kingdom and the Wall, so as brothers-in-arms, I think of Duke Haeyeon as my own family, so to speak,” Sung Hyunjae said casually.

“… Your Grace is most compassionate,” Seok Simyeong managed. “Unfortunately, if you’re here to seek Duke Haeyeon, he’s currently absent.” Han Yoohyun was out on a patrol, and Seok Simyeong very much doubted that Sung Hyunjae wasn’t aware of the fact.

“No need for that. It’s not Duke Haeyeon I’m here to speak with.”

As he spoke, Sung Hyunjae’s gaze swept slowly up and down Seok Simyeong, as if sizing him up, and he stiffened involuntarily at the motion.

“Seok Simyeong,” Sung Hyunjae mused, as if testing the name in his mouth. “If I recall correctly, you’ve sent us quite a few gifts the last few years.”

“Simply returning Your Grace’s… excessive favor,” Seok Simyeong answered woodenly. Seseong had played no small part in assisting in Haeyeon’s rebuilding efforts, despite Seok Simyeong’s best attempts. In fact, he suspected that the duke of Seseong enjoyed secretly sending aid just to see if Seok Simyeong would catch it, as part of some twisted game. Of course, he’d repaid all of it to Seseong in full.

“Your integrity is admirable,” Sung Hyunjae remarked, eyes sparkling playfully. “Then, to raise an issue that’s been on my mind—I’ve been expecting a document on my desk for some time now. The request to declare a new territory and corresponding peerage. I believe Duke Haeyeon and I are of one opinion on this matter, so I cannot imagine what else might be causing the delay. As his advisor, perhaps you have some insight?”

… So it was that, after all. Though Seok Simyeong was surprised that the duke of Seseong had come in person, rather than sending a representative. However, that opened up the opportunity to sound out his motives.

“… If Your Grace would pardon my forwardness,” Seok Simyeong ventured cautiously, “I find myself perplexed by Your Grace’s interest in this matter.”

Sung Hyunjae tilted his head. “I’m about to assume the responsibility of overseeing the entire kingdom. Is it strange for me to be interested in the affairs within it?”

Seok Simyeong grit his teeth. “I cannot help but wonder if Your Grace’s interest leans more toward the title, or toward Han Yoojin himself.”

“Ah,” Sung Hyunjae said. “It’s true that one of the two is exchangeable, and the other is not. Advisor Seok, would you like to guess which is which?”

“… May I inquire as to the nature of Your Grace’s relationship with Han Yoojin?”

The curve of Sung Hyunjae’s lips became wry. “I often find myself wondering the same thing.”

Seok Simyeong’s forehead creased. If it was a way of deflecting the question, it was a strange one. “Should I take that to mean that Your Grace is unwilling to say?”

“It means that something like defining a relationship shouldn’t be done one-sidedly,” Sung Hyunjae replied cryptically.

Seok Simyeong pursed his lips. “If that’s the case, then I’m afraid I cannot approve of this matter. Of course, I don’t have the authority to prevent it, but I wouldn’t advise my liege to invite the undue influence of outsiders into our territory’s affairs.”

Instead of replying immediately, Sung Hyunjae leaned back in his seat, scrutinizing Seok Simyeong with a gaze that made his hair stand on end. Frankly, he could barely withstand the urge to ask him to leave immediately, but he resisted.

“I see,” Sung Hyunjae said, suddenly chuckling. “It’s been hard on you, Advisor Seok.”

The unexpected turn in conversation threw Seok Simyeong off-balance, though he tried his best not to show it. “… Your Grace is too kind.”

“Truly. You’re a smart, rational man, so I’m sure it’s rare for you to be so in doubt. You’ve heard all sorts of strange rumors over the past few weeks. Stories of a monster of mythic proportions, of monsters being tamed. All of it goes against everything you’ve known, but you haven’t witnessed any of it in person. You don’t know what to believe. So you fall back on what you do know—blaming Han Yoojin.”

Sung Hyunjae stood up, and suddenly his presence seemed to fill the room—a terrible, suffocating weight that made it difficult to get a single word out. Sweat collected on Seok Simyeong’s brow—this was the feeling of a prey animal being pinned by the throat.

“It’s a normal reaction. Very natural, really. So it’s not that I’m disappointed in you, Advisor Seok. But, I must admit, I still feel rather displeased about the situation.” Despite his calm tone, every word from his mouth hung in the air like a threat, the slow stroke of his hand on the armrest as menacing as if it had been brandishing a blade. “What should I do about this displeasure, I wonder?”

Seok Simyeong clenched and unclenched his jaw, forcing his spine to remain straight. Not for the first time, he was infinitely glad of his high rank. There were those who said there was no need for bureaucratic officials to be hunters, but those people had never faced an unhappy elite who was willing to see the rules bent by force.

“Even if you threaten me, I won’t change my position.”

“Threaten you?” Sung Hyunjae sounded amused. “There’s no need for that. Let’s make a small wager, you and I. Before the month is over, I predict that you’ll be the one begging Han Yoojin on your hands and knees to stay, from the bottom of your heart.”

“... Do I have a choice in this wager?” Seok Simyeong asked reluctantly.

“You could always choose to forfeit now,” Sung Hyunjae shrugged. “As for the terms, let’s see… I have in my office a list of all of the aid Seseong has lent Haeyeon over the past three years that has yet to be paid back in full. If you win, you can have the list without fuss. But if I win—” His eyes gleamed playfully. “—you’ll see that list read aloud at a nice, private dinner reception that I’ll host in the near future.”

Seok Simyeong froze. “... There’s nothing remaining,” he said through gritted teeth. “I’ve made sure the balance is clear.”

Sung Hyunjae’s smile didn’t falter. “You can believe that, if you’d like.”

Seok Simyeong mulled the conditions over. All he had to do to win was not change his opinion on Han Yoojin? That hadn’t happened in the last three years. It didn’t seem like a difficult task. But he knew better than to underestimate Sung Hyunjae.

“What does Your Grace stand to gain from this?”

It might have been a trick of the light, but it looked like Sung Hyunjae’s expression softened just a fraction. “Luckily for you, Advisor Seok, yours is only the second most stubborn mind that has to be changed. Yesterday’s enemy is today’s friend. Once you come around on this issue, you may be in a better position to convince him than I.”

“... ‘Him’?” Seok Simyeong wondered.

“You’re a smart man. I’m sure you’ll figure it out.” Having spoken, Sung Hyunjae brushed some imaginary dust off of his clothes and strode toward the door. “I believe Duke Haeyeon is due to return soon, isn’t he? In that case, I should finish my main order of business quickly.”

… What? So, that hadn’t even been his primary goal?

Seok Simyeong listened to Sung Hyunjae’s receding footsteps with a breath of relief, the heavy presence dissipating from the room. Finally, the sluggish gears in his head began to turn again as he attempted to wrap his mind around the conversation that had just transpired. It was only after a few beats that he realized—Shit.

He had just let the duke of Seseong go wandering the halls of Haeyeon completely unsupervised.

The duke of Seseong had vanished without a trace by the time Seok Simyeong had run out to find him, but luckily, he had not been inconspicuous about where he was heading. It only took a handful of inquiries for Seok Simyeong to make his way to the training grounds in the east wing, which had been temporarily repurposed as a home for the baby monsters.

When he arrived, however, he froze. Instead of the duke, what he found was a fiery monster the size and shape of a lion, bounding across the length of the training grounds. With a majestic leap, it caught a spinning disc out of the air, then turned direction and leapt—right at a standing Han Yoojin.

“Guards!” Seok Simyeong yelled quickly, running at the lion, but aside from being unaccustomed to combat, he was also simply too slow. “Where is Kim Sunghan?!” Sweat drenched his back as the monster tackled Han Yoojin to the ground. If they let anything happen to him—while he was within Haeyeon’s walls, no less—he shuddered to think what Han Yoohyun would do.

“Wait, wait, wait—” From the ground, Han Yoojin waved his hands frantically. “That’s just Peace!”

Seok Simyeong remained rooted to the ground, watching with fascinated horror as the monster licked Han Yoojin’s face enthusiastically, then shrunk to the size of an orange cat in a puff of smoke. He recognized the cat—he’d seen it sitting on Han Yoojin’s shoulders on the few occasions they’d crossed paths during his stay. Although he’d known it was a monster, he’d never realized… that it was a monster.

And Han Yoojin carried that thing around on his shoulders every day?

“My, Peace, you’ve caused a stir.” In the midst of the commotion, Seok Simyeong had neglected to notice his missing guest standing beside Han Yoojin. It was impossible to overlook him now that he had made his presence known—the duke of Seseong’s intimidating aura dominated the space. With all the care and tenderness of a gardener plucking a flower, Sung Hyunjae lifted Han Yoojin off the ground and set him gently on his feet.

Once upright, Han Yoojin patted the dust and grass off his clothes before bowing. “Lord Seok. What brings you out here?”

Seok Simyeong smiled stiffly. “I merely thought it ill-advised to neglect our guest during his visit.”

Han Yoojin glanced at him, then at Sung Hyunjae. “... It’s been hard on you, Lord Seok,” Han Yoojin said dryly.

The familiar echo of the words made Seok Simyeong shiver. He pushed up his glasses, his smile rigid as bone. “Not at all. It was my honor to entertain Duke Seseong.”

“‘Entertain,’ indeed...” Han Yoojin muttered under his breath, lifting a hand absently to pet the cat on his shoulder. “Well, Your Grace, your chaperone is calling. Does that mean you’ll have to head home before curfew like a good little boy?” The words were directed at Sung Hyunjae, his lips arranged in a mocking curve.

Seok Simyeong’s eyes bulged. This was it. This was really it. Han Yoojin was about to be wiped off the face of the earth by a flash of lightning. At least Han Yoohyun wouldn’t be able to fault him for being unable to defeat the duke of Seseong in single combat.

“My dear Honey.” Sung Hyunjae casually teased Han Yoojin’s hand out of the orange cat’s fur, bringing it to his lips instead. “If I didn’t know better, I would think that you were heartlessly chasing me away as soon as you were done using my body as you pleased.”

Han Yoojin’s smile froze for a split second, his eyes darting toward Seok Simyeong. Seok Simyeong, for his part, would rather that they have forgotten his presence altogether. He wished for nothing more at that moment than to become one with the earth. And perhaps his prayers were partly answered, because an ear-splitting yell soon cut through the deceptive calm.

“Ahjussi! Other ahjussi! We’re back!”

It was Bak Yerim’s excited voice, announcing the arrival of the person herself. Where one second there had been calm, swaying leaves in the slight summer wind, the next, there was only a blur of energetic girl. Before Seok Simyeong even had time to fully process her arrival, she was followed by an irritated-looking Han Yoohyun bursting through the foliage, short on her heels.

“What are you doing here?” Han Yoohyun glowered at Sung Hyunjae, his ire at Bak Yerim quickly finding a new target.

Sung Hyunjae raised an eyebrow. “Young lord Yoojin beseeched me in such a lovely manner, saying that he was utterly lost without me at his side, so I came at once.”

Han Yoojin cleared his throat. “To help with the unicorns. Even though they’re docile, they’ve been stressed at being handled by so many strangers, so I thought it better to tame them right away.”

Han Yoohyun looked sullen. “If it’s just mana that you need, I don’t see why it has to be his.”

“Yoohyun.” Han Yoojin smiled helplessly. “You don’t have to take care of everything. Let your hyung handle this, hmm?” Lifting his free hand, he patted Han Yoohyun’s head softly. It might’ve been the first time Seok Simyeong had seen such a childish expression on his liege lord’s face.

It might’ve been the first time he’d felt so out of place within Haeyeon’s walls.

“... Your Graces,” he spoke up reluctantly. “It seems my presence here is unneeded, so I’ll take my leave.”

He almost regretted the words as soon as they left his mouth, because immediately, the heavy, unmitigated gazes of three elites all turned to him. He felt them as a prickling, a crawling sensation on his skin, and his quick strides away from the training grounds were as good as fleeing.

It was only after he’d returned to his office that a sudden realization struck him.

Hadn’t Han Yoojin… seemed perfectly fine? He had behaved so naturally that the thought hadn’t even occurred to Seok Simyeong, but Han Yoohyun’s brother was, for all intents and purposes, the lowest of low-ranked hunters. So how was he able to treat the presence of three elites—not to mention that monster—like they were nothing?

For the first time, Seok Simyeong began to wonder if he’d misjudged Han Yoojin quite badly.

There was only one person who could answer the burning doubts Seok Simyeong had, and ironically, that person was the very source of his confusion. So he had the servants set up a pot of steaming tea and a tray of delicacies in his office before calling for Han Yoojin.

“Lord Seok,” Han Yoojin greeted. “You have something to discuss with me?”

Seok Simyeong’s fingers drummed on the table as he collected his thoughts. “First, I will apologize,” he said flatly. “I believe I’ve misjudged you over the past few years, and I’ve allowed my prejudices to cloud my judgment.”

Han Yoojin absorbed the words in silence. “... I was also at fault in the past,” he said finally. “I was immature in a lot of ways, and I’ve reflected on my shortcomings.”

“I have confidence in your words,” Seok Simyeong acknowledged. “However, I will be frank. Despite all of this, I do not think that your presence here is beneficial to either Haeyeon or to the duke.”

“... May I ask why?” Han Yoojin said evenly.

“To put it bluntly, your presence causes Duke Haeyeon to make decisions that aren’t of sound judgment.” Seok Simyeong adjusted his glasses, taking a deep breath. “Take the incident a few weeks ago, for example—His Grace left Haeyeon for Breaker without warning. Though I understand there were extenuating circumstances, he also continuously delayed his return, causing an interruption in patrols for close to a week.

“There’s also the issue of reinstating you in the Haeyeon family register. The memories of three years ago are still very fresh, and nothing good would come of digging up old wounds. Not to mention, there are those who would try to use you to undermine His Grace’s position. And lastly, of course, the issue of granting you a title—cutting you a territory out of Haeyeon means reducing Haeyeon’s influence, and frankly, it also seems like you might be, ah… compromised by Seseong’s interests. Unfortunately, I believe that His Grace will not listen to reason as long as you’re nearby.”

Han Yoojin remained quiet the entire time that he spoke. Even after Seok Simyeong was done, he continued to sit there in silence, his fingers tapping absently against the armrest. He had yet to take a sip of the tea.

“Lord Seok,” he said finally. “In the past, you’ve tried to convince Yoohyun to cut ties with me.”

“... After speaking with you recently, I no longer believe such drastic measures are necessary. Although I understand your anger, I stand by my previous judgments at the time.”

Han Yoojin exhaled slowly. “I am angry, of course. There were many times… Your words made things more difficult than they had to be. But, it’s not that I don’t completely understand.” His lips twisted bitterly. “Sometimes, I’ve wondered if it wouldn’t have been better if Yoohyun had managed to really cut ties with me, too.” He paused, taking a breath. “But, he didn’t. Just as it’s impossible for me to cut ties with him. We’re speaking here now, like this, because it was impossible.”

Raising his head, he met Seok Simyeong’s gaze head-on, and Seok Simyeong couldn’t ignore the chill that went down his spine.

“So, regardless of what you say, I plan to stay at my brother’s side. Things like distancing myself from him on purpose, saying that it’s for his own good—I won’t even consider it.”

For the first time, Seok Simyeong thought that he could see in Han Yoojin the shape of the mold that had created Han Yoohyun.

“As for your other concerns—the reinstatement and the title, I don’t plan on taking them.”

“... You don’t?” Seok Simyeong blurted out before he could help himself.

Han Yoojin shook his head. “What would I do with a title? As for land, I just need enough to take care of the baby monsters. It’s inconvenient in a lot of ways for them to be living inside the Haeyeon fortress. And besides, I intend to raise them for the other Houses, too, so it’s not suitable for Haeyeon to be taking care of them. The plans for the new facility are still being drawn up, so please bear with it until then.”

“... I see.” If the title was out of the picture, then his concerns were no longer as pressing. As for the monster-raising facility… If it was handled independent of Haeyeon, that might indeed be for the best. They wouldn’t need to be so cautious of outside influences, but it wouldn’t cut off the ability to do business with the facility, either. But the fact that he hadn’t heard about this new facility at all meant that the financials were being handled by… “May I ask where the funding for the new facility is coming from?”

“The majority of the funding is being contributed by Breaker, as thanks for help during the crisis a few weeks ago. Seseong has also given a portion as an advance payment for one of the kids I’m raising.”

… So, had Han Yoojin’s involvement in the Bhabar crisis really been significant enough for Breaker to give monetary repayment? Or was that merely an excuse to gain a share in the new facility? Seok Simyeong frowned. Either way, that meant that the potential of this monster-taming ability was greater than he’d initially suspected. He would have to look into it more seriously. Moreover, it was unpleasant to hear more evidence that the other two ducal houses were excluding Haeyeon in their cooperation.

“... And the intent is to raise monsters for the three ducal houses?”

“More specifically, to help with the defense of the Wall,” Han Yoojin clarified. “The three duchies would benefit the most directly, but I would exercise my own judgment on the details.”

Seok Simyeong adjusted his glasses pensively. “In that case, Haeyeon would also be willing to contribute a portion of the costs. If the potential of raising monsters can assist with the efficiency of patrols, it would be well worth the investment.”

Han Yoojin shot him a pointed look. “I was under the impression that the cost of feeding and housing the monsters was enough of a burden on Haeyeon currently.”

Seok Simyeong cleared his throat. “It’s our goal to maintain discipline with our budgetary spending, but that doesn’t mean that we don’t have the funds when needed.”

“I see. In that case, I suppose I should have been more clear. I had already intended on considering Haeyeon’s generosity during this time as part of its contributions to the facility.” Han Yoojin smiled neutrally. “Personal matters and business matters are separate, in the end.”

“... I’m glad to hear that you’re easy to speak with on this topic. Still, I hope that we won’t treat each other as complete strangers.” Seok Simyeong’s lips also settled into a cool smile, a reflection of Han Yoojin’s. “I’m sure you must have many questions, undertaking such an ambitious venture. Hiring, construction, administration—please allow Haeyeon to advise whenever you find yourself in need.”

Han Yoojin raised his eyebrows. “Lord Seok’s advice has always been as valuable as gold. For example, your word of caution against allowing ‘undue influence’ to affect my decisions.”

Seok Simyeong laughed amiably. “That warning was aimed toward outsiders. Seeing as we’re practically family, we should naturally help each other.”

“‘Family,’” Han Yoojin echoed dryly. “Lord Seok is really too generous.”

“Like I said, generosity is nothing between family,” Seok Simyeong returned. “How about this—let us look over your operating plans for the first few years, and Haeyeon might be willing to sponsor as much as a year’s worth of upkeep costs.”

“Lord Seok,” Han Yoojin said with an exaggerated sigh, “You’re asking for something in exchange for only a possibility. Unfortunately, with my humble means, I don’t have the luxury of agreeing to such a nebulous arrangement.”

“How very remiss of me,” Seok Simyeong said with a thin smile. “Have you decided on a location for your new facility yet? I imagine you’d want to work close to your brother. Why don’t you let Haeyeon provide the land upon which to build? But in order for us to find suitable options for you, we’ll need more information about the details of your intended operations.”

“That’s more like it,” Han Yoojin said with satisfaction. “Lord Seok, it seems that your reputation for business isn’t misplaced.”

“And your reputation… certainly doesn’t do you justice.”

Seok Simyeong looked over the young man before him with a complicated expression. Really, where had the useless troublemaker in his memories gone? It was like Han Yoojin had been taken over by a different person.

Or… had his own evaluation of him simply been that off the mark in the first place?

“I will instruct someone to speak with you shortly about the details,” Seok Simyeong said, lifting his cup to drain the last of his tea. “Then, if there isn’t any further business, I look forward to speaking with you soon, Han Yoojin.”

“Actually,” Han Yoojin said, “I do have further business with you.”

Seok Simyeong’s hand stilled in mid-air.

“Please,” he said, gesturing at Han Yoojin to continue.

“Your niece,” Han Yoojin said, his gaze sharp and direct. “Lady Seok Hayan. I’ve heard that she’s considering leaving the kingdom to continue her research on the language of runes.”

“... May I ask where you heard that information?” Seok Simyeong asked carefully. It was a topic that they’d only spoken of around the dinner table, idle musings between close friends and family. He couldn’t imagine where Han Yoojin would have heard—not even Seok Hayan herself had put much thought into it yet.

“Just a guess,” Han Yoojin shrugged. Pulling out an envelope, he slid it across the table. “Please pass this on to her, and tell her that if she’s interested in what it says, to give me one chance to change her mind.”

Seok Simyeong accepted the envelope, turning it curiously in his hands, but it was stamped shut with a wax seal, and the envelope was too thick to peek at the contents inside. Regardless, he could just about guess at the contents. After all, there was only one subject that could intrigue his niece.

“I’ll make sure she receives it,” he agreed.

… Han Yoojin. It seemed he had more tricks up his sleeve than Seok Simyeong had ever imagined.

The unveiling of Bak Yerim’s new weapon took the kingdom by storm. The Frostwood Trident, the only elite-rank weapon to be forged in living memory—and by a citizen of their very own Haeyeon, no less.

Yoo Meongwoo.

Headlines bearing his name were printed in every city and town in the kingdom, and likely in the countries beyond. The Isles were probably seething with rage at having their crown stolen so thunderously. A weaponsmith who could make not just high-rank, but elite- rank weapons. And not just some elderly man, but young blood, a newcomer who still had decades to improve his craft.

“I owe it all to Han Yoojin,” Yoo Meongwoo was quoted as saying. “Even though his situation was also poor at the time, he believed in both Yerim and I and helped us achieve our best selves. That we are who we are today is thanks to him, so for my part, my plan in the near future is to lend him my aid in whatever pursuits he decides to undertake.”

Seok Simyeong folded the newspaper back up and placed it on his desk with a wry laugh. “I’m the one who’s been played for a fool,” he said, with an amused smile. “Did you know? About Bak Yerim?”

Kim Sunghan hesitated. “... Only recently,” he admitted. “Han Yoojin is very different from what I remember.”

“That’s understating it,” Seok Simyeong said with a sigh, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Last night, I went to settle a deal with Viscountess Mulbora. She asked me which lucky star Haeyeon stole to have so much good fortune this year.” He laughed dryly.

Good fortune—it must certainly seem that way to the rest of the world. A young rookie elite, falling right into their lap. A weaponsmith of historic talent. The rumored new monster-taming ability. But now that he knew how to trace the threads back to their origin, it became all too clear where they led.

And he had a feeling that Han Yoojin was not yet done.

“Remind me never to make a wager against the duke of Seseong again,” Seok Simyeong muttered, standing up and rotating his neck, sore from sitting.

“... Lord Seok?” Kim Sunghan asked, looking puzzled.

Seok Simyeong smiled half-heartedly. “Pardon me for a moment. I have a bet to lose.”

Han Yoojin’s schedule remained fairly consistent most days, so he wasn’t very difficult to find. The most difficult part of meeting with him, actually, was typically catching him alone, which Seok Simyeong managed by picking a day when both Han Yoohyun and Bak Yerim were out on a patrol, and the duke of Seseong was busy with… something that wasn’t being here. He wasn’t too sure of the details.

“Han Yoojin,” Seok Simyeong greeted, knocking on the door to the small study Han Yoojin had claimed as his office. “May we speak for a moment?”

“Lord Seok,” Han Yoojin said with surprise. “... You’re looking for me?”

“I had a pressing matter to speak to you about.” Taking a deep breath, Seok Simyeong bowed deeply, all the way to the waist. “Standing against His Grace on the matter of granting you a title was my poor judgment, and I must admit my error. In light of my mistake, I have no choice but to implore you now to reconsider, and to please accept the privilege and the responsibility of becoming a lord of this kingdom.”

“What, all of a sudden…” Han Yoojin said, looking taken aback. “Is this because of what Yoo Meongwoo said? Really, he and Yerim… They’re exaggerating things, their talent was all theirs to start with.”

“All that’s to say is that your eye for talent was far better than mine. It would practically be criminal not to see what you can do with the resources of a territory.”

“That’s really too much.” Han Yoojin’s face colored a novel shade of pink. “If you want to be sorry or whatever, then let’s renegotiate the terms of our deal. Why don’t we say the first year’s upkeep costs will be guaranteed?”

“This and that are two separate affairs,” Seok Simyeong refused.

Han Yoojin clicked his tongue with disappointment. “It doesn’t seem like much of an apology if you refuse to give me what I want and insist on giving me what I don’t want. Besides, transferring any region of Haeyeon to me would be highly disruptive to its maintenance. It’s not like there’s a free territory out there waiting to be passed around.”

“There is, actually” Seok Simyeong corrected. “The Crescent Valley—the contested territory that Seseong recently ceded to Haeyeon. Due to, ah, disagreements between the two Houses, it has never had a strong governing presence, even more so with the recent transition. It’s not particularly developed, but it has fertile land and varied terrain. I can think of no region more appropriate for your purposes.”

“Are you mad?!” Han Yoojin exclaimed. “That region borders the Wall!”

“I see no issue with that. As it would remain one of Haeyeon’s vassal fiefs, we would continue to bear the responsibility for guarding its Wall. But once the monster taming program is in its maturity, there is no other vassal house who would be better poised to defend it.”

Han Yoojin laughed incredulously. “Have you forgotten what rank I am, Lord Seok? I’m lowest-rank, okay? Lowest! I can’t defend the Wall no matter how many monsters I have with me. If I get hit by a stray pebble, I’ll break.”

“Then hire some mid-rank hunters to supplement your forces.” Seok Simyeong shrugged. “The arrangements shouldn’t be a problem for someone of your caliber.”

“I can’t,” Han Yoojin snapped. “I can’t, I don’t want to, I won’t. Good day, Lord Seok.” He moved to close the door, but Seok Simyeong elbowed his way into its path. With their difference in strength, it wasn’t difficult at all.

“Please listen to reason, Han Yoojin,” he continued earnestly. “Sir Han Yoojin. No, young lord Yoojin—”

“Don’t call me that.”

“Sir, then,” he amended fluidly. Taking the seal ring off his finger, he held it out to Han Yoojin, who accepted it, looking baffled. Then, he gracefully smoothed out his coat and knelt fully to the ground on his hands and knees. “If you won’t accept the title, I’ll have no choice but to resign from my post as advisor and chief administrator, in atonement for the grave error of standing in the way of Haeyeon’s interests. It may have been a short three years, but I am proud to have shaped the current Haeyeon into what it is today, and I will retire knowing that I stayed true—”

“Stop—” Han Yoojin’s sentence broke off into a strangled noise. “Please get up, Lord Seok, this is embarrassing.”

Seok Simyeong pushed up his glasses, which had become displaced during his bow. “I’m not at all embarrassed to do what my office demands of me.”

“It’s embarrassing for me, ” Han Yoojin hissed. Taking a deep breath, he pinched the bridge of his nose. “I will… not commit to either a yes or a no at this time. If I make a decision in the future, it won’t be related to your stance at all. Happy?”

“For the time being,” Seok Simyeong agreed with a nod, brushing the dust off his clothes as he stood back up. “In that case, I will also not commit to either a yes or a no on the matter of my resignation.”

Han Yoojin ground his teeth, staring at Seok Simyeong hatefully. “Lord Seok,” he bit out, forcing his lips into a strained smile. “You. Are a very stubborn man.”

Only the second most stubborn here, Seok Simyeong thought.

Chapter Text

“The coronation date has been set,” Han Yoohyun said, shedding his cloak still travel-worn with dust. “It’s to be held on the last day of the month.”

“It took that long to decide?” Han Yoojin wondered. He was in the middle of straightening the documents he intended to go over with Seok Hayan, but he discarded them to the side to help Yoohyun hang up his cloak. It had only been a short few days, but every time Han Yoohyun left on a patrol or trip these days, he found himself antsy and anxious as if weeks had gone by. Only after passing his hands over the lingering warmth from the cloak did some of his anxiety abate.

Han Yoohyun shrugged. “The council always has useless things to worry about.”

“You’re part of the council,” Han Yoojin pointed out dryly. “Don’t tell me you didn’t participate in the discussion at all.”

“It doesn’t matter to me what color that b… that Duke Seseong wants to paint his carriages,” Han Yoohyun said petulantly.

“They were arguing over the royal colors?” Han Yoojin asked in surprise. It made sense that he wouldn’t want to continue using Choi Sukwon’s family colors, but. “He can’t just use Seseong’s?”

“The council didn’t like the idea of Seseong’s lineage being too tied up with the crown.” Han Yoohyun explained indifferently.

True, the council was made up of the kingdom’s great lords with a title of earl of higher, so they’d be uncomfortable with letting the most influential ducal house and the crown simply merge without a fuss. There wasn’t much to be done about Sung Hyunjae himself, but it seemed like they were targeting his progeny. He’d need at least two, then. One heir to inherit the duchy, and one to inherit the crown. Neither of them were bad prizes, but.

“... The kingdom had better hope that Sung Hyunjae’s heirs will be the understanding sort,” Han Yoojin contemplated aloud. “If they’re not a happy, loving family, that could become a rather bloody feud.”

Han Yoohyun shot him an uncharacteristically unsettled look. “Hyung,” he said, his tone strangely forceful. “Whatever happens with Sung Hyunjae’s heirs has nothing to do with you. Right?”

“Of course not?” Han Yoojin answered blankly. “Should it?”

“No,” Han Yoohyun said firmly. “That’s good.” He sounded satisfied with that answer, so. That was fine… it seemed?

“So, what did they settle on?” Han Yoojin asked. “The royal colors,” he added, when Han Yoohyun gave him a puzzled look.

“Oh. They haven’t yet.” Han Yoohyun said with disinterest.

The council wasn’t due to convene again until after the coronation, so if they hadn’t picked yet, it meant that nothing would be decided until then. That would make planning the coronation rather chaotic. Would they go with Seseong’s colors for the decorations? Well, knowing Sung Hyunjae, he probably found the chaos more entertaining.

“The last day of the month,” Han Yoojin repeated. That was the exact same day that it had been held before the regression… given a difference of a few years. Which meant that, just like last time… “It would be the day after his birthday.”

Han Yoohyun shrugged. “If he really minded, he could change it.”

Well, that was true. Nobody in the kingdom had more power right now than Sung Hyunjae. If he said that he wanted to change his coronation date, it would be a simple matter. It was just…

Every year from now on, even after becoming king, his birthday would always be overshadowed by “the anniversary of the king’s coronation.” Didn’t that seem a little bit lonely?

“Hyung, you shouldn’t feel bad for him,” Han Yoohyun told him earnestly. 

“I don’t feel bad for him,” Han Yoojin refuted. Who would feel bad for Sung Hyunjae? On top of having the whole country in the palm of his hand, he also had a terrible personality. “I bet he picked it just to cause trouble somehow.”

Han Yoohyun beamed. “Exactly, hyung.”

“… Then, would it make more sense to prepare a birthday gift, or a coronation gift?” Han Yoojin pondered. “Or both? Both would be too much, right?”

Han Yoohyun’s face immediately fell into a scowl. “You don’t need to prepare him any gifts, either,” he muttered unhappily. “Just give him a dirty rag. No, he might be happy with that, so don’t give him anything.”

Han Yoojin looked at him helplessly. “Don’t you think your feud with him is getting a little childish? Even if you’re political rivals, sending a gift is just basic courtesy. Don’t tell me, you’re not planning to give anything at all?”

“Seok Simyeong will prepare something.”

If it was Seok Simyeong… he didn’t seem to like Sung Hyunjae much, either, so he would pick something that Sung Hyunjae wouldn’t enjoy, but that was still courteous enough to be inoffensive. Han Yoojin laughed dryly. Even after the regression, that old fox hadn’t changed at all… The memories brought goosebumps to his skin, and he rubbed his arms without thinking.

“Are you cold ?” Han Yoohyun asked.

Han Yoojin shook his head. “No, I was just remembering something unpleasant.” Act normal, he reminded himself. Yoohyun was sharp.

“You’ve been overworking yourself,” Han Yoohyun said with a frown. “And you haven’t been getting enough sleep. There are bags under your eyes.”

Han Yoojin touched under his eyes self-consciously. “It’s not that I’m not getting enough sleep,” he tried to defend himself. “It’s just… hot at night. It’s hard to sleep well.”

“You should spend less time taking care of the monsters. And you don’t have to pay attention to Bak Yerim whenever she bothers you,” Han Yoohyun added as an afterthought.

“I like taking care of the kids,” Han Yoojin objected. They were a handful, but. “They’re so cute, you know? So tiny and cuddly. Ahh, I remember when Peace was that size.” Peace was still small when he wanted to be, of course, but when he’d really been a baby… Those tiny, fluffy ears and soft belly… Han Yoojin sighed wistfully.

“… Fine,” Han Yoohyun said reluctantly. “But if it’s too much, you can leave it to the other hunters to take care of them. They can at least handle feeding the monsters.”

“I know, I know.” But cuteness aside, keeping busy with the baby monsters was one of the few ways he could distract himself here.

Han Yoohyun looked like he wanted to say something else, but after a pause, he exhaled and turned toward the door. “Then, I’m going to go hear Kim Sunghan’s report.”

Before he’d even realized what he was doing, Han Yoojin had already reached out to grab his sleeve.

“Hyung?” Han Yoohyun asked, looking puzzled.

“Oh—” Han Yoojin dropped his hand quickly, coughing to cover his discomposure. “Nothing, it just feels like you’ve been gone a while, so I… anyways, go ahead.”

“Do you want me to stay?” Han Yoohyun asked, expression brightening. “I’ll tell Kim Sunghan to delay—”

“No, no, don’t be silly. What if there’s something important?” Placing his hands on Han Yoohyun’s back, Han Yoojin shoved him firmly in the direction of the door. “Besides, I have that appointment with Seok Hayan soon, too.”

“… Then, make sure you get some rest, hyung,” Han Yoohyun said reluctantly. Throwing Han Yoojin one last, longing look, he left.

With Han Yoohyun’s departure, Han Yoojin took a deep breath and stuffed the documents he’d organized into an envelope before scurrying out of the study. If he was too slow, no doubt Seok Simyeong would get word that he was alone and come to pester him again. Never in a thousand years could he have guessed that Seok Simyeong would somehow be even more annoying when he thought positively of him than when he’d simply considered Han Yoojin an eyesore.

His hands clenched and unclenched as he hurried through the fortress halls. Compared to the Seok Simyeong of five years in the future, the current version of him was nothing more than a tame rabbit. And the scathing denigrations that had come out of his pen in the span of those five years—the vitriol tossed at him that had turned Han Yoojin into an object for disgust and humiliation, not just within aristocratic society, but even the kingdom’s everyday citizens—had vanished like smoke, a terrible dream that only he could recall.

It felt ridiculous. He let out a dry laugh. All that time worrying about whether he’d be able to withstand the aura of an elite without his skills, when in the end, what threatened to undo him was merely his own nightmares.

He took another slow breath to drive the thoughts away from his mind as he entered the parlor where he’d arranged to meet with Seok Hayan. It was soothing, at least, to speak with people he’d never interacted with in that other time, like a refreshing splash of water on his face. Uncomplicated.

“Lady Seok Hayan,” he greeted politely.

She waved his greeting away. “Oh, please, there’s no room for such formalities in the pursuit of learning,” she said excitedly. “Tell me everything you know. Where did you find these?” Taking the papers out of the envelope he’d addressed to her, she smoothed out the paper almost reverently. “Oh, I can’t believe it, I’ve never seen a rune of this particular style before. It’s very contemporary, as far as they go. More recent than proto-Classical, I believe.”

“Style?” Han Yoojin echoed blankly. He knew a great deal about runes, but that was mostly in regards to their applications. He wasn’t a scholar, so he had never bothered to look too much into their theoretical side.

Speaking of which, that guy, Sung Hyunjae, would he enjoy something like one of those dense academic treatises? If it was anything less esoteric, he would probably already know most of the contents and find it boring, but if it was totally useless knowledge, then he likely wouldn’t find it interesting, either… Maybe not a book, then. Unless the point was to put him to sleep on purpose.

“Well, you know that we hypothesize that runes were the written language of the ancients, right? So we study and categorize them much like any other field of linguistics. Even runes that represent the same concept can look different. Take one of the examples you showed me, for example.” She pointed to the paper in her hand. “It’s very similar to a common sigil that means, ‘to grow, to nurture.’ You’ve probably seen it often—that one gets used in a lot of agricultural applications and such. But the rune you have looks like a purer linguistic root that shares an origin with a different word, ‘to change.’”

Perhaps because she’d gotten onto a topic that she was passionate about, Seok Hayan’s gesturing became even more animated.

“Actually, because we’ve only been able to piece together most of these words from bits and pieces, it’s hard to tell whether we’ve introduced modern errors into many of these characters—similar to when words become misspelled or mispronounced so commonly that they become the new norm. In fact…” She paused. “Ah, this must all be rather elementary to you, pardon me. I’ve gotten used to explaining all of this during dinner conversations.”

Han Yoojin, whose attention had indeed been wandering, coughed, embarrassed. “No, not at all,” he said quickly. “A lot of it was new to me. Actually, I wondered if that was a spelling error, at first, but I copied it exactly as I saw it.”

“As you saw it?” Seok Hayan perked up again. “So, as I thought, you found it in a ruins? Where? What kind?”

“A few days’ ride beyond the Wall. Close to where Haeyeon borders Seseong.”

“Hm? Hmm… Ah, I see! I wonder, I wonder…” Seok Hayan began mumbling something to herself, scribbling furiously in a notebook in her hands.

Would Sung Hyunjae use something like that? … No, forget about it. Forget if Sung Hyunjae took notes, he couldn’t even say if that guy had ever attended a meeting. Surely, he must, since he was responsible for Seseong’s administration, and now the entire kingdom’s, but…

Actually, Han Yoojin thought, there was no need to think so small when it came to presents, right? With the three duchies footing the bill for the new facility, that meant that all of the spoils from the Auction were free to use as his personal funds. In terms of net worth, wasn’t he actually pretty rich right now? Plus, since they’d already contacted some craftsmen to negotiate the production of materials and furnishings and such for the new facility, it wouldn’t be difficult to add in something extra as part of the bulk order…

Seok Hayan had finished her furious scribbling, so Han Yoojin shook his head to clear his thoughts and turn his attention back to the matter at hand.

“That’s exactly what I wanted to speak with you about,” he told her. “I heard you’ve been looking to travel outside of the Kingdom to continue your research.”

“I don’t know how you heard that, but it’s indeed true,” she admitted. “Although more ruins do tend to appear in the Kingdom than elsewhere, I’ve just about exhausted the material that I can find here. Rune studies haven’t been done as extensively in the Republic and the Empire, so many of the discoveries there remain unstudied.”

“That’s true,” Han Yoojin said, “but gathering runes from other countries is something that you can have assistants do. At this point, they’re almost all recorded in books or on paper. But what if more and more undiscovered runes began appearing in the Kingdom? It would be most advantageous if you’re present as they’re being analyzed.”

“Oh?” Seok Hayan leaned forward, her eyes glittering. “Do you have reason to believe that will happen?”

Because he had seen it, after all. But that wasn’t something he could say.

“The rate of ruins appearing has been increasing decade over decade,” Han Yoojin stated. “The past two years alone, there’s been as many discovered as the last decade combined. And this year, three of them contained writings that, after deciphering, contained runes with useful practical applications.”

Seok Hayan tapped her chin thoughtfully. “You’re saying that it’s not coincidence, but a lasting trend?”

Han Yoojin nodded. “If the trend continues, next month alone, there’ll likely be two within the kingdom’s raiding perimeters.” One in Breaker, one in Haeyeon. Though he didn’t say that part.

“I see…” Seok Hayan nodded. “Perhaps I’ve been too shortsighted in my considerations. It would be much more advantageous to decipher the runes myself than to look at someone else’s copies.” She stood up excitedly, grabbing Han Yoojin’s hand and shaking it vigorously. “Very well! Let’s see if this theory of yours holds true.”

The sending of personally addressed invitations was a practice that only some aristocrats chose to uphold for their succession ceremonies, but for the king’s coronation, it was practically indispensable. It was a way to subtly draw the lines between factions, whether it was the offering of an olive branch or the throwing of a gauntlet. The king-to-be’s inner circle might receive invitation cards addressed to “my most trusted advisor” or “my stalwart shield” and the like, while his enemies might receive a jab hinting at a recent slight. Of course, there were layers upon layers of politicking that came into play when choosing the wording for each address, but—that was for players who were far more mired in the bottomless game of court intrigue.

Han Yoojin did not think he counted among that number. It wasn’t like he was sitting as a neutral bystander between warring factions, or that his political intentions and affiliations were unclear. Politically, financially, socially—his position as one of Sung Hyunjae’s allies had been drawn in the sand with every line that it was possible to draw with. So, surely, it shouldn’t have been difficult to slap some random address on a card and mail it to him. Whether it was “my investment” or “my Honey” or any of the other five billion bits of nonsense that Sung Hyunjae seemed to have on hand at any given time.

Even Yoohyun had gotten his invitation already. Though, he’d burned it as soon as he’d opened it.

“How will you get into the coronation ceremony without the invitation…?” Han Yoojin asked, speechless, as he watched the card burst into flames right in Han Yoohyun’s hand.

“The guards know my face,” Han Yoohyun said impassively. Well, alright, fine. The world of big-shots was different like that.

“What did it say, anyways?” Han Yoojin asked curiously. But instead of answering, Han Yoohyun only glowered at the scattering ashes as if he could will them to burn a second time.

“Psst,” Bak Yerim whispered, poking Han Yoojin on the shoulder. “Do you want to see mine, ahjussi?”

“Huh? You got one already, too, Yerim?” Han Yoojin said in surprise. Yoohyun wasn’t just an elite, but a fellow duke, after all, so it would make sense if his had come early. But Yerim was only a newbie, and a commoner besides.

“Yeah, see?” She showed him her card. It was addressed, in Sung Hyunjae’s graceful scrawl, ‘To hunter Bak Yerim, whom I regard as my own dear younger sister.’

“... That’s unexpectedly sentimental, for that guy.”

Bak Yerim leaned in close to his ear and whispered conspiratorially, “I saw the boss’, too. It’s the same as mine.”

What, so it was the fraternal bond between fellow elites, or something like that? In the end, even that guy cared about things like rank more than he let on, Han Yoojin thought, a little sourly. But then again, it was true that he had no idea what it was like to stand at the top like that, so glaringly set apart from all the rest. Even Sung Hyunjae probably appreciated company there from time to time.

“... Oh,” Han Yoojin managed. “Congratulations, Yerim. It means you’ve been doing really well, to be recognized like that.”

Bak Yerim squinted at him for a few moments, looking hesitant. “Your invitation will have something much better on it,” she tried to console him. “I bet it’s only missing because he can’t figure out what to write. Or, maybe it fell out of the mail carriage.”

Get a grip, Han Yoojin scolded himself. To think that he was being so obvious that he was making Yerim worry over him.

“I don’t need it, anyways,” he told her. “If I wanted to see Sung Hyunjae being annoying while a crowd fawns over him, I could just go to Seseong any time.”

Bak Yerim bit her lip, her eyes still scanning his face. “Ahjussi…”

“There’s the kids to think about, too,” he added. “A trip to the capital and back, along with the coronation itself… that’s at least three days. You know how restless Blue gets if no one plays with her. And the unicorns get skittish around strangers. Oh, come to think of it—” He clapped his hands together loudly. “I planned to go see Yoo Meongwoo today. Make sure you write a proper thank you in response, Yerim. If you don’t know how, ask Yoohy… Actually, ask Kim Hayeon.”

“... Got it,” Bak Yerim said glumly.

“Then, I’ll be back before dinner. And I won’t forget to take Kim Sunghan with me,” he added, seeing Han Yoohyun open his mouth.

As he left, he heard Bak Yerim and Han Yoohyun whisper furiously—or rather, Bak Yerim whispered furiously, while Han Yoohyun occasionally responded in low, curt mutters. But whatever they were conversing about so secretively was lost to him. He didn’t have freakishly sharp elite-rank hearing, after all.

Having to sit in a carriage next to Kim Sunghan whenever he wanted to leave the fortress was another one of those things that kept his nerves on edge these days. 

But with Bak Yerim officially able to join patrols now, it had become increasingly difficult to justify holding back an elite-rank hunter just to play babysitter for him. Or rather, Bak Yerim and Han Yoohyun had been all too eager for it, but it made no practical sense. Bak Yerim would be infinitely more valuable as a hunter with practical experience under her belt. Keeping a high-rank hunter like Kim Sunghan away from patrols was still difficult to justify, but Han Yoohyun had refused to settle for anything less.

So that left them here—‘here’ being the tight, narrow space inside the carriage. It wasn’t that Haeyeon’s carriages were small, but with Kim Sunghan’s massive build, they’d be hard-pressed to find a carriage that didn’t feel cramped sitting next to him. With Kim Sunghan’s spade-like hands mere inches from him, Han Yoojin tried not to dwell on how many times those very hands had thrown him out of Haeyeon’s gates. Not that Kim Sunghan would remember any of that.

“Are you cold, sir?” Kim Sunghan asked seriously, and for a moment, Han Yoojin was struck by déjà vu.

“In this summer heat?” He asked, laughing off the question.

Here was another one where having him on your side was somehow worse. Well, no, that was an exaggeration, but Kim Sunghan’s obvious initial dislike and distasteful reticence toward him had at least been… familiar. Being fussed over like Han Yoojin was a frail old man three times his age, less so.

“I’ll just be inside Yoo Meongwoo’s workshop, so you can stay at the door,” Han Yoojin told him as the carriage pulled to a stop.

Yoo Meongwoo’s workshop looked just like any old blacksmith’s forge in a little town. It had actually belonged to the old man who’d taken him in as an apprentice at Han Yoojin’s insistence a few months prior, despite the old man’s impending retirement. Apparently, Yoo Meongwoo still used it sometimes for lower-tier crafting. Something about not forgetting the basics, he said.

Originally, this had been a sleepy little town, but with Yoo Meongwoo’s newfound fame, it and the neighboring villages were all swarming with travelers hoping to get an audience with him. Han Yoojin suspected the place would be packed even on the best of days, and now, with Haeyeon’s crest displayed proudly on their carriage, a crowd had already begun to gather around to peek at what was going on. In the now-distant past, crowds had almost always been a poor portent for him, but right now, they were just harmless observers. He ignored the furious pounding of his heart and knocked on the door.

Ah, really. Would it be so bad to turn on his fear resistance again? Just for a little?

Luckily, the door opened almost immediately. “You’re here,” Yoo Meongwoo greeted with a smile, wiping his hands on the apron around his waist. “Here, try some of these.”

He held out a plate of assorted dried fruit and jerky. Han Yoojin picked up one of the fruit pieces and put it in his mouth. Despite being dried, it was somehow still plump and succulent, with a hint of spice.

“Do you like it?” Yoo Meongwoo asked, to which Han Yoojin nodded vigorously. This talented guy, even if he said he planned to quit smithing and open a restaurant, he’d probably still be insanely successful. “That’s good. Then, here, these are for you.”

Picking up a few small sacks, he offered them to Han Yoojin.

“I can’t take your food,” Han Yoojin protested. “I’m already here to ask for your help.”

“I made these for you in the first place,” Yoo Meongwoo insisted. “I heard you’ve been skipping meals since you’re outside tending to the baby monsters so often. These will be more convenient to eat.”

“… Then, thank you,” Han Yoojin said, taking the sacks and stuffing them into his waist pouch.

“If you eat your meals regularly, that would be the best thanks,” Yoo Meongwoo told him.

… Was it his imagination, or did that sound a little accusatory? Yoo Meongwoo, stop picking up bad habits from the kids.

Han Yoojin cleared his throat. “The reason I came,” he said. “When you’re in the Forge, does the aura from things inside leak out? Mana stones, for example.”

Yoo Meongwoo shook his head. “It’s a sealed off dimension. I’m told it’s similar to a ruins.”

“Then, let’s go inside to speak. The thing I’m about to show you is a bit troublesome.”

With a nod, Yoo Meongwoo placed a hand on his shoulder. A blink, and they were inside. Just like last time, it was a surprisingly cozy place, carved out of some kind of enigmatic wood that didn’t burn, with a great fire blazing at its heart. Unlike last time, though, Han Yoojin could distinctly feel the pressure coming from the fire, as well as the various mana stones of intense and vibrant hue scattered across the workstations. Well, he was only a lowest-rank hunter, after all. Even a mid-tier beast’s stone had an effect on him.

Yoo Meongwoo, on the other hand, looked perfectly at home handling the stones and stoking the fire, perhaps as a result of having worked with them day in and day out for so long. Han Yoojin eyed the rigid bulk of his upper arms with only a little bit of envy… Even though they’d started out at the same place, talent was talent, he supposed. It wasn’t like playing with the kids wasn’t plenty exhausting as well, but clearly, whatever he was doing couldn’t match up to Yoo Meongwoo’s method.

“This is what I wanted to ask about,” he said, pulling out the box that housed the Queen of the Sea. “It seems like a really powerful mana stone of some kind, but I haven’t been able to take a closer look at it. If I open the box without being careful, it would probably attract a lot of monsters.” Forget Breaker, even Seseong was still recovering from the aftermath of the monster swarm caused by the Auction.

Yoo Meongwoo took the jewel and turned it in his hands, scrutinizing it. He picked up a small magnifying glass from somewhere and held it up as well, the refracted light from the small stone bouncing enchantingly off the walls. It really was a beautiful gem, the core of the small stone appearing to hold the same deep blue as the ocean, while the shine of its surface sparkled like waves. Now that he was inspecting it closely, he could also see a single rune engraved on its surface, resembling a sigil that was fairly common in other applications. Water.

“It’s not a mana stone,” Yoo Meongwoo said finally, putting down the gem. “Not in the traditional sense, at least. It’s certainly condensed mana, but it doesn’t come from a creature—it was probably created this way.”

Han Yoojin contemplated his words. “Meaning, it’s an artifact?”

“It’s more like a potion. A single-use consumable. The power trapped inside is very strong, but the vessel itself is fragile. When you have a mismatch like that, the vessel tends to break upon use.”

“Then, why not pick a more durable vessel to start with?” Han Yoojin grumbled. “It’s such a pity that it can only be used once.”

“It’s not just durability that has to be considered,” Yoo Meongwoo explained patiently. “The properties of the material also have to be suitable. The power of water—it’s mercurial by nature and doesn’t like to be contained. Most metal and stone would crumble or rust under so much of it. Wood might have an easier time trapping it, but it would also diminish its properties.”

“... In other words, you’re saying it’s actually a very impressive piece of craftsmanship.” Han Yoojin sighed. Well, that much was obvious just from looking at the intricate work on the gem. “I suppose that means I’ll have to be careful about using it.”

Yoo Meongwoo watched him place the gem back in its box. “Is that all you needed help with?” He asked. “I thought you were going to ask for an artifact.”

“I don’t really need anything, though.”

“Think harder,” Yoo Meongwoo persisted. “Even if I can’t make it right away, I can look into it. Things that would be difficult to find or buy somewhere else.”

Han Yoojin’s forehead wrinkled in thought. “Then…” He hesitated. “Something to store mana… maybe?” Asking Sung Hyunjae to come over every time he needed to use a skill simply wasn’t sustainable.

Yoo Meongwoo tilted his head. “Different from a mana crystal?”

“Mana crystals don’t work… perhaps because they’re dead.” After weeks of pondering, that was the only conclusion he’d been able to reach. “I think that maybe it has to be… living mana.”

“Living mana… I see. I wonder.” Yoo Meongwoo rubbed his chin pensively.

“It’s fine if it’s not possible,” Han Yoojin added. “It was just a thought.”

“No, no, I have some ideas. After seeing your gem…” Yoo Meongwoo started rummaging through his materials, already lost in thought.

As Han Yoojin watched, another idea struck him. “Actually,” he ventured. “Uh, I’m not asking you to make this one, but—can you think of anything Sung Hyunjae might want? Unique artifacts, and so on.”

Yoo Meongwoo paused and looked up. “The duke of Seseong? I was also thinking about it, but—he seems like he would be able to buy anything he wanted.”

Han Yoojin nodded dispiritedly. That was the problem.

“… So I just ended up making some random items.”

Han Yoojin blinked. “Are you getting him a birthday present, too?”

“Birthday?” Yoo Meongwoo asked in surprise. “Is it his birthday soon? No, it’s for the coronation. Since…” He fished out a card from underneath a pile of leather scraps.

To the esteemed craftsman Yoo Meongwoo, trusted pillar of my heart.

“…You’ve gotten an invitation already, too?” Han Yoojin asked, unable to keep the tartness from his voice.

His tone must have given Yoo Meongwoo pause. “You haven’t yet?”

Han Yoojin pressed his lips together, his silence speaking for itself.

“Oh,” Yoo Meongwoo said awkwardly. “Yours must be coming separately, then. It would make sense that you would receive a more special one. Since you’re, you know… close.”

Did it count as being close? Sung Hyunjae and Yoo Meongwoo barely knew each other, and he had already started with this “my heart” stuff.

“I don’t have any business being there, anyways,” Han Yoojin said. “It would be full of people whose faces I don’t want to see. I’ll just think of it as my day off, my day off. That annoying Seok Simyeong will be gone, for one. Ahh, I can imagine the peacefulness already.”

Yoo Meongwoo scratched his head. “If it comes down to it, you could come as my escort, too.” he offered. “Though the young master would probably be more suitable for that.”

“Yoohyun would be better off finding someone nice to take with him,” Han Yoojin grumbled. “If he tries to bring his old hyung, I’ll really have to talk some sense into him.” He sighed, stretching his arms. “Anyways, it’ll be nice to have a quiet day in the fortress. Really.”

Yoo Meongwoo nodded slowly, though the expression on his face looked unconvinced. “Then, I’ll start doing some research on your request. And don’t forget to get some rest.”

“... I will. I mean, I won’t.” Han Yoojin said crossly.

Why was everybody like this? Not even his own mother had been so fussy.

Despite the passage of another week, the invitation still hadn’t arrived, but Seok Simyeong did.

“It’s here!” He said gleefully, not bothering to conceal the stomp of his footsteps as he approached from the hallway. “All the papers are in order. The territorial arbitrations, the title of Earl of Crescent Valley, the approval of the crown—provisional, of course, until the coronation takes place. All that’s left is your signature, and the conferment ceremony—” When he pushed open the door to Han Yoojin’s study, he paused.

In the corner, unseen, Han Yoojin held his breath, fingers gripping the stealth bracelet around his wrist. In his other hand was a large bottle, the presence of which would have definitely been suspicious on his desk.

“Huh,” Seok Simyeong said, sounding puzzled. “I was told he was here, though.” After another glance around the room, he sighed, leaving the documents in his hand on the desk.

Only after Seok Simyeong’s footsteps had faded away did Han Yoojin dare to exhale again. It wasn’t a permanent solution, he knew. Yoohyun had learned better than to keep pestering him about the title at every opportunity, but Seok Simyeong, that old fox, had skin thicker than the fortress walls. Han Yoohyun flipped through the documents he’d left behind, half out of curiosity, half out of disgust.

It would be a fantastic twist of irony, he thought bitterly, if, after all the urging of the most powerful players in the kingdom, he accepted the title and immediately ended up throwing the region into chaos. At the very least, he would be able to look at Seok Simyeong and say, See? I couldn’t do it. I told you so. Just because time had been rewound, and he knew a few things about the future, it didn’t mean that the core of who he was had changed.

In fact, the more he flipped, the more annoyed he became. The document was at least thirty pages long, covering a land survey of the new territory, census and economic reports, and a written justification for the new title. The early pages were in Han Yoohyun’s writing, but the bulk of the statistics and reports appeared to be Seok Simyeong’s zealous hand. Sung Hyunjae hadn’t written any of it, of course, but his signature was at the end of every section, along with the occasional note in his handwriting scribbled in the margins.

If shredding documents bearing the royal seal wasn’t considered an act of lèse-majesté, Han Yoojin would have been sorely tempted. Not that he hadn’t committed worse. But if Sung Hyunjae had apparently had the leisure to review this dense and lengthy report, then surely he should have had the time to slap a few quick words onto a card?

It wasn’t like Han Yoojin even wanted to go to the coronation that badly. He held no love for the pomp and circumstance of aristocratic high society, and aristocratic society certainly held no love for him. But, that should have been his choice, surely? With all that Sung Hyunjae liked to spout nonsense about “my dear” this or that… If he was going to pay lip service in such a manner, then he should at least see his lines through. What was with half-assedly abandoning his act halfway?

Right, this was all Sung Hyunjae’s fault, Han Yoojin decided, running his fingers over the slim neck of the bottle in his hands. He wouldn’t feel better until he’d landed at least one good punch on that obnoxious, perfect face. Maybe two punches. And a slap. And after that… Well, he would play it by ear. If he was still irritated, he could always just set fire to that bastard’s house.

Having made up his mind, he shoved the glass bottle into his waist pouch and pulled out a piece of paper, scribbling down a note to Han Yoohyun.

Hyung is going on a trip for a few days. Don’t look for me.

If he told Yoohyun, his brother would definitely make him bring Kim Sunghan, so that wouldn’t do. He jotted down some more notes on having the hunters play with the baby monsters properly, then finished with instructions on what to do with the shipment he was expecting soon.

Once he was satisfied that his notes were thorough, he double-checked that the supplies in his waist pouch were stocked and that his stealth bracelet was in place, then slipped silently out of the study.

Sung Hyunjae, he thought viciously. You’d better hold out your cheek and wait quietly.

Chapter Text

The trip to Seseong would take about three days if he rode continuously through the day. At that pace, he should arrive two days before the coronation. There was the option of using the teleport circle, of course, but he would have to request Seseong’s approval to use it. It would be like saying, “I’m on my way to deliver you a beating, would you please pick me up~?” Anyways, it felt undignified, so Han Yoojin dismissed that option.

With both Han Yoohyun and Bak Yerim gone on patrol with the majority of the high-rank hunters, sneaking out of the fortress using the bracelet wasn’t too difficult a task. Only Peace noticed him as he crossed the fortress grounds, whining plaintively at him.

“Shh, Peace,” Han Yoojin whispered, briefly deactivating the bracelet to pet the orange cat soothingly. “Stay here and be good, okay? Dad will be back soon.”

It would cut the journey time significantly to ride on Peace, but it would also be much more conspicuous. After all, there weren’t that many flaming orange cats running around the countryside. In the end, he decided against it.

The first day’s ride went fairly smoothly, and he only had to pause briefly throughout the day to change horses and take small rest breaks. Yoo Meongwoo’s snacks served as excellent rations for the road, though he whispered a quiet apology for not using them as intended. By the end of the day, he had made it just past Haeyeon’s southern border. He had a sneaking feeling that Han Yoohyun would catch him if he took the main roads, so he opted for a detour that would put him in Brix for less than a day’s ride before he finally crossed into Seseong.

As evening encroached, he toyed with the idea of simply riding through the night, but although the approaching autumn weather was warm enough that staying outdoors during the night wasn’t a problem, trying to make a three day journey without enough sleep was still rather risky. Unlike an elite, he needed a full night’s rest, after all. Begrudgingly, he stopped at a small town that he was fairly familiar with, having visited it often in the past when sneaking back into Haeyeon during the term of his exile.

The town had only a single inn, but he remembered it as being one of the more reputable ones, with a clean interior and fair prices. After flagging down a stablehand to take his horse, he walked inside.

Unsurprisingly, it was already bustling. With the coronation on the horizon, plenty of nobles and commoners alike were trickling into the capital. Though only those with invitations would be able to attend the ceremony inside the palace, anyone could line up on the streets to try to get a peek at the procession afterwards. Thus, the inn was packed with faces young and old, rich and poor, some merely resting, while others dined and drank.

At one of the far tables in a corner sat a group of travelers, too finely dressed to be mercenaries, but armed to the teeth. One of them looked up as Han Yoojin came in. His face looked vaguely familiar, though Han Yoojin couldn’t place the memory. Either way, the traveler soon looked back down, and Han Yoojin put the thought out of his mind as he made his way to the innkeeper.

“One room, please.”

The innkeeper glanced at him and nodded. “Will you want a meal as well?” He asked, gesturing to the tables.

Han Yoojin shook his head. “Just the room.”

With another nod, the innkeeper accepted his silver and handed him a key. Key in hand, he went up the stairs, the din and clamor of the lower level fading away to a muted hum.

It was only after his surroundings had gone mostly quiet that he noticed the sound of another set of footsteps behind him. At first, he thought little of it, but the more turns he made through the inn’s narrow hallways, the odder it became. Frowning, he halted his steps and turned around—

Only to immediately get slammed into the wall behind him. His head was still spinning when a rough hand quickly covered his mouth, preventing him from shouting.

“Hurry,” a low voice urged. “We’ve got to get him out of here before someone notices.”

Squinting, Han Yoojin could make out that his attacker was one of the group of travelers he’d noticed earlier, but little else. With his head and shoulder pressed against the wall, he didn’t have much freedom to move, but he kicked out violently, trying to do as much damage as he could, either to stall for time or to attract enough attention to foil their plan.

“Damn it—” A second voice grunted as his foot made contact, swearing profusely. “You said this guy was lowest-rank!”

“He is. Stop being a baby. Give me that.”

The hand over his mouth was pulled away, and he took a deep breath, ready to scream. But before he could get any sound out, a thick piece of fabric was pressed over his nose and mouth, and he ended up with a lungful of some strange, sharp odor. By the time he realized what it was, it was too late, as his consciousness slowly slipped away.

Han Yoojin woke to a splash of cold water over his head. It smelled vaguely of river and silt.

“Awake yet?” The voice from earlier asked, sounding annoyed. “Do you plan to sleep the whole trip away like some kind of pampered princess?”

His limbs still felt heavy as lead, and it felt like his hands had been tied to the back of the chair he was sitting in. He cracked open an eye to try to look around. The room was dark and mostly empty, probably some kind of warehouse. Lengths of rope and netting were tossed in the corner, along with some folded up canvas and a few haphazardly stacked crates. Combined with the quiet sound of waves in the distance, he had a sinking feeling that he knew roughly where they were.

There were no rivers or ports in Brix. They must have traveled further south while he was unconscious, crossing all the way into Seseong. It did put him closer to his destination, but all that was for nothing if he got shipped off on some boat before he could escape.

“Who are you?” He rasped, his voice coming out as a croak. “What do you want?” The best case would be that they had struck randomly, looking for a simple ransom. Though he’d never hear the end of it from the kids if that was the case.

The question seemed to provoke his abductor, who sank his fingers into Han Yoojin’s hair and yanked harshly, pulling his head up. “You don’t remember me?” His abductor asked in a low voice. “If I decorate your face with a little bruise, would that jog your memory?”

Han Yoojin narrowed his eyes, looking the man up and down. Finally, the answer came to him. Seo Minseong, prodigal third son of the baron of Brix.

“Oh,” he laughed dryly. “I didn’t recognize you without that black eye. Looks like you’ve been doing well for yourself… on your father’s coin.”

A harsh slap landed on his cheek, the pain blooming into a low burn across his face.

“Not even a good thrashing can fix that mouth of yours, I see,” Seo Minseong said coldly.

“Have I said anything incorrect?” Right, he remembered this argument now—ending on the floor of a tavern in some random town with a flourishing black eye on Seo Minseong’s face. Embarrassing, when the man was a mid-rank hunter. It had already been five years for Han Yoojin, but only a few months for Seo Minseong. “It’s true, after all. You don’t even measure up to Han Yoohyun’s feet.”

Another thunderous slap struck his other cheek, knocking a muffled grunt out of him.

“You think you’re still heir to a duchy? Young. Lord. Han. Yoojin,” Seo Minseong enunciated mockingly. “I heard your brother finally deigned to take you crawling back now that you’ve made some use of yourself.”

Han Yoojin licked his dry, cracked lips, wincing as he tasted blood. “Better late than never, young master, isn’t that right? How’s inheriting the title going for you… oh, wait, that would be your older sister.” Seeing Seo Minseong raise his hand again, he quickly added, “What, is slapping all you know how to do? Or are you so scared of a lowest-rank hunter that you have to keep me tied up? Let me go, and we can have a good rematch.”

He wouldn’t actually fight, of course. The minute he was free, he’d use the stealth bracelet and…

Halfway through his thought, Han Yoojin froze. No matter how he groped at his wrists, his fingers didn’t encounter the slim metal of the bracelet. They’d taken it.

A quick glance confirmed that the pouch at his waist was also gone, and he’d be willing to bet that his earrings were, too. So he didn’t have any weapons, and he wouldn’t be able to contact Sung Hyunjae to give him an estimate on his position. Fantastic.

“A rematch?” Seo Minseong sneered. “You think I want a rematch with a weakling who only knows how to use cheap tricks?”

Suddenly, Seo Minseong pushed his chair roughly, and it fell against the cold dirt floor, taking Han Yoojin with it. His head rattled against the ground, knocking a pained groan out of him. Before he could recover, Seo Minseong was crouched over him, hauling him up by the collar, and the ropes around his wrists dug into his skin as the weight of the chair pulled them down.

“You know what your problem is?” Seo Minseong spat. “You don’t know your place. A trash-tier hunter, trying to be heir. ”

Han Yoojin coughed weakly. “It’s not like I… was born first on purpose.”

“But crawling back to Haeyeon every chance you get?” Seo Minseoung let go of his collar, and the back of the chair once more slammed into the ground. “Your brother should have tossed you back out into the dirt like the worm you are. And now I hear you’re crawling around Seseong, too?” He aimed a sharp kick at the chair this time, Han Yoojin’s body scraping against the ground as the chair slid backwards from the force. “What’d you have to do to get his attention, shake that worthless ass of yours?”

Han Yoojin laughed hoarsely, barely a trickle of air whistling out of his throat. “If you’re so curious… then, you try it, too.”

“Shut your mouth!” Another vicious kick rattled his bones. Closing in with a few heavy steps, Seo Minseong’s hand wrapped around his ankle.

“I guess you’re just too stupid to learn. Since you’re so good at crawling around like a worm—”

The pressure on his ankle increased second by second, until it felt like permanent indents had been dug into his skin. Han Yoojin let out a ragged cry as it quickly became a sharp pain that radiated through his leg.

“—then crawl.”

Han Yoojin’s face turned white as a sheet. “No,” he whispered. “No, no, no, no. Don’t—!”

Then, he heard a snap , and Han Yoojin screamed in overwhelming agony. Pain overloaded every one of his senses, all of his rational thought, until he was reduced to gasping and whimpering on the cold, dirt floor.

“That suits you better,” Seo Minseong jeered. “Remember that lesson on your way to the Isles.”

It looked like he wanted to say something more, but a call from outside the warehouse interrupted him. “Boss!” Someone shouted. “A message from the—the contacts.”

With a click of his tongue, Seo Minseong threw a glance at Han Yoojin. “Don’t move,” he ordered, then walked out of the room.

Gulping down large, desperate breaths, Han Yoojin clung to the few, scattered words that had managed to pierce the haze of agony clouding his mind. The Isles. They were going to sell him. Within the Kingdom, there was still hope of fleeing, but it would be infinitely more difficult in foreign waters. If he was going to escape, it had to be now.

Biting his lower lip until it bled, he managed to center himself enough to take a close look at his surroundings. To his relief, he found his discarded belongings nearby, on top of an overturned crate. 

Experimentally, he tested the ropes around his wrists. Seo Minseong, that useless idiot, hadn’t even tied them properly, and one side was loose enough that he was able to wiggle one hand through with enough yanking and pulling, though it felt like it’d nearly dislocated his thumb in the process. With his free hand, he fumbled at the other side, but the knots were unfortunately still secure, and without being able to see, untying it would take time that he didn’t have.

Slowly, painfully, he began the process of dragging himself across the ground using his one good leg as leverage. His cheek was already starting to sting as each rock and pebble dug into his skin, the dirt making a permanent home in his now probably ruined clothes. Finally, he reached the crate, fumbling with his free hand until he managed to hook the strap of the waist pouch and pull it towards him.

The pouch fell open onto the ground, though enchanted as it was, none of its contents spilled out. Digging through the pouch, he found the plain knife that he kept inside, then cut his other hand free.

Now came the difficult part. Even with the stealth bracelet, he didn’t have the confidence to run or sneak away from three or more mid-rank hunters who were all searching for him in such close proximity. If he wanted to get out of here, he’d have to distract—or incapacitate—them for long enough to get clear of the warehouse and the immediate area, preferably on top of a mount.

His fingers closed around a healing potion, then hesitated. As a mid-rank hunter, even in the darkness, Seo Minseong’s vision wouldn’t be that poor. It would be obvious if his scrapes and bruises and broken leg suddenly disappeared. Regretfully, he forced himself to let go of the potion and put back the bag as it had been on top of the crate. Then, limping slowly, he maneuvered the chair away from the crate and toward the exit, as if he’d been mindlessly trying to flee. Laying back onto the floor, he positioned his body into a sitting position and gripped the back of the chair as if he were still tied to it, keeping the knife hidden securely against the wooden frame.

None too soon, the sound of Seo Minseong’s footsteps returned.

“Trying to run?” He scoffed, peering down at Han Yoojin. “Look at how filthy you are. It suits you.” He sounded in significantly better humor than he had been earlier.

“Are you planning… to sell me to the Isles?” Han Yoojin croaked.

“So you were listening, were you? Dirty rat. That’s right. They’ll be here to pick up their cargo any minute now, and it’ll be like you were never here,” Seo Minseong said cheerfully.

“Breaker and… Seseong have already put down… a significant investment,” Han Yoojin squeezed out. “They won’t be happy… if I disappear.”

“They can be as unhappy as they like. Who’s to say it has anything to do with me?” Seo Minseong let loose another kick, this time at Han Yoojin’s side, and Han Yoojin had to bite back a string of curses.

“Don’t break… your merchandise,” he reminded tartly.

“It’s nothing a potion can’t fix,” Seo Minseong scoffed. “Don’t worry, when you’re close to kicking it, we’ll patch you up good as new.”

Useless bastard. This was why he couldn’t cut it as a mercenary even as a mid-rank hunter.

“Wait—!” Han Yoojin shouted as Seo Minseong raised his foot for another stomp. Closing his eyes, he inhaled a deep, shaky breath. “Please don’t… let them take me,” he said faintly. “I’ll do anything.”

Seo Minseong looked at him with contempt. “Yeah? Anything?” He chuckled darkly. “That’s all it took for you to break? Trash is trash, in the end.”

Then let me break your legs, too, Han Yoojin thought savagely. Let’s see if you cry again.

“I—I know something,” he added quickly. “A secret. A weakness. Duke Seseong’s.”

“A secret?” Interest gleamed in Seo Minseong’s eye. “So that’s how—No wonder someone like you could have his attention.”

Han Yoojin nodded rapidly. “I’ll tell—I’ll tell you. If you promise… not to sell me.”

“... Sure.” The corner of Seo Minseong’s mouth curled mockingly. “I promise.”

“Then…” Han Yoojin bit his lip, his eyelids fluttering nervously as he lowered his voice. “... But, if he finds out I told you… he’ll kill me.”

Seo Minseong bent down and grabbed his collar again, shaking it fiercely. “You should worry more about what I’ll do if you make me impatient.”

“Okay, okay. Stop—stop shaking,” Han Yoojin said dizzily, nearly biting his tongue on accident.

When the erratic movement finally stopped, he closed his eyes and took another deep breath until the room stopped spinning.

“Fine,” he said, dropping to barely a whisper. “I’ll tell you.”

As his words grew gradually quieter, Seo Minseong also continued to lean closer, until his ear was nearly level with Han Yoojin’s face.

“Sung Hyunjae…” He began, then paused.

He wasn’t fast, or strong, so he only had one chance.

“... doesn’t like bread crusts.”

Seo Minseong’s brow furrowed in reflexive confusion for a split second as he tried to make sense of the words, but Han Yoojin didn’t wait for him to figure it out. With every last bit of strength left in him, he reached up and drove the knife in his hand through Seo Minseong’s throat.

“You—” Seo Minseong’s eyes widened, the rest of his shout turning into incoherent gurgling as blood bubbled around the wound and spurted from his neck, forming dark splatters in the dirt.

“I told you that you didn’t measure up to Han Yoohyun’s feet,” Han Yoojin exhaled.

Seo Minseong’s expression contorted into pure rage, and with the last of his dying strength, he seized Han Yoojin’s neck and squeezed. Han Yoojin gasped violently as the air was throttled out of his lungs, but as black spots began to creep into the edges of his vision, he finally managed to kick away Seo Minseong’s rapidly weakening body.

Seo Minseong continued to choke and convulse on the ground as Han Yoojin staggered toward the crate and pulled a potion out of his pouch, downing it in one long gulp. A high-rank one. It couldn’t be anything less.

A tingling warmth washing over his body, alerting him that the potion was taking effect. It wasn’t miraculous enough to leave him good as new, but it did knit together broken flesh and bone, wiping away all of the pain and traces of damage, leaving him only somewhat drained of energy. 

Once he’d slipped on the stealth bracelet and secured the pouch around his waist, he staggered over to Seo Minseong’s dying body. Seo Minseong was nowhere close to the hunter that Han Yoohyun had been, but he was still a mid-rank hunter with an affinity for destruction. He might not be able to take down a mythic dragon, but for a single warehouse—he would do. Working quickly and precisely, Han Yoojin stabbed his knife into the ground and carved out an achingly familiar rune.

Burn.

As Seo Minseong’s convulsions died down to faint twitches, Han Yoojin drove the knife through his heart, letting his cooling blood and the remainder of his life force drain into the channels formed by the rune carved into the ground. As the blood began to overflow past the edges of the carving, it sparked into a conflagration, a massive blaze that began to devour everything around it.

Han Yoojin didn’t wait to see the results of his work. As shouts and crashes rang out in the distance, he ran out the exit and dove into the nearby river, his head sinking below the cool water just as the roar of smoke and flame rose to a fever pitch above his head. Luckily, the currents were fairly calm on this stretch of the river, and he managed to propel himself a good distance upstream before dragging himself out of the water.

It was fortunate that it was nighttime, well past the hours when the port would be bustling with life, so it was unlikely that any bystanders had gotten caught in the blaze, though Han Yoojin did steal a horse from a nearby stable with a whispered word of apology and a few gold pieces tossed into the hay. Completely drained of energy, it was all he could do to swing onto the back of the horse and keep himself there as it sped up into a canter.

If he followed the river all the way upstream, it would lead to Seseong’s capital, where Sung Hyunjae’s manor was located. But the problem was, he didn’t know how much time he’d lost while unconscious. By the time he arrived, would the coronation have begun already? Would he be arriving at an empty house?

Or, worse, would he be intruding in the middle of a celebration in full swing? If his company had been desired, Sung Hyunjae would have said so. Won’t my dear Honey keep me company on my birthday, or something like that. Maybe he was unexpectedly the type who just wanted to have a simple dinner with close friends? Kang Soyoung and Evelyn Miller and the like. It was true that Han Yoojin was going over there to set fire to his house, but. Even he would feel just a tiny bit bad about ruining someone’s birthday night. Only a little bit, though.

Forget it, forget it. He would make it there first and then decide. If they were busy having fun, then. Well. Then. He could just drop off the present and reschedule the thrashing and the fire-setting to another day. Because he was generous like that.

After what felt like an eternity, though realistically would have been only a couple of hours, he could see the lights of Seseong’s capital in the distance. Even at this time of night, there were signs of life in the streets, the sound of laughter and conversation coming from the packed taverns and the odd late-night straggler on the streets. Han Yoojin slowed his horse to a trot as he crossed the city gates, fighting to keep his eyes open as drowsiness encroached.

“Wait—!” One of the guards by the city wall called out to him, waving him down. Han Yoojin stopped the horse and looked up dubiously, and the guard ran over in a hurry. “What’s your name?”

Han Yoojin opened his mouth to speak, then hesitated, his eyes flickering to the only other guard nearby, the memories of the last day still fresh. “Kim Deoksu,” he lied.

“… Oh,” the guard said, his interest vanishing. “Carry on, then.”

Strangely, he was asked for his name at least twice more as he made his way through the city streets, but in the end, he made it to the tallest hill where Sung Hyunjae’s manor stood without incident. Sung Hyunjae’s personal guards, at least, were guaranteed to be under his tight control, so Han Yoojin let his horse approach before cupping his hands around his mouth.

 “Get Deputy Kang Soyoung,” he shouted. “Tell her that Comet’s dad is here.”

The guards on the manor wall exchanged a look, and one of them ran into the building. Mere moments later, Kang Soyoung appeared, still fully geared as if she was readying for a patrol.

“There you finally are, young lord Yoojin,” she said with palpable relief. “Which direction did you come from?”

“The river,” Han Yoojin answered, baffled at the unexpected question.

“The river!” Kang Soyoung exclaimed. “What were you doing all the way over there?!”

Han Yoojin shrugged noncommittally. “Forget that for now. What day is it? And what time? How far off from the coronation?”

Kang Soyoung tilted her head. “Umm… it’s about midnight, I guess? And about a day away from the coronation.”

Han Yoojin frowned. “Is it before or after midnight, then?” He demanded. “And does ‘the day before’ mean before or after the midnight bell rings?”

“Before! It’s before midnight,” Kang Soyoung chirped. “And after the midnight bell… it’ll be the day before the coronation.”

“Oh.” Han Yoojin exhaled with relief. “Okay. Then, where is Sung Hyunjae right now?”

Kang Soyoung blinked. “He’s in his room.”

“I see.” Han Yoojin nodded, urging his horse into a slow trot. “Then, I’m going to break into his house now. Tell the guards not to arrest me.”

“Eh? Oh—ohhhh!” Kang Soyoung clapped her hands together enthusiastically. “I see! Alright! Do you need me to take your horse for you?”

Han Yoojin contemplated the offer, but as soon as he stood up on the stirrups and put weight on his feet, his legs immediately buckled.

“… I think,” he said slowly, “that I’ll pass, but thanks.”

Without much fuss, Kang Soyoung left him alone to circle around the manor until he reached the inner courtyard. Sung Hyunjae’s room was, unfortunately, located on the second floor, and he eyed the height dubiously. There was a tree which could have gotten him at least a little close in elevation, but in his current state, he wasn’t sure that he could climb it. He made a valiant effort anyways, clinging to one of the thicker branches as he hauled himself off the horse and swung onto the tree, but halfway up, the exhaustion finally fully caught up to him.

So much for the indignant entry he’d envisioned.

“Sung Hyunjae,” he called wearily. “I’m going to fall off of this tree right now, so if you don’t want to clean a mess off of your nice pavement, you’d better do something about it.” Then, he gave up and slumped against the branch.

No sooner had he spoken than the windows burst open, and a glittering length of golden chain shot forth, winding gently around his upper arms and waist and lifting him breezily off the tree, depositing him in a neat pile on the plush carpet inside.

“… Han Yoojin.” It was Sung Hyunjae’s voice, though Han Yoojin was too lazy to open his eyes. “There’s blood on you.”

“Oh, really? I hadn’t noticed,” Han Yoojin said sarcastically. “Just put a towel down on the floor or something.”

There was a sigh, and Han Yoojin felt himself being picked up and placed onto something soft. It felt like the bed. It couldn’t be the bed, right? In this state? Who was going to wash the bloodstains off the blankets? The distress of the thought finally compelled him to crack open an eye.

It really was the bed. Sung Hyunjae, you madman.

“Yoojin,” Sung Hyunjae said softly. For some reason, he was also fully geared. Had their entire squad just come back on a patrol that’d run late? “Why did you leave your brother’s side without any guards?”

“Sorry, I didn’t realize I was five years old and needed to ask my nanny for permission before going anywhere,” Han Yoojin said acidly. “Anyways, this is your fault in the first place.”

Sung Hyunjae paused. “My fault?”

Han Yoojin rolled over, propping himself up on his elbows so he could glare at Sung Hyunjae to the correct effect. “I had to come all the way here to ask for your mailing address. Since I won’t be able to give you your coronation present in person.”

“I see,” Sunt Hyunjae said evenly. “And why is that?”

“… Do you need to ask?” Han Yoojin asked incredulously. “You’re the one who didn’t send an invitation.”

Sung Hyunjae gave him a long, inscrutable look. Then, he turned and picked up a card from his desk, placing it in Han Yoojin’s hand. Slowly, Han Yoojin opened the card.

“… Is this a joke?” He asked. “It’s blank.”

“Because I didn’t know what to write, you see.”

Han Yoojin scowled. “What do you mean, you didn’t know what to write? Did you forget how to spell my name? Just write anything.”

“I’m asking what you think I should write.”

Han Yoojin opened his mouth to reply, but before he could speak, Sung Hyunjae placed a finger to his lips.

“Don’t answer yet,” he said softly. “Think about it first.”

Reluctantly, Han Yoojin closed his mouth again, not forgetting to shoot Sung Hyunjae another venomous glare.

“Don’t think you’ll get off that easy,” he said tartly. “Did you have fun? Acting all high and mighty as you sent everyone else’s invitation but mine?”

Sung Hyunjae’s lips curved in a bizarrely gentle smile. “I must admit, I did hope, a little, that it would keep me on your mind.”

Han Yoojin’s eyes narrowed. “As I thought, I won’t be happy unless I get at least two good punches in.”

“Of course,” Sung Hyunjae agreed easily. “I’ll accept whatever punishment my Honey sees fit. Shall I turn my cheek and close my eyes?”

Stupid elite, flaunting his stupid elite-rank durability.

Fighting the weariness in his limbs, Han Yoojin twisted his torso up a little higher and pulled his elbow back to strike. But just as he did so, the deep, reverberating sound of a bell rang faintly in the distance.

The midnight bell.

Tsk. Wordlessly, Han Yoojin let his arm fall back loosely to his side. This was why he’d wanted to arrive earlier. There was no decency in hitting someone on their birthday, after all. Instead, he fumbled open the latch of his waist pouch, pulling out a slim-necked glass bottle.

“Sung Hyunjae,” he said, pressing the bottle vengefully into his flawless, broad chest. “You crazy, annoying, insufferable bastard—

“—Happy birthday.”

Chapter Text

Sung Hyunjae’s palm came to a rest atop the glass bottle pressed against his chest. Lifting it up, he examined it carefully.

The dark glass of the wine bottle obscured its contents, other than the faint outline of the liquid inside. The bottle itself had no labels or markings, the only clues as to its origin the wax seal over the cork bearing Haeyeon’s crest, and the delicate silk ribbon tied around the neck, each color woven into it representing a blessing for the child’s life. Warm reds, for love and affection. Calm shades of blue, for peace and safety.

Gentle yellows, for long life.

Han Yoojin cleared his throat, a tinge of embarrassment on his face. “Because you ended up using one for no reason last time. Anyways, this is something you wouldn’t be able to buy with all the money in the world, so you’d better treasure it. It’s the best vintage you’d find in Haeyeon, since…” He forced out a strained laugh. “They didn’t know I’d be a disappointment yet.”

Something uncategorizable swelled in Sung Hyunjae’s chest, heavy and suffocating, a feeling that refused to be shaped into words. It drowned his thoughts in molasses and turned his tongue into lead.

“… Of course, I’ll treasure it,” he said softly, setting it gently on the nightstand by the bed. “It’s the second best present I’ve received today.”

Han Yoojin looked up with a flicker of annoyance. “Am I supposed to be flattered by that? What’s this amazing other present that you managed to receive at the stroke of midnight, then?”

“This, of course.”

With his index finger, he traced the outline of Han Yoojin’s face, still smudged with dirt and mud, cool and clammy to the touch. When Sung Hyunjae cupped the whole of his cheek in his palm, he felt Han Yoojin relax his weight ever so imperceptibly into his hand.

Sung Hyunjae smiled helplessly. “What gift could be better than your presence?”

Like clockwork, a lovely red bloomed underneath his fingers on Han Yoojin’s cheeks. Han Yoojin turned his face aside grumpily, the ends of his hair tickling the back of Sung Hyunjae’s hand. Sung Hyunjae had never considered himself one for addiction, but he could never resist provoking this reaction, it seemed.

“But you’ll have to forgive me,” he continued. “I hadn’t expected my Honey to take such initiative, so I don’t have the rings prepared.”

Han Yoojin’s bright eyes snapped back toward him with suspicion. “What rings?”

Sung Hyunjae raised an eyebrow. “Our engagement rings. Since we’ve already exchanged wines.”

“… What exchange?” Han Yoojin stared at him as if he’d lost his mind. “Didn’t you hear me? I said it was to compensate for the bottle you wasted so recklessly.”

“On giving to you. Though it wasn’t a waste. By all accounts, that’s the definition of an exchange, is it not?”

“It’s not,” Han Yoojin said firmly. “The intention is lacking. And besides, that aside, aren’t you missing a few steps in between?”

“Oh, really?” Sung Hyunjae leaned in closer, his fingers trailing down to hook around Han Yoojin’s chin. “Which steps are those? We can make them up, one by one.”

There was a moment of delay before Han Yoojin reacted, his expression looking a little dazed as he swallowed, the lines of his pretty throat bobbing temptingly with the movement. Then, he blinked, his features rearranged into a scowl. “The step where I agree, for one.”

“Of course. That’s my mistake. I should have gotten on my knees to ask for your hand first thing.”

Han Yoojin wrinkled his nose. “Please don’t. I couldn’t possibly dare to ask His Future Majesty to kneel for me.”

“His Future Majesty would find it an honor, though,” Sung Hyunjae remarked mildly.

“His Future Majesty’s kneecaps, less so. What’s the official charge for incurring arthritis on the king?”

Sung Hyunjae pretended to think about it. “The laws might be lacking in specificity in that area. Perhaps it would be covered under defilement of the royal body?”

Han Yoojin choked on an incoming breath, his face turning beet red from lack of oxygen. Or from other thoughts. Who could say?

“I’m sure it isn’t,” he managed to squeeze out.

“Oh, is that so?” Sung Hyunjae smiled pleasantly. “Then it seems you have nothing to worry about. Though, even if you were thrown into the royal prison, I’d make sure it was an exceedingly comfortable cell. Perhaps you’d even forget about going home.”

Han Yoojin shot him a scathing glare, wrenching his face from Sung Hyunjae’s fingers and plopping heavily back onto the blankets with a huff. “Since Your Future Majesty seems to be so enthusiastic about the concept, perhaps you should simply move your chambers there instead. And while you figure out the logistics of that, I’m going to rest.” With that, he closed his eyes pointedly.

With a wry smile, Sung Hyunjae took a seat next to him, the edge of the mattress sinking under his weight as he did so. It shifted Han Yoojin’s body ever so slightly in his direction as Sung Hyunjae’s eyes raked over the tears and stains all over his clothes.

“On that topic,” he said lightly, though only he knew the amount of control that went into keeping his voice level. “How did my dear present end up in such a state?”

There were a few bloodstains on the front of Han Yoojin’s shirt, but those looked like they had been splattered onto him from someone else, so they weren’t of much interest to Sung Hyunjae. More concerning were the small tears and abrasions all over his clothes, the edges of which were soaked in traces of dried blood that indicated that he had probably bled when they were torn open.

“Your ‘present’ is on the nightstand,” Han Yoojin said tartly, his eyes still closed. “It’s in a perfectly fine state.”

There was an especially eye-catching stain on his right ankle where the cloth hadn’t even been torn. Sung Hyunjae leaned over to take a closer look and pull the ankle towards him, but as soon his fingers touched fabric—

Han Yoojin flinched suddenly, his eyes flying open as he jerked his leg violently away. His other foot was already raised in preparation to kick before clarity seemed to return to his expression.

“… What,” he laughed dryly in a poor imitation of nonchalance. “Give some warning before you do that.”

Sung Hyunjae’s brow furrowed minutely. “Show me your ankle.”

Han Yoojin clicked his tongue with disdain. “Weren’t you ever taught propriety?” He asked crisply. Still, perhaps sensing the tension in the air, he obediently kicked off his shoe and rolled up the leg of his pants. “See? There’s nothing wrong with it.”

The skin underneath was smooth and unbroken. Sung Hyunjae gripped his leg loosely, running his fingers down toward his foot, feeling for any sign of unnatural swelling or fractured bone, but he found none. Even the places where the fabric had been torn with signs of recent bleeding were whole and unblemished.

“Did you use a high-rank healing potion?” He asked neutrally.

Han Yoojin bit his lip. “Yeah, and?” He jutted his chin out stubbornly. “I injured it a little on the way. So what?”

The fact that he had used a high-rank potion in itself was suspicious. If it had been a lighter wound, no doubt he would have just poured a low-rank potion over the injury and called it fine.

“Han Yoojin,” Sung Hyunjae said in a low voice. “Don’t you think there’s anything about your trip that I should know?”

Han Yoojin opened his mouth, and for a second it looked like he was about to argue, but then his eyes widened. “Ah,” he said, his words turning into an exhale. “That’s right. You should be careful of House Brix.”

Sung Hyunjae’s eyes narrowed. “House Brix?”

“I ran into Seo Minseong on the way. Brix’s youngest.” Han Yoojin frowned in thought, half speaking to himself. “It was a coincidence, so he shouldn’t have been able to arrange anything so quickly. But he was able to get in touch with the Isles. I don’t know if his contact was military or underworld, though.”

Sung Hyunjae felt his chest grow cold. He didn’t trust himself to speak immediately.

“I know what you’re thinking,” Han Yoojin added quickly. “Seo Minseong isn’t in the line of succession for his title and is at odds with his siblings, so he might have acted alone. But, trust me, that guy is as dumb as a bag of bricks. He can’t do anything without his family. So if he has foreign ties like that, that means House Brix is compromised. Oh!”

Han Yoojin sat bolt upright suddenly, a soft curse slipping from his lips that he certainly wouldn’t have approved of coming from the mouths of any of the children.

“The ship,” he muttered. “If they reached the warehouse and then turned back, they could still be traveling along the river. If you have some people block off the river at the mouth, we might still be able to catch Seo Minseong’s contact before they leave Kingdom waters.”

Sung Hyunjae didn’t respond for a while. Seeing his lack of response, Han Yoojin nudged him impatiently with an elbow.

“Well?” He demanded. “Go give the order.”

Eventually, with a sigh, Sung Hyunjae stood up. “Stay here. Don’t run off again,” he murmured, placing a hand on Han Yoojin’s windswept locks. In reply, Han Yoojin shot him a look as if Sung Hyunjae had said something profoundly stupid.

With some reluctance, Sung Hyunjae stepped over to the doors of the bedroom suite, pulling them open. As soon as the wooden doors began to swing, he heard a series of soft thumps from the hallway outside.

“Kang Soyoung,” he said levelly.

The sound immediately ceased. Moments later, there was an awkward cough, and Kang Soyoung scuffled into view.

“Your Grace,” she said with a bit of forced cheer. “I was just—just passing by. Did you need me for anything?”

He raised an eyebrow at her, watching her shuffle her feet nervously, but in the end, he didn’t comment on her response. “Have you already called off the search?”

“Yes, sir!” She said eagerly. “I’ve told everyone that he’s been found.”

“And Sir Kim Sunghan?”

“I sent him home, too!” She beamed. “He said he’ll pass on the word that young lord Yoojin is safe here.”

Sung Hyunjae nodded. “Then, tell Dame Evelyn Miller to have her men secure the mouth of the river. Inspect every ship that passes through, and if any of them originate from the Isles, question them and detain them if they seem suspicious.”

“Understood, sir!” Kang Soyoung chirped.

“... Also,” Sung Hyunjae paused. “Have a team sweep the river and the surrounding areas. Look for Seo Minseong of House Brix and anyone associated with him. If they find anyone who might have been involved in Han Yoojin’s capture…. Escort them here for a chat,” he said pleasantly, enunciating each word. “And ensure that they are very well taken care of during their stay.”

Kang Soyoung’s eyes widened as her hands flew to her mouth, and she nodded vigorously. With a last, hurried parting bow, she scurried off to complete her tasks.

Once she was gone, Sung Hyunjae gripped the door frame tight enough that his fingers sunk into the wood. After taking a long breath, he pried his hand away, staring at the deep cracks and indents left behind.

“That will need to be replaced,” he said absently.

When he returned, Han Yoojin was thankfully still where he’d left him, a knit between his eyebrows as his gaze bored holes into the ceiling. He didn’t even turn his head as Sung Hyunjae approached, until Sung Hyunjae placed a thumb over the crease in his brow to smooth it out.

“Still thinking so hard?”

Han Yoojin swatted irritably at his hand, though there was a lethargic quality to his movements. “It doesn’t make sense,” he mumbled. “House Brix doesn’t have any ports in their territory, so they don’t stand to benefit much from an alliance with the Isles. They’d be better off attaching themselves to a domestic power, like when they were Choi Sukwon’s lapdogs. Unless…” His eyes widened. “Unless, don’t tell me, it was Choi Sukwon who…”

“Han Yoojin,” Sung Hyunjae reminded softly. “Is it the time for this?”

Han Yoojin blinked slowly at him with his wide eyes. “Oh,” he said finally, in a tone of realization. “Because it’s your birthday.”

Sung Hyunjae looked at him helplessly. “Because it’s past midnight,” he said. “Because you’re tired, and still covered in blood.”

Han Yoojin opened his mouth, looked down, then closed it. “Oh,” he said again. “I should wash up.”

Sung Hyunjae watched with concern as he pushed himself up laboriously onto his elbows and rolled off the bed, landing shakily on his feet.

“... Shall I carry you?” Sung Hyunjae asked.

“I can walk,” Han Yoojin refused stubbornly.

Calling it “walking” would have been a bit generous, but he did indeed begin to stagger his way across the room. Sung Hyunjae’s gaze sharpened onto his right leg. It was difficult to ascertain with the haphazard way he was teetering, but it looked like he was walking with a slight limp, hesitant to place too much weight on that foot.

“Han Yoojin.” Sung Hyunjae spoke up again. “I really insist that you let me carry you.”

Han Yoojin pressed his lips together, but he didn’t argue this time when Sung Hyunjae wrapped an arm around his back and slung another under his knees, lifting him neatly off the ground.

“... Now you’ve gotten dirty, too,” Han Yoojin exhaled under his breath.

“I don’t mind washing up as well,” Sung Hyunjae said mildly.

Han Yoojin’s mouth scrunched up in something that he himself would most definitely have resisted describing as a pout, but nevertheless undoubtedly was one. “Who said anything about you? My heart goes out to the poor servants who’ll have to clean this.”

The corner of Sung Hyunjae’s lips twitched upwards. “I see. Then I’ll make sure to pass along your sentiments.”

Han Yoojin let out a huff, turning his face aside. It had the effect—intended or not—of burying his nose into Sung Hyunjae’s chest, his warm breath falling in rhythmic puffs, seeping through the thin shirt to soak Sung Hyunjae’s skin. They were both quiet as he crossed the room to the side chamber where the bath was located, only the faint sound of running water echoing through the air as they approached.

Once inside, he set Han Yoojin down on a bench near the pool, stripping the ruined cloth from his body piece by piece. Even the most frugal seamstress would have agreed that there was nothing left to salvage of the material, almost every fraction of its surface dotted with small tears or warped threads or soaked through with now-dried blood.

Han Yoojin remained uncharacteristically docile through the process, and a quick glance up at his face confirmed that most of his attention was now tied up in remaining awake, as his eyelids fought to stay open and his head dipped tiredly every few minutes. Sung Hyunjae reached up to stroke the soft curve of his cheek. 

“Just a little longer,” he promised.

“Liar,” Han Yoojin mumbled.

Sung Hyunjae smiled indulgently, peeling the last layer of grimy, river-soaked undershirt from his torso. When he started on the pants, Han Yoojin finally stirred, smacking his hands away.

“I can do it,” he said drowsily, stumbling over his own words.

But a few minutes of fumbling later, he did manage to get the buttons free, the filthy garments falling free of his legs. He tried to stand up with a wobble, but Sung Hyunjae pressed a hand to his shoulder to keep him in place.

“The tiles are slippery,” he pointed out. “If you fall here, you’ll need to get medical attention in this state.”

‘This state’ being half-asleep and fully undressed, nothing but the dark wisps of his short hair to cover his creamy skin.

Han Yoojin must have seen the wisdom of his words—or perhaps he was too tired to argue—because he merely let out a soft, cute huff and sat back down. Sung Hyunjae made quick work of his own clothes, then scooped him up in his arms and headed to the pool.

The pool wasn’t terribly large, only a little more than the height of a person in diameter, but it was equipped with heating and filtration artifacts that kept the water clean and warm. There was a step running along the edge of the pool that doubled as a seat, and when he sat down, the water rose as far as both of their chests. Seated on Sung Hyunjae’s lap, with his head pillowed on his shoulder, Han Yoojin was kept comfortably away from the pool’s hard stone edges.

“Show me your ankle,” Sung Hyunjae instructed in a low voice.

There was a grumpy noise, and then a splash as a slim leg broke free of the water’s surface. Sung Hyunjae placed his hand underneath the ankle, inspecting it once more through the steam and the water’s milky translucence, but just as before, there was no sign of injury. When he gave it a gentle squeeze, though, he felt Han Yoojin’s body tense in his arms.

“Does it hurt?” He asked quietly.

“Like I said, it’s healed,” Han Yoojin grumbled.

Slowly, without any sudden movements, Sung Hyunjae reached for the soap and slathered some onto his hand, massaging it carefully into the skin around Han Yoojin’s ankle and calf. Though it took some time, Han Yoojin’s shoulders gradually began to relax in increments as Sung Hyunjae’s fingers worked into his flesh. It really did seem like there was nothing wrong with the leg.

With no choice but to give up his current line of investigation, Sung Hyunjae let the foot drop back into the water, the suds getting swept away by the mild current. His attentions moved farther up the limb, kneading the soap into soft thighs before traveling back down the other leg. Han Yoojin was all but asleep at this point, his head drooping limply into the crook of Sung Hyunjae’s shoulder.

“Sung Hyunjae,” he murmured, his voice barely louder than the faint burble of bubbling water. “How are you planning to celebrate your birthday tomorrow?”

“Celebrate?” Sung Hyunjae remarked in surprise, as he placed a palm under one of Han Yoojin’s small, delicate wrists to lift his arm out of the water. “The mundane delights of everyday life, I suppose.”

“... Just that? Nothing special?” Han Yoojin’s exhale of surprise manifested as a light nudge of his nose against Sung Hyunjae’s neck.

As far as Sung Hyunjae had been concerned, one tedious formal dinner was less troublesome than two, so the coronation might as well take place with his birthday. He’d even toyed with the idea of holding it on the same day—though he’d decided against it at the last second, for some reason.

“Then, what would my dear Honey consider special?” He asked curiously, playing with the bubbles that caught in the spaces between Han Yoojin’s fingers.

“Hmm…? What are you asking me for…” Han Yoojin’s voice trailed off into silence for a moment before it trickled to life again, whisper-quiet. “It’s your birthday… after all. You can do… whatever you want.”

“Whatever I want?” Sung Hyunjae chuckled. “I might be convinced of the virtues of birthdays yet. The young master, did you also spoil him like this when he was young?”

“Mmm…” Han Yoojin’s drowsy hum buzzed faintly against his skin. “Yoohyun and I… used to sneak out into the city… He liked to ask for snacks, and candy.” A puff of laughter spilled from his lips. “I bet you’ve never… eaten food from a street stand… have you?”

The last few words were barely audible, and Sung Hyunjae turned his head to confirm that Han Yoojin’s eyes were indeed fully closed, lips parted just a sliver as his chest rose and fell in a slow, steady rhythm.

“I haven’t,” Sung Hyunjae answered softly. “I haven’t had the young master’s good fortune until now, after all.”

Of course, Han Yoojin couldn’t hear him.

Sung Hyunjae kept the rest of his motions efficient and methodical as he cleaned the rest of the grime off of Han Yoojin’s skin. Perhaps due to the water’s comfortable temperature, he didn’t rouse even when his hair was rinsed, the expression on his sleeping face tranquil and still. After drying him off with some towels, Sung Hyunjae slipped one of his own nightshirts over him, his small frame swimming in the fabric like it was a gown.

Then, he set Han Yoojin gently atop the clean sheets before stripping away the dirty layer of blankets on top. With the season being just past the cusp of autumn, the nights weren’t yet cold enough to be concerning, and between the two of them, there would be more than enough warmth to go around, anyways.

Chapter Text

When Han Yoojin opened his eyes, his field of view was completely taken over by the expanse of fabric over a broad, warm chest. Other than the fact that the room was still dim, there was very little else that he could make out.

He tried to turn his head, but he found that there was a pair of arms wrapped firmly around his waist, limiting his movements. The only progress that a bit of wriggling got him was to have the arms wrap tighter, fully locking in his range of motion. He looked up suspiciously at Sung Hyunjae’s perfectly serene sleeping face.

“You’re awake, aren’t you?” He accused in a whisper.

The long, golden eyelashes didn’t so much as quiver.

Annoyed, he reached up and pinched Sung Hyunjae’s immaculately sculpted nose, closing off his airways. One of the arms around his waist did loosen in response, but instead of granting him the freedom he was aiming for, it trailed along his back before gripping the underside of his thigh. Large fingers dug into bare skin, and he immediately froze at the sensation.

It wasn’t that it was their first time in such a… compromising position. It wasn’t like Sung Hyunjae hadn’t helped him wash up back when his vision had been affected, or that he hadn’t already seen and touched probably everything that there was to see and touch. But those had been situations where the circumstances had necessitated the closeness—he could tell himself so, anyways. It became more difficult to convince himself as the firm grip kneaded farther up his heated skin, digging into the crease of his inner thigh. He couldn’t help a small gasp as he subconsciously pitched his hips forward, accidentally grinding into the solid weight of Sung Hyunjae’s hard abdomen.

He had never been more thankful for the scant few layers of thin fabric between them.

“Sung Hyunjae,” he hissed, his face burning.

Sung Hyunjae finally deigned to stir, his eyelids opening lazily, a crinkle in the corners of his eyes. “Good morning,” he murmured, his voice still melodically low and husky from sleep—despite the slight, comical nasal quality to it, owing to the fact that his nose was still being pinched. “Did you rest well?”

As if to punctuate the question, his errant hand slid up, hooking Han Yoojin’s knee to pull it around his own hip. Meanwhile, his head dipped, pushing past the grip on his nose to bury his face in the crook of Han Yoojin’s neck, inhaling deeply.

“You, you—” Han Yoojin fervently willed the thunderous pounding of his heart to quiet. “Has the extra year to your age made you go senile? If you want to smell some flowers, go outside.”

“I don’t, though?” Sung Hyunjae hummed, tickling the sensitive skin of his neck. “I was simply craving something sweet after waking up.” His voice oozed with the easy self-assurance of someone who thoroughly dripped attractiveness and took full advantage of it. Han Yoojin cursed him and all of his descendants under his breath.

“Don’t you know to brush your teeth in the morning before you eat?” Han Yoojin said, ignoring the slightly desperate hitch to his voice.

At that, Sung Hyunjae pulled back, the curve of his lips soft and full of mirth. “But, it’s my birthday,” he said.

Han Yoojin stared at him, completely thrown by his thread of logic. “… So?” Did he think teeth stopped existing on his birthday, or something?

Sung Hyunjae tilted his head. “Didn’t young lord Yoojin say that I could do whatever I want on my birthday?”

“... I wouldn’t say such a thing,” Han Yoojin denied, affronted. He might say something along those lines to Yoohyun or Yerim, but that was because they were good kids who behaved themselves the rest of the year.

The corner of Sung Hyunjae’s mouth rose ominously, and Han Yoojin only barely registered the danger before strong hands gripped his waist, and the world spun on its head. The next thing he knew, he was staring down at Sung Hyunjae’s perfect face, legs bracketing a torso that felt firm as rock.

“It’s not good to go back on your word,” Sung Hyunjae cooed into his ear. The nearness, in tandem with the hands locked vise-like around his waist, sent a shiver down his spine.

“I’m not—ah!” Fuck, don’t suddenly press in a weird spot. “I’m saying you should still be considerate of others.”

“I would very much like to be considerate. But, my dear Yoojin, you’ll have to tell me what you like for that.”

It was difficult not to feel overwhelmed by Sung Hyunjae’s touch. The heat from his palms practically burned as he began kneading again, pulling up the hem of the long shirt until it bunched at Han Yoojin’s hips. He shivered at the feel of cool air against his skin in contrast, embarrassingly bared to the room. His heavy breathing was deafening to his own ears, drowning out any fragments of thought he could begin to put together, until the only thing left was the distant ringing of his mind.

… No, hang on, the ringing wasn’t coming from his mind. It was coming from the far corner of Sung Hyunjae’s bedroom.

“... What’s that sound?” He asked distractedly, craning his neck.

“Ignore it. It’s not important,” Sung Hyunjae answered, pulling Han Yoojin’s head back down. He did forget it for a brief moment when hot lips met his flesh, nipping roughly at his collarbone like it was candy.

And then the ringing returned, with twice as much urgency and insistence as before.

“Sung—ngh—Hyunjae,” he gasped. “That sounds urgent.”

“It’s not,” Sung Hyunjae breathed into his skin. The vibrations of his voice penetrated deep into the hollow of his chest.

“The person sending them… seems to think so.”

He recalled what the sound was now—it was the default ringing used in most of the cheaper, basic types of communication artifacts. Though, he couldn’t imagine who Sung Hyunjae might have deemed important enough to keep a line of communication with in his bedroom, but not important enough to splurge on a more sophisticated artifact for. A loathed enemy?

“At least go check,” Han Yoojin insisted, shoving his hand over Sung Hyunjae’s wandering mouth like a muzzle.

Sung Hyunjae peered up at him through his stupid, glistening lashes, letting out a dramatic exhale through his nose that made Han Yoojin’s palm itch, and with a shrug of defeat, his head fell back onto the pillow. Han Yoojin cautiously removed his hand and climbed off of Sung Hyunjae, pulling down the hem of his shirt back down as he did so. Shit, it was really embarrassing to be so exposed down there.

Especially when he caught Sung Hyunjae watching him instead of going to check his damned artifact.

“What are you still waiting for?” He hissed, his face bright red as he aimed a hard kick at Sung Hyunjae’s side.

Sung Hyunjae caught his ankle neatly on the rebound, pressing a light, tickling kiss to the inner arch of his foot that had him squirming. He attempted another stomp on that needlessly beautiful face, but trying to tug his foot out of Sung Hyunjae’s grasp only sent him tumbling backwards into the soft mattress once it was abruptly let go.

By the time he righted himself again, the target of his ire was already on the other side of the room, picking up a small stone tablet. It was even simpler than the one Bak Yerim had, though it was essentially the same design. There must have been quite a few messages piled up, judging by how many times he had to tap the artifact.

“So?” Han Yoojin asked impatiently. “Is it important?” He wiped his foot against the soft carpet a few times to get rid of the lingering tickling sensation, then plodded over to peek at the tablet.

“The young master wants to know if you’re well,” Sung Hyunjae replied with disinterest.

“What?! It’s Yoohyun?!” Han Yoojin snatched the artifact out of his hand, looking hurriedly at the displayed message.

Answer, or I’ll cut off your dirty hands.

Han Yoojin pinched the bridge of his nose. This kid, really.

Hyung is fine, he wrote back. Don’t threaten people randomly. Though, privately, he could understand, since it was Sung Hyunjae. Love, Yoojin.

As he handed back the artifact, a worrying thought suddenly occurred to him. “You didn’t mention it to him already, did you?” He asked. “About Seo Minseong.”

Sung Hyunjae seemed to be evaluating him with a level gaze. “I haven’t spoken of it,” he said neutrally. “Yet.”

“Good, don’t.” Han Yoojin said in a rush. “Don’t say anything until I tell him, I mean.”

“And you do intend to tell him?” Sung Hyunjae asked, arm circling around his waist to settle on his back.

“I will, I will.” Han Yoohyun would certainly take the news poorly, but he would take it even more poorly if he found out later from someone else. Han Yoojin’s brow furrowed as he contemplated his wording, only to be jolted out of his reverie mere moments later by a sharp nip to the side of his neck.

“This early into my birthday, and my dear Yoojin’s attention is already wandering,” Sung Hyunjae remarked into his ear.

His tone was playful, but Han Yoojin couldn’t shake the twinge of guilt in his chest at the reminder. Right, right. For one day, at least, he could put those nebulous future matters aside.

“Well.” He cleared his throat. “So, how did you want to spend your birthday?”

Sung Hyunjae laughed softly. “You asked that last night, too.”

“Oh.” Han Yoojin scuffed at the carpet with his bare heel. “Then, what was the answer?”

“Was I not clear enough? I’d like to enjoy my present, of course.”

Having spoken, Sung Hyunjae’s mouth was at the side of his face again, kissing lightly until it wandered onto his. He opened his mouth almost unthinkingly at the nibble on his lips, his tongue being invaded mere moments later by Sung Hyunjae’s taste. Between the light suction on his tongue and the aggressive exploration of his mouth, he could never quite anticipate the next sensation. Fuck, why was this guy so good at kissing?

Han Yoojin felt the blood rush to his head, the dizziness leaving him pliant as Sung Hyunjae’s hold on his waist constricted, pulling their hips flush. Something uncomfortable poked at his stomach—and it took him a minute to register that it was most certainly, definitely not Sung Hyunjae’s sword. He made a noise of surprise, but it was quickly swallowed up by another kiss, skilled and practiced.

There was a corner of his mind that couldn’t shake a measure of disquiet at the observation of Sung Hyunjae’s experience. He couldn’t help but wonder if Sung Hyunjae thought he was… easy, for lack of a better word. Because he was here, and present, and embarrassingly overwhelmed by any amount of attention—and Sung Hyunjae had to be used to getting that reaction from just about anyone who would’ve had the chance to be underneath him. Of course, there were surely other reasons, too—that he was resistant to Sung Hyunjae’s rank, that there was a level of trust between them in their shared motivations. That he still held some measure of novelty, and perhaps that novelty extended to. Erm. Physical matters, more than he’d thought.

But his thoughts only went in fruitless circles with no exit in sight. Anyways, it wasn’t an unpleasant experience—far from it. Besides, how many people were lucky enough to receive that kind of attention from someone they admired? Doubly, triply so when that person was someone like Sung Hyunjae—and just this once, he could admit that it was deserved, that he could understand why so many people would kill to be in his position, why they would be so reluctant to give it up once it was gone. He understood—it just left a bitter taste in his mouth and a hollow ache in his chest.

Screw it all, he thought. Anyways, the one here right now was him, and no one else. Reaching up, he hooked his arms around Sung Hyunjae’s neck to leverage himself upwards and push himself further into the crevice of Sung Hyunjae’s hold. He bit down viciously on the soft lips nibbling on his, venting his frustration through his teeth. Of course, there was nothing he could do to put a dent in Sung Hyunjae’s elite-rank skin, no matter how hard he bit.

“Yoojin,” Sung Hyunjae murmured, pulling back a little.

“What?” Han Yoojin snapped, a bit more irritably than he’d intended. Fuck, he really had to get a grip on himself.

In lieu of a response, Sung Hyunjae ran the pad of his thumb along the edge of Han Yoojin’s jaw, stopping underneath his chin to tip his face upwards. His gaze felt keenly searching, in a way that made Han Yoojin’s skin prickle as he caught his own image reflected in those golden eyes. Finally, Sung Hyunjae simply pressed a gentle kiss to the corner of his eye before bending toward his ear.

“Perhaps my dear Yoojin would prefer something a little naughtier?” He whispered, the ghost of a laugh in his voice.

Han Yoojin turned to look at him with suspicion.

“An illicit tryst in town,” he elaborated. “Just the two of us.”

There was a mischievous glint in his eye that gave Han Yoojin pause, a hazy half-memory from the previous night tugging loose.

“… Did I tell you about that, too?” He asked in disbelief. “About Yoohyun’s birthdays.”

“My dear Yoojin is a bit more loose-lipped during pillow talk, it seems,” Sung Hyunjae smiled.

“Tsk.”

If only he could slap the mouth that’d been so loose last night. Well, it wasn’t that there was actually a problem with speaking of those old memories, but…

Han Yoojin turned his face aside, dislodging Sung Hyunjae’s hand. “Fine, a little tryst in town, why not?” He said in a flat voice. “I’ve been in the market for a new lover, anyways.”

“Oh?” Sung Hyunjae raised an eyebrow. “Was I not worth consideration? After vying so pitifully for young lord Yoojin’s attention for so long.”

“Of course not,” Han Yoojin returned bluntly. “I’d rather have someone who’s young. Quiet. Listens to what I say.”

“I can assure you, my dear Yoojin, that every word from your lips is more precious to me than gold,” Sung Hyunjae said mildly. “And as for youthfulness—” The world underneath Han Yoojin’s feet fell away suddenly, and he reflexively clung to Sung Hyunjae’s neck for dear life in order not to fall as he was picked up. “—that’s better measured in vigor, isn’t it?”

A curse slipped out from between Han Yoojin’s lips before the spinning in his head subsided. “That’s the logic of the elderly,” he shot back. “Next, you’ll tell me you eat ginseng every day to stay young. Besides, I said ‘quiet,’ not ‘loves the sound of his own voice too much.’”

“Hmm,” Sung Hyunjae hummed. “But I love my dear Yoojin’s voice more, you see. So I have to provide you reason to use it.”

Han Yoojin had already opened his mouth instinctively to let loose another retort, stopping himself just in time. “Enough nonsense,” he sulked, thumping the solid bulk of Sung Hyunjae’s arm demandingly. “Make yourself useful, then. Where’s my bag?”

There was a clink as golden chains materialized, snaking through the air to a nearby stand where the neglected waist pouch lay. In a few light rattles, it hooked the band of the pouch and drifted back toward them, dangling its catch in front of Han Yoojin.

Fine. As party tricks went, maybe it was a little impressive.

Retrieving the bag, Han Yoojin rummaged through it until his fingers met the familiar texture of slim metal, pulling out a pair of worn glasses. Carefully, he unfolded the glasses and slid them onto Sung Hyunjae’s face. Damn, even the old-fashioned frames suited him, giving him a bit of a scholarly flair. Dissatisfied, Han Yoojin gave his hair an angry ruffle.

“A disguise artifact?” Sung Hyunjae commented.

“Since Your Future Majesty’s appearance attracts a little too much attention,” Han Yoojin told him.

Sung Hyunjae smiled indulgently. “I see. I’ll leave it to your judgment, then.”

Unfortunately, the disguise wouldn’t work to Han Yoojin’s eyes since he was already aware of Sung Hyunjae’s identity, which was rather a pity. He would’ve gotten a good laugh at Sung Hyunjae walking around and acting like himself with the appearance the glasses had been set to.

Deciding that walking straight out the front gates would be too eye-catching, Han Yoojin made them leave through one of the servants’ exits, sneaking through the massive manor grounds to the outer edge of the city.

“How exhilarating,” Sung Hyunjae remarked, as they slipped past the sentries on duty. “So this is the excitement of an affair.”

Han Yoojin rolled his eyes. “You can hide your aura with mana, right? Hurry and do that. And put me down before anyone sees,” he added in a hushed voice, elbowing Sung Hyunjae. Sung Hyunjae raised his eyebrows at him, so Han Yoojin clarified, “With your current appearance, it will look strange.”

He didn’t elaborate further, but Sung Hyunjae set him down onto the ground obediently, and he grabbed hold of Sung Hyunjae’s hand to lead them confidently into town. He wasn’t as familiar with Seseong’s capital as he was with Haeyeon’s, but he knew enough of the area to navigate them toward the bustling downtown areas.

The town was in a festive mood, apparently, with flower garlands and wreaths and paper streamers decorating the store fronts and lamp poles. There were more people on the streets and crowded into the various shops than usual, many of them with yellow flowers in hand.

“Is it a local holiday or something?” Han Yoojin wondered.

“Not to my knowledge,” Sung Hyunjae answered.

It took them a bit more walking to reach one of the busier town squares, the edges of the plaza lined with small, cobbled-together booths, displaying everything from colorful handmade crafts to delicious food to freshly blooming flowers. A mouthwatering aroma filled the air, the pleasant symphony of smells from the various delicacies on display as sellers shouted their wares. There was a stall selling meat skewers emitting a particularly appetizing aroma, so Han Yoojin tugged Sung Hyunjae over to the stand, tossing a silver coin at the stall vendor.

“Here ya go,” the vendor said cheerfully, passing him a handful of skewers in exchange.

“Thank you,” Han Yoojin said politely. “What’s the festival about, by the way?”

“Hm? Ah, are you and your grandfather travelers here?”

Grandfather? Out of the corner of his eye, Han Yoojin could see Sung Hyunjae’s pointed look. He only just barely held in his own snicker, keeping his face straight aside from a slight twitch of his lips.

“Something like that,” he answered vaguely.

“It’s the lord’s birthday,” the stall vendor explained amiably. “Well, I think it started out that way, anyways. It’s as good a reason to celebrate as any, though.”

This time, it was Han Yoojin’s turn to shoot Sung Hyunjae a look, but he only got an innocent shrug in response.

“Hey, if you’re a traveler, then how about a souvenir for good luck?” The stall owner next door cut in with a giggle, waving something small and rounded at him. It looked like a normal cloth doll, and a fairly well-made one, but there was something about the colors of it that gave Han Yoojin pause.

“That couldn’t be a doll of Sung—of Duke Seseong?” He asked in disbelief.

“That’s right! Good eye, customer!” The doll seller said triumphantly, shoving the doll into his free hand. “Look, look. The yarn, the fabric—all local specialties, carefully chosen! Nothing like the cheap crap they’ll be selling you at the other stalls!”

Han Yoojin took a glance around the plaza. Indeed, there were a few other vendors selling similar-looking items. He couldn’t help holding up the doll to Sung Hyunjae to compare. It wasn’t perfect, but… the slight shimmer of the yarn that made up his hair, the translucent sparkle of the glass beads used for his eyes… All in all, it was a pretty good match.

Of course, unlike the real thing, the doll was rather cute.

“Why is it a good luck charm?” He couldn’t help asking. “Shouldn’t it be more like a curse?”

The doll seller laughed out loud, thumping him heartily on the back. “You haven’t seen him in person before, have you?” she said confidently, leaning in closer to his ear to whisper, “If you ever do, get a good look at his face.”

Han Yoojin’s eyes inadvertently flickered to Sung Hyunjae’s face again, and, fine, he could see the logic in that. From the perspective of a normal citizen of Seseong, Sung Hyunjae probably gave off the impression of being a refined gentleman, skilled at maintaining the territory and helping its trade to flourish, all while having an appearance that was practically divine. Well, admittedly, all of it was the truth. It was just that the personality underneath was a bit…

Han Yoojin’s fingers gave the doll a small squeeze, and he cleared his throat awkwardly. “Peace does need a new chew toy,” he said, as casually as he could muster, as he picked up a coin from his pouch and dropped it onto the doll maker’s stall.

“Thank y…” The doll maker’s voice faded as she picked up the coin, her eyes roundening to the size of saucers. “Excuse me, good customer,” she said in a choked voice, “I don’t think I can give you change for this.”

With Sung Hyunjae’s face in his peripheral vision still vying for his attention, it took Han Yoojin a good moment to register the problem as he stared at the coin in her hand, glistening with a golden sparkle. Gold. He’d given her a full gold coin. For a common festival trinket. Shit. It had to be that Han Yoohyun and Sung Hyunjae’s extravagant economic sensibilities were starting to rub off on him.

Red-faced, he turned his face aside with a cough. “Keep… Keep the change,” he said, attempting to manifest the air of a wealthy patron. Or something.

The doll maker’s eyes practically bugged out, and she pocketed the coin in a blink. “Thank you kindly, good customer!” He could practically see the moment her pupils turned into gold coins, her expression rearranging into a coy grin. “Hey, if not change, then how about a good time?” She said with a wink. “I know some good places for a drink after I close up shop tonight, what do you think?”

“Um. I don’t really…”

“He’s already married,” Sung Hyunjae cut in suddenly, placing a hand on his shoulder. “He has a lovely wife waiting for him at home.”

“Oh.” The doll maker’s smile turned rigid as she scratched her head awkwardly. Even with Sung Hyunjae hiding his aura with mana, she could probably feel some of the presence of it upon closer contact. “Never mind that, then,” she said nervously. “You all have a good rest of the festival.”

“We will,” Sung Hyunjae replied pleasantly, the hand on Han Yoojin’s shoulder not-so-subtly steering them away. Behind them, Han Yoojin heard snatches of what sounded like a muttered, ‘the good ones are always taken,” before her voice was drowned out by the sound of the crowd. Even when they were well out of sight of the stall, Sung Hyunjae continued to direct them down several streets and alleys, ignoring the many cute little pastry shops and bookstores and streetside vendors they passed.

“Since when did I get a wife?” Han Yoojin finally couldn’t suppress his grumble. “I should’ve liked to have known before getting married off.”

Sung Hyunjae paused his steps, the hand on Han Yoojin’s shoulder abruptly veering to press him against a wall. They were in a quiet little back alley now, the thrum of passers-by distant enough to become muted noise.

“This is an affair, is it not?” He said with an eerily measured smile. “So, naturally, there’s a proper wife at home.”

“Oh?” Han Yoojin snorted. “And what’s this wife of mine like, pray tell?”

“The opposite of your lovely affair partner, I would assume.”

Han Yoojin raised an eyebrow. “Old, loud, and never listens to anything I say?”

The corner of Sung Hyunjae’s mouth curled upwards. “Just so,” he said coolly. “But also someone who will patiently wipe clean every surface and crevice of your body.”

Han Yoojin’s cheeks flushed red. It was unfair to bring up something like that at a time like this.

“It sounds like I should reconsider this little rendezvous, then,” he said tartly. “If even my affair partner is urging me to return.”

Sung Hyunjae’s fingers combed gently through Han Yoojin’s hair, but his golden eyes were locked on the little doll in his hand the entire time. Han Yoojin shifted the doll behind his body protectively.

“One little affair is harmless,” Sung Hyunjae murmured. “But I’d advise against looking for any more lovers than that. No matter how young and eager.”

His fingers had drifted to Han Yoojin’s shoulder, trailing down the length of his arm until it dipped into the hollow of his palm, slowly prying at the doll.

“Who’s looking for…” The answer clicked in his mind then, the puzzle pieces finally slotting together, and he laughed out loud. “Oh,” he said delightedly. “Sung Hyunjae, do you really feel threatened by a doll?”

Only this guy could be so full of himself as to manage such a thing.

Sung Hyunjae’s unsubtle attempts to pry away the doll ceased, and Han Yoojin wriggled his arm away, dangling the doll in the air like a toy that he would throw for Peace to fetch.

“Well, it’s only natural that you’re jealous,” he said smugly. “The only good thing about you was your looks, after all, and now they’ve been stolen. Plus, it’s cute, soft, and never talks back. And brand new, too. Ah, maybe, instead of using it as Peace’s chew toy, I should keep it beside my bed and cuddle it every night.”

“… Young lord Yoojin likes the doll that much?” Sung Hyunjae’s eyes were still trained on the doll, but a measure of chill had fallen away from his voice—along with Han Yoojin’s previous surety. Was it not that he was upset about this cuter, miniature version of himself?

He cleared his throat. “Calling it liking is a bit much,” he said mulishly. “It’s just an improvement over the original model, that’s all.”

Sung Hyunjae’s intense gaze had shifted to his face now, and Han Yoojin could almost feel it itching at his skin. If he had something to say, couldn’t he just say it directly? He glared at Sung Hyunjae, daring him to speak.

Without warning, though, the displeasure suddenly cleared from Sung Hyunjae’s expression, and his face broke into a dazzling smile, the brilliance of the first rays of sunlight breaking through a dull cover of gloom. Han Yoojin caught himself staring entranced for a few moments before quickly glancing away to collect himself.

This damned bastard and his fickle, unpredictable moods.

“What now?” Han Yoojin demanded impatiently.

“Nothing,” Sung Hyunjae said, still smiling. “I simply reached a moment of enlightenment. A mistress should be tolerant and understanding, no? Even if young lord Yoojin decides to extend his affections to a third.”

“… How generous,” Han Yoojin said, speechless.

Wasn’t the change in attitude a little too fast? He quickly pocketed the doll before Sung Hyunjae could change his stance on the matter yet again.

“Anyways, enough talking, eat,” he urged, holding out one of the skewers. It had cooled considerably by this point, but the aroma of the well-blended spices was no less tantalizing. Sung Hyunjae eyed the meat contemplatively, then leaned his head forward and tore off a piece from the skewer with his mouth. It dangled comically between his teeth before he snapped it up, and Han Yoojin had to resist the urge to laugh. Even for the illustrious Duke Seseong, soon to be king, there was no elegant way to eat meat off a skewer, it seemed.

“Don’t be lazy,” he complained, waving the rest of the stick at Sung Hyunjae. “Hold it yourself.”

Sung Hyunjae pretended to think for a moment. “I don’t think I can,” he remarked. A second later, Han Yoojin found himself afloat again, carried in a pair of broad arms. “My hands are occupied, you see.”

“Careful, grandfather,” Han Yoojin told him. “Don’t strain your back.”

Sung Hyunjae chuckled. “If I do, would my dear Yoojin lovingly nurse me back to health?”

“You can rot in bed,” Han Yoojin said mercilessly. “But I’ll send you plenty of ginseng to preserve your youthfulness.”

Predictably, they drew more than a few strange looks when Sung Hyunjae stepped back out into the main streets like that, the gaze of onlookers each more conspicuous than the next as they craned their necks to stare. He could only imagine how strange it looked, being carried by someone with the appearance of an elderly man resembling Haeyeon’s old butler. The tips of his ears burned.

“Anyways, you could have warned me that there was a whole festival in your honor,” Han Yoojin grumbled. He felt a little silly now, coming all this way when the whole of Seseong was apparently already celebrating with him.

“Come to think of it, there was something like that,” Sung Hyunjae commented.

Han Yoojin shot him a dirty look. “You started a holiday for your own birthday and then forgot?”

Sung Hyunjae gave him a wounded expression. “I must profess my innocence. It wasn’t me. The municipal and provincial administrators like to do things that they think will win my favor.”

Han Yoojin became quiet. There were cases like that, he supposed. And above all, Sung Hyunjae was the sort of person you’d want to impress, no matter what.

“It’s better than erecting straw effigies of you to set on fire,” he consoled. That had been a rather low point in Choi Sukwon’s reign in the other timeline. “Even if the only good thing about you is your face.”

“So my face, at least, is to your approval?”

Han Yoojin blinked, then shut his mouth firmly. “I’m speaking objectively,” he protested.

The crinkle at the corners of Sung Hyunjae’s eyes didn’t disappear. “Then, I’d like to hear more of my dear Yoojin’s objective opinion of me.”

Han Yoojin pursed his lips, his eyes running over every mesmerizing angle and curve of Sung Hyunjae’s stupid, beautiful face. There was really nothing to criticize. “Objectively, you’re an ass,” he told him.

“Mm,” Sung Hyunjae accepted gracefully. “Go on.”

“Objectively,” Han Yoojin continued, “you deserve to fall into your own shit and choke on it.”

Sung Hyunjae laughed brightly at that, as if he’d been paid a particularly flattering compliment.

“Objectively…” Seated in Sung Hyunjae’s arms, Han Yoojin unfortunately had a particularly direct angle to the low glisten of Sung Hyunjae’s perfectly shaped lips, the soft texture of it underneath the pad of his thumb. He bent his head slowly, tongue darting out to lick tentatively at the corner of those lips. They were a bit salty, the faint flavor of spices still lingering on them.

Objectively, anyone would lose their minds for the chance to be this close to Sung Hyunjae.

He was about to bend down a second time, but an ear-piercing shriek pulled him away, his head snapping toward the source of the sound. An uneasy murmur ran through the crowd, their fellow pedestrians parting in a ripple to reveal a familiar-looking young woman with a ghastly expression on her face as she stared at them.

“… Deputy Soyoung?” Han Yoojin asked in surprise, hurriedly shoving Sung Hyunjae’s face away. “We weren’t, I wasn’t, this, this is just—”

“Y-Young lord Yoojin, you mustn’t,” Kang Soyoung wailed, her face ashy pale. She looked like she was on the verge of tears. “Are you really so dissatisfied with the duke? Isn’t he perfectly…” She lapsed into silence suddenly, as if unsure of how to continue. “No, I mean, although I understand how you feel… Still, please have some consideration for us underlings!”

It was Han Yoojin’s turn to stare at her, dumbfounded. “… What?” He asked, utterly lost.

Kang Soyoung was still gesturing incoherently when Han Yoojin felt the rise and fall of Sung Hyunjae’s chest pressing against him as he let out a long exhale, reaching up to pull the glasses off his face. The effect was instantaneous. Kang Soyoung’s face turned white as a sheet, and she dropped to one knee in a swift, urgent motion.

“Your Grace!” She cried, stock-still, the picture-perfect bow of a knight to their liege lord.

A deathly hush had fallen over the rest of the crowd, anyone within a stone’s toss drawing back, heads lowered with nervous tension. The festive mood around them had evaporated in an instant. Sung Hyunjae, too, had evidently grown bored of masking his aura, and Han Yoojin felt the familiar pressure wash over him as a rush of static, weighty and prickling.

“Well,” Sung Hyunjae remarked lightly. “Are you still in the mood for festivities?”

Han Yoojin coughed with embarrassment, feeling a twinge of guilt at having caused such a disturbance in public. “It’s… uh, probably fine to go home now. Oh, but, put me down for a second.” He thumped Sung Hyunjae’s arm insistently. “And wait here.”

Once his feet touched ground again, he began making his way to a stand selling baked goods a short ways back. It was keenly unnerving how still the rest of the crowd remained, pulling back as he passed by as if he were carrying some deadly plague. Seeing him approach, the owner of the pastry stand’s eyes widened, his shoulders stiff as he bowed hastily a few times, somehow both frantic and mechanical.

“H-how may I serve you, m-milord?” He stammered.

“Uh… I’m not really a milord or anything,” Han Yoojin tried to tell him, but if the stall owner heard, he gave no indication of relaxing. Finally, Han Yoojin gave up and simply pointed to one of the cupcakes at his stand. “Can I have one of those?”

“O-of course! R-right away, milord!” The stall owner’s hands were shaking so badly that he nearly dropped the first cupcake, the pink frosting smearing onto the one beside it. Looking thoroughly frightened, he quickly abandoned it and reached for a new one, packaging it carefully into a box and tying a ribbon on it with trembling fingers.

“Thank you,” Han Yoojin told him as he passed over his payment. He added some extra as compensation for scaring the poor man so badly.

“All done?” Sung Hyunjae asked when he returned.

Han Yoojin nodded.

With an easy smile, Sung Hyunjae took his hand as if nothing had happened, completely ignoring the bizarre atmosphere around them. Almost as an afterthought, he turned to look at Kang Soyoung, still kneeling on one knee on the ground.

“Kang Soyoung,” he called.

Her head snapped up immediately. “Yes, Your Grace?” She asked alertly.

“Enjoy the rest of the festival,” he told her.

The set of her shoulders relaxed conspicuously, relief evident on every line of her face. “Thank you, Your Grace!” She exclaimed, finally standing back up.

They began the slow walk back to the manor, the silence around them nearly deafening compared to the cheerful thrum from earlier that morning. Word of Sung Hyunjae’s presence must have spread fairly quickly, because the streets they passed through were suddenly much more densely packed than before, even if everyone remained quiet as a ghost, the crowd parting to let them by, keeping a good few lengths of distance away at any given moment. At one point, Han Yoojin thought he even glimpsed the doll seller from earlier that day, but Sung Hyunjae tugged him around the corner before he could get a closer look.

“Is it always like this?” Han Yoojin couldn’t resist asking, once they were within sight of the manor gates again. “When you go out into town.”

Sung Hyunjae glanced at him momentarily. “It’s been a while since I’ve visited such a crowded place,” he said mildly.

It wasn’t really an answer, but Han Yoojin let the matter drop.

“Do you have a candle?” He asked instead, clearing his throat. When Sung Hyunjae looked at him quizzically, he gestured awkwardly to the ribbon-tied box in his hand. “You know, for the cake.”

“Ah,” Sung Hyunjae murmured. “I was wondering when the young master became such a fan of the color pink.”

“Yoohyun? I don’t think he is… Though,” Han Yoojin added quickly, “That’s not to say that there’s anything wrong with the color pink. In fact, don’t you think it suits Your Grace quite well?”

Sung Hyunjae raised an eyebrow at him.

“Ahem. Well, give it some thought. Maybe Your Grace will come around on the matter.” It was a struggle to keep his face straight as he spoke, but he changed the subject quickly by stealing a small candle from a table setting in a random parlor.

They returned to Sung Hyunjae’s chambers to unbox the cupcake right there, the candle looking comically large stuck into the small mound of pink frosting. He began rummaging through his pouch for a match, but before he could find one, Sung Hyunjae snapped his fingers, and a small spark lit the candle ablaze.

“... Tsk. Convenient,” Han Yoojin acknowledged begrudgingly.

Staring at the flickering flame, though, he wavered. Shit. He really should have convinced Sung Hyunjae to visit Haeyeon instead. At least he would’ve been able to rope the kids into singing happy birthday along with him. It was really too embarrassing to be the only one. Was there anyone else he could drag into this? Kang Soyoung…? On second thought, after getting caught like that on the street, he didn’t think he’d be able to look her in the eye again for at least a week.

Hesitantly, he opened his mouth and started singing, off-rhythm and horribly off-key. His skin prickled especially at how intensely he was being stared at. Please stop looking. It wouldn’t make him sing any better.

Even when he was done, Sung Hyunjae didn’t move, so Han Yoojin pushed the cupcake toward him pointedly. “Hurry up and make a wish,” he urged.

Finally, Sung Hyunjae’s gaze moved to the candle, and after a brief pause, he blew. Han Yoojin let out a breath of relief as the flame sputtered out. He would take a myth-rank monster to this awkwardness any day. He removed the candle carefully, though it left behind a crater-like indent in the cake and frosting despite his best efforts.

“Should we cut it?” He wondered aloud. “I’ll look for a knife.”

When he stood up and crossed the suite, though, the blank card sitting innocuously on the desk caught his eye, the paper luminously golden from reflected lamplight. After a moment’s thought, he picked up a pen and dipped it in ink. He held the pen over the paper for several moments in deliberation, until a drop of ink beaded at its tip and nearly fell onto the blank paper. Hastily, he moved the pen away before it could mar the invitation’s creamy, smooth surface.

“Han Yoojin.”

Sung Hyunjae’s voice came from beside him, and he turned around to answer. Before he could say anything, though, something fluffy and sweet filled his mouth, smearing his lips with buttercream. The cake wasn’t quite as light and moist as the delicacies that Seseong’s pâtissiers whipped up, but it had an earthy, nutty flavor to it that was rather unique.

“It’s better than I thought,” Han Yoojin said with surprise.

Sung Hyunjae smiled in agreement. “The color does match,” he remarked, wiping away the excess cream with his thumb. Han Yoojin had to tear his eyes away as Sung Hyunjae brought the cream to his own lips and licked.

Another bead of ink collected at the tip of the pen and fell, landing soundlessly into the deep inkwell. The blank card shone accusingly at him, a bright reminder of the ceaseless march of time.

However lofty a position ‘Duke Seseong’ was, ‘His Majesty’ was sure to be that much higher. And Sung Hyunjae was someone who was, certainly, destined to continue ascending higher and higher, to heights that the rest of them couldn’t even dream of. Maybe, to him, the crown might as well be another trivial plaything, and the world within the Wall, a child’s nursery that he’d soon outgrow. Maybe, someday, Han Yoojin would turn to look behind and find that the chasm between them had become as wide as the one between them and the townspeople today.

If he didn’t move forward.

If he allowed himself to stagnate, stuck in place.

Dipping the pen in the ink anew, Han Yoojin forced himself to stop thinking, knowing that every rational path led to doubt. Still, if nothing else, he had always been skilled at not knowing his place. He put the pen to paper, every fiber of his control going into preventing the tip from shaking.

To Han Yoojin, he wrote, slowly and carefully. Earl of the Crescent Valley, partner-in-crime.

As he set the pen back down, he glanced at Sung Hyunjae, waiting for him to comment. Even after several minutes, though, he didn’t speak, his eyes merely fixed on the short line of text. Han Yoojin was almost about to prod him into a response when Sung Hyunjae finally picked the pen back up, adding a few elegant strokes of his own.

Seeing the new text, Han Yoojin flushed. “Don’t add random nonsense,” he grumbled.

Sung Hyunjae smiled faintly at him. “It’s not nonsense, though?”

Holding up the card, he blew on it gently, the glossy, damp ink turning dull as it dried. With almost reverent deliberation, he folded the invitation back up and smoothed it along the crease, finally laying the finished card in Han Yoojin’s palm.

“My beloved partner-in-crime.”

Chapter Text

“Wow, ahjussi, you do have some fashion sense, after all!” Bak Yerim exclaimed mercilessly. “Even though you’re always dressed like someone’s grandpa who just moved into the city from the countryside. But I guess you’re the type who only dresses up for events?”

Han Yoojin’s smile stiffened. He picked at the gold cuff of his sleeves, the weight of the red capelet heavy and unfamiliar on his shoulders. “It’s because I’m always with the kids at home,” he defended himself. “They would tear up anything nice.”

Bak Yerim didn’t argue with him, but she did continue to fix him with a skeptical look, until the door swung open and Sung Hyunjae stepped inside—similarly attired in Seseong’s red and gold colors. Han Yoojin wished fervently that for just once, her emotions wouldn’t be written so visibly on her face, her expression shifting from skepticism to dawning realization to pity.

“I didn’t know I’d be coming to the coronation,” he tried to explain. “So I didn’t have anything prepared.”

“It’s okay, ahjussi,” Bak Yerim consoled. “It’s not embarrassing to have someone else dress you at your age. All the big-shots have designers and stuff, right?”

They were both well aware that those were not remotely the same thing, but he chose not to say anything. Instead, he shot a scathing glare at Sung Hyunjae, the root of all of his problems.

At his pointed glare, Sung Hyunjae chuckled and placed a warm, broad hand on his cheek. “I’m repenting properly for my shortcomings. Is my dear partner not satisfied with how I’m taking responsibility?” Having spoken, he pressed a light kiss to Han Yoojin’s other cheek.

After a moment’s delay, Han Yoojin froze, eyes darting apprehensively to Bak Yerim, but she didn’t even seem fazed by their strange closeness. His shoulders relaxed slightly. If he thought about it, a kiss on the cheek wasn’t that strange, right? There were people who did it as a greeting.

“Hyung!” The door was flung open as Han Yoohyun barreled in, finally freed from the strict formalities for entry into the palace. His lack of an invitation must have held him up a little, after all.

Upon entering the room, Han Yoohyun immediately glared at Sung Hyunjae and elbowed his way between them, but that was just about normal for Yoohyun. There were no other comments about the two of them. Han Yoojin allowed himself to relax further. Right, right, it wasn’t that strange at all. He was just being overly self-conscious all of a sudden.

Han Yoohyun scoured him from head to foot, then spun him around for good measure. “Hyung, you’re okay,” he said with relief, apparently satisfied by the results of his inspection.

“Of course I’m okay,” Han Yoojin said, baffled. “Didn’t you get my message?”

“I received it,” Han Yoohyun said sullenly. “But, hyung, you didn’t even mention where you were going. We didn’t even know where to look when something happened to you.”

The worry and exhaustion in his voice was evident. Han Yoojin started to feel guilt gnaw at him. “I’m sorry,” he said sincerely. “I didn’t realize you’d worry so much. But, how did you know something happened to me?”

Han Yoohyun frowned, as if deliberating whether or not to answer; but in the end, he reluctantly explained. “The contract with Bak Yerim. It broke all of a sudden. So I had to contact that bas—Duke Seseong.”

So the contract must have counted his capture against Bak Yerim’s responsibility as his guard. Absently, he wondered whether the penalty had been triggered when he’d been knocked unconscious, or not until he’d been physically injured. Of course, they should just use more specific wording to guarantee the results in future cases.

“Sorry, Yerim,” he said apologetically. “I’ll get the curse penalty reversed for you soon.” He chewed the inside of his cheek in thought. “But, now that I think about it, it’s true that contracts could also be used for communication—”

“Hyung!” Han Yoohyun shouted, at the same time that Bak Yerim cried, “Ahjussi!”

“I meant with curse nullification measures in place, of course,” he rushed to add, wincing a little at the volume of their shouts in his ears.

Han Yoohyun opened his mouth to speak, but eventually, he only gnashed his teeth and glowered at Sung Hyunjae. “You. Say something.”

Sung Hyunjae must’ve guessed about his curse resistance from the auction, so he would understand the value of the idea, at least. Han Yoojin turned to Sung Hyunjae expectantly, but he wasn’t prepared for the look of quiet disappointment on his face. For some reason, that stung, more than outright hostility would have.

“It’s a good idea,” Han Yoojin said defensively.

Sung Hyunjae let out a sigh, stepping around Han Yoohyun to take his hand. Surprisingly, although Han Yoohyun’s face twitched with barely-suppressed irritation, he didn’t actually stop him.

“Yoojin,” Sung Hyunjae said.

“It’s not always possible to have communication artifacts on hand,” Han Yoojin continued to argue. “Or there might be cases where it would be suspicious to use them. Small, discreet ways to trigger a contract—it would be a valuable tool.”

Without warning, Sung Hyunjae knelt down on one knee, his towering height suddenly diminished. Han Yoojin swallowed with a dry throat, the rest of his prepared arguments scattering like sand. It was disconcerting—disarming, even—to be looking down at Sung Hyunjae’s face instead of up.

“Of course it’s a good idea,” Sung Hyunjae said softly. “My partner’s cleverness is unmatched.”

“Well, then, that’s enough said, isn’t it?” Han Yoojin said, face reddening as he tried fruitlessly to pull Sung Hyunjae back up. “You can get up now.”

“Yoojin.” Despite his best efforts, Sung Hyunjae didn’t budge. “When we heard that you were missing, Kim Sunghan made the trip from Haeyeon to Seseong on foot in order to look for you. Kang Soyoung and her squad also spent a full night and day searching.”

Had they really? And Kang Soyoung hadn’t even mentioned it once. She was really too good-natured. It was all that bastard Seo Minseong’s fault, of course, but… it seemed like he’d wasted a lot of people’s time.

“... I am sorry for the inconvenience,” he said reluctantly. “But as you can see, I turned out fine. It really wasn’t necessary.”

“Should we have stopped worrying about you, then?” Sung Hyunjae’s golden eyes were intense, bright and vivid. It was hard to look away from them. “You should understand that that isn’t possible.”

… Fine, he supposed that if one of the kids had run away from home, leaving only a note that said, ‘Don’t look for me,’ he also wouldn’t have been able to resist searching. Even knowing that they were strong. He glanced at Han Yoohyun, then at Bak Yerim. Agreement was etched in the lines of their faces, so much that they might as well have been nodding along vigorously.

“... I  will… try to be more careful,” Han Yoojin acquiesced.

“Good.” The corners of Sung Hyunjae’s eyes crinkled, as if the answer brought him genuine joy. Fuck, it wasn’t fair of him to act like someone who’d suddenly gained a heart. Weren’t you a bastard without a conscience? Just keep acting like that. “I’m sure my dear partner can do better than simply trying, though. Where are your earrings?”

Han Yoojin’s brow furrowed at the sudden change in topic. The brown leather waist pouch hadn’t quite matched with the rest of his outfit, so he’d kept it tucked behind him, hidden underneath the decorative red capelet. Reaching inside, he retrieved the earrings from their hiding place and held them out.

Sung Hyunjae took the earrings from his hand and leaned in even closer, close enough that Han Yoojin could feel the heat radiating off his body. With one hand, he tipped Han Yoojin’s head to the side by his chin, inserting one of the ruby-red droplets with the other. Only when both earrings had been fastened into place did Sung Hyunjae finally pull back, letting a decorated earlobe rest on the pads of his fingers as if admiring it.

“Next time, if my dear partner is in trouble, you should tell me as soon as you can,” he murmured.

“I wasn’t able to,” Han Yoojin objected. “They were taken from me.”

Sung Hyunjae flicked him lightly on the nose. “Even on your heroic charge back to Seseong?”

“… I was fine at that point, though,” he protested, a little less confidently.

“Do you think I’d object to hearing my partner’s lovely voice at any time of the day?”

Han Yoojin made a face like he’d bitten into a sour lemon. “… You’re the one who never uses it,” he finally grumbled.

Sung Hyunjae raised his eyebrows. “Do you miss my voice, too? I’ll happily greet you first thing in the mornings, then. If you promise not to take the earrings off and throw them away this time.” His voice was light and teasing, but Han Yoojin’s face reddened nonetheless. How long ago had that been? This bastard sure could hold a grudge.

“Nobody said anything about missing your voice,” he retorted.

He would’ve said something more, but Han Yoohyun cleared his throat loudly, shuffling between them until Han Yoojin had to take a step back to make room.

“Hyung, I also have something for you,” Han Yoohyun said, elbowing Sung Hyunjae’s face aside none too subtly.

He pulled out a small, wooden box, opening it to take out something that looked like a small, glass-blown lizard. Its orange coloring had a jewel-like tone, the craftsmanship exquisite and delicate.

Han Yoojin’s expression became complicated. “Yoohyun,” he said uncertainly, “this must’ve been—”

“Expensive, I know, hyung,” Han Yoohyun finished. “Even if I said it wasn’t much for Haeyeon now, you probably wouldn’t accept that. But all of that money doesn’t mean anything to me if I can’t even keep you safe with it.”

“… I understand.” Han Yoojin swallowed, his voice thick and unwieldy all of a sudden. “I won’t say anything more about that.”

Han Yoohyun nodded, looking pleased. “I asked Yoo Meongwoo to make some modifications to it,” he said, sounding rather proud of himself. “It’s not just a communication artifact. If you’re in trouble, it will also help. Give me your hand, hyung .”

Han Yoojin held out his hand, and when Han Yoohyun placed the lizard on top, it sank into his skin with a warm glow, leaving only the imprint of a lizard. The heat only came from where the artifact had made contact with his skin, but it seemed to burrow throughout his body—a slow, creeping warmth that nestled into his chest and crawled into the corners of his eyes. His vision blurred all of a sudden, and when he went to wipe his eyes, his hand came away wet with tears. Shit.

“Hyung?” Han Yoohyun asked in alarm.

Han Yoojin shook his head. “It’s nothing,” he squeezed out, throwing his arms around his baby brother in a tight hug. “I love it. Really.”

It was so warm that it almost felt uncomfortable, unreal. He could still remember keenly those five years that had been unmade, when no one had cared if he’d lived or died. Of course, rationally, he understood now that Han Yoohyun must have still been looking after him, in his own way, but that didn’t erase the sharp loneliness that had been carved into his being.

Han Yoohyun seemed to melt at his words, returning his hug with a tight squeeze.

“Ah, no fair!” Bak Yerim exclaimed. “I want to give you one, too, ahjussi! Just wait, I’ll earn enough and buy one that’s way nicer than this!”

Han Yoojin laughed, trying to smooth out the ugly cracking in his voice. “Buy the rest of your gear first, Yerim,” he told her. “You’ll be able to earn money faster that way.”

“… Fine,” Bak Yerim said glumly. “I have to save up for a baby monster of my own, too.”

“That’s right,” Han Yoojin agreed. “Our Yerim is so responsible.”

“Hyung,” Han Yoohyun sulked. “She wouldn’t have a job if not for me.”

Han Yoojin could only smile helplessly, patting his cheek fondly. “You know that’s not true. Our Yerim is so talented. But I already know our Yoohyun is also responsible, hmm?”

Han Yoohyun seemed somewhat assuaged by the praise, but Peace, who’d been napping in the corner, chose that precise moment to yawn and stretch before padding over with a demanding meow. Behind them, Sung Hyunjae exhaled pointedly. “I’ll have to try twice as hard just to compete with the young master and young miss, I see.”

Compete at what? A competition of wealth? Rare artifacts? No one wants to compete with you at something like that, okay, Partner? Before Han Yoojin could say anything, though, a knock at the door interrupted his thoughts.

“Pardon me, Your Grace,” came a muffled voice from outside the door. “May I speak to you for a moment?”

Immediately, the room fell silent. Folding his arms, Sung Hyunjae sighed dramatically before calling, “Enter.”

The door swung open, and the captain of the royal guard stepped in. Almost every elite-rank that Han Yoojin had seen was tall—and Yerim was bound to grow much more as well—and Song Taewon was no exception. In contrast to his menacing bulk, though, his tone was as polite as humanly possible, and his movements subdued.

Upon entering, he paused for just a moment, a flash of surprise and confusion on his face as he took in the small crowd in the room. It might’ve been his imagination, but Han Yoojin thought Song Taewon’s gaze lingered on him for just a moment, heavy and difficult to read. However, Song Taewon recovered his composure quickly, giving a deep bow to both Han Yoohyun and Sung Hyunjae each.

“Your Graces,” he greeted hesitantly. “… Am I interrupting?”

“Obviously,” Sung Hyunjae answered.

“Yes,” Han Yoohyun said curtly at the same time.

“Not at all,” Han Yoojin quickly interrupted. “What’s the issue, Captain?”

Song Taewon froze, the wrinkle in between his eyebrows deepening by the second as his eyes darted between the three of them. Taking pity on him, Han Yoojin elbowed Yoohyun, then stomped on Sung Hyunjae’s expensive leather shoe.

“… I can spare the good captain a few moments of my time,” Sung Hyunjae relented unhappily. Han Yoohyun followed suit with a sullen nod.

After another pause, Song Taewon finally spoke. “Duke Seseong, Your Grace. I’m here to confirm the matter of Duke Haeyeon’s entry into the palace, since he was admitted provisionally without an invitation.”

Sung Hyunjae raised an eyebrow. “As you can see, I’m speaking with him, and I’ve yet to kick him out. So you may consider it confirmed.”

Song Taewon gave a short nod. “Thank you, Your Grace.” He didn’t move.

“Was there something else?” Sung Hyunjae asked with amusement.

Song Taewon seemed to pause for a moment to deliberate, but eventually, he nodded. “Citizen Han Yoojin,” he said politely. “If I could speak to you for a moment. This is a matter regarding the kingdom’s security.”

Han Yoohyun frowned and stepped in front of him, but Han Yoojin’s stomach churned uneasily at the quiet statement. He managed to remain outwardly composed, patting Han Yoohyun’s arm comfortingly before stepping forward, but he didn’t even make it halfway across the room before Sung Hyunjae stopped him next, wrapping an arm around his shoulders.

“I hope our good captain will remember to be gentle when conversing,” Sung Hyunjae said, his gaze fixed levelly on Song Taewon. “I don’t appreciate it when a hand is laid on what’s mine.”

“Who’s yours?” Han Yoojin muttered out of habit, but neither Song Taewon nor Sung Hyunjae responded.

“Harming civilians is against the royal guard’s code of honor,” Song Taewon said flatly.

“And it’s reassuring to see that Captain Song remains so honorable.” Sung Hyunjae’s cool smile didn’t relax, but he did release Han Yoojin’s shoulders. Skin prickling from the collective stares of the room’s occupants, Han Yoojin followed Song Taewon out and let the door swing shut behind them.

“Please follow me to my office,” Song Taewon said stiffly, before turning to lead him down a short series of elegantly decorated hallways. 

The captain’s office itself was rather humble, sparsely furnished aside from a plain desk and a simple bookshelf stuffed with official-looking documents. It was so bare, in fact, that it was hard to resist feeling a little sorry for him. No matter how you looked at it, he was the captain of the royal guard, after all—the most illustrious position that a knight of the kingdom could aspire to. It wouldn’t hurt to have nicer curtains or a little ornamental vase with flowers, would it, Captain Song? Oblivious to Han Yoojin’s musings, Song Taewon simply sat down in his own plain, wooden chair before gesturing to the chair opposite of the desk for Han Yoojin to sit in.

“I suppose I should feel honored, that the busy Captain Song has time to speak with me,” Han Yoojin said lightly, taking a seat.

Song Taewon frowned slightly. “You look to be in good health,” he stated. It was a neutral observation, neither joy nor displeasure in his statement.

“… Captain Song isn’t trying to curse me with sickness, I hope?” Han Yoojin joked.

“For unawakened civilians, prolonged exposure to the unmitigated presence of elite-ranks can cause stress, anxiety, and emotional distress, including physical effects as severe as headaches, nausea, fatigue, shortness of breath…”

Han Yoojin contemplated the list. “Rank aside, prolonged exposure to Sung Hyunjae’s personality alone could cause all of that,” he remarked.

Song Taewon’s frown deepened, but he didn’t respond. Finally, after a few moments of silence, he sighed. “When Duke Seseong requested to be in charge of your protection as an eyewitness to the late king’s murder, I was opposed,” he said bluntly.

Han Yoojin blinked. That was news to him. “Not because of his charming way with words, I assume.”

Song Taewon’s fingers drummed against the surface of the table. “I suspect…” He hesitated. “No, it would be improper of me to speak officially of personal suspicions. Nevertheless, with Duke Seseong’s proximity to the case, it’s improper for him to be handling the witness’ arrangements.”

“… I see. So he bulldozed his way through that arrangement, as usual,” Han Yoojin said dryly. “But, I heard that the case has been put aside for the moment. Is there a reason you’re bringing this up now, Captain Song?”

It could have been interpreted as a subtle threat, but there was something about the way Song Taewon was speaking to him that gave him a different impression—though he couldn’t put his finger on what, exactly.

Song Taewon was silent for a moment longer before he finally spoke. “If you would like responsibility for your protection to be transferred back to the royal guard, I would be able to do so, as long as I have your explicit request,” he stated.

It was such an unexpected direction to the conversation that Han Yoojin burst out laughing. “Do I seem very unhappy with the current arrangements?”

“Citizen Han Yoojin,” Song Taewon insisted sternly, a deep knit in his brow. “It is… difficult to express in an official capacity, but Duke Seseong is a dangerous person. He is capable of things that may be difficult for a civilian to fathom.”

But so am I, Han Yoojin thought. Though he couldn’t say that out loud.

“I grew up in a ducal household on the Wall, Captain Song,” Han Yoojin said with amusement. “I’m hardly an average civilian. And I don’t scare easily.”

Song Taewon stared at him for a few moments, as if he were speaking some incomprehensible language. “Sometimes, there is wisdom in fear,” he said gravely. Without warning, the pressure in the room began to increase, the very air starting to weigh down on his shoulders.

Han Yoojin narrowed his eyes. Song Taewon’s aura was distinctly different from Sung Hyunjae’s—rigid as steel, where Sung Hyunjae’s felt like the sharp prick of static. In terms of force, though, there was no comparison—and there was a restrained quality to Song Taewon’s aura even now, as if he was still keeping himself in check.

Should he try to act like he’d been properly cowed by the display of strength? Han Yoojin wondered. It was smart to keep a few cards up your sleeve at times. But somehow, the thought left a bitter taste in his mouth.

“This is a very strange way to show your care for your fellow citizen, Captain Song,” Han Yoojin said coolly. “But let’s entertain your idea for a moment. In less than half a day, Sung Hyunjae is going to become king. And who does the royal guard report to?”

Song Taewon hesitated. “The guard’s duty is not just to the king, but the kingdom,” he said in a monotone voice, as if reciting from a book. “Including the protection of civilians from harm.”

“I see,” Han Yoojin said dryly. “Then, suppose Sung Hyunjae did intend harm on me, and he gave you the order to do so—which would you follow? Your duty, or your orders?”

Song Taewon’s face scrunched in a look of deep focus, as if he was truly, seriously considering the question. Though he sounded pained, he finally did conclude, in a low, resolute voice, “Duty.”

“How commendable,” Han Yoojin praised. “You’ve thought about it so earnestly that I can’t possibly doubt your sincerity, Captain Song. But since you’ve already so honorably resolved yourself to acting outside of your orders to protect my well-being, it sounds like whether my case is officially transferred to your jurisdiction is functionally irrelevant.” He flashed Song Taewon a tooth-rotting smile. “I’m pleased that we could come to an agreement on the matter so quickly. Thank goodness we have such a dependable captain of the guard to protect us. As a poor, innocent, defenseless citizen, I’m really quite reassured. Well, if that’s all, then I’ll be on my way.”

He stood up quickly, patting some imaginary dust off his clothes before reaching for the door handle, but before he could turn it, Song Taewon called out to him again.

“Citizen Han Yoojin,” he said gravely. Han Yoojin’s hand paused on the handle. “This is a serious matter. Please answer honestly. Has the duke of Seseong ever threatened or coerced you to obtain your cooperation?”

“Yes, of course?” Han Yoojin answered without blinking. “All the time. But when he’s resorting to threats, it usually means that he’s feeling rather at the end of his rope, so in a way, isn’t it a little cute?”

Song Taewon’s visible frown was practically carved into his face at this point, but Han Yoojin continued speaking as if he hadn’t noticed. 

“But if we had to compare, I would say that my threats are worse. Since I usually mean what I say, after all. Though, last time, I did tell him that I’d switch the bottles and labels on the ingredients in his private kitchen, but when I thought about the food waste, my heart ached a little, so I didn’t go through with it. Anyways, I’m confessing my crimes, so what do you say, Captain Song?” He held out his wrists. “Do I need to be arrested for the use of threats and coercion against the future king?”

After a long, heavy sigh, Song Taewon lifted a hand to his forehead, rubbing it wearily. “No. That won’t be necessary. Thank you for your…” He paused, but eventually squeezed out, “cooperation.”

Really, Han Yoojin was starting to feel a little bad for him. He was so uptight and serious, he seemed like the type who’d get pushed around by Sung Hyunjae too easily.

“Then, take care of yourself, Captain Song,” Han Yoojin said earnestly. “Make sure to take all your vacation days, and don’t do voluntary overtime. Even if you’re told to do overtime, you should ask to get paid double. And liven up your office a little, won’t you? Don’t tell me you can’t get some discretionary funds from your department? I’m all for living frugally, but looking at this, I would start to suspect that you’ve been the target of workplace bullying, you know?”

“... Appropriation of the guard’s funds for personal use is strictly forbidden,” Song Taewon said wearily.

“How is it for personal use? It’s for your office, isn’t it?” Han Yoojin scolded. “Did your previous superior say so? Well, rest assured, Sung Hyunjae isn’t the type to skimp on things like that. Seseong’s employee benefits are actually quite good. That’s why the rate of employee satisfaction there is high, even though the person himself is… like that.”

He gave Song Taewon a reassuring smile. If not for the desk separating them, he would even have patted him on the back, but Song Taewon only pinched the bridge of his nose with another weary sigh.

“Thank you for your input,” he said firmly. “However, discussion of the royal guard’s budget with outsiders is prohibited. Please have a nice day.”

Oh, so now he was being driven away? Fine, fine, the good captain of the guard was a busy man.

“Alright, then. But keep in mind what I said,” Han Yoojin told him. “And while you’re at it, consider adopting a cute, fluffy pet for stress relief, too.”

Without waiting for Song Taewon’s response, he turned the door handle, but before he could pull, the door swung open of its own accord. The culprit was visible immediately, that obnoxious, perfect, ever-present smile on his face.

“Are you and our good Captain Song done speaking?” Sung Hyunjae asked pleasantly. “I grew tired of waiting, so I came to pick up my dear partner.”

“Are you a dog with separation anxiety?” Han Yoojin derided. “It’s only been a few minutes.”

“That’s a few minutes too long to be apart.”

Without warning, Sung Hyunjae scooped his knees up from under him, and Han Yoojin nearly let out an undignified yelp as he instinctively clung to Sung Hyunjae’s shoulders for balance. Ah. So the ‘picking up’ he’d mentioned had been literal.

“Sung Hyunjae! This is the palace,” Han Yoojin hissed.

“It is the palace,” Sung Hyunjae agreed beatifically. “How astute. And technically, the palace will soon be my home, which means that it will soon be your home, which means that we might as well make ourselves at home.”

The thread of reason connecting his words was so forced that Han Yoojin could only surrender in flabbergasted silence.

“Then, have a nice day, Captain Song,” Sung Hyunjae said cheerfully. Song Taewon, for his part, looked like he’d swallowed a fly, offering no comment as the door swung closed behind them.

“So?” Han Yoojin asked pointedly, once they’d turned the corner and entered a fairly disused hallway of the palace. “Did something happen? You didn’t come all the way here just because you missed me.”

Sung Hyunjae raised an eyebrow. “How cold,” he said mildly. “Am I not allowed to seek out my beloved partner’s company when I miss him?” He paused. “It is true that there’s news, though.” His voice lowered to a hushed murmur. “Do you remember the unfriendly fellows who insisted on your company two nights ago?”

Two nights ago, so, the night of the kidnapping. He was referring to Seo Minseong and his underlings, then. Han Yoojin nodded to indicate his understanding.

“The main guest was never found, but I had his friends escorted back for a short, comfortable stay,” Sung Hyunjae continued. Well, of course Seo Minseong had never been found. He was dead, probably charred beyond recognition. As for how ‘comfortable’ of a stay the others were being subjected to… It would depend on how quickly and how much valuable information they could give, probably.

“Did they have any interesting stories to tell?” Han Yoojin asked carefully.

“Fascinating ones,” Sung Hyunjae said in a low voice. “They claimed to have been receiving correspondence from the previous owner of the house.”

‘Previous owner of the house…’ Han Yoojin had to turn the phrase around in his mind a few times, but when a suitable match occurred to him, he couldn’t suppress a sharp intake of breath. He shot Sung Hyunjae a look of disbelief, but Sung Hyunjae only gave him a slow nod in reply.

Choi Sukwon?

“When I paid him a visit to wish him good health,” Han Yoojin said slowly, “I saw that he was fast asleep. Did you?”

Sung Hyunjae gave a short nod. “I confirmed it.”

It was possible that one of them might have made a mistake, but since both of them had verified Choi Sukwon’s death, it didn’t seem likely that he’d survived. But the dead couldn’t just come back to life, either. He would know.

“If the owner thought the house still belonged to him, he would have tried to get it back,” Han Yoojin mulled. Since this alleged Choi Sukwon hadn’t outright accused him of murder or come back to reassert his claim to the throne, it meant that he wasn’t able to. So it had to be a fake… right? “Is he even still in the Kingdom?”

“Unlikely,” Sung Hyunjae answered. “If he’s abroad, then he’s probably with the acquaintances of our unfriendly guests.”

House Brix’s contacts had been from the Isles, so this alleged Choi Sukwon would likely be hiding there. It was rather shocking news, he had to admit. Certainly urgent enough to warrant being pulled aside on a busy coronation day.

“Yoojin,” Sung Hyunjae murmured, leaning forward to speak directly into his ear. “Be on your guard around the foreign dignitaries. They’ll be interested in you.”

Han Yoojin sucked in a breath. True, even though they’d tried to keep it contained, rumors about the monster rearing facility would have begun spreading abroad by now. The other countries would likely want to assess the potential threat—and potential gain. It was best not to appear hostile or aggressive, but they couldn’t risk looking weak, either.

“I’ll be careful,” he promised.

Sung Hyunjae smiled wryly. “I wonder if my dear partner will ever manage to be a little less popular.”

Han Yoojin snorted. “When the Wall is fixed, maybe.” The demand for monsters would go down after that.

“Somehow, I doubt it.” Sung Hyunjae’s palm glided along his back, propping him up just high enough for heated lips to descend onto his. 

Given the urgency of their schedule, he’d expected a quick kiss at most, but even after doing a thorough tour of his mouth, Sung Hyunjae seemed unsatisfied, his nibbles trailing down to the side of Han Yoojin’s jaw to his neck. With a gasp, his tensed muscles lost the fight against gravity, his head falling backwards to give Sung Hyunjae’s teeth unfettered access to his throat. It was taken with enthusiasm, playful bites that took full advantage of what little skin his collar didn’t cover and sent small shivers down his spine.

The distant sound of footsteps reminded Han Yoojin that they were still in some palace hallway where anyone could chance upon them. “Don’t you have a coronation to prepare for?” He hissed, pressing his hands against Sung Hyunjae’s wandering mouth.

Sung Hyunjae blinked innocently at him. A soft nibble landed on his palm, and Han Yoojin withdrew his hands at lightning speed. Damn, this bastard had picked up some annoying tricks.

“The coronation,” Sung Hyunjae repeated, as if he’d just remembered its existence. “Mm, I suppose there was such a thing. Is it very important that I attend?”

“If Your Future Majesty doesn’t think so, then I suppose not,” Han Yoojin said tartly. “I’ll go out and tell the crowd that you’ve decided not to show up, and I’ll accept all of their gifts and oaths of fealty in your place.”

“Oh?” Sung Hyunjae’s eyes glittered. “If my lovely partner is offering to handle all of the troublesome matters in my place, I’m not sure why I should be opposed.”

“Yes, yes, I’ll handle all of the troublesome things for you,” Han Yoojin told him. “The royal purse, the guard, the council… up to sitting on the throne and wearing the crown in your place. What’s an auspicious day to schedule a coup d’état, do you think? Maybe it can be your birthday present next year?”

Sung Hyunjae laughed, leaving a soft peck on his nose. “Why wait? Next month is as good a time as any. I promise to be a particularly, shall we say, cooperative and attentive political trophy.”

Han Yoojin slapped him lightly. “Who said I’d be keeping you as a political trophy? Manual labor is all you’re good for.”

“Why choose between them?” Sung Hyunjae hummed. “Shall I give you a preview of my skills? You can take your time slowly making up your mind.”

Han Yoojin’s breath stuttered. Fuck, why was this guy like this? If not for the fact that his personality was this way, he should be the one trying to save the world, or something. Maybe he’d already have succeeded.

“Co-ro-na-tion,” he grit out.

Sung Hyunjae sighed ruefully, finally putting him down on solid ground. “On second thought, I should go earn my keep, after all,” he said plaintively. “If I became penniless, I’m afraid that my practical-minded partner wouldn’t give me a second glance.”

“Obviously,” Han Yoojin scoffed. “Your wallet is your only attractive feature, after all.”

A light smile played on Sung Hyunjae’s stupid, perfect lips. “Is that an objective statement, too? Then, objectively, where does it rank in relation to my face?”

Han Yoojin opened his mouth to retort, but for once, he found no automatic response forthcoming. Face flaming, he placed both hands on Sung Hyunjae’s back and pushed. “Just go.”

Sung Hyunjae’s answering chuckle was as melodic as it was annoying. “As my dear partner commands.”

Did this bastard always have to have the last word?

By the time he returned to the earlier lounge, Han Yoohyun and Yerim were already gone. Only Peace was still there, curled up one of the expensive, velvet-upholstered sofas that was sure to be covered in hairs by now. At Han Yoojin’s approach, he yawned and stretched out his furry, orange limbs, claws extending mercilessly into the cloth with an audible puncturing sound. Han Yoojin winced.

“Peace,” he sighed. “Dad doesn’t make enough money for you to go around shredding antiques.”

Peace meowed at him innocently, and he could only sigh again and stretch out his arms. Without hesitation, the orange cat leaped into them, settling snugly into his hold.

“It’s okay,” Han Yoojin said, resigned. “What’s the worst that could happen? Even if all of my belongings get repossessed, it’s just getting tossed out onto the streets.” He patted Peace’s fuzzy head reassuringly. “Yoohyun will still keep you fed, so no need to worry.”

Though the main character of the event still had to prepare, the rest of the guests had already arrived in the great hall by now. With all of the great lords and foreign dignitaries in attendance, it was a fantastic time for the guests to make potential allies and sound out rivals. The din and clamor of the great hall greeted his ears as he stepped inside, scouring the room for familiar faces.

He didn’t manage to find Yoo Meongwoo or the kids immediately, but he was soon approached by a young man with fair, golden hair who couldn’t have been older than Han Yoohyun.

“Hello,” the young man said politely. “I’m Noah Luire, of the Republic. May I have the honor of your name?” He spoke fluently, only the barest hints of an accent in his voice.

“Han Yoojin,” Han Yoojin told him. “Of Haeyeon.”

“It’s a pleasure to meet you.” The young man smiled angelically, giving an elegant bow. “Should I address you with a title…? I apologize, I haven’t been to the Kingdom very frequently.”

“I don’t have a title,” Han Yoojin said, a little self-consciously. Perhaps it would be more accurate to say that he didn’t have a title ‘yet,’ but… it felt a little self-important to speak that way. Like those drunk men in the gambling parlors who’d insist that they were just a dice throw away from being rich. “It’s a little complicated, but, umm… Anyways, it’s fine to address me by name.”

“I see,” Noah said brightly, something like relief in his voice as his shoulders relaxed ever so slightly. “Then, please call me by my name as well.”

Noah, Noah Luire… Something about the name tickled at Han Yoojin’s memory. It was generally considered polite to mask one’s aura to some extent at events like this, so it was difficult to tell exactly how strong he was. Of course, there was an art to that, too—many of the mid-ranking attendees would let just a bit of their aura seep through, to impress their strength during negotiations. If you didn’t give off any presence at all, you could be seen as weak. Unless you were someone as established as Moon Hyuna or Sung Hyunjae, of course—in their case, whether they masked their aura or not was completely up to their mood that day.

“Oh,” Han Yoojin said, recollection dawning on him. “Noah Luire—I heard that you’re the youngest sitting senator of the Republic, aren’t you? That’s quite the feat,” he praised. “You must be talented.”

Noah flushed faintly, eyes cast downwards with a complicated expression on his delicate features. “... You’re very kind to say so,” he said finally. “Though, I don’t plan on holding the office much longer.”

Han Yoojin looked at him with surprise. As far as he was aware, the senators of the Republic rarely retired. Their offices were held for decades, passed around between a handful of influential families who held the reins of the country in their hands. However, the young man looked like he didn’t want to discuss the topic any further, so Han Yoojin held his tongue.

“Would you like to pet Peace?” He asked, holding out the orange cat. In truth, Peace was getting a bit heavy, so he was still cradled close to Han Yoojin’s chest, but the important thing was the intent.

Noah’s eyes sparkled at the offer. “May I?” He asked in a hushed tone.

“As long as Peace doesn’t mind.”

At the prompting, Peace opened one eye lazily as Noah approached, then closed it again in tacit permission. Noah’s face turned pink with delight as he stroked the orange fur, petting his soft tail.

“So this is the fire manticore.” A loud, booming voice rang from behind them, and Peace’s ears flicked irritably at the volume. Han Yoojin turned reluctantly to look at the source of the voice. It looked like an annoying one had come.

The new arrival was a tall man with an angular face and a wild mane of golden hair. His stature dripped with brazen confidence, and he was flanked by a small group of attendants attired in the same loud, flashy gold that he was. Really? Han Yoojin couldn’t help thinking. Matching outfits, at a coronation? It was a little tacky.

The man reached for Peace’s head without so much as a word of greeting, only pulling back at Peace’s defensive hiss.

“He doesn’t like loud noises and strangers,” Han Yoojin said pointedly, more admonishment than explanation.

The man paused, his spirit not diminished in the least as he let out a booming laugh. “Truly the prideful spirit of a lion.” His gaze was almost hungry as he stared at Peace, and Han Yoojin couldn’t help but angle the fluffy bundle in his arms away. Don’t covet our family’s baby boy.

“It’s polite to give your name when meeting someone,” Han Yoojin reminded. Of course, given his eccentric bearing and his distinctive entourage, the man’s identity was obvious at a glance, but that was no reason to dispense with good manners.

The man looked a little thrown by his comment at first, but he quickly recovered after a beat. “Amaterasu Shishio, Commander of the Isles,” he said, flashing a gracious smile. “And you are Han Yoojin, rumored monster tamer and the imminent king’s betrothed.”

It had all sounded correct up until the end, so… What?

“... Pardon?” Han Yoojin asked, dumbfounded.

“You are forgiven,” Shishio said generously.

“What? No, that’s not—” Damn, how was this guy somehow more irritating than Sung Hyunjae? “I meant, we’re not—nobody’s betrothed. Where did you even hear that?”

A shallow knit appeared between the commander’s eyes, and he turned to the subordinate behind him, conversing in the language of the Isles in short, quick whispers. Finally, he straightened up, the confidence returning to his expression. “A slip in translation,” he said with an understanding nod of his head. “In our culture, that is how we refer to those who are promised to be married.”

“... It’s the same here,” Han Yoojin said, exasperated. “But I’m saying that we’re not.”

Shishio and the subordinate seemed to look him up and down carefully before exchanging another look, but this time, the attendant only shrugged. Eventually, the Isles commander must have deemed the misunderstanding insignificant, because he quickly moved on to a new topic.

“The gift,” he ordered imperiously, holding out his hand. Another one of the attendants pulled out a lacquered box and placed it in his outstretched hand, and he lifted the lid to reveal its contents, a glittering gold collar encrusted with precious gems. “A token of this Isles’ admiration,” he explained, holding the box out to Han Yoojin expectantly. “For the fine young lion that you’ve raised.”

Han Yoojin tried not to let the distaste show on his face, but shit, that thing was really too gaudy. He kept the smile on his face with some difficulty, the corners of his lips frozen in place. “Peace doesn’t really like metal collars,” he said politely. “Or heavy ones. And without flame resistance, it might melt.”

The Isles commander’s face fell a little at the words, and he stroked his chin, as if in deep thought. Finally, he gave another nod, closing the box and handing it back to the attendant. “It is the right of a great creature to choose to whom it shall submit,” he said gravely. “Very well. We shall be meeting again soon, Han Yoojin.”

And just like that, without anyone else’s input, he left as suddenly as he’d arrived.

Before Han Yoojin had time to contemplate anything else, the blare of trumpets announced the beginning of the ceremony. The guests in the room quickly began to break out of their respective conversations, lining up along the center of the room in a vague semblance of rank. With the establishment of some approximation of order, Han Yoojin was finally able to spot some familiar faces.

“Ahjussi, ahjussi!” Bak Yerim called in a hushed tone, pulling him over to where she and Yoo Meongwoo were standing near the back of the room. “There you are! We’ve been looking for you!”

Yoo Meongwoo greeted him as well with a lopsided smile, his arms full with the large box he was carrying. Han Yoohyun’s scowling face was visible near the front with the other dukes, though he turned and scanned the crowd until he met Han Yoojin’s eyes, a bit of his displeasure melting away.

The ceremony started shortly, beginning with no small amount of fanfare and a short instrumental opening. The crown and scepter bearers entered solemnly, placing the ceremonial items in their pillowed seats with much fanfare on stands arranged next to the throne. Next was Sung Hyunjae’s entry—and no matter how much one might dislike him, it was difficult to argue that he didn’t look like he was born for the position, regality dripping from his every finger, draped in Seseong’s rich red and gold as he crossed the front of the room. But, um, was that painfully bored expression on his face really necessary?

Han Yoojin hadn’t attended the coronation in that other timeline, but given that it was Sung Hyunjae, he supposed nobody would have commented even if he’d done it a little eccentrically. Still, he felt a bit of apprehension in his chest as Sung Hyunjae strode lazily up to the throne and sighed audibly as he picked up the crown, examining it with a critical eye as if it were a wilted cabbage at the market. The master of ceremonies stood nervously to the side, shooting anxious glances Sung Hyunjae’s way, but he was too cowed to speak up or even raise his head.

“Very well, then,” Sung Hyunjae exhaled, finally placing the crown on his head and picking up the scepter. “Citizens of the Kingdom—my fellow lords and ladies, our honorable knights, and the good common folk—in accepting this crown, so too, do I vow to accept the power and the responsibility of shouldering the weight of the lives of our people… Goodness, was this speech always so long?”

But despite his small outburst and his rather monotone delivery, he did make it through the rest of the coronation oath and speech without further complaint. Han Yoojin let out a breath of relief. Perhaps he’d been overthinking things.

The speeches, unfortunately, were the easy part. The vast majority of the ceremony would be taken up by each of the attendees presenting their oath of fealty—or, in the case of the foreign guests, their well-wishes—along with a coronation gift. It was customary to proceed in order of rank, so Haeyeon, the oldest House in the Kingdom besides Seseong, was first.

Surprisingly, Sung Hyunjae’s expression improved somewhat when Han Yoohyun approached, gritting his teeth as he swore his loyalty in a pained voice and tossed his gift directly at Sung Hyunjae’s face. Erm, Sung Hyunjae managed to catch it neatly, so it seemed like it was okay. But next up was Moon Hyuna, and then the marquesses, and Sung Hyunjae’s mood began dropping visibly again with each subsequent guest, until he finally stood up suddenly three marquesses in.

“That’s enough,” he said with a sigh.

“Y… Your Majesty?” The master of ceremonies asked, bewildered.

“Isn’t it all the same?” He mused. “Hearing the same thing over and over—I can’t be the only one to find it tiring. Hmm, in fact, let’s simplify it even further. If any of my subjects here today do not intend to swear fealty to me, please raise your hands.”

He ended the declaration with a beatific smile, as if oblivious to the stunned silence in the room.

“None? Fantastic. That’s concluded, then. Ah, my good captain of the guard.”

At the mention of his title, Song Taewon, who had been standing guard quietly at the side, stepped forward, alert.

“Baron Bak Sanghoon and Viscount Kim Woojae,” Sung Hyunjae said breezily, pointing with perfect precision at two guests in the dense crowd. “Please have their gifts confiscated and examined.”

The two lords whose names had been picked out of the crowd paled dramatically, horror written plainly on their faces. It wasn’t difficult to guess that there was something wrong with their gifts. Whatever dissatisfaction was brewing in the room vanished instantly, replaced with tense apprehension as Song Taewon and a few of his guards stepped forward, taking the gifts out of the hands of the two named lords and escorting them away.

Was this the whole point? Han Yoojin wondered. A dramatic show of power to crush dissenters early? Surely, it would’ve made news if the coronation had proceeded so chaotically last time. But before he could wonder further, Sung Hyunjae’s gaze turned to lock directly with his. Han Yoojin froze.

Sung Hyunjae smiled.

“Yes, now that I think about it, it’s the common folk whose voices I should hear the most, isn’t it?” He remarked. “After all, they’re the ones who truly make up the heart of this kingdom. Let’s do that, then, starting with, hmm… esteemed craftsman Yoo Meongwoo.”

Beside him, Yoo Meongwoo stiffened. The silence in the room stretched on, and Han Yoojin gave him an encouraging pat on the shoulder. Finally, taking a deep breath, Yoo Meongwoo stepped out onto the carpeted path that led to the steps before the throne, kneeling on one knee.

“Your Majesty,” he greeted. “I… cannot say that I understand a great deal about governance, or politics, but I put my faith fully in the people that I have come to know.” He hesitated. “Which is why I put my faith in you, too. Because I believe that the care that you’ve shown to my good friend is your true face.”

When he was done speaking, he turned his head back to give Han Yoojin an awkward smile. Han Yoojin, for his part, wanted nothing more than to crawl into a hole and die of embarrassment. To make matters worse, Sung Hyunjae had turned to look at him, too, and there were more than a few curious whispers and glances directed his way now. Please, can you not involve innocent bystanders in your heartfelt speeches?

“Therefore, Your Majesty, my gift to you is a gift of the earth.” Yoo Meongwoo unwrapped the box that he’d brought, revealing the exquisite wrought silver vase that he’d brought. Not only was the shape and design elegant and tasteful, but the runes engraved in it had been worked into an intricate design, as functional as it was beautiful. “This vase is an artifact that I created in my forge. Anything placed in it will grow and flourish twice as much for the care that it’s given.”

Sung Hyunjae accepted the vase carefully, a strange gentleness in his touch as he turned it in his hands, examining its surface. “Thank you,” he said, sounding oddly sincere. “I’ll treasure the gift.”

With another bow, Yoo Meongwoo rose and departed. Sung Hyunjae’s eyes scanned the crowd performatively, but after a single pass, he locked eyes with Han Yoojin again, a humorous smile playing on his lips.

“Our family’s young miss,” he called lightly. “Bak Yerim.”

“Don’t get ahead of yourself,” she grumbled. “We’re not family yet.” What do you mean ‘yet,’ Yerim? Don’t play along with his games. “Oh, right, I should call you Your Majesty and all, huh?”

Han Yoojin buried his face in his hands. Yerim, please be a little more mindful of the occasion. This isn’t the same as running into Sung Hyunjae near the unicorns’ stalls after dinner on a Monday night.

“There’s no need for formalities between family,” Sung Hyunjae said with amusement.

Bak Yerim snickered quietly. “Sure, sure.” She cleared her throat. “Do I have to make a speech and stuff, too? I didn’t really think of one, but, um…” She scratched her head. “ Ahjussi trusts you, I guess. And he seems happy around you. So I guess you’re alright.”

Was it too late to drop dead from humiliation?

“Anyways, here’s my present.” She pulled out a stack of books, the top one titled Gardening for Dummies. “Ahjussi said knowledge is the most valuable gift of all, so you won’t begrudge a poor, penniless kid, will you?”

“Your ahjussi is right,” Sung Hyunjae said, the corners of his eyes crinkling. “It’s good that you listen to him.”

“Exactly!” Bak Yerim beamed. “I listen very well. Unlike some people.” She cast a rather pointed look in Han Yoohyun’s direction, before giving Sung Hyunjae one last, sweeping bow and bouncing back to Han Yoojin’s side. He watched her return with a mix of pride and dread.

Shit.

There was only one commoner here left.

“Yoojin,” Sung Hyunjae called softly.

With every drag of his feet, Han Yoojin cursed Sung Hyunjae to the ends of the Wall and back. Couldn’t he have just had a nice, normal coronation? Under the usual circumstances, it would have taken hours to reach the end of the ceremony, and by then, most of the guests would be bored to tears or asleep on their feet. Nobody would have the energy to be staring at him with such intense focus.

“Your Majesty,” he said through gritted teeth, kneeling.

“My partner.” Even with his head lowered, Han Yoojin could hear the smile in his voice.

Partner.

All of a sudden, the word weighed heavy on his shoulders, multiplied by the gazes of the crowd. A pet was something you showed leniency and generosity toward, even when it was a nuisance. If Peace tore up the carpets, he would simply sigh and shake his head and forget about it when Peace made a cute face the next day. But a partner—a partner was an equal, a peer. Someone you could rely on, share burdens with. It meant carrying himself with the same assurance and poise as Sung Hyunjae, measuring up to the footsteps of someone already so impossibly accomplished.

Anxiety knotted in the pit of his stomach. Well, Sung Hyunjae had accepted the title even knowing his flaws, so he must have accepted that it would take some time for him to catch up, right? He wouldn’t change his mind the very next day and say, ‘Actually, sorry, I don’t want such an inferior partner. Let’s go back to how things were before’—would he?

Han Yoojin lifted his head slowly, meeting Sung Hyunjae’s gaze.

“Your Majesty,” he said evenly. “As you know, what I desire is pretty simple. I just want to live a peaceful life with the people I love. But, somehow—” He hesitated. “Somehow, I guess it’s become a little difficult to separate you from that. So…” He trailed off into silence, finally taking a deep breath. “So, please have a long and happy reign.”

He was too nervous to look at Sung Hyunjae’s reaction, so he simply turned and put two fingers against his mouth, whistling at the top of his lungs. At his call, the flap of wings rumbled quietly in the distance, growing louder from beyond the great hall’s wide double doors. The low murmur rippling through the crowd grew into loud cries and shouts as the two flying monsters burst through the open doors.

It was lucky that the great hall was so vast, the tall ceilings leaving plenty of room for Blue and Comet to wheel and dart through the air above them. Blue had reached full maturity only a few days before Han Yoojin had taken off, her graceful, sleek gryphon body making needlepoint turns with ease. Comet was still young and a little clumsy, having only recently hatched, but given how small and light she was, she had much more room to maneuver around obstacles and walls to make up for it.

As the two of them flew, the contents of the boxes strapped to their backs toppled free, letting a shower of bright pink flowers rain onto the crowd. Just like his waist pouch, the boxes were enchanted to hold much more than their dimensions should allow, so there were enough flowers to cover the floor densely with bright pink blossoms. By the time Han Yoojin turned back around, Sung Hyunjae had caught one of the flowers in his hand and was studying it intensely.

“These flowers are cut from a type of monster plant that was discovered in a ruins a few years ago and brought back for cultivation,” Han Yoojin explained. “Even when cut, they won’t wilt or die, and they can be replanted easily to propagate.” So even if you neglect them to death, they’ll be fine. “Your Majesty will be so busy from now on, I thought it best for you to have a hobby that doesn’t take up much time. Isn’t that right?”

In other words, don’t fool around so much, and make sure you do your job.

Sung Hyunjae twirled the flower in his hand, the corners of his mouth twitching increasingly upwards. “You’re right,” he said mirthfully. “With my dear partner by my side, I foresee much less time to spend on more tedious hobbies in the future.”

Pressing the flower to his nose, he inhaled deeply, the petals quivering tremulously with his breath. After pulling the flower away, he slowly let out the breath before stepping forward and bending down to tuck the stem behind Han Yoojin’s ear.

“Lovely,” Sung Hyunjae said with satisfaction. “A gift like this deserves one in return, don’t you think?”

“Your Majesty’s generosity is really unnecessary,” Han Yoojin said dryly.

“Unnecessary, perhaps, but happily given.” Sung Hyunjae retrieved the scepter from its resting place once more, running his fingertips over the slim handle. Then, in one smooth flick, he pointed it at Han Yoojin. “My dear partner,” he said with a gentle smile. “Will you swear your loyalty?”

Shit. Here? Now? He’d imagined doing this in a tiny room with just the bare minimum number of witnesses necessary to be legal. Still, now that the question had been asked so publicly, he had no choice but to bow his head in affirmation. With his head lowered, he could only feel, rather than see, the cool, weighted tip of the scepter as it touched his shoulder.

“Han Yoojin,” Sung Hyunjae said, his voice smooth and rich as the most luxurious of butters. “Do you swear to raise your sword in defense of the kingdom and its people in times of strife?”

“I swear it,” Han Yoojin answered, shoulders tense.

The scepter’s weight disappeared, returning to land on his other shoulder. “Do you swear to devote your sweat and your blood to the prosperity of the kingdom and its people in times of peace?”

“I swear it.”

The stiff texture of the scepter disappeared again, this time replaced by the touch of fingers on his cheek. Huh? Was this normally part of the ceremony?

“And will you take me as yours, to love and to cherish, to have and to hold, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and health, ‘til death do us part?”

“I sw—What?”

Han Yoojin’s head snapped up, and Sung Hyunjae let out a small, woeful sigh. “I’m still unwanted, I see. That’s well enough, I suppose. Our ceremony should be much grander than this, anyways.”

Out of the corner of his eye, Han Yoojin spotted Han Yoohyun’s furious face as he strained forward, held back only by the combined forces of Moon Hyuna and Song Taewon. Um… Sung Hyunjae, were you trying to get your own coronation blown up for fun?

“Then, in honor of your bravery and your services to the realm, I confer upon you the title of Earl, and the duty of stewardship of the Crescent Valley. May your days be long and filled with light.” Even though it was the usual stiff, formal script, the words were velvet-soft in Sung Hyunjae’s voice. “You may rise.”

“Thank you, Your Majesty.”

Han Yoojin stood back up with a bit of a wobble, legs sore from kneeling for so long. He gave a last, rigid bow and prepared to return to the crowd—and maybe try to calm Yoohyun down a little. But before he could take a full step, a hand hooked around his elbow, pulling him back.

“Where are you going, my dear partner?” Sung Hyunjae said with amusement. “We have a procession to sit for.”

… Please spare me.

Chapter Text

One did not argue with the king on the day of his coronation. It was simply not done. Even if one had grievances to address with any of his decisions, traditional wisdom dictated that, drastic emergencies notwithstanding, one ought to wait until at least the day after his coronation to pick that bone with him.

Of course, traditional wisdom had never encountered Sung Hyunjae, so Han Yoojin thought that he could be forgiven for arguing with him. Very extensively.

“What are you doing to the procession carriage?!” He asked in horror.

When Sung Hyunjae had ordered for the pink flowers strewn on the floor to be gathered up, Han Yoojin had, foolishly, assumed it to be for the purpose of cleaning—so he was utterly blindsided now, to see the procession carriage still in the process of being bedecked with vibrant blossoms of a certain familiar hue. Not only had the pink flowers been wound onto the carriage railings, they had even been woven over the red and gold ornaments and tapestries that should have proudly displayed Seseong’s crest.

“Does my partner not like it?” Sung Hyunjae asked with feigned surprise. “Even though I’ve had them add your favorite color.”

“It’s not my favorite color.”

“No? It’s quickly becoming mine.” Sung Hyunjae mused, his gaze drifting back to the carriage. “It looks different this way, doesn’t it?” He murmured. “From before.”

They were relatively innocuous words, but for some reason, Han Yoojin felt a chill run down his spine. “… Do you mean from this morning?” He asked, as casually as possible. “Or from Choi Sukwon’s coronation?”

Sung Hyunjae only smiled enigmatically, his expression giving nothing away. “I’m not sure I remember. But perhaps my clever partner does?”

Han Yoojin kept his face neutral, but the corners of his mouth were tight. Choi Sukwon’s procession carriage would have looked completely different, so there would be no comparison in the first place. And as for this morning—was there a point in mentioning such an obvious thing?

“Your Majesty should be careful,” Han Yoojin told him stiffly. “Perhaps the pressure of the job is making you go senile.”

“I’m lucky, then,” Sung Hyunjae said simply, “to have such a reliable partner to support me.”

Damn it. It was hard to refuse a statement like that, even as Sung Hyunjae dragged him ever closer to that awful, pink monstrosity of a procession carriage.

“It doesn’t even make sense for me to be up there.” He made one last, valiant effort to wriggle out of this bizarre responsibility that had somehow been thrust upon him. “Everyone is here to get a look at the face of their king. Nobody is coming to see me.”

Sung Hyunjae finally paused, turning to look at him curiously. “Do you really think no one wants to see you?” He asked with amusement, as if Han Yoojin were a child who’d said something charmingly silly. “Even if it’s just to get a glance at Peace on your shoulders, half of the kingdom is here to steal a glimpse.”

“Then just take Peace with you and leave me be,” Han Yoojin grumbled.

“That’s no good,” Sung Hyunjae rejected. “Only the genuine artifact will satisfy them. Otherwise, the rumors will continue to grow out of control.”

“… Fine,” Han Yoojin relented. “I would hate for all of those people to get their hopes up over nothing,” he said sarcastically.

Sung Hyunjae smiled, his sharp teeth flashing in the bright sunlight. “Exactly. They should understand as quickly as possible that my dear partner’s valuable attention is already thoroughly occupied.”

… For some reason, it felt like there was some kind of misalignment between their responses? But, regardless, at least Sung Hyunjae’s motives were now clear. It was just something like, ‘Don’t think about asking for any tamed monsters from us,’ wasn’t it? If Han Yoojin had been considering jumping ship, it would’ve been disadvantageous for him to limit his potential negotiation partners like that, but as things stood, he wasn’t going to abandon the Kingdom when Yoohyun was here, so reducing the number of potential distractions was beneficial to him, too.

Of course, having the resolution to do so was one thing, but actually sitting in the procession carriage was another. Despite his best efforts, his spine remained stiff and straight as a ruler, his rigid smile locked in place. Sung Hyunjae was waving to the crowd as naturally as if he were merely greeting an old acquaintance, both his expression and his presence perfectly reassuring. What, so he was fully capable of masking his aura to this extent? This absolute scam of a bastard.

“Yoojin.” Sung Hyunjae’s voice came from beside his ear as an arm wrapped around his waist and pulled him closer. “Relax. I’m afraid I’ll be suspected of holding you at knifepoint.”

The sparkle in his eye was light and teasing, interfering not in the least with his easy, natural gestures and waves to the crowd. Shouts and cheers accompanied them as the carriage continued at a slow, leisurely pace through the city. It was impossible not to feel envious, watching Sung Hyunjae’s seemingly innate poise and grace. And it was difficult not to feel like a lumbering toddler in comparison, sitting awkwardly like a lump of ugly coal in the seat beside him.

“It would serve you right,” Han Yoojin muttered. “Don’t you feel even a little guilty fooling all of these people into believing that you’re a perfectly fine gentleman? When you’re actually a crazy bastard.”

“What can I do?” Sung Hyunjae sighed pitifully. “Only my dear Yoojin knows what a bastard I am and still loves me.”

“Who exactly loves you?” Han Yoojin refuted. “Let’s set the record straight right now. If I were offered one bushel of turnips in exchange for you at the market, I’d take it in a heartbeat.”

Sung Hyunjae hummed. “So, in other words, until the offer for a bushel of turnips is made, you’ll acknowledge that I’m yours?”

With a huff, Han Yoojin turned his head away, toward the crowd outside. “In the way that a pig belongs to the butcher in the minutes before it’s slaughtered, sure.”

“How romantic.” Sung Hyunjae’s lips rose in a playful arc. “If my dear Yoojin were to be the one to hold me at knifepoint, I would be quite thrilled.”

Han Yoojin clicked his tongue disdainfully. “Are you that eager to be a pig?”

“As long as my partner thinks they’re cute. Oink, oink.”

Han Yoojin turned his head back to shoot Sung Hyunjae a glare, but as soon as he did so, he was met with the bright, mirthful gleam of golden eyes curved into little moons, a dusting of rosy laughter in his cheeks as the corners of his mouth continued to try to climb upwards. Fuck, there must have been something wrong with his eyes, because Han Yoojin couldn’t help thinking that it was a little cute.

Only a little, though.

With a laugh, Sung Hyunjae leaned forward and kissed the tip of his nose. “How is it? A little more relaxed now?”

Han Yoojin’s lips settled into a stubborn line, but, fine, it was hard to feel as anxious when irritation at Sung Hyunjae was occupying most of his attention. He turned back to the crowd, giving them a wave that hopefully only looked a little bit awkward.

Close to the front of the audience, he spotted a little girl with a stuffed doll in a bizarrely familiar orange hue—was that meant to be Peace? He smiled at her, and her eyes widened in response as she held up the doll and bounced up and down excitedly. It wasn’t so bad after all, he found, when the crowd was filled with friendly faces like that. If he could get used to this, would he be a little closer, maybe, to being the caliber of partner that Sung Hyunjae would want?

Unlike the dull, formal ceremony that had taken place in the palace, the royal capital was bustling with celebration and cheer. Buying the goodwill of the common people was, in many respects, both simpler and more complex than buying that of the aristocrats’. Dramatic pageants were put on one after another in the great city square, and festival booths lined the streets, distributing delicious, fresh meals to the coronation-goers on royal coin. The procession was no small part of that—both a rare chance for the people to see their king in the flesh, and a valuable opportunity for Sung Hyunjae to win his subjects over. His gestures, his demeanor—the most inconsequential of moments could become the Kingdom’s lasting memory of the event. No matter how whimsically he was pretending to act, it wasn’t an occasion he could afford to look down on like some roadside weed.

Of course, worrying about Sung Hyunjae was an exercise in superfluity. Wherever the carriage went, it was accompanied by delighted cheers and screams. Half of it, of course, was the disgustingly unfair weapon known as Sung Hyunjae’s face. But there was also no small part of the excitement which was generated by Comet and Blue soaring above them, occasionally diving and making a low pass above the heads of the crowd. Han Yoojin watched the crowd carefully, but thankfully, no one in the audience seemed too alarmed or frightened. To think that just a short few months ago, monsters had been nothing but a source of fear for most. How strange, the workings of the mind.

There was a young boy in the distance gazing up reverently at Blue, cheering and waving frantically every time she passed by. For some reason, it reminded Han Yoojin a little bit of Kang Soyoung. With a short whistle to get Blue’s attention, he pointed at the boy, and she dove immediately, snatching his hat away in her talons to a chorus of awed cries. She’d grown a bit mischievous after spending so much time around Yerim, which was probably why she pretended to run off with the hat for a little while before finally making a hairpin turn around a tall tree and depositing the hat back onto the young boy’s head. The sparkle in his eyes was dazzlingly brilliant.

“... Even just a short ride outside, and my dear partner is already making more rivals for me,” Sung Hyunjae sighed.

“If you want a monster companion of your own so badly, then treat them nicer,” Han Yoojin told him balefully. “Don’t think I haven’t noticed how you pick on Peace.”

Peace, settled on his shoulders like usual, chose that moment to flick his tail and meow in agreement. Poor Peace, you’ve suffered at the hands of this bastard. Ignoring Sung Hyunjae’s betrayed expression, he turned back to look outside.

In that distant other time, Han Yoojin had attended the procession, mostly for the free food and a chance at seeing Yoohyun. Though Han Yoohyun had never shown up in the end. At that time, the Kingdom had suffered through a few more years of Choi Sukwon’s disastrous reign, increasingly losing ground to the encroachment of monsters as they lost more and more of the Wall. The country had splintered, losing Breaker and many of the southern territories, while the Empire bore in from the north. Amidst that terror, the atmosphere of the coronation had been much more somber, the crowd much more sparse.

“… It’s better this way, isn’t it?”

Sung Hyunjae spoke suddenly, and for a brief second, Han Yoojin thought he’d been responding directly to his thoughts. But that was impossible.

“… What?” Han Yoojin asked blankly.

“When it’s cheerful like this.” Sung Hyunjae smiled faintly at him.

Han Yoojin stared at him, that sense of unease from earlier rising in his chest. “... Compared to Choi Sukwon’s coronation?” He asked carefully.

“Have there been any other coronations recently?”

The question sounded just a little too sharp to be rhetorical. But for Sung Hyunjae to remember the time that had been unmade… that should be impossible, shouldn’t it?

“What was the reason that you rushed through the coronation so quickly?” Han Yoojin changed the subject without warning.

He remembered now—the last coronation must have gone on as normal, because the procession hadn’t started until three hours later, when the sky had begun to show the very hints of dusk. The news about Baron Bak Sanghoon and Viscount Kim Woojae being arrested for treason had broken the next day. And while plenty of changes in this timeline could have been blamed on Han Yoojin’s actions, that bit, at least, he’d taken no part in.

So, Sung Hyunjae had made the decision purely on his own. Why?

“It’s the same reason I gave already.” Sung Hyunjae tilted his head. “I saw no reason to listen to the same vows made a hundred and twenty-two times.”

Han Yoojin’s breath faltered for a beat. “… There are only sixty-one sitting lords in the Kingdom,” he said, mouth dry.

Sung Hyunjae smiled gently. “Sixty-two, now,” he reminded.

Damn it, was that the point?

“You must really be going senile, then, if you’re imagining a whole other set of lords.”

“Indeed, it must really be as my partner says.” Sung Hyunjae’s tone remained serene. “Since I can’t seem to shake this feeling of déjà vu recently. I wonder if young lord Yoojin knows what I’m speaking of?”

So it was just at the level of vague impressions, if he was to be believed? True enough, if he had really remembered the other timeline, he would’ve acted much more drastically than just this curious probing. But, still, it seemed that these vague impressions had been enough to make his boredom feel intolerable.

“Sorry, but I don’t have any experience with elder care. You should go look for a medical professional.”

“Being with my dear Honey seems to be a far better remedy than seeing any doctor, though.” The usual tinge of amusement had returned to his voice.

Han Yoojin swallowed, turning his head to stare determinedly out the window. “Oh, is that so? Then, I should be billing for my services for that, too.” He kept his voice level, but his mind was racing.

Up until now, plenty of events had changed in this time due to his involvement, even just by virtue of the fact that the Wall remained standing. But the coronation ceremony was a formal, scripted process that diverged little every time. The only big differences would’ve been… last time, it seemed like Han Yoohyun hadn’t attended. And of course, he, Yoo Meongwoo, and Bak Yerim wouldn’t have been present. Coincidentally… those were all pieces of the ceremony that Sung Hyunjae hadn’t skipped.

He had assumed that Sung Hyunjae’s interest in him mainly stemmed from his abilities, or—well, it seemed like Sung Hyunjae was also a little partial to people who were difficult with him, for whatever reason—but there had been this dimension to it, too. Sung Hyunjae would’ve been drawn to him, even subconsciously, while he was the centerpoint of all of the changes in this timeline.

Something felt like it was twisting in his chest. Anyways, it wasn’t like he’d known, so it couldn’t be called deception. If anything, it should come as good news. That meant that for close to five years, at least, he would probably be able to maintain a good relationship with this guy. Or—if needed, he could use the knowledge as leverage and tell him early. Although it was a little unfortunate that Sung Hyunjae had sensed something on his own, there was still every reason for Han Yoojin to consider the situation advantageous to himself.

“Yoojin.” Warm fingers landed on his cheek, gentle but insistent as they turned his face back to meet Sung Hyunjae’s eyes. “I do wish I could cut you open to look inside you as I please,” he murmured with a regretful sigh, “but it makes it difficult when you make that face.”

What face? Han Yoojin brought a hand up to touch his face. It was perfectly normal, thank you very much.

Sung Hyunjae smiled wryly. “Would my partner forgive me?” He asked, in a soft and pillowy tone that could’ve melted solid rock.

“You didn’t do anything wrong, though,” Han Yoojin said sourly.

“I’ve caused my dear Yoojin distress,” Sung Hyunjae disagreed. “It’s a crime punishable by death.”

Han Yoojin could have laughed. Was there anything more ridiculous than a scammer getting comfort from the person they were deceiving? ‘I’m feeling a bit guilty about all of the lies that I’m telling you, so would you please reassure me?’ Even thinking about it made him feel dirty. Still, it was difficult to refuse when Sung Hyunjae pulled him close enough to bury his face in a broad, firm shoulder. When a kiss fell on his forehead, peppering downwards to his eyelids, following the curve of his cheek to plant squarely on his lips.

A deafening burst of cheers suddenly erupted around them, and he stiffened in surprise, but Sung Hyunjae didn’t release him from the kiss until the cheering had died down. When he finally broke free, breathing a little rough, he saw that the carriage was passing through the palace’s wide front gates again. Oh, so the procession was over.

“The result,” he said, swallowing large gulps of air. “It was good?”

“Everyone adores my cute Yoojin.” Sung Hyunjae paused. “Perhaps a bit too much.”

Too much, what was too much? Nobody is going to be able to compete with the popularity of your face anytime soon, so relax, Partner. He didn’t get a chance to voice his thoughts, though, because Sung Hyunjae’s lips were back to trying to devour him whole, along with every coherent thought inside his brain. It wasn’t until he heard low whispers from nearby—was that Kang Soyoung’s voice?—that he vaguely remembered that they were still in public. Not as much as before, but still.

He dug his elbow into Sung Hyunjae’s chest until he was—a little reluctantly—released, turning to Kang Soyoung with what he hoped was sufficient nonchalance.

“Good work leading Seseong hunters’ contingent during the procession,” he praised. “I can see why His Majesty values you. Umm… Would you mind watching Comet for the rest of the day?”

Blue was still quite vigorous after the procession, but Comet was starting to lag behind noticeably. She was still young, after all. At a gesture from Han Yoojin, she began to glide into a descent, landing with only a tiny stumble on his outstretched, leather-wrapped arm. He offered the baby dragon-laden arm out to Kang Soyoung.

Kang Soyoung’s eyes began to tear up, and she dabbed vigorously at the corners of her eyes through sniffles. “Comet, my baby! My darling! I thought I would have to work all through my birthday again! Young lord Yoojin, sir—no wait, Lord Han—you’re my savior!”

She scooped up the baby dragon with delight, nuzzling its face happily. Well… She was a high-ranked hunter, so the spikes wouldn’t hurt her… right?

Han Yoojin coughed awkwardly. “It’s your birthday?”

“Yes! Even though it's forgotten every year. You know, last year, I even had to work on my birthday because a fight broke out at His Gr—His Majesty's party the day before! A-ahem, not that I’m complaining, Your Majesty.” After a wary glance at Sung Hyunjae, she returned to showering the baby dragon in her arms with coos and hugs. “Oh, Comet, only you can soothe my worries like this,” she bemoaned.

“… Even though it was our child first,” Sung Hyunjae said very, very quietly under his breath. Luckily, it seemed that Kang Soyoung hadn’t been paying attention, but Han Yoojin felt a shiver go down his spine. Isn’t it embarrassing to fight with a young lady over a pet dragon?

“… Should we throw a birthday party for you?” Han Yoojin offered. He really did feel bad for Kang Soyoung. With the coronation happening on her birthday every year from now on, it was likely she’d never know peace.

But Kang Soyoung only shook her head vigorously with something close to alarm. “Eh… no thank you, please don’t, that’s really alright,” she said vehemently, though it was clear she was still attempting to keep her tone polite. “I’ll take Comet, that’s really enough. I don’t want to feel single—ah, I mean, I wouldn’t want to take up Your Lordship’s precious time.”

Han Yoojin felt his face go red at the comment. It wasn’t that bad… was it?

“You heard the young lady,” Sung Hyunjae said cheerfully. “Let’s get out of the young people’s way, then. And Kang Soyoung,” he added.

“Your Majesty!” Kang Soyoung’s back snapped straight immediately.

“Invite whomever you’d like for a nice dinner. You can bill the expenses to Seseong.”

“Your Majesty…!” Her eyes became round and teary again. “Thank you so much, Lord Han! You’re really an angel! My savior!”

Han Yoojin could have died from embarrassment right there. Kang Soyoung… don’t you think you’re thanking the wrong person? But Sung Hyunjae didn’t seem to mind, and the last thing he wanted to do was to draw more attention to himself at that moment. So he bore it in silence until they reached the palace doors again.

Han Yoohyun was there to greet them—or rather, ambush them—the minute they stepped back inside, dragging Han Yoojin away from Sung Hyunjae and shoving himself between them. The relationship between them was really still quite poor, Han Yoojin thought with idle amusement. Well, in a way, it was probably good for Yoohyun. He was usually so indifferent to everyone, it was nice to see him interact with more people. Even if it was like this. But he had warmed up to Yerim eventually, too. Erm… more or less.

“Hyung,” Han Yoohyun said sourly. “You’ve shown your face more than enough for the coronation, haven’t you? Isn’t it time to go back home?”

“Hmm? Alright.” Han Yoojin paused. “But, wait, what about Kang Soyoung’s birthday?”

Han Yoohyun looked at him like he’d spoken gibberish. “What about it?”

… What do you mean, what about it? That’s my future sister-in-law, Yoohyun.

“Won’t she invite you?” Han Yoojin asked.

“We’ve never spoken,” Han Yoohyun said flatly.

… Huh? Was that right? Was it just too early, or was it that rumors just couldn’t be trusted, after all? Han Yoojin wondered if he should say something, but in the end, he held his tongue. Young people’s love lives were their own affairs, after all.

“Alright, then. Let’s go home.” He held his hand out expectantly, but Han Yoohyun was the one to hesitate this time.

“Hyung…” He said carefully. “I still have some duties to take care of, so… You go back first.”

Duties? Han Yoohyun? Han Yoojin stared at him suspiciously. It would be good if it meant that Yoohyun was prioritizing his responsibilities, but it was strange when the kid who was still pushing off tasks a few days ago, saying that his hyung was more important, suddenly became so eager to separate.

“Did something happen?” He demanded.

Han Yoohyun’s lips thinned, and his eyes flickered ever so slightly in Sung Hyunjae’s direction. Immediately, Han Yoojin rounded on Sung Hyunjae accusingly.

“Is it something that’s related to my brother? What is it? Why didn’t you tell me?”

Sung Hyunjae sighed. “You misunderstand,” he explained. “It’s not related to the young master. It’s related to you.”

“You said you wouldn’t tell him!” Han Yoohyun hissed.

“I said I wouldn’t bring up the topic,” Sung Hyunjae corrected. “That honor has been yours, young master.”

Han Yoohyun glowered at him, but he seemed to have been rendered speechless. Han Yoojin crossed his arms.

“So?” He demanded. “What is it?”

“The Isles delegation has enthusiastically requested a meeting with me,” Sung Hyunjae exhaled. “They wanted you to be present as well.”

“The Isles delegation? What do they want from you?”

“They’ve declined to give details until the meeting itself.”

Han Yoojin’s brow furrowed. As far as he could remember, the Isles hadn’t tried any major plays in the previous timeline, remaining more or less safe and isolated on their island country as the rest of the world was besieged by monsters. However, if there was indeed something they wanted, it would explain why the Commander himself had come all the way to the Kingdom, when an ordinary ambassador would have sufficed. After all, it was common knowledge that the emperor there was little more than a figurehead, with the Commander of the Isles holding any and all true military might in his grasp.

“Hyung,” Han Yoohyun persisted. “It’s best if you don’t attend. It’s obvious that they want you there so that they can make demands of you.”

“No.” Han Yoojin shook his head. “If I don’t go, it would put us on the back foot for negotiations from the very start.” After all, he had clearly been present today. They would be able to accuse Sung Hyunjae of slighting them by refusing such a trivial request. “Besides, what can they do to me? It’s not like they can use physical force. If their request is unreasonable, I’ll ignore it. If it’s not, then I’ll hear them out. Burying my head in the sand won’t accomplish anything.”

Han Yoohyun’s mouth set stubbornly, unwillingness written in every line of his face. Sung Hyunjae, though, remained silent. Han Yoojin searched his expression, looking for any clue as to what he was thinking.

“If you think I can’t handle it, I won’t attend,” Han Yoojin said uncertainly. International diplomacy was nothing to make light of, after all.

“There’s no doubt that my partner is very capable,” Sung Hyunjae answered neutrally.

“Then there’s no reason for me not to go, is there?”

“I would also like for you to remain safe.”

It sounded like he was still undecided. So there was room to argue. Han Yoojin pressed his lips together. “It’s meant to be mutually beneficial, isn’t it? Our partnership.”

That way, they would both walk out of it at the end with no regrets.

Sung Hyunjae lifted a lock of his hair, playing with it idly. “Am I not fulfilling my end of the relationship to your satisfaction?”

“You know that’s not what I mean. As your partner, does it make sense for me to hide meekly while you take the fall? Or is the name just a joke to you? If so, then let’s cut the crap and just end things here.”

“Yoojin.” Sung Hyunjae let out another long exhale. “Is putting yourself in harm’s way the only way to convince you that I’m serious?”

“That depends. Is that what it takes for you to take me seriously?” He shot Sung Hyunjae a glare, expecting more resistance. Unexpectedly, though, Sung Hyunjae only let go of his hair, letting it fall loosely back into place.

“I’ve always done so," he said quietly. "But if my partner still doesn’t agree, I find myself at a loss as well.”

His voice was low and steady as always, but there was something in it that gave Han Yoojin pause, that knot in his chest twisting deeper. Sung Hyunjae was silent for a few moments before he finally spoke again.

“I won’t stop you from coming to the negotiations tomorrow,” he said softly. “As you said, you’re my partner. But Yoojin, you should remember that it means that I’m yours as well.”

With those few words, he turned and left, his footsteps echoing in the vast, empty hall until they disappeared, along with his tall, solitary figure. It must’ve been his imagination, but Han Yoojin thought his departing back looked just a bit… hurt.

But no matter how he replayed the conversation in his mind, he couldn’t think of anything he’d said that might’ve been hurtful to Sung Hyunjae. They were talking about that Sung Hyunjae, after all. He would be surprised if they ever dug his chest open and it turned out that he even had a beating heart. No, maybe that was a little extreme. It was true that he was sometimes…

“Yoohyun,” Han Yoojin said hesitantly. “Did I say too much?”

He asked it without expecting much of a response. It was Yoohyun, after all, so undoubtedly the answer would be something like, ‘No, hyung, you’re always right.’ But when minutes passed and no response came, he turned around in perplexion.

“… Hyung,” Han Yoohyun said finally. “I don’t… think that that guy isn’t serious.” He said it like the words physically pained him.

“Are you taking his side?” Han Yoojin asked, surprise overtaking any other emotion.

“I’m not.” Han Yoohyun’s face looked genuinely ill at the thought. “I wouldn’t mind if you hated him. Actually, that would be for the best, since I think that that guy would still like you, so he would still protect you. But since you probably can’t hate him, you should resolve it as quickly as possible. Or else you’ll feel guilty and spend even more time thinking about him.”

His line of reasoning left Han Yoojin so floored that he couldn’t even think of a response. What rendered him most speechless was that it even made a bizarre kind of sense—in that strange, Yoohyun-type logic where Han Yoojin’s existence made up the center of the universe. His baby brother was the sweetest, after all.

Han Yoojin could only laugh. “Other people don’t like me as much as you do, Yoohyun,” he said ruefully.

Han Yoohyun remained silent to that. Well, it wasn’t like he’d expected a reply. But, to think that even Yoohyun was taking Sung Hyunjae’s side.

“… I guess I really did say too much,” Han Yoojin murmured.

Fine. This time, he would graciously accept responsibility.

Chapter Text

… Although that was what he’d said, taking responsibility turned out to be more difficult of a task than Han Yoojin had anticipated.

He and Han Yoohyun arrived at the palace early the next morning—Bak Yerim was off exploring the city—but despite his best efforts, he couldn’t find Sung Hyunjae. It felt distinctly strange, when it was usually the case that he couldn’t take five steps without tripping over the man. Idly, he tugged at the jewel on his earlobe, but this wasn’t urgent to the point where he had to use it… right? Anyways, what if Sung Hyunjae was attending to something important? It was better not to distract him.

Eventually, it began to get close to the hour of the meeting with the Isles delegation, so Han Yoojin gave up the notion of finding him beforehand and headed straight to the agreed-upon drawing room. Of course, it turned out that as soon as he arrived, he saw the stupid bastard sitting inside, calmly sipping a cup of tea. Damn it, should he have just come straight here twenty minutes ago instead of blundering around like an idiot?

“Han Yoojin.” Sung Hunjae greeted him with a placid smile, putting down his teacup. His expression was so serene that for a few minutes, Han Yoojin wondered if he’d been overthinking the whole thing. Maybe Sung Hyunjae wasn’t even upset?

Still, whether or not Sung Hyunjae was upset was one thing. The fact that Han Yoojin had been too harsh was another. Even Yoohyun had noticed, after all, so it couldn’t have been nothing. But, faced with Sung Hyunjae in the flesh, the apology that he’d carefully rehearsed in his mind scattered like dust.

“… Your Majesty,” he said, tongue thick and unwieldy.

Sung Hyunjae answered him with another elegant, perfectly pleasant smile. Somehow, the sight stung Han Yoojin’s eyes. ‘Why is my dear partner being so distant?’ The answer normally would have been something like that. It was a nuisance when he acted that way, but now that he didn’t, the silence left behind a hollow ache that was somehow worse.

It wasn’t the time to dwell on such things, though. The heavy stomp of footsteps from down the hallway heralded the arrival of the Isles delegation. Quickly, Han Yoojin schooled his expression into practiced neutrality just before the Commander of the Isles blustered into the room.

“Congratulations on your ascent, King Sung,” Shishio greeted Sung Hyunjae in a formal tone. So, despite his looks, he did know how to be polite. Relatively speaking. Shishio’s attention turned quickly to Han Yoojin, looking him up and down twice before a hint of disappointment entered his eyes. “The fire manticore isn’t with you today?”

“… No, he’s tired out from yesterday, sir.” All the chaotic new sights and sounds and people had been a bit of an ordeal for poor Peace.

The Commander heaved a great sigh. “I see. Very well, then.”

“You’ve traveled far to grace us with your presence, Commander,” Sung Hyunjae spoke up. “To what do we owe the pleasure of your company?”

The Commander of the Isles grinned sharply, taking a seat in one of the chairs opposite of the table while his entourage remained standing. There were only two people with him today—one of the attendants from yesterday, and a silent young man probably in his twenties with a long sword at his hip. Though his aura was masked, he seemed quite strong—likely another elite-rank.

“I’m merely here today to reaffirm the friendship between our lands,” Shishio said, leaning back in his seat with an air of relaxation. “I have no doubts of course, that you’re a man of honor who will abide by the agreements signed between our countries.”

Bullshit, Han Yoojin wanted to shout. If it had been the routine agreements about trade and fishing waters, commerce, hunter jurisdiction, and all of that—there was no reason the usual ambassadors would have been insufficient.

Sung Hyunjae only smiled ambiguously. “As a man of honor, I will, of course, abide by any honorable agreements made between our lands.”

On a normal day, Han Yoojin would have laughed at hearing Sung Hyunjae call himself honorable, but shameless bastard though he might be, he was undoubtedly reassuring to have on your side.

Shishio held up his hands in exaggerated innocence. “And there is no doubt that all of the agreements made between us have been honorable in nature. Please verify for yourself.”

At a nod to the attendant behind him, a piece of paper was produced and placed on the table before Sung Hyunjae. It was a typical treaty agreement—not a contract, which was only personally binding, but a normal—albeit mostly indestructible—piece of paper. However, the seal at the bottom would have been infused with the signer’s mana as a unique guarantee of authenticity. Without the degree of mana sensitivity enjoyed by higher-rank hunters, Han Yoojin had no way to confirm if the seal did indeed belong to Choi Sukwon, but Sung Hyunjae would know at a glance.

But seeing as Sung Hyunjae was returning the paper calmly, there was probably nothing wrong with it.

“Access to an unexplored ruins in the Kingdom’s portion of the Wall,” Sung Hyunjae remarked. “The friendship between you and my predecessor ran deep indeed.”

“Such deep bonds are hard to come by. You can see why I’m eager to continue the tradition,” Shishio acknowledged.

Han Yoojin suppressed a frown. The first sweep of a ruins—not only was it guaranteed to net the Isles any number of priceless artifacts, it also meant that they would be authorized to bring a fully-equipped elite-rank raiding squad straight through Kingdom soil. That was tantamount to a military intrusion. The question, of course, was what on earth Choi Sukwon would have gotten in exchange for such an agreement.

“Naturally, I would value the Isles’ friendship as well,” Sung Hyunjae said with a regretful sigh. “But you must forgive us. There are currently no unexplored ruins within our jurisdiction, and as you must be aware, it’s unpredictable when they appear. I would hate to keep you waiting on such a nebulous promise. Why don’t we discuss a different set of terms?”

Shishio paused as if he were actually considering the offer. “Very well. Then how about an alternative agreement, in the spirit of fostering such friendships? Though I regret that I cannot invite you to our humble nation for any considerable length of time, busy as you must be, why not… your betrothed?” His eyes flickered to Han Yoojin. “For a mere six months. Though, don’t blame us if the Isles’ sights are so magnificent that he wants to stay longer.” The Commander chuckled heartily, but no one else in the room was laughing.

Han Yoojin, for one, was seconds away from throttling the man. Agh, really, why was this misunderstanding coming up again? He should have made certain to clarify the mistake the first time it had been brought up. Han Yoohyun had been quiet until now, but he made no secret of the way his hands clenched into fists, the veins on his forehead beginning to pop. Even Sung Hyunjae was finding it difficult to maintain his perfect grace in the face of this absurdity, the corners of his mouth tightening visibly.

“You must have heard, Commander,” he said coolly, “of my considerable regard for my partner. Be careful that your zealousness for friendship isn’t mistaken for boorishness.”

“My apologies.” Shishio did not look in the least bit apologetic. “Perhaps I was overeager. Should we return to the original arrangement, then?”

Of course, that was unacceptable, too. To capitulate so quickly after his coronation… Sung Hyunjae would look like a joke to the rest of the continent.

“I have another idea. As you’ve said, this is a moment to kindle new friendships,” Sung Hyunjae said with a sharp smile. “And what better way to foster that than a little friendly competition? Let’s settle this disagreement the traditional way—a duel.”

Han Yoojin bit back a breath of surprise. It was a risky move, but the Kingdom’s odds were good. In the unlikely situation that the Commander chose to represent himself in the duel, then Sung Hyunjae would have sufficient grounds to fight as well, and he was unparalleled in one on one combat. On the other hand, if Shishio chose to name a champion, Han Yoohyun could take the stage, and Yoohyun wouldn’t lose to any of the Isles’ remaining hunters.

However, when the Commander of the Isles’ lips curled into a smile like a beast that had caught its prey, Han Yoojin couldn’t help a spike of wariness in his gut.

“Very well. As the defending side, I suppose it’s my duty to set the terms of the duel.” Shishio tilted his head in exaggerated contemplation. “How about this? It’s said that the measure of a general lies not in his sword, but in the men under his command. Let us compete on the grounds of our abilities as leaders—with a champion from among the ranks of our common soldiers and knights. If you are victorious, the agreement is void. If not—please graciously fulfill both proposed conditions.”

Han Yoojin ground his teeth. ‘A champion from among the ranks of the common soldiers and knights.’ So, excluding anyone of noble birth or in a position of command, the only elites left in the Kingdom who fulfilled that condition were Bak Yerim and Evelyn Miller. As a foreigner who had only recently made her home in the Kingdom, it would be difficult to justify selecting Evelyn Miller as a champion, and anyways, her long-distance style was more suited to scouting and monster elimination, not duels.

That left Bak Yerim—a child who’d only awakened a few months ago and had yet to even hold her coming-of-age ceremony. Obviously, with terms like that, the Isles had set their sights on her from the beginning, hoping to take both access to the ruins and a political hostage home.

But that was only if Yerim lost.

Han Yoojin chewed his lip, glancing at Sung Hyunjae, who appeared to be deep in thought. Yerim can win. He had to tell Sung Hyunjae—but he couldn’t allow the Isles delegation to get wind of his thoughts, in case they decided to change the terms of the duel again. It was better to give them reason to have overconfidence in their win and lower their guard.

“Your Majesty,” he urged in a low voice. “Yerim is such a gentle and timid kid. You can’t possibly send her off to a duel. You know how she hates fighting people.”

Sung Hyunjae’s eyes flickered to him, his features immediately falling into an expression of deep remorse. “I understand your care for her,” he sighed, “but I have faith in her, young as she may be. As hunters, we must all learn to rise to the occasion when it is demanded of us.” He turned back to Shishio. “We accept those terms, but as one of our counterterms, I trust that you’ll be sending in one of your own young talents as well?”

“Of course.” Shishio gestured confidently to the young man to his right, who stepped forward. “Our champion will be Iwahata Gakuto, one of the finest young warriors under my command. It will be a battle of youthful vigor!”

It wasn’t wrong to call him young, but still, he probably had around a decade more experience as a hunter than Yerim did. Have some shame, please. Still, it was better than if they’d picked some battle-hardened veteran for the duel. They also had appearances to keep up, though, so they couldn’t go too overboard, either.

Sung Hyunjae nodded his assent, then turned to Han Yoojin again. “Yoojin,” he said warmly, in a tone that could melt butter. “Is there anything else you’d like to add to the counterterms? Something that would make our Yerim feel more at ease?”

Han Yoojin swallowed. If he closed his eyes, that tone of voice could almost fool him into believing that he and Sung Hyunjae weren’t in the middle of a fight.

… Was that what this was? A fight?

“The ocean,” he said finally. “Yerim’s always loved the ocean.”

That was bullshit, of course. He was pretty sure Bak Yerim had never seen the ocean before. But by the time this was over, it probably wouldn’t be a lie.

“Very well. The duel will take place by the ocean,” Shishio agreed easily, as Han Yoojin had expected that he would. Bak Yerim’s abilities were publicly known to be related to ice, not water, and the Isles should also prefer to keep their visitors close to their port of entry rather than bringing them farther inland, through more of the country. “I’m satisfied with the terms of the duel.”

“I, too, am satisfied with the terms of the duel,” Sung Hyunjae echoed.

“Very well. I am glad that we could reach an amicable agreement today,” the Commander said, rising to his feet. “I look forward to receiving your champion as a guest on the Isles, King Sung.”

“I look forward to it as well,” Sung Hyunjae returned with a neutral smile.

With that, the Isles delegation departed, Shishio’s heavy footsteps echoing loudly enough to be heard three corridors down. Once they had finally faded, Han Yoohyun spoke up.

“Hyung,” he said with concern, “You have a plan?”

“Who says I don’t just have faith in our Yerim?” Han Yoojin teased.

“Hyung!” Han Yoohyun repeated urgently, the crease in his brow forming a deep trench.

“Sorry, sorry.” It seemed like Yoohyun had been holding his tongue for a while. “I’ll tell you the details in a bit. But you could call it a plan. Yerim will win, no doubt.”

Han Yoohyun looked mildly mollified by that, but the furrow in his brow persisted. “I’m coming, too,” he said in a stubborn tone, as if daring Han Yoojin to argue. And it was true that under normal circumstances, Han Yoojin would have protested. It was customary for the defending side to host the duel, so there was no getting around a trip to the Isles, and with both Bak Yerim and Han Yoohyun absent, Haeyeon would be in a risky spot. But in this case…

“Don’t worry,” Han Yoojin assured him. “Hyung is counting on you to be there.”

Han Yoohyun studied his face for a few moments. Once he’d apparently assured himself that it was the truth, he nodded with satisfaction.

With that resolved, Han Yoojin turned to Sung Hyunjae.

“Your M…” After hesitating, he ended up switching his form of address after all. “Sung Hyunjae. Could I speak with you? In private.”

Sung Hyunjae tilted his head. “As I’ve said, you always have my ear.”

It sounded like the usual response, but why did it feel a bit distant?

Still, Han Yoojin turned to Han Yoohyun. “I’ll catch up soon, Yoohyun.”

Han Yoohyun’s dark eyes flickered between the two of them, but in the end, he only nodded silently and left. Once he was gone, the door clicked shut quietly behind him, leaving only the two of them in a suffocating silence.

“I should apologize.” Steeling himself, Han Yoojin spoke quickly. “Yesterday, I said a lot of things. And, I guess, I was a bit harsh in how I spoke. So, if you were upset by it—though, maybe it was a trivial matter to you, but I was still in the wrong—um, which is to say… all things considered, I’m sorry.”

Sung Hyunjae waited patiently for him to finish, despite how clumsily he stumbled through the apology. Ah, really, this shouldn’t be such a difficult task, should it? When he was finally done speaking, though, he only heard Sung Hyunjae exhale quietly and lean back in his seat.

“Yoojin,” he said gently. “Are you apologizing because you didn’t mean what you said? Or because you think that you upset me by it?”

Han Yoojin’s brow wrinkled in perplexion. “… It’s both, isn’t it? I, I didn’t mean to speak so harshly—well, maybe I did, but I didn’t think…” He trailed off uncertainly, and it was Sung Hyunjae who finished his sentence.

“You didn’t think it would matter to me.”

Han Yoojin bit his lip. But, well, that was exactly it, wasn’t it? Out of all the vitriol that he threw at Sung Hyunjae on a daily basis, from calling him a bastard to mocking his age, he still couldn’t figure out why the line had been drawn there.

Sung Hyunjae smiled wryly. “As long as you meant every word, you have nothing to apologize to me for.”

Han Yoojin hesitated. “… Because you weren’t upset?”

“Because, as I’ve said,” Sung Hyunjae said softly. “I’m yours. Whether you sell me off or drive a knife into my heart, there’s nothing for me to complain about.”

What kind of knife, in Han Yoojin’s hands, could possibly put a dent in Sung Hyunjae? The absurdity of it could have made him laugh, but somehow, the impulse died in his throat.

“Don’t try to change the topic with nonsense,” he scowled. “I’m being serious.”

“So am I. I’ve always been quite serious.” Sung Hyunjae stood up, crossing the distance between them in just a few long strides. “Yoojin, are you determined to take that as a joke, as well?”

He spoke with an air of dissatisfaction, his perfect features not meticulously arranged in an unreadable smile for perhaps the first time that day. His golden eyes were bright and intense, and despite how inopportune the moment, Han Yoojin couldn’t help thinking that at this close of a distance, Sung Hyunjae usually would have reached out to touch him by now, whether it was to stroke his face or play with his hair, or even just the simple weight of a hand on his waist or shoulder. There really must be something wrong with him. It was hardly the time for such thoughts.

“Is that the part that you’re unhappy about?” Han Yoojin demanded. “Then, I am sorry for phrasing it that way. I don’t… think that you’re joking. After… After everything, I wouldn’t forget that you’ve listened to me. Even when you had little reason to. And I may not be able to pay it back right now, but… there’s the story of the lion and the mouse, right? Anyways, it’s not that I don’t think you’re sincere.”

“But—leaving everything else aside, for now—you don’t think I’m serious, either.”

Han Yoojin bit his lip. “I… think that your definition of serious might be different from mine.”

“How so?” Sung Hyunjae questioned. “If you’re going to make such one-sided assertions, I at least have the right to make my appeals, don’t I?”

“Fine. I suppose you have that right.” Han Yoojin closed his eyes wearily. “For one, I’m not… an elite hunter, or an established lord. There’s any number of people with as much social capital as me, or more. Of course, the monster-taming ability is unique, but it isn’t necessary for us to be at the level of partners for you to benefit from it. But, on the contrary, I receive a lot of status just by standing next to you.”

“And, so?” Sung Hyunjae remarked. “Surely you aren’t accusing me of infidelity.”

“So, I’m saying,” Han Yoojin snapped, “How can you say that you’re serious if you’re not asking more of me? Otherwise, isn’t this just at the level of playing house? If that’s how it is, fine, but there’s no need for pretenses.”

Sung Hyunjae regarded him quietly for a few moments. “It seems that the more sincere my care, the more it’s destined to be rejected.”

“I don’t need that kind of care. The kind where dangerous things are kept away from me, without my knowledge.”

After another long silence, Sung Hyunjae let out a subdued sigh. “Yes, I suppose it’s something that you would refuse. Very well, if that’s your condition for being serious, I’ll abide by it.”

Han Yoojin blinked. Really? That easily?

Sung Hyunjae gave him a look of feigned hurt. “Have I not always been very yielding towards my partner?”

Han Yoojin opened his mouth to protest, but he soon closed it again. Fine, it seemed like that really was the case.

“And?” Sung Hyunjae prodded. “What else?”

“What ‘what else’?” Han Yoojin wondered.

“You said, ‘for one.’ So, that’s not your only complaint.”

Damn it, was it necessary to cling onto every word like that?

“… I miscounted,” Han Yoojin hedged. “Or rather, I misspoke. It was just the wrong turn of phrase. Please don’t pay it any mind.”

Sung Hyunjae took another step, and there was no room for Han Yoojin to do anything now besides retreat, his back colliding against the edge of the table with a soft thump. But the distance that had been opened up between them was immediately occupied again when Sung Hyunjae leaned forward, resting his hands against the edge of the table, conveniently cutting off any escape route Han Yoojin might have had. If he became desperate enough to stoop to fleeing like that.

“Yoojin,” Sung Hyunjae said with a strange gravity. “Aren’t you the one who isn’t taking me seriously?”

“Me?” Han Yoojin asked incredulously. “Would I dare to not take our great, majestic, noble, wise, powerful, righteous, benevolent king seriously?”

“I wouldn’t know,” Sung Hyunjae said pleasantly, “as I’ve never met him. But when it comes to myself, I do believe that my partner has no issue treating my words like air.”

“I—” Han Yoojin bit back his instinctive response. Fine, this was an apology, after all. “Alright, then. Which words? I’ll listen particularly attentively this time.”

Sung Hyunjae studied him closely for a few moments, perhaps taking stock of his expression. Or maybe just to build up anticipation. Dramatic bastard. “I’m asking you,” he said finally, once he’d deigned to speak, “if that’s enough to bridge the difference between your ‘serious’ and mine. And if you say that it isn’t, then—since we’ve agreed on my right to hear why, I’ll have to continue to exercise it.”

Han Yoojin scowled. “Don’t you know that it’s discourteous to pursue a line of conversation that the other party has already indicated to drop? I’ve already said not to pay it any mind, so please forget it. You see? I even added ‘please.’ Instead of this, maybe a conversation on manners would be more appropriate.”

“I apologize,” Sung Hyunjae answered immediately, “but you’ll have to pardon my discourtesy this one time. My partner is very forgiving, so I’m sure I can find a way to make up for it. However, this is a matter I find rather important.”

Shit, why was Sung Hyunjae being so persistent about this? But since he had been blunt to this degree, there was no easy way to avoid the topic. In truth, Han Yoojin had to admit that he hadn’t expected Sung Hyunjae to mind the issue so much—and maybe it meant that he really was more serious about the partnership than Han Yoojin had imagined. It would’ve been nice if he could have given Sung Hyunjae another simple, easy answer. But, instead…

My ‘serious’ is for life.

When Han Yoojin decided on a commitment, it was forever. Yoohyun was a given, but even Peace and Yerim and the others—he had no doubts that he would worry over them until his dying breath. Of course, they would naturally grow up and become independent, but that was a separate matter. It didn’t change the fact that they were his.

And as for Sung Hyunjae… he had no doubt that no matter when and how they separated, there was some part of him that would always consider Sung Hyunjae his partner. But it wasn’t like he was seeking reciprocation in that. In the first place, a handful of months was too short a time to ask that of anyone, let alone of Sung Hyunjae.

And the bitter truth was, Sung Hyunjae wasn’t just a heartless bastard with no consideration for anyone or anything. If that had been the case, it would’ve been easy to disregard him. Instead, he was here, earnestly asking how they could bridge a chasm that stretched endlessly wide.

But some words were impossible to take back once said. They seeped into the cracks, silently spreading their insidious roots beneath the surface until the day they burst forth, permanently scarring the face of the earth.

If Han Yoojin dared to say such a ridiculous thing, he was sure that Sung Hyunjae wouldn’t laugh. He would probably just look a little troubled, falling into silence. In the best case, maybe he would entertain the notion for a time. Or perhaps he would decide on the mercy of a swift end and cut it off at the root. But either way, he would call Han Yoojin’s name gently, ever so gently, as he delivered the cruelest sentence. ‘Yoojin… My apologies, but—’

“—Yoojin?”

It was the note of something almost like shock in Sung Hyunjae’s voice that snapped Han Yoojin out of his thoughts. Gingerly, he touched the strange warmth at the corner of his eye, and his fingertips came away damp.

“Fuck,” he mumbled aloud. Well, none of the children were around to hear him, anyways. “Don’t make such a weird face. You look like a frog. Haven’t you ever seen someone with hay fever before? I assure you, among us lesser mortals, it’s quite common.”

It seemed like Sung Hyunjae had extended his hand, but he hesitated at the last second. “Yoojin—”

He was interrupted by the loud slam of the doors being flung open. Han Yoohyun stormed in urgently, eyes flying between the two of them. “Hyung!”

“Yoohyun?!” Han Yoojin asked in abject horror.

Fuck, this was utterly mortifying. He rubbed his face furiously into his sleeves, hopefully wiping away any incriminating traces of tears and snot. Though he had a feeling his eyes were going to be an ugly, puffy red that wouldn’t be doing him any favors.

“Yoohyun, why are you—Were you here the whole—Didn’t you hear me say ‘in private’? Does that not mean anything these days?” Han Yoojin turned to shoot Sung Hyunjae an equally scathing look. “And you. You must’ve known he was here. Why didn’t you say anything?”

Both of them at least looked properly chastised, but that hardly meant that they’d learned their lesson.

“Hyung, never mind that for now. What did he say to you?” Han Yoohyun shot Sung Hyunjae a vicious glower.

“Like you didn’t hear perfectly well,” Han Yoojin said sourly. He pushed aside Sung Hyunjae’s arm, meeting surprisingly little resistance. “Anyways, like I said, it’s just pollen. Or dust. Maybe the room hasn’t been cleaned properly. Come on, Yoohyun.”

He dragged Han Yoohyun with him out of the room, studiously refusing to look back as they passed through the double doors now thrown haphazardly ajar.

“Hyung,” Han Yoohyun insisted, trailing comically behind him like a large puppy dog. “What did he say to upset you?”

Han Yoojin laughed dryly. “You must have heard everything from outside. If there had been anything wrong, you would have run in earlier.”

Han Yoohyun was silent for a few moments. So he wasn’t even refuting it. “Still,” Han Yoohyun persisted. “He made you cry.”

“I already told you that he didn’t,” Han Yoojin said firmly. “Anyways, forget that. I’ve been thinking. Yoohyun, wouldn’t it be nice for Haeyeon to have another elite-rank?”

“Hyung!”

Han Yoojin ignored his outburst. “Since both you and Yerim will be coming to the Isles, it won’t be good to leave Haeyeon unguarded. But, luckily, Kim Sunghan has the potential to become stronger, did you know? It’s probably because he’s become too used to his defensive position that he hasn’t been pushing himself enough in other aspects.”

Finally, Han Yoohyun took the hint. “… What did you have in mind?” He asked reluctantly, though his eyes were still fixed on the receding view of the doors behind them.

“There’s a known nest of golems outside Seseong’s portion of the Wall. It would be good for Kim Sunghan to get some experience fighting something with a similar combat style to himself, as well as to have a chance to be the primary offensive force for once.”

Han Yoohyun nodded slowly. “Alright. We can arrange for something like that.” He hesitated for a moment. “But, about just now, hyung—”

“It would be best to hurry,” Han Yoojin added. “The date for the duel isn’t set yet, but it’s likely we’d leave alongside the Isles delegation, so we probably have only a little over a week.”

“I know, but—”

“And it would be best not to announce that he’s become elite-rank until we’ve already departed. Something like, ‘bearing the sole responsibility of defending Haeyeon pushed him beyond his limits.’ It’s more believable, and it won’t look intentional.”

“… Okay. Fine.” Han Yoohyun finally gave up and exhaled in resignation. “Let’s talk about the details.”

Every day, Kim Sunghan kept to a simple, predictable morning routine. He woke up well before first light to wash up, dress, and do his first set of morning drills in his quarters. After that, he would report to either the duke, when he was here, or Seok Simyeong, if the duke was away. 

As Duke Haeyeon’s deputy, if he wasn’t being assigned to guard Han Yoojin for the day, then it was his duty to organize and prepare for the next patrol. On rare occasions, there would be nothing for him to do, so he’d while away the afternoon doing yet more practice drills at one of the training grounds, or giving pointers to his juniors. Simply put, his life was set to a predictable beat, even if it had become a little less so after Han Yoojin’s arrival.

But with the more… should he say, volatile of Haeyeon’s inhabitants away for the king’s coronation, even that bit of excitement had faded to a muted tone in the back of his mind. His days were as peaceful as they had ever been, and he was determined to enjoy it while it lasted—the simple charm of this idyllic, uninterrupted calm.

That was, until he opened the door of his quarters to find the kingdom’s new monarch standing right outside.

“Punctual,” Sung Hyunjae commented. “I’m glad I wasn’t made to wait.”

And before Kim Sunghan could get so much as a "What on earth are you doing here, Your Majesty?" out, a set of unyielding metal chains had already wrapped around him and begun yanking him harshly down the hallway.

Chapter Text

When the glisten of lamplight caught the first hint of dampness at the corner of his partner’s eye, Sung Hyunjae—for all his worldly experience and his calm in a crisis—froze.

For the first time in the entirety of his memory, he found himself at a loss for words.

The fragile spell was broken when Han Yoojin reached out to push his arm aside. For the briefest of moments, he considered not moving. If, rather than allowing his partner to pass, he instead closed his arms, tightening his hold, pinning Han Yoojin in place—his brother be damned—until this frustrating sense of dissonance had been chipped at and hammered away.

But in the end, it was only a thought. His partner was resilient and stubborn, but also fragile in the most unexpected of ways. So he allowed Han Yoojin to slip past him, voice receding to a faraway murmur as he retreated down the hall, Han Yoohyun in tow.

In truth, when Sung Hyunjae reflected back on the past two days, this entire outburst had been unlike him. He was used to taking what he wanted—setting up the playing field just so, so that the pieces would fall exactly to his will. Sometimes, the occasional unexpected variable might arise, but that was the fun of it, the challenge. And as for Han Yoojin’s understanding, or even his permission—as long as there wasn’t outright rejection, in this particular high-stakes game, neither of those things was required.

Human behavior was, after all, quite easy to influence. It was all a matter of incentives. There were material incentives—sustenance, wealth, pain and comfort. And there were nonmaterial ones—affection, spite, recognition and praise. As long as one understood how to set up the scales in advance, it was no difficulty at all to control how they would tip. And in Han Yoojin’s case, the things that he cherished were broadcast with such painful clarity that it would have been more difficult not to be aware of them.

The safety and happiness of his brother. Of his wards. A burning need to prove himself. With Sung Hyunjae’s resources, it wasn’t hard to arrange the board to ensure that all of those things were placed in a position tied to Sung Hyunjae’s side. And it didn’t hurt, either, that Han Yoojin, for all his keen guardedness, was… resistant to noticing certain aspects of things, and even more disinclined to refusing them.

By the time his precious partner understood that the net had been closed around him—ten, twenty years down the line, perhaps—there would be no point in struggling. Why would he? Everything he valued would be inside the net with him. Han Yoohyun would be the biggest obstacle, but though he might lash out on occasion, he wouldn’t truly object if his brother didn’t, as long as it meant ensuring his brother’s safety to a greater degree. As for Han Yoojin himself, there were plenty of justifications that he would happily lap up. It was profitable, it was for the good of the kingdom, it was for legal expedience, there was always—technically—the option of divorce.

So, no. Sung Hyunjae didn’t necessarily need Han Yoojin to understand his intentions. There was no benefit to provoking a disagreement that would only put his partner on guard around him. The path to his goal was already clearly drawn, the finish line in full view. All he had to do was stay the course.

It was just… a little unfulfilling.

There was something missing, still.

Sung Hyunjae stood there, still as a statue, allowing Han Yoojin’s distant voice to serve as a pleasant backdrop to his thoughts. Despite storming out, the two of them hadn’t gone far, snatches of their conversation easy to pick up with his sharp hearing.

Since when was it, he wondered. When was it that the notion of ‘keeping Han Yoojin’ had become eclipsed by the thought of keeping him safe and sound?

Nominally, Sung Hyunjae had only moved into the palace only a few days ago, but naturally, the renovations had been completed weeks in advance. Choi Sukwon’s documents had been searched and ransacked for anything of value, and then stored or destroyed where appropriate. His decor and furniture had largely been sold off or dismantled, replaced by things more to Sung Hyunjae’s tastes.

The decoration currently sitting in the corner of his office was not to his taste, but he would have to bear with it for a while.

That was where he was when Han Yoojin came to find him, knocking politely on his door. Even without announcing himself, the quiet sound of his partner’s footfalls was distinctive enough to pick apart from the crowd.

“Please enter,” Sung Hyunjae said casually.

The door opened just a crack, and Han Yoojin poked his head in tentatively. Whatever he saw must have reassured him, because the door soon swung all the way open as he cleared his throat and strode in confidently as if nothing had happened.

“Your Majesty…” He began, but his voice soon trailed off as his attention was caught by the decoration in the corner.

“Yoojin,” Sung Hyunjae said with a smile, standing up and walking over to greet his partner. “Has your hay fever subsided?”

“Huh? Oh, uh… Yes, it was nothing… Uh…” Normally, Sung Hyunjae would have been a bit miffed to find him distracted like this while speaking with him, but he would forgive it this time. The decoration was a gift for him, after all.

“If it was nothing, it should be fine for me to take a closer look, no?” Sung Hyunjae remarked. He leaned forward, bending down just slightly to put them a little closer in height. “May I touch you?”

“What? Oh, yes…” Han Yoojin finally diverted some of his attention back to Sung Hyunjae. “Since when do you ask about things like that? It’s weird.”

“I wouldn’t want my partner to think that I’m doing it lightly,” Sung Hyunjae said patiently.

The tips of his fingers caught the underside of Han Yoojin’s jaw, tipping it up so that he could inspect his partner’s face. Indeed, a night of rest had cleared away the redness from his eyes, though the ever-present dark circles were still there. Satisfied, he let his fingers fall away.

“My partner does look a bit more rested than yesterday,” he agreed.

“… Uh huh.” Biting his lip, Han Yoojin averted his eyes—but the direction he glanced in just happened to be where the decoration was located. His eyes flickered back to Sung Hyunjae again, but seeing no explanation forthcoming, it seemed like he finally couldn’t resist the impulse to ask. “Sung Hyunjae,” he began slowly. “Why is Sir Kim Sunghan tied up with the Seeker’s chains in a corner of your office?”

Sung Hyunjae smiled radiantly at him. “Since gifts should be wrapped,” he explained, as if it were the most natural thing in the world. “But the ribbons that I own didn’t seem inclined to staying put.”

Han Yoojin looked at him as if he’d grown a second head. “… In the first place, I don’t believe Sir Kim is yours to give away? Who are you giving him to, anyways? I do need him back, so please don’t occupy his time for too long.”

“Yoojin,” Sung Hyunjae sighed. “If you talk so passionately about needing unrelated men, I’ll be jealous. I might have to reconsider giving him to you. Well, the gift is the time and effort of dragging him here, so I’d simply have to tow him back to Haeyeon for you to fetch. Hmm, but what should I do? It seems that the idea of you running after an unrelated man to pursue him is unpleasant, as well.”

“‘Dragging him…’” Han Yoojin echoed. “Don’t tell me, you really dragged him all the way here from Haeyeon like this?” He took another peek at Kim Sunghan with mild alarm. “Sir Kim, uh… Are you alright?”

Kim Sunghan, who had been sitting as still as physically possible, as if he could really blend in with the furniture that way, answered reluctantly. “… Lord Han,” he greeted awkwardly. “I’m, ah, fairly sturdy, so I’m well.”

“Oh… I suppose that’s true. You’ve, uh, worked hard.” Han Yoojin answered, just as awkwardly. He turned back to Sung Hyunjae. “Well, if the gift is for me, then I’ll be taking him now. And—access to Seseong’s part of the Wall, I’ll need that. In exchange, mm, I can give Seseong preferential treatment in selecting the next child to raise.”

“No need for that,” Sung Hyunjae said lightly. “I’ve been considering carefully. Things like contracts and exchanges are for strangers, are they not? Between you and I, gifts should suffice.”

“More gifts?” Han Yoojin asked dubiously. “Should I remind you that your birthday has already passed? And your coronation, too.” 

“There’s no rule that says gifts can only be given on special days. Something that is happily given, to be happily received—anything like that can be called a gift.”

Han Yoojin squinted at him warily. “And what kind of gift do you want in exchange for this?”

Sung Hyunjae laughed helplessly. “When it comes to my dear Yoojin, any scraps you could toss my way would be a treasure to me.”

Rather than alleviating Han Yoojin’s scowl, the words only seemed to deepen it. “Then, for now, please give Sir Kim to me. I suppose you won’t complain if I arrange a gift for you at a later time.”

“Very well, it’s true that time is of the essence at present,” Sung Hyunjae said, picking his partner up breezily. “Let’s be off, then.”

“Wait,” Han Yoojin blurted out. “Wait, wait, wait. Who said you were coming?”

Sung Hyunjae raised an eyebrow. “Who else? The young master’s time would be better spent practicing for the duel with the young miss.”

“Yes, but—don’t you have, I don’t know, royal duties to attend to?” Han Yoojin objected. “Anyways, Sir Kim has been my assigned guard plenty of times. You’d just be an idle tagalong.”

Kim Sunghan, in the corner, had enough prescience to look like he wished for nothing more at that moment than to vanish from sight. Sung Hyunjae decided to give him a few points for tact.

“Sir Kim Sunghan,” Sung Hyunjae said patiently, “will be busy playing with the golems, won’t he? Besides, as a defensively-oriented hunter, I do believe it would take him all day just to take down one golem without some help. After all,” he added sharply, “it’s not as if there’s a way for his offensive attributes to suddenly increase.”

Han Yoojin forced out an awkward laugh in response. “Of course not,” he said, fidgeting only a little. “That would be too convenient.”

Sung Hyunjae beamed. “I believe that’s settled, then,” he said with finality. “Do the arrangements agree with you, Sir Kim?”

Kim Sunghan’s answering smile had a tinge of bitterness to it. “I wouldn’t dare to object, Your Majesty.”

Kim Sunghan was a man who rarely found himself cowed. Even amongst high-rank hunters, he was one of the best, and his defensive abilities could hold up even against elite-rank attacks. In terms of status, he might be common-born, but he was currently serving as the deputy for one of the three great Houses. Even his very own duke looked upon his abilities with a measure of respect and high regard.

But when the duke of Seseong—no, the king—was involved, normalcy was a force that ceased to apply.

“Sir Kim,” Sung Hyunjae had said conversationally, “The weather is quite lovely today, is it not?”

“... Very pleasant, Your Majesty,” Kim Sunghan had answered reluctantly.

Their exchange could have passed for small talk, if not for the fact that the king had just kidnapped him from his own home and was currently in the middle of dragging him along at dizzying speeds, the seat of his pants chafing a little uncomfortably as he bounced over stone and grass. At first, he had valiantly attempted to keep pace with Sung Hyunjae on foot, but he had quickly realized that his speed was no match for an elite-rank—he specialized in defense, after all, not agility—and it wasn’t like bumping into a few rocks or tree branches could really do any damage to him or his armor. So, being dragged it was, then.

“This weather,” Sung Hyunjae had continued, “would be perfect for a date, don’t you think? A nice little stroll outside the Wall, perhaps.”

“... That sounds very nice, Your Majesty.”

“But,” Sung Hyunjae sighed forlornly. “It’s a bit awkward to have a date with an unrelated party in the mix. I wonder, have you ever had that experience, Sir Kim?”

All of Kim Sunghan’s survival instincts had instantly flared up. “Your Majesty won’t even notice I’m there,” he promised solemnly.

Among the Haeyeon hunters who were routinely pulled into keeping watch over Han Yoojin, there was a joke that made the rounds every so often. Which would you rather run into while on duty—a rabid venom-fanged wyvern, or the duke of Seseong? 

“The wyvern,” Kim Jiyeon had joked, “because at least if it tries to take a bite out of your charge, you’re allowed to punch it back.”

“The wyvern,” another hunter had agreed. “Because at least you can try to pull rank on the wyvern. The duke of Seseong will pull rank on you. ”

Personally, Kim Sunghan had found the jokes rather unprofessional. Two hours into his stint as a silent wall decoration for the country’s exalted monarch, though, they were starting to sound a lot funnier. Maybe, he should start workshopping his own punchline?

If being a silent wall decoration had been a humbling experience, then going on a raid with Sung Hyunjae was nigh on humiliating.

It wasn’t that Kim Sunghan had never gone on a patrol with a much stronger hunter—after all, he routinely raided with the duke of Haeyeon, and recently, Bak Yerim’s participation also made short work of anything that the duke’s flames didn’t burn to a crisp. But even then, Kim Sunghan had a role in the squad, whether that was shielding their more vulnerable support-oriented hunters from surprise attacks and friendly fire, or leading an offshoot of the party in a strategic split to cover ground more efficiently.

This, though? Even a third wheel had more purpose than he did.

“You’re doing great, Sir Kim!” Han Yoojin shouted encouragingly from the sidelines. “That’s thirty-seven!”

Like clockwork, the Seeker’s chains whipped out from beside him, coiling around the next golem like a deadly constrictor. Sparks flew out from its links, strategically dismantling each of the golem’s limbs from its torso in a manner of seconds, until it was reduced to a pile of rocky limbs and an immobilized core. It couldn’t even be called child’s play for Kim Sunghan to punch through the now-defunct shell that guarded its core, pulling out the mana crystal from inside. Immediately, what life had remained in the golem’s parts vanished, and it became little more than another unobtrusive pile of rocks in the landscape.

“Thirty-eight,” Han Yoojin counted. “Do I even need to be here for this?” He asked, a bit of a grumble in his voice. “Aren’t I being a bit of a third wheel? Maybe you and Sir Kim should finish the date alone, Your Majesty.”

Kim Sunghan made the mistake of looking back.

Han Yoojin did indeed look quite idle, even swinging his legs a little out of boredom as he perched in Sung Hyunjae’s hold. Noticing Kim Sunghan’s gaze, Sung Hyunjae smiled at him. Immediately, a shiver went down his spine.

He turned back around just fast enough to see the Seeker’s chains strike at another golem lumbering towards them. Before the chains could reach their target, the golem deployed a heavy shield—one not unlike Kim Sunghan’s own—and for a second, it looked like the chains had been successfully repelled. Kim Sunghan had seen enough today to know how far from the truth that was, though.

Instead of bouncing off, the chains began to snake along the outside of the shield at lightning speeds. It must have found a weak point—the tiniest of fractures—because it halted abruptly, and a thousand bolts of blinding electricity shot towards a single point in the seemingly impenetrable shield. A visible crack formed in what had once been an impregnable wall, widening second by second until the shield cracked in two and dissipated.

Sung Hyunjae didn’t miss that split second of vulnerability to send the Seeker’s chains right at the golem’s throat. All of the armor and defensive skills in the world couldn’t help the golem at that moment, its every weakness as exposed to the king’s strikes as if a bright red target sign had been painted on them. It only took a few seconds for it to fall apart as neatly as the last one had—and the thirty-seven before that. Kim Sunghan shuddered sympathetically.

“Thirty-nine. Hold on just a moment, Sir Kim.” Hopping out of Sung Hyunjae’s arms, he plodded over to Kim Sunghan and patted him encouragingly on the back. “You’ve worked hard today. How do you feel?”

The gesture was strangely soothing, but Kim Sunghan didn’t have time to dwell on that, because he immediately felt Sung Hyunjae’s monstrous presence approach in tandem. Immediately, Han Yoojin’s hand on his back began to burn like an iron-hot brand. He scooted away as inconspicuously as he could.

“I… feel well, my lord,” he said clumsily.

Han Yoojin’s brows furrowed. “Do you feel especially triumphant? Vigorous? Bloodthirsty? You’ve just felled thirty-nine golems, Sir Kim. You should at least feel a little proud of yourself, right?”

Kim Sunghan laughed awkwardly. It was true that for higher-ranked hunters, going outside the Wall represented a chance to let loose their monstrous strength, but he had never felt less bloodthirsty in his life than he did today. If anything, he felt like a rabbit, ready to bolt out of his skin at the slightest sound.

With a sigh, Han Yoojin turned to Sung Hyunjae. “I don’t know if this is working,” he grumbled. “The point is to have Sir Kim exercise something other than his defensive abilities. I’m not sure he’s exercising anything this way.”

“Yoojin,” Sung Hyunjae said calmly. “Have some patience.”

“Having patience with a pointless task is just wasted time,” Han Yoojin refuted. “It would be best to switch to the first method, after all. The limitations… can be worked around.”

“Don’t be so quick to give up on Sir Kim,” Sung Hyunjae chided. “He won’t disappoint. Will you, Sir Kim?”

The moment Sung Hyunjae’s eyes turned to him, Kim Sunghan’s breathing stopped, his world narrowing to the pounding of his blood in his ears. The gruesome, gory deaths of the previous thirty-nine golems flashed before his eyes—their defenses taken apart in a flash, their very insides cored out. This wasn’t an opponent you could resist with armor or a shield.

A crackle of lightning whistled past his ear, and a burst of energy suddenly surged through his veins, pushing him past his bodily limits. Run, his instincts screamed at him. His only course of survival was to run.

By the time he realized that the lightning had been aimed not at him, but a golem behind him, he was already a training field’s length away. The golem went down just as easily without his participation, Sung Hyunjae personally stepping forward to punch through the core and retrieve its mana crystal.

Sheepishly, Kim Sunghan made his way back.

“Oh,” Han Yoojin said, sounding begrudgingly impressed. “So you were right. But how come it turned out to be agility, rather than strength?”

Sung Hyunjae shrugged. “Perhaps Sir Kim was frustrated with the slow pace of today’s hunting.”

Han Yoojin rolled his eyes, but he said nothing to contest the statement. “How does it feel to reach elite-rank, Sir Kim?” He asked, patting Kim Sunghan on the shoulder this time.

“... Elite-rank?” Kim Sunghan echoed dumbly. A hunter ascending in rank, to become an elite, no less? It wasn’t completely unprecedented, but it was the stuff of legend, for sure. And yet, after a few months by Han Yoojin’s side, he couldn’t even muster up the capacity to be shocked anymore.

The surge of energy in his body from earlier hadn’t subsided, instead calming to a steady, powerful pulse that circulated through his veins. Every single one of his senses felt sharper, his steps lighter and his movements more powerful. Even though it was only a step away on paper, the difference from when he’d been high-ranked was incomparable. No wonder even high-rank hunters were so cowed by an elite’s presence.

… Though, even as—ostensibly—an elite-rank himself now, Kim Sunghan couldn’t help still feeling jumpy around the king. Was that an aftereffect of his… unorthodox training method? He looked up and met Sung Hyunjae’s somewhat… sharp gaze, which only alleviated after he took a few awkward shuffles away from Han Yoojin’s continued touch on his shoulder.

“I see… So it was for the purpose of strengthening the Kingdom’s defenses. I deeply apologize for misunderstanding your good intentions, Your Majesty,” Kim Sunghan said earnestly, with a deep bow. “To think that you were so passionate about the betterment of your subjects’ lives all this time.”

Sung Hyunjae smiled amiably. “I have no doubt that Sir Kim will use his newfound strength for the good of the kingdom.”

“Of course, Your Majesty! Thank you for your assistance.”

There was an awkward stretch of silence as the king continued to look at him rather pointedly, and it took a few moments before realization dawned on Kim Sunghan.

“Then, I’ll take my leave now,” he added hurriedly, rising to his feet.

“Is there a need for him to rush back so urgently?” Han Yoojin asked with bemusement, watching Kim Sunghan scurry away like a rabbit. Now that it was just the two of them left, he reached out to grab Sung Hyunjae’s hand and tugged him impatiently in the direction of home.

“Sir Kim might be preoccupied with some matters requiring attention at home,” Sung Hyunjae said with mild amusement.

Han Yoojin shot him a suspicious look. “As I thought, you were taking your frustrations out on him?”

Sung Hyunjae hummed innocently. “If it was to our mutual benefit, surely, the specifics can be overlooked?”

Han Yoojin snorted, but afterwards, he fell into a pensive silence. “... It was really that frustrating? To the point that you had to find a punching bag.”

“It’s good to find a healthy outlet for these things,” Sung Hyunjae said with candor. “Better than accidentally taking them out on a more fragile target, for example.”

“I see,” Han Yoojin said dryly. “Elite-ranks have all sorts of troubles that the rest of us can’t understand.” After another pause, he added, “Is there anything that would help improve Sir Partner-in-Crime’s mood? A bedtime story, perhaps?”

“Come to think of it, I can’t recall ever being told a bedtime story before,” Sung Hyunjae mused. “And in my partner’s sweet voice, besides. What a truly special gift.”

“... Then, you should properly treasure this one,” Han Yoojin told him. “I haven’t told a bedtime story since Yoohyun was twelve.” He cleared his throat. “How about this—Once upon a time, there was a king who had too much free time on his hands because he kept pushing his work on other people and pestering his subordinates. One day, they became fed up with his pranks and decided to get revenge by going on strike. And from then on, mm, the king had to pull the tails off his shrimp with his own hands. Really quite tragic. The end.”

“What a lovely tale,” Sung Hyunjae commented. “The moral must be to learn to enjoy shrimp with the tails on. In that case, I daresay I’m already succeeding with flying colors.”

Han Yoojin wrinkled his nose. “What are you, some kind of fairy tale creature? Are you trying to become the subject of a riddle? ‘What eats bread with the crusts off but shrimp with the tails on?’ Certainly, no one would think to answer, ‘His Majesty.’”

“Being a fairy tale creature doesn’t sound too dull,” Sung Hyunjae answered with amusement. “If I’m a fairy tale creature, this must be a fairy tale world. Then, where is Cinderella?”

Han Yoojin laughed dryly. “Probably busy petitioning for divorce.”

Sung Hyunjae glanced at him curiously. “You don’t believe in her happily ever after?”

“What is there to believe in? A matching shoe as the basis for union, when the other party couldn’t even remember her face?” Han Yoojin asked sarcastically. “Should we inform the matchmaking profession that they might as well all become cobblers instead?”

Sung Hyunjae smiled enigmatically. “You’re mistaken, my dear partner. The shoe was necessary because she ran the first time, you see.”

Han Yoojin raised an eyebrow.

“When hunting a rabbit,” Sung Hyunjae explained, “it’s not enough to chase blindly. You have to drive it into a corner, or herd it into a snare. Do you think the prince would foolishly believe that the princess who ran yesterday would happily step forward today? ‘You must be mistaken, how could I be the person you met last night?’—when those excuses crop up, the glass slipper is the snare, you see.”

“You’re quite the expert,” Han Yoojin said, fixing him with a reproachful squint. “I suppose I should let you tell the bedtime stories instead, then.”

“Not at all,” Sung Hyunjae disagreed lightly. “I understand far less than I would like. Why Cinderella ran away in the first place, for instance. Perhaps my partner would understand better than I?”

Han Yoojin’s eyes flickered to him, his expression slowly settling into a frown. “… It’s just a story for children,” he said finally, after a long pause. “There’s no need to think too deeply on it.”

“Aren’t stories for children the ones that we think about the most deeply? Since they carry such pertinent lessons for life,” Sung Hyunjae answered softly. “Yoojin. Is it because of her family? Having experienced estrangement in the past, she’s learned to see its specter in the future?”

The hand gripping Sung Hyunjae’s squeezed tighter, and Han Yoojin let out a bitter laugh. “It’s not so complicated as that. Well—something like that leaves an impact, of course. If it can happen even with your beloved family members, what guarantee is there with a stranger? But the story is very clear, isn’t it? The bell struck midnight. The spell was about to break. She wasn’t supposed to be there in the first place—of course she would run.”

“The spell was just clothing,” Sung Hyunjae murmured. “Surely she didn’t think their lovely evening was because of that?”

Han Yoojin threw him an impatient look. “That’s something you can only say when you already belong at the ball. For the rest of us, how we dress makes a great difference, you know.”

Sung Hyunjae’s steps stilled, their connected hands pulling taut as Han Yoojin continued to walk forward. Feeling the sudden resistance on his grip, Han Yoojin turned around to look at him questioningly.

“I see,” Sung Hyunjae said. “I understand a little better now. What Cinderella needs—it’s time.”

“Time?” Han Yoojin asked, mystified. “What would that solve?”

Sung Hyunjae smiled gently. “Shall I carry my partner home?” He proposed, instead of answering. “It’s a long walk back.”

Han Yoojin shot him an exasperated look, but rather than protest, he only raised his arms quietly to make it easier for Sung Hyunjae to gather him up and lift him. Perhaps for the sake of balance, or perhaps as a subconscious holdover from when his skill had necessitated that they remain in contact, his partner always clung to him tightly, delicate fingers digging into Sung Hyunjae’s shoulder whenever his arms weren’t wrapped around Sung Hyunjae’s neck. It was one of the many small delights that made carrying him like this such an enviable position.

“It was around here,” Sung Hyunjae commented idly. “Where our Comet was found. It seems she’s growing well.”

“Of course,” Han Yoojin responded immediately, almost smug in his self-satisfaction. “Who do you think our Comet is? She has Blue to practice flying with, and Yerim and Peace both like to play with her. She’s naturally curious anyways, so she’ll grow up to be quite clever, our Comet. Even other dragons will have trouble keeping up with her.”

“How can you be sure?” Sung Hyunjae questioned. “As far as I know, my partner hasn’t gained the power of prophecy.”

Instantly, Han Yoojin bristled at the perceived slight, his eyes narrowing in the portent of a sharp retort, and the corners of Sung Hyunjae’s mouth rose of their own volition at the cute sight. Nonetheless, he continued before his partner’s feathers could be ruffled any further. “Yoojin,” he said, “Do you worry that the sun will cease to rise in the morning, or that the stars will fall out of the sky?”

There was a pause as Han Yoojin’s attention was sufficiently redirected, his keen eyes searching Sung Hyunjae’s face for the anticipated trap in his words. “... Should I?” He asked warily.

Sung Hyunjae couldn’t help a laugh at that. “Not as far as I know. But don’t you think it’s strange? You don’t worry about whether Comet will grow up well, and you don’t worry about whether the sun will rise the next day, but you’ll fret over things like whether the princess belongs at the ball.”

“... How can those things be remotely comparable?” Han Yoojin stared at him as if he’d lost his mind.

“They are, though. You’ll see. When something happens once, it’s coincidence. Twice, and it’s probability. But if it continues day after day, year after year, lifetime after lifetime? That’s the difference of ‘time.’”

His partner’s lips twisted in bitter humor. “Wouldn’t that be very dull for you? Experiencing the same thing, day after day.”

Sung Hyunjae tilted his head. “I would have said so, too. But I suppose that’s also a part of time. Even things that once seemed immutable can change.”

Han Yoojin’s eyes widened briefly, startled. “... You’re saying that you’ve changed?”

Sung Hyunjae nodded.

His partner hesitated. “... Because of me?”

“Who else would have the honor?”

Han Yoojin’s teeth worried at his bottom lip in silence for a few moments, his forehead adorably wrinkled as he slowly mulled over the thought.

“... If we’re talking about the time needed to change someone’s mind, though, it may not be a matter of days or months. With Your Majesty’s advanced age, can you afford to spend years waiting for something like that? Your hair might turn white and fall out before you see it.”

“Don’t they say that all good things are worth waiting for?” Sung Hyunjae said mildly. “As long as my partner isn’t the one to scorn me when the time comes.”

Han Yoojin’s eyes flickered to his face with an expression of exaggerated disgust, which was its own answer. Sung Hyunjae smiled knowingly.

“So, have I convinced Cinderella to try on the glass slipper?”

“... I will,” Han Yoojin said hesitantly, “think about it.”

“Think about it carefully,” Sung Hyunjae agreed. “For as long as you like. Because once you’ve said yes, it won’t be so easy to turn back.”

Han Yoojin shot him an impatient look. “I know that much. Besides, as for whose mind will change—that’s yet to be seen. Even something like marriage can be reversed, after all.”

“... Yes, it can, can't it? That does bring up a concern that’s been on my mind recently,” Sung Hyunjae said pensively.

“Oh? And what’s that?"

“Yoojin,” Sung Hyunjae said in a serious tone. “For the sake of ensuring our kingdom’s future peace and harmony in advance, should I outlaw the practice of divorce?”

Though it was just a set of ordinary—if elegant and expensive—wooden doors, every hair on Noah’s skin stood on end standing in front of them. His cold and clammy hands curled into fists, then forcefully unclenched.

“Noah Luire, Your Majesty,” he said quietly. “Permission to enter?”

“Come in,” came the new king’s elegant voice through the door.

Taking a deep breath, Noah pushed open the double doors, stepping inside. It was just an office, but with the way the king held himself, fully commanding the presence in the room, he might as well have been seated atop his throne. He didn’t even pause to look up from his writing as Noah walked in.

“It’s good to see you well, Senator Luire,” Sung Hyunjae said lightly. “Due to some recent developments, it seems I’ll be taking a short trip out of the country soon. So our plans will have to be moved up a bit ahead of schedule. There are some other arrangements that I’ve modified, as well.”

He pushed forward a few sheets of paper, and Noah received them carefully, reading through their contents quickly and thoroughly. The numbers looked mostly the same as before, with some slight differences. Adjustments to the positioning and reinforcement of hunter outposts in the Republic.

“Please make sure to propose these adjustments at the next session of the Senate,” Sung Hyunjae instructed.

Normally, changes of this importance would be outside the jurisdiction of a senator as junior as Noah. But from experience, he knew that as long as he proposed the plan, Sung Hyunjae’s other pieces in the Republic would work silently to make sure that it moved along. That was his role in this—to be an obedient mouthpiece, and to reap the credit for successes that did not belong to him.

He knew enough at this point not to ask idle questions. Sung Hyunjae rarely deigned to answer, and even when he did, his responses tended to be riddle-like and incomprehensible. Still, when he thought about remaining a clueless chess piece for the rest of his life—for some reason, something compelled Noah to open his mouth.

“Your Majesty,” he said carefully. “The way the outposts are planned. Is it that…. Does it mean that, it’s truly impossible to fix the Wall?”

At that, Sung Hyunjae’s pen finally stilled, and he looked up at Noah, his golden eyes unnerving—inhuman, even, though Noah himself was hardly one to comment on such things.

“It’s good practice to prepare for even the most unlikely of outcomes, Senator Luire,” Sung Hyunjae said in a mild tone.

It was a non-answer that sounded like an answer. Noah had already fallen for such traps in his words more than once, but failure, though bitter, was an effective teacher.

“Then, in this case, how unlikely of an outcome is it?” Noah persisted.

Sung Hyunjae’s gaze sharpened, and a cold sweat broke out on Noah’s back. Immediately, he regretted asking the question. Why had he stuck his neck out for such a useless reason?

But, when Sung Hyunjae opened his mouth again, it was only to speak in a pensive tone.

“Few things are truly impossible, Senator Luire,” he murmured. “It’s only a matter of the cost.”