Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

In the middle of the forest far from the main city in Halazia, there is a small town called Dezarim. The town that is not much but play a rather big impact into the society around them, where vampire can exist in the same area as human. 

Dezarim is unlike any other town. Its people guard traditions whispered through generations ritual and sacrifices that blur the line between faith and fear. For outsiders, it is a place of superstition. For those who live within, it is survival.

In a small town like this, one of the way to make a living is by selling products. As a way to survive this strict town, wooyoung help his father sell loads of antique stuff to the richs. 
Now, wooyoung is not from a rich family. But his family, which is him and his dad, never has any issue with money. He always have enough and whatever he want, his dad grant it for him. Yes he have a rough childhood, but who doesnt?

" Wooyoung, have u checked the stocks? has it complete yet? We need it to be done and complete by tonight." as wooyoung dad called him from the kitchen as he prepping their dinner. You see, wooyoung usually just stay at home and deal with the stocks and finance when it comes to his dad business, but since he's about to turn 18 soon he start to slowly join his dad to the customer household and negotiate to sell the product they have. But tomorrow is a special day for wooyoung because tomorrow is going to be his first ever mission to go to this one certain household to sell their products. " Yes yes, dad. I've checked for like millions of timeee, stop with the nagging." with that wooyoung walk to the dining room and start to prep the table. 

It is a normal night for wooyoung to have a dinner with his dad, not because it is out of love, but because its a norm to them. In this era where father and son never bonded much seems like the usual norm, eating together every night seems like a priviledge to other kids his age. 

But with wooyoung, he always has this weird tug feeling about his relationship with his father. Yes he and his dad seems close to the other eye, but only he knows the feeling of something never right. What happened to his mother? why he always feel like theres a fraction of memory he lost? His father did ever mention he ever goes into coma when he is young. But it doesnt make sense. The older he gets the more curious he got, and his father doesnt seems to like it. So in a way to distract that from him, his father start to make him work and send him to work with him. And so far seems like its working. 

As they enjoyed their dinner and greet goodnight, wooyoung left to go to his room. And every night, when his dad think wooyoung has gone to sleep, it is always never the case. You see, wooyoung is a cunning kid, he knows how to trick people right up his sleeves, he is also very aware of his surrounding. So when he start to feel like he is being watched on his every steps months ago, he start to play along with it. Act like he didn't know it was there, but he knew something is there. And he uses them perfectly. When he need something? he knew whoever was going to help him, even with whatever it takes. Wooyoung starts to adjust his books and mumbles, " Well, tomorrow im going to the kim manor, I hope I dont fucked up anything" when he knows they are listening, hoping for them to help him tomorrow as how it always been.

But he realizes this time, the aura feels different. He dont know what is but he can feel it. That intriguide him, what is the trigger? is it because he mention about kim manor? i mean he always say he going to do business so the only possibility is that. right?

After a few long thoughts he finally gave in and just lay down on the bed. As he about to fall asleep, he look thru the window, its a full moon. "I hope things go well tomorrow."

In the furthur part of the town, where houses is covered by hundred hectars of fields, a high fences and thick forest around them. Lives a coven called the Kim Coven. Which is well known to the people that lives in the town for their history. Dark history in fact. They are also notoriously known for their power, that's why no one want to deal with them unless they had to. 

" Where have you been? " as the tall one asking the other one that just entered the manor door. " …nowhere, just the usual strolling to the usual spot " the person said while pass the tall one.

" You know he wont like it when he finds out you keep going back there. " 

" If you're planning to tell him anything, just remember our deal. " 

" You can't keep running away from this, yeosang. Not just you who are suffering. We all are. " 

" …same goes to you, mingi. " As yeosang bid his goodnight to mingi, mingi couldnt do anything other than standing where he is. But before he could continue step up the stair, she stop himself and turn his face a bit til' mingi can see his face a bit and tell him with cold sharp tone " Oh, and tell him. He is coming tomorrow. " and then he continue his step on the velvety carpet on the stair to his bedroom. 

" fuck… he will not like this.. "

Chapter Text

The road to the coven's house was longer than he expected. Every step seemed to stretch, silence pressing in from the trees. By the time wooyoung saw the gates, rusted black against the fog, he wondered why anyone would build a home this far from the rest of the town. But even with this eerie feeling that he feels, somehow he still didn't feel terrified. 

With such a big manor and spacious yard, wooyoung just stand in front of the gate, wonder how he can got in. "Well isnt this nice, big house but no servant or bell on front" as he muttered when suddenly he feel a shadow behind glooming over him. 

"And who are you standing front here? it's quite dangerous to be alone in this area." A tall figure stepped down from what looked like a luxurious carriage, his shadow stretching over Wooyoung. Inside, another man lingered in the passenger seat, eyes fixed on him with an unreadable calm. With that wooyoung fix his posture " Ah, sorry. The arrangement was made with my father, but since he's busy, I came in his place." As he realized that he hadn't even introduced himself. With a small, polite smile, he extended his hand. " I'm wooyoung. Jung Wooyoung." The other man's expression softened as he mirrored the gesture, his palm cool against wooyoung's. "Yunho," he said evenly. "One of the kim coven's members."

As yunho released his hand, wooyoung felt a prickle at the back of his neck. His eyes flicked toward the other figure still seated inside the carriage. Cold, sharp eyes met his own holding, unyielding, almost dissecting him without a single word spoken.

Wooyoung's breath hitched at the silent scrutiny. Yunho glanced briefly toward the passenger seat, his brow creasing faintly before softening his expression as he turned back. "Don't mind him," yunho said with a polite, almost disarming smile. "Shall we head inside?" 

The manor's doors opened with a squeak as in that door never been used much, and wooyoung felt the temperature drop as soon as he crossed the threshold, but somehow those chill temperature didn't bother him much. The air smelled faintly of old wood, polished silver, and metalic rusty smell. His footsteps echoed against the marble floor, swallowed quickly by the sheer vastness of the grand entrance hall.

Yunho's movements were calm and compose, almost too calm for a place that felt so heavy with silence. Behind them, the second figure finally stepped inside with the same sharp eyed presence from the carriage. He said nothing, only brushed past wooyoung with the faintest brush of fabric against his sleeve, as if to remind him he was being watched. But again, all of this doesn't intimidate him at all. Maybe he grew quite common with this feeling.

Wooyoung was led into the grand dining hall, the long table stretching farther than seemed necessary. He placed the wooden case gently on the polished surface, eyes wandering over the velvet curtains and glimmer of candlelight.

The quiet broke when a figure entered through the side door. His movements were steady, deliberate, almost too graceful for someone approaching what should be a simple transaction. Dressed in dark layers that seemed to drink in the light with a corset that wrap around his body, he regarded wooyoung not with hostility, but with a piercing stillness. 

"And who this might be, yunho?" 

Yunho straightened, his tone respectful. "This is jung wooyoung, here on behalf of his father. He's come to discuss the arrangements with….him." 

The man's eyes flicked back to Wooyoung, studying him in silence before the faintest curve touched his lips. "Seonghwa," he said simply, extending a hand. Wooyoung swallowed and accepted the handshake.

"Wooyoung. It's… nice to meet you. Are you perhaps mr. kim, the one my father arranged this with?"
A cool touch pressed lightly against his back. Wooyoung startled, only to realize Seonghwa was guiding him toward the end of the long table. His palm lingered just enough to remind him of its chill.

"No," Seonghwa replied, settling Wooyoung into a chair with unhurried grace. "Mr. Kim is… occupied. Locked away in his serious business." A pause, faint amusement curling at the edge of his words. "But it's fine. I'll speak in his behalf. I am his right hand."

"Ah… if you say so, mr. seonghwa," Wooyoung muttered as he lowered himself into the chair.
Seonghwa's lips curved into the smallest smile as he sat directly across from him. "No need for the formalities," he said, tone calm but leaving little room for argument. "Just Seonghwa will do." 

"Oh, okay… seonghwa. Uhm, as you can see, I came-"

Wooyoung's words cut off as someone set down a delicate glass of tea beside him, along with a plate of pastries. His gaze flicked to the dessert, confusion briefly knitting his brow. Strawberry shortcake? Of all things they could have. It looked oddly out of place in this cold, dark manor. But the moment passed, because really, who is he to question it? Especially when it happened to be his favorite. Maybe they have another coven member who have the same exquisite taste as him. 

"Ah, thank you for the drink and dessert, Yunho," Seonghwa said smoothly, watching wooyoung's quiet fascination.

"No problem," Yunho replied with a polite nod. "I'll leave you both to it. I'll head back to the study."

"Help yourself, wooyoung," seonghwa said, his voice calm but leaving little room for refusal. "Yunho picked these up from town today. He and Yeosang went to the market to… restock on a few things." Before wooyoung could reach, seonghwa was already sliding a slice of strawberry shortcake onto his plate, even adding a few extra strawberries with deliberate care.

Wooyoung blinked. Something about the gesture felt unexpectedly… warm. Almost familiar. He didn't question it, though a tiny part of him wondered - how did Seonghwa know he always preferred extra strawberries?

His thoughts drifted back to the other figure from earlier. Ah, so the one in the car… Yeosang. Delicate name for someone with eyes that sharp. 

"Oh, um… thank you," wooyoung said quickly, adjusting the case. "As you know, I came here to offer some goods mr. kim requested. He has a… particular taste. Most are antiques tied to vampire history, which I assume your coven is familiar with. But these pieces…" his tone dipped, cautious, "…some are contaminated. Witches, dark magic. So please handle them carefully."

Seonghwa gave a small nod, his expression unreadable. "Ah, yes. He mentioned it. Research, mostly. He wanted a few specific pieces."

Encouraged, Wooyoung placed the wooden case on the table. Eight items, each with its own aura, its own shadowed story. He explained them one by one, his hands moving animatedly while seonghwa's gaze lingered, not so much on the antiques, but on him. His eyes softened, though he hid it well.

By the time Wooyoung closed the case, thunder rattled the manor's windows. Rain lashed hard against the glass. He opened his mouth to speak again when 

THUD.

The back door slammed open.

"Seonghwa! Dear hell, I hate this. It's pouring and I'm drenched -"

Wooyoung's words froze as he turned toward the voice. A man stood there, clothes clinging, boots caked in mud, droplets streaming down pale skin visible through the soaked white fabric.

"San!" Seonghwa's chair scraped sharply as he stood. "How many times must I tell you, don't track dirt into the hall after training!"

San only smirked, running a hand through wet hair. Wooyoung, however, flushed crimson and quickly averted his gaze, heat crawling up his neck. And as soon as he and san exchange gaze, he threw his head to the other side hoping san can't see his red face. 

"Well, who's this?" san asked, still dripping across the floor as seonghwa pinched the bridge of his nose.

"He's wooyoung," seonghwa replied with a sigh, tone laced with irritation at the mess rather than the boy. "Mr. jung's son. He came on his father's behalf. There was an appointment arranged, and as always he can't be here. So, I'm handling it instead."

San's brow lifted slightly, but his expression stayed light as if nothing about the name struck him. He come closer, hand out without hesitation.

 "Ah, then I should welcome you properly. San. Just san is fine."

Wooyoung glanced at the wet palm but rose anyway, shaking it politely. "…jung wooyoung. Nice to meet you."

San's grip was cold, steady. His smile was all friendliness, yet his eyes lingered just a heartbeat too long, like he was reading more than Wooyoung intended to show.

Seonghwa, arms crossed now, didn't miss it. His mouth tightened but he said nothing, letting san's friendliness mask what both of them already knew.

"San," seonghwa said finally, his voice calm but edged with authority, "go clean yourself up. And call one of the servants to take care of this mess before the floor soaks through."

San only grinned wider, offering wooyoung one last playful glance before shrugging. "Yeah, yeah. Don't scare him off, hyung." With that, he padded off down the hall, leaving small wet trails in his wake.
Seonghwa exhaled softly, smoothing his sleeve as if dismissing San's chaos altogether. Then, with that same polite smile from earlier, he turned his attention back to wooyoung.

"Now, where were we?" he said smoothly. His gaze flicked to the stack of documents wooyoung had brought, and then back to the younger man. "Ah, yes. These contracts… why don't we make this simple. I'll take them all."

Wooyoung blinked, startled. "A-all of them? You mean… all the units?"

Seonghwa nodded once, almost casually, as though he were buying bread instead of making a large-scale purchase. "Yes. Consider it settled."

For a moment Wooyoung just stared, his mouth slightly open before he quickly composed himself. His chest swelled with a quiet rush of pride, his first solo deal, and it was already closing so smoothly.
He bowed his head with a small, eager smile. "Thank you, Seonghwa. Truely. This… this means a lot."
Seonghwa's smile curved just faintly sharper, though his tone remained gentle. "Think of it as a first step, wooyoung. I look forward to seeing what else you bring to the table."

Wooyoung's lips parted as if to respond, but he only nodded, unsure why his throat suddenly felt tight. He lowered his gaze to the documents, hands brushing over the wooden case before closing it again. His first sale… his first deal done completely alone. He should've felt nothing but pride.

Yet, that shadow still clung to the edges of his mind. A faint whisper of movement that brushed too close to his shoulder, too deliberate to be mere imagination. It lingered like a breath at the nape of his neck before slipping back into the darkness of the room's corners.

'You're here again,' Wooyoung thought, trying to steady the strange comfort that rose in his chest. 'I knew I could count on you…'

The thunder outside cracked loud enough to rattle the glass, pulling wooyoung from his thoughts.
"Ah, look at the time. Already six," Seonghwa murmured, his gaze sliding to the rain-streaked window. The downpour blurred the world beyond into shifting gray. "And it's pouring hard… wooyoung, why don't you stay for dinner? If you don't mind, of course. It would be unkind to send you back through this storm."
That soft smile again, warm enough to feel genuine, yet carrying something else beneath it, something wooyoung couldn't quite name.

For a second he hesitated, thumb brushing the edge of the wooden case. His father would expect him home, but… the thought of walking the forest path alone in that black rain made his stomach twist.
"…If it's not too much trouble," he finally answered.

Seonghwa's eyes glimmered faintly, as if he'd been waiting for exactly that reply.

"Well, we can move to the other room first, I suppose, while the maids prepare dinner," Seonghwa suggested, rising with that same effortless grace.

Wooyoung followed him through the arched doorway, only to find yunho and yeosang already settled in the big living room. The firelight painted everything gold, shadows stretching high along the carved walls. Yunho gave a small nod in greeting, while yeosang's dark gaze flicked up just long enough to meet his before retreating back into silence.

Sinking into one of the plush sofas, wooyoung let out a quiet breath. For reasons he couldn't name, the cushions seemed to mold perfectly to his shape, easing a tension he hadn't realized he was carrying.
Not long after, san appeared. Hair still damp, clothes fresh, his energy filling the room as he dropped into a chair with casual familiarity. He started talking easily, drawing Wooyoung into light conversation, while yunho occasionally chimed in and yeosang lingered quiet at the edge of the sofa.

It felt strangely warm. Comfortable. Like he'd been here before.

Dejavu came at the back of his mind, though he knew he'd never stepped foot in this house until today.
As fun as their talk was, a butler soon stepped into the room with a bow. "Dinner has been served."
They rose and returned to the dining hall. Wooyoung lingered for a moment at the doorframe, eyes sweeping across the long table. Everyone seemed to have a place already. Their seats familiar, as though etched into routine.

At the far end, the head chair sat empty, looming with quiet significance. To the right of it was another chair, also empty. Wooyoung hesitated before sliding into a spot near seonghwa, across from the vacant space. Yeosang and yunho sat beside seonghwa, and next to yunho was a taller figure wooyoung hadn't seen before.

Across from yeosang sat san again, already cheerful as he patted the chair at his side. Right next to the head seat.

"Come on, sit here," san urged, flashing a grin.

"Ah… are you sure I can sit there?" wooyoung asked, not to anyone in particular.

"Yes," seonghwa answered calmly, though his voice carried something firm beneath the softness. "That chair has been empty for quite some time. Better to join us than sit at the far end."

"…Okay."

As wooyoung moved toward the chair, the tall stranger beside yunho finally spoke, his voice deep and deliberate. "Hmm… is this the one you mentioned, yeosang?"

Mingi's words made yeosang stiffen. His head snapped toward him, eyes narrowing. "Mingi!" His voice was low, sharp, as though he'd been caught slipping.

"Now, now, children." seonghwa's tone cut through, stern enough to silence the room. "We're having dinner. Wooyoung, meet mingi. He's our… youngest."

"Ah, hi, mingi."

Mingi didn't look up from his plate as he scooped food onto it. "It's mingi hyung to you. I'm still older. Show some respect."

Wooyoung blinked, startled. "…Sorry. Mingi hyung."

San snorted from across the table. "Don't mind him. He's just acting like a teenager on a bad day. Probably sulking over another failed lesson."

Mingi shot him a glare, but San only smirked.

As wooyoung sat down beside san, he couldn't help noticing how naturally everyone else had already begun eating. Every chair was filled, except the one beside him, the head seat. Its emptiness pressed on him, deliberate somehow.

"Uhm… is this mr. kim's chair? Is he not coming down for dinner?" he asked, glancing between them.
Mingi's head snapped up, his eyes narrowing into a glare. "Mind your own busin-"

But before he could finish, seonghwa's voice cut cleanly across the table. "He's still occupied," he said smoothly, his smile faint but firm. "It's a habit of his, he gets caught up in his work and prefers not to be disturbed. Dinner will be sent to his room. No need to worry. You should focus on your meal instead."
The way seonghwa said it sounded final, a wall wooyoung wasn't meant to climb. Still, that empty chair beside him felt heavier than before.

As the meal began, wooyoung found himself… surprised. For all the whispers about the kim coven, their dinner looked almost normal. Plates were set, silver gleamed, conversation hummed softly between bites.
 
His plate was warm, fragrant, cooked through. Theirs… not quite. The meat on their dishes was dark, almost raw, glistening in a way that made his stomach twist. And every glass but his was filled with a deep, thick red liquid, catching the candlelight like garnet. He didn't need to ask what it was - the metallic tang in the air was enough. He swallowed hard, forcing himself to look back at his own food.

Before the silence could suffocate him, San leaned over with his easy grin, tugging Wooyoung back into conversation. Grateful, Wooyoung let the chatter distract him, focusing instead on finishing his dinner quickly. If nothing else, he wanted to return to his house with good news for his father.

As the dinner drew to a close, the storm deepened outside, rain tapping sharp against the windows. By the time the plates were cleared, night had swallowed the forest whole.

"It's far too dark," seonghwa said lightly, folding his napkin. "Why don't you stay the night, wooyoung?"
Wooyoung shook his head quickly. "I don't think that's a great idea. My father wouldn't be too happy about it."

"Your father?"

"Yes. I live with him back in town." He smiled as he finished the last bite of his meal.

Seonghwa's gaze lingered for a beat before he nodded. "…Then perhaps it's safer if Yunho drives you back. Night isn't kind to those who linger here."

Wooyoung hesitated, then dipped his head. "If it's not troubling you, I'd appreciate it."
"It isn't." Yunho's voice came from behind as he lifted the wooden case and papers of document by his other hand. "Shall we?"

Wooyoung stood, offering a quick bow toward the table. "Thank you again, Mr. Seonghwa- "

"As I said," seonghwa interrupted gently, "just seonghwa." His smile softened, his hand twitching as though to reach out, before he drew it back, folding it instead against his chest. "Please, come back again anytime soon, we love your presense and you have bring a lot of joy to this manor after so long".

Wooyoung noticed, but chose not to press the boundary. He simply waved, bright and polite. "I'll definitely come again soon. It's been a pleasure…and maybe next time, I'll even get to enjoy the view of the manor properly."

Seonghwa's lips curved faintly. "Then I'll look forward to it."

Yunho led him out, the night air biting cold. By the time wooyoung settled into the vehicle, seonghwa still stood framed in the manor's doorway, one hand raised in farewell until the car's headlights swallowed the fog.

In the silence that followed, seonghwa's smile faded, his voice barely above a whisper.

 "…Ah, what a pleasant day.
 Hongjoong… just what are you planning to do with him?"

Chapter Text

Yunho slowed the carriage as they reached the edge of the village. “I’ll take you all the way home,” he offered, but Wooyoung shook his head with a small smile.

“It’s fine. Just drop me at the gate, I’ll walk.”

Yunho hesitated, as if reluctant to let him go alone, but eventually nodded. The moment Wooyoung stepped out, the air of the manor still clung to him, sharp and cold against his skin. Strangely, it lingered even when he entered his home, where warmth should have been waiting. Somehow, the warmth here felt dull, almost suffocating, compared to the biting chill he had just left behind.

Pushing the door open, he found his father seated at the dining table. Two cups rested between scattered papers, an unusual sight, especially this late. Either a guest had stayed longer than expected, or someone had visited while Wooyoung was away.

“Ah, you’re finally home.” His father stood quickly, gathering the papers before crossing over “I was worried. What took you so long?” He reached for Wooyoung’s bag, then cupped his cheek, his eyes scanning him. “Are you alright? Did they treat you strangely? Did they ask anything of you? Tell me, what were they like?”

The questions left Wooyoung blinking. His father had never been one to fuss. Maybe it was just nerves, since this had been his first time handling a sale alone.

“Dad, I’m fine!” Wooyoung said with a grin, pulling out his pouch. “Look ! I sold all the antiques. Aren’t you proud?”

His father’s expression tightened, pride flickering with something heavier. Worry, dread, or perhaps both.

“You got me so worried, Wooyoung.”

“Dadddd, I’m fine… I even had dinner already.”

His father’s brows furrowed. “Where did you eat?” His eyes searched Wooyoung’s face, as if trying to read something deeper.

“At the manor,” Wooyoung replied casually, shrugging off his damp coat. “They offered me dinner, it was late, raining too hard to walk back. I couldn’t leave until it eased.” For a moment, his heart tugged, noticing the silence that followed. His father hadn’t answered, hadn’t even acknowledged his effort. Not a word of pride.

“I’m going upstairs,” Wooyoung said, forcing a light tone. “The case is here, and the documents. I’ll leave them on the table. Night, Dad.”

As he climbed the stairs, he caught the faintest murmur of “Goodnight” trailing after him. From above, he glanced back once, the only thing visible was his father’s back, bent over the scattered papers. There was something in that silence, in the set of his shoulders, that felt… unsatisfied. Wooyoung tightened his grip on the railing, swallowing the sting. Maybe he just needed to work harder on the next mission.

He changed into his clothes for bed and lay down, the cold wind slipping through his window. Somehow, it felt gentle, almost like the forest. They said the forest was cruel at night, but then why did he feel safe in it? maybe its the fact he just never feel welcomed anywhere… or maybe he is just better off dead.

with all of those thoughts, the cold air wrapped around him in a strange warmth, as if the moonlight shadow itself leaned down to hold him. His eyes grew heavy, and before he realized it, a single tear slid down his cheek as sleep pulled him under.

“goodnight, wooyoung” a voice whispered. Maybe wooyoung just hallucinate or his dream start to welcoming him. 

He must have slept only minutes, he thought, when sunlight struck his face like a hand. He blinked himself upright and felt someone beside him.

“Dad?” Wooyoung croaked. His vision fuzzed, maybe from all that crying before he sleep. 

“My dear… what’s wrong? Why are you crying?” a gentle voice answered.

The room is dark yet so bright due to the sunlight slip thru the dark curtain to him. everything feel unreal. Feels like he is not in his room but somehow he feels at home. But the space around him held a strange, familiar warmth that didn’t belong there. Panic flared, Did someone kidnap me? Why does my skin burn? Why is my stomach churning? My head-

A hand wrap around my body and I hear a shushing sound while they slowly rocking my body. 

‘Is he really being held like a child? Could this even be his dad?’ Just last night, his dad hadn’t even hugged him. Maybe Wooyoung was simply too grown now. Too distant.

The thought cut off when lips brushed his forehead. It was only a kiss, but it melted something tight in his chest. For a breath he felt loved and safe in a way that erased everything else.

He tilted his head to look up, expecting his father’s face. But the figure blurred, edges soft as mist. The room tilted, cold swept through him. He woke with a gasp.

Sunlight poured through his real window. The smell of rain and fresh grass filled the air. He was in his own bed, the one he’d climbed into hours earlier, the room from last night, not the same room as he…dreamed?

So it had been a dream. And yet for a long moment after sitting there, his palms still remembered the weight of that hand, and his forehead still tingled where the kiss had landed.

“Wooyoung?”

He flinched, finally grasping that this was reality. That dream… it had felt too real.
The door creaked open.

“Hyung?” a voice called softly. Through the crack, Wooyoung saw Jongho peeking in.

“Jongho? What are you doing here?” He tried to stand, but dizziness hit and his body swayed, almost knocking him into the drawer.

Before he could fall, a strong arm wrapped around his waist, another shielding his head.
 “Hyung! Are you okay? Are you sick again?” Jongho’s worried voice grounded him.

“Ugh, sorry. I’m fine. Maybe it’s just yesterday’s rain. I’ll be fine in a sec,”
Wooyoung muttered, steadying himself with Jongho’s help.

“You sure? Do I need to call your dad? He’s at the chief’s house right now.”

Wooyoung blinked at the sunlight slipping through the window. 10am Already? Strange his father hadn’t woken him. “Did he ask you to come here?”

“No. As usual, he just let me in. I came to check on you, usually you’re not late for our meetups.” Jongho’s expression was tight with worry. Wooyoung hated that look.

“Yeah, I’m good…” he insisted. His pale face betrayed him, but Jongho let it go and shifted the subject.
 “So… how was your mission yesterday? Sell anything?”

At once, Wooyoung perked up. “YEAH! Sold all of it!” He smirked, pride shining.

“Woahhh, what kind of rich people can afford that?”

Wooyoung hesitated, then shrugged. “Well… they’re a vampire coven. Live long enough, you’re bound to get rich. If not, why bother living that long?” He laughed, and Jongho only smirked back.

“Well, whatever suits your idea.”

“Hey! That’s my line!”

After some playful back-and-forth, they moved downstairs. Wooyoung threw together breakfast. Well, more like lunch, and they ate. When the plates were cleared, Jongho washed the dishes, speaking over his shoulder.

“Hey, have you heard about the ritual coming up?”

Wooyoung, still at the table, blinked. “Uh… no? I mean, it’s close, but I thought there wasn’t a candidate yet. The last one escaped, right? It’s been years. At this point, the god must be moody with how bad our town’s gotten.”

“Yeah,” Jongho said, shuddering. “I heard the last candidate got turned into a vampire. Creepy.”

Wooyoung frowned. “And where did you hear that?”

“Eh… intel, maybe.”

“…Right. Whatever suits your idea.”

“HEY!”

Wooyoung huffed, leaning back in his chair. “Let’s just hope it’s not us. I’m not about to lose my life to this so called god just so we can eat.”

“It’s okay, hyung. I’m strong enough to protect both of us.” Jongho smirked confidently.

Wooyoung shot him a disgusted look. “…You should stop that.” He sighed dramatically. “Where’s my sweet little Jongho from back then?”

“Yah! What’s that supposed to mean?”

And with that, another “normal” day began.

/

Days slipped by without Wooyoung noticing. He still helped his father now and then, but lately, his father had been asking less of him. Left with too much free time, boredom gnawed at him.

One late morning, the thought of the manor surfaced.
 They did say he could come by anytime… well, mostly Seonghwa said it. But same thing, right?

He hesitated, weighing it in his head. Go? Not go? But what else was there to do? His father was constantly tied up with work and the chief’s house. Hovering around him would only be a bother.

Decision made, he scribbled a note and left it on the dining table:

‘Hey Dad, I’m going out. I’ll be back maybe by noon or night. No need to worry about me.’

With that, he packed a few essentials like medicine, small things he might need, and set off toward the manor once again.

/

After a long bike ride from town through winding forest roads, Wooyoung finally reached the manor gate.

He half-expected it to be the same as last time, with no way to announce himself. But to his surprise, a small bell now hung outside the gate.

“Huh… maybe they actually listened to me back then..” he muttered, then shrugged and rang it.

Not long after, a butler appeared, followed closely by Seonghwa. Wooyoung’s face brightened as he waved.
 “Seonghwa! It’s good to see you again!”

Seonghwa’s eyes lit up despite the way he tried to keep his composure. He quickened his pace toward the gate, leaving the butler scrambling to catch up. “Wooyoung. Finally, you came back…”

“Yeah! I’ve been kinda bored lately. My dad hasn’t given me much work, so I thought I’d drop by… if you don’t mind, of course,” Wooyoung added, realizing he hadn’t told Seonghwa in advance.

“Nonsense, it’s fine. Though…” Seonghwa gave him a small smile, “maybe you should have our number next time, so we can prepare the place for you. Come on in.”

As Wooyoung stepped inside, he noticed the garden for the first time. Last time it had been hidden under fog and gloom, but now it stretched before him in color. Flowers of every shade lined the paths, lush plants climbing trellises, and in one corner… a small area looks like a playground.

‘A playground? I didn’t know they had kids here…’

Gathering his courage, he asked, “Hey, Seonghwa, do you guys have little kids around? I saw the playground back there.”

Seonghwa slowed for a beat, then kept walking without looking back. “…Back then, yes. But… something happened. We just kept it there. For memory, you could say.”

“Oh… I see.” Wooyoung sensed the weight in his voice and didn’t push further.

At last, they reached the grand front doors. Wooyoung tilted his head back, taking in the towering structure and its carved details. “This place is incredible. Could you… maybe show me around? The architecture is amazing.”

“Yeah, definitely. Don’t let the outside fool you. This house is massive,” Seonghwa laughed.

As they stepped through the door, the grand foyer welcomed them with striking elegance. The ceiling stretched high, painted in a deep dark blue so rich it almost appeared black. Vaulted arches framed the space, wrapping the foyer in a sense of power and dignity, as if the walls themselves were guardians of the house.

By the end of the foyer, Seonghwa explained that the manor was divided into three sections: east, west, and south.

The east wing was occupied by Mingi and Yunho. They had separate bedrooms, but since they were inseparable, they often ended up sleeping together in one of their rooms. This wing always boasted the most stunning view of the sunrise, the golden light filling its halls with warmth. It was also the highest section of the manor, perfect for stargazing at night. Here lay the library and study room, where the morning light poured over the desks and books, creating the perfect setting for study. By night, the stars and moon shone brightly through the high windows, making it a place where knowledge and wonder met.

The west wing was far more restricted, accessible only to the head covens and their right hand men. Though there were four rooms, only two were currently occupied. Each room had its own uniquely designed door, customized to its owner. Once, this section was the brightest and most radiant, but after one tragic event, most of its light had been locked away behind curtains and silence. Yet beauty still lingered. The west wing had the best view of the sunset, with a balcony large enough to hold at least five people, the sky painted in flames each evening. The hallways of this section were breathtaking. Their end framed by a magnificent stained glass door. When sunlight streamed through it, the entire hallway glowed in countless colors. Now, heavy drapes often covered it, but the brilliance beneath remained. The ceilings were adorned with intricate decorations, never once taken down, and the walls carried old paintings that whispered forgotten stories. Deeper inside lay the lounge room, crowned with a high, majestic dome. The dome was painted in halves: one side a blazing sun with flocks of exotic birds soaring across blue skies and drifting clouds; the other a dark night filled with constellations and planets, with stars that seemed to shimmer even in shadow. Hanging ornaments of birds and stars swayed gently, as if alive. Below, a massive fireplace burned warmly, filling the vast chamber with a sense of comfort despite its grandeur.

The south wing was the widest of all. It contained six bedrooms, though only San and Yeosang lived there. The unused rooms had been repurposed. San turned one into a training chamber, while Yeosang transformed another into a potion room, ever since his turning had sparked his fascination with alchemy. The lighting here was usually the darkest in the manor, cloaked in shadow. Yet hidden at its back was a massive window that opened to an endless ocean view. They called it the beauty hidden in shadow , a secret of the south. And though it was the largest section, it often became the heart of the coven. When everyone gathered there, the vastness of the space shrank into warmth, turning the wide halls into a place of laughter, comfort, and belonging.

The first floor was just as impressive. It held the great hall, the grand foyer, several storage rooms and a cold cellar, the kitchen, the dining chamber, studies, and an expansive library. At the very center of the manor stretched a hidden garden, with a single enormous tree whose canopy was wide enough to block out the sun entirely. The kitchen was located just off the south, connected to the dining hall, offering views of both the sea and the inner garden. The library and great hall belonged to the west, while the buttery and cellar accompanied the grand foyer at the south. And in the east, empty chambers had been converted freely into whatever the members wished, making each space unique.

The manor itself was dressed in black stone. Stern, intimidating at first sight, but strikingly elegant upon closer look. Its Victorian style carried a timeless grace. marble floors polished to a sheen, windows and doors carved with meticulous artistry, and arches that separated each chamber like frames of a masterpiece. Every hallway spoke of grandeur, every corner of care, and together it wove the portrait of a place that was both majestic and hauntingly beautiful.

To Wooyoung, it felt unreal. This wasn’t just a house, it was a dream carved into stone. And standing here, breathing its air, he could only think ‘This was the perfect home. The one he had always wished for.’ 

After such a long tour, something gnawed at the back of Wooyoung’s mind. He hesitated for a moment before blurting out,

“Hey, Seonghwa… why exactly is the west wing restricted? Is it just because it belongs to the head coven?”

Seonghwa’s steps slowed. His voice dropped lower, careful, as though choosing each word.
 “Ah… it wasn’t always restricted. But something happened. We don’t really… discuss it much.”

Wooyoung, stubborn as always, pushed further.
 “Does it have to do with the big painting behind that curtain? And the other paintings in the lounge?”

A flicker passed over Seonghwa’s face, the kind of look that warned him he was treading dangerous ground.
 “…Like I said,” Seonghwa murmured, tone flat, “we don’t talk about it.”

The silence that followed hung heavy between them, pressing against the grand walls of the manor itself. Wooyoung bit back another question, sensing it would go nowhere.

Without another word, Seonghwa gestured and led him away, guiding him down the hall toward the first floor living room.

They had just settled when the butler appeared with dessert and tea, his movements precise, almost ritualistic. After setting the tray down, he bent toward Seonghwa and whispered something too soft for Wooyoung to catch.

“Ah… I see.” Seonghwa rose, brushing an invisible crease from his coat. “Forgive me, Wooyoung. It seems I’m needed upstairs, and it may take some time. Stay here, no doubt the others are aware of your presence. I’ll return as soon as I can.”

The butler held the door for him, closing it with a careful, muted click once Seonghwa had disappeared into the dim corridor.

Left alone, Wooyoung’s eyes drifted back to the coffee table. ‘Another strawberry shortcake…’ he mused, reaching for a slice. The sweetness lingered on his tongue as he glanced around the silent living room, its shadows seeming to stretch longer in Seonghwa’s absence.

Then, suddenly, he felt it. A presence. His gaze snapped toward the window, but the glass reflected only his own startled face. By the time he turned back, Yeosang was already there, seated on the side sofa as if he’d been waiting all along.

“Oh god!” Wooyoung nearly dropped his plate. “Yeosang hyung…? Where did you even come from?”

Wooyoung’s hand froze mid-bite, fork trembling slightly. Yeosang didn’t answer right away. Instead, he tilted his head, studying Wooyoung like he was some puzzle piece that didn’t quite fit.

“You didn’t hear me?” His voice was soft, too soft. Calm in a way that only made it more unsettling.

Wooyoung forced down the lump of cake in his throat. “Hear you? Hyung, I didn’t even see you walk in. Don’t tell me you’ve been sitting there this whole time…”

A faint smirk tugged at Yeosang’s lips. “Maybe I have. Or maybe you just weren’t looking properly.”

The air shifted. It grew heavier, pressing against Wooyoung’s ears like silence made solid. The shadows along the walls seemed to stretch, darkening even though the lamps hadn’t flickered.

“Uh… so, what are you doing here, hyung?” Wooyoung asked, trying to sound casual.

“Nothing much. I just finished a potion on the second floor. Thought I’d take a walk in the garden,” Yeosang replied as he crossed his legs, reaching for a teacup with slow, deliberate grace. He sipped quietly, eyes never leaving Wooyoung. “But then I noticed you and Seonghwa wandering the manor, so I followed instead.”

Wooyoung blinked, setting down his fork. “Wait… you’ve been following us this whole time?”

“Not the whole time,” Yeosang said smoothly, as though it made little difference. “But you could say that.”

Confusion swirled across Wooyoung’s face, questions piling at the tip of his tongue. Yet he held himself back. He had to remind himself, this wasn’t his home. He was a guest here.

So they sat in silence, the only sounds the faint ticking of a clock and the delicate clink of porcelain.

Then, without warning, Yeosang spoke again. “You know… you remind me of someone.” His gaze lowered briefly, almost as if searching for a name buried in memory. “Someone I once adored.”

Wooyoung’s eyes lifted to him. He expected Yeosang to return to sipping his tea, detached and untouchable. Instead, Yeosang looked straight at him, and for a fleeting moment, Wooyoung saw it. The sadness that cracked through the carefully composed mask.

“Out of nowhere?” Wooyoung asked softly, his tone less playful now, guilt pricking at him for acting bratty earlier.

Wooyoung opened his mouth, then closed it again, unsure what to say. But before the silence grew unbearable, Yeosang leaned forward slightly and poured more tea into his cup, his movements unhurried, graceful.

“Don’t mind me,” Yeosang said softly, almost like a sigh. “Just… enjoy your cake. It’s rare we get someone who isn’t tired of strawberry shortcake here.”

Wooyoung gave a small laugh, the tension easing for just a moment. “Well, lucky for you, I’ll never get tired of it.”

But as he raised his fork again, he noticed something strange. The corners of the room seemed darker than before, shadows stretching unnaturally long, curling like they had a life of their own. He blinked hard, but the shapes only grew sharper, twisting across the walls, almost reaching for him.

“Hyung…” Wooyoung whispered. “The room-”

Yeosang didn’t even look. He lifted his cup again, calm as ever. “Shadows like to follow those who catch their interest. Nothing you need to fear.”

Before Wooyoung could question him further, the door burst open.

“Hyung! There you are!” San’s voice broke the heavy air like sunlight through storm clouds. He stepped in with that familiar grin, though his eyes flicked briefly at Yeosang, sharp, almost warning.

Yeosang stood smoothly, setting down his cup without another word. “Seems I’ve overstayed.” His eyes lingered on Wooyoung for a beat longer, too lon. Before he turned and slipped away, the shadows seeming to retreat with him.

Left behind, Wooyoung felt the silence thrum in his ears, his fork forgotten.

“…damn, I was hoping to get to know him better.”

The words slipped out before Wooyoung could stop them. He stared at the empty spot Yeosang had just left behind, the faintest trace of cold still lingering where the shadows had clung.

For a moment, he tried to shake it off, but the thought gnawed at him. The shadows should’ve terrified him. Anyone else would have run from the way they slithered and breathed in the corners of the room. But instead… they felt familiar. Like something that had always been with him, just out of sight.

A strange guilt twisted in his chest. Yeosang’s sadness, that fleeting look in his eyes, wouldn’t leave his mind.

“Know who better?”

Wooyoung nearly jumped out of his seat. He turned toward the doorway and found San leaning casually against the frame, arms folded, a faint smile tugging at his lips.

“San! when did you even get here?” Wooyoung pressed a hand to his chest, trying to calm his racing heart.

San chuckled softly as he stepped into the room, his presence oddly warm, almost comforting. “Just now. You were spacing out so hard, I thought maybe you didn’t even breathe for a second.”

Wooyoung huffed, embarrassed. “I was not.”

“Sure,” San said, dropping onto the armrest of the sofa like he’d always belonged there. His smile widened, friendly but sharp at the edges. “So… what were you thinking about?”

Something in his tone made Wooyoung hesitate. It wasn’t demanding, just… inviting. Like it was the most natural thing in the world to answer him.

Wooyoung fiddled with his fork, avoiding San’s eyes. “Nothing important. Just… the cake.”

San raised a brow. “The cake?”

“Yeah,” Wooyoung muttered, stuffing the last bite into his mouth as if to prove his point. “Strawberry shortcake. Again. You’d think this family doesn’t know any other dessert exists.”

San laughed, the sound bright and easy, filling the room in a way that pushed back the heaviness Yeosang left behind. “Guess that means it’s their favorite. Or maybe they’re trying to make it yours.”

Wooyoung rolled his eyes, but his lips twitched despite himself. “What, like a test? ‘If he can handle three slices of strawberry shortcake in one afternoon, he’s worthy’?”

“Exactly,” San said, grinning. “And you passed. Congratulations.” He clapped Wooyoung lightly on the shoulder, the casual touch surprisingly grounding.

Wooyoung found himself relaxing, the tension in his chest easing without him noticing. “You’re ridiculous.”

“Maybe,” San said with a shrug, leaning back on the armrest. “But you smiled. That’s a win for me.”

Wooyoung huffed, grabbing his teacup dramatically just to avoid looking at him. “Unbelievable. First Yeosang creeping me out, now you trying to psychoanalyze me. What’s next, someone gonna jump out of the fireplace?”

San laughed so hard he almost tipped backward off the armrest. “See? This is why I said you’re entertaining. Everyone else here broods or sulks. You actually fight back.”

“Fight back? I’m just trying to survive in this madhouse.” Wooyoung waved his fork vaguely at the ceiling. “Seriously, what’s with this place? Secret wings, shadows creeping around, endless strawberry shortcakes… Is this a coven or a horror play?”

San shrugged, still smiling. “Maybe both.”

Wooyoung rolled his eyes, but the corners of his mouth twitched again despite himself.

For the next while, they bickered like that. Wooyoung throwing sarcastic jabs, San volleying them back with easy warmth. Somewhere in the middle of all the banter, Wooyoung realized the silence in the room didn’t feel suffocating anymore. If anything, it felt… lighter.

San stretched and hopped off the armrest in one smooth motion. “Alright, enough sulking in here. Come on.”

Wooyoung frowned. “Come on where? I didn’t sign up for a field trip.”

“Too late. You’re already signed up,” San said, grabbing Wooyoung’s wrist before he could protest.

“Hey! You can’t just kidnap me inside your own house,” Wooyoung grumbled, though he didn’t actually pull away.

“Relax. I’m showing you the fun parts. Seonghwa probably gave you the boring tour, right? Walls, halls, history lesson?” as San pulling Wooyoung with him.

Wooyoung squinted. “…Kind of.”

“Exactly. That’s why you need me.” San smirked, leading him through a side corridor that looked a little less polished than the grand foyer. “This place has secrets, and you’ll never find them if you only follow the rules.”

“Why am I not surprised you’re the resident rule breaker?” Wooyoung muttered, though curiosity prickled at him.

The hallway they entered was narrower, lined with tall windows that overlooked the garden from a different angle. The air here felt cooler, quieter. Like it wasn’t meant for guests.

“See that?” San pointed to a heavy oak door at the end. “Storage room. But behind it…” he leaned closer, whispering dramatically, “…there’s a staircase that leads to the attic. Not even the butler goes up there.”

Wooyoung raised a brow. “And you just waltz around in the attic like it’s your bedroom?”

“Maybe. Depends if I feel like hiding from lectures.” San grinned, clearly proud of himself.

Before Wooyoung could respond with another jab, the floorboards creaked ahead. A tall figure stepped out from the shadows of the corridor. Calm, steady, like he’d been waiting there.

“San,” Yunho’s voice was deep, even, but his eyes flicked toward Wooyoung. “You’re dragging our guest into trouble already?”

San rolled his eyes. “Trouble? Please. I was just showing him around.”

Yunho gave Wooyoung a small, polite smile, though there was something watchful in his gaze. “You’ll have to excuse him. He forgets not everyone’s used to… wandering this house freely.”

Wooyoung raised both hands sarcastically. “Oh don’t worry, I’m already used to being kidnapped against my will.”

That earned the smallest chuckle out of Yunho. “I see.”

San clapped Wooyoung on the shoulder. “See? He’s fine. Besides, I thought it’d be better if he met you this way than over tea and cake.”

“Mm. Perhaps.” Yunho’s expression softened just slightly as he looked at Wooyoung again. “Still, if you’re going to explore… I should come along. Some doors aren’t meant to be opened.”

Wooyoung blinked. The way Yunho said it, calm but carrying weight, sent a small chill down his spine.

San only smirked. “See? Perfect timing. Now we’ve got a guide.”

Wooyoung blinked and turned, spotting Yunho at the doorway. He was tall, posture relaxed, but his presence carried a quiet weight that made Wooyoung straighten up a little.

“Guide for what?” Yunho asked, stepping in. His voice wasn’t sharp, but it carried enough calm authority to make the room feel different.

Wooyoung fumbled for an answer, finally jabbing a finger at San. “Ask him. He’s the one dragging me around like I signed up for this.”

San grinned like he’d been caught. “Hey, don’t look at me like that. I just thought you’d get bored sitting here.”

Yunho’s gaze shifted back to Wooyoung, and his smile was softer now. “You don’t have to go anywhere you don’t want to.”

Wooyoung tilted his head, skeptical. “You all keep saying that, but somehow I end up following anyway.”

San laughed, slapping Wooyoung lightly on the shoulder. “That’s because you secretly like it.”

“I do not,” Wooyoung shot back immediately, eyes narrowing. But there was no bite in his tone, just that sarcastic edge he always leaned on when things got too close for comfort.

Yunho chuckled under his breath, the sound low and easy. “Sometimes, being dragged along is just another way of being included.”

That made Wooyoung pause. He looked away, focusing on the rim of his teacup before muttering, “You guys have a weird way of showing hospitality.”

San leaned forward on the armrest, grinning like a cat. “Better than being boring, right?”

Wooyoung rolled his eyes but couldn’t stop the small twitch of a smile tugging at his lips. “Debatable.”

Yunho rose from where he stood and gestured toward the hall. “Come on. Why don’t we walk a bit? San knows the shortcuts, and I can keep him from getting you into trouble.”

“Hey!” San pouted, though it didn’t last long before his grin returned. “Fine, but I’m still leading.”

As the three of them stepped out of the room, Wooyoung found himself walking between them . San chattering animatedly about little things he’d noticed in the house, Yunho occasionally cutting in to add clarity or calm San’s exaggerations.

For the first time since arriving, Wooyoung didn’t feel quite so much like an outsider. He didn’t admit it out loud, of course. When San teased him about smiling, he immediately snapped back, “I wasn’t.”

But Yunho caught the fleeting curve of his lips anyway. He didn’t say anything, just let San’s chatter fill the silence, making it easier for Wooyoung to pretend nothing had slipped through.

/

The three of them walked down the corridor, their steps echoing against the high ceiling. San was talking the most, pointing at random portraits on the wall like a tour guide who didn’t know half the facts.

“This one,” he said, gesturing at a faded painting of a stern-looking man in a cloak, “probably invented bread. Or maybe just really liked eating it.”

Wooyoung snorted. “Wow, what a contribution to society. Should we build him a statue too?”

San grinned, pleased he’d gotten a reaction. “See, Yunho? He’s getting into it.”

Yunho shook his head, though the corner of his mouth twitched. “If Seonghwa hyung hears you two making fun of the ancestors, he’ll lecture you until sunrise.”

Wooyoung’s lips curved into a smirk. “He’s not my father, is he? He can’t lecture me from dawn till dusk.”

For a moment, Yunho and San fell silent. The air grew heavier. Wooyoung felt it — an invisible line, a shadow between words. Had he said too much? Something about their quiet made his chest tighten.

“…Ah. Perhaps I’ve crossed a line,” he murmured, the smirk fading.

Yunho’s eyes flicked to him, softening. “No, no… it’s nothing offensive.”

San’s voice was quieter, almost a whisper. “It’s just… ironic, somehow. The things you say…”

“Ironic?” Wooyoung tilted his head, confusion knitting his brow. The warm, lighthearted air of moments ago had shifted; laughter had turned brittle.

Then, from the shadows behind them, a voice sliced through the tension. “It’s just ironic how you said that while we also consider seonghwa as our father.”

Wooyoung stiffened. Before he could turn, San’s startled squeak broke the silence. “Mingi! What are you doing here?”

Mingi’s gaze swept over him, slow and deliberate, measuring. A faint scoff escaped his lips. “What are you doing here? I thought Seonghwa hyung told himto remain in the living room.”

Yunho stepped forward, defensive, yet cautious. “It’s fine, Mangi… we were just — ”

“Stop calling me that nickname,” Mingi interrupted, sharp as a blade. His eyes were hard, unreadable. “You know how I despise it.” He turned, his movements fluid, shadowed, and said simply, “Return to the living room. Seonghwa is nearly finished; he will come soon.”

And with that, he melted into the dim corridor, leaving only silence. Wooyoung, Yunho, and San exchanged glances, the unspoken chill lingering between them. They obeyed, retreating quietly to the living room, their footsteps echoing softly in the hollow space.

/ 

No longer after, the door creaked open and Seonghwa stepped back into the living room. He didn’t expect to see San lounging comfortably on the armrest and Yunho seated close by, both chatting with Wooyoung like they’d been there the whole afternoon.

Seonghwa’s brows lifted. “Okay… so what happened here?”

Yunho glanced at Wooyoung, then back at Seonghwa, and his face broke into an almost too innocent smile. “Nothing!” He rose from his seat with an easy stretch, brushing invisible dust off his sleeves.

“Since you’re back,” he said smoothly, “I should get going. Yeosang asked me to help with his potions.” He turned to Wooyoung, his expression softening into something warmer. “See you around, Wooyoung.”

Wooyoung blinked at the gentle smile, caught off guard for a second. Before he could reply, Yunho was already slipping out the door with the same quiet grace he’d entered.

That left Seonghwa standing there, gaze flicking between San, still looking smug. And Wooyoung, who suddenly found the crumbs on his plate very interesting.

“Well, did you guys have your fun?” Seonghwa asked, crossing his arms lightly, his tone casual but his eyes sharp as always.

Wooyoung was about to answer, lips parting, when San beat him to it.
 “We do! Well, I think I do,” San declared proudly. “I showed Wooyoung around one more time, because you know…” He gestured vaguely at the ceiling beams. “We need more people who appreciate our architectural house.”

The pride on his face was so loud it practically filled the room, leaving Wooyoung with no space but to lean back in the couch and fold into silence. His gaze flickered once to the floor, almost like retreating.

That’s when Seonghwa noticed. His eyes narrowed just slightly, and in a subtle motion, he tilted his chin toward the door. A quiet signal only San would catch.

San noticed in a heartbeat. His smile faltered, and a pout tugged at his mouth, but he didn’t argue. With a dramatic sigh, he stood, dragging his feet just a little.

 “Fine, fine. I know when I’m not wanted.” He shot Wooyoung a cheeky grin anyway, like he couldn’t help himself, then disappeared out of the room.

The air felt quieter without him.

Seonghwa turned his full attention back to Wooyoung, his voice softening.
 “He can be… a lot.”

“Uhm, I don’t mind,” Wooyoung said after a beat, voice low but honest. “He makes the… air around here easier, I guess.”

Seonghwa tilted his head, studying him. “Really? Well, it’s been a while since he got his cheeky personality back.”

Wooyoung’s brows lifted slightly. “Oh… is that bad in here?”

“Oh no, darling,” Seonghwa chuckled softly, shaking his head. His smile carried that rare, softened warmth he didn’t show to many. “I guess us vampires even sometimes need the fun and light air around. San sure is something…”

He lowered himself into the chair across from Wooyoung, posture more relaxed than before. For a moment, silence lingered. Comfortable but edged with curiosity.

Wooyoung play with his sleeve, eyes flicking down. “I… think I like it. It doesn’t feel so… heavy.”

The way he said it made Seonghwa pause. His gaze sharpened, not in judgment but in quiet observation, the way he often watched when something unspoken was hanging in the air.

“Not many say that about this house,” Seonghwa said gently, leaning back in his seat. “You must have a different way of looking at things.”

The moon was rising, its pale light spilling through the tall windows and catching in Seonghwa’s silver hair. Until now, Wooyoung hadn’t noticed just how beautiful he looked. Shoulder length hair gleaming like spun metal, skin pale as porcelain, lips stained a dark red. His eyes, deep and crimson, seemed to pull at something buried inside Wooyoung. 

The way his body stood so tall, so elegant. The wide set of his shoulders, the slim grace of his frame, the way his outfit wrapped around him perfectly. It all made Wooyoung’s breath catch. 

For a moment, Wooyoung’s thoughts slipped ‘Seonghwa is so… alluring.’

He snapped out of it when Seonghwa’s smile curved, soft but knowing.

“Let me send you off, then…” Seonghwa offered his hand, elegant and expectant. Wooyoung hesitated, but something inside him caved, guiding his fingers into Seonghwa’s cold grasp.

The chill should have been unsettling, but it wasn’t. It felt familiar, almost like greeting an old friend he’d forgotten. The sharp lines of bone and vein beneath Seonghwa’s skin only made the touch more real.

As they walked through the vast grand hall, footsteps echoing beneath the high ceiling, Wooyoung felt a prickling sensation — like eyes watching him from above. He glanced quickly to the second-floor balcony, but found nothing there. Just shadows.

“…What’s wrong, Wooyoung?” Seonghwa’s voice was calm, almost curious.

“Oh, nothing…” Wooyoung shook his head quickly. “It’s okay, you can drop me off here. I’ll be going now.”

“You’re sure, darling?” Seonghwa tilted his head slightly, gaze never leaving him. “I can send a butler to keep you safe. The forest grows treacherous at night.”

Wooyoung forced a small smile. “Ah, no, it’s okay. I’ve been through worse. I’ll just sprint off with my bike.”

For a moment, it felt as though Seonghwa didn’t want to let go of his hand. But at last, his cold fingers slipped away.

“I hope you visit again soon,” Seonghwa said softly, standing tall against the moonlight. “We will be waiting for you… always.”

Wooyoung adjusted the strap of his little bag, nodding lightly. “Yes. I enjoyed my time here… I’ll make sure to visit soon.”

He walked slowly to the gate, his bike waiting there. The iron bars creaked open, and as he swung a leg over the frame, he glanced back one last time.

Seonghwa still stood at the doorway, silver hair gleaming, gaze steady.

Wooyoung lifted his hand and waved. The vampire didn’t move. Yet somehow, Wooyoung felt the farewell just the same.

The old iron gates creaked as they parted, and Wooyoung guided his bike out. The gravel crunched under the tires, breaking the silence of the forest that was now settling into night. He glanced back once more. Seonghwa was still standing there, tall and composed, silver hair gleaming like spun moonlight. He didn’t move, didn’t wave, but his presence lingered like a promise.

Wooyoung tightened his grip on the handlebars. Something about that look, the way Seonghwa’s words had wrapped around him ‘we will be waiting for you… always’ it left a chill that wasn’t entirely unpleasant.

“…weird” Wooyoung muttered to himself, shaking his head as if to clear the thought. “They’re all weird.”

He pedaled down the path, the forest swallowing him in shadows and cicadas. But even as the manor shrank behind him, he couldn’t shake the sensation that someone’s eyes still followed him. Calm, unblinking, patient.

And for the briefest moment, a whisper of memory flickered in his mind. A voice, gentle and faint, calling his name the way Seonghwa just had.

Wooyoung…

He almost stumbled with his bike, heart thudding. But just as quickly as it came, the memory slipped away, leaving him with nothing but the steady rhythm of his wheels and the distant glow of the town lights.

/

Back inside the manor, Seonghwa still stood by the door, leaning lightly against the frame with his arms folded.

“Come out, Hongjoong. I know you’re there.”

At his words, the air shifted. Colder, sharper. The shadows in the hall seemed to breathe, stretching wider as if welcoming their master.

From the darkness, footsteps echoed. “So… is it him?” Hongjoong’s voice was low, carrying a weight that made the silence heavier.

Seonghwa didn’t turn his head, eyes still fixed beyond the doorway. “I think we’ve found our little treasure…”

Hongjoong stepped closer, his presence coiling like smoke. Slowly, he joined Seonghwa by the threshold, the two of them framed by the pale glow of the rising moon.

His hair, a deep crimson that nearly melted into black, caught the silver light and gleamed faintly. The shade of blood under moonlight. His silver-white eyes cut toward the gate where Wooyoung had disappeared moments ago.

A faint smile appear. “Finally…”