Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

The mist was fathomless.

Cool and heavy as it settled across the landscape like a dying breath, swallowing up sound and color until the only thing that seemed to exist was gray. 

Gray rocks. Gray light. Gray silence.

And then, only a small voice managed to break it.

“...Hello?”

It was a whisper more than a question, trembling as it left her lips. 

A little girl stood alone among the ancient, crumbling ruins of her entrapment. Barely five years old, and small enough that her knees barely reached the top of a broken statue beside her. 

Midnight black hair came down to her shoulders, tousled by the fingers of sleep. While glimmers of silver and violet patterns danced faintly at her temples, down her arms and legs, pulsing with light every time she blinked. 

Like they were alive.

She wore a pair of shorts and an oversized shirt, where the hem brushed against her calves. Though, it seemed her feet were bare, even pale, toes curling with every tentative step across the cold ground as dirt clung to her ankles like ash.

She hugged herself tightly, glancing around the endless, haunted lands.

Old pillars. Some broken, some leaning at strange angles, jutted out of the ground; comparable to the reaching bones of something long dead. The air was just as eerie with the whisper of wind and hollow…. a storm forever trapped on the edge of happening. 

When she took a step, a rock clattered away and echoed, making her flinch.

“H-Hello?” she tried again. “Is someone... is someone here?”

Still, no one and nothing answers.

She started walking. One foot. Then the next. Her lips were pursed like she was trying very hard not to cry, while her wide, glossy eyes reflected the darkness trying so hard to scare her into defeat. 

As the fog drifted and swirled, it made shadows dance in various shapes. 

Silhouettes of people, animals, claws. 

Something behind her. 

She spun quickly, but was left at a loss. 

Instead, her foot caught on a rough piece of stone sticking out of the dirt, and she pitched forward with a small yelp. Her hands flew out to brace herself from impact with the ground, but one of her knees was scraped in the process, leaving a bright streak of red on her pale skin.

She sat up slowly, sniffling. 

Even more dirt clung to her fingers and smeared across her cheeks when she rubbed her eyes.

“Mommy...” she mumbled helplessly.

Now, she allowed her lips to tremble as she pressed her small hand over her scraped knee, but still blinked back tears like she knew she shouldn’t cry too loudly here. It didn’t feel safe and yet, her voice returned anyway.

“Daddy...?”

Of course, with her little mind, she could only hope either of them would answer. 

She kept walking.

Her knee throbbed, but she barely noticed anymore. The sting had dulled into a background ache, overpowered by the unease curling in her chest. The underworld seemed endless. Every step forward only led her deeper into the unknown. Her breath came in soft puffs, visible in the cold, and the wind began to howl gently in her ears. 

Just a whisper at first, then louder, ghostlike, almost like voices playing tricks in the mist.

But then—

A sound broke through the silence.

At first, it was barely there; the plucked string of a bipa, soft and slow, rising out of the distance like a ripple across water. Delicate, beautiful. Unnatural. And something else, a voice.

Humming.

The melody was as soothing as a lullaby. So much so that the little girl froze, blinking with recognition. She tilted her head, strands of black hair falling across her cheek as her eyes widened. It wasn’t the kind of song that made her feel scared. 

It felt familiar.

Something she had once heard through a door, in a dream.

Drawn forward like a moth to the light, she followed the sound. Her bare feet padded softly over stone and dirt, through a thin layer of mist that clung to the ground. The jagged landscape began to shift, to curve inward, funneling toward something up ahead.

The air thinned slightly, and that’s when she saw it.

A great tree stood wedged impossibly between two old, worn hanok gates, as though it had sprouted right through the wood and stone long ago. Its branches stretched far and wide, like a skeletal fan of life in this admittedly lifeless world. The bark shimmered faintly with veins of violet energy, crackling like stilled fire beneath its surface. 

The gates were mismatched—one scorched black, the other covered in frost. 

Neither led to anything on the other side. 

Just more mist. 

But the tree stood solemn between them, rooted in nothing but shadow and memory.

And high in its boughs, perched like a bird of myth, was him.

A figure with skin the color of soft dusk, light purple and cool like the inside of a shell. His body shimmered with dark purple patterns, curling across his face and hands in slow-moving arcs, similar to the ones that danced on her own arms. He wore flowing traditional hanbok, layered in deep black, and atop his head sat a tall, beaded gat—tilted slightly as if worn for charm rather than formality.

He was beautiful in a way that made the world seem to pause.

Yellow eyes, glowing faintly, peered down from his perch. They didn’t blink. They didn’t narrow. 

They only watched her calmly, curiously, and with an unreadable gleam. His clawed fingers still plucked at the strings of his bipa, each note deliberate, like a call to arms.

The little girl stared up at him, mouth slightly open, her earlier fear draining out of her with each note he played. She clutched her arm for courage and finally managed to ask, “...Are you the one humming?”

The demon chuckled, rough and melodic. He set the bipa down beside him, though the music continued to echo faintly in the air.

“Perhaps I am,” he said, his voice rich like warm tea. “Or perhaps the wind is simply feeling musical today.”

She blinked. “Where am I?”

“A good question,” he mused, leaning forward over the branch, resting his chin on his palm. “Though I find that ‘where’ is a difficult thing to define here. One might say you’re in a dream. Or a memory. Or someplace between everything and nothing.”

She frowned a little. “...That’s not an answer.”

That made him laugh again—just a bit, the corners of his mouth lifting. “You're quite right.”

“Who are you, then?” she pressed, stepping closer to the base of the tree. “Are you a ghost? Or a monster?”

“I’ve been called both,” he said smoothly. “But names are slippery things, aren’t they? What people call me and what I truly am may not be the same.”

She tilted her head, not entirely satisfied, but clearly more curious than afraid. 

“You look like me.”

That made the demon pause. He blinked slowly, then sat back with his hands resting on his knees. “Do I?”

And she nodded. “Your skin is like what I have sometimes. You have the patterns like my arms do too. And your hair’s kinda like my daddy’s.”

A brief flare of emotion passed behind his gaze, though he offered no response.

Similarly, the girl couldn’t help but glance down at her knee again, remembering it suddenly. She winced and reached to rub at the injury with her palm, prone to self-soothing.

From above, the demon only narrowed his glowing eyes. “Ah,” he affirmed. “You’re hurt.”

“I tripped,” her cheeks puffing up in embarrassment. “But it’s okay. I’m not crying.”

With a quiet flick of his fingers, the bipa dissolved into thin air, scattering like red mist. He stepped forward without stepping down, simply letting his body drift through the air, descending like a feather on the breeze. 

His robes fluttered around him, weightless, and the girl’s eyes lit up. 

She was awe-struck.

“You can fly!”

He smirked softly as his taesahye touched the ground before her. “Of course I can. What sort of demon would I be if I couldn’t float a little now and then?” He kneeled in one elegant movement, his face now level with hers as he studied the scraped knee, then lifted his gaze to her face. 

“Let’s have a look at this brave injury, shall we?”

“It’s not that bad,” she insisted, standing straighter.

“You’re a very silly girl,” he murmured more to himself than anything, a fondness in his voice that didn’t quite match his aloof expression. “Wandering alone in a place like this and brushing off bloody knees like they’re nothing.”

She blinked at him.

And then…she stared.

Now that he was close, she really looked at his eyes—golden and glowing, but not invoking what she assumed should've been fear. Not sharp or cruel or bloodthirsty. There was something warm in them, like candlelight, something loving. 

He noticed her silence, a gentle “what is it?” poised on his tongue before she hesitates and shakes her head.

“You’re not scary.”

That made him pause again.

“I was right before. You look like my daddy,” it sounded wondering, perhaps even factual, “he’s not scary either.”

At that, the demon didn’t respond for a long moment. The wind howled again behind them, but it felt far away. And then, softly, almost like it hurt to say; “Is that so?”

She nodded.

He offered her an unprompted smile, one that made her feel a little bashful, a little comforted.

“Then I hope, little one, that you remember what your father looks like.”

A whispered “I do.”

And she continued to watch him closely, her brown eyes so large and round beneath her lashes because he still knelt before her, bathed in the dull silver glow of the underworld’s strange, sourceless light,

Ancient. Handsome. Dangerous.

He let his gaze fall to her scraped knee again, tilting his head with mild amusement. “Would you like to see a magic trick?” he asked lightly, as if it were a secret just between them.

She perked up instantly at the mention, having only heard about such a thing on television or in books. “Really? You can do magic?”

“I can do many things,” one corner of his lips lifted into a wry smile this time, revealing a pair of sharp canines. “But this one’s my favorite.”

He lifted his hand slowly, fingers long and elegant, and pressed his palm gently over her knee. The warmth of his skin was odd as a current of energy hummed faintly beneath it, something electric but not painful, a slow crackle of light seeping into her skin like rain sinking into parched earth.

“Close your eyes.”

She obeyed, squeezing them shut.

“Now count to three.”

She took a breath. 

“One… two… three.”

And he lifted his hand.

When her eyes flew open, she looked down.

The scrape was gone.

She gasped—a proper, delighted little gasp—and crouched to touch the place where her skin had been raw and red just moments before. Now, it was smooth, as if nothing had happened at all.

“It’s gone!” she beamed. “It doesn’t hurt anymore! It’s really gone!”

The demon chuckled, folding his arms into his sleeves as he stood. “Magic,” explained simply.

“That was amazing!”

“I’m very good at what I do,” sounded as if the compliment was both obvious and well-earned.

The girl twirled once, joyous at the lack of pain in her leg, before looking back up at him like he was the most incredible thing she’d ever seen. Of course, that’s just when his smile dimmed just slightly, the look in his eyes becoming distant again. 

He turned from her slowly, glancing up at the misted horizon.

“I’m afraid this place isn’t meant for you. You’ve wandered too far. A human girl has no business walking alone in the underworld.”

His voice was kind, though left no room for argument.

She merely paused, however. 

“But I’m not just a human.”

“Oh?” he half-turned his head back to her.

She puffed out her chest proudly and tapped at the patterns that shimmered faintly across her collarbone and shoulder. “I’m a demon too. I have the marks, see?”

The way she stood there, proud and small and fearless, barefoot in a land that devoured even memories, was something sacred. Something rare. And for the first time, his smile wasn’t only amused. 

His fangs peeked from beneath his upper lip again. “Is that so?” he crooned softly, voice rich with affection. “Well then. I suppose you’ve got a little fire in you.”

“My daddy says so too.”

“All the more reason you should go home, little flame.”

He turned fully and began walking away, the folds of his hanbok trailing behind him like smoke. 

Her smile faded as she stood alone again. The silence rushed back in like a tide, and she felt it return—that slow creeping fear, cold and shapeless, crawling up from her stomach into her throat.

“I…” she started, voice small. “I don’t know how.”

But it didn't stop him.

“I don’t know where home is!” she called again, louder now, taking a few steps forward. “I don’t know how to get out of here!”

Still, no response.

“Ahjussi!” she cried out, running after him.

That seemed to finally be the thing that caused him to turn slightly, his glowing eyes narrowed to a fine point, and with an expression of clear offense flickering across his features.

“Ahjussi?” he echoed, arching a perfect brow.

She slowed beside him, out of breath and huffing. 

“I’m sorry. But I don’t want to be alone. Please.”

There was a beat of silence between them.

“Do I look old to you?”

The girl blinked up at him. “...A little.”

He made a sound of pure dramatic suffering and turned away with his hand over his chest.

“This is the worst day of my afterlife.”

She tugged lightly at the edge of his sleeve.

“Ahjussi, please?”

He looked down at her, and this time, his expression softened fully. She was trying so hard to be brave. Her little hands curled into fists at her sides. She had been alone in this strange world of mist and darkness, and even now, she had not cried.

He sighed, more to himself than to her.

“You shouldn’t be here,” he repeated, though not as firmly. “The doors between worlds don’t open easily, not even for someone with blood like yours.”

She blinked. “What kind of blood do I have?”

He knelt beside her again, hands resting on his knees. 

“Special blood.”

She tilted her head. “Is that why I ended up here?”

“Maybe,” he thought for a second. “Or maybe someone called you. Maybe you’re dreaming. Or maybe the underworld just... wanted to see you.”

She bit her lip, unsure what any of that meant. “But I want to go home now.”

Once more did he study her carefully, watching the shimmer of light dance beneath her skin like restless fire.

“All right,” he nodded once. “I’ll help you.”

“You will?!”

He raised a finger at her surprised gasp.

“But in exchange, you owe me a favor.”

Her expression scrunched up. 

“What kind of favor?”

He smiled slyly. “I’ll decide later. It might be something small. Or something important.”

And she considered this, then gave a small, serious nod. 

“Okay. I promise.”

He held out his pinky. 

“Swear it.”

She grinned and linked hers with his. 

“Pinky swear.”

There was a faint spark when their fingers touched, like the promise sealed itself in the air.

And far above them, the atmosphere shifted.

A gate that hadn’t been there moments ago creaked open in the distance, golden light spilling faintly through the cracks.

“Come, little flame,” the demon said, spawning a pair of comfy shoes on her feet before rising again with that same floating ease. “Let’s get you home.”

And so they walked together, side by side. Though really, he barely walked at all. His feet skimmed the stone with every step, gliding more than moving. The mist around them didn’t follow the wind anymore; it curled and parted like it was watching, parting wherever he specifically moved. Like the underworld itself knew to stay out of his way.

So happily did the girl’s arms swing at her sides now that the sting of her injury was gone, her new shoes making soft little taps on the stone. The world around them was still bleak but she didn’t seem so scared anymore.

“Ahjussi,” she eventually asked, glancing up at him.

 “You never told me your name.”

“I didn’t,” he stated firmly, eyes ahead.

“Well… can you?”

He considered this for a moment, then gave a mysterious hum. “I could. But names are funny things in places like this. Sometimes giving one away means giving away more than you intend.”

She frowned a little. 

“That sounds like a grown-up thing.”

“It is,” a huff and a wickedly small smile.

“You’re quite clever.”

She smiled back, then looked forward again, quiet for the barest of moments. This was a very important decision that made her think so hard, the space between her brows ached in concentration. Hm, well… she’s decided that she wants to give away at least this much. 

“My name is Areum.”

“Areum?”

She nodded proudly. 

“My mommy gave it to me.”

“Ah,” he tapped his fingers gently over the curve of his elbow as they walked. “Areum... 아름. It means ‘beautiful,’ like Areumdapda. Or sometimes, ‘true to yourself.”

“Really?”

He nodded.

 “A very nice name. It's fitting.”

She was pleased at his words, nodding along with him. 

“Mommy said it was for when I have bad dreams or when I meet mean people. So I remember I am beautiful even when the world might say otherwise.”

He didn’t say anything for a moment, only let the sound of their steps and the wind stretch out between them.

Then finally…

“That’s a good thing. Your mother must be wise.”

“She’s really pretty too,” Areum added with the seriousness of a child." She sings sometimes when she thinks I’m sleeping. My daddy likes to hear her sing, too.”

“I think I’d like that as well.”

They continued on, and the mist began to change.

It thinned not out of mercy, but transformation. The gray fog gave way to something else. The ground began to slope, like they were descending into a canyon made of stars and night. The light turned darker and bluer in places, like the cosmos itself was trapped behind walls. 

And soon, she heard voices. 

Shifting, distant laughter. 

Growling. 

Whispers with no source. 

Footsteps that echoed with no form.

She moved closer to him.

“The underworld has many layers,” he explained quietly as he scanned the shifting landscape. “It is fathomless. Boundless. An ocean turned inside-out.”

“What’s this layer?” she asked, voice smaller now.

“The first of many,” he answered. “That mist you woke up in? That was the threshold. The place between dreaming and falling. A place for souls unsure of where they belong.”

She looked back once. The fog had disappeared behind them. Like it was never there.

“This is where the real underworld begins.”

They didn’t step into a crowd all at once. It was slow, with things beginning to move in the shadows again. Crawling figures with too many legs. Some with faces, some with none. Some with too many eyeballs. Some floating like paper lanterns made of skin. Others lurching, dragging tattered limbs behind them. 

Their colors were wrong, drenched in hues that didn’t exist in the living world.

Some muttered to themselves. Some laughed. A few stared straight at her.

Areum stopped.

Her breath caught, and her hand instinctively reached for the hem of his sleeve again. 

“They’re…”

“Demons,” he said simply.

She gripped the fabric tighter. 

“Are they going to hurt me?”

He didn’t answer right away.

Then—he held out his hand.His clawed fingers were steady, palm open and waiting.

“They won’t if you take my hand.”

She looked at it for a moment, unsure. But dares not wait longer than necessary, reaching out and placing hers into his, so much smaller and warmer by comparison. 

The moment she did, a current seemed to form between them. Her patterns gleamed brighter, as if recognizing something in him. The patterns on his own skin responded in turn, lined along his wrist and forearm glowing faintly. 

“Stay close.”

And she nodded.

As they walked deeper, the other demons gave them a wide berth. Some hissed. Some bowed. Some simply vanished at the sight of him.

Areum glanced around nervously. 

“Why are they scared of you?”

“Because I remind them of what they once were,” he said. “Or what they fear becoming.”

“That’s confusing,” she mumbled.

“Exactly,” he replied with a grin. “That’s the whole point of the underworld. Confusion. Memory. Fear.”

She looked up at him again, clinging tightly to his fingers. “But I’m not scared. Not when I’m with you.”

He didn’t respond to that.

Not right away.

But his hand curled a little more firmly around hers.

The landscape stretched before them for the nth time. Columns made of bone, trees that wept smoke, rivers that ran backward with blood. A half-sunken shrine loomed ahead, casting shadow and light in strange, intersecting shapes.

And through it all, they walked.

One strange little girl and one demon older than memory.

Built into the slope of the earth, it looked nearly swallowed by the land, its curved roof and stone lanterns tangled in black vines that writhed on their own. 

Strange writing in an incoherent language marked the walls. Some symbols glowed red. Others blinked like dying specimens of the ephemeral.

Areum squeezed his hand again, the instinctive press of her forehead into his arm caused him to slow his steps.

“We’ll pass through here,” is soft when it comes, delicately placed before a child so unaccustomed to such a scary world. “Just don’t stray.”

“Okay.”

As they stepped beneath the outer gate, the sound around them changed—less howling wind, more layered whispers. Chanting. Footsteps. The scent of ink and something sweet, rotting faintly at the edges.

Inside, the space was impossibly large.

It did not follow the shape of the hill or the path they had taken. The shrine opened into a wide ceremonial hall, tall enough to hold thunder. Pale strings of paper talismans hung from the ceiling, swaying with no breeze. 

And around the perimeter, seated in rows like monks or mourners, were demons.

Dozens of them.

No two were alike.

Some wore masks. Some were masks, their faces a stretched blank slate with mouths drawn in fascination. One had long wart-filled limbs and wore a scholar’s robes stained in blood. Another was skeletal, arms folded neatly, horned and smiling as though this were a gathering of friends.

They all had dark black, corroded patterns on their skin. 

Yet none of them spoke.

They only turned their heads when Areum entered.

More precisely—when he entered.

The man’s hand never faltered in hers. He didn’t slow or change expressions. Nor did demons rise or make a sound.

Her fingers flexed nervously in his grip.

“They’re all watching us.”

“They are.”

“Do they know you?”

He smiled. “Everyone knows someone here.”

She didn't quite understand. “What is this place?”

“One of memory,” he answered. “The second layer of the underworld. A place where stories sit. Not quite alive. Not quite dead. But forever told to their protagonists.”

She glanced around at the demons again. None had moved, but she could feel them… waiting, istening.

“What kind of stories?”

“The kind people leave behind when they’re trying to forget, thus, this is their punishment.”

They walked between rows of the seated demons like guests being led down an aisle. The floor beneath them changed with each step. Sometimes wood, sometimes stone, sometimes a slick black glass that reflected their forms as distorted.

At the center of the shrine was a low altar, and behind it stood a statue. Tall. Regal. It was shaped like a man, but not human. Horns curled from the figure’s head like a crown. Its eyes were blank, but crying, and from its tears, dark violet patterns spread all over the body.

In its hands, it held a blade behind its back—and a bipa in front of its stomach.

Areum stared up at it. “Is that a demon, too?”

He was also already gazing upon the statue, and for a long time… he did not speak. 

“Yes.”

“Was he important?”

“Yes.”

“...Did you know him?”

I am him, is what he could’ve said.

Instead, he looked away.

 “Once.”

The shrine trembled almost imperceptibly, dust sifting down from the ceiling in a hush of remembrance.

But Areum didn’t notice the way the demons seemed to lower their heads, just slightly. The way their gazes avoided him now. Like they weren’t just acknowledging him.

They were revering him.

She was distracted, anyway, her attention caught on something else; a strange creature crawling along the ceiling, a long eel-like body with eyes on its hands and wings made of feathers.

It hissed as it slithered across the archway, then dropped from the ceiling.

She gasped and flinched, but before it landed, it had stopped in a blur of motion. 

Mid-air.

The man raised a single hand, and the creature hovered as if pinned by an invisible nail. It squirmed, rearing, then shattered within the force of a sudden pressure.

Areum turned to him. 

“You didn’t even touch it!”

“I didn’t need to.”

The talismans overhead began to flutter. A low sound built through the shrine—like a heartbeat growing louder, echoing across the walls, and then later accompanied by a low moan of anguish.

“This place doesn’t like you,” she whispered.

“It doesn’t hate me either.”

“Why are they all just… sitting here?”

“Because they’re waiting for a story of their own that never ends, an atonement for their sins, for letting their shame consume them” his tone turned a little quieter. 

“And they know I’m not here to finish it.”

The walls began to move. The shrine unraveled itself like paper burned at the corners. And the demons stayed seated, unmoving, as the world peeled away from them. He reached down and took Areum’s hand before she could grow afraid again. 

“It’s time to go.”

The world blinked as they stepped through the threshold beyond the altar, and suddenly the shrine was gone.

They stood now in a forest of hanging bells, thousands of them suspended, gently swaying. Each was different, of course. Some were shaped like animals, others like tiny hearts or flowers. Some rang on their own, chiming notes too high for mortal ears. Others made no sound at all, but trembled whenever movement passed beneath them.

Areum looked around in wonder.

“It’s so pretty here.”

“This is where names are kept.”

“Like mine?”

“Perhaps.”

They continued walking, bells chiming faintly above as she continued to glance around in curiosity. “Why do you know so much about this place, Ahjussi?”

He paused a moment before answering.

“I’ve been here a long time.”

“But you don’t live here, right?” 

He turned to look at her. “What makes you think I don’t?”

Areum tilted her head. “Because you’re nice.”

The man laughed.

“Thank you.”

And then, before her, one of the bells began to glow.

He stopped. She did too. And then it began to lower itself down, inch by inch, until it hovered just in front of the young girl with an airy voice whispering from inside. 

One word.

Her name.

Areum.

She blinked. “That’s me.”

“The underworld recognizes you now.”

“Does that mean I can go home?”

“Almost.”

“But not yet?”

He knelt beside her again. “Not yet.”

“But I thought we were going the right way,” a frown made its way to her face before she could register the feeling of a hand gently ruffling through her hair. 

“We are,” he assured. “But some journeys take more than you expect.”

He reached up then, and gently touched the bell with his fingertip.

The light dimmed and it drifted away.

Deep in the distance, behind the hanging veil of chimes, yet another strange door appeared. 

One crafted from a deep, moonless black.

Areum reached for his hand again and without a word, he gave it to her.

Together, they walked on. The bells faded behind them, one by one, their songs dying out into soft, lingering silence as the landscape stretched again—longer, flatter, stranger. 

The ground had turned to a dull, pink slate that reflected the sky above it, though no real sky could ever look like that. Streaked with orange and deep red veins. They passed valleys of brown glass reeds, and staircases that led nowhere. Once, they even walked past a field of withered locusts floating above ground, spinning in slow orbits, muttering to each other in despairing voices.

And through it all, Areum grew quieter.

At first, she just stopped asking questions.

Then she started dragging her feet.

And eventually… she stopped walking entirely.

“Ahjussi,” she whined, tugging on his sleeve.

He glanced down with one brow arched, eyes still glowing softly. 

“Yes?”

“My feet hurt,” she declared, dramatically. “And I’m tired. And your legs are too long.”

He blinked, clearly trying not to laugh. “My legs?”

“They’re stupid. They go too fast. You walk like a crane.”

He made a deeply offended sound. “A crane?”

She threw herself against the front of his legs, arms wrapping around one like a post. “I’m done. I’m tired. I’m not walking anymore.”

He looked down at her in exasperation, though the corner of his mouth twitched with amusement. “You were doing so well just moments ago.”

“I changed my mind,” she mumbled into his robes. “I’m not a flame anymore. I’m a tired little cloud.”

The man sighed, long and dramatically theatrical. “What a tragedy. The brave adventurer was defeated not by monsters or curses—but by sore feet.”

She nodded solemnly into his clothes. “You should carry me.”

“I am not a horse.”

“You float. That’s better.”

“True,” he admitted, as though thinking this through with all the weight of a philosopher.

Still clinging to him, she sniffled again, which caused him to click his tongue. “Well. I was going to wait a little longer before doing this. But I suppose you’ve earned a small reward.”

Her eyes peeked up from the folds of his sleeve.

He turned away from her slightly, lifting one hand as the patterns on his skin shifted, flashing brighter, and for a moment, everything stilled completely.

First, with a flutter of wings and a musical tink, a black-and-white magpie appeared midair. But it was unlike any bird the underworld had ever seen. Perched atop its little feathered head was a perfect miniature gat, tilted just so. Its feathers gleamed like polished ink, and in the center of its face were three yellow eyes arranged in a vertical row—each blinking independently as it ruffled its wings and gave a smug little chirp.

“Sussie!” Areum gasped in delight, releasing the man and stumbling toward the magpie.

“You’re here! You’re real!”

The magpie swooped once over her head, then landed daintily on her shoulder, trilling proudly in a way that the little hat didn’t so much as wobble.

But that wasn’t all.

A low rumble followed, shaking the slate beneath them.

Something huge stepped forward from the shimmering horizon, something blue and grinning.

A tiger, broad as a cart and sleek as a dream, padded silently toward them. Its stripes glistened black, and its eyes—wide and round and permanently cheerful—blinked in sync with its enormous grin. Its fangs, huge and curved, seemed stuck in that upward curl, making it look eternally delighted to exist.

“Derpy!!” Areum shrieked with pure joy.

The tiger let out a warbling purr and flopped dramatically to the ground in front of her, rolling once before lowering its shoulder like an invitation. Of course, she sprinted over and practically threw herself onto its back, squealing as she buried her face in its fur. 

“How did you know! How did you do this?”

The man folded his arms into his sleeves, feigning modesty. 

“I may have peeked into your memories. Just a little.”

“That’s cheating,” she accused, though she was grinning wide.

“You would’ve asked me to carry you.”

“I was going to ask to ride your shoulders!” 

“That,” he said firmly, “would have been worse than being called ahjussi again.”

“You’re my ahjussi,” she teased, patting Derpy’s head. “You summoned my babies.”

He gave her a long-suffering look, but the fondness in his eyes still betrayed him.

The tiger stood again beneath her, steady and smooth, its massive body swaying gently with every step. Areum gripped its fur like reins, with Sussie fluttering ahead of them like a scout, looping back only every few seconds.

The demon walked beside them now, slower to match her new pace.

It was quieter again. The strange underworld grew dimmer, less hostile. The demons they passed still looked, but didn’t draw near. The presence of the familiars warded off most evil entities, while the man’s own aura discouraged the rest.

After a while, Areum spoke again.

“Do you get lonely down here?”

“Sometimes.”

“Do you have friends?”

He smiled faintly. “A few.”

“Do you ever go to the real world?” 

“Not as often as I used to.”

“Why not?”

He hesitated. “Because… the longer you stay here, the harder it is to leave. The underworld doesn’t let go easily.”

“Then how are you gonna leave?”

He didn’t answer right away.

“I don’t know.”

Areum looked at him for a long moment. Her brows pulled together. “That’s sad.”

He didn’t deny it.

But then glanced up at the magpie twirling in the air, looking free and positively carless. 

“Not always.”

The blue tiger gave a deep, rumbling purr beneath her.

Their strange little caravan traveled for ages before it seemed like they achieved any more distance. With Derpy’s wide paws padding silently across landscapes that shifted like thoughts, and Sussie giving up on circling the area, Areum eventually felt something changing in the air. 

The terrain began to grow more… tidy.

The slate underfoot softened into tiles carved with swirling floral patterns. The roots of dead trees now braided themselves into intentional shapes, twisting up into tall arches, creating a canopy that filtered the pale light like kaleidoscope glass. Ghostly butterflies floated past in small clouds, their wings slow and iridescent, whispering between flower-stalks taller than humans. There were lanterns too, stone ones alight with eternal fire inside them.

“Ahjussi,” Areum asked, voice hushed in awe, “is this still the underworld?”

“It is,” he replied, walking now with his hands folded behind his back. “Though you wouldn’t know it by the smell.”

She sniffed. It was faint, something like jasmine and summer water, clean and delicate.

“It smells like my mommy,” she said thoughtfully.

That made him look over at her, amused. “A lovely comparison.”

“I didn’t know the underworld had pretty places.”

“The underworld,” he hummed, “is vast. It reflects what’s left behind… not always what’s terrible. Sometimes people leave behind beautiful things too, like you, for example.”

Areum looked around as if trying to spot one of these "beautiful things."

But soon, the path became unmistakable.

They followed a bridge carved of obsidian over a flowing acid river. Ahead, hills gave way to grand steps and beyond them, rising out of the mist like a skyscraper, was a palace.

It loomed great and magnificent, stretching in sweeping wings, its tiled roof brushed with violet and black, curved like a dragon’s spine. Even the columns were carved with similar symbols and living ink as long silk banners fluttered down its front.

Areum’s mouth fell open.

“Woah…”

He smiled softly at her awe. “This is the Lotus Court.”

“It’s so big,” she whispered. “And clean.”

He chuckled. “The queen is very tidy.”

She gasped, grabbing Derpy’s fur with both hands to contain her excitement. “There’s a queen?! I didn’t know the underworld had a queen!”

“Oh yes,” he said lightly. “You can’t rule a place like this without some help.”

She squinted at him. “Are you friends with her?”

“Hm… you could say that. I guess we’ll just have to find out.”

Chapter Text

As they approached the gates, the guards bowed without speaking—tall spirits in masks shaped like wolves and fish, their robes like water. Not one of them looked surprised to see them. They only bowed deeper and opened the doors.

Inside, the palace was even more breathtaking. The floor was polished to a mirror, reflecting the ceilings painted with pink fire and various eyeballs. There were cherry trees growing inside , yes, inside! Soft petals drifting down from invisible breezes. Floating orbs of light hovered in each hallway, gently guiding the way like fireflies dressed for a formal event.

And in the center of the throne room, atop a curved dais surrounded by lily pools and moonlight, was the queen.

She was regal and radiant.

Her purple hair, a compliment to her pale skin, was long and gathered into a simple braid that almost reached the floor, adorned with jeweled pins. Her traditional hanbok shimmered with delicate embroidery, while patterned hands rested gently atop a rounded belly beneath the silk folds, and though she wore no crown, it was clear she needed none.

Areum stared.

The queen’s mismatched eyes, one brown and one gold, met hers. 

Familiar eyes. 

She smiled.

It was the kind of smile that made your chest ache even if you didn’t know why.

“Welcome,” the queen said gently. “I’ve been expecting you.”

“You have?” 

She nodded once. “Of course. I’ve been waiting a long time to meet you.”

There was a moment of silence.

Areum’s lips parted. 

“You look like… my mommy.”

The queen’s expression softened with something impossibly deep.

The man that had been Areum’s guide approached the throne but didn’t kneel. Instead, he took his place beside it, and for the first time since they’d met, she noticed, really noticed, how the court looked at him. The guards, the spirits, the demons… all of them dipped their heads in quiet respect.

And the queen leaned just slightly into his side.

Areum blinked. 

“Wait… are you the king?”

He tilted his head, pretending to think about the question. 

“Well. Technically.”

She gasped. “You lied! ”

“I didn’t lie ,” he said, raising a finger. “I simply withheld dramatic truths for a more theatrical moment.”

Sussie chirped as if to agree, while Derpy flicked his tail and let out a pleased, echoing growl.

Areum looked between them, her expression stuck somewhere between betrayal and wonder.

 “But—but kings are supposed to be serious and scary!”

“I am scary,” he huffed, drawing himself up proudly. “Very terrifying. Just ask anyone here. I’ve glared entire armies into submission.”

“Ahjussi,” she scolded, crossing her arms, “you talk to birds in hats and poofed a tiger named Derpy.”

“I am a king of many talents.”

She snorted despite herself, then grinned with a wrinkled little nose.

The queen watched the two of them quietly, her hand still resting on her stomach.

“Will she be safe here?” She was looking at the king now.

“Safer than anywhere else,” he murmured. “She’s made it this far, hasn’t she?”

“Not without help.”

“She asked very nicely.”

Areum tilted her head, and though it might not have been the best time, she still couldn’t help asking; “Is the baby coming soon?” 

The queen smiled again. “Not quite yet.”

“Do they get to ride Derpy too?”

“Only if they ask nicely like you apparently have,” she replied with a wink.

That made Areum giggle as the king put a hand on her shoulder.

“Now come, let us have dinner. You must be starving.”

And so, the little girl was led graciously though the palace she could only dream of living in. 

The doors they passed were each marked with hand-painted sigils and everywhere she looked, spirits tended to the space. Not the frightening kind. They bowed when the king passed. 

Some even bowed to her.

And of course, the banquet hall was already waiting for them.

A round table sat low to the ground, surrounded by crimson cushions. Dishes already filled the space, covered by silver lids and garnish.

Areum’s eyes widened the moment she stepped in.

“It’s… pretty.”

“Of course it is,” the king said with a grin, gesturing grandly. “A proper palace deserves a proper feast. And a guest like you deserves a royal welcome.”

He bowed like an entertainer, and she giggled as she stepped forward and flopped onto one of the cushions. Derpy curled up beside her, a purring hill of contentment. Sussie hopped atop one of the gilded stands and chirped as if giving his own approval.

Then the queen entered, yet again joining them after freshening up.

She sat across from Areum without a word, folding her hands over her rounded belly.

Areum stared at her for a moment, trying to puzzle her out.

“You’re really the queen?” she asked eventually.

“I am,” the woman said with a soft smile. “Though sometimes I forget.”

“But… you’re different from a regular demon?” Areum said in a questioning tone, almost apologetically, then quickly added, “It’s okay if you are! I’m just asking.”

The queen blinked once, then looked at her husband, amused.

“I am half-demon,” she explained gently, turning back to Areum. “Only half.”

The young girl sat back, mouth forming a surprised “oh.”

“Really? You’re all… glowy and pretty, so I assumed you were just a special kind.”

“Well, you’re not the first to think that.”

The king chimed in from his seat with a gin. “It’s the presence. Very intimidating. Terribly regal.”

“You’re just saying that because you want the first bite of food,” she scolded, lifting a silver lid.

Areum leaned forward, instantly distracted by what was underneath.

There—perfectly ordinary food.

Hot, fluffy rice balls filled with vegetables and seasoned meat. Glazed chicken, braised radish, kimchi with slices of pear. There was warm broth, steaming and fragrant, and even fried tofu, sweet soy sauce glistening on its edges. Dessert trays held tiny mochi and pink-tinted pastries shaped like cherry blossoms. Bowls of cut fruit. Even a tall ceramic pitcher of yuzu tea.

Areum blinked. “This looks like… real food. ”

“What were you expecting?” the queen asked.

“I dunno,” she poked at a piece of tofu with her fork because she couldn't quite figure out the mechanics of chopsticks just yet. “Maybe… shadow worms? Ghost soup? Screaming rice?”

The king cackled. “ Screaming rice?”

“I was prepared! ” Areum insisted, already stuffing a rice ball into her mouth. “Mmhf. Ish delishus. ”

The queen covered her smile with her sleeve, watching the little girl eat with something unreadable in her gaze.

For a while, the room filled with only small sounds—chopsticks tapping porcelain, Sussie pecking at a slice of pear, Derpy gnawing lazily on what the king claimed was a “spirit-beef bone.” Plates were passed. Teacups filled. Bizarre stories shared that made Areum snort water through her nose.

Later, when her belly was full and her legs were tucked beneath her, Areum leaned back against Derpy’s massive side and blinked sleepily up at the vaulted ceiling painted with silver leaves. .

“Hey… if the queen’s only half-demon,” she murmured, “does that mean a human can live here too?”

The king tilted his head, setting down his teacup. “It’s possible.”

“Even for a long time?”

“Longer than you’d think.”

The queen gave him a look.

But Areum merely yawned. “I didn’t know humans and demons could get married.”

He leaned closer, whispering like it was a secret. “Well, when they really like each other…”

“Ahhh,” she said knowingly, like a child who understood everything but actually nothing.

The queen hummed softly. “It’s not always easy. But it’s possible. And sometimes…” She glanced again at the king, then back to Areum. “It makes the strongest kind of magic.”

Areum rested her chin on her arms, blinking slowly. “I think I like it here.”

“You’re not afraid anymore?” the queen asked gently.

“Nope,” she said. “You have good food. You’re pretty. Your husband’s weird, but in a good way.”

“Thank you,” he said flatly.

She giggled. Then turned serious again, eyes searching the queen’s.

“Can I come back? After I leave?”

The queen’s expression faltered, just slightly.

So he spoke before she could. “If you ever truly need us, you’ll know how.”

Areum didn’t understand what that meant, but it made her heart feel heavy and whole all at once. She didn’t know yet that the underworld was already changing for her, that wherever she walked, it preened. That the realm itself bent a little around her, not because she was powerful, but because she was loved.

By it.

By them.

By something ancient and watching and kind.

After the feast, the halls bustled with contentment, and even the spirits walked more slowly, their robes brushing the floors like soft sighs. Areum stood nestled between Derpy’s sleeping form and the long trail of her queen’s skirts as they began walking together down a lonelier hallway, one scattered with displays of weapons and artifacts.

The king had been called away.

Something about a minor disturbance. He had been huffy about it and muttered something about "always being in demand," before smoothing Areum’s hair back and promising to return soon.

Now it was just her and the woman who ruled this place. Areum was stuffed and seriously drowsy, but her curious nature had her fighting to keep a steady mind, a hand tucked into the queen’s clawed one without fear.

“Where are we going?”

“My favorite room,” the queen said, voice warm. “It has more cushions and a warm floor. You’ll like it.”

She wasn’t wrong.

They entered a chamber bathed in pink light, where soft mats layered the floor, and wide circular windows opened out into a garden of toxic blooms and skeletal-birds that cooed softly in their sleep. The ceiling sparkled like stars had been trapped in the beams, and the whole place smelled good again.

Areum flopped onto the cushions without hesitation, arms wide, hair splaying out around her.

“Can I stay here forever?” she mumbled.

The queen chuckled gently as she settled beside her, robes fluttering around her knees like water. “You’d get bored.”

“No I wouldn’t,” her eyes were half-closed. “You have snacks. And pets. And you… my mommy.”

That made the queen go quiet for a moment. Then, very softly; “You miss her.”

Areum nodded without opening her eyes. “Mmhm. But I like you too.”

She sat up a little, landing an intense gaze on the queen’s rounded belly.

“Is the baby sleeping?”

“Maybe. They’ve been quiet for a little while.”

“Can I touch?” Areum asked, suddenly shy.

Though the queen didn’t hesitate. She reached for Areum’s small hand and gently guided it so that the girl’s palm pressed lightly to the silk-covered swell of her womb.

For a second, nothing.

Then— kick.

Areum gasped.

“It moved!”

The queen laughed into her sleeve. “Yes. They do that when they know someone is nearby.”

“That’s so weird,” Areum whispered, amazed. “How did it get in there?”

The queen blinked once. Then smiled again, a small, slightly exasperated smile.

“Well… the king and I love each other very much, and one day, that love turned into a wish. And that wish grew very strong and decided it wanted to be a person. And so, here they are.”

Areum made a happy noise. “So… if I wish really hard, I could have a baby too?”

“Hm, not yet. You have to be a grown-up first. Your wishes are still growing.”

She seemed to accept that with great seriousness, nodding once. She was quiet for a while longer, her hand still resting on the queen’s belly, before sliding to the color crawling out from under the queen’s sleeve.

She blurted out; “We have the same patterns.”

Which made the queen visibly stiffen. “We do.”

“Yours are brighter though,” Areum said, tracing a faint shimmer of violet curling from her own wrist.

“They’re the same where it counts.”

“Mine get bigger when I’m mad, and if I’m scared or anxious. Is that normal?”

“It is,” the queen murmured. “They feel what you feel. And you feel a lot, don’t you?”

Areum looked down at her hands, then nodded again.

“Do you… ever wish you didn’t have them?” the queen asked gently.

Areum wrinkled her nose. “Why would I?”

She blinked, startled by the simplicity of it.

“I think they’re pretty like yours. And they make my body look special.”

The queen leaned in and brushed a few strands of Areum’s black hair out of her face. Her hand lingered on the girl’s cheek. “You’re absolutely right,” her voice was ever so soft as she looked upon her with loving eyes. “They do.”

Then, with all the gentleness in the world, she bent down and pressed a small kiss to Areum’s forehead.

It was soft.

Warm.

Motherly.

Areum blinked hard—and now, the room felt a little blurrier.

She still didn’t cry, because she felt comforted. But she nestled a little closer to the queen’s side after that, resting her cheek against her arm.

“I miss my mommy.”

“I know, little one,” she validated those concerns, stroking Areum’s hair until the young girl eventually dozed off. And they stayed like that for a while, just sitting in the hush of the chamber, listening to the garden breathe through the open windows.

Until— footsteps echoed down the hall.

The queen lifted her head first, eyes glowing faintly, as the king reappeared at the doorway.

He looked slightly rumpled, like he’d just scolded a few wayward Gods. His robes were a little wind-tousled, and his hair had come loose from behind one ear now that his gat was missing.

But the moment he saw them, his demeanor changed.

“Am I interrupting?”

The queen hummed. “We were just bonding.”

“She’s quite the force,” he said, crossing the room.

“Tell me something I don’t know.”

The king crouched beside Areum, brushing her hair back the same way his wife had done moments before. “I’m afraid we have to keep going, little flame.”

Areum didn’t move at first.

Then, slowly, she sat up, rubbing at her eyes.

“Okay….”

“You’ll see her again,” he assured, offering his hand.

Areum turned to the queen and, without a word, threw her arms around her belly again, careful not to squeeze too tightly. Of course, the queen hugged her back with both arms and whispered something into her ear that no one else heard.

They both smiled before the girl turned back to him.

“I’m ready,” she chirped.

And together, they left such a lovely memory behind in order for the journey to continue, marked only by the palace gates shutting behind them and later fading like a mirage swallowed into mist.

It wasn’t long before the world changed again.

It always did, just as Areum was growing used to the last form it had taken. This time, the layer didn’t rise or sink. It unfolded outward like a vast fan opening beneath their feet, and again, there was dirt. The ground cracked in sweeping curves, while sparse and twisted trees jutted up from the crevices and sinkholes. 

Areum rode Derpy in silence for a while, chin propped up on his striped shoulder, watching the world pass her by. Her earlier joy had quieted into something more pensive. 

She broke it at last with a soft voice. “I asked the queen how she got a baby in her belly.”

The man blinked, thrown from his thoughts, then let out a quiet wheeze of laughter. “You did? ”

“She said it came from a wish,” Areum said seriously. “Because she and the king love each other a lot. ”

“She handled that better than I would’ve,” he muttered.

“She said the baby is made from strong love. Is that true?”

He walked with his hands tucked behind his back, expression unreadable.

 “Sometimes.”

“I liked her,” Areum continued. “She let me touch the baby.”

“Did they kick for you?”

“ Yes!! It felt like—like something tiny doing a dance.”

He huffed at that, lilting and faraway.

“Hey, Ahjussi… I noticed it’s always pretty quiet down here, except for the wind. It was lucky I heard your bipa when I did, what’d you do with it?”

“I left it with the queen.”

“Do you always play it?”

“Not always.”

“Do you like to sing?”

He chuckled. “Once, I didn’t. But now, yes.”

“Even for your family?”

The smile that followed was tender. “Only for them.”

Areum went quiet for a long moment, blinking at him.

“But I’m not your family.”

He didn’t answer. The same wind she mentioned rustled along the wasteland as Areum stared at his back. And her chest tightened. “Why am I not?”

He slowed a little, not stopping.

“That’s a complicated question.”

“I don’t think so.”

He sighed. “You’re not mine, Areum. Not in the way I was talking about.”

“But I’m yours a little bit, right?” she asked, straightening up on Derpy’s back.

His silence was too long again.

She huffed and crossed her arms. “ Whatever. I don’t care.”

“Oh, you definitely care.”

She scowled at him. “You’re mean sometimes.”

“And you’re very stubborn.”

“Maybe I should’ve stayed with the queen.”

“Maybe you should’ve,” he replied, voice maddeningly calm.

Areum looked away as the path narrowed, then widened again into a long, breathless stretch of decaying flowers—petals like ash, stalks bending low with rot. They swayed without wind, silent mourners lining the edge of a gaping chasm that split the land in two. A single bridge hung there, old rope and wooden planks swaying with every groan of the underworld. The man said nothing, but as Areum hesitated atop Derpy, he stepped closer and gently covered her eyes with one hand, to which she didn’t protest. 

Beneath the bridge, the pit writhed with limbs and faces twisted in silent anguish among eternal fire, their mouths moving without sound, only the faint whines of the dead echoing upward in broken lullabies. 

The tiger crossed slowly, carefully. 

And the king never uncovered her eyes. Not until the earth was solid again.

“Do you have a daughter?” Areum asked suddenly, perhaps to distract herself from the terror.

He blinked. “No.”

“Did you ever want one?”

“I don’t know. There were years I didn’t want anything.”

Areum glanced down, picking at one of Derpy’s soft tufts of fur. “I think I’d be a good daughter,” she murmured.

He looked up sharply, but she didn’t notice. She was too busy pretending not to care.

Sussie fluttered down from wherever he’d gone and landed on the man’s shoulder, pecking his face once like a warning. He winced, brushed him away, and sighed.

“You are a good girl,” he said at last. “And…. I’m lucky to know you.”

“Doesn’t count,” she said flatly.

“Oh?”

“You’re just saying that so I won’t stay mad.”

“I never said I wasn’t manipulative. I’m a demon after all.”

She puffed up, cheeks full with the same pout she’s been doing often. 

“You’re so annoying.”

“And you’re five.”

“Five and a half!”

He chuckled at that, finally reaching out to ruffle her hair for the second time since meeting, a rather instinctual habit, as Derpy padded on. Areum looked up at him, her violet-silver markings glowing faintly in the strange light, her gaze searching.

Waiting.

He didn’t say the words she wanted.

Not yet.

They finally passed through another petrified stone archway. Beyond it, the world opened into a vast, sunless plain blanketed in a light fog and rivers of actual water this time, though would still probably not be regarded as safe to drink or bathe in. 

Above, the sky was clear , an impossible dome of deep blue-purple, dusted with slow-moving stars. Or… light meant to imitate what stars were like in a place like this.

And in the middle of that quiet plain, floating gently across the distance like something from a memory, was music. A slow, elegant rhythm. Laced with flutes and something hypnotic, also accompanied by more than just instruments.

There were voices.

Areum sat up straighter on Derpy’s back. “Ahjussi…”

“I hear it,” he said, narrowing his eyes.

A loud applause came shortly after as they climbed a gentle hill of smooth white stone, and once they crested the top, Areum gasped.

Below, an amphitheater carved directly into the rock glowed with lantern light, each flame suspended in the air without any string or pole. The crowd was small, gathered in the shallow rings of steps, mostly wraiths and wandering creatures who looked like they didn’t belong to any one world.

One in particular had long black hair, bawling their eyes out amidst the pandemonium of silly pastel shirts and light sticks.

All of them were transfixed by the stage.

Because on it—singing, dancing, twirling in coordinated flourishes—were four demons.

Areum’s jaw dropped.

“They look like… like you! ”

They did look like her guide. Or versions of him. Like someone had taken pieces of the king; his confidence, his beauty, his charm, and split them across four different personas, each dancing 

She waved wildly. 

“They’re so cool!! ”

“They’re trouble,” he muttered.

“Are they your brothers?”

He sighed.

“Not quite. They’re… extensions.”

“Of you? ”

He gave her a tight smile. “Don’t ask me to explain it.”

“They’re so good at dancing though.”

“Yes,” he admitted. “Annoyingly so.”

The one with blue hair had stopped rapping now, only mouthing along. His golden eyes flicked again toward the edge of the crowd—and then upward. And suddenly, all four of them stopped.

Just like that.

The music cut.

The lights dimmed.

And all four demons turned their glowing gazes up the hill in tow, straight toward the king and the small girl riding the sleepy tiger.

“Did… we stop the show by accident?”

The one with cropped pink hair was the first to move, descending the amphitheater steps with a casual grace, the others following with identical ease. They didn’t run. They didn’t float. They simply walked , like a storm on two legs.

When they reached the top, they formed a loose half-circle around the king and Areum as the crowd below began to murmur.

“Hyungnim,” said the one with the longer pink hair who had spoken first. “We weren’t expecting you.” And she noted how they didn’t address him with a royal title. 

“You never do,” he replied coolly.

“We were only entertaining them,” the one with the deepest voice supplied, looking a bit exhausted and perhaps, less inclined to formalities. “

The silver haired one, of whom Areum wondered how he could see, gave a dramatic sigh. 

“You haven’t visited us in ages. ”

“Who’s this little blossom?”

“Don’t touch her,” the king said instantly.

The demon didn’t flinch, however. Just smiled a little wider and tilted his head.

“She’s very pretty,” the pretty pink one purred.

“She has your eyes,” said another.

Areum flinched a little when they crowded her a bit too much, all gleaming teeth and yellow eyes that felt amplified by the darkness. 

The four looked at each other.

“Our apologies, small lady,” the mysterious one said sweetly. “We didn’t mean to scare you.”

“You didn’t,” Areum mumbled, feeling particularly stubborn.

“We don’t get many visitors here,” the red haired demon gestured vaguely. “Would you like to hear another song?”

Areum looked at the king.

He hesitated. Then gave the smallest nod.

She smiled, shy and proud. “Yes, please.”

The demons seemed joyous at her answer, so much so that when they turned back toward the stage, music had already started again—without instruments, without warning, rising from the air itself.

But Areum didn’t hear much of it.

She was watching her guide, the Demon King.

He looked… distracted.

Distant.

And a little too still.

She nudged him with her foot from Derpy’s back.

“Hey.”

He blinked, turning.

“You still don’t think I’m your family?” she asked quietly.

His lack of reply was disappointing as the music swelled below, with four not-quite-brothers dancing beneath the endless sky. Heading a show that went on long after the initial wonder wore off.

Areum clapped along happily for a while, tapping the tiger’s head like a drum, ruffling him from time to time, her little feet kicking in the rhythm of the beat. She laughed when one of them spun like a ribbon and gasped when another balanced on the very edge of the stage with his arms spread wide.

 It was fun. Strange fun, but fun.

They danced for him. For the King of the Underworld. 

But he looked as though he couldn’t hear any of it.

His fingers were clasped tightly together, knuckles pale. His golden eyes weren’t fixed on the idols, not really. They stared just beyond them, where the firelight of the stage faded into something colder. Like he was looking for something. 

She had never understood it before.

He was always kind to her thus far. Always soft-spoken, offering her safety and comfort in such scary lands, letting her rest in the company of her own pets despite her whining. He never frightened her, not like the others did. Not like the ones with too many of one feature, or none at all. The ones she still felt too young to question in a realm of apparent suffering, hidden beneath the beauty. 

And the queen, his wife, was just as kind and lovely. Discussing all the ways in which Areum had learned to respond towards questions about her patterns. Smiling like the moon when no one else did, and stroking her hair while she slept with a belly full of food. 

So how could someone so gentle, and having married someone of the same variety, look like he was being swallowed alive from the inside?

She fidgeted with the hem of her shirt, unsure of how to ask the question forming inside her chest. The question that had no words. Only a feeling—like watching someone carry something too big for their hands but never asking for help. Like being alone in a crowd and smiling anyway.

Was it the afterlife that hurt him? This strange world of ash and echo? Was it hard to be king here? Or was there something else buried deep inside of him, the kind of sadness that doesn’t have a name? Was it her own presence intruding on his realm?

She didn’t know how to fix it.

But she wanted to.

She wanted to reach out and take his hand and say, “I see you.” Even if she didn’t understand. Even if he couldn’t explain. Because maybe, she thought, that would be enough. Maybe someone just noticing was enough to make the heaviness a little lighter.

So she stayed. Quiet, but close. Watching with wide, thoughtful eyes as the fire danced and the music swelled. Not for the performers.

But for him.

It was only when the crying and applause from below dimmed to a hush. The lanterns flickered again, dimming with the last echo of the performance. The demons took their final bows and disappeared back into the red fog, one by one, leaving the crowd to disperse into shadowy trails of smoke and fading color.

The stage sat empty.

The plain was still.

And the man finally exhaled.

“Do you… not want me to be like you?”  

Areum finally had the courage to ask, when he turned to face her.

“No,” he shook his head. “It’s not that.”

“Then what is it?”

“I just…” He paused. It’s hard to believe that someone like me gets to have someone like you. ”

Areum wrinkled her nose. “That’s silly.”

He let out a low laugh—barely a sound at all. “It is. But it’s also the truth somehow.”

“Did someone tell you that? That you’re not allowed to have someone like me?”

“No,” he said. “No one had to.”

Her little brows furrowed.

And after a moment, “I think maybe you’re afraid.”

That made his lungs constrict for a moment before he cleared his throat.

“You’re very wise for five.”

“Five and a half.”

He smiled again, but it didn’t reach all the way.

“If this is a dream…” her expression faltered slightly, “would you be sad if I woke up?”

The king stilled.

The fog seemed to thicken again around them, a breeze curling between the stones, catching in the edges of Areum’s clothes. Her braid shifted slightly. Sussie let out a soft warble from above.

His answer came slowly.

“Would you be sad,” he said, “if this wasn’t real?”

“I… well.. I think I’d be confused. Because I love you already.”

His throat bobbed as he swallowed thickly, looking away in a haste and lifting a hand to his mouth like he could hold something in—words, feelings, memories. His shoulders tensed.

And then, with a voice so low she almost missed it, he said:

“I don’t want it to be a dream.”

Areum slid off Derpy's back without a sound and padded to his side. She reached up and tugged at the sleeve of his hanbok.

He looked down.

“I can stay a little longer,” she whispered.

His heart twisted.

He knelt beside her, eyes glowing faintly now, not with power, but with the sheen of something too long held in.

“And if it is a dream?” he asked. “If it fades tomorrow?”

“Then you’ll still remember me,” she said simply. “Dreams stay in your heart.”

He closed his eyes.

And for the first time in what felt like eternity, he reached out with both arms and pulled her in, holding her tight.

She smelled like warm skin and plum tea. Her little hands curled in the folds of his robe, and her markings, so faint and soft, glowed in the crook of his neck.

He held her as if she were real.

Because to him, she was.

And some dreams—maybe the best dreams—aren’t dreams at all.

They’re wishes that got tired of waiting.

The path from the amphitheater curved like a river of moonstone, wide and smooth and glowing faintly beneath their steps. Areum walked beside the man now instead of riding Derpy. The tiger prowled lazily behind them, yawning wide with that toothy grin. Sussie flitted from rock to rock, chattering softly to herself.

And ahead, just before the mist thickened again, the four demons waited.

The Saja boys, Areum had started calling them, giggling after she remembered what the word meant.

“Doesn’t that mean, like, grim reaper or something?” she asked him earlier with a dramatic whisper.

He’d smirked. “Something like that.”

“But they’re fun! ” she insisted, skipping ahead to meet them.

They were lounging now in casual post-performance ease, leaning against stones or standing with arms folded. One offered her a handful of candied lotus seeds. Another twirled a coin between his fingers and let her try it. while the rest wished her luck on her journey. 

She waved to them all with both hands before the mist finally took them again, their laughter fading behind her.

The layer they entered next was dark, colder. Rain fell in slow, fat droplets—red, like rubies melting from the sky, splashing silently on the rocks. Huge mountains loomed in the distance, jagged like broken teeth, and the earth opened in yawning cave mouths that exhaled steam and faint whispering sounds. The world here felt ancient. Worn. Dreamlike in the way nightmares sometimes are. 

Areum stayed close to his side.

And then she saw it.

A shape on the horizon. Sharp and modern, almost wrong against the wildness around it. A tall glass penthouse, its surface aglow with soft amber light, sat nestled at the foot of a mountain. It wasn’t burning, but it was ringed , wrapped protectively in a halo of soft pink fire, flickering like petals in a storm.

The flames didn’t spread.

They didn’t rise or fall.

They just shimmered in eternal wait.

Areum stopped.

Her voice was very quiet.

“That’s my home.”

He didn’t reply. He only stood beside her.

She took a few small steps forward, then paused.

Her fingers twitched.

Only then did she realize she was still holding his hand.

She looked up.

He was already watching her, that quiet smile on his face again—the one that didn’t ask for anything, didn’t demand, just was.

“You knew,” she said.

“I had hoped.”

“Do I have to go now?”

He nodded. “It’s time.”

She bit her lip, glancing at the house again. Then back at him.

“I don’t wanna forget you,” she said suddenly, blinking fast. “What if I do? What if I wake up and I don’t remember anything and I’m just normal again?”

“You’ll never be normal again, not after here. Not after us. ” he suddenly perched upon his knees, and what king would kneel in the dirt before a young girl just so they were eye level? 

“But…” she hesitated. “You said you’d be there. And so would the queen. But how? You’re… you’re here.”

He touched her cheek softly, a clawed hand gentle as wind when he caressed the side of her face.“We’re part of you now,” he whispered. “We’ve always been. That’s why you could find us. Why you came so far.”

Her eyes filled slowly with tears.

“But what if I need you again?”

“Then call.”

“Will you come?”

“Faster than the rain can hit the ground.”

She looked at the house still engulfed in flames, wondering how it was possible that it still stood without damage.

“What if I want to stay?” she asked, features wobbling with wet emotion. “What if I want to be part of your family too?”

The demon’s smile trembled, just a little.

“You already are.”

She stood still a moment longer, and he gave her that space. Then, slowly, she leaned forward and hugged him—tight, fiercely, like only a child could. He wrapped his arms around her in return, tucking his chin against her hair, and breathed in like he needed to memorize her.

“I’m gonna miss you,” she whispered.

“I’ll miss you more.”

“No, I will.”

He chuckled softly. “Always have to win, don’t you?”

She sniffled. “Obviously.”

Finally, she pulled away, allowing Derpy to pad close and bump her side. Sussie also landed on her shoulder with a chirp as she looked back one last time.

“Goodbye, creatures. Goodbye, weird underworld. Goodbye… your majesty.”

He smiled with his whole face this time, eyes glowing soft and gold.

“Goodbye, Areum.”

And with that—

She stepped toward the fire, into the house, brave in the face of danger.

It didn’t burn.

It welcomed her.

And as the pink flames surrounded her, soft as breath, her markings shimmered once more—bright, proud, and hers.

The underworld watched her go.

And somewhere deep within its heart…

She would always remain.

-·=»‡«=·-

Something warm stirred at her shoulder. A gentle hand, calloused from years of musical strings and kitchen work, pressed once, twice more, and then again, and it was the voice that followed that brought the first fracture of waking.

“Areum-ah... wake up, sweetheart. Morning’s here.”

She blinked slowly, lashes fluttering against the warm light pouring in through her curtains. Her bedroom was a nice sight, alive with the scent of grilled fish and garlic and the faint floral echo of fabric softener from her bedding. The stuffed tiger beside her had fallen over in the night. The pink blanket tangled at her feet. 

She rubbed her eyes with tiny fists and turned her head, cheeks flushed with sleep, heart still carrying the last silver thread of that dream—

And there he was.

Her daddy.

Not the quiet king with dark past curling like those patterns around his temples, not the tall uncertainty who’d walked beside her through every layer of the dream-world with unspoken gentleness, but her real daddy. Choi Jinu. Standing beside her bed with his smile already crinkling the corners of his eyes, his hair pushed back like he’d been up for hours, and wearing, of all things, a pastel apron with Kiss the Cook printed across the chest in English letters and a smudge of red pepper paste near the hem.

She gasped, and then without a word, launched herself into his arms.

He stumbled slightly, laughing, caught her in one smooth scoop, and spun her once, her legs curling around his waist like a koala bear. “Whoa—Areum-ie! Are you really that happy to see me? Did you miss me in your sleep or something?”

“You were there, ” she mumbled into his neck, arms locking tight. “But not you-you. But still you.”

He paused at that, his fingers automatically rubbing soft circles on her back, the way he always did. “Mmm. Sounds like a dream,” he said gently. “A long one?”

She nodded, still clinging. Her eyes were glossy with a strange weight she couldn’t quite name, something too big for five years old. “You were king. You didn’t say your name but you looked like you. You helped me go through all the scary places, and you were never mean.”

Jinu smiled, pressing a kiss to her hair. “Of course I wasn’t mean. I’d never let anything scare my little angel. Even dream-me knows that.”

She pulled back just enough to kiss his cheek under his eye in response to the phrase on the apron. He grinned wider, and in response, peppered her face with a flurry of kisses: her cheeks, her nose, her chin, even the tip of her forehead. She giggled in hiccupping bursts, curling from the ticklish smacks of affection.

“You smell like breakfast.“

“That’s because the real king of the house was cooking all morning.” He placed her gently on her feet and offered both hands like she was made of gold. “Let me guess—your highness, the young princess, would like a royal bath before breakfast?”

She nodded solemnly, though she yawned halfway through, and took his hands.

While he guided her to the bathroom, humming a bouncy trot tune under his breath from his idol days, she told him all of it—every strange, beautiful, aching piece of the dream. She told him about the demon markings, spiraling patterns like tattoos that shimmered across their skin, symbols she happily recognized.

Jinu knelt to wash her face with warm water, pausing for a second, eyes flickering with something thoughtful as he dabbed her nose. “Wow,” he murmured. “You’re telling me we looked even cooler, huh? Did we have capes?”

Areum rolled her eyes like a very tired old lady. “No, Appa. They didn't wear them but there were crowns. Real ones.”

He clutched his chest dramatically, fake-gasping. “My mistake! Royalty with no capes. What’s the world coming to?”

“That’s for superheroes.”

She giggled again, leaning into the towel he used to dry her shoulders and her underarms.

When he helped her into her favorite yellow dress, she looked up at him again, a question blooming behind her sleep-heavy lashes. “Where’s Eomma?”

He smiled instantly. “Holding court in the living room. I mean—sitting on the couch with her royal belly, scolding me for using too much soy sauce in the gyeran-jjim. You should’ve been there to protect me. I was defenseless.”

Areum gave him a look of mock judgment that only a five-year-old could manage. “You need better battle skills.”

He held up his hands. “I surrender.”

In the kitchen, the rice cooker let out its final puff of steam. The scent of miyeok-guk and sizzling jeon lingered through the air, paired with the homey fragrance of warm sesame oil and kimchi. On the table sat small plates of rolled omelet, anchovies, and radish strips glistening like soft jewels in the morning light.

The phantom feeling of what she ate in her dream deterred her for only a moment. 

Just as Jinu was about to carry her toward the breakfast table, the rustle of fabric and the soft tread of slippers reached the doorway, followed by a familiar voice tinged with playful exasperation.

“What’s all the fuss in here?” 

Rumi asked, one hand resting at the small of her back, the other curled beneath the round swell of her belly. She leaned against the doorframe, framed in the morning light that turned the edges of her purple hair almost pink. The buttons on her pajama top strained just slightly at the bump, and her expression was glowing with sleep and affection, her eyes already crinkled at the corners from watching the two of them.

Areum gasped again, like it had only just struck her that she hadn’t seen her mother yet today, and squirmed out of her father’s arms with the urgency of a comet falling to earth. Her bare feet padded across the kitchen floor in quick taps as she raced to meet Rumi halfway, arms outstretched but careful, always careful.

She didn’t throw herself into her mother like usual. Instead, she stopped just in front of her, lifting her small hands to rest featherlight on either side of her mother’s belly. With wide, reverent eyes, she leaned forward and kissed it gently, lips brushing the soft cotton fabric like a blessing. “Hi, baby Noah,” she whispered. “I missed you.”

Rumi’s hand joined Areum’s, brushing over the same spot. “He says he missed you too,” she murmured, cupping her daughter’s cheek as Areum looked up at her with light still shining in her gaze.

Then the girl climbed higher into her, wrapping her arms around her mother’s middle like the moon hugging the tide. Rumi tilted slightly from the weight, grunting once in amusement as she bent down to meet her daughter’s embrace properly. “Yah, you’re getting taller. Almost too big to carry now,” she teased, stroking the back of her daughter’s head. 

“What were you two up to in here?”

“Big stuff,” Jinu replied, wiping his hands on a kitchen towel and walking over with a smirk that only deepened as he reached for Rumi. “Our little adventurer had a nice dream, apparently. One I think you’d be quite familiar with.”

“Oh, really?” Rumi laughed, one brow lifting as she tilted her face toward him just in time for him to kiss her mouth—longer than a peck, but still tender, soft with the weight of time and shared understanding. It was a kiss full of small apologies and infinite reassurances, and the quiet language they spoke only to each other.

When they parted, Jinu stepped behind her and pulled out a chair at the breakfast table. “Come sit, she has so much to share with you too, your majesty,” he said with mock-formality, brushing her long cardigan aside so she could settle in. 

Rumi sat with a small sigh, hand still anchored to her belly. 

“Tell me everything, my love.”

And Areum did. Again.

The whole room seemed to lean in with her as she recounted the details, not unlike a child talking nonsense. She told them about the layers of the underworld; the river made of souls, the different types of demons, the palace, the spirits, the rulers. She told them how the king—her maybe-not-daddy with the same voice—held her hand through all of it, never letting her cry. How the queen was also with a child and they had a giant feast together. 

“And I had the demon patterns too,” Areum added seriously, tugging up her sleeve to point to her own little arm, where no marks were visible now that she was calm, but she could still feel the memory of their glow, those familiar scars, the spirals and curls that matched the ones she’d seen along her father’s back once when he was shirtless, or the ones that traced like constellations beneath her mother’s collarbone when she wore her tank tops in the summer. 

“Mine weren’t scary. They were pretty. Warm. They made me feel like I belonged.”

“You do belong,” Jinu assured gently, returning with a bowl of miyeok-guk and a plate of gyeran-mari shaped like little flowers. He set them down in front of his daughter like offerings to a shrine. “Those patterns—ours, yours—they aren’t something to hide. They’re proof.”

Areum tilted her head. “Proof of what?”

“That you’re made from something strong,” Rumi said, cutting a small square of omelet for her. “And something good. And something ours. You’re part of a long story, Areum-ah, and all of it is yours to love. Even the demon parts.”

Jinu took a seat beside them, reaching to squeeze Rumi’s hand once across the table, his thumb brushing the thin blue vein on her wrist. “Especially the demon parts. Because no matter what those dreams show you... the most important thing’s always real.”

Areum looked between them, her parents—the king and queen of breakfast, of lullabies, of midnights spent fighting off the monsters in her closet and carrying her through bad dreams even when they didn’t know they were in them.

Maybe….. even the true Underworld. 

“Love?” she whispered.

Jinu and Rumi grinned. 

“Exactly.”

She beamed back at them, heart close to bursting, and tucked into her breakfast, feet swinging beneath her chair, wrapped in morning, family, and a story bigger than she could name.

“What do you say we all have a little dance party in the living room to celebrate mine and your aunties’ new song?” 

“YEAH!!” 

Yes, Areum would choose them as her parents in every life time if she could. 

And in a single family, all of them were beautiful.

Now and forever. 

Just like her name.