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𝔥𝔴𝔞𝔯𝔞𝔫𝔤 - 𝔩𝔧𝔥 || 𝔭𝔞𝔯𝔱 𝔦𝔦𝔦

pairing: lee jihoon x female!reader genre: historical au, fluff, angst, smut (later routes), supernatural members: choi seungcheol, wen junhui, kwon soonyoung, jeon wonwoo, lee seokmin, kim mingyu, boo seungkwan, lee chan warnings: crass humor and language, blood, violence, mentions of suicide, alcohol, minor character death, 660's sexism, crossdressing, medical procedures, political upset, historical innacuarcies for the sake of plot progression word count: 6.6k

taglist: @hipsdofangirl, @reiofsuns2001

𝔭𝔞𝔯𝔱 𝔦𝔦 || 𝔭𝔞𝔯𝔱 𝔦𝔳

𝔄𝔭𝔯𝔦𝔩 5𝔱𝔥, 663 – 𝔖𝔢𝔬𝔯𝔞𝔟𝔢𝔬𝔩, 𝔎𝔦𝔫𝔤𝔡𝔬𝔪 𝔬𝔣 𝔖𝔦𝔩𝔩𝔞 In the late months of 662, King Munmu had purged several members of his council for being either directly connected to or sympathetic towards the efforts of Baekje revivalists. Now not only the revivalists themselves, but anyone who the Crown deems sympathetic towards the cause, is branded a traitor and an enemy of the Kingdom. 

The loyalists laid low for a time, yet as the days, weeks and months progressed, more and more outrage began to grow in the hearts of those who feel as if Silla has done them wrong. Rumors of an insurgency began to spread throughout the peninsula, with the Baekje revivalists calling for the return of Buyeo Pung, the son of the last Baekje king. Not knowing how baseless these rumors were, the Crown asked Kwak Youngmin to head an expedition to the former Baekje capital of Sabi to investigate the claims. 

It comes to pass that the expedition proves to be a fruitless venture, Youngmin writes as much in a letter received at Bulguksa this morning. He writes that he is to return immediately, the cost and expenditure of the venture far too much for the little information recovered.

Riding on the coattails of nothing, you set out with Choi Hansol this morning to accompany him on his rounds. An uneasy feeling fueling you with what may come in the weeks and months to pass. 

“I’m glad winter’s finally over,” you note as you walk with him, thankfully that you no longer have to wear a thick coat when you go out on rounds. 

“As am I,” he replies, his answer short and simple. His gaze flickers to a nearby shop before he looks to the men behind him, “We can start here and begin our rounds.” Hansol then turns to you, “You can wait outside if you’d like, I’m sure there’s nothing in here that would interest you.”

“Alright,” you nod before he and the handful of men make their way inside of the store, leaving you alone outside. His voice muffled from the interior, but you can hear him questioning the owner of the shop over a few accusations that had arisen recently. A few more minutes pass as you idly stand outside before you notice a commotion a bit further down the street. 

A bawdy group of soldiers make their way through the crowd, pushing, shoving and spewing less than pleasant profanities as they laugh amongst one another. For members of the kingdom’s army, they never seem to have respect towards the people they protect. You’d come across some before, never able to do much about their behavior. And now the Hwarang aren’t here, still holed up in the shop behind you with their investigation.

One soldier knocks a child down as they pass, you’re not sure if it’s intentional but your instincts kick in and you race over to help the kid to their feet. You’re about to shout something at them, the anger towards their attitudes bubbling within you rapidly, but before you can, someone else calls them out.

“Stop right there!” It comes from a woman, an angered expression on her face as she marches over to them.

“Are you trying to tell us what to do?” A soldier laughs at her, “We’re here to keep you safe, miss.”

“Is pushing around people keeping them safe?” She bites, venom in her words, “It’s a little pathetic to act all big and strong to people who can’t even fight back.”

The soldier’s temper lit, he makes a grab for her and misses entirely. It looks as if he’s trying to move for her once more before you spring to your feet and jump between them.

“WAIT!” You shout out, trying to make your voice sound deeper than it is. It’s then you realize what you’ve done, your arm outstretched to keep the soldier from coming any closer to the woman.

“This your girlfriend or something,” the soldier snickers at you, “Who are you?”

“I don’t know her,” you shake your head, “but I can’t just stand by while you try to hurt her.”

“Why don’t you keep your nose out of my goddamn business you bastard,” The soldier says through grit teeth, flecks of spittle flying out of his mouth with each word.

“If you’re a true soldier of the kingdom, then why are you abusing your power over children and women?” You argue back, unsure of where you’re getting the strength to sound so authoritative when your knees feel wobbly, “A soldier is meant to protect the people, not take advantage of them!”

“The fuck did you just say?” You’re sure if there wasn’t an audience watching this happen, the soldier would’ve ripped into you with the blade at his hip.

From somewhere in the crowd, a man shouts out, condemning the action of the soldier. A few more voices rise out in agreement, your speech must’ve encouraged the people to call out the soldier’s behavior. 

“You son of a bitch,” the familiar sound of a blade being unsheathed rings in your ears as you watch the soldier take out his sword.

 Eyes widening, you at first think to move to dodge the attack, but that would leave the woman you’re trying to protect vulnerable. So, you move to reach for your own blade before the soldier lets out a groan and falls face first onto the ground in front of you. Looking up, you see Hansol standing there, his hands holding his still sheathed blade.

“I used the hilt,” he notes, looking down to the soldier before looking back up to you, “He should be out for quite a while.” Hansol then looks to the Hwarang accompanying him before giving them an order, “Take him and his men back to Bulguksa, they may have information on the loyalists.”

The Hwarang quickly get to work tying up and escorting the men away, leaving just you, the woman and Hansol alone on the street. Hansol now looks at you, trying to figure out what had happened.

“That was reckless,” he sighs out, “I was just inside, you could’ve asked me to help. What would you have done if they injured you?”

“I couldn’t stop myself,” you shake your head, “What if she were to get injured?”

“He’s right though,” the woman speaks up from behind you, stepping forward so she’s in line with you, “I feel like I was handling the situation well enough.”

“I’m sorry I made you worry,” you look a bit shocked, fully expecting the scolding from Hansol, but not from the woman. After giving her a short bow, her eyes widen as if she’s remembering something. 

“You did save me though, didn’t you?” She now bows towards you, “Thank you! I forgot myself for a second.”

“I really didn’t do anything,” you chuckle nervously, “It was Captain Choi here and his men that did the work.”

“Even still,” she insists, “it’s way more respectable than just watching it all go down. Young ladies have to watch out for one another, you know?”

Hansol’s gaze travels from her to you, an expression crossing his features that you can’t quite name. “…You can’t expect to fool everyone you meet.” He says after a moment, letting you know that your jig is up.

“Were you trying to pretend to be a boy?” She sounds incredulous, the soft pinks of her shirts shimmering brightly in the sunlight, “Maybe I shouldn’t have mentioned it…” 

You’re not sure how to respond to her, in it of itself your whole situation is precarious at best. Seemingly sensing your confusion, she moves on swiftly, “I haven’t even asked your name! It seems like I’ve forgotten my manners. I think we could become very good friends, but it’s a bit difficult to befriend the nameless, can I as your name?”

“Oh well,” you look to Hansol, “this is—”

“I know him, of course. Captain Choi, right?” She says and looks at the man, “The Hwarang are famous enough in the city. But I’m asking who you are.”

You give her your name and blow slightly, “It’s nice to meet you.”

Her eyes grow wide, almost as if your name shocked her. She stares at you for a moment, “Heo? Your family name is Heo? Were you born near the coast?”

A slow nod, “I was. I lived in Toehwa-hyeon, but I’ve been in Seorabeol for a while.” 

She’s quiet for a moment, looking intently at you before she breaks into a smile. “I’m sorry,” a hand to wave off her prior concern, “it’s the same last name as an acquaintance of mine. It’s a lovely name.”

“You think so?”

“I do,” another smile before she introduces herself, “It’s a pleasure to meet you. You can call me Sooyoung, by the way.”

“It’s nice to meet you, Ms. Sooyoung,” judging by her attire, she’s probably the daughter of a high-ranking noble.

“Don’t be so formal!” She insists, “You look like you’re around my age, there’s no reason for us to not speak as equals.”

“So, just Sooyoung?” You question hesitantly.

“Just Sooyoung,” she smiles, “We have to meet again sometime, I feel like you’d be great company to keep.” Her hands reach out to hold yours for a moment, giving them a gentle squeeze before she turns and leaves. 

Your encounter was over before you had the chance to fully comprehend what had happened, so you stand partially stunned as you watch her walk off. 

Hansol watches her disappear into the crowds as well before he turns to you, “She seemed to be interested in your last name.”

“She said it was the same as someone she knows…” You hum and look at him, “It’s not an uncommon last name.”

It seems like he’s concerned with her reaction, deep in thought as he nods his head. “We’re running late on our patrol schedule… We should get going.”

And so the two of you continue on the patrol, basking in the pre-summer warmth that descends on the kingdom. 

𝔄𝔭𝔯𝔦𝔩 25𝔱𝔥, 663 – 𝔅𝔲𝔩𝔤𝔲𝔨𝔰𝔞 𝔗𝔢𝔪𝔭𝔩𝔢, 𝔎𝔦𝔫𝔤𝔡𝔬𝔪 𝔬𝔣 𝔖𝔦𝔩𝔩𝔞 The heat intensifies as the month continues, dredging the compound in humidity only seen in the later summer months as the days go by. You’re sitting in the main hall with a small fan to cool yourself down with when you hear the sound of approaching footsteps. 

“Excuse me, Heo?” You turn and see Lee Junghwan standing in the doorway with a tray of tea in his hands, “Is this batch good enough?”

“Hm,” you stand and walk to him, gingerly placing your fingers to the pot before recoiling away with a small wince from the heat, “It might be best to make tea lukewarm on days like this.”

Shin Junghwan had joined the Hwarang just after Youngmin had returned from his expedition to Sabi, while there he invited the new member to join the organization. He’s now working as Youngmin’s page, and seemingly struggling with the transition from military life to that at the headquarters. The new member does seem fond of the Hwarang, very focused on honing his skills when he’s not running errands for the leader. 

“Do you think we can water it down?” A voice questions as they round the corner and saddle up to Junghwan, a tray of tea in his hands as well.

“Ah, Dohoon, if you do that then you’ll lose the tea’s flavor,” you note, somewhat scarred by that suggestion. 

“Really?” His eyes widen as he turns to his friend, “What do you think we’re supposed to do, Junghwan?”

“Maybe if we put the teapot in well water?” Junghwan suggests, humming out the question.

“That might work!” Dohoon nods enthusiastically, “Let’s do it!”

Kim Dohoon joined the Hwarang around the same time that Junghwan had, and because of their similar rank and age, they grew quite close to one another. Not to mention, Dohoon also became Youngmin’s page-in-training. Because of that, it was up to you to make sure the two became acquainted with the Hwarang and all of their pagely duties, a task more difficult than you previously imagined. 

“The tea doesn’t need to be exactly room temperature,” you say quickly, “Just a bit cooler to balance it against the warm weather. So, instead of boiling water, just make it warmer and then brew it. Then it won’t affect the tea’s flavor.”

“Ohhh,” Dohoon muses, “You really do know a lot about this.”

“It’s very helpful,” Junghwan smiles at you appreciatively.

“As for the tea,” you look to the pots, “I’ll serve it to them so you two can—” 

“What do you need?” Dohoon asks, saddling over to you, the cups and pot on his tray clinking together as he does so. “We’re up for it!”

“You’re going to do some sword training with me!” Junhui, who’d been sitting at the other end of the table, fiddling around with some trinket, exclaims as he rises to his feet. The two pages go quiet, knowing full well that Junhui’s training regime would probably leave them battered and bruised come tomorrow morning. “What?” The captain asks at their silent, “You don’t want to train?”

“Of course not!” Junghwan shakes his head, “I’d love to train.”

“Um…” Dohoon sighs out, “I still have a few errands to do…”

“Don’t get shy on me, new kid,” Junhui laughs at him.

“It’ll only help us become better warriors,” Junghwan mentions to Dohoon hurriedly.

“It’s not training, it's hazing,” Dohoon frowns and mutters quietly.

Junhui laughs again and puts his arms around the two, looking over at you with a wink, “I’ll take them off your hands for a bit.”

Junghwan smiles weakly as he sets down his tray, Dohoon looking as if he’s ready to cry as he sets down his own before Junhui throws his arms around the two and drags them off towards the training yard. 

𝔐𝔞𝔶 13𝔱𝔥, 663 – 𝔅𝔲𝔩𝔤𝔲𝔨𝔰𝔞 𝔗𝔢𝔪𝔭𝔩𝔢, 𝔎𝔦𝔫𝔤𝔡𝔬𝔪 𝔬𝔣 𝔖𝔦𝔩𝔩𝔞 “Is it really true that Buyeo Pung returned from Yamato?” Your voice is quiet as you set down a cup of tea by the Hwarang’s leader. Youngmin had been sitting out in one of the temple’s gardens after briefing the captains on what news had just emerged from the former kingdom of Baekje when you found him. On his expedition a few months prior, the Crown had concluded that the rumors of the former prince’s return weren’t anything to be afraid of, yet now it seems as if the attitude has shifted and a causation for worry has arisen.

“It seems that way,” Youngmin nods and reaches for the cup, bringing it to his lips and taking a long drink from it. “His forces attacked Yongmyo Gate out west and a monk from the temple they’ve been holed up in has instated him as Baekje’s new king.” The leader looks tired as he sets the cup back down.

“Does that mean there’s going to be a war?” You ask quietly, wondering what this means for the rest of the kingdom. It doesn’t seem as if the news of Pung’s return is widespread yet, as the city still seems to be at peace.

“War? Hmm,” Youngmin hums, “I’m not sure. They’ve allied with Yamato, gotten Gwisil Boksin back as their general and are trying to claim territory quickly so we can’t stop them.” That seems scary enough just listening to their conquest, but Youngmin adds a bit more to ease you, “King Munmu has asked Emperor Gaozong for aid, supposedly they’re sending in Lui Jengui.”

You don’t know who that is, but with the assuredness in Youngmin’s tone, it makes you feel a bit better. “Will the Hwarang have to fight?”

“I’m not sure,” he shakes his head, “We could be delegated to keeping watch over Seorabeol or be put into the ranks depending on what’s needed.” His arms cross over his chest as he remains deep in thought. 

You’re not sure what to say, on one hand, fighting for the kingdom is what the Hwarang are meant to do, but in doing so, there would be inevitable loss among his men. A heaving sigh escapes you before Youngmin speaks up once more.

“Doctor Namekawa is examining Seungkwan right now.” You look at him, wondering why he’d said that. The captain had seemingly been in a sickly state for a while now, had it gotten worse? “He hasn’t said anything but I hope it’s nothing serious,” a frown on the leader’s lips as he says that, “if something happened to him, I’m not sure I could face her…” 

“Her?” You question, “He’s not married, is he?”

Youngmin chuckles lightly and shakes his head, “His eldest sister. He left her in Gochang when he joined us.”

“I didn’t know he had a sister,” you say, somewhat surprised at the revelation.

“He has two,” Youngmin nods, “Their parents passed in a small town before they came to Seorabeol.”

“It sounds like Seungkwan has been through a lot…”

“He’s too honest to admit it, but yes, he has,” Youngmin agrees.

“You’d be the only man in Silla to call him honest, Kwak,” Jihoon laughs, having arrived in the garden at some point when you and Youngmin had been talking.

“Jihoon,” Youngmin smiles at him and motions him over, “Would you like some tea?”

“No thank you,” the commander shakes his head, his demeanor becoming more serious, “Have you heard about the notice board by the river?”

“The one that calls for the arrest of Baekje loyalists?” Youngmin asks before answering himself, “I have.”

“Some assholes tore it down and threw it into the water,” Jihoon relays, crossing his arms.

“I heard about that as well,” the leader nods, “Didn’t they fix it the next day?”

“Yes, but then it happened again,” Jihoon huffs, “I have a feeling we’re going to be asked to keep an eye on it sooner or later.” 

“It was torn down at night, wasn’t it?” Youngmin muses, “What about using Seungcheol’s Fury Corps?” With the way Jihoon looks after Youngmin’s suggestion, it’s easy to see it doesn’t sit right with the commander. 

“They work hard enough but they get… excited once the sun goes down.” Jihoon uncrosses his arms, “Whenever we give them something to do, they end up slaughtering instead of arresting. They desecrate the corpses until they’re unrecognizable. I don’t know if it’s to hide our involvement or what, but they’ve been going too far.” He shakes his head as if to rid himself of the thought, “Despite me telling them to stop, they won’t. If they keep it up then they’ll be no better than the average murderer.” 

You still can recall the night you’d first encountered the Furies, their bloodlust and the utter lack of regard for human life.

“… I have other ideas of what we can do.” Jihoon says, looking towards Youngmin.

“I’ll leave it to you then,” the leader nods with a sigh. “Have you heard of the reforms that Cha Sohwan is trying to initiate with the crown?”

Before long, the two of them delve further into political jargon and names that you’d never heard of before, so you excuse yourself and walk back to the inner buildings. There’s much on your mind, but the notice board is what really confuses you. Most of the revivalists were have thought to have retreated back to the land of the old kingdom, does this mean that there are still a few hiding out in Seorabeol?

𝔐𝔞𝔶 17𝔱𝔥, 663 – 𝔅𝔲𝔩𝔤𝔲𝔨𝔰𝔞 𝔗𝔢𝔪𝔭𝔩𝔢, 𝔎𝔦𝔫𝔤𝔡𝔬𝔪 𝔬𝔣 𝔖𝔦𝔩𝔩𝔞 Jihoon seems to have been right about the notice board, a few days later the order arrived telling the Hwarang that they’re to guard the board and apprehend anyone who seeks to destroy it. Any captains and their division not on active patrol are to be positioned there to guard it. The first few days proved to be calm, with most of the men rolling in in the morning looking dead tired. 

Junhui is a great example of this, you notice it when you walk into the great hall and he’s slumped over in his chair, his cheek pressed against the tabletop as he yawns. “Morning,” a lazy wave towards you, “I’m beat.”

“I’d have thought you were better at pulling all-nighters,” Mingyu mutters next to him, leaning back in his chair.

“Pulling all-nighters in Noseo-dong is different than standing guard for a goddamn sign,” Junhui groans, pushing himself off the tabletop. “It’s not like I want the posting to be vandalized, I just wish something would happen. You’re in charge of it tonight, aren’t you Gyu?”

“Yeah,” the other nods, “And I will uphold my position with my sense of duty, honor and enthusiasm.” It’s obviously sarcasm that leeches from his voice, but you can’t fault him but so much, it does sound awfully boring. 

“Good morning Captain Kim, Dongyoung,” You nod as the two brush past you and head further into the hall.

“Hello, you three,” Gongmyung greets with a tired sigh, “Did I interrupt something here?” As he speaks a few of his men filter into the room, taking up a rather large portion of the space.

“Are you up to something here?” Mingyu asks as he watches the men file in, “What’s with all your men?”

“Me?” Gongmyung looks at him and smiles, “I was planning on holding a debate with my men on the topic of the potential Baekje threat. Would you like to join us?”

“You’re such a jackass,” Dongyoung says quietly and rolls his eyes at his brother. “I’m sure Mingyu’s read the Four Books and Five Classics but I doubt the other two even know what those are.”

“Don’t be impolite, Dongyoung,” his brother scolds without any real scorn behind it. He looks to you and Junhui, “Excuse him, I’m not sure what’s been affecting my dear brother as of late. But as it looks as if the hall’s in use, I’ll just take my men elsewhere.” With that, Gongmyung beckons his followers to follow him out of the hall, heading for another building in the compound. 

As soon as they were out of sight, a look of disgust comes over Junhui, “Him and his groupies are just a bunch of pompous nobles.” 

“Gathering his men and having secret meetings,” Mingyu frowns, “Who knows what they’re actually ‘debating’.” His head shakes with confusion, “I still don’t see why both Kwak and Soonyoung saw him as a valuable asset.”

Gongmyung isn’t just disliked by Junhui and Mingyu, more Hwarang than you can count had expressed distaste in him since he’d joined. There’s no way the captain hadn’t picked up on that by now, but he seems less than concerned of what everyone else thinks of him. 

“Have any of you seen Captain Kim go by?” A new voice appears in the doorway, it’s Suh Kangjoon, looking a little frazzled.

“He just left to go to another building,” you say quickly, “I think he’s going to have some kind of debate.”

A frustrated sigh, “I told him to tell me when he’d have his next meeting…” With that, Kangjoon storms off, probably going to find the captain.

“What was that about?” Junhui mutters as he watches Kangjoon stomp away.

“My guess is that he tried to join Gongmyung’s little posse but he’s not giving Kangjoon the time of day,” Mingyu shrugs. “It seems like he doesn’t really have a place for himself these days.” Another glance outside and Mingyu sighs, standing from his chair and stretching a bit, “I guess I should head out now.”

“Oh, actually—” You begin, and he turns to look at you. “Can I go with you?”

Mingyu seems to think on it for a moment before shaking his head, “I’m not sure that’s a good idea. Those Demons are still out there and these revivalists aren’t much better if we come across them.”

“I guess you’re right,” you frown, the sedentary nighttimes at the compound are just bugging you, you suppose. “Be careful, I know things are getting more hectic these days.”

“Will do,” he nods before spinning on his heels and bounding out the door. 

𝔐𝔞𝔶 9𝔱𝔥, 663 – 𝔑𝔬𝔰𝔢𝔬-𝔡𝔬𝔫𝔤, 𝔎𝔦𝔫𝔤𝔡𝔬𝔪 𝔬𝔣 𝔖𝔦𝔩𝔩𝔞 That night the loyalists struck, or at least tried to. Nearly a dozen men descended on Mingyu and his men as they kept guard over the sign. Kim’s men were able to apprehend a handful of them, but two of them had managed to escape. The Crown had praised their efforts, but when asked on how two of the prisoners got away, Mingyu had replied with ‘It was too dark to make sense of everything’ and left it at that.

A few days after the event, you accompany the captains to a meal in Noseo-dong, a neighborhood in Seorabeol known for its nightlife. It only takes you a moment after stepping into the area to know exactly what kind of nightlife it is, you assume it’s the city’s pleasure district.

“You’ve really outdone yourself!” Junhui shouts upon entering the restaurant, wrapping his arm around Mingyu’s neck and pulling him in. “And to think you want to use your reward money to treat us all to some good food and entertainment— I could cry.”

“If you’re going to be a kissass you should at least mention how he got that reward,” Seungkwan snorts as the group is escorted to a private room in the back of the restaurant. You can hear various instruments and chatter through the doors of the other private areas in the restaurant, this doesn’t seem like a brothel or anything of the sort, merely a place to get a good meal with a kisaeng or two. 

“I’m just,” Junhui relinquishes his hold on Mingyu and pretends to wipe tears from his eyes, “I’m just so touched that he’s thinking of us. Let’s have a good time!”

“Don’t get too crazy, okay?” Mingyu says as he settles into his seat, “The last time I paid I’m pretty sure you almost wiped out my family’s savings.’

“Thanks Gyu,” Soonyoung says giddily, reaching for a nearby cup of what you can only assume is alcohol, “I’m going to drink myself stupid tonight!” 

“Not everyone here can drink, you know,” Seungkwan sighs from his seat.

“There is more to do than drink, you know,” Jihoon also sighs out, probably well aware of the trio’s antics by now, “Eat, for starters.”

“Oh no,” Seungkwan shakes his head at the commander, “I wasn’t talking about you, Lee. You can drink as much as you want.”

“Ah, well… makgeolli…” Jihoon trails off, a panicked expression overcoming him for a second.

“Don’t tell me that the Demon commander of the Hwarang can’t drink!” Seungkwan laughs aloud.

“You know damn well why I can’t,” Jihoon frowns and crosses his arms, “It’s obvious.”

Before the two can continue their conversation, a woman dressed in fine silk robes enters the room, you assume it’s one of the establishment’s kisaengs. 

“Thank you for coming,” she says with a smile as she walks in, the personality she exudes from her simple entrance breathtaking. Her hair neatly pinned up with subtle rouge on her lips and cheeks, an epitome of beauty if you’d ever seen one. “My name is Seulgi, I’ll be keeping you company tonight. For now, enjoy yourselves, your food will arrive shortly.”

She isn’t wrong, moments later a near feast lays itself before you and the captains, instigating the real opulence of the evening. 

“Expensive gokaju is just… way better,” Soonyoung says, his finger twirling on the rim of his cup as his cheeks flush red. 

“You haven’t even eaten anything, Soonyoung,” Junhui frowns down at the dishes, “You’re going to be on your ass in no time and I’m not dragging you back to headquarters.” 

“Forget that!” Soonyoung exclaims. “I never get to have alcohol this good! Never! Filling up on food will just leave less room for it inside of me,” a pout on his lips as he cradles his stomach lovingly. 

“You sound like a drunkard,” Mingyu shakes his head and pours him another glass from a nearby carafe, “Drink up.”

The captain’s head whips to look at Mingyu, “Just because you drink like there’s a hole in your stomach doesn’t mean the rest of us can.”

Junhui then looks to you, a quizzical expression on his face, “Aren’t you having fun? It doesn’t look like you drank anything.” 

“Ah, I don’t think I should,” You haven’t had too much experience with alcohol, most of it had been medical usage and you can’t really pull the memory away from it right now.

“Alright,” Junhui nods, “Just make sure you’re eating though! We’re here to have fun and it’d be a damn shame if you didn’t.”

You nod and continue picking at the dishes in front of you. This was the first time you’d eaten expensive food, but truthfully, it doesn’t taste all too different than a home cooked meal.

“I’ve heard that the Hwarang men are comparable to Demons or monsters,” Seulgi says, looking towards Jihoon, “But from here you look more handsome than I’d imagined you to be. Almost like an actor.”

Jihoon laughs, “That’s not the first time I’ve heard that.”

The two converse rather freely as she pours him a cup of gokaju, the scene looking as if it’d been painted rather than a real life occurrence. 

“I can’t believe they gave you all that money for just watching a board,” Junhui shakes his head as he looks to Mingyu, “Imagine what you could’ve gotten if you’d caught all the bastards. How did they get away?”

Mingyu falls silent, looking down at his cup before his gaze flickers to you, “You didn’t leave the compound that night, did you?”

Brow furrowing after he’s asked, you shake your head, “No, I didn’t.”

“You’re sure?” He prods again.

“Yes, I am,” a nod before you continue, “I’ve never left on my own, ever.”

“What’s wrong Kim,” Soonyoung asks, “see a ghost?”

“It must’ve been a mistake, then,” the captain shakes his head, “It was dark and there wasn’t any moonlight… But even then, I did see her up close…”

“What are you talking about?” Now your turn to ask a question, you inquire about Mingyu’s ramblings.

“After we’d surrounded the Baekje loyalists this girl showed up, a girl who looked just like you.” He says and your confusion sets in, “She got in the way and messed up our formation.”

The room goes silent, even though Mingyu has been speaking in a hushed tone, the chatter doesn’t resume until Junhui speaks up.

“Well, shit happens, I guess,” he makes a move for his glass and finishes the contents in one go, “Mingyu’s paying tonight so let’s drink and milk him for every cent he’s got!”

“Seconded!” Soonyoung, picking up on the cue, takes his own glass and downs the contents, slamming it back down onto his tray, “Let’s see how much more I can handle!”

The two have the party back in swing in no time, but now your thoughts lay plagued with what Mingyu had divulged. You feel perplexed, unsure of how to process what he’d said. There was no way it could’ve been you, but someone who looks just like you makes things more difficult for the Hwarang. 

“Are you worried about what Kim said?” Seungkwan pulls you from your thoughts with the question. 

“I was wondering how someone could look just like me…”

“Maybe you were possessed by a ghost,” he suggests with a snicker, “Whenever you sleep a restless spirit takes you over to wander the streets of Seorabeol.”

You shake your head at him, “I’m having trouble believing that that’s it.”

Seungkwan pauses for a moment, remembering something before he speaks, “Do you remember that one time you were patrolling with Soonyoung and there was a girl he and I saved? She looked just like you.”

You’d almost forgotten the incident, but it now rushes back to you with a vivid clarity. “It must be her!”

“I can’t imagine many more girls in Seorabeol look like you,” he nods.

“She seemed normal though, not like an enemy of the Hwarang.”

“There isn’t one person in this city that doesn’t know how important that notice board is,” Seungkwan shakes his head.

“If that is her, what will you do?” You question, an uneasy feeling rising in your stomach.

“I have a feeling you already know that answer.” He lets out a sigh, “I’d kill her. She may be a girl, but an enemy is an enemy.”

The air in the room becomes all the more suffocating to you. You knew that would be his answer but the way he said it with no hesitance got to you. 

“I’m uh, going to go use the restroom,” you say and push yourself to your feet, just trying to get yourself out of the room.

It takes a moment, but you find an empty room further down the hall to collect your thoughts in. You take a seat at one of the open windows looking out into a small courtyard and frown. Was the girl whom the Hwarang had saved that day truly a Baekje loyalist? It doesn’t make sense to you.

You hear the door open and someone speaks up, “There you are, I’d wondered where you’d run off to.” Turning, you’re met face to face with Jihoon, a light dusting of pink on his cheeks as he speaks, “Is something wrong? The food not good?”

“No, it’s good,” you nod, “I actually had something else on my mind.”

“You’re worried about the girl Mingyu saw,” he nods, catching onto your thoughts. “It’s not like she’s your friend or anything, right?” Sensing your apprehension, he continues, “Don’t worry about it, it’s our business to handle. Or was Seungkwan trying to rile you up again?” Your expression gives it away and the commander sighs, “He doesn’t know when to stop.”

Jihoon ambles over and takes a seat beside you, “I’ve always said his humor is a bad influence on the new members.” Through the now open door of the room you can hear the shouts of the Hwarang some ways away, vaguely hearing Junhui request a brush and ink from one of the hostesses. The commander chuckles at it, the warm breeze drifting in, blowing a few strands of his hair around his face. “They never change,” he muses.

“Back at Youngmin’s father’s school we’d drink like this whenever we got a day off,” Jihoon reminisces, looking up at the moon hanging overhead, “This just reminds me of that. Youngmin’s father would hound our asses every day and once we were able to let go for a night, we went crazy. Of course, we’d show up to lessons the next day feeling like shit and he’d work us even harder but still… We kept on doing it. To spite him, probably. He was always shitty to his son and we promised that we’d follow Youngmin wherever he went so no one could treat him like that again.”

It’s hard to imagine Jihoon in those days, when you first met him, he’d already been designated as the Hwarang’s commander. So, it is very difficult to picture him as a kid following around his ragtag group of friends.

“I still think about those days with Seungkwan, Eunseok, Hoseok and Youngmin every once in a while,” he sighs out, “It wasn’t long ago that I was playing soldier with my brother and now I practically am one for the Crown. I sometimes wonder if it’s all a dream and eventually I’ll just wake up one day in my childhood bed.” 

This is the second time you’ve heard the name Hoseok mentioned around Jihoon, you’ve never met him before but with the way he’d said his name, you’re sure it’s someone he’s fond of.

Jihoon takes a moment to look up at the stars some more and you can’t help but notice how beautiful he is. Seulgi had been right earlier when she said he has the looks of an actor. The face the commander normally portrays is cold and demure, but now he looks almost happy as he reminisces.

The spell breaks after you and he hear Junhui crying out through the tavern, yet upon further inspection it seems as if he’s crying laughing rather than just weeping. Soonyoung and Mingyu’s voice raise as well, all three laughing about something as you continue to sit with Jihoon.

𝔒𝔠𝔱𝔬𝔟𝔢𝔯 30𝔱𝔥, 663 – 𝔅𝔲𝔩𝔤𝔲𝔨𝔰𝔞 𝔗𝔢𝔪𝔭𝔩𝔢, 𝔎𝔦𝔫𝔤𝔡𝔬𝔪 𝔬𝔣 𝔖𝔦𝔩𝔩𝔞 After the siege by Silla on Buyeo Pung’s fortress at Imjeon, the newly crowned Baekje king and his people fled further into their homeland, taking residence at the former capital of Sabi. Shortly after, Buyeo Pung has his lead general, Gwisil Boksin beheaded for fears of insurgency in the newly reformed kingdom, subsequently calling for aid from their allies in Yamato to try and suppress both Tang and Silla forces on the peninsula.

The tensions between Silla and the Baekje revivalists culminate in early October, when, on the fourth, Yamato forces arrive on the coastal front of Sabi. Intent on invading the capital in the name of their Baekje allies through navigating the Baekgang River, they soon found themselves interlocked in battle with the Tang army stationed nearby. 

Emperor Gaozong merely requested supplies from Silla at first, until the next day they call for standing troops. This means that several Hwarang were sent to fight the front lines, among them, Kim Mingyu, Choi Hansol and Wen Junhui had taken their men to fight amongst the Baekje-Yamato forces. On the seventh, the Baekje-Yamato and Silla-Tang forces engaged in battle once more, with the Yamato forces reeling with heavy casualties as the Silla warriors were able to break through their lines.

What comes to be known as the Battle of Baekgang ends on the thirteenth of October, 663. With little to no way of defeating the Silla forces on land or the Tang forces at sea, Buyeo Pung is forced to retreat. Neither the Silla nor Tang forces can capture him before he escapes into Goguryeo. Yet, the absence of a king quells the thoughts of a Baekje revival for some time after. 

In lieu of waiting for the three captains return, you find yourself sweeping the entranceway of the temple’s grounds, the autumnal air setting into your bones as the minutes pass. There isn’t a great much you can do as you anticipate their arrival, merely picking up things out of place and making sure no one’s snuck around and gone through their things while they were gone.

“You’re certainly hard at work,” Youngmin notes as he’s come outside to see what you’ve been up to. “The captains should be returning any day now.”

“I know,” You smile, expectant on their return, “Everything’s been hectic these last few months.” 

“You can say that again,” the leader sighs out. It’s been especially taxing to both him and Jihoon, who’d been called nearly every other day to the palace to discuss further plans on the fate of the remaining Baekje loyalists. “Oh,” Youngmin says as he spots a figure nearing him around a corner you can’t see behind, “Over here, Jihoon!”

The Hwarang’s commander comes into view seconds later, a tired edge to his voice, “There you are, I was wondering if you’d had enough and escaped yet.”

Youngmin laughs, “Almost to that point, I’m afraid. I’ve been looking for you too, it seems as if Lui Jengui’s been chosen to front the effort to extract Buyeo Pung from Goguryeo.”

“Him?” Jihoon nods slowly, “I guess it makes sense, he did just secure Sabi for Silla. The captains will have to tell us more about him once they get back.”

JENNIE ✧ CALLING ALL PRETTY GIRLS

◈ love of my life // yoon jeonghan

jeonghan x gn!reader, 2k+ words

tags: technically requested by lots of people bc everyone wants jeonghan fluff, childhood friends to lovers, fluff, crack, mutual pining, almost-confessions

warnings: light swearing

summary: in which your relationship with jeonghan isn't exactly platonic and isn't exactly romantic... but rather, it's a secret third thing.

It has to be at least two in the morning when Jeonghan's ringtone blares throughout his bedroom, and he rolls over with a groan, grappling blindly at his nightstand before finding his phone and pressing it against his cheek. 

“Who is this and what do you want?”

“Jeonghan, let's go on a date.”

He recognises your voice in an instant, even in his half-asleep state, and he huffs a laugh, flopping back against the pillows and rubbing his eyes. 

“Gee, at least ask me when it's not ass o'clock in the morning, won't you?”

“No, no, this only works if you get up right now,” you say. “Come on, Jeonghan, just go on a date with me. Right at this very moment.”

Jeonghan rubs his eyes, before taking his phone away from his cheek and peering at the screen so he can read the time. “See, you’re not presenting a very good argument,” he says, once he’s put the phone against his ear again. It’s almost three in the morning. What are you thinking? “I don’t wanna date you that much.”

You make a sad sound on the other end of the phone. “What will it take to get you out of the house?”

“Wire me an obscene amount of money right now and I’ll think about it.”

There’s a pause.

“No. Best I can offer is a pretty please.”

Jeonghan can’t help smiling at your dry tone, and he rubs his eyes once again with a yawn. “Fine. I guess I can’t expect anything better from you, anyway.” He can almost see you biting your lip in annoyance, wanting to quip something witty back at him but also wanting to keep quiet so he’ll actually come. 

“You know me so well.”

“Yes I do,” Jeonghan teases, and groggily hauls himself out of bed. “I’ll be ready in ten. Where do you want me to go?”

“Don’t worry, princess, I’ll pick you up,” you say, suddenly sounding excited. “Just wait for me and I’ll come over to take you out.”

Jeonghan raises an eyebrow. “Is that a threat?”

You laugh, bright and happy, like it’s not four in the morning and you’ve asked your best friend to go on a date with you. Jeonghan can’t help but smile again, even as he grapples blindly through his dark room to find some clothes.

“Don’t worry. It’s a promise.”

───────────── 🌘

Jeonghan is, admittedly, more than a little confused when you just take him to the nearest playground.

Sure, maybe this entire thing is weird—you calling him up during ridiculous hours of the morning to “go on a date” is definitely not something you’ve done before—but that’s just the kind of friendship he and you have. 

It’s like how, last year, he spent an entire month calling you increasingly ridiculous pet names, ranging from “beloved” to “honey butter snuggles bunny bear”, and purposefully took you out to public cafes and restaurants to test them out for everyone to see and hear, preventing you from punching him as hard as he probably deserved. 

So this is, like, nothing new. Just a funny and silly thing the two of you do, because you've known each other for the whole of your lives, and when it comes to the way your relationship works, the lines separating “platonic” and “romantic” have always been curiously nonexistent. 

It doesn’t mean anything. It’s never meant to mean anything.

But sometimes, sometimes, it feels like it should.

“I think I’m going to end up alone forever,” you say abruptly, and Jeonghan looks over at you in surprise. You’re sitting on the swings next to him, dragging yourself back and forth as you look up at the sky. There’s nothing to see up there, with the clouds obscuring any moonlight, so it's obvious that you're just looking away so he can't see your face. 

It's so quiet; Jeonghan didn't realise that the world could be this quiet at 2 in the morning, and it makes your words echo extra loud into the abyss, before they're swallowed by the darkness. 

Jeonghan shrugs. “Maybe you will.”

Instantly, you're leaning over to swat him on the arm, and he laughs. 

“Asshole,” you say, but there's no venom in your voice, even as you level him with a glare. “You're really no help. I'm trying to unload all my deepest fears for you, here, practically begging you to reassure me, and yet all you can do is be mean.”

“You said one thing,” Jeonghan points out. “I don't think that counts as unloading all your deepest fears.”

“Yeah, well, maybe it's my only deepest fear.”

“Why are you unloading your deepest fear on me?” Jeonghan asks, kicking his legs out in front of him. “We're on a date. Our first date, mind you, so this hardly seems appropriate.”

“Asshole,” you say again, but like before, the word has no bite. You glance over at him, before realising that he's looking at you, and then quickly raise your gaze to the sky. “I'm being serious about this, you know.”

Jeonghan says nothing for a long moment. Watches the way the pale light from a nearby lamppost gives you an unearthly, almost otherworldly glow. 

“I'm being serious too,” he decides to say, looking up at the cloudy sky with you. “You shouldn't be saying that stuff on a first date. Kinda makes it sound like you don't think things will work out between us, you know?”

You huff a confused laugh, looking over at him again. “Jeonghan, wha—?”

“And maybe you will end up alone,” he carries on, thoughtfully, as if he's talking to himself, forgetting that you're sitting there too. “But maybe you won't. I think you probably won't. And even if you do, it's fine, because I'll still be with you.”

It's a painfully vulnerable thing to say, made doubly so by the quietness of the night. Like a love confession, almost. Except it's not, because he's not in love with you. 

He isn't. 

“That's really sweet,” you say, almost begrudgingly, as if it pains you to admit that Jeonghan actually said something nice, and he laughs. “Though wrong. If you’re with me, then I'm not alone, am I?”

“Oh, I see. When you said alone, you meant in general. I thought you meant, like, romantically.”

“Well, maybe. But maybe I also meant overall,” you shrug. “I didn't think you'd want to spend the rest of your life with me.”

Jeonghan swallows, tilts back on the swings, head still raised to look at the sky. “I want to spend every life with you.”

You look away from the sky at his words, turning to face him in surprise. The echoes of what he’d just said were already fading away, muffled and pressed into the velvet dark of the night, but the surprisingly soft air that followed in its wake still remained.

 Now, he's the one avoiding your gaze, keeping his eyes firmly locked on the shapeless, misty blur of clouds above him so he doesn’t have to look at you. Out of the corner of his eye, he can see you tilt your head, and smile. 

“Oh, look at you, you sap,” you say, bright and teasing. “Face it, you like being with me. Oh! I bet you're in love with me, seeing as how you agreed to date me and everything! Isn't that right, Jeonghan? You love me.”

Jeonghan pulls a face, and you burst into laughter, so ridiculously loud and happy even though it's two in the morning and the whole playground is silent, the sound of your happiness ringing against the cool air of the night. He can't help but look at you then, exasperated and fond, shaking his head as you grip the swing chains and sway back and forth, still giggling to yourself. 

He sniffs, feigning annoyance as he leans to the side, making a dramatic show of pulling his swing away from you. 

“This isn't a real date. I could never date you.” He scrunches his face in faux disgust for good measure, and you laugh again, rolling your eyes. 

“Yeah, yeah, whatever. And yet you still came out when I called, didn't you?” you tease, smiling widely, and Jeonghan has to admit that you're right. He's here because you asked him to be here. He’s here for you.

Hm. This was getting weirdly soul-baringly truthful for what he’d thought would be a silly little hangout in the middle of the night.

“Next time you call me at 2am, I’m blocking you forever,” he says dryly, giving you an exaggerated look of disdain just so he can revel in the laugh that it pulls out of you.

“No you won’t,” you say cheerily. “Because you looove me.”

“Um, lies.”

“No lies. You literally love me so much.”

“I don’t.”

“You do.”

“No, I don’t.”

“You do. You do, you do, you do, you’re actually genuinely in love with me and there’s nothing you can do to deny it, because it’s so obvious that I’m literally the love of your l—”

Jeonghan makes a clicking sound with his tongue and leans over to shove your arm, causing you to swing to the side as you cackle with delight at his reaction. He glares at you, again, sighing with exasperation as you continue to laugh.

“Yes, yes, I love you, just as much as you love me. Now if we’re not actually doing anything of importance, then can I go home?”

“What?” you say indignantly. “Of course not! If I can’t sleep, then that means you’re not allowed to sleep either.”

“I knew it. You called me out here because you couldn’t fall asleep.”

“Duh. Now come and push my swing, will you?”

Jeonghan rolls his eyes and stands up from his swing, groaning and holding his knees like he’s some kind of grumpy grandpa. You laugh, mocking him for his bad joints as he walks around to stand behind you, and he snarks back something ridiculously funny and rippling with light, twisting through the cool air.

And then his hand presses against the small of your back, soft and yet sure, and suddenly all you can focus on is that gentle, feathery point of contact that connects you to him.

Your laughter subsides as he begins to gently push your swing, and you move up, and down, and up, and down, the fleeting warmth of his hand an intermittent pressure against your back. He doesn’t say a word. Everything is quiet, in your head. Like his touch alone could silence any worries that still floated around in your brain.

It’s one of the things you adore most about Jeonghan. He makes you feel safe.

“For the record, by the way,” you say, voice quiet, “I really do love you.”

There’s no noise but the metallic creak of the swing, sounding weirdly small in the yawning abyss of the dark. Jeonghan’s hand is still steady as he pushes you, again and again.

“As a friend?” he asks, eventually.

You can’t see him, and maybe that’s for the best. His voice is tinged with a colour, an emotion, that you can’t quite name, warm and cool and fleeting and present all at once.

Yet more silence greets his words. You continue swinging, and he continues helping.

It’s hard to know what he means by that. As a friend, in a hopeful way? As a friend, in a meaningful way? Or as a friend, in a way that could maybe, maybe, signal that he thinks, or wishes, that you mean... something else.

More.

These things are difficult to tell, when it comes to Jeonghan. Who wears his heart on his sleeve and yet also hides it away where no one can see.

“Yeah,” you say, after it has been far too long since he’d asked, but it’s clear that you were both waiting for your answer anyway. The word leaves you as a sigh, threadbare and thin. “As a friend.”

Jeonghan huffs a soft laugh. Maybe because he believes you, or maybe because he doesn’t. You’re not too sure.

“Okay,” he murmurs, pale as moonlight. “In which case, I love you too.”

fics tags: @jeonginssa @weird-bookworm @minhui896 @slytherinshua @haowrld @belladaises @moonlitskiiies @mirxzii @zozojella @kawennote09 @a-wandering-stay @abibliolife @doublasting @wonranghaeee @icyminghao @sweet-like-caramel @your-yxnnie @odxrilove @kyeomyun @crackedpumpkin @jeonride @kellesvt @eightlightstar @onlyyjeonghan @aaniag @starshuas @raevyng @isabellah29 @hrts4hanniehae @mcu-incorrect @dokyeomkyeom @suraandsugar @haodore @tulsa24 @melodicrabbit

Hear me out, you have a crush on SVT (following them around, giving them gifts etc) but one day you stop doing that and start ignoring them, how do they react!??

when you start to ignore them — seventeen a your crush

hyung line / maknae line

seungcheol doesn’t notice right away. at first, he thinks you’re just having an off day—maybe you're busy, maybe you’re just tired, but then a few days pass, and the silence starts to feel heavy. no more small gifts, no more lingering smiles when you catch his eye. nothing.

he can’t stand it. seungcheol’s the type to act tough, but the way you suddenly stopped all your little gestures? it eats at him. “what the fuck,” he mutters under his breath when you pass him by, not even sparing a glance. his chest tightens. you’ve always been there, always giving him attention, and now… nothing?

he texts you once, just a casual “you good?” but when you leave him on read, something snaps in him. you’re ignoring him on purpose. the next time he sees you, he grabs your wrist, pulling you into an empty hallway. “what’s your problem?” his voice is sharp, but there’s a hint of desperation in it. “did i do something? why are you acting like i don’t exist?”

he doesn’t get it—why you stopped. he misses the attention, misses you, and for the first time, he feels vulnerable, wondering if he pushed you away without even realizing it.

jeonghan notices the shift immediately. he's always been sharp, always able to read people. when you stop following him around, when you stop trying to make him smile with little gifts or compliments, he can feel the change in the air.

at first, he finds it amusing. “oh, so you're playing hard to get now?” he teases, half-expecting you to blush and laugh it off, but you don’t. you just shrug and walk away. and for once, jeonghan doesn’t have a quick comeback. it starts to bother him, more than he’d like to admit. the absence of your attention leaves a strange void. he used to roll his eyes when you'd bring him coffee or leave him little notes, but now? he catches himself looking for them.

he corners you one day, that sly smile on his face, but his eyes give him away. “did you get bored of me already?” he tries to joke, but his voice wavers, just enough for you to notice. when you don’t answer, he steps closer, his fingers brushing against yours. “i miss you,” he admits quietly, his smirk fading. “don’t you miss me too?”

joshua pretends not to care at first. he’s good at hiding his feelings, always calm, always collected. when you stop showering him with attention, he tells himself it’s fine, maybe even a relief.

but it’s not.

he starts to overthink—did he say something wrong? did he push you away? the questions spiral in his head, and soon enough, he’s analyzing every interaction the two of you ever had. one evening, when you pass by without so much as a glance, something in him cracks. “hey,” he calls out, his voice a little too soft, a little too careful. when you turn around, he hesitates, trying to find the right words.

“did i do something wrong?” his voice is small, almost vulnerable. “you used to… i mean, we used to…” he trails off, rubbing the back of his neck, awkwardly searching for the right way to say he misses you. he doesn’t want to come off as needy, but the truth is, he misses your attention more than he thought he would. “just… talk to me. please.”

jun doesn't know what to do with the silence. he's never been great with words, always a bit awkward, but he’s used to you being there. used to your constant presence, your gifts, your smiles. so when you stop, he feels lost. he tries to act normal, tries to laugh it off like it doesn’t bother him, but it does. it really, really does.

one day, after you’ve ignored him for too long, he blurts it out. “did i do something to piss you off?” it’s blunt, but that’s all he knows how to be. his eyes are wide, his hands fidgeting as he waits for your response. “you used to… i don’t know, you used to care.” his voice cracks at the end, and he quickly looks away, embarrassed by how desperate he sounds.

he doesn’t know how to fix it, doesn’t even know what went wrong, but he wants your attention back. he misses it, misses you, and it’s killing him that he doesn’t know how to get you to care again.

soonyoung’s never been good at subtle. when he likes someone, everyone knows. and he thought it was the same with you. you were always there, always laughing at his dumb jokes, bringing him snacks after practice, and just hanging around, like you couldn’t get enough of him. but now? you’re distant. cold, even. no more gifts, no more texts, and it’s driving him up the wall.

“are you mad at me?” he asks one day, voice unsure, eyes wide with that puppy-dog look that usually works on everyone. you just shake your head. “no, everything’s fine.” but he knows it’s not. everything’s changed, and he hates it. soonyoung’s the kind of guy who thrives on attention, and without yours, he feels off-balance, like something’s missing. he doesn’t know how to fix it, and the more he tries, the worse it seems to get.

he starts showing off more, trying harder to make you laugh, but nothing works. and it’s fucking with him, making him doubt himself in ways he never has before. because he liked the way you made him feel, and now that it’s gone, he doesn’t know how to handle it.

jihoon is another one who pretends he doesn’t care. he’s always been good at that—keeping his emotions locked up tight, never letting anyone get too close. but you? you somehow slipped through the cracks. you were always there, bringing him coffee when he worked late, leaving notes on his desk with dumb doodles or stupid jokes that made him smile when no one was looking.

now it’s like you’ve disappeared. you’re still around, sure, but you don’t bother with him anymore. no more coffee, no more notes. nothing. he tells himself it’s for the best. that it’s better this way, less distracting. but deep down, it stings. because he liked having you around, more than he’d ever admit. one night, he stays late, hoping you’ll show up like you always used to. when you don’t, he feels a pang of disappointment in his chest. he hates it. hates how much he misses you. he sends you a text, something short and casual: “you haven’t been around much lately.” when you don’t respond, he stares at his phone, frustrated. he throws his head back, closing his eyes. “fuck,” he mutters under his breath, wondering when he got so attached to your presence.

he watches you sometimes, sees you talking to other people, laughing like everything’s fine, and it makes something twist in his chest. he wants to ask you why, but he’s too stubborn, too proud to admit that it’s bothering him. so he stays quiet, burying himself in his work, trying to forget the way it felt to have your attention. but no matter how hard he tries, he can’t shake the feeling that something’s missing.

wonwoo doesn’t say anything at first. he’s quiet, observant, and he notices right away when you stop hanging around, but he doesn’t know how to bring it up.

he tells himself he’s fine with it, that maybe it’s for the best. but then he realizes how much he actually looked forward to your little gifts, your presence. he misses the way you’d light up when you saw him, the way you’d try to get his attention in your own subtle way. when you start ignoring him, it feels… empty.

one day, he finds himself walking up to you, his hands in his pockets, trying to act casual. “you’ve been avoiding me,” he says, his voice soft but direct. “did something happen?” there’s a sincerity in his eyes that’s hard to miss. “i… i miss you. i don’t know why you stopped, but…” he hesitates, glancing down before meeting your gaze again. “i liked having you around. i still do.” he doesn’t push for answers, but the quiet hope in his voice says it all. he just wants you back.

Not Dead Yet | Part 01

-> Pairing: Yoon Jeonghan x Medium-Fem!Reader

-> Sypnosis: After a strange encounter, Jeonghan wakes up outside of his body. The only person who can see him is Y/N, a woman with a gift (or curse as she would call it) who is able to see and communicate with the deceased. But Jeonghan isn't dead... not yet anyway.

-> Warnings: Supernatural au. There is a mention of God's and collapsing. Jeonghan is a bit of a heart breaker/player. Only mentioned once that reader has dark hair. This was going to be just a prologue but it ended up a chapter.

-> Word Count: 1,605

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Not Dead Yet Masterlist | SEVENTEEN M.List

As Jeonghan walks with Ji-Ah, the woman he’s been seeing for the last three weeks, alongside the Han River, he takes this moment to do what he’s been trying to do all night. He drops her hand as he stops walking and turns to face the river, his arms resting on the railing. Ji-Ah notices the shift in the atmosphere as soon as Jeonghan lets go of her hand. The warmth of his touch is replaced by a sudden chill in the air. With concern, she turns to face him but before she could say anything, he starts to speak.  

“Ji-Ah,” he begins, his voice feigning regret. “I’m sorry, this just isn't working for me.”   

“What do you mean?” she asks, her voice barely above a whisper. “We’ve only just started getting to know each other.”  

He can hear the hurt in her voice but he feels no sympathy. “Listen, Ji-Ah,” he continues, starting his well-rehearsed go-to break up speech, “You’re an incredible woman. It’s just that I don’t think we’re a good match. I’m sure there’s someone wonderful out there for you. I just don’t think I’m that person.” 

“But it’s my birthday,” she whispers, her voice trembling as she fights back tears. 

"Aish," he mutters under his breath, recalling the reason they had gone out for dinner in the first place. For a fleeting moment, he feels a pang of guilt but quickly suppresses it. 

“I thought we had something special,” she sobs, unable to contain her tears any longer.  

"It's only been three weeks," he blurts out, not realizing the words had escaped him until he sees her expression, a mix of hurt and disbelief with tears streaming down her cheeks. 

“Do you even care?” Ji-Ah’s voice is barely above a whisper as it cuts through her cries.  

“Of course I care,” he says looking at her with faux sympathy and feeling slightly awkward that this wasn’t ending as quickly as he hoped. After all, they’d only been on four dates in the span of three weeks. According to him, that wasn’t a long enough time to get attached to someone. “I’m doing this because I care about you. I don’t want to waste your time on something that’s never going to work out. This way, you can find someone who truly deserves you and is worth your time.” 

“So, this is it?” she asks wiping her tears away. 

“I’m afraid so,” he nods.  

“Okay,” she says trying to put on a brave face and forget the embarrassment and hurt that’s coursing through her. “Thank you for making my birthday awful. I hope I never see you again.” 

“I hope so too,” he says, his words once again slipping out before he could stop them.  

“Maybe you’re right,” she concedes, her expression taking on one of offence. “This wouldn’t have worked out because you’re an asshole. I feel sorry for your next girlfriend.” With that she walks away deliberately bumping her shoulder against him as she passes. 

He grumbles to himself about how that could have gone a lot quicker and pulls out his phone, finding the number of the woman he met the day before and quickly sends her a text 'plans fell through. Do you want to meet up in 30 minutes?'.  

With a smile on his face, he makes his way back towards where his car is parked occasionally checking his phone for a reply. As he reaches his car, he finds a strange man wearing a black top hat, a bright orange suede jacket and horrendous green pants leaning against the tailgate. His expression is blank, not giving Jeonghan any indication of what his motives could be, but his deep brown eyes are fixed intently on him making Jeonghan feel like he was looking right into his soul. 

"Can I help you?" he asks the man with a hint of annoyance.  

"When are you going to stop breaking these lovely ladies' hearts?" the man replies, his voice calm and steady. "Yoon Jeonghan.” 

"Do I know you?" He asks, his eyes widening slightly. He’s 99% sure he’s never seen this man before this moment. 

“You don’t, but I’ve been watching you,” he replies, moving away from the car and steps closer to him. The man’s gaze remains steady, and Jeonghan feels a shiver run down his spine. There’s something unsettling about the way this stranger seems to know him. It’s as if he’s been examined under a microscope.  

Jeonghan shifts his weight, attempting to shake off the sudden wave of vulnerability that washes over him. "Look, I don’t know who you are or how you think you know me, but I’m not interested in whatever you have to say." 

The stranger chuckles softly, a sound that feels oddly out of place given the tension in the air. "Oh, but you should be, Yoon Jeonghan. I’m not here to lecture you on your romantic escapades. In fact, I’m here to give you a warning." 

“A warning?” Jeonghan furrows his brow, trying to make sense of the cryptic words. The man’s presence is unsettling, and the way he speaks feels almost as if he’s reciting lines from a play or a movie. “What warning? And how can I trust you? I don’t even know your name.”  

“You don’t need to know my name right now,” the man tells him. “The only person who will be able to see you will know my name and that’s when you’ll learn it.” 

"I really don’t have time for this," Jeonghan sighs, shaking his head as he goes to take a step past him to get into his car. "I have plans that I need to get to.” 

"Plans, you say?” The man says, tilting his head slightly, as if considering Jeonghan’s words. “I’m afraid the only plans you have are with the Gods.” 

Caught by surprise, Jeonghan turns back to the man, confusion written on his face. “The Gods? I don-” 

“Oops,” the man winces as he clicks his fingers and Jeonghan collapses to the ground unconscious. “Probably should have given him a heads-up first,” he says and then shrugs before walking away. “I did try to warn him.” 

When jeonghan finally regains awareness, he sits up and finds himself in a hospital room. The faint beeping of machines that monitor his vitals, rings loudly in his ears, the smell of antiseptic fills his nostrils and the fluorescent lights are harsh against his eyes. Before he could panic about how he ended up in hospital, the man from earlier enters his mind. The stranger’s words echo inside his head, a haunting reminder of the bizarre encounter they had and the warning he tried to give him. 

Wanting to find a nurse or doctor so he could get discharged knowing there can't be anything wrong with him, he gets out of bed and makes his way to the door.  

As he exits the room, a nurse walks by. He tries to get her attention by calling to her but she continues as if she doesn't hear him. Thinking she was being rude. He tries again as another nurse walks past him but she too ignores him. 

"Excuse me!" Jeonghan raises his voice, desperation slowly sinking into his tone. "Can someone please help me? I want to go home."  

But the nurses and other hospital staff continue past him, their expressions blank. It's as if he’s nothing more than a ghost haunting the halls of the hospital.  

Frustration bubbles within him, and he takes a step forward, determined to find someone who will acknowledge his presence. The fluorescent lights hum overhead and his heart races as he wanders down the corridor. He glances into the rooms he passes, catching glimpses of patients lying in beds, some asleep, some having visits with family members and others staring blankly at the ceiling with nothing else to do. 

Finally, he spots a doctor in a white coat, clipboard in hand, walking briskly toward him. Jeonghan rushes to intercept him. "Excuse me! Can you help me? I need to know what happened to me," he pleads, his voice tinged with urgency. But just like the nurses, the doctor brushes past him as if he were invisible.  

Feeling confused and overwhelmed, Jeonghan sinks into a chair meant for waiting families. He rests his elbows on his knees and buries his head in his hands, mumbling to himself.  

Eventually he lifts his head, glancing around the waiting area. The chairs are filled with families, most of their faces etched with worry or relief, some with boredom, but none of them seem to notice him. The weight of everything that’s happening starts to get to him, and he fights back the urge to scream and demand for someone to see him. 

Taking a deep breath, he stands up, a spark of determination igniting within him. Just as he prepares to approach the doctor at the nurse's station, the elevator doors across from him slide open. His heart races as he sees a figure step out, exuding a warmth and confidence that draws him in. Her dark hair is slightly tousled, as if she just rolled out of bed, and her outfit—a black faux leather jacket, a white shirt, ripped jeans, and white sneakers—makes him think she’s not part of the hospital staff. 

Before he can make another move, she looks up, their eyes connecting, and for the first time since waking up, he feels truly seen and is reminded of what the odd man from earlier said. 

“The only person who will be able to see you will know my name.” 

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SEVENTEEN - DK

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spoilers undercut

Another chapter with everything amazing to ponder about. First of all, I love how the chapter has followed an intense theme all throughout. Minghao saying “She said she wanted to stay,” “You have to learn to respect a woman’s wishes.”  made me so giddy for no reason at all & i wonder if Jisoo's “Minghao, do you really think I’d let you hurt a female Demon?” means something more than just respecting a woman; is there a scarcity of female demons? or if she's a rare one.

Finally some insight on father heo whereabouts, he chose to leave the crown? i wonder how much truth is behind that statement. I personally stand on Jisoo's & doc. namekawa's side of the argument of stopping the use of serum. Seungcheol & Jihoon's characters have been a little annoying this chapter (which only tells how great of a writer you're to be able to manifest those specific emotions from the reader) considering they are the brains of hwarang, how to do they fail to realise the cons of the reasearch they are trying to do even after seeing all the gore and jisoo's very clear warning (as it was pretty obvious he knew much more about it than csc & ljh). However, I do understand it is for the sake of plot and it adds to the story A LOT skskks. I wish later, jisoo & protagonist get more time to talk about this demon thingy.

Also, who was that female in the street who supposedly knew seungkwan and looked alot like the protagonist. As usual I've many questions waiting to be answered in the next chapter & you never fail to surprise me with your beautiful writing!! 🤍

𝔥𝔴𝔞𝔯𝔞𝔫𝔤 - 𝔩𝔧𝔥 || 𝔭𝔞𝔯𝔱 𝔦𝔦

pairing: lee jihoon x female!reader genre: historical au, fluff, angst, smut (later routes), supernatural members: choi seungcheol, wen junhui, kwon soonyoung, jeon wonwoo, lee seokmin, kim mingyu, boo seungkwan, lee chan, xu minghao, hong jisoo warnings: crass humor and language, blood, violence, mentions of suicide, alcohol, minor character death, 660's sexism, crossdressing, medical procedures, political upset, historical innacuarcies for the sake of plot progression word count: 16.6k summary: riding the highs and lows coming from the crown ordered raids and sieges, the hwarang find themselves in deeper trouble when mysterious figures begin emerging and demanding something strange- you.

taglist: @hipsdofangirl

𝔭𝔞𝔯𝔱 𝔦 || 𝔭𝔞𝔯𝔱 𝔦𝔦𝔦

𝔉𝔢𝔟𝔯𝔲𝔞𝔯𝔶 6𝔱𝔥, 662 - 𝔖𝔢𝔬𝔯𝔞𝔟𝔢𝔬𝔩, 𝔎𝔦𝔫𝔤𝔡𝔬𝔪 𝔬𝔣 𝔖𝔦𝔩𝔩𝔞 The new year sweeps in not unexpectedly, but with a gust of cold that chills you to your core. Seorabeol sits under a blanket of snow, much like it had when you first arrived a little over a year ago now.  

You finish eating breakfast with the captains a little earlier than they do, you excuse yourself to make them some tea before their morning briefing. Thankfully, the halls remain warm, so you don’t need to worry about the winter chill as you make your way back to the main hall, the smattering of captains sitting around.  

“Thank you,” Eunseok says as you set down a cup for him, a smile on his lips as he wraps his cold fingers around the steaming cup. You make your way around the hall to give the captains their drinks, most giving you a curt but appreciative nod as you do so.

“The monks at this temple have been nice enough to let us stay here this long,” Jihoon calls out, disrupting your thoughts as he speaks to the captains, “but Shoshin is getting crowded.” 

“Especially with all of the new guys coming in,” Mingyu agrees, nodding his head. 

“If we could get a bigger space, that’d be good,” Junhui adds, a tinge to his voice as if he’s thinking about how little room there is to move around these days. “Even in the overflow buildings it’s stuffy.” 

“Most of these kids are nobles too, not accustomed to living like this,” Mingyu sighs, not vouching for them, just knowing it would take some time to acquaint themselves with their newfound home. 

“If we can find somewhere bigger to host us,” Seungkwan says, “I’m sure the newbies would be more appreciative.” 

“What about Bulguksa Temple?” The man sitting next to Youngmin speaks up, glancing over to the map hanging in the front of the room.  

“Bulguksa?” Suh Kangjoon frowns, looking towards the map, “Isn’t that a bit far?” 

“Maybe,” the man shrugs, “But it’s one of the only places big enough to accommodate the Seorabeol Hwarang. And its position would allow a tactical advantage in times of panic, it’s a relatively easy place to fortify.” 

After he’s done speaking, the man leans back in his chair to see what the others have to say. Kim Gongmyung had joined the Hwarang on Soonyoung’s excursion to Hanseong in early autumn of last year. His family’s school is quite popular there and his academics gained him notoriety with the nobles of the area. “Besides, it’s closer to the border so if there’s a need to intercept or fend off any Baekje loyalists looking for trouble, it’d put us in the best spot to do so.” 

“Those are good points,” Youngmin nods enthusiastically, “An exceptional amount of detail as always, Gongmyung.” 

Even if the chief thought it to be a good idea, a few voices rose in opposition. 

“Isn’t it a bit… presumptive to do something like that?” Seungcheol frowns at Gongmyung, his hands atop the table, fingers tapping along the wooden grains.  

Gongmyung’s smile flickers as he turns to the colonel, “Then would it be better to be negligent of the possibility, the high possibility, that the loyalists are up to something again?” His question leaves little room for the colonel to answer before he begins speaking again, “It’s a lovely thought, thinking that we’re safe now, but we all know it’s not true.” His deflection of Seungcheol’s statement leaves a bitter taste in everyone’s mouths. 

“I agree that the loyalists need to be stopped, but to place our personal interest there instead of being directed to do so by the Crown or the council is…” Seungcheol trails off, clearly thinking more inwardly than he was expressing outwardly. 

“So, then, what should we do?” Another voice piques up, questioning Seungcheol. “Wait until the bastards are knocking at our door to actually do something about it? Or maybe wait until they’ve actually captured Munmu and have burned the palace to the gro-” 

“Dongyoung,” Gongmyung interjects, “Watch your mouth.” 

“My mistake,” Dongyoung scoffs after a moment of staring at his brother for interrupting him, “Couldn’t stop myself.” 

Kim Dongyoung is the younger brother of Kim Gongmyung by blood, and only by the same father. Dongyoung had joined the Hwarang with Gongmyung in autumn and had accompanied him to Seorabeol. 

“He has the tendency to run his mouth like a child still,” Gongmyung explains, “I apologize.” His attention then turns back to Seungcheol and away from his brother, “So, don’t take it too personally, please. I’m sure someone like you is needed to make the Hwarang successful. Even if your arm is unusable in a fight, your smarts and tactical abilities will prove all the more useful.” 

You see Seungcheol biting back a retort towards Gongmyung’s sour wording, the tension between the two only cut by another voice.  

“I don’t think I heard you correctly, Gongmyung.” It’s Jihoon, his voice low as if he’s trying to stabilize the tone so as to not sound angry. “Seungcheol is smart, as you said. He is not useless and not replaceable, make sure you don’t forget that.” The commander only speaks when there’s something important to be said, having spoken up now means that Gongmyung’s words must’ve gotten to him.  

“My arm, though…” Seungcheol mutters out, seemingly unable to finish the thought. Jihoon’s words remind him of what he once was, causing him to frown at the reality of it all. 

“I didn’t mean to cause such a disturbance,” Gongmyung sighs out with false sympathy, “I’ll be sure to keep my thoughts to myself next time. Seungcheol is quite a beloved member, I see, it’s nice to see such a tight knit group. I can only hope the new members share that sentiment.” 

Jihoon’s eyes seethe with anger as he glares at Gongmyung, but before he’s able to snip back, Youngmin steps in and tries to calm the air. 

“For now,” He begins, looking at each member of the opposing parties, “Let’s just keep matters on finding a new headquarter location. Gongmyung, would you mind coming with me? I’d love to continue our earlier conversation.” 

“Of course, Chief.” Gongmyung says and rises to his feet at the same time Youngmin does, the two begin to leave the room, quickly followed out by Kangjoon. 

“May I join you as well?” The latter asks before the two step out of the hall. 

“Of course,” Youngmin accepts, “I’d like you to hear what Gongmyung has to say, it may help you with strategy points.” 

“Thank you,” Kangjoon says with an appreciative smile as the three exit, shortly followed by Dongyoung who scoffs at the encounter before slinking out after them. 

“Who’s the asshole that invited them to join us?” Seungkwan frowns once the sound of their footsteps falls out of earshot. 

“That asshole’s still in Hanseong,” Junhui huffs, “When Soonyoung gets back I might just wring his neck.”

“The Kim’s father is friends with a few pro-military councilmen,” Mingyu muses, “Interesting to see that they’d join us if they share those same beliefs.” 

“They’re probably playing some sort of superiority game,” Jihoon says, his arms crossing over his chest. “Just listen to the bullshit that Dongyoung spouts off, and it looks like it’s rubbing off on Youngmin. And that’s definitely not good.”

“Youngmin’s always been like that,” Seungkwan adds, “Easily deceived by those who act nice and appear virtuous but are just vipers waiting for the right time to strike.”

“And Gongmyung’s the deputy commander with Dongyoung in a captain’s position,” Mingyu shakes his head, “They’ve rooted themselves deep.” 

Jihoon’s gaze travels to Seungcheol, who’s been staring at the patterns in the wood since his conversation with Gongmyung. “Don’t listen to him,” the commander says to him in hopes of cheering him up.  

“Gongmyung is a skilled orator with a proficient education to back it,” Seungcheol laughs dryly, “And not only that, but he’s also skilled with a sword and bow. With a gifted Deputy Commander, the Hwarang have little need for a colonel now.”

“Seungcheol-” Jihoon begins to protest as the colonel rises to his feet and starts to head for the exit. The commander’s voice trails after Seungcheol as he leaves quietly, no one daring to stop him. 

“Of all people…” Mingyu sighs out, crossing his arms as he leans back in his chair, “Even the wang-do are avoiding him now.” 

“Why?” You question and turn to the captain, “It’s not like he’s done anything wrong.”

“It’s his attitude,” Junhui responds in the elder’s stead, “It doesn't matter what you say to him, he takes it the wrong way regardless.” 

“Not to mention the smartass tone he’s been taking up,” a twisted frown settles onto Mingyu’s face, “it’s no wonder the men are scared shitless of him.” 

Their words confuse you, even though you haven’t been here as long as the other captains, Seungcheol was well liked among everyone in the Hwarang. After he’d received his injury, it seems as if that demeanor has taken a turn for the worse.  

“Can’t you come up with an excuse to get Gongmyung the hell out of here?” Seungkwan asks, turning towards Jihoon. “There’s barely been a moment of civility since he got here.” 

“You know I can’t do that,” Jihoon’s expression turns sour, “Youngmin’s all over the guy. Besides, he brought in a bunch of warriors from Hanseong, their allegiance doesn’t solely lie with us yet. They’ll pack up and leave the second we tell him to get lost.” 

“Fuck him though!” Seungkwan does little to quell the irateness of his voice, “You’re the goddamn demon commander, make the impossible happen!” 

Jihoon barks out a snarkish laugh, “Fine, Boo. How about I make you commander so you can kick Gongmyung and his thugs out?” 

“Hell no,” Seungkwan snickers, “That’s too much work.”

It eventually comes to fruition that Gongmyung isn’t to be trusted, having no other captains speak out on his behalf.  

You’re going around once more to distribute tea to the men when you stop by Hansol, who’d been quiet for most of, if not all, of the prior conversation. He looks up at you, as if he had felt your thoughts wander over to him.  

“What are your thoughts on Gongmyung joining?” You ask as he sets down his teacup onto the tabletop.  

Hansol sighs as you begin topping off the cup, “As any group begins to grow in numbers, it’ll have more and more people with differing opinions.” You pull the pot away from his cup, staunching the flow of the liquid, “Although, if one intends to be the catalyst for change instead of it occurring naturally, the group will begin to kill itself from the inside out.” His words hang heavy as you stand next to him, unsure of what to say next.  

Gongmyung’s acceptance into the Hwarang, from your perspective, wasn’t to tear them apart, but maybe to cause dissension among the members. You’re not fond of him, but his treatment towards Seungcheol and the colonel’s receptiveness to the critiques is what worries you the most. It’s not as if his arm would work again overnight, it would take a miracle to happen, and Seungcheol doesn’t seem like the type to frequent shamans.  

Sometime later you find yourself wandering back to your room, the meeting dissipating with little to be done with the newest arrivals. Although cold outside, the setting sun gives off little warmth as you trapeze yourself through one of the gardens. The reddish-maroon of the sinking star unsettling you. 

You still have Seungcheol in mind as you pause for a moment, staring up at the shifting hues of the heavens. A conversation you’d heard in the news of Seungcheol’s injury had spurred the conversation of the Furies as well as a serum. By the way they’d spoken of it, it made it seem as if the item was only used in dire circumstances, and it was highly secretive. You weren’t even supposed to know about it in the first place, but Soonyoung had let slip some information on it and now you can’t help but think about it. 

If you were to try and learn of it yourself, it’s no doubt that you’d find yourself in a world of trouble. Yet, you are the daughter of a physician, surely you have more medical knowledge than them? 

Falling onto your better judgment, you return to your quarters. Even if you’re worried about Seungcheol, you’re not sure that there’s much you can even do for him at this point.  

When the sun finally drops below the horizon, it seems as if Shoshin Temple bursts to life with activity. But the sounds aren’t boisterous, not the gaiety induced ones of the captains rough-housing, these were more ominous. You hear footsteps charge past your room, never seeming to cease as the men run off to an unknown location.  

Despite trying your best to keep out of it, your curiosity overtakes you, amalgamating in you slowly creeping out into the hall and following the sound of the commotion. The sounds take you to the main hall, the door left ajar so you quietly make your way inside. 

“To think that Seungcheol would’ve…” You can hear Youngmin’s voice, a seriousness in it as he comes into view. Jihoon and the other captains stand around him, each looking to be in a different stage of shock or disbelief. 

“What the hell were you all doing?!” Jihoon shouts out towards the other captains, his grief seeming to take shape in the form of unbridled anger, “I told you to watch out for Seungcheol! Was there some fucking part of that that you didn’t understand?” 

“You can’t blame us for this,” Junhui retorts defensively, “Who would’ve thought that he’d drink that shit? He was also in charge of that stuff so how were we supposed to know he had it?” 

“If he’d hidden it in a vial we wouldn’t have known,” Mingyu adds, glancing from Junhui to Jihoon, “And suppose that it does treat his arm… Everyone who took it went crazy. It didn’t work.” 

The serum… is that what the captains are referring to? You don’t have enough context on the situation to understand fully, but has Seungcheol taken whatever it is? 

“Seungcheol had been trying to improve it,” Hansol interjects, “He’d hoped his arm would heal before it deteriorated too much… Maybe he felt as if there wasn’t any other way. Regardless of that, when he realized his failure he ignored Seungkwan and tried to kill himself.”

“Kill himself?” You gasp aloud, momentarily forgetting that you aren’t supposed to be here. Slowly, all eyes shift to you, Jihoon’s gaze quickly meeting yours. 

“What are you doing here?” He asks and suddenly you’re unable to speak. His gaze holds an iciness that causes your throat to clam up, restricting any words that are trying to form. It’s the same way you felt upon entering Shoshin the first time, a mixture of anxiousness, suspicion and animosity.  

“Jihoon,” Youngmin says, his hand moving to rest on the commander’s forearm, “I think it’s time you tell her what’s going on. She is Heo’s daughter, after all.” 

Your eyes grow wide at the mention of your father’s name. Why is he being brought up all of a sudden? 

“I’m going to make this clear,” the commander stares at Youngmin with a grimace, looking back to you after a moment and sighing out lengthily, “The Hwarang don’t need you. There’s a chance that you’ll help us find Heo, but even without you, we’ll find him one way or another. Do anything strange and we’ll have you killed.” Your limbs feel frozen in place as he speaks, you’re able to stutter out an ‘Okay’ before he continues. “I’m going to tell you what’s happening here, but keep in mind that if you tell anyone else about it other than those that are in this room: it’s your own head.” 

“Are you… going to kill me?” 

“Not yet, but don’t think that means you’re free to run off.” 

“We never told you why your father was here in the first place,” Youngmin steps in, allowing you to break your gaze with Jihoon. “He was developing a… treatment of sorts.” 

“Like the one Seungcheol took?” Words forming on your lips, testing out how shocked you sound.  

The leader of the Hwarang nods solemnly, breathing in deeply before responding, “We first learned of it when one of the Crown’s men brought it to us. They told us it was obtained through trades with merchants in Tang.” 

The curiosity of it all, as dreadful it may be, swirls inside of you. Culminating into something you’re not sure you have the words to describe.  

“A foreign drug said to augment a man’s healing and bolster their strength,” Hansol sighs out, “Anyone who drank their fill would, supposedly, be able to fight off a guhin with no issue.” His voice serious, despite having alluded to a mythical beast, “Any of their injuries would heal almost immediately, unless they were decapitated or pierced through the heart.

This all sounds like something your father would’ve told you as a child to fuel your imagination, not something that was feasible now. 

“Yet, that power comes at a price. It spirals whoever drinks it into an unreturnable madness, they seek out human blood to satisfy their hunger instead of food or drink.” Hansol continues, looking at you with a wary gaze, Heo took it upon himself to try it out on some of the Hwarang so that an attempt to perfect the serum could be worked on. 

“My father?” You’re not sure how surprised you sound, something within you twinges but it’s probably the knowledge somewhere deep inside that you knew your father is connected to all of this. Yet knowing that he was using his skills to try and work on this… serum, makes a pit begin to form in your stomach. “So that night where you all found me...”

“We keep the men who’ve taken it to a temple just outside of Seorabeol, if they were kept here people would’ve become suspicious,” The explanation doesn’t tell you how you’d come to find them, but you can infer that they’d probably escaped. “As long as they don’t get any blood they stay relatively quiet.” With the way Hansol relays the information, it makes it seem as this is just a nonchalant topic for him, and it may have very well been. But to you, it’s alien but helps you put together a few things you’d been wondering since your arrival here.  

“Are you okay?” Mingyu asks, a tinge of concern to his voice, “You don’t look great.” He stops himself, scoffing inwardly before continuing, “Of course you’re not, this information would sicken anyone.”

“I think we’ve told her enough,” Jihoon interjects before Mingyu can continue, “We need to think about what to do with Seungcheol.”

“I guess…” Junhui frowns, crossing his arms, “But he was practically dead when Eunseok took him out of here.”

“This was a new draught of that shit, though,” Jihoon sounds as if he’s trying to contain himself, to keep his hopefulness on the floor, “we don’t know if the effects are any different from the last batch. And if it’s supposed to do what it's meant to, then that cut isn’t going to kill him.” His eyes flicker to the leader, “Youngmin, can you watch over him? I know Eunseok’s taking care of him but he’s just a kid and I don’t think that-” A pause as he catches himself fretting, he gives himself a second to straighten up, “Tonight will tell us if he’s meant to live or die, and whether he’ll be sane or not by the end of it.”

“Of course, isn’t Seungkwan with him as well?” Youngmin asks before he turns on his heels and heads towards the door.

“He’s guarding the room,” A curt response from Jihoon before Youngmin nods and exits the main hall, the sound of his footsteps dying down after a moment.

“I want you to keep everyone away from the captain’s wing,” Jihoon looks towards Mingyu, a frown dancing on his lips, “Especially Gongmyung’s men.”

“I know,” Mingyu huffs looking to where Youngmin had exited.

“Junhui, go and check on Hwangnyongsa.”

Another order from Jihoon, Junhui nods wordlessly and begins to head towards the main exit of the headquarters. As he passes, you see a glint of the same hostility he’d held towards you on the night of your first arrival. It’s tense and suspicious of you, an itch of gooseflesh overcoming you as he walks out into the night.

“Hansol, go to the inner courtyard, if the Kim brothers or their men show up, keep them busy,” And before Hansol’s even left the room, Jihoon’s gaze settles on you. “I want you to stay with one of the captains.” His concern stems not for the care of your well-being, that much is evident in his gaze, but more to the fact that tonight isn’t a good night to be wandering around alone.

“I’d stay away from Hwangnyongsa, they get rowdy at night,” Mingyu notes, his teeth biting at his cheek.

You nod, thankful for the suggestion, but even with his warning, you’d be limited in where you could go.

“I think I’ll stay here,” you assert to the remaining men, nodding to yourself that this is probably the safest place you could remain within the compound.

It doesn’t take long for Hansol and Mingyu to take their leave, heading for their respective locations around the headquarters before you’re left alone with the commander.

The main hall feels suffocating, mostly from Jihoon’s quietness and the thoughts of what had transpired here merely an hour beforehand. Your gaze shifts from looking out of the main entrance to the commander, his brow furrowing and eyes looking sullen. It’s easy to see that the events of tonight are eating away at him, his concern for his second-in-command utterly gnawing at his very being. His eyes close and he lets out a quiet sigh before speaking again,

“You might think you know who Seungcheol is, but this… It’s not really who he is. He’s an intelligent man who is more than just a sword. The colonel sees the full picture rather than what lies duly in front of him.” Another sigh as if he’s reminiscing, “His guidance helped me through a lot more than I’d like to credit, but his words were always more commandeering than his blade. In a way he was more powerful than me, without him, the Hwarang would’ve regressed to the likes of the Wonhwa.” A subtle smile curling on his lips, “He was like my big brother.” Hands balling into fists atop the table, there is a sincerity that drips from his words bitterly.

“He must mean a lot to you,” you say softly, your own hands falling into your lap, your back hitting the back of the chair as you lean.

“It sounds a little childlike when you say it aloud,” the absinthian smile still clinging to him. He sits, probably thinking the worst outcome for his longtime friend, reminiscing on their past and contemplating what it may mean for the future. Jihoon’s position leaves him unable to divulge this with most others, yet by sharing them with you, he can hold off on the truth for a while longer.

“The only reason we didn’t get rid of that serum is because we thought we could heal his arm with it somehow… Because I thought we could heal him,” the smile fades away, replaced with a grimace. “I should’ve seen this coming.” His own hands fall away from the tabletop and to his sides, a relent in the tension building in his shoulders, “We need Seungcheol. We can’t lose him.”

An anguish coming over him due to the morality of his friend. It’s hard to watch, and you’re nowhere near close enough to him to offer him substantial comfort or advice.

“It’ll be okay,” quiet words leaving you as you straighten up in your chair, his gaze flickering over to you.  

“Do you have anything to back that statement up?”

“Back in Toehwa-hyeon, I saw my father treat a lot of people. Most of them believed that they’d recover, and my dad said it was because they had a strong heart,” you say slowly, trying to space out your words coherently. “Seungcheol never seemed like the type to give up fully, and if we all think that he’ll recover then…”

Jihoon lets out a small laugh with a smile and shakes his head, “The Commander of the Hwarang being cheered up by a physician’s daughter. Who could’ve ever imagined this?” A spark igniting in his eyes, returning to the glowing embers and eventual blaze that he so often carries. “You’re right, though. Seungcheol drank the medicine with the intent of getting better and fixing his arm, we just have to believe that he’ll recover.” 

𝔉𝔢𝔟𝔯𝔲𝔞𝔯𝔶 7, 662 – 𝔖𝔥𝔬𝔰𝔥𝔦𝔫 𝔗𝔢𝔪𝔭𝔩𝔢, 𝔎𝔦𝔫𝔤𝔡𝔬𝔪 𝔬𝔣 𝔖𝔦𝔩𝔩𝔞 The night breaks into dawn long after you've retired to your room. A clattering of noise and the rise of voices rouse you from slumber and pull you back to the main hall. Upon entering, you find that the captains have gathered, each in conversation with one another. This scene isn’t interrupted until Eunseok enters. 

“It seems as if the hardest part for him is over,” The youngest nods, a collective ball of tension in the room dissipating instantly. 

“How is he?” Mingyu asks, looking to Eunseok. 

“Still asleep,” he nods, “he was in and out of consciousness the entire night, but he looks peaceful now.”

“Has he gone crazy like the others?” Junhui’s question is blunt as he blurts it out into the space. 

Eunseok shakes his head in the negative, “Not seemingly. But we won’t know until he wakes up. But as for now, he looks as he always has.”

Before another captain is able to ask Eunseok of Seungcheol’s status, the doors open and Gongmyung strides into the room.

“Good morning everyone,” A cheap smile painted on his face, “How are you?”

You can hear Junhui let out a soft, “Fuck,” at the sight of him. 

Gongmyung scans the faces of the captains after their muffled hellos, “You all look… gloomy.” 

“Isn’t it obvious that it’s because we’ve got to see your beautiful face every morning?” Junhui bites with a snicker. 

“What a… cute response,” Gongmyung’s quick to brush away the insult as he turns to the other captains. “Is the reason you all look so down because of what happened last night?”

“Ah, actually,” Youngmin begins, fumbling over his words. His gaze hops from captain to captain, looking for someone to relieve him of trying to offer an excuse to Gongmyung. 

“Jae,” Junhui’s elbow finds the older’s side as he whispers, “make something up!”

“You see,” Mingyu says after a moment, he too, stumbling over his words, “Well… Uh, yesterday…” 

“Didn’t you say you used to act for the nobles in your village?” Seungkwan scoffs at him quietly, “Be quiet and let someone else do the talking.” You think he’s talking about himself, but instead of speaking up, Seungkwan looks to Hansol, who begins speaking almost immediately. 

“As you may have heard, an incident occurred last night at the headquarters,” voice plain as he speaks to the Deputy Commander, “We have yet to gain full knowledge on the situation. If we were to make a statement now, it is a risk of polluting fact with falsities. Later this afternoon I’m sure we’ll be able to provide a much more detailed report.” 

“Hmm,” Gongmyung mulls over Hansol’s statement for a moment, “I’ll look forward to hearing all about what happened later this evening, then. For now, I’ll return to my men.” He waves everyone on his way out, a strange smile cutting across his face before he exits. 

“That was easier than it should’ve been,” Seungkwan huffs, watching the door close with a soft slam.

“What do you mean?” You ask, attention turning from the door and to Seungkwan.

“Gongmyung isn’t stupid, unfortunately,” Jihoon frowns and looks at you, “We shouldn’t have let him in here. The only person missing from our ranks is Seungcheol, it’s not going to take him long to realize that something’s happened to him.” 

The Deputy Commander had most likely suspected what had occurred but decided to not press the issue. Before you can think on it for too long, the door opens once more and Choi Seungcheol shuffles in.

A small laugh as he looks at them, his voice sounding a little weak, “Come on, it’s not like I’m some kind of monster.”

Eunseok rushes to him, offering assistance to stand but is waved away by the Colonel, “You should be resting, are you okay being up like this?”

“I’m tired… sore… but I suppose that’s a side effect of my new condition,” Seungcheol’s brow furrows slightly as he looks down to his hand, “Those who’ve taken the serum have found it difficult to do work in the daylight.” His face is a bit pallid, but with the way he stands and moves, it doesn’t seem like he’s hindered all too much. “I’m no longer human,” the words echoing around the room with a chilling effect. Each and every captain fell silent to them.

“Who cares about what you are?” Youngmin speaks up after a moment and steps towards Seungcheol with a bright smile, trying to lighten the mood, “All that matters is that you’re alive.”

“How’s your arm? Healed?” Seungkwan questions, looking down to the colonel’s once bandaged limb. 

“I don’t think I’ve fully recovered yet,” Seungcheol notes, flexing his fingers at his side, “It seems to have healed for the most part.” 

Despite the disturbance and subsequent chaos of the night prior, it seems like Seungcheol’s wish to use his arm again had come true. 

“You can’t go out in the sunlight though, right?” Mingyu asks, voice concerned, and his brow furrowed, “Will you still be able to fight with us?”

Seungcheol nods, slowly moving his head as if he’s mulling over a thought he’d been holding in for some time. “I think you should tell everyone I died.”

“What!?” Junhui shouts out, unable to hold in the burst of confusion. “The fuck are you on about?”

“I should serve in the Corps from now on. It’ll show them, and even more so, us, that success isn’t some far off dream.” Seungcheol says, looking at the frazzled captain. 

“Have you lost your goddamn mind Seungcheol?” Junhui’s voice shakes with every word, “Do you know what you’re saying?”

“Of course, I do,” Seungcheol frowns, “The Crown has ordered us to keep the serum a secret, and if I,” a small hum as he postulates his next word, “die, that secret remains so. Researching in secret will give me more ability to track side effects and even give me the potential to remove them. What reason do we have for me not to if we’re going to use it?” 

The movements of the captains easily show that they’re against Seungcheol’s idea, although no one but Junhui has said anything against it. None of them wish to banish their friend to a life of hiding and secrecy. 

“We were given this task by the late King himself, carried on by his son…” Youngmin trails off, “This may be our only choice.”  

“This is what you asked for, isn’t it Seungcheol?” Seungkwan shoots him a look, “You’ve always been the type to take things into your own hands so I can’t fault you for that.” 

“Sometimes I think you know me too well,” the colonel chuckles.

Jihoon, who’s stayed silent for a majority of the conversation, scoffs at the remark. “This means moving the Hwarang to a new location can’t wait any longer. If we’re going to hide Seungcheol from Gongmyung and his crowd, Shoshin wouldn’t allow us to do that easily.” 

“You’re right,” Hansol affirms, “If the Colonel intends to begin researching again, then we’ll have to expedite our move.” 

A nod from the commander as he turns to face the captains in full, “Even though none of you slept well, we need to get to work.” He looks to you, “You should get some rest, I know you didn’t sleep well either.” 

You want to stay and help them, but with how fatigued you are from staying up so late you can only nod your head at him before quickly shuffling back to your room. 

The same thoughts that had plagued you last night as you tried to fall asleep plague you as you now lie on your bedding. Your father’s work… Are you safe under their pretext of safety still? Thoughts still buzzing around your head as you eventually find yourself drifting off into a dreamless slumber. 

𝔍𝔲𝔫𝔢 4𝔱𝔥, 662 – 𝔅𝔲𝔩𝔤𝔲𝔨𝔰𝔞 𝔗𝔢𝔪𝔭𝔩𝔢, 𝔎𝔦𝔫𝔤𝔡𝔬𝔪 𝔬𝔣 𝔖𝔦𝔩𝔩𝔞 Bulguksa Temple has proven a better headquarters than that of Shoshin Temple, you’d come to this conclusion in the subsequent weeks of your arrival in March of this year. There’s much more room for the men to freely roam and train, and the view was even more astonishing than the last. The only downfall is the longer trek to the city of Seorabeol itself. On some days you still find yourself lost on the winding paths to the temple, but for the most part you can guide yourself around with little assistance from the monks who reside there.

On this particular day, you find yourself wandering the seemingly endless grounds for the Hwarang’s colonel. When you think you spot him standing in one of the shaded courtyards of the temple’s grounds you shout out to him.

“There you are, Colonel,” You call out, a tray held tightly in your grasp. The sun hangs in the sky above you, a slight burn beginning to burgeon on your clothed shoulders as you approach. “I’ve brought you your lunch.”

“Oh, hello,” he turns to you with a smile and beckons you closer, “Thank you.” A bird chirps in the branches of the tree above him, you look up to find the small creature before returning your gaze to him. You offer him a smile before extending out the tray to him. 

“It’s really gotten warm lately, hasn’t it?” You note, stepping into the shade once he’d taken the tray. Fingers rising to your shoulders to feel the heat of the sun that had soaked into the fabric. 

“It has,” he nods, moving to set the tray down on a stump beside him, “Although the increased sunshine has been more disagreeable than the warmth.”

“Ah, is it?” The sun doesn’t feel but so harsh on you, but the heat that swells around the compound has been making you sweat since the sun broke over the horizon. Yet, to Seungcheol his disposition probably found the light unbearable from his days in the shadows.

Sometimes it feels unreal to call Seungcheol dead, the night where he’d taken that serum to transform him into a creature lustful for blood, feeling more so like a dream whenever you recall it. As he stands before you now, you can hardly imagine it.

A light breeze wafts through the greenery around you, parting enough leaves in the tree from a few beams of sunlight to fall onto Seungcheol. For a moment, his hair turns a silvery white and his eyes seem to turn a deep crimson.

Your eyes widen and you take a step back, unsure if it were a trick of the light or your own imagination. 

“Is something wrong?” He asks, his hair now normal and his eyes once again brown. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost, and I know I’m not at that point yet.” Maybe you had imagined it.

𝔍𝔲𝔫𝔢 6𝔱𝔥, 662 – 𝔖𝔢𝔬𝔯𝔞𝔟𝔢𝔬𝔩, 𝔎𝔦𝔫𝔤𝔡𝔬𝔪 𝔬𝔣 𝔖𝔦𝔩𝔩𝔞 Soonyoung had asked you to accompany him on his rounds this morning with an excitedness in his voice that would’ve been hard to turn down. So, now you find yourself briskly walking with him through the crowded streets, the blues of his robes shining brilliantly in the midday sky. 

“It’s been a while since you’ve asked me to come on patrol with you,” You note as you pass a vendor selling sickeningly sweet treats. 

“I know, right? Hanseong kept me pretty busy.” He sighs out, having only just returned from his trip to the northern city just a few weeks ago. “Junhui and Mingyu didn’t mess with you when I was gone, did they? How was it when I was away?”

“Everything was fine, and they didn’t bother me,” You assure him with a small smile. 

“That’s good,” He returns the smile as you continue to walk. “Any updates on Heo though? Did you find any leads?”

“No,” the smile from your lips quickly leaving. 

“I see…” His own smile quickly disappears as he watches you, “I stopped by his place with the information you gave me but… It didn’t seem as if anyone had returned.” The somberness of the male begins to transfer to you, a feeling of hopelessness beginning to overtake you momentarily. 

“Thank you for taking the time to check for me, I know Toehwa-hyeon isn’t on the direct path back.”

“Don’t thank me for that,” He waves you off, “The fact that you can’t freely come and go as you please is completely the Hwarang’s faul—” 

“Soonyoung?” You question as he’d stopped himself mid-sentence. He’d looked glum ever since his return from Hanseong. “How about you, though? I know it’s been a while since you’ve been back in Seorabeol.” 

“I do feel like the city’s changed, the people too,” he muses, glancing at the faces that pass by. There’s a solemness to his tone that wasn’t typically there in conversations you’d had with him prior, had something happened in Hanseong? Before you can question him on it, his head jerks to look above the crowd, standing on his toes and waving to someone across the way.

“Find anything over there, Seungkwan?!” He shouts out above the clamor of the street. 

“Nope,” the older replies as he saunters over, “Nothing out of order here.” Seungkwan is out for patrol too, but his route takes him through a different path through the city. “Normal for now, at least. Things will change once the king comes back from his family villa. Rumor has it that he’s going to address the Hwarang.”

“Is he really?” You question, brow raising in surprise.

“Yep, it’s got Youngmin all flustered,” Seungkwan chuckles, “Our dear leader really respects the Crown, as well all have to, I guess.”

“I see,” you nod, “I hope it actually happens, then, right, Soonyoung?”

Soonyoung looks lost in thought before he hears his name, stumbling out his words as he responds, “Ah, yeah, right.” 

You look to Seungkwan to see if he’s caught on to the other’s oddness. But he’s stifling his mouth with his hand, coughing into it. 

“Are you alright?” You question him as his hand falls away from his mouth.

“I’m okay,” he waves you off, “I probably just caught a cold from patrolling late one night or something.” 

“Well, try to take care of yourself,” a sigh leaving you. As strong and intelligent as the men were, they hardly ever took care of their basic needs, “I have some cold medicine back at the headquarters, I’ll give you some.” 

“Thanks,” Seungkwan smiles, “I guess it is good to have you around at times.” Something catches his attention, and he breaks his gaze away from you and into the crowds of the street.

“Is something wrong?”

“What do you mean ‘no’?” A voice rings out and you follow it to see a man holding the wrist of a woman trying to get away from him. 

“Let go of me!” She cries out, trying to pull herself away from his grip.

“We’re soldiers of this great kingdom, fighting hard every day to kick these loyalists’ asses! You owe us some drinks, and maybe even a little company.” The man says, and it’s then you realize it isn’t just him, but two other presumed soldiers are harassing this woman. 

“Are you guys seeing this?” You question the two captains.

“Yeah,” Soonyoung frowns, “Stay here.”

Yet, before Soonyoung could step forward, Seungkwan seems to be several steps ahead, reaching the group already.

“Soldiers don’t seem to be what they used to,” he tuts, “throwing that rank aloud doesn’t mean you’re owed anything.” The crowds coming to watch the scene shuffle away from Seungkwan as he hovers his hand on his blade, glaring at the men. As the harassers catch the blues of the Hwarang’s robes they seem to stiffen. 

“You’re a Hwarang, aren’t you?” One of them asks, furrowing their brow.

“And you must be the smartest one out of these men,” Seungkwan’s tone is condescending as his hand now rests on the hilt of his sword. “Now, what’s it going to be?” A snide, predatory smile as he grips the hilt, no happiness deriving from the grin as the soldier’s faces pale. 

“Why don’t you leave us alone? This doesn’t involve you.” The one presumed to be their ringleader remarks. 

“If you really want to get out of here unscathed, you should probably follow your own advice,” Soonyoung scoffs, now saddling up beside Seungkwan. 

The sight of two Hwarang seems enough to deter the men from their endeavor. Their faces draining of color before they scamper off like scolded dogs. 

“If they’re just gonna run off like that when they see us they shouldn’t have tried to start anything in the first place,” Soonyoung sighs, watching them disappear into the crowds. 

“Aren’t you going to go after them?” You ask, looking at them as you walk over.

“And charge them with what?” Seungkwan questions, retracting his hand away from his blade and crossing his arms, “Didn’t think you were the iron fist kind of person.”

Before you can protest that that’s not what you meant, the woman whom the two Hwarang had intervened for speaks up, “Thank you for saving me.” She gives both Seungkwan and Soonyoung a bow, more grace in her movements than you could ever hope to have. Even if you dressed like a girl you’re not sure you’d even come close. 

Seungkwan’s hand lands on your shoulder before you’re able to feel any sorrier for yourself. “Seungkwan?” You question as he pulls you forward to stand next to the girl.

“Just go with it,” he says and steps away from the two of you, his hand under his chin as he looks over both of you. You smile softly at the girl, embarrassed as to what the Hwarang is making you do. She returns the smile, beautiful on the outside but there is something almost… strange about it. 

“Just as I thought,” Seungkwan nods, “They look just like each other.” 

And then it hits you, the girl standing before you looks just as you do whenever you catch a glimpse of yourself in the mirrors dotting the headquarters. 

“Really?” Soonyoung questions, tilting his head at the two of you, “I don’t think they look alike at all, Boo.”

“Dress ‘em up like a girl and you wouldn’t be able to tell the difference,” Seungkwan insists.

“Captain Boo…” The woman says, looking at you, “She seems troubled.” 

She? Had the woman caught on to you so soon? Stuck in your thoughts she smiles at you once more, “I want to thank all of you properly, but I’m afraid that I’m in the middle of something important. My name is Ahro, I hope I’ll be able to repay you soon, Captain Boo.”

And with that she too disappears like a wisp into the crowds of Seorabeol, the strangeness of her presence lingering long after she’s left.

“It looks like she likes you, Seungkwan!” Soonyoung nudges the elder with his elbow.

“Is that really what you think, Soonyoung?” The other laughs, “You’ve got a long way to go before you’re at Junhui’s prowess levels.” 

“What’s that supposed to mean!?” Soonyoung shouts at the other, clearly offended by the remark. 

Their bickering fades away as you look to a puddle on the ground left from the rain the night prior. Looking into it now you see the resemblance that you and that woman had had. “Ahro…” You hum as a gust of wind causes the water to ripple and distort your figure. 

“Let’s get going!” Soonyoung calls, now further down the street as he’d begun walking back to Bulguksa.

“Coming!” You shout out to him as you look up from the puddle and begin to chase after him. 

𝔍𝔲𝔫𝔢 11𝔱𝔥, 662 – 𝔅𝔲𝔩𝔤𝔲𝔨𝔰𝔞 𝔗𝔢𝔪𝔭𝔩𝔢, 𝔎𝔦𝔫𝔤𝔡𝔬𝔪 𝔬𝔣 𝔖𝔦𝔩𝔩𝔞 The main hall of this temple is open enough so that most, if not all, of the Seorabeol Hwarang can fit inside of it with ample room to spare. It’s a little strange to see all of these faces in one place, seeing as at Shoshin, only the captains and a few other members took priority of occupying the main hall. Yet, as Kwak Youngmin stands proudly in front of his men, any thoughts of the prior location escape your mind.

“By now it’s probably not our best kept secret, but King Munmu has asked us to act as his guard as he returns from his family’s villa to Banweolseong.” Youngmin beams excitedly as the hall begins to erupt in chatter.

“Guard him?” Junhui looks shocked as he turns towards Mingyu, “What’s that about?”

“I don’t know,” he shakes his head in disbelief, “I thought we were just going to get the usual ‘Keep up the good work’ spiel.” 

“Our work at Wonweol and Ongsan must’ve gotten through to them,” Jihoon nods, a hidden smile pulling at his lips. 

“The leadership of Silla resting on us,” Seungkwan muses almost gleefully, “That’s big.”

“Exactly right,” Jihoon agrees, “We’ve got to do beyond our best for this.”

On the opposite end of the hall, you can hear Suh Kangjoon speak up, “Guarding the king… That’s quite the promotion for us.”

“It truly is,” Gongmyung notes with a sigh, “If only Seungcheol were alive to see it. He would’ve been overjoyed.” Another lamenting breath tiptoeing on faux sympathy, “To have lost such an ally…” 

Kim Gongmyung and all of his followers had been told of the colonel’s passing. Actually, the incident surrounding Seungcheol’s transformation had been hidden, only a few of the Hwarang knew the reality of the situation. 

“I think doing our best to serve and protect the king is what Seungcheol would’ve wanted,” Youngmin interjects himself into their conversation. 

“Yes,” Gongmyung nods, “Of course. This is an excellent opportunity for us to gain favor with the masses.”

“We ought to assign roles at this point. I’d like Jihoon, Seungkwan, and myself to—” Youngmin begins before being cut off by Jihoon.

“Sorry Kwak, but do you think Boo can sit this one out?” The commander’s arms cross over his chest as he glances towards the third party. 

“Why’s that?” Youngmin questions, confusion sweeping his features.  

“His cold hasn’t recovered fully. And despite me telling him to take care of himself, he neglects to do so,” He sighs out, looking back towards Youngmin. 

“Is this true, Seungkwan?” Youngmin looks at the swordsman, “Are you alright?”

“Lee’s just babying me again,” Seungkwan says with a dismissive gesture, “I think I’m alright.”

“Don’t give me that shit,” Jihoon frowns, “You nearly coughed up a lung earlier.” 

“Are you trying to sell me medicine?” He scoffs, crossing his arms with a frown, “There’s no way in hell I’m taking what your mother’s doctor prescribed anymore. It tastes like persimmons.”

“That’s not what I’m trying to—” a frustrated grunt from the commander, “Just do what I say, for once.”

You recall giving Seungkwan medicine some time ago after he’d been coughing while out on patrol, had it not helped him? It could be dust particles in the air, you know that the buildup of dust in the temple caused you to sneeze incessantly some mornings. 

From the corner of your periphery, you see someone raise their hand. 

“Is something wrong, Soonyoung?” Youngmin asks, having seen the younger calling for attention. 

“I’m uh, I’m not feeling so great either,” Soonyoung frowns, his eyes looking panicked. 

“You too?” Youngmin hums in defeat, “You should try and take care of yourself. I was hoping we could all go and guard the king.”

“I’m sorry,” Soonyoung bows his head in apology. 

“No, no, don’t worry about it. Your health comes first, always!” Youngmin tries to brighten his tone to detract from the now somber mood. “I’m sure we’ll have another chance to do something great together!”

Jihoon and Youngmin continue discussing the precession that’s to take place, when suddenly, the commander turns to you.

“What’re you going to do?” Jihoon asks, an eyebrow raised as he poises the question. 

“What do you mean?” You say as you look to him, “Are you asking if I want to go with you?”

“I am,” He nods and after a moment of silence asks, “Are you?” 

“Is that really okay?”

“Of course it is!” Youngmin smiles, “We won’t mind. Besides, you’re practically one of us, I’d love for you to accompany us.” 

Another moment of hesitation before Seungkwan laughs aloud, “Why don’t you go? It seems a lot safer than what happened at Wonweol and Ongsan.”

“Yeah,” Soonyoung nods, “I can’t imagine any loyalists would try to do anything when the king’ll be so heavily guarded.” 

“I’ll go, then,” you nod firmly towards the commander. 

“Alright,” Jihoon nods back with a small smile, “I thought we’d give you the job of running messages when needed. It’s not going to be the easiest job but I figure you can do it.”

Later that day you and the able captains and Hwarang left Seorabeol. Traveling about an hour or two outside of the city as you wait for the king’s caravan to greet you in a small village that you can’t remember the name of. You never actually saw the king, but you follow the Hwarang back to Seorabeol, arriving at the gates of the city just as the sun dips below the horizon. The walk through the city is brisk, and in no time the caravan disbands and you and a few other Hwarang stand outside the palace gates. By now, Youngmin, Junhui and Gongmyung are probably greeting officials and other important members of the king’s retinue. 

You shift on your feet for a moment, the sole aching slightly from the trek earlier, but you have a job to do. Jihoon had tasked you to tell the Hwarang when to change their shift and to carry any important messages when needed. It’s something of a glorified page position, but it’s not an entirely useless role… probably. 

“You’re the messenger?” A voice says as you approach them, “This isn’t a vacation, you know.”

“I’m not here to relax, Dongyoung,” you sigh as you stand before him.

“Is that right? Then why did we take someone here who can’t even use a sword?” Dongyoung scoffs, the light from a nearby brazier flickering across the sneer on his face.

“I’m here to do what I can,” You state firmly before beginning to relay your message. “The Chief is currently paying his respects to members of the court, everyone else should continue guarding.” 

“Message understood,” he says flippantly, causing you to look confused with how he didn’t retort on it. “What? Surprised I actually listened to you?”

“Oh no—I just—” 

“It’s a job,” He frowns, “It’s not personal. Now you’ve delivered your message, get going.”

You don’t ever speak much to Dongyoung, mostly on account of his brother being Gongmyung, but maybe he’s more responsible than you thought him to be. 

After he shoos you away, you continue to make your rounds, delivering messages to the Hwarang stationed around the castle. They’re easy to spot, wearing their white robes instead of their normal blues. They seem laxer now, maybe because the loyalists had been driven out of the capital for the most part, the Baekje revivalists fleeing back to the territory of the old kingdom. 

As you think that, and begin to approach another member of the Hwarang some distance away, your blood runs cold. A prick of gooseflesh running along your spine as your heartbeat reaches your ears. You can taste the blood in the air, looking around the trees encasing the palace and finding nothing. It’s not until you look at the castle walls and the walkway situated on top of it, does your stomach sink. Three figures jump down from the wall, landing on the dirt ground with a cloud of gritty dust.

“You’ve found us, then,” A familiar voice sighs out as they turn to you, stating your name somewhat cooly. The figure, flanked by two others, is haloed in the moonlight as you squint your eyes to try and get a better look at his face. “Not too slow.” Their piercing gaze fires into you, the name ‘Hong Jisoo’ battering through your mind as you remember the distinctive voice and way he carries himself. The last you’d seen him had been at Ongsan, and you face him now with much more dread than you’d had that day.

The two figures beside him must be Hwan Minhyun and Xu Minghao, the people whom other Hwarang had encountered during the battle at the fortress. You know they have ties with the inner court and had tried to stop the Hwarang’s efforts during the battle at Wonweol and Ongsan.

“Why are you here?” You question, trying to keep your voice steady.

“You mean ‘how’ did we get here, don’t you?” the one on Jisoo’s left, questions. “Man made obstacles are meaningless to a Demon.”

“We’re here for only one reason: you.” The other speaks up, crossing his arms. 

“Me?” You take a step back, the pounding of your heart unrelenting as you stare at them. “I don’t understand.” How do they know your name? “What do you mean by Demon? Is this some kind of joke?”

Jisoo scoffs, “You of all people are asking that? Maybe you’re the one who’s joking.” He steps forward, toward you, the shadows seeming to cling to his robes as he walks. 

When the man you now presume to be Minhyun speaks, it’s soft, almost caring in a way, “When you’re injured, do you heal quickly?” Your breath catches in your throat as he continues, “You heal faster than anyone around you, right?” 

This knowledge about you is unknown to almost everyone except for you and your father… How do they know this? 

You’re about to try and pull yourself together to defend yourself from the accusations when the other man, Minghao speaks up. “Wouldn’t it be better to just give her a demonstration?” His hand begins to reach for the quiver on his back before Jisoo speaks up.

“Minghao, do you really think I’d let you hurt a female Demon?” His voice slightly agitated as he glanced at the other. 

“Don’t tell me what to do, Hong.” He scoffs, “She’s being stubborn, what do you suggest we do?” 

Jisoo breaks his glare, only for his eyes to settle on the blade at your hip. “Her family’s name is a demon’s, she carries the Demon of Taebaeksan’s blade. Isn’t that enough evidence?” 

“My… name?” What’s wrong with ‘Heo’? His narrative, largely unknown to you, is cause enough for you to continue to panic. 

“Then again, it’s not like we need your permission to kidnap you,” Jisoo muses, looking at you with a frown, “Come with us or we’ll have to take you instead.” His hand outstretches towards you like a lure trying to bait in a fish. You step back, away from him, when you feel two figures brush past you. 

“Woah there,” Mingyu says as he stops, feet hitting the ground as his hand reaches for and pulls out his sword, “This really isn’t the place to try and pick up a woman.”

“You again?” Jisoo asks as he steps back, a sneer on his lips, “For a noble you really do like to keep it simple.”

“The same could be said to you,” Hansol says to him, also reaching for his blade. He looks back to you, “When we heard you hadn’t given your messages out on time we came to look for you.”

You nod and step back once more, your legs becoming unsteady as if the adrenaline that had been coursing through you suddenly left you at once. A hand catches you before you fall, pulling you further away from the skirmish.

“Stay back here,” Jihoon says sternly, looking towards the trio of assailants. His hand guides you to his side before he lets go of you, reaching for his blade. “I thought you’d be here for the king,” He says to Jisoo, “What do you want with my page?” 

“I don’t have any interest in you or this kingdom right now,” Jisoo says, looking past the commander and at you, “This matter only concerns us Demons.” 

“Demons?” Jihoon scoffs, narrowing his eyes at the foe. He seems confused by the statement, perhaps hoping there’d be a more coherent and understandable reason for Jisoo’s presence. 

“Haven’t seen you since Ongsan,” Minghao notes, looking over to Mingyu and Hansol.

“Looks like it’s fate,” Mingyu huffs out, “not that I’m particularly happy about it.” 

“I don’t feel great about this reunion either,” Hansol sighs and pulls out his sword, Mingyu following suit. 

The tension lays thick in the air, settling into your throat so that you find it hard to speak or breathe. With the slightest movement that could set them off, you reflexively reach for the blade at your hip so that should anything arise, you’ll be ready. 

“Don’t worry about them,” A voice from behind you speaks up. Cloaked in the shadows from the nearby forest, Chan slowly approaches you. “Jihoon’s asked me to escort you back to headquarters.”

“Are you telling me to run?” You ask, gaze shifting from Chan to Jihoon, who’s still locked eyes with Jisoo. 

“I am,” Chan nods, reaching out so that you might take his hand, “Even if you stay there’s little you can do.” 

You shake your head, his hand falling away back to his side, “I’m going to stay.” 

“What do you think you’ll be able to do here?” Chan doesn’t sound condescending, just confused as to why you’d wish to stay and endanger yourself further. 

You think to what the three intruders had said to you prior, the want to know more about what they’d called you sought itself out with more priority than your own safety at the moment. 

“You have a reason, I see.” The Hwarang shakes his head, not waiting for a response as he sees the conviction already dead-set in your gaze. “I can admire that. But I do have my orders. You may want to stay because you want to do what you believe is right, but I have to do the same.” His hand outstretches towards you once more, a pleading look in his eye as he quietly asks for you to go with him. 

Before his fingers are able to brush against the linen of your robes, an arrow whizzes by, buzzing before it lands with a solid ‘thunk’ in a tree behind Chan. Gaze traveling back to where it had been fired, you find Minghao lowering his bow, his hand still hovering over his quiver should he need to take another shot. 

“She said she wanted to stay,” Minghao sighs, grabbing another arrow before loosely notching it, “You have to learn to respect a woman’s wishes.” 

Mingyu lurches forward with his sword in retaliation for the attack on his fellow Hwarang, hoping to land a blow somewhere on Minghao’s abdomen. The strike though, is easily dodged by the bowman, who merely steps aside and watches as Mingyu’s feet falter as he moves to sling his bow over his shoulder and reach for the sword at his hip.

“Minghao’s temper is going to get him in trouble one day,” you hear Minhyun note with a frown as he witnesses the event. 

“Evidently so,” Hansol agrees, sword still clenched in his fist, “You don’t seem like you’re going to stop him, though.” He then moves to strike the unarmed foe, swinging his sword in a downward motion to try and disrupt the lax stance Minhyun was in. 

“And here I was,” a clanging of metal as Minhyun seems to unsheathe his sword in a blink of an eye and move it upwards to counter Hansol’s blow, “thinking we could just talk this through!” 

“Who the hell are these guys?” Jihoon says through grit teeth as you hover your hand over your blade once more. Behind you, you can hear Chan slip back into the tree line, presumably to go and fetch help for the commander and captains. Minghao and Minhyun are showing much more prowess with a blade than you’d thought, and with Jisoo still standing, you know it’d take more men than the three Hwarang to defeat them. 

For now, though, you put your faith into Jihoon and step back from the fight, an action that draws appraisal from the commander, “Good. Don’t be an idiot and draw your sword. Leave this to me.”

“Don’t you remember the last time we fought?” Jisoo frowns and you recall the fight that Jihoon had found himself entrenched in. The way that the stranger speaks of it unsettles you, as if he’s taunting the commander with the memory of it. “Maybe instead of going easy I’ll just get rid of you.” 

Jihoon laughs at the absurdity of the statement, “I’d love to see you try. I still haven’t paid you back for killing one of my men at Ongsan.”

The rivalry sparks between them, a fire igniting in their gazes before Jihoon takes the first step. They run towards each other, their swords clanging together and ringing out through the nighttime sky. Blades screaming against one another as they’re pulled apart by the respective opponent, Jihoon seeks to swing again only to be parried by Jisoo with ease. 

“What the hell are you?” Jihoon asks as the two part once more, his breathing heaving as it seems as if he’d thrown his all into his last strike. 

“Haven’t I already said what I was? A Demon,” Jisoo frowns, barely looking scathed by the short skirmish, “but not just me, or them, but her too.” His gaze flickers over to you for a moment before looking back to Jihoon. “We’ve come to relinquish you from watching over her.”

“Sounds like bullshit to me,” Jihoon snorts before tightening his grip on his blade. This time, it’s Jisoo who strikes out first, their blades greeting each other with a shuddered clangor. They exchange a few more blows, a strand of Jisoo’s hair edging too close to Jihoon’s blade and quickly getting cut away. The cut strands flutter to the ground and settle by his feet. Instead of looking scared at how close a blade had come to his body, Jisoo shows what seems to be the tiniest bit of surprise before lowering his sword. 

Jihoon, seeing his opposition falter, lowers his blade as well, taking a step back. Around them, you see that Hansol, Minhyun, Mingyu and Minghao have stopped fighting as well. 

“Fighting like this is going to get us nowhere,” Minhyun frowns and looks over to Jisoo, “We’ll only attract more people.”

“I can’t help but feel that that’s targeted at him,” Minghao bites, “I know when to stop, the only one here who’s got an issue with that is—” His gaze trails towards Jisoo as he speaks, biting back a retort. 

A deep, almost exasperated sigh from Jisoo, “We don’t have to stay. We’ve only come to verify that the lead was correct.”

“Do you think we’ll just let you walk away?” Hansol questions, his sword still raised towards the trio. 

“You three might survive,” Jisoo nods, moving to sheath his sword, “but how many of your men will we have to kill before we escape? Are their lives that expendable?” Jihoon, Hansol and Mingyu remain angrily silent, knowing full well they can’t accept that risk. Jisoo smiles at them, he and the two others begin to make their way to the forest’s edge, but before they disappear completely, their leader turns and says one last thing to you.

“I will be back for you.” Not wanting to meet his gaze, your eyes travel to the embroidered yellow azaleas on his robes before they vanish in the denseness of the forest. 

The words whip through you like an icy chill, curling around your stomach with a fear you haven’t felt since you were a child. 

“Are you okay?” Mingyu asks after he’s sheathed his sword and takes a few steps towards you. 

“I’m… alright,” you nod weakly, clenching your fists so they won’t shake.

“You’re bad at lying,” he laughs lightly, “Just wait here for a bit, we’ll have some other men take a few rounds and make sure those three don’t come back.”

“Thank you,” trying to sound as appreciative as you can, you look from Mingyu to Jihoon, who continues to stare into the darkness of the woods as if to try and spot the three figures. 

“Do you have any idea why they came after you?” He questions after a moment, locking eyes with you as if to probe your mind. 

“I’m not sure…” you relent, not knowing whether Jisoo’s words were accurate or not. Were you really what he said, a Demon? 

𝔍𝔲𝔫𝔢 20𝔱𝔥, 662 – 𝔅𝔲𝔩𝔤𝔲𝔨𝔰𝔞 𝔗𝔢𝔪𝔭𝔩𝔢, 𝔎𝔦𝔫𝔤𝔡𝔬𝔪 𝔬𝔣 𝔖𝔦𝔩𝔩𝔞 The incident on the night of the eleventh never comes to the attention of any other members of the Hwarang, save for the commander’s most trusted captains. In lieu of that, life at Bulguksa remains relatively unchanged, the usual grumblings from Gongmyung and his crowd continue as usual and the captain’s antics remain unbothered. 

On this balmy morning, you walk through the halls, coming upon a line of Hwarang gaily chatting among themselves as they wait. Suddenly a door opens from the beginning of the line and Gongmyung comes racing out towards your direction.

“Never have I felt so violated,” He huffs exasperatedly, coming towards you. “This is absolutely horrendous!” 

“Is something wrong, Gongmyung?” You ask with a tilt of your head, wondering what has the Deputy Commander in such a tizzy. 

“Everything!” He pants out, a thin line of panicked sweat trailing down the side of his face, “Why am I meant to disrobe in that room of utter brutes!?” 

His sentence makes you furrow your brow, what exactly is going on? 

“Someone who calls themself a physician who Youngmin met while conversing with the King’s council arrived today,” the Deputy Commander does his best to straighten his robes and adjust his long strands of hair that had gone askew. “He’s holding physical examinations.” With a frown he nods his head towards the door he’d raced out of moments prior, “That monster said I should take my clothes off in front of near strangers! When I refused, he tried to take them off of me himself! And the other captains just stood there! Without doing anything!” 

Seeing as your particular… situation might not be the best for a physical examination in a group full of men, you think about returning to your room before you ask, “What’s the doctor’s name?”

“I think it was Namekawa Yasuo, some man from Yamato,” Gongmyung huffs indignantly. 

“Doctor Namekawa!” You nearly jump at the familiar name. 

The other takes a step back in surprise, “Do you know him or something?”

When you’d arrived in Seorabeol with your father’s letter and a few fragments of some from your father’s collection, his name had been among the signatures. It was your intention upon arrival to seek him out, your father had always called him a trustworthy man. Once in Seorabeol, you found that he’d been away on some patient’s request, and after that you’d quickly gotten swept up into the world of the Hwarang. 

“I’ve got to go!” You brush away his question and barrel past him towards the door he’d exited from. 

“You’re going in there willingly?” Gongmyung calls out from behind you, shaking his head in disgust. 

Almost immediately when you open the door you wish you hadn’t. 

“Alright, next,” the man you presume to be Dr. Namekawa calls out, motioning forward a Hwarang. A nearly fully disrobed Hwarang. 

“My turn!” Junhui shouts and steps forward, only wearing the pants worn underneath his Hwarang robes. “You’re looking at years of training right here,” he laughs almost comically as he approaches the doctor’s station. 

“I think you’re fine, Wen,” Soonyoung scoffs, in a similar state of undress as Junhui, “it’s your head he should be looking at.”

“Are you asking me to beat the shit out of you?” Junhui turns to look at him, a grin split across his face. 

Dr. Namekawa rolls his eyes at him before speaking, “Wen Junhui, you’re fine. Next!” 

“Hold on!” Junhui says, taking a step closer to the doctor and flexing his arm, “You’ve gotta make sure I’m in prime condition!”

“As healthy as a horse,” Namekawa reels, sitting back in his seat, “I’ve seen more than enough, thank you.”

“You’re holding up the line, Wen,” Mingyu calls out, and you spot Hansol standing next to him, both with unamused expressions on their faces. “For the love of— please get moving.”

“I just don’t think he’s had enough time to fully make sure I’m okay!” Junhui complains, “I’m trying to make sure I can bulk up more!”

“This is supposed to be about finding medical issues, not boasting,” Hansol sighs, his arms crossed over his chest, “Move.” 

Your mouth hangs open in shock, it’s now easy to see why Gongmyung had made such a hasty retreat. Shaking your head, you pull yourself from the room and back into the hallway, feeling a creeping heat of embarrassment rise up your neck.

“What are you doing here?” The Hwarang who’s first in line questions, “Is something wrong?” 

“Oh!” Turning, you see Chan gazing at you perplexedly. “Hi, I heard Doctor Namekawa was here.” 

“Ah, so you want to speak to him?” A tilt of his head. “I’ve been briefed on your situation, so I understand what you’re trying to do… But I’m not sure that this is the way to go about it. I’m sure he can speak to you once the physicals are complete.”

You nod, “I just think they might take a while, some of the captains…”

“I’m aware,” he laughs, “if you want me to, I can try to get things moving a little faster.”

“Would you?” Eyes widening, “I’d be thankful if you could.”

“Of course,” the smile still lingering on his lips, “Just leave it to me.” With that he walks into the room and towards the doctor, “Excuse me, Doctor Namekawa? Please let me look after those whose symptoms are minor, I’m sure you could use a break?” 

You stand in the doorway, unable to hear his response, so you step back into the hallway and wait for the doctor to exit. Namekawa Yasuo leaves the room a few moments later, his attention turning to you when you call out to him. 

Namekawa’s eyes narrow as he looks at you, inspecting you as if you were one of his patients. “I need to fetch some medicine from my things, would you mind giving me a hand?” He questions, his gaze softening once you nod your head. 

On the way towards his things, the two of you walk through one of the courtyards and come across Kwak Youngmin walking towards you. He nods at the doctor before glancing at you, “I see you’ve found her already.”

“Thanks to you,” Namekawa nods with a smile at the leader. 

Your brow furrows as you search both of their expressions before the doctor speaks up once more, “I came to Bulguksa to see you. Youngmin told me that Heo’s daughter was staying with the Hwarang.”

“I see,” you realize, your eyes widening as you look towards Youngmin.

“I knew that Namekawa and Heo knew each other,” Youngmin smiles softly, “So I thought that maybe the doctor knew of his friend’s whereabouts.”

Even if the Hwarang wanted to find your father for reasons other than yours, this slight clue was still enough for you to feel happy. 

“Thank you,” a bow to Youngmin and one to Namekawa, “both of you.” 

Namekawa then goes on to say how you’d left just before he arrived at your father’s clinic in Toehwa-hyeon when you’d gone off to Seorabeol. He’d received the letter you sent but once arriving had no idea of where you’d gone or how to find you. 

“I apologize for not seeking you out sooner,” he sounds remorseful, “It must’ve been difficult. If there’s anything I can do for you, please let me know.”

“About my father…” the words leave you and Namekawa’s face turns grim, you already feel as if you know the answer. 

“Unfortunately,” he says once your words have trailed off, “I do not know where your father is residing.”

“Oh,” utter defeat lamenting in your voice as you speak the singular word. You almost feel bad now for feeling so hopeful that Namekawa would have some earth-shattering news about the whereabouts of your father. 

“I hear, though,” Namekawa coughs into his hand to clear his throat, “that you’ve become involved with the treatment… You do know what I’m referring to, right?”

“Are you able to explain it any more?” You’d learned of the serum, seen what it had done to those who’d taken it. But why, why is your father involved with it? “I want to know what my father was experimenting for.”

“Heo was working under Crown orders with the Hwarang to create what are called ‘Furies’,” Namekawa’s voice is low as he speaks, gravelly with a seriousness that permeates into you. “Furies are humans with near supernatural strength and speed. They heal incredibly quickly as well.” 

“Furies?” The word lingers familiarly on your tongue, it takes a moment, but you realize you’d heard the word before. Soonyoung had tried to explain to you what they are on the night that Seungcheol had been injured last year. 

“The contents of the serum are called pimul,” Namekawa crosses his arm, tone still low, “in Tang they call it ‘al iksir’ and in Yamato it’s ‘ochimizu’. It’s meant to grant immortality.”

These words sound like some sort of fantastical fairytale than what’s meant to be real life. Yet, the seriousness of the doctor assures you that it isn’t a sick joke.

“I’ve heard of its healing and strength giving properties,” you nod, “but doesn’t it cause the drinker to go mad?” Recalling the night you had stumbled into Seorabeol and the nobles who’d been attacked by the rouge Hwarang furies causes you to shudder. “And even if that doesn’t drive you insane, the smell of blood can set you off too…”

A heaving sigh as Namekawa nods solemnly, moving then to pinch the bridge of his nose with his thumb and forefinger, “So you’re aware of that as well…” 

“Why was my father doing this?” You plead more than ask, trying to search the depths of your mind to reason with yourself and come to a believable situation that would’ve caused Heo Jinsang to work with such a vile creation. 

“That may have been why he left,” Namekawa suggests softly, “His morals would no longer allow him to work on such a thing.”

“And yet we were given the pimul by the Crown to help strengthen the Hwarang…” Youngmin frowns and looks towards the sidewalk.

“It was an experiment,” Namekawa shakes his head, “and it failed. It’s probably best to leave it behind, I’m sure the Crown has abandoned its ambition with it as well.”

The leader looks up and frowns at the doctor, probably unhappy to hear that Namekawa would question the Crown’s once official decision. 

“You’ve seen what it’s done to your men,” Namekawa insists, “It’s inhumane and you know it better than I do.”

Youngmin lets out a huff of air and then falls silent. You know that he knows how detrimental it is to his men, painfully so. Yet, the pimul was given to him on official orders and a secret request from the former King. 

“I understand that you’re one of the King’s doctors, yet…” A voice from behind after a moment of silence. Your eyes widen at the sight of Seungcheol in the daylight, knowing that the sun’s rays have an adverse effect on him. “You’re not a member of the Hwarang, you have no right to object to our methods.” His face paling in the light, lost of all color, almost as if he were a walking corpse. 

“Are you okay walking around like this?” You ask him quietly, your voice teetering on worry and a whisper. 

“You look pale, Seungcheol,” Youngmin frowns at the colonel, “You should be resting.”

“Don’t mind me,” Seungcheol shakes his head and then turns to the doctor. “We use the serum effectively and at our own discretion.” His gaze hardens when they lock eyes, his voice becoming gravely serious, almost as if he’s been offended.

“It’s far too dangerous to—” Namekawa begins before being interrupted by Seungcheol.

“We have and will continue to work on Heo’s research.” His voice, behind the veneer of quiet anger, sounds weakened. “I am living proof of its effectiveness.” 

“You may be right,” Namekawa cedes before raising another point, “But that doesn’t mean you’re not forcing your body in ways unseen with the eye.”

“I’m perfectly healthy,” Seungcheol insists, “With continued research and alterations to the serum, we’ll have less casualties and more success.” 

“And are you planning on sacrificing your men for your success?” Namekawa frowns, “These men aren’t just common folk, many are the sons of nobles, aristocrats! Sons who will be missed should they just disappear.”

“It’s not as if we’re force feeding them pimul.” Seungcheol’s agitated at the doctor, you don’t know the last time he was able to see his own family since becoming a Fury. “The men who devote and give their lives to the Hwarang are the foundation of my work, they did not and will not die in vain.”

“But—”

“I think that’s enough,” Youngmin steps in before the doctor can say anything else, “from either of you. Let’s discuss this at another time.”

To you it seems that neither Seungcheol or Namekawa would ever come to a civil agreement on the ethics of the serum’s usage. But that was an opinion you feel is best not said at this moment. 

The anger in Seungcheol’s face subsides, and the corner of his mouth turns up into a smile before he bows and leaves the three of you wordlessly. 

“So…” Youngmin says as Seungcheol recedes back into the headquarters inner buildings, “How did exams go?”

“About that,” Namekawa begins, “It’s a bit troubling.”

“Troubling?” Youngmin asks, confused, “What do you mean by that?”

“What do you mean ‘What do you mean’?” Namekawa frowns, “The amount of injured and ill men you have is nearly a quarter of your forces!”

“That’s—” Youngmin’s voice catches in his throat, “Are you sure?”

“I am not only sure, but it is the definite truth,” A disparaging shake of his head, “What have you been doing to these men? Cuts, lacerations, bowel pains… Need I mention the lice?”

“I’m embarrassed to hear that, I really am,” Youngmin looks as such, his ears pink as he drops his shoulders. “What can I do?”

“Set aside a space for the ill and those needing medical attention, for starters. I can send some pyrethrum powder for the lice,” Namekawa lists off and you can see Youngmin mentally making a list, “Second, this place needs to be cleaned. I can’t help you otherwise.”

“Of course,” Youngmin nods, the tinge of embarrassment still riding his tone, “I’ll have everything seen to immediately.” 

And so, the Hwarang are ordered to clean. Those who are able-bodied enough to hold a broom or a rag are sent to the main hall, Youngmin quickly barking out cleaning orders and sending them all over Bulguksa to thoroughly scrub the temple down.

“Why the hell are we doing this?” Junhui grumbles as he sits on his knees, scrubbing at the wooden floors. “I can think of nothing less I would want to be doing right now.”

“Stop complaining so much,” Mingyu sighs and calls him over, “Help me lift up this cabinet, it’s a great way to show off your muscles from earlier.”

You’re walking into the main hall with a bucket of water when you hear Soonyoung cry out, causing you to jump and spill some of the liquid onto the floor and your shoes.

“A RAT!” He nearly screeches, hopping behind Hansol when he spots the gray creature dart out from a bookcase. 

“Calm down Soonyoung,” Hansol looks as if he’s holding back a smile, trying to keep the reserved demeanor he usually has, “It’s not that bad. It actually looks like it’s eating that—is that dried up tteok?”

“Yeah!” Soonyoung says, leaning forward to get a look at the rat’s snack, “Who the hell hides their sweets back here?!”

A grumble from the other side of the room, you look over to see Kangjoon holding a boom, “Why are we bothering ourselves with work a servant should be doing? I’m a strategist, not a cleaner.”

“Why don’t you show us your school’s technique, then?” Mingyu scoffs, “You said it’s prized knowledge, maybe it can help us here.”

“Shut it!” Kangjoon says angrily, “The Pohang style wasn’t designed to help with housework!”

“You’re a little bit of a bully, huh, Mingyu?” Dongyoung snickers as he peeks out from behind one of the various shelves, “Those old-timey tactics of his wouldn’t even allow him to hold a broomstick, let alone make a dent in this mess.”

Kangjoon’s stare hardens at Dongyoung, “You should watch your mouth… Compared to the techniques from Tang it may be outdated, but I can assure you it still holds up.” 

“Oh,” Mingyu looks past Kangjoon and out one of the doorways, “Youngmin’s coming.”

“Chief!” Kangjoon spins on his heels towards the door, “Look at this, the room was so filthy you couldn’t even walk properly, and with my guidance it’s—” He stops once he realizes there’s no one standing in the doorway, “Where’s Kwak?”

“You’re an idiot,” Mingyu rolls his eyes.

“Damn you, Kim,” Kangjoon spits venomously, “You tricked me!”

“An idiot and a kiss ass,” Mingyu hums, “Quite the multitasker. Don’t you ever get tired being such a two-faced asshole, not knowing which mask to wear?” 

Kangjoon fumes and angrily stomps down towards the other end of the hall. You see this as an opportunity to proclaim your findings.

“I brought you all some fresh rags and water to help you clean the floor with,” you announce, holding out the bucket and handful of cloth to the captains.

“Thanks!” Soonyoung says as he bounds over, swiftly taking the items from your grasp and heading back to his work station. 

𝔍𝔲𝔫𝔢 21𝔰𝔱, 662 – 𝔅𝔲𝔩𝔤𝔲𝔨𝔰𝔞 𝔗𝔢𝔪𝔭𝔩𝔢, 𝔎𝔦𝔫𝔤𝔡𝔬𝔪 𝔬𝔣 𝔖𝔦𝔩𝔩𝔞 “This looks to be adequate enough,” Namekawa Yasuo had arrived early the next morning to check the cleanliness of the headquarters. He now stands in the main hall, a look of approval on his features as he notes the sheen of the floorboards. 

“Right?” Junhui beams, “See? The doc can acknowledge my hard work.”

Kangjoon lets out something of a guffaw at the statement, “Compared to the nuances of strategy, it’s not like tidying up is a magnificent feat or anything.”

“All you did was complain,” Junhui frowns.

“Yeah,” Soonyoung nods, “And Seungkwan got to rest all day! Sounds like he was getting special treatment while we worked our asses off.”

“Not my fault,” Seungkwan raises his hands to show he’s innocent from that decision, “Jihoon’s the one being overprotective.” 

“It is your fault,” Jihoon snaps at him, arms crossing over his chest, “You’re not taking care of yourself, that’s why you’re coughing up a lung.”

“I will admit,” Hansol say, looking around the space, “It is nice seeing the headquarters put together.”

“It does look different,” Jihoon nods, also taking a moment to admire the cleanliness of the main hall, “I hope to keep it this way.”

“Then we should clean every day,” Mingyu laughs aloud.

“Great idea! Make sure you scrub the baseboards Soonie,” Junhui jokes along with the other while Soonyoung’s eyes go wide.

“But you’ve got the most energy and the biggest muscles, Junhui! Don’t think I’m letting you slide on this,” the younger argues to the two others. 

“I’ll help you,” you offer with a smile, knowing that he’d need it.

“Really?” He perks up, “Yeah, we don’t need them anyway, you and me against the world!”

“Hold on,” Junhui interrupts, “I didn’t say that I wasn’t going to help…” 

Jihoon lets out a laugh, “Wen, there’s some trash over there, mind taking it out?”

“Hooold on, we’re not starting until tomorrow, right, Soonyoung?” Junhui looks to him for help.

“If you keep flailing your arms like that you’re only going to stir up more dust,” Hansol sighs as he watches Junhui scramble to big up the assorted pieces of garbage. 

You laugh at the scene until something catches your eye, you spot both Namekawa and Seungkwan duck out of the room and head outside. Brow furrowing for a moment, you think to follow after them but stop yourself as it isn’t any of your concern.

After the ruckus in the main hall dies down, you grab a broom and head outside to sweep away fallen debris from the walkway leading to the main hall. You’ve just started to sweep the broom across the agate stone when a figure appears before you.

Head turning up from looking down at the azalea embroidered robes, all you can spurt out is a “You!” before taking a step back. 

“You’ve got ancient blood running through your veins and yet you clean up after these humans?” Jisoo sounds saddened on the verge of disgust as he looks at you. 

“What are you doing here?” You question as the grip you have on the broom handle tightens as he chuckles at you.

“Don’t tell me you’re going to fight me with that?” He shakes his head, biting back a laugh, “Was your family not blessed with brains?”

You don’t respond, instead look around for anything or anyone who could help you. Of course, the entrance lies empty, all of the captains still squabbling somewhere deep in the compound.

“Calm down,” Jisoo sighs, his laughter ceasing, “I’m not here to fight today. I only want to know what, if anything, you have to do with Heo Jinsang.”

Stunned by his statement, your lips part in shock, “My father?”

“…Father?” Jisoo looks surprised by your answer, “Heo Jinsang is your father?”

“Yes,” you nod, “he is.”

The man seems shocked at first, then that emotion melts away as it looks as if he’s putting the pieces of a puzzle together. He opens his mouth to say something else but a voice behind you stops him.

“Sneaking into your enemy’s base alone?” Jihoon’s voice rings out as his footsteps approach, the sound of dirt under foot crunching growing nearer and nearer. “I thought you’d be smarter than that.”

A few other pairs of footsteps and you turn and see him flanked by both Mingyu and Soonyoung.

“In broad daylight too,” Mingyu shakes his head at the intruder, “Figures.”

“Get away from her!” Soonyoung’s more than a little adamant, his hand already hovering over his sword. 

“The Hwarang only come in bushels, huh?” Jisoo says, seemingly wanting to egg the men on.

“Watch it,” Jihoon says sternly, the tension between the two becoming more palpable by the second. 

Surprisingly, it’s Jisoo who tries to sate it. “If you want to fight, then I’ll be happy to do so… But I’m here for other reasons, more specifically, to issue a warning.” His eyes grow dark and his tone more serious at his next statement, “Stop trying to turn humans into Demons.”

“You don’t know what you’re talking about,” Jihoon frowns as he watches the other carefully.

“What makes you think that we’re going to listen to you?” Mingyu pokes at Jisoo.

“You’re all idiots,” Jisoo shakes his head warily, “Can’t you see that I’m trying to help you?” He rolls his eyes, “Forget it, it was useless trying to say anything to you.”

“This is our base,” Soonyoung raises his voice, “You should shut up before we decide to do something about you being here.”

Jisoo ignores the captain’s words and turns to you, a coldness in his eyes as he speaks, “Heo is with us now, don’t you understand what that means?” He searches your eyes for a spark of recognition, but it doesn’t seem to click so he elaborates further, “Your father has abandoned the Crown.”

“What…?” You say, still puzzled by what he means. 

“Why are you here?” A cold smile to match his gaze creeps onto his lips, “I think you should ponder on that. Carefully.” With that final statement he turns on his heels and seems to disappear into the shadows. You’re not sure if he just did, your mind too caught up in what he just said. 

What or who were the Demons? Your father is with them? You thought Hong Jisoo’s family to be just opposing the opposite side of the court that favored the Hwarang, was it a ruse and he’s actually some sort of revivalist? Does this mean that your father is working with them?

Who are these people that call themselves ‘Demons’? And what do they want with you? 

“Who are they?” You look at Jihoon, “The Demons?”

“After fighting them, I can say that they’re not like any human I’ve ever fought,” a shake of his head, “Not even close. I’ve fought against people from each kingdom but none of them… They’ve never been that powerful.” He muses for a moment and nods, “I’d say ‘demon’ is a pretty accurate descriptor.” 

“If the commander thinks they’re demons, they really just might be,” Mingyu says, his brow furrowing at Jihoon. 

“He is the Hwarang’s Demon, after all,” Soonyoung notes, the same concern from Mingyu’s tone riding in his. 

“This is serious,” Jihoon looks at them, trying to quell the playful argument. You feel the tension in your shoulders ease after a while, the dread of seeing Jisoo on familiar ground eventually dissipating as the moments pass. With his arrival, and how easy it was for him to come unexpectedly, you’re sure that you’ll have to have a higher guard now as you walk the headquarters. 

𝔖𝔢𝔭𝔱𝔢𝔪𝔟𝔢𝔯 7𝔱𝔥, 662 – 𝔅𝔲𝔩𝔤𝔲𝔨𝔰𝔞 𝔗𝔢𝔪𝔭𝔩𝔢, 𝔎𝔦𝔫𝔤𝔡𝔬𝔪 𝔬𝔣 𝔖𝔦𝔩𝔩𝔞 Compared to the year before, it seems as if the Hwarang aren’t being called on to do as much. Both the raid on Wonweol and the attack on Ongsan seem like a distant memory as you look up at your ceiling from your bed. In a way, you’re thankful for the peace wrought on by this year. It’s allowed you to take up looking for your father again and help more around the temple. The night rolling in and covering your room in a shroud of darkness, the sound of the crickets outside chirping away keeping you awake. 

You push yourself from your bedding and rise to your feet, maybe a walk would help you become sleepy. Right now, you are anything but tired.

Treading quietly across the floor, you open your door, the hinges creaking as you push it open. The halls are quiet as you trapeze through them, in some rooms you can hear loud snoring, in others, nothing at all. You don’t catch sight of anyone until you reach the end of the hall that opens into a courtyard, a figure standing in the shadows as they look up towards the sky. 

As you edge nearer to the greenery, you can see that it’s the commander, standing still as the moonlight cascades down onto him. His foot taps in subtle anxiousness, as if he’s waiting for someone. 

This isn’t something for you to see, but a quickening curiosity takes over you as another figure approaches the commander from the other end of the courtyard.

“I’m sorry for asking you to come out so late, Jihoon,” Seungcheol’s quiet voice rings out through the nearly empty space. 

“Don’t worry about it,” Jihoon turns from gazing up at the stars and looks to his friend with a small smile, “It’s a little difficult to talk during the day.”

You’ve lost all chance to either leave or inject yourself into the conversation, so you just stand and watch their conversation unfold before you. 

“How are you doing?” Jihoon asks, his once soft gaze hardening with concern, “Don’t bullshit me, I’ve barely seen you since you went to Hwangnyongsa.”

Seungcheol merely smiles softly, “I’m feeling alright since the sun’s down. If I was going to complain I’d talk about the heat or humidity.”

“I know you don’t like the sun,” The commander notes, “and everybody hates the humidity and heat. But you know what I’m asking, Seungcheol.”

“Are you asking if I’ve gone mad?” The colonel asks simply, his brow raising. “If you’re worried about me, I’ll let you know that I don’t regret taking the pimul; I’ve regained the use of my arm, I’m able to carry a sword when I thought I’d never do so again.”

 Seungcheol’s smile doesn’t seem to be the answer that Jihoon is looking for, and a frown overtakes him. “At what cost, though?” His voice low as he asks, pressing further, “When you become a Fury, you lose a part of yourself… Maybe even too much. I’m sorry if I’m not taking this lightly, I’m worried about you.”

“You’ve always worried too much, Jihoon,” Seungcheol says, brows knitting together as he cannot fully understand his friend’s concern. “This was a gift, a miracle, even!”

“One man’s miracle is another’s curse,” Jihoon sighs out with a scowl, “I don’t like the monkey’s paw aspect of it.”

“How scary!” Seungcheol chuckles, “I’d be a fool if I ignored one of your famed hunches.”

“You’d be a fool if you joked about this,” the scowl still present as Jihoon crosses his arms, “I’m not trying to be funny.” His fingers tap along his robes as he shakes his head, “You should be standing side by side with Youngmin and me, you’re a colonel, our colonel.” 

“You’re acting odd,” Seungcheol’s lighthearted tone vacating, “Are you okay?” He suddenly looks over to you, locking eyes with yours as a small smile dances along his lips.

Jihoon follows his line of sight and catches you eavesdropping into their conversation. “What are you doing out here?!” He questions as you panic in place. 

“I’m sorry,” breaking your gaze with Seungcheol you look to the ground, “I wasn’t sure if I should say something and then the two of you began talking…” 

“You’ve got more important things to worry about than me, Jihoon,” Seungcheol sighs out and looks at the commander. “Gongmyung and his men, for starters. I’ve heard he’s been acting stranger than usual these days.”

“I’ve been working on that,” Jihoon relents, dropping his arms to let them fall to his sides. 

Seungcheol nods, a gleam of satisfaction in his eye before he gives you a simple nod and walks away into the depths of the compound. You’re about to return to your quarters before Jihoon calls out to you.

“I haven’t dismissed you yet,” he says as you begin to turn. You freeze in place only to turn to face him fully once more. “I know you’re not an idiot so you shouldn’t act like one.” His voice is low, almost a whisper as he doesn’t wish for anyone to overhear him, “The more you know about us, the more danger you’re putting in front of yourself. It’s easy to die around here, you’ve seen that… Do you understand?”

“I’m sorry for imp—” you begin before he cuts you off, raising his voice.

“Don’t be sorry,” his head shakes, “Just be careful and stay out of trouble.” When it seems like he has nothing more to say, he raised a hand to the bridge of his nose and pinches it, quelling some sort of thought before he turns of his heels and begins to walk back towards his room. 

“Commander,” you find yourself calling out. Jihoon looks so… dejected and lonely after his talk with Seungcheol, you have to say something. “Can I help with the research?”

“What the hell?” You hear him say before he turns to look back at you, “Of course not.”

“I don’t have my father’s knowledge or expertise… but I want to do something to help,” you insist, feeling responsible as if your absent father’s duties had been passed to you. “I can read his notes and help explain them, he left a lot of research material at his clinic in Toehwa-hyeon… There’s got to be something useful there. I can find something to help.”

“Heo continued his research here, don’t you know that?” Jihoon takes a deep breath as to not fume so much, “Even if we tore his clinic down to the foundations to get any scrap of information, the chances that we’ll find some new research is slim to none.” 

“I can do my own research!” You push, hands clenching at your sides.

“You’re not thinking about this hard enough,” His gaze hardens, “Could you accept responsibility for things if they go south?” A sigh as he sees you begin to stumble and scramble for words, “Look, your father’s one of the top doctors in the kingdom with the knowledge of Tang medicine. He couldn’t figure that shit out. Someone like your or me with no outstanding medical knowledge isn’t going to do much better.”

Jihoon’s right and you know it, even if you don’t want to admit your faulty thinking. It’s highly ambitious of you to think that you could find a cure-all to the pimul and what your father had done to the Hwarang. As you look to Jihoon, you try and look as stoic and unbothered as possible to stop him from seeing how heartbroken you feel.

His mouth turns into a wry smile at your attempt, “You want to help and that’s what’s important. I won’t forget that.” Jihoon nods his head to show appreciation, “But you have to wait for now. The Hwarang dug themselves into this hole so that means we have to find a way out.” 

Even if his demeanor is cold most of the time, there’s a hidden sincerity behind that face that only peeks through sometimes.

“I get it,” he continues, “your father was a part of the research team and you feel responsible, right? We’re still looking for him, and either we find him, or we don’t, you’ll just have to wait.” When you continue to silently object him, he frowns a bit, “Furies are bad news, in a perfect world we would’ve never gotten involved. But this world is far from it, and they might be our advantage should Goguryeo try and help those revivalists. Only as a last resort though, the cost is still too high.”

A shake of his head, “Never mind that now, though. This is between you and me though, okay?” His words hold the same tinge of threat that you’d heard on several occasions before. You nod almost out of habit at this point. “Also, the next time you take a stroll, be more cautious of who and what you may be stumbling in on.”

bingewatching will never come close to bingereading. there is nothing like blocking out the entire Earth for ten hours to read a book in one sitting no food no water no shower no bra and emerging at the end with no idea what time it is or where you are, a dried-up prune that's sensitive to light and loud noises because you've been in your room in the dark reading by the glow of a single LED. it's like coming back after a three-month vacation in another dimension and now you have to go downstairs and make dinner. absolutely transcendental

SCOUPS @ Lollapalooza Berlin

SCOUPS Brisant

━:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧✯Hogwarts Altior

by @okiedokrie and @inkchwe !

━:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧✯ Links!!

What is Hogwarts Altior?

About Hogwarts

The New Building

Magic Technology

Neo-Deatheaters

Read more here! Masterlist coming soon!

Hogwarts Altior, Seventeen AU!

a must read!

Loved the author's writing style, how it brings the historical settings to life and immerses the reader to the sights and sounds of Silla. The pacing was well-structured; balancing quieter, reflective moments to intense action. It is the very first chapter but I find myself deeply invested in the story and how it flows around all the characters.

spoilers below

Jisoo, is someone I'm really curious about, where he stands in the power dynamics and what exactly his ideologises are.

Where has father heo been hiding (or is he dead?) and what exactly was his role in the main city?

Does the reader have some special powers? as it was mentioned that she healed faster than most.

Is the heirloom blade of more importance than it seems?

I'm SO excited to get answers to these questions in the next parts!!!!! Keep up the excellent work author, rooting for this series 🤍

𝔥𝔴𝔞𝔯𝔞𝔫𝔤 - 𝔩𝔧𝔥 || 𝔭𝔞𝔯𝔱 𝔦

pairing: lee jihoon x female!reader genre: historical au, fluff, angst, smut (later routes), supernatural members: choi seungcheol, wen junhui, kwon soonyoung, jeon wonwoo, lee seokmin, kim mingyu, boo seungkwan, lee chan warnings: crass humor and language, blood, violence, mentions of suicide, alcohol, minor character death, 660's sexism, crossdressing, medical procedures, political upset, historical innacuarcies for the sake of plot progression word count: 33.5k

taglist: @hipsdofangirl

𝔭𝔯𝔬𝔩𝔬𝔤𝔲𝔢 || 𝔭𝔞𝔯𝔱 𝔦𝔦

𝔍𝔞𝔫𝔲𝔞𝔯𝔶 17𝔱𝔥, 661 – 𝔖𝔥𝔬𝔰𝔥𝔦𝔫 𝔗𝔢𝔪𝔭𝔩𝔢, 𝔎𝔦𝔫𝔤𝔡𝔬𝔪 𝔬𝔣 𝔖𝔦𝔩𝔩𝔞 The cold, gray sky of winter greets you with its hollow breath as you swing the door to your room open, any heat that has accumulated overnight swiftly dissipating as swaths of blustery air invade the space. From the looks of it, thick, gray clouds had begun to accumulate over the city outside the walls of the Hwarang’s compound, forecasting at least a light blanket of snow in the coming hours. You’d have to make sure that the fires from the kitchen aren’t low so that the ondol keeps warm under the building’s floors. 

Before you move to exit the room, you reach to grab a jacket from your handful of things, sighing as you catch sight of a piece of paper hidden under your coat. It’s the letter that had brought you here in the first place. Nearly two weeks have passed since your arrival at the Hwarang’s headquarters, the same frigidity that had met you on your first meeting was still ingrained into them, the same distrust, no doubt, but it isn’t as if you can leave. 

 A frown as you look down at your clothes after shrugging the jacket onto your shoulders. Instead of your father’s clothes that you’d arrived in, they’d given you robes of their own. Not the blues of their commanders or warriors, but the deep green of their lesser ranks; of the pageboys, cooks, and less desirable positions within their numbers. They were and are foreign to you, you’d much rather wear the clothes that feel more familiar, even if they are men’s. But you aren’t meant to raise suspicion, just keep your head low until they find out more information of your father’s whereabouts. A female hiding out in the Hwarang’s headquarters would raise suspicion, start rumors, and with how much they hold themselves to a gold standard, it would be irreparable to their reputation. 

Jihoon, the Hwarang’s commander, had given you strict instructions to keep up the facade as a male. Saying that, while it would be harmful to their reputation if the word got out, it would also be a beacon for those looking for your father, or perhaps even you. Only those that you’d met on the first day, as well as a handful of others within their leadership, know of your true identity.

As you move your hands away from the hem of your jacket, your fingers brush against the blade that Jihoon had given back to you the day you’d arrived. It’d been somewhat ceremonial in your household, not a thing of use as there was no need for it. Your father had claimed it to be an heirloom kept in the family since the birth of Silla as a kingdom. You aren’t sure of the validity of that statement though, as the metal isn’t tinged with rust, it looks newly forged at times.

Regardless of the validity of the blade, your father made you take several lessons with your town’s local head guard, who’d only taught a girl because her father was a well-known physician. Also, because your father could treat any injury you sustained while practicing, which wasn’t ever needed as any scrapes or scratches you obtained healed fairly quickly. When you were little you didn’t think much of it. Yet as you grew older you realized that you healed faster than most. Your father said it must’ve been a gift from the Heavens but urged you not to tell anyone about it. And you hadn’t, fearing that those around you would treat you like a witch or a monster if they were to find out.

Swordplay was never something you took much interest in, seeing that you’d probably never put the techniques you’d learned to use. Besides, you aren’t a bloodthirsty fiend looking for a chance to use it anyway, you’d rather help people than hurt them. 

You’re pulled from your thoughts for a brief moment as a wang-do, one of the common Hwarang soldiers, passes by your room. They lock eyes with you for a moment, a scowl sneering onto their lips before they break their gaze and continue to stride past. Private rooms were only given to personnel of a higher rank within the Hwarang, and seeing how you are a newcomer, you can somewhat understand the resentment some of them have with your staying not in the typical quarters of those of your rank. 

With more guilt than not as you accept the hospitality of the Hwarang, you try to help out as much as you can, despite the wishes of the commander. To the average wang-do, it probably seems as if you’re receiving special treatment from the captains. Despite the actuality of them keeping watch over you to make sure you wouldn’t spew their secrets; it would be confusing, aggravating even, from an outsider’s perspective. But, even if you were allowed free reign of the headquarters, it’s not as if you could speak to any of them, most were nobles from families of high wealth. And your father isn’t poor by any means, but the wealth disparity between the nobles of the capital and nobles of the countryside is nothing to scoff at. 

So, you remain alone, for the time being, finding that the best way to not draw attention to yourself is to become practically invisible. Maybe if Jihoon allowed you to go out and search for your father you would find yourself more useful, but he’d just left for Hanseong a few days prior. Seeing as the man in charge of your stay here isn’t available, maybe your best bet would be to stay in your room until something of note happened, despite how aggravatingly boring it is. 

The room is practically empty, only a bed, a small chest of drawers and a writing desk to keep you company. It reminds you of when your father would leave for his patient visits, disappearing for days at a time and leaving you alone at home. Although it isn’t the same, those visits had the promise of return. Waiting for someone you knew would come back and waiting for the unknown are vastly different things.

As your reflections manifest into exasperated sighs, you barely notice the sound of approaching footsteps heading towards your room. 

“There you are!” Youngmin, the head of the Hwarang, exclaims once he catches sight of you. “I’ve been looking everywhere for you; I didn’t think you’d be in here!” He beams at you for a moment before stepping into the room with a tray in his hands. 

“Oh, I’m… sorry?” you apologize as he sets down the tray onto the writing desk nestled into the corner of the room. 

“Ah… wait… This is your room?” He questions as he straightens up, looking around at the interior for a moment. 

“It is,” you nod, wondering what he’s thinking about. 

“Then I just barged into a woman’s room without even announcing myself!” He looks flustered, his cheeks turning a tinge pink as he realizes his mistake and takes a few steps out of the room.

“It’s alright,” you try to assure him, “After all, it’s not like there’s anything here that I wouldn’t want you to see.”

“Hmm,” he sighs, trying to compose himself, “I thought since we’d assigned you to be Jihoon’s page your room would be next to his…” It seems as if Jihoon had neglected to inform Youngmin that you hadn’t actually been made a page. That isn’t in the least bit surprising with how coldly the commander had been treating you. 

“I’m not fully equipped to entertain guests, but you’re welcome to come in if you’d like,” you offer, motioning for him to come back inside the room.

“You don’t need to worry,” he waves his hand as if to brush off the thought, “And, if I may, I’ll take you up on your offer.” Youngmin then steps back into the room, and as if he notices your hesitant demeanor, he speaks up once more, “And please don’t feel nervous around me, as long as you’re here you’re a guest of the Hwarang.”

You offer him a small smile before looking down to the tray he’d carried in. A look of shock comes over your face as you realize what he’d brought, “This is—!”

Youngmin chuckles lightly, “I take it you’re a fan of sweets then? Jihoon’s adoptive mother likes to send them to us every once in a while, and hardly anyone touches them.” Several assorted hangwa lay on the dish, their colors vibrant against the gray gloom of the light shining in from outside, next to a steaming cup of tea. “Go ahead and have some, if you’d like.” 

“Thank you very much,” you nod and make your way over to gingerly pick up one of the confections. You look at the pink treat for a moment before taking a bite out of it, savoring the sweetness of it before turning back to Youngmin, “It’s delicious.” Snacks like this were only limited to holidays or festivals back home, it’s shocking to hear that Jihoon’s mother had sent such a thing on a whim. 

“I’m glad you like them,” he smiles. Something about Youngmin’s presence holds an aura of warmth, that makes you feel more relaxed than you had been with any other member of the Hwarang since your arrival. “Ah, I’ve also heard you haven’t been able to go outside?”

A nod, “That’s right. But if that’s what’s needed for me to stay here, I wouldn’t want to cause any unnecessary trouble by going out.”

He looks almost sympathetic as he parts his lips once more, “I see… I’m glad you understand. I know that Jihoon can seem a little intimidating at first but he’s a truly caring man.”

To see the man who’d kept you in relative solitude for a few weeks as a caring person didn’t seem fully right… But Youngmin knows him much better than you do.

“He may be a little strict with you, but only because he’s trying to do what’s in your best interest.” Youngmin sighs, a telling sign that maybe he hadn’t agreed with everything Jihoon had done before. “I’ll speak to him once he gets back, I know this must be hellish for you, but I can only ask you to hang in for a bit longer.”

“Alright,” you nod, “Thank you.” Even if Youngmin’s visit hadn’t done much to change your living arrangement, it had lightened your mood ever so slightly. 

After Youngmin had departed and you’d been left to sulk in your room for a while, you notice that the sun was slowly sinking into the sky. The clouds of earlier in the day had parted to let the golden light shine onto the headquarters as the sun made its descent into the horizon. It feels as if time itself has stopped, the sun hanging in the same place for an unimaginably long time.

All this time in solitude is doing a number on both your mental and emotional state. Any hope of getting out of your isolation seems to slip with each passing moment you spend alone. You had come to the capital to find your father, not get swept up into a world where your life lay on the line should you slip up and say something you shouldn’t.

Even if they were showing you more hospitality than you could’ve asked for, you know that you can’t trust the Hwarang completely. 

“They can’t all be that bad… right?” you mutter to yourself as you sit at the small drawing table, flipping through the letters you’d brought with you.

“Has anyone ever called you ‘gullible’, before?” A voice behind you causing you to jump and turn to see who’d spoken. 

Your gaze hardens as you see Boo Seungkwan standing in your doorway, arms crossed with a small frown painted on his lips. “What are you doing here?” Asking as you push yourself to your feet, brushing off your pant legs before facing him fully. 

“You didn’t notice me? It’s my turn to keep watch over you,” he sighs, “You talk to yourself a lot, don’t you?”

Had you really been thinking aloud earlier? You bite your lip and try to mentally remind yourself to never do that again as you’d never know who could be listening in on you here. Before you can retort, Hansol steps in from the hallway.

“I think that’s enough picking on her, Seungkwan.” He frowns at the other.

“Did you hear me too?” You question, somewhat embarrassed about how this was playing out. 

“I only just arrived,” he shakes his head in the negative. “I came to tell you that dinner is ready but,” Hansol’s eyes narrow ever so slightly at you, noticing how incrementally flustered you’re getting, “have I interrupted something?”

“Nothing at all!” You insist, trying to calm yourself.

“I was going to let the two of you continue to speak, but if I had left you two alone, I knew that he’d probably try and get you out of sorts again,” Hansol notes somewhat stoically, probably thinking to the times where he’d been in the exact same situation. His shoulders shrug before the sound of more approaching footsteps reaches you. 

Soonyoung rushes into the room with loud, heavy stomps. His eyes are somewhat frantic, his voice somewhat annoyed as he speaks, “Hey! It’s dinnertime and I’m absolutely starving.” 

“Sorry about that, I’ll be there soon,” Hansol apologizes to the younger.

Soonyoung then looks to you, “You too, hurry up or Junhui’s gonna eat all of the food again.”

“Sorry Captain Kwon, I’ll be there as soon as I can.” You say as he begins to turn on his heels to leave before stopping himself.

His lips purse together before he looks back at you, “Look… can you drop the ‘Captain Kwon’ thing? Just call me Soonyoung, everyone else here does.”

“Are you sure about that?” You question with an inquisitive tilt of your head.

“Why not? We’re practically the same age, aren’t we? And we don’t need honorifics either, I’m not one of those uptight nobles.” He frowns slightly.

“Alright then… Soonyoung.” 

“That’s more like it,” he grins, “Now let’s go.”

The walk to the dining area is more familiar than any other route you’d taken thus far during your stay with the Hwarang. Meals are the only time of day that you really are able to leave your room and have company, even if that company was the other captains of the Hwarang.

“You’re lateee,” a whine from Wen Junhui as he sits in front of his meal, the lids still atop the dishes so as to not let the steam out. “Who’s responsible for this? My stomach’s crying and I think my soup’s already gone cold,” he frowns as everyone finishes filing into the hall. 

“You mean ‘growling’,” Soonyoung snickers as he moves to take his seat next to Junhui, you move to sit on the other side of Junhui, next to Mingyu. “Sometimes it’s really easy to tell that you’re not from here.”

“That doesn’t even matter, you should all apologize to my stomach,” the taller’s hands fly to his abdomen as the remaining captains take their seats, “it’s been desperate for food since this morning’s practice routines.”

A small ‘tch’ from Mingyu as he rolls his eyes at the two, “A commoner correcting a noble, I never thought I’d see the day.” There’s a tinge of sarcasm to his voice as he speaks, the tone disappearing as he pipes up once more, “Alright, now that everyone’s here we can eat.”

There’s general chatter amongst the captains as they start to uncover their dishes and begin to dig into their meals. You sit and eat in relative silence until Junhui’s voice begins to raise on your right.

“There’s hardly enough here to feed a kid, let alone a guy like me,” you turn your head and watch his gaze trail down to Soonyoung’s tray to his right, “I guess I’ll have to take yours…” His now empty hands make a grab for the bowl of rice situated atop Soonyoung’s tray. “Survival of the—”

“Survival of the fittest my ass, Junhui,” the other retorts, sticking out his elbow and hitting the other square in the chest. There’s a hollow thud reverberating around Wen’s ribcage, it sounds painful, but he doesn’t look phased at all. But it did stop him from trying to snatch Soonyoung’s meal. “Why’re you always stealing my food?”

Junhui laughs, you hear Mingyu also let out a small chuckle to your left. “It’s because of the size difference, Soonyoung. I’ve got the bigger body; therefore I need more food.” 

“No way, I’ve gotta eat too!” Soonyoung protests, his elbow still locked in place trying to hold the other back. 

“You’d think they’d be more civil around a woman,” Mingyu, at the tailend of his laughter, notes about the two, “but they’re always like this.” 

“I think I’ve gotten used to it by now,” you respond, setting down the cup of tea you’d been drinking before looking at Hansol, who’s gaze seems to have drifted across the room to the bickering pair.

“How we’ve managed so long without them killing one another is beyond me,” he says before eating a spoonful of the soup in front of him. “Are you not eating?” Hansol questions Seungkwan, who sits next to him. The latter sits reclined back in his seat, seemingly watching the entertainment in front of him instead of touching his food.

“I’m alright. If I eat too much in one sitting I get slow.” He nods, reaching for his cup.

“What do you mean ‘slow’?” Junhui pokes, gaze shifting from Soonyoung to Seungkwan for a moment and then down to the food on the older’s plates. “But if you’re not going to eat…”

“Go for it,” Seungkwan scoots the tray forward with his elbow, passing it over to Junhui as his hand is still occupied with his cup. “As long as I’ve got makgeolli, I’m alright.” 

“Sounds like I’m going with makgeolli too,” Mingyu sighs and passes a few plates from his tray onto yours after noticing that most of your food was already eaten.  

“You don’t have to—” you begin to protest before Seungkwan speaks up again.  

“Don’t worry about eating too much or being a freeloader,” he says, a weird bubbling of guilt arising in your stomach. 

“I understand but I can’t help but feel a little bad…” You state as you look down to the newly acquired plates in front of you.  

“If you’re going to let that get to you, you’re never going to get anything you want,” Hansol says pointedly, continuing to eat the mix of soup in front of him.  

“A- alright,” you nod, picking up your utensils again and beginning to pick at the newfound food on your tray. Because you never had much contact with others during the daytime, it makes having dinner with the captains something of an entertaining and frightening experience every night. But it’s fun. A small smile curls onto your lips at the thought of some normalcy for a moment when you hear Mingyu speak again.

“You know we’re not going to hurt you, right?” He’d seen your smile, probably seeing it as you begin to relax, and he seeks to soothe your anxieties about them even more so. His own lips have a soft smile of their own, an honesty brimming with it. Maybe they’d all been trying to put you at ease with their antics.  

It was troublesome to navigate, you have conflicted feelings about staying with them and taking up their time and resources, but it isn’t as if you have much of a choice. They seemed to realize that too and instead of scorning you for it, were trying to make the best of it.  

But before you could ponder on the notion for much longer, Song Eunseok enters the room.  

“Captains?” He asks somewhat quietly, but the noise of his arrival had turned all heads towards him. “Do you have a moment?” Voice soft as usual, his eyes teem with a quiet anxiety that you hadn’t ever seen during your brief acquaintance with him. The gaiety that had once erupted in the room comes to a fizz as he begins to speak once more, “I’ve just gotten a letter from Sabi, Seungcheol’s been gravely injured during a skirmish.” 

Your brows raise as Seungkwan shouts out, “What the hell happened?!”  

“A group of Baekje revivalists were laying siege to the chancellor’s home, Seungcheol and Jihoon arrived in time to subdue them, however, Seungcheol was injured at some point during the fight.” 

“Is he going to be alright?” You ask, your hands clenching together, nails digging into the skin.  

“According to Jihoon's letter he is gravely hurt, but the wound is on his left arm.” Eunseok’s teeth gnaw at the insides of his cheek for a moment, “It will be hard for him to draw an arrow or wield a blade but it’s almost certain that he will survive this.”   

“That’s good,” a sigh of relief leaving you, but the air lies tense from the other captains as they await more answers regarding their comrade’s status.  

“Seungcheol should be returning in a few days,” Eunseok nods, a solemn tone to his voice, “I’ll go and talk with Kwak some more regarding the situation, if anything else arises I’ll let you know.” He was already halfway out the door by the time he finished speaking, talking over his shoulder in a bated anxiety to rival that of the rest of the room.  

“An injury so bad he can’t hold a bow or sword?” Hansol almost thinks aloud, “He may have severed an artery. He may never carry a blade again if that’s true…” You now begin to understand the severity of the situation, why the air grew heavy and the voices grew low. “If he were to fight one handed against an opponent of similar skill he would almost certainly lose.”  

“... If push comes to shove he’ll have to take it. Seungcheol’s not just going to give up like that,” Seungkwan frowns, the cup in his hand settling down onto the table in front of him with a small clink before his hands fall into his lap.  

“Don’t say that, Boo,” Junhui’s face mirrors an equal grimace to that of the elder’s. “It’ll look bad if captains start joining the Furies.”  

“... Who?” You question, trying to follow their conversation as best you could but finding yourself lost as they begin to speak of things unknown to you. “The Furies?” 

“Furies,” Soonyoung begins, “They come from something you drink where any injury can be cur—” 

“Soonyoung!” Before you know it, Mingyu is on his feet and striding around you to the young captain. The elder captain’s hand reaches down and pulls up the younger by the front of his robes.  

“Ah—” Soonyoung’s voice catches in his throat, his eyes go wide as if he’s realized he’d said something that he shouldn’t have. 

“You’re overreacting, Kim.” Junhui stands, trying to pry Mingyu’s irontight grasp away from Soonyoung. “It’s my fault anyway, I said something first.” When Mingyu relinquishes Soonyoung’s green robes from his grip, Junhui shoots the younger a sympathetic look, “Sorry.” 

“I should’ve watched myself,” Soonyoung sighs, his hands moving to straighten his now wrinkled garment.  

Junhui’s gaze then turns to you, his tone becoming sterner, “Everything you just heard is something you should never repeat. I know you’re probably curious, but we can’t say anything else about it, so don’t ask.” The cold weight hiding behind his eyes is enough to make you feel uneasy about what you’d just heard. You’re not even sure what they were talking about, but it seems important enough to stay a secret.  

“Those Furies that Soonyoung was talking about are pitiful men,” Seungkwan states as he pushes himself to his feet. His voice held none of the snideness that it normally had, taking on a flatter and emotionless tone. A sate sort of melancholy coming over him, it’s clear he has something on his mind.  

“It’s nothing you have to worry about,” Junhui says to you as he breaks the silence, “So don’t try and get worked up about it.” 

Seeing as you were only a guest of the Hwarang and not an actual member among their ranks, you can understand their secrets. But it doesn’t make you any less curious.  

“Try your best to forget about it,” Hansol warns, not so much to you but to your circumstance, “The more involved you become with our affairs will only put you in more danger.” 

The wall built up between you and the captains was almost tangible at this point, not an easy thing to scale or break through. 

Dinner ended in relative silence, you excused yourself to your room and hurried back to collect your thoughts. You exhale a large sigh as you enter, your mind hopping from the fate of the Hwarang’s colonel to what the Furies were. It reminds you of the rakshasa from the Buddhist texts your father had made you read as a young girl. The phrases ‘something you drink’ and ‘becoming a Fury’ bounce around your skull before you stop yourself. Hansol had asked you to forget, but it feels as if him saying that only makes you want to remember. 

For whatever reason, the Hwarang captains were keeping hush about whatever ordeal was occurring. Was it to protect you? Regardless, sticking your nose into their business would only be detrimental to your stay with them. 

With that in mind you try to clear your head as best you can before slipping into bed and trying to drift off to sleep. 

𝔐𝔞𝔯𝔠𝔥 3𝔯𝔡, 661 – 𝔖𝔥𝔬𝔰𝔥𝔦𝔫 𝔗𝔢𝔪𝔭𝔩𝔢, 𝔎𝔦𝔫𝔤𝔡𝔬𝔪 𝔬𝔣 𝔖𝔦𝔩𝔩𝔞 It’s been a little over two months since you’d joined the Hwarang at the headquarters in Seorabeol. Jihoon and Seungcheol had returned from their expedition to Sabi, but morale among the men was low. For a while after their return, due to Seungcheol’s injury, a few operations within the organization became hectic due to his absence. The wounds he’d acquired were grim, draining most of the goodness in his nature before your very eyes. He’d spend days locked away in his room, the silence deafening to those who would venture in and try to speak to him.  

On the rare occasion that he did leave his room, his temper lay short before he’d barricade himself away in his abode once more. The Hwarang had offered to let him return to his family for recovery’s sake, but he insisted that his duty remain with his compatriots, despite his abysmal attitude.  

Even though you too were holed up away inside of your room, the ways in which the two of you coped with the ordeal were vastly different. Seungcheol was trapped within himself, fallen from whatever pedestal he thought was his to a mere memory of what once was. You, on the other hand, were merely looking for ways to help your hosts.  

In doing so, you now find yourself wandering the halls of the Hwarang’s main building looking for Lee Jihoon, who hopefully has an assignment for you to complete. Much in fashion for the commander, he was nowhere to be seen. You debate on whether it would be impolite to go to his room directly when an unknown soldier walks up to you. 

Their face is unfamiliar to you and they aren’t wearing the blue robes associated with the Hwarang on patrol. There is a chance you’d never seen them before, but by the way they are looking at you, you can surmise that that isn’t the case.  

“You… wouldn’t have happened to have seen Commander Lee… would you?” You ask as they approach, their gait long and almost prideful.  

“And who are you?” They question, looking you over with scathing eyes as if to detect your character, “Mind telling me what you’re doing here?” 

“Oh well… it’s a long story,” you mumble out, noticing their gaze sharpening on you.  

“Don’t make me repeat myself!” Their voice raises, the sternness only growing, “Answer me!” 

Fumbling out your words, you introduce yourself quickly.  

“Hmm,” he ponders, gaze softening ever so slightly, “I heard that the Commander recently acquired an apprentice warrior as a new page, it must be you.”  

“I am,” you respond with faux cocksureness, not realizing that the men had referred to you as an apprentice warrior under the Hwarang.  

“Why don’t you enlighten me on how you came to know the Chief and Commander?” The man’s scrutinizing gaze continues as you straighten your posture, shifting your weight from foot to foot. “I heard you’re from Toehwa-hyeon, but how were you able to squeeze your way in here?” 

“I didn’t ‘squeeze my way in here’,” you retort, not liking how this man was addressing you.

“Judging by how defensive you’re being, it sounds as if I’ve gotten it right.” He almost scoffs at you in disbelief, “This isn’t some place for a common boy without any worth in his duties or on the battlefield to walk in without earning it. I’ll ask you one last time: how did you come to know the Chief and Commander?”  

You stay silent, unsure of how to address him or what answer would be the right one. Yet, before you can begin to formulate a response, he steps forward and grabs the sleeve of your robes, “I, Suh Kangjoon, am asking you a question.” With the way he states his own name, it’s as if he’s trying to signal himself as someone of importance, but you’d never heard the other captains speak of him before. “What makes you think you can ignore me?” Rather than have a calm air as he asked, his tone had almost shifted to that of a petulant child.  

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” A voice barks off to the side, coming from one of the hall’s entranceways. Both Kangjoon and you turn to see Jihoon standing in the doorway, an almost scowl painting his lips as he watches the scene before him. Once Kangjoon had realized it was him, his hand falls away from clutching at your robes and returns to his side.  

“Very well, Commander,” he wets his lips as Jihoon approaches before clearing his throat and speaking once again. “I’m here on business with Gukseon Kwak.” 

“Is that right?” Jihoon’s voice is tipped with a poisonous edge, as if he didn’t fully trust the character in front of you. “He failed to mention that to me.” 

“He wrote to me with special orders to aid him while Colonel Choi is out of commission,” he begins, “I have the letter if you’d like to read it.”

“That’s quite alright,” Jihoon waves him off, “but I think it’d be in your interest to know that Kwak is out on training runs with Kwon’s squadron today.” 

“Then I suppose I’ll have to come back at a later date,” the air of faux civility between the two was nearly palpable, Jihoon doing nothing to hide his distaste whereas Kangjoon only looked at him snidely. The newcomer begins to turn on his heels, heading for the exit before his pace slows and leaves the two of you with a few words, “Is it true that you’ve welcomed him as your page, Commander?” 

“Yes,” Jihoon nods, glancing at you for a moment before returning to look at the other, “but it’s no concern to you.” 

A flash of an uncaring smile, “Forgive me, then. I’ll try not to ask more as it seems to be out of my jurisdiction.” Another step before he stills, “I do, however, question your predisposition toward keeping those from higher ranks close to you,” his eyes widen in faux surprise, “Ah, it seems I’ve forgotten myself, please excuse me.”  

Once the stranger has exited the building, only then do you feel a sigh of relief overcome you. But before you have the chance to dwell on it for too long, Jihoon speaks up. 

“You shouldn’t be walking around the headquarters without my permission, you know.” 

“I understand, Commander, I didn’t mean to cause any trouble,” you begin to apologize. 

“Your presence here isn’t known by the other factions of the Hwarang, only those staying here at Shoshin,” He explains, “be mindful of anyone that isn’t a Hwarang from this sect, understood?” 

“Understood,” you nod. “But, can I ask who that man was?”

“That man is a captain of the Hanseong Hwarang. His name is Suh Kangjoon.” Jihoon looks as if he’s wracking his brain for an adequate description of the man, “His archery and swordsmanship are decent, but he’s well read and has a knack for military tactics.” His voice lowers a bit for his next statement. “He’s cunning, so be careful.” 

“Okay.”

 “Regardless of that,” his voice back to a decent volume as his gaze hardens at you, “if you’re not attending to someone then I fully expect you to stay put in your room.” With that, you suppose, he meant to dismiss you back to your quarters as any strict commander should and would have done. Yet, you still have something to ask of him. 

“I actually wanted to ask you something, Commander,” you start, trying your best to look him in the eye instead of anywhere else, “Staying in my room alone for so long makes me feel utterly useless. Is there anything I can do around the compound to make me feel less-than-adequate while I stay here?” 

“You truly can’t find something productive to do in your room?” Almost as if the sincerity of your prior statement was beginning to make him think, his harsh gaze softens just a bit.  

“Not at all,” you shake your head. 

A sigh, “Very well, then. I’ll talk with the other captains about it, so, until then just be on standby.” His arms cross, his gaze once again turning stern, “This is under the condition that you are to keep yourself from interacting with anyone that is not a Hwarang of Shoshin Temple, alright?” 

“Of course,” you can’t help a small smile curling onto your lips, “But… thank you.” 

The two of you part not long after that, and you find the next day via Eunseok that you’re allowed to freely roam the compound now. Albeit you have a few tasks to help out with; cleaning, laundry, and cooking. It isn’t a glamorous job but it is something you’re accustomed to. 

𝔍𝔲𝔫𝔢 15𝔱𝔥, 661 - 𝔖𝔢𝔬𝔯𝔞𝔟𝔢𝔬𝔩, 𝔎𝔦𝔫𝔤𝔡𝔬𝔪 𝔬𝔣 𝔖𝔦𝔩𝔩𝔞 The air thick with a humidity sweeping in from the coast, the entirety of the Kingdom of Silla lies in mourning after the death of the posthumously named King Taejong Muyeol. With the lauded last year's effort of him uniting both Silla and Baekje, the former kingdom to the west of Silla, hanging over the heads of every citizen, his death felt like a sharp blow to all. For the first few days of the month, the Hwarang had traveled to Banweolseong, the King’s palace, to pay their respects to the fallen monarch, leaving you alone with only Eunseok as company.  

 Once the Hwarang had steadily returned to the compounds, an air of normalcy once again began to hang over the inhabitants and the buildings themselves. Yet, midway through the month, Emperor Gaozong of the Tang dynasty called in aid from Silla to attack the kingdom of Gogoryeo. The kingdom resides to the north, and the Tang emperor wished to pincer it from both sides so that it would fall under either Tang or Silla rule.

Whereas this may have been the wishes of Taejong Muyeol, the new king, Munmu, found issue in sending out an army so close to the prior monarch’s death. Yet, as an almost tributary state to the Tang, Silla was forced to comply by sending soldiers to the front. No members of the Hwarang were called, as they were to remain in their cities and keep patrol when the officers that normally stood guard could not.  

It’s a cooler day of the beginning of summer, you’d just come back to your room with your laundry when Hansol appears at your door. He stands there for a moment, allowing you to put down the basket of clothes in your hands before speaking, “Commander Lee would like a word with you.” 

A wordless nod and you begin to follow after him. Hansol leads you to the main hall, only stopping at the entranceway and gesturing you inside, you step into the room and hear Hansol go in behind you, closing the door after he enters. Looking around, you spot Jihoon, Seungkwan, Mingyu, Junhui and Soonyoung standing around the hall. It seems as if only the captains and you had been summoned for this meeting.  

“I know you’ve been waiting for this, but the time has come to finally let you out,” Jihoon says once everyone’s settled into a comfortable silence.  

Your lips part and you can barely contain the gasp forming in the back of your throat, “Really?” Unable to contain your excitement, you try to compose yourself before speaking again. “So, there really was someone who saw my father in Hwango-dong?” You question, only hearing rumors of someone who’d seen a man with your father’s profile in one of the city’s districts.  

“We’re not sure if it’s true or not,” Jihoon cedes as he nods his head, “It’s our intention to let you verify for us. Considering that you’d recognize him the best out of everyone here.” 

“So, where is this man who said he saw him?”  

“The initial report outlines Jeolin Inn in Hwango-dong, Hansol’s assigned to do a preliminary check.” Both your and his attention turn to the man Jihoon had named. Did this mean that you were to accompany him to check or were you to wait here until after he’d swept the area? 

“That doesn’t mean that Heo is a guest of the inn though,” Kim chimes in. 

“Yeah,” Junhui agrees, “Being sighted in Hwango-dong could just mean he was walking around Seorabeol.”  

“Exactly,” Jihoon sighs, crossing his arms and looking at Soonyoung, Junhui and Mingyu, “That’s why I’m asking the three of you to take her out on your rounds to assist her in her search.” 

“All of us?” Soonyoung’s head tilts in confusion, “We normally split up and go our separate ways on our rounds.” 

Rather than entertaining Soonyoung with a response, Jihoon looks back to you. It was a quiet way to say that they were still in charge of looking over you, needing to make sure you wouldn’t try and make a break for it should they take you out in search for your father. 

“We get what you’re trying to say, Jihoon,” Seungkwan notes, “but I don’t like that you’re making us do all of the babysitting. I thought you were planning on patrolling as well?” The teasing lilt to his voice returns, “So, for your benefit why don’t you show your adorable page the ropes by taking her out with you?”

 “Aren’t you the one who pushed her onto me?” Jihoon scoffs, “I’m not taking any of your shit today, Boo. She isn’t my page.” 

“Maybe she is, maybe she isn’t, but a lot of the wang-do are beginning to believe it.” Seungkwan notes, crossing his own arms. “There’s always a grain of truth in every lie, so why don’t you give her a job already?” 

As the two continue their stalemating conversation, Mingyu moves to your side and whispers something to you, “Seorabeol isn’t the safest place right now, as you know, so you don’t have to force yourself to leave. I mean we all know what your dad looks like, so it’s not just your risk alone to bear.”  

It seems like you could either explore where your father had last been seen, patrol the surrounding area, accompany Jihoon as his page, or stay here, from what Mingyu had suggested.  

“Then let me be your page, Jihoon,” you say as Mingyu backs away from your side.  

The commander looks at you, something of a distressed light in his eyes, “What?” His voice trembles irately as if the thought of you accompanying him troubles him.  

“I mean, walking around town with you may help with getting leads to find my father, right?” You suggest, adding on seconds later, “And if the wang-do are questioning my place, wouldn’t it be in our best interest for me to act like your page? It might convince them.” 

Jihoon’s expression sours at your words, “There’s no need to take Seungkwan’s words at face value you know, he likes to mess around and have fun with his wor—”  

“Now aren’t you happy to have a cute little page?” Seungkwan smirks as Jihoon stares at him bitterly for cutting him off.  

“Very well,” Jihoon frowns and looks back to you, “you better make sure you stay out of my way though.” 

After nearly five months since your arrival at the Hwarang headquarters, you’re finally able to leave it. The world has changed, green leaves and flowering blooms greeting you as you and Jihoon make your way through the streets of the city. It was more alive than you had left it earlier in the year. 

“I don’t know how it ended up this way,” Jihoon grumbles to himself as the two of you walk through the crowds of Seorabeol. “But I can’t not keep my word…” He keeps himself a few paces in front of you, his mood and tone keeping you somewhat on edge. His attitude had the ability to dictate your own inner thoughts, to question if it really was your place to be here with him.  

As the two of you pass by what looks to be a tea shop, you hear a voice call out to Jihoon. 

“Commander!” A man looking similar in age to you shouts and makes his way over. He doesn’t wear the blue robes that Jihoon had donned in order to patrol the streets, but with the way he was received, it seems like he was a friend. “I have a report that needs to be disclosed as soon as possible.” But if he had called Jihoon ‘Commander’, wouldn’t he still have to be a part of the Hwarang? 

The man steps forward and whispers something into Jihoon’s ear. Jihoon’s eyes widen and then his face goes blank before he turns to you, “I have an urgent matter to attend to.” He looks to the shop you’d stopped in front of, “I’m entrusting you to stay here and ask about Heo.”

“You want me to stay here alone…?” You question, glancing at the shop, “Would that be alright with you?” 

Jihoon stares at you for a moment as if he’s trying to decipher any of your hidden thoughts, “Did you plan on accompanying me just so you could run away?” The pit of your stomach drops at his words. 

“Of course not!” You defend yourself. 

“Then don’t bother me with asinine questions,” he sighs, “Do what I told you and wait here for me to come back, okay?”

 “Okay.”  

And just like that, Jihoon and the newcomer race down the street away from you. Your eyes once again travel to the tea shop, a sigh escapes you before you head inside. The heavy smell of tea rises from every corner of the room, several patrons sit at small tables discussing various topics as you enter. But you aren’t there for that. So, you make your way over to the shopkeeper and inquire about your father.  

Asking him had given you no leads, nor had asking any of the customers coming in or leaving the shop over the course of the next hour. It seemed as if no one knew about your father’s whereabouts. You now sit at a table in the shop, the tea in front of you becoming cold as fragments of leaves swirl around the small cup.  

“The Hwarang are here to conduct a search!” A familiar voice booms at the entrance of the shop, “Everyone, remain calm. Who’s the shopkeeper here?” The last you’d seen this man, he hadn’t been wearing the blues of the Hwarang. It is Suh Kangjoon, one of the captains of the Hwarang’s Hanseong unit, what was he doing here? 

“I’m the owner here,” the frail voice of the elderly man who you’d questioned earlier speaks up, “What is the meaning of your visit?” 

A small ‘tch’ before Kangjoon continues, “I shouldn’t even have to explain myself… It’s been brought to my attention that you’ve allowed Baekje revivalists to conduct their business within this shop.” His voice forceful, unabiding, “What exactly are you plotting? If you don’t answer me, I’ll be forced to take you to headquarters where you will be questioned.” 

“That’s absurd!” The shopkeeper exclaims, “I would never allow that here.” 

“Oh? Then are you questioning the credibility of the Hwarang?” Kangjoon frowns, his eyes narrowing at the elderly man. 

 “Of course I’m not,” sweat begins to glisten on the elderly man’s brow, seemingly terrified at the respect that Kangjoon was asking from him. Kangjoon then scans the store, looking at the patrons, you manage to look away before he has the chance to recognize you.   

“It’s in our best interest to let local shops run unimpeded,” Kangjoon says, his attention returning to the shopkeeper. “So, depending on how well you… cooperate with us, perhaps I could make this little disturbance disappear.” 

“Are you implying…” The shopkeeper's voice dies down before he finishes the thought.

“I’m only suggesting that it would be beneficial to you to share some of your… goodwill.” A coy smile etches itself onto Kangjoon’s lips. Although it isn’t explicitly said, it’s clear that he is soliciting a bribe. 

“I— I can’t afford something like that,” the shopkeep cries out, “There isn’t even anything suspicious happening here!”  

“Hmm?” Kangjoon says, “You’re refusing to help the Hwarang? We’re the protectors of Silla, you know.” 

“I would never do such a thing!”  

“If you refuse to cooperate then I’ll have to take you back to headquarters,” Kangjoon’s voice grows even more stern, “You must be a Baekje sympathizer.”  

“N- No, I’m not!” The man protests.  

The whole conversation makes you feel sick to your stomach, you’re about to speak out when someone puts their hand on your shoulder, rendering you unable to move from your seat. 

“Shh,” they say, their voice rather soft and melodic in your ear as they continue, “Someone like you shouldn’t get involved in such a dangerous situation. He won’t hesitate to cut down anyone in his way.” By the way he looks, you could think him to be some sort of stage actor, but with the sword hanging by his side you know he isn’t as such. “Just leave this to me.” The softness of his voice calms you, and you sit back down in your seat before watching him proceed. 

“Can I ask something?” The stranger says as he walks towards Kangjoon and the shopkeeper, his eyes trained on the malefactor. “You’re with the Hwarang, right?” 

Kangjoon turns, obviously surprised that someone would interrupt him in this situation.  

“I am, why does that matter to you?” He questions with a sneer.  

“The owner of this tea shop has clearly stated he isn’t allowing any Baekje revivalists to meet here,” the stranger says calmly. “So, with what charges were you going to place on him to allow you to question him at your headquarters?” 

“How dare you question me like this,” Kangjoon frowns, “You must be one of those revivalists, right? I should’ve known you’d turn up.” 

“Just because I question you, I’m an enemy?” The man sighs out, “I suppose a fair investigation is out of the question.” 

“You are preventing me from delivering the Crown’s justice, which is enough proof for me,” Kangjoon nods. 

“Very well, then,” The man nods, “If things are going to escalate, would you mind heading outside? I wouldn’t want to upset anyone here.” 

“You sound afraid of getting your pretty little face bloodied up,” Kangjoon scoffs, “Not surprising.” 

Kangjoon then puffs up his chest following the other man outside the store to challenge him to a fight. You quickly follow the pair and watch the scene unfold. Kangjoon’s smirk remains on his face as the two meet each other. He begins to reach for his blade to threaten the newcomer, assuming an offensive stance. 

Yet, before he can pull the blade from its sheath, the other man moves to cover the scabbard’s mouth.  

“Let go! Or else—” Kangjoon shouts before the other begins to speak. 

“You weren’t really going to draw your sword, were you?” The man questions with a small smile and tilt of his head. “If you were, then things between us may get serious, and I’m not sure you’re ready for that.” The duality of the man is easy to see: one side a soft spoken and gentle face; the other is clearly a fighter.  

Suh Kangjoon must feel this duality, because after the man says his piece, he makes no move to draw his blade. A crowd had begun to form around the two men, curious as to what the incident was and what would happen.  

“It seems as if we’re drawing in a crowd,” the man notes. “Are you still planning on fighting?” 

“I never forget a face,” Kangjoon huffs and angrily shakes off the man’s hand. “I will make you live to regret this day.” His face flush with an unholy fury, he spins on his heels and disappears into the crowds of the street.  

The tension from the moments prior dissipates, the crowd surrounding the pair is beginning to dissolve as well. You breathe a sigh of relief as things haven't come to a bloodied fight.  

“That could’ve been ugly,” the man notes, turning his head from watching his opponent saunter off towards you, “Let’s go inside and check on the shopkeeper.”  

“Are you okay?” You ask, there hadn’t been a fight but you’re not sure you could’ve stood up to Kangjoon in that way. 

“Yes,” he nods, “that was nothing.” 

“Why were you willing to risk your life like that against him? You didn’t have to stop me.”  

A slight pink tinges his cheeks as he answers timidly, “To be honest, you reminded me of someone from a long time ago.” 

“Me?” Perplexion in your voice as the comment settles strangely inside you. 

“Yes,” he nods, a small smile on his lips, “you even get flustered like them.” He studies your face for a moment, noting a few things that must be similar to the person he knew. Even if that is somewhat flattering, you still have no idea who this man is. 

“You must’ve mistaken me for someone else,” You bow slightly, and he looks a little taken aback.  

“My apologies, then,” he chuckles, “It seems as if I’m simply mistaken.” He glances towards the shop entrance, “Let’s go back inside, I’m sure your tea and snacks are ruined by now.” His demeanor is overtly gentle, nearly impossible to resist as he draws you back into the shop. 

Upon entering the store, the owner smiles and brings the two of you freshly brewed tea. And once seated back down at your table, you realize there are an assortment of treats waiting for you that hadn’t been there prior. 

“You didn’t have to do this—” the man says to the shopkeeper. 

“Please don’t worry about it,” the elderly man smiles, setting the pot down atop your table as the younger man takes a seat across from you. “You saved me and my shop today, it’s the least I can do.” 

“It was nothing,” the man says shyly, “I didn’t do anything to deserve such kindness. But thank you, I love sweets.” 

“Don’t be shy and have as much as you want,” the owner seems to bow after every sentence, returning to the counter after he’d finished to attend to his other customers.  

“Would you like some?” The man asks and offers out the plate of snacks to you. 

“I think the owner means for you to eat all of this,” you note, you’d feel guilty if you’d indulged in the treats.  

“If you say so,” the man says, setting down the plate and picking up one of the tteok. A smile overcomes him as he enjoys the treat, you’re not sure if you’d ever seen a warrior smile this much. Yet, with every bite he grins like a small child, almost as if he were the happiest man alive. By now you assume it’s safe to surmise that you were close in age with the way he is conducting himself. 

“I suppose it’s time for me to pay my tab,” the man says once he’s finished his tea and a few of the snacks from the plate. He moves to stand, saying something to you as he does, “I’ll be leaving now. Please be careful and try your best to avoid trouble, okay?” 

He leaves before you have the chance to respond, drifting from the store like a ghost after he’d finished paying his bill. The man had given you little to no time to thank him for his actions earlier, so you stand from your table and rush outside to try and find him.

 “Wait!” You call out to him as you race through the exit.  

He’d stopped in his tracks when he’d heard you shout after him, turning on his heels to face you, “Is something wrong?” 

“Thank you for earlier,” you bow down, “You probably saved my life.” 

He chuckles almost humbly as you stand back up, “I really didn’t do anything to warrant this much of a thanks.” His gaze wanders from you to look down the street, “Although it does seem like the Hwarang are losing their grip on some of their members… If today’s incident was any indication of that, I can’t blame people for losing trust in them.”  

“Ah,” you frown, wondering how much people like Kangjoon were responsible for that distrust. “Kangjoon is a cruel man, I don’t think most of the Hwarang would ever treat someone like that. Even if someone’s born a noble, or even joins the Hwarang, it doesn’t automatically make them a good person.” 

“I know,” he looks back at you and nods solemnly, “I don’t think that he represents what the Hwarang stands for at all.” The man continues to look at you for a moment, searching your eyes as if they held a key to something. It looks as if he has something to say, but before he lets it slip past his lips he turns back to the street, he calls out your name before speaking once again, “I guess I’ll be on my way.” 

Your eyes widen as he begins to walk. How did he know your name? The man turns his back fully to you and begins to walk away, disappearing in the thicket of people on the street. You don’t have much time to question who that man was and why he seems to know you before you see Jihoon in the distance, stalking towards the tea shop.  

“Sorry for making you wait so long,” the commander frowns, looking towards the shop as he stops in front of you, “Did you find out any information about your father?” 

You shake your head at him, a small frown coating your lips, “Nothing.”

 “I see,” he sighs, “It’s not like people around here are very prone to talking, either. Don’t let that get you down.”

As the sun begins to make its descent into the sky, the two of you begin to walk back to the Hwarang’s headquarters. You begin to fill him in on what had happened at the tea shop, a scowl forming as he mulls over what you say.

“Kangjoon did what?” It was a palpable rage exuding from him, but not to the extent he needed to lash out at someone. “Don’t tell anyone about what happened today, not even the captains. Alright?” You nod as he continues, “It’s nothing you haven’t heard before but never let your guard down, especially around people you don’t know. The Hwarang has to protect its secrets, sometimes even from its own members. Especially from that idiot.” Sensing that he was talking about Kangjoon, you nod once again.

After that he continues to prod more questions from you about the events earlier in the day. “You mentioned that a soldier, or someone like that, came to your aid in the tea shop. Do you know anything about him?”

Eyes widening as you realize, “I didn’t even ask him his name…”  

“How the hell am I supposed to thank him now?” Jihoon sighs out frustratedly.

 “It all happened so fast I barely had time to catch my own breath,” you try to explain, mentally scolding yourself for your carelessness.  

“I… that’s understandable. If you happen to cross paths again, ask for his name.” He mutters something out under his breath, “Despite that, I’m sorry we didn’t get any relevant information about your father today. Hopefully either Captain Choi or Wen found something of note.” 

 Upon returning to the compound, it was relayed to you that the sighting of your father at the Inn had been false. It pierced you as the sliver of hope you had of finding your father soon slipped quickly and quietly from your grasp. 

𝔍𝔲𝔩𝔶 7𝔱𝔥, 661 – 𝔖𝔥𝔬𝔰𝔥𝔦𝔫 𝔗𝔢𝔪𝔭𝔩𝔢, 𝔎𝔦𝔫𝔤𝔡𝔬𝔪 𝔬𝔣 𝔖𝔦𝔩𝔩𝔞 Kwon Soonyoung and Boo Seungkwan stand in the great hall as you enter. The past few weeks had given you no information on the whereabouts of your father, despite you going on patrol rounds with the different Hwarang captains. You assume the information, or lack of, was the reason for your summoning today by Lee Jihoon. Although the presence of the other two Hwarang captains makes you feel somewhat more relieved that you wouldn’t have to face the demon commander alone.  

“You asked to see me?” There’s a sour look on Jihoon’s face as you ask, something clearly eating away at him.  

“It’s about your father,” he begins, and you perk up for a moment. Jihoon’s frown stays on his face as he looks at you, a sinking feeling in your stomach as you can already tell you won’t like what he says. “I think it’s best we stop searching for him for the time being.” 

“Why?” You can hardly stop yourself from blurting out the question. You’d only been able to search for him for what felt like a handful of weeks, if you were to stop now there was a major possibility you could lose any leads you have.  

Jihoon remains collected, his arms crossing as he speaks again, “We have reports of activity from Baekje loyalists. It would be more than foolish to let you wander the streets in search of your father at a time like this.” 

 You recall your encounter a month ago with Kangjoon at the tea shop. He’d been in search of Baekje spies… was the issue really becoming that bad? It was surely one thing to lose one’s homeland, but Silla had been nothing but civil to the former kingdom’s people, or so you’d heard.  

“Then, are you asking me to stay here until things are resolved with the loyalists?” You question with a tilt of your head, unable to hide the disappointment in your voice.  

The commander nods before turning to Soonyoung and Seungkwan, “That being said, as for now she isn’t to accompany any captain on their rounds.” 

“So that’s why you pulled us in here?” The question is more like a musing as it falls from Soonyoung. It seems like he too hadn’t known why he was called here, and it was now beginning to click. “You know, she’s never caused any issues when we took her on our rounds… It feels kind of bad now that she can’t tag along.” 

“Mhm,” Seungkwan nods, “even if something were to happen, as long as she’s not hopping into the fray it should be alright. Besides,” he smirks at you, “it’s not like she could outrun us if she tries to escape.”

 “I won’t run,” you protest firmly, knowing that he was fully joking. Eyes lingering on Seungkwan for a moment before you look back to Jihoon, “I made a promise when I agreed to stay here. I promised I’d look for my father, I can’t hold myself to that if you won’t let me.” 

“Staying with us is putting yourself at risk,” Seungkwan shrugs in your periphery, “if you don’t mind that, I don’t mind you joining us.” His gaze travels to Jihoon, his lips parting, “We’ve had witness reports, I don’t see why we should stop looking when we still have information coming in.” 

“You might have a point, Boo. But are witness reports a justifiable reason to put her in harm’s way?” The commander rebukes, his hands falling to his sides. “By taking her out with us, we’re placing an unnecessary burden on our shoulders.” 

“If I lose the opportunity to search for my father,” fists clenching at your sides, your nails digging into the skin of your palms, “then any future chances of finding him will be nearly impossible.” 

Jihoon looks at you, eyes searching yours, his gaze hardening. You think he’s about to refute you before he starts speaking again. “You need to follow the orders of every captain you’re on patrol with. No sidetracking them. Am I clear?”

 “Yes,” you nod, “of course.” Unsure of how to show your gratitude, you bow towards him. 

“I’m not going to be the one ordering you to join them,” the commander huffs as you rise, “that’s up to your discretion.” 

By the way that the commander spoke, it seems as if he doesn’t want you to leave the compound for whatever reason. You’re unsure what’s caused the full shift in his attitude towards you accompanying the men out on patrol, but for now it’s probably your best bet to stay within the compound for the time being. 

After a few quiet goodbyes, you return to your room. Jihoon’s words of caution reside in your eardrums, you know they’d plague you should you have chosen to go out with either Soonyoung or Seungkwan. So, until that beast of guilt renders itself immobile, you’ll hole yourself up in the headquarters. Staying inside doesn’t make you happy, it reminds you of the first few weeks you’d spent here. Alone and outcast in a world of unfamiliar faces.  

Yet, unlike a few months ago, you now had free roam of the buildings and grounds. Now you find yourself exiting your room, heading towards one of the courtyards littered around the headquarters’ interior.  A soft, summer breeze drifts through the almost-gardens as you enter. The sickly-sweet smell of the decaying flowers from the spring hitting your nose.  

You sit in the courtyard for a while, the soft gusts of wind eventually dying down and forcing you to take the heat of the sun in all its glory. A sheen of sweat coats your brow as you look towards the white clouds in the sky that refuse to block out the sun.  

With little to think about in your ponderance, your thoughts shift from the now blistering heat to your father. You hadn’t thought about it much since your arrival, but the Hwarang had heard of him. Had they been patients of his? Or perhaps he was talking of diseases and how to prevent them the best they could… 

The more you think on the subject, the more a pinpoint of a headache begins to grow. You know that the Hwarang have enough secrets without the aid of your father, but you’re not doubtful that your father may be the cause of some of them. 

“Did they really leave you alone out here?” You jump at the voice behind you, too lost in thought to hear light footsteps approach.  

“Ah,” spinning on your heels, you're met face-to-face with the Hwarang’s colonel. “Seungcheol… is it okay for you to be out here?” Your gaze drops to his bandaged arm, still not yet healed from his wound earlier in the year. 

“It’s not like I need to be bedridden,” he chuckles, gently raising his arm as if to show you it had some movement left within it. “There’s nothing wrong with me.” There was a slight bitterness to his words, almost as if he’d taken a bit of an unripe pear and the taste still lingered on his tongue. “Although I suppose my right hand is…”  

A sad and twisted smile curls onto his lips as he looks down to his still injured hand. It hadn’t healed, and by now he was probably realizing that it probably never would. You recall the other captain’s concern when the news had arrived of Seungcheol’s injury, noting that he’d probably never be able to wield a weapon again.  

“And what are you doing out here?” He questions, the bitterness from his voice gone, “I hadn’t realized you were allowed out of your room.” 

Typically, no one batted an eye nowadays if you were walking around the compound. Yet with the heightened tensions in Seorabeol, you suppose being in your room would put more of the Hwarang at ease. The freedom they’d given you was just as easily revoked. 

“I just wanted some space to think, that's all.” You explain, your hand playing with the fabric of your robes, “I’m sorry.” 

“It’s just that when you sneak around with none of us knowing, it makes it seem like you have something to hide,” Seungcheol’s lips curve downwards as he listens to your explanation. 

 “Then I’ll go back to my room,” you sigh and begin to walk past him.  

Seungcheol’s coldness had begun ever since he’d come back injured. Albeit, you hadn’t known him long enough to gauge his character before that, but there had been a lightness to it that certainly isn’t here now. The loss of mobility in his arm pained him in more ways than physical, more ways than you could possibly begin to comprehend. 

“It’s—” You stop and look back at him, “hot outside today. You shouldn’t stay in the sun too long. Please take care of yourself.” A nervous laugh as you finish, finding him returning something of a lighthearted chuckle. For the first time in weeks, his smile didn’t look forced. “ 

“Thank you,” he nods, the smile still lingering in his voice, “take care of yourself too.” 

You don’t find yourself coming across any of the other captains until later that evening, when the sun’s already sunk halfway down the horizon and a golden glow begins to encapsulate the headquarters. As you’re heading towards the main hall you hear a smattering of footsteps behind you, you turn and see Junhui heading towards you.  

“What… what’s that for?” You question, looking down at his hands where he’s holding what looks to be an embroidery needed and a thin candle.  

“One of those Baekje guys we picked up isn’t really a talker,” Junhui explains, gesticulating wildly with his hands as he speaks. “Jihoon’s with him but doesn’t have the… uh, means to speak with him.” As he sees your eyes widening in realization, he drops his hands behind his back, shielding the objects from vision. “I’ll stop talking and spare you from thinking any more about it.” He lets out a laugh before skirting around you and heading off towards another hallway. 

There was even more commotion by the time dinner rolled around. The halls now darkened save for the braziers and candles that lit the entrances and walls. You’re sitting in your room when stomping once again disrupts your thoughts. 

“Soonyoung!” You call out, having seen his green robes race by your doorway. Almost as quickly as he had shot past, he returns. “Why’s everyone running around tonight?” You ask as he stands in your doorway, trying to hold himself together with deep breaths. “Did that prisoner say something?”

His eyes light up, his chest puffing out almost proudly, “Yeah, Jihoon finally got the guy to break! It looks like they’re having a meeting right now, we’re actually getting ready for a raid.”

“Wouldn’t that be something the army typically does?”

 “It really depends on the severity…” Soonyoung notes, “But since most of the troops are still up in Hanseong, the Crown let us do this.” He goes on to explain that the Hwarang would be dividing themselves into two groups. Youngmin would lead a group of a dozen men to Wonweol Inn and Jihoon would lead twenty-three to Jeolin Inn on opposite ends of the city. “Rumor has it that they’ll be at Jeolin, I’m kind of upset they’re sending me to Wonweol.” 

It seems as if Jihoon’s forces were rearing to see action, Youngmin’s more so just to make sure all their leads were covered.  

“There aren’t enough men to spread out equally?” You ask, wondering why there was such disparity between the numbers. 

Soonyoung nods, “A lot of men get sick right when we need them the most.” The closeness of bunks typically made for unsanitary conditions, making the spread of disease easy. “We sent out word to the Guard but it doesn’t seem like they care all too much,” he sighs, leaning back on his heels.

 Someone shouts out to him before you’re able to wish him luck, he gives you a curt wave before racing back down the hallway. Sometime after the able-bodied men had left, Seungcheol calls for you to meet him in the main hall. 

“As a courtesy, I assume, Jihoon has asked me to protect the headquarters in his absence,” he relays to you once you’ve settled yourself into the hall. “It’s empty for the most part but that’s a reason they may attack us.” 

“Does that mean you’ll protect me?” You question and he laughs almost immediately, his gold-plated earrings clatter together as his head shakes slightly.  

“I’m sure I can be of more use than the men who’ve been confined to their beds.” It isn’t as reassuring as you thought it’d be, but it was at least something. His smile was sad at his words, probably feeling more and more unhelpful as the days progressed. 

The silence between the two of you stays stagnant until a door to one of the halls opens quietly.  

“Colonel Choi,” a man says as he enters, you recognize him as the face who’d pulled Jihoon away from you when you were out on patrol several weeks ago, “We’ve confirmed that the loyalists are meeting at Wonweol.” 

Seungcheol sighs, his voice light but his face holding a certain sternness, “I suppose we’ve bet wrong again.” The Hwarang had been certain that Jeolin would be the place of the meeting and finding out that Wonweol was actually the location was certainly a blow to their plans. 

“Chan,” Seungcheol looks at the newcomer, “can you do me a favor?” 

Chan nods curtly, awaiting his instruction. You’d come to learn of him through the others, while not a resident of Shoshin Temple, he is both a member of the city Watch and an officer of the Hwarang. He’d been made aware of your situation at some point, so you didn’t need to feel as guarded around him as other members of the Hwarang.  

“First, tell Jihoon that the meeting is at Wonweol, he should still be on his way to Jeolin.” Seungcheol begins and then looks to you, “And I’m sorry to put this on you, but I need you to take her with you.” 

Chan’s eyes widen almost as big as yours as you ask, “Why me? Wouldn’t I only slow him down?” 

“Save for Chan here, you’re the most able-bodied person residing in the headquarters,” Seungcheol says, grimacing at his words as the fingers on his right hand twitch, “even if you’re a burden you may just as well save someone’s life.” 

You bite your lip, seeing that Chan was probably thinking the same thoughts that you were. Yet neither of you were able to oppose the colonel.  

“There’s a chance that the loyalists have called for backup,” Seungcheol looks to Chan, “If your message were to be intercepted then you’d never reach Jihoon in time. Do you see what I’m trying to say?” 

Chan nods slowly, piecing together the elder’s thoughts, “If we run into enemy forces, I could hold them off while she delivers the message…”   

“You want me to do what?!” You can’t help but exclaim. It sounded as if the two of you were caught out, Chan would sacrifice himself so that you could escape.  

“Don’t worry too much,” Seungcheol tries to reassure you, “I doubt it will come to that. We’re short of men right now which means I have to ask you to step in. You’ll need to notify the Guard and the Watch as well.” 

“There’s really no one else who can do this?” You ask hesitantly, daunted by what Seungcheol was asking you to do. “What about Jeon?” 

Jeon Wonwoo is another spy in allegiance with the Hwarang, yet he mostly dealt with Yamato forces.

 Seungcheol shakes his head, revealing that Jeon was already with Jihoon’s team heading towards Jeolin. 

As if seeing the nervousness on your face, Chan steps forward and offers you something of a nervous, sheepish smile. “I heard you know a little bit about protecting yourself,” his eyes glance towards the blade tucked away at your waist, “I unfortunately can’t guarantee your safety, but, if you can manage, you’re welcome to join me.” 

Despite the gentle tone he was using, you know he’d kill you the instant you tried to run. This mission took priority over anything and anyone else in his way. 

“I’ll go,” you nod, taking in a deep breath. “I can take care of myself, there’s no need to worry about me.” 

You can see Seungcheol giving you a small smile as Chan steps back. More than anything, you know that Seungcheol wants to join and fight alongside his men, but it is impossible. The least you can do is carry out the mission in his stead.  

“Then we accept your request, Colonel.” Chan nods and begins to head towards the exit with you following closely behind him. He turns to you as you close the door, “Run with all you can.” 

You take off after him, the slow and itching burn rising from your legs the longer you pursue him. It’s as if the streets were plunged into darkness with how little you could see as you raced by, the sound of dirt under foot sliding with every footfall. You’re beginning to see that half a year indoors with little to no vigorous exercise has done something of a toll to your physique, you aren’t as in shape as you’d once been. 

Had you not been paying attention, you may have slammed into Chan, who stopped abruptly after reaching the edge of the street. 

“No matter what you see or hear, follow this street and don’t look back,” he whispers and the hairs on the back of your neck stand on end.

 “Has someone been following us?” 

His head shakes, “You don’t need to know that.” 

Your breaths heavy, knowing full well that he’d make it faster to Jihoon than you, “Chan you should go, I’ll stay behind.” 

He frowns at you, “What could you do by staying behind?” 

“If I distract them then you could slip away,” you push, resisting the urge to take a peek at whatever was coming after the two of you. 

“If we need bait, then it’s going to be me,” his hand reaches for his sword as he looks past you, “Now, run!” 

It takes no time for him to rush behind you and for your legs to kick off from the ground and begin to barrel down the street in front of you. You hear a clatter of blades behind you, thinking that Chan’s already locked in combat before he calls out, “Keep running until you see white!”

 Knees weakened with the adrenaline of it all, you run down the street. You’re sure that the only way you’d be able to stop preemptively was to tear tendon from bone. Even in your haste you felt sluggish, as if everything around you were frozen in time. You run for another two minutes before spotting two silhouettes wearing white robes in the distance, as you near you can see the Commander with Kim Mingyu. 

“What are you doing here?!” Jihoon says angrily, a tinge of surprise coating his words. You could almost cry in relief at seeing the two of them. 

It’s then you notice that they’re not wearing the typical blue robes of the Hwarang, they’ve instead traded the vibrant hue for a pale white. Maybe it’s for better visibility, but you’re not too certain.  

With shaking limbs, you try to step forward, your knees giving way and you begin to fall towards the ground. Mingyu reaches out to hold you up before you collapse entirely.   

“Are you alright?” He asks as he helps you back to your feet. “You know if Jihoon finds out you left the compound without permission he’ll kill you, right?” 

Rather than explain yourself, you focus on regulating your breath. At this moment you were far too winded to express why you’d left. After one, two breaths you take a third long inhale and turn to the commander.  

“They’re meeting at Wonweol,” huffing out in short puffs of air, you try to straighten yourself to the best of your ability. Jihoon’s eyes widen at your words and he turns to Mingyu. 

“I knew they’d be there!” An almost hiss escapes through his clenched teeth as Mingyu stares back at him. 

Hansol, who you hadn’t seen standing off to the side with another group of men, steps forward. “Are you sure?” He questions you, a grave seriousness intertwined with his words.  

“Seungcheol lost his arm, not his brain,” Jihoon says, looking over to Hansol, “if she’s out here looking for us and not hightailing it back to her hometown, then it’s safe to surmise he sent her.” 

“It’s impressive that you found us,” Mingyu mutters, “Seorabeol is a big city, after all.” 

“It was Chan,” you answer, the burning in your lungs slowly residing. “He told me to find you so he could fight against some of the loyalists.” 

“What about the Guard or the Watch, are they on their way?” Jihoon asks, his hand resting atop the hilt of his sword. When you shake your head, you can almost see him trying to piece together their next move.  

“Choi, Kim, take the men to Wonweol,” He instructs, a commandeering veneer to his words. “There’s something I need to do.” 

The two captains nod and turn back to their men to relay the news and inform them of what their new plans were. Before they begin to move, Hansol looks back to you, “The city’s more dangerous tonight than it’s been on any of our rounds. Either stick with Kim and I or go with Lee.” 

It was a relatively easy choice to make, right? You’d stick with Jihoon as the other two seemed to be off to battle. The prospect of being alone with the stoic commander was somewhat intimidating, but it would put you away from the bloodshed. 

The two of you watch the rest of the group form together and head off into the dimly lit streets towards Wonweol Inn. Jihoon doesn’t say anything until the ringing out of the warrior’s footsteps dissipates into the humid nighttime.  

“Good work in delivering that message,” there’s appreciation in his voice as he looks to you, something resembling a small smile pulling at his lips, “That information may have just given us the advantage we need.” An approving comment from the Hwarang’s demon commander was something that you’d never thought you’d hear; it makes your heart pound gleefully for a moment out of sheer shock of the scenario.  

Jihoon and you step from the narrow street and move to one of Seorabeol’s main roads, a deserted place at this time of night. 

“Jihoon?” You ask, feet treading on the grit of the dirt walkways, “Why are we out here?” 

“The Hwarang don’t hide in the shadows like these Baekje loyalists,” He says matter-of-factly and looks down the street as if he’s searching for something, or someone. 

 It doesn’t take long for a figure to appear running towards the two of you. For a moment you think it’s an enemy and begin to reach for the blade at your hip before recognizing a familiar silhouette.  

“You’re alive!” You gasp out, dropping your hand away from your side as the other approaches.  

Chan doesn’t respond to you verbally, only nods his head with a small smile before straightening up and looking at Jihoon. “I assume you’ve been told what's happening at Wonweol? The colonel told me to notify the Guard and the Watch but...” 

“I’ll have more orders for you in a bit,” Jihoon nods in understanding, “Just stay nearby for now.” He then turns to you as Chan slips wordlessly into a nearby alley. “I’ve got to have a word with a few useless assholes.” There was a spark of anger in his voice, a fire dimly beginning to glow brighter in his eyes. The commander then looks past you; you turn and see an oncoming group of Silla soldiers making their way down the street. Jihoon mutters something you can’t make out under his breath as they near. 

You now realize why he’d brought you out into the main road, neither of you would have seen the oncoming troops had you been tucked away in a side street.  

The pace of the oncoming soldiers was lazy, almost unconcerned in a way that miffed you. Shouldn’t they be worried about stopping a near rebellion from a fallen kingdom?  

“The Hwarang are still fighting at Wonweol… aren’t they?” You ask into the nighttime, a strange fear gripping you as the dwindled numbers of the Hwarang were putting their lives at stake to quell this disturbance. Didn’t these men before you have some, if not more, responsibility to quash it?   

Perhaps the anger and disbelief in your voice was more present than you thought, as Jihoon lets out a small chortle of laughter, “Don’t worry about it, I’ll make sure they stay in line.” He steps out further into the street, directly in front of the group that was now only several meters in front of him. 

All he did was move away from you and face them, but he now holds an aura of authority that hadn’t been there moments prior.  

“The Hwarang are currently conducting an official investigation of Wonweol Inn,” he calls out as they stop before him, his voice echoing around the surrounding buildings. “You will not interfere or enter the Inn.”  

Even you could see the grumblings of protest beginning to stir in the movements of the soldiers when Chan appears from the shadows once more and begins to speak quietly to you, “If Jihoon lets those men walk into Wonweol, they’ll get the credit for subduing the revivalists.”  

“How could they…?” You ask, looking towards Chan. “It’s the Hwarang who are risking their lives for this mess.” 

“It’s more political than just the Hwarang or the soldier taking credit,” Chan sighs as Jihoon continues to shout orders to the soldiers. “Jihoon’s adoptive father’s high ranking in the court’s aristocracy, so are a few of the other captain’s fathers. The Hwarang, in a way, represent them and the soldiers here represent the more military-inclined families. In the end it’s not the question of whether it was the Hwarang or the guard who subdued the loyalists, but which families were behind the winning team, in the Crown’s eyes.” 

“That’s…” Convoluted. Confusing. Complex. Insane. Elaborate. “A lot.” 

Chan must’ve been able to see the confusion in your gaze as he laughs to himself, “That’s only scratching the surface. But it shows the utter disrespect each side has from one another and I expect it won’t be resolved any time soon.” Both of your gazes travel back to the commander at the front of the guard, “Jihoon’s single handedly protecting the Hwarang right now. If we allow them to get to the Inn, they’ll lionize themselves.” 

You can see that Chan thinks highly of Commander Lee in the way he admirably talks of his staunch resolution in doing what’s best for the Hwarang.   

It seems as if Jihoon’s startling tactic was beginning to wane as a few soldiers began to protest his declaration. 

“If you really think you can fit nearly, what, one hundred men?” Jihoon’s eyes scan the lines of soldiers for a moment, “If you think you can fit all of them into Wonweol, you’re insane. The best you can do with these numbers is surround it and make sure no one escapes.” He’s trying to dissuade them; you wonder if they can see it as clearly as you. “Unless you really want to lead your men to the slaughterhouse. There’s already a fight happening, and if you value your lives, I’d suggest you stay put.”

The head official leading the troops relents, stepping away from Jihoon as he finds no room for argument against the commander of the Hwarang. Jihoon stays in front of the troops until a member of the Hwarang finds you all standing there, claiming that the battle has ended. 

Jihoon, Chan and you had returned to the compound as the first wave of Hwarang were returning from the skirmish. The fight had only lasted a matter of two hours, but to you it had felt like much longer. There had been nearly two dozen revivalists congregating at the inn, the Hwarang had ended up killing seven of their members and injuring four more of them.

Chan tells you later in the night that, with the aid of the Guard and Watch, sixteen more people in the city were arrested in relation to the Wonweol incident. The owner of the inn had also been arrested as he was aiding in the escape of several of the loyalists.  

The Hwarang had prevailed, despite having the weaker numbers, in an incredible victory. Yet, with that victory also came some losses. Seungkwan had taken a blow to the chest and fell unconscious shortly after, Soonyoung had been cut across his forehead and the bleeding hadn’t relented, Junhui had injured his hand in a brawl, one Hwarang had lost his life and two others were severely injured. It didn’t seem as if the last two would make it the week due to the severity of their injuries. 

With the quelling of the revivalist by Hwarang hands, it seems as if the group were now in a more favorable light with the Crown. As well as with the court members who vied for the organization’s success. 

𝔍𝔲𝔩𝔶 8𝔱𝔥, 661 – 𝔖𝔥𝔬𝔰𝔥𝔦𝔫 𝔗𝔢𝔪𝔭𝔩𝔢, 𝔎𝔦𝔫𝔤𝔡𝔬𝔪 𝔬𝔣 𝔖𝔦𝔩𝔩𝔞 “Thanks for patching me up,” Junhui smiles at you as you finish tying together the bandage wrapped around his hand. “You’re pretty skilled at this.”

“It’s no problem,” you smile at him, rolling the remaining gauze together. “You should really take it easy, though– So your wound doesn’t reopen.”

“Ah,” Junhui frowns, “As soon as you’re done here, I’m supposed to go looking for the revivalists that escaped.”

“I see…” You understand that it was of the utmost importance that the Hwarang find them, but as the daughter of a physician you can’t help but worry about your patients. 

“Have you heard anything about Soonyoung and Seungkwan? Have they woken up yet?” He asks as he rises to his feet.

“They’re awake,” you nod, packing away the gauze into a bag used for medical supplies. “Their wounds aren’t that bad, but being kicked in the stomach and slashed on the forehead are still pretty serious. There may be repercussions that we can’t see, like internal bleeding.”

“To think it was enough to make Seungkwan cough blood,” he sighs as you stand, a stern expression hardening his features. 

Suddenly, the door to the room slides open and Mingyu bursts in, his eyes looking frantically around at the other aides before settling on you, “Are you free? There’s a warrior who’s in pretty bad shape.”

“Of course!” You nod and quickly follow after him. Many Hwarang were injured after the incident at Wonweol and you made a promise to treat and nurse them the best you can. 

Before you realize it, dusk sweeps over the compound. Your eyes are heavy with the sleep you forwent the night prior. For the first time in hours, there was no one for you to treat, but that still doesn’t mean there isn’t work to do. Once you leave one of the injured Hwarang’s rooms, you go to find the others and get direction about what or who to focus on next. Yet, as you close the door behind you, you hear footsteps approaching. 

“There you are!” Jihoon says, “There’s a captain’s meeting in the main hall in a few minutes. I’m sorry to bother you when you’ve just cleaned up, but can you make tea for us all?”

“Of course,” you say quickly, stifling a yawn. “I’ll bring some right away.”

A handful of minutes later you find yourself with a tray in hand, a steaming pot of tea and several cups adorning the surface as you make your way into the main hall. Upon entering, you see the captains reunited. 

“Here you all go,” you say quietly so as to not disturb them and set about handing everyone a cup and pouring them a serving. 

“Thank you,” Youngmin smiles gratefully as he picks up his cup. 

Apparently, you’ve come in just as the captains are about to give their reports of their rounds earlier today. 

“There was no sign of revivalist activity during my rounds with my division earlier,” Hansol reports. 

“I’m sure word has already spread about the incident last night,” Jihoon muses, “I thought they’d be out for blood but I guess I’m wrong.”

“We can’t let our guard down,” Seungcheol reminds him, “They may be waiting until it’s dark again to make a move.”

“A valid point,” Youngmin agrees.

“You just got back from a meeting with the Guard, right?” Mingyu asks him, “What’d they say?”

“Ah…” Youngmin sighs, “They want their own warriors to accompany us on our rounds to catch the remnants of the loyalists.”

“No way,” Junhui nearly spits in anger, “They just want the fame for when we catch them!”

“Precisely.” Seungcheol nods, “If Commander Lee hadn’t stopped them from entering the Inn last night, the Crown would be praising them.”

“Whatever the reason, I cannot refuse an order coming from the Guard with the Crown backing them.” Youngmin looks to Jihoon, “So, I’d like to charge one of you with the rounds in cooperation with their warriors.”

“Not me,” Junhui says almost immediately, “I don’t know them, nor do I want to be responsible for their lives if things do come to a head.”

“Me either,” Mingyu adds, “My tongue may slip and I might say something unsavory to those opportunistic bastards.”

“That’s not… very helpful…” Youngmin sighs, “Hansol…?”

Suh Kangjoon interrupts before Hansol can even open his mouth, “Wait, Chief. Please entrust the Guard warriors to my division. I fully understand how important this mission is to undertake.” He snidely glares at Mingyu and Junhui before continuing, “The other captains don’t seem to have a grasp on the situation, probably because they lack the education and politicking.”

“I dare you to repeat that–!” Mingyu says angrily, nearly rising to his feet.

“If you’re looking for a fight, come with us and get your ass kicked,” Junhui frowns. 

“Calm down,” Kangjoon says almost in a way to belittle them. “I’ll give you a simple rundown. Of course the Guard wants to make sure we don’t get full credit. But they also want to make sure we’re not trying to take their place. So it is vital to us that what they see and hear about the Hwarng presents us in a good light.”

Slowly nodding in agreement, Youngmin looks to the Commander and Colonel, “Jihoon, Seungcheol, you’re on board?”

“Suh is so admirably dedicated to the Hwarang,” Seungcheol says.

“Fine.” Jihoon waves, “Suh, you’re in charge of the Guard. But I don’t want any fuss.”

“I won’t cause any,” Kangjoon says with a sly smile. 

“If you encounter any loyalists, make sure not to let them slip through your fingers.” Seungcheol warns, “If a mistake is made in front of the Guard, all the work we put into the success of Wonweol will be for nothing.”

“I give my word as a Suh,” Kangjoon says, although he seems already eager to leave. “The interests of the Hwarang always come first.

July 12th - Shoshin Temple, Kingdom of Silla

A few more days passed without any incident, but a rumor has begun to spread that the Guard are going to do something to retaliate for the praise they could have gotten from Wonweol. Everyone at the compound is walking on eggshells. 

Even with everyone on edge, there are still things for you to be doing. So, you find yourself sweeping off the entranceway of the temple as the sun just begins to sink into the sky. Most of the warriors that pass nervously glance left and right every time they move. There haven’t been any incidents or injuries on the rounds, and yet the question remains in the air every time someone heads out: Will they come back safely?

“What are you doing outside?!” Mingyu’s voice makes you nearly jump out of your skin. 

“Captain Kim–!” You breathe deeply to calm yourself, “Did something happen? You look on edge.”

“Of course I am when I see you like that. It’s dangerous!” He motions you to return inside, “Cleaning can wait.”

“Then something happened?” You take a step forward, you knuckles tightening around the grip of the broom. 

“Ah,” he shakes his head, “I’m actually not sure myself, but the Watch might retaliate.”

“The Watch?” Your eyebrows raise as you follow him inside.

“I’ll explain but let’s get moving first.”

You follow him to the main room where Jihoon, Youngmin, and Seungcheol sit with sour faces. Kangjoon stands before them, pale as a ghost. Has something happened on the rounds?

“Dammit, Suh!” Jihoon shouts angrily enough that it looks as if the earring on his right ear may come flying off. “Fuck! I warned you, I insisted like a hammer to a nail but congratulations! You did a hell of a job.” Furious sarcasm drips from his words as Seungcheol disrupts his tirade with a cough to change the tone.

“Explain yourself, Captain Suh.” Seungcheol says with calm fury. “What are your thoughts on this situation?”

“It’s a huge misunderstanding! Please, let me explain myself.” Kangjoon then begins to list a reason of explanations. He and his division had met a suspicious swordsman on their rounds, in an attempt to stop him, Kangjoon had used his swords and injured him, but in the end they discovered that the swordsman was a man of the Watch. “To be fair, if the man had been honest from the start and revealed himself, none of this would have happened.”

“It’s true that trying to stop a swordsman from fleeing can’t be considered a fault…” Seungcheol sighs, “But resorting to using your sword… And all that in front of the Guard representative, who you’ve been entrusted with.” 

“What a mess,” Jihoon frowns, “And the Guard can’t go and pretend they didn’t see anything. And of course, the Watch is going to ask for reparation since it’s their guy who got injured… Damn it. Why is this shit always happening to us?”

“May I have a word?” Lee Chan steps forward and whispers something into Jihoon’s ear.

“He what?!” Jihoon’s eyes go wide.

“I got the information from a source within the Watch. He died earlier today.” Chan says and steps back a few feet.

“That’s awful,” Jihoon says with a ‘tch’, “We’d better keep our heads low for a while and see if we’ve got the situation under control.” He rises from sitting with a sigh, “Gukseon Kwak and I will head to both the Guard and the Watch to apologize.”

“It would be wise for us to go to them rather than wait for their direction,” Seungcheol nods in agreement. 

“Suh, you’re coming too.” Jihoon glances at the captain, “We’ll leave as soon as we’re ready.”

“Ah… You… You want me to come…?” Kangjoon looks stunned. “But what if they consider me guilty as well…? Being ordered to–”

Jihoon lets out a bark of a laugh before turning fully to Kangjoon, shouting at him, “You’re taking responsibility for your actions! Now get the fuck out and get ready!”

Even though you’re only listening to what’s happening and have no part in it, you can see and feel how stressful and hectic the situation is. Why had the Watch soldier killed himself? Perhaps they had their own code of laws like the Hwarang did the O Gye. But it seems a bit exaggerated to have done that over something like this.

You follow the men out to the front of the compounds with the other captains to see them off.

“Well then, let’s get going.” Youngmin says and looks to Seungcheol, “Colonel Choi, the headquarters are now in your hands.”

“...Chief, Colonel, Commander!” Kangjoon says as he stands before them once more, “I never meant to cause trouble for the Hwarang. Please believe me!”

“It’s not us who are going to judge you,” Jihoon says shortly, “Let’s go.” He immediately starts walking, not wanting to hear any more protests from Kangjoon. But before he gets very far, a figure runs out from the shadows.

“You’re still here? Thank goodness I found you in time.” They say, racing over to Jihoon.

“What’s happening, Jeon?” Jihoon questions as Wonwoo comes into view. 

“You see… the Guard who accompanied Suh on his rounds has also committed honorable suicide.”

“Another one?!” Jihoon staggers.

“The Guard want our commanders to join them as soon as possible.”

“I guess that’ll calm down the Watch,” Jihoon sighs, “Now I hope this is going to be the end of it.”

“So I– We don’t need to go to the Watch anymore?” Kangjoon asks.

“You idiot,” Jihoon growls at him, “You’re the cause of this mess! Of course you’re coming. And you’re going to apologize to the Guard and the Watch! Now!”

“I… Of course…”

“I guess this is good to know before we go,” Youngmin smiles weakly, “I’m feeling a bit overwhelmed, but… No choice, we have to go.”

With that, Youngmin and Jihoon leave for the Guard, Kangjoon following them reluctantly.

By the time you settle in your rooms, readying yourself for bed, the men haven’t returned from their meetings. Being too worried to find sleep before they arrive back, you impatient wait for them before you resign yourself to sleep.

Had their negotiations gone well? If they hadn’t, then all of the work the Hwarang poured into the Wonweol incident would vanish in an instant.

You’re pulled from your thoughts when you hear footsteps in the corridor outside of your room. Quickly standing, you make your way to your door and slide it open.

“Huh?” You hear Jihoon sound out and turn towards the sound of your door opening, “Why are you still awake? You could have gone to sleep. You haven’t slept much the last few days.”

“Have you eaten yet?” You question as you step out into the corridor, “Do you want me to prepare something real quick?”

“No,” he shakes his head, “I’m fine. Sorry for worrying you.”

“You look… Drained.” You say softly, noting his pallid looking complexion, “Are you really okay?”

“Yeah, well I’m facing so many problems I’m beginning to think attracting them is a special talent of mine.” With the way he says that, you wonder what happened during the discussion with the Guard. Judging by his face, the worst case scenario must have been avoided, but something is still lingering with him,

“... If you can’t sleep, join me for a bit.”

“Huh?” You feel your cheeks begin to warm, “Our relationship isn’t that kind of… I mean…”

“I’m feeling overwhelmed, too. I can’t go back to my room because I’m sure I’ll be too frustrated to sleep.” He begins to walk, “Come with me, it’s fine. If we talk here, we’re going to wake everyone up.”

In the tranquility of the night, you can only hear crickets as he leads you to one of the empty courtyards. In your sleep-deprived mind, this feels as if time has suspended itself. 

“... We’re here then, let’s talk.” Jihoon stops abruptly and you need to stop yourself before you run into him as he turns around to face you. “What do you want to know?”

“You’re sure it’s okay for me to ask?” You pose, “And for you to tell me about it?”

“The more you know, the better you’ll sleep,” Jihoon says simply. “In short, everything that Wonwoo said before we left was true.”

“So the warrior going on rounds with Captain Suh did kill himself…?”

“Yeah,” he nods, “that.”

“I have to admit that I don’t get the big picture of today’s events…” You admit, breaking away from his gaze momentarily, “I don’t understand it well.” As far as you’d heard, none of the men had been guilty of anything. 

“In situations like these, we don’t always choose to do the right thing,” he sighs, crossing his arms as you look at him. “The honor of a warrior is more important than his life. The Watch guy chose it to save face. For the Guard one, it’s different. He was ordered to do so by his commander to stop any escalation with the Watch.”

Even as he explains it calmly, a chill still runs down your spine. Regardless of you own turmoil, he continues to speak with the same coldness. “With the Wonweol incident, I managed for the Hwarang to make a name for itself… If we want to have the Crown’s support, their entire support, having good relationships with the Guard is first above all.”

You stand there at a loss for words. This time, the Hwarang were not ordered to fall upon their swords but there is no guarantee that something similar won’t happen in the future. The next victim in this endless power struggle could very well be a member of the Hwarang.

“Our job is to keep order and kill those who stand in the way of it. Do the dirty work if needs be.” Jihoon locks eyes with you, “...That said, do you want to leave?” He sighs, “Well, it’s not like we can let you go, anyway.”

“You know, I… I really want to be useful to you all.” With his shocked expression you wonder if your answer was that unexpected. 

“Are you serious?” His brow furrows, “At this point we’re just murderers, it seems.”

“There may be some truth to that…” You murmur, “But without you Seorabeol could have been reduced to ashes by now. I’m from a small village and I don’t fully grasp what it means to be a noble or to embrace a warrior’s code… Still, I hope I can help you, even if only with my limited medical knowledge.”

Jihoon watches your face, not interrupting you. It’s almost as if he’s looking into your heart, seeking the depth of your resolution. 

“You look weak but your heart is strong, isn’t it?” He gives you a small smile. “I thought we scared you and made you want to run with what happened at Wonweol.” You find that he looks gentle when he smiles. The longer you look at him, you feel the stiffness that has been there since the night at Wonweol slowly lift away. 

“By the way, I forgot to thank you. You really proved to be an asset at Wonweol. You haven’t complained once since then and have been actively working for everyone’s sake behind the scenes…” He pauses for a moment, “I’m in your debt for everything you do for us. If you stay here, we’ll protect you. You’ve got my word.” 

You can’t help but return a smile of your own, “...Thank you very much.”

To follow their warrior’s path– you can’t really help with that or like what vicious means they have to expend to dispense the king’s justice. But you don’t feel wrong in wanting to support Jihoon and the rest of the warriors. This thought is as strong as ever as you look at the commander’s face, illuminated in the moonlight. 

𝔍𝔲𝔩𝔶 20𝔱𝔥, 661 – 𝔖𝔥𝔬𝔰𝔥𝔦𝔫 𝔗𝔢𝔪𝔭𝔩𝔢, 𝔎𝔦𝔫𝔤𝔡𝔬𝔪 𝔬𝔣 𝔖𝔦𝔩𝔩𝔞 As you walk down the corridors of the Hwarang’s compound, you carefully hold a book that Jeon Wonwoo had given you several minutes earlier. Coming to work with him, you find that he is more versed in Silla medicine than the Tang that your father had slightly taught you as you grew older. In a small promise, you tell him things you can remember from the trade and he has lent you the very book you hold of his own notes. And seeing that he is far superbly more versed in actually treating people, you find yourself in charge of bandage changing and wound cleaning. You’re happy to be in service to the soldiers, but they don’t make it any easier. 

“Are you sure you want to go?” You hear a voice chime out from a room just ahead of you, “She’ll be here any minute.”

“It’s fine! My forehead is as good as new by now!” With almost certainty, you can tell that it’s Kwon Soonyoung speaking. 

“Well said, Soonyoungie! The reward for Wonweol should come pretty soon!” You hear Junhui laugh, “Let’s spend a little too much of that money, shall we?”

With widened eyes as you’ve become privy to their plans, you race into the main room where you heard them speak.

“Captain Kwon! Where do you think you’re going?” You call out and Soonyoung turns quickly on his heels to face you.

“Ah–! I thought I told you to call me–” He notices the angered expression on your face, “Oh man– It’s not me! I swear! It’s Jun who wants to go out!”

“Woah, woah, woah,” Junhui raises his hands in defense, “Are you trying to let me carry this alone?!”

“That’s enough!” You say sternly, “I’ve told you many times that alcohol isn’t good for fresh wounds and that you shouldn’t drink until the wound heals!”

“Harp on him some more,” Mingyu nods towards Soonyoung, “Even though he’s not allowed to practice with his sword he sneaks out everyday to show off the scar on his forehead.” 

“Argh, Gyu! Stop talking!”

“I’ve repeated on and on how you shouldn’t remove the bandage!” You vent, you could almost feel the steam leaving your ears.

“Don’t bother,” Mingyu sighs and nods towards Junhui, “He’s not much better than a child when it comes to listening.”

“But you’re the ones who are tempting him with alcohol even though you know he shouldn’t drink any, right?” You frown. 

“Huh? No way… We wouldn’t do that, right, Mingyu?” Junhui hums.

“S– Sure! Going out for a drink doesn’t necessarily mean alcohol… It can be water.” Mingyu says, trying to cover his ass. 

“Gyu!” Junhui whispers loudly, “What do you have to say it like that?! It sounds suspicious as hell!” 

“What can I say?” Mingyu shrugs, “I hate lying.”

“Enough!” You interrupt them, “If you don’t respect the rules then Soonyoung’s wound isn’t going to heal!”

“Hey!” Soonyoung says quickly, “I’m not the one fooling around with my injury!”

“True! Seungkwan participates in sword fighting lessons every day!” Junhui nods in agreement.

“Captain Boo does…?!” You take a moment to calm your breathing, “OK… So as soon as I’m done cleaning Soonyoung’s wound, I’ll pay a visit to him.”

“That paste medicine?” Soonyoung winces, “I hate that stuff.”

“Maybe,” you begin to reach for the medicine bag on your back. “But it works wonders so come here.”

After you’re done treating his wound, you go to look for Seungkwan loitering around the compound, but for some reason you can’t seem to find him. It’s not like he’s on patrol– the commander had deemed him too injured for that right now. As you round one of the compound’s hallways you do find yourself almost smacking into him.

“Oh, hey,” Seungkwan greets you as you reel backwards in surprise. “What are you up to, cleaning?”

“That’s the least of my concerns!” You say, noticing that he wasn’t wearing his normal lounging clothes, “You know I was supposed to come and check on your injury, where were you?”

“Ah,” he sighs sheepishly, “The kids from the merchant district wanted to play so I went out with them.”

“You went out–? I told you to rest and not move until your injury was healed.”

“You’re exaggerating,” he waves his hand to dismiss your statement, “It’s not like my wound is going to get worse just because I played jegichagi.”

“You don’t know that! You could be bleeding from inside your stomach, or your organs might be damaged!” You don’t relent, pressing him further. “I also heard you’ve been going to sword practice every day.”

“Right,” he nods simply, “If I don’t practice, then I’m going to get weak.”

“But if you don’t recover, you may never be able to practice again,” You counter.

“Okay, okay,” Seungkwan sighs, “Then hurry up and take care of me.”

𝔍𝔲𝔩𝔶 23𝔯𝔡, 661 - 𝔖𝔥𝔬𝔰𝔥𝔦𝔫 𝔗𝔢𝔪𝔭𝔩𝔢, 𝔎𝔦𝔫𝔤𝔡𝔬𝔪 𝔬𝔣 𝔖𝔦𝔩𝔩𝔞 You find yourself in a similar predicament a few days later when you fail to find either Soonyoung or Seungkwan roaming about the compounds. Yet, you’re a bit thankful as you’re running low on medical supplies and you need permission from Jihoon to go and purchase more. 

“Medicine shopping?” The commander questions you once you’d found him in his quarters.

A nod, “For Captain Boo and Soonyoung. I was going to ask another captain but it seems as if they’re all on patrol…”

“Then do you want me to tag along?” He asks and you look at him, a bit surprised.

“You, Commander…?”

“Normally I’d ask Chan to do this, but he’s currently investigating something for me,” Jihoon explains, “We’ve got a lot of injured men, no one’s really free to go.”

“But surely you must be very busy too…” You murmur, feeling bad if you have to pull him away from work. There are piles of papers on his desk, which you suppose have been sent from the Crown, the Guard, and the Watch. “I was writing a report about the incident at Wonweol, but it’s fine. I should take a break anyway.”

You give him a small smile, “Well, thank you for coming with me.”

The two of you traverse the streets of Seorabeol together. While you hop from merchant to merchant, you try to keep an eye out for anyone that looks like your father but come up empty-handed.

Jihoon sighs as you pay a merchant for some powdered poria, “We still can’t find him…” Even after asking a few of the merchants, they hadn’t come across anyone like your father. Seeing your glum expression he notes, “We will find him eventually. Don’t give up hope.”

“Alright,” you nod as the two of you walk away from the storefront. 

Jihoon always appears very strict but when he speaks like this you see a glimpse of his gentler self.

“After the Wonweol incident, it seems like the loyalists have toned it down a bit,” he nods, “The rounds are going to be less dangerous for a while. So you can join the captains again and search for Heo, if you’d like.”

The grip you have on the parcel of medicine tightens, until now you’d stayed behind on the patrols in fear of something happening. With Jihoon’s words, you grow a bit more at ease with the thought of leaving. 

“I think we’ve known you for long enough now to trust that you wont run,” he nods with a smile after noting your reaction, “I don’t want to brag but I’m fairly good at reading people… Anyway, where should we go next? Did you get all of the medicine you needed?”

“Oh, right!” You bring out the list of herbs from your robes, “I actually need some ginseng root…”

After you have finished purchasing everything you require, the two of you head back to the headquarters.

“Bandages here… And this one is for wounds…” You mutter to yourself as you rummage through the medicine supply room, storing everything purchased today. 

“What’s that?” Jihoon asks as he peers over your shoulder.

“A decoction for curing summer sickness, I think it has gokaju in it…” You note, popping the lid from the pitcher and wincing at the alcoholic scent.

“Don’t keep it in plain sight, the warriors will smell it and take it,” Jihoon sighs, knowing how the rowdier men are. “Hide it somewhere.”

“Ah, right.” You nod, beginning to look for an ideal hiding spot. Looking around the space, you see shattered remnants of storage containers littered in the corners of the closet, “Maybe I should clean up first. If it’s dirty I don’t know how well things will keep in here.”

“Sounds like a lot of work,” Jihoon notes, “And it’s a lot of furniture to move in here…”

“Don’t worry about it, I’ll be–”

“Ask the free warriors to help you, you shouldn’t overdo it.” He interrupts. 

As nice of a thought as it is, you know everyone is probably very busy at the moment. “No,” shake your head, “I’ll be alright on my own. Everyone else has more important things to do.”

“You’re sure you’re okay with it?” He asks with a raised brow.

“Yes,” you nod enthusiastically, “I’ll be done in no time!”

“Fine,” he says a bit reluctantly, “I’ll be in my room. Let me know if you need anything.” After you assure him you’ll be alright he spins on his heels, returning to his quarters.

It takes you what feels like years, but you eventually get the closet into a somewhat presentable condition. Things had been missorted into the yakjang and it had taken you nearly an hour to sort through the drawers. 

The door behind you swings open and you hear Jihoon ask, “How’s it going?”

“I’m finished with the chest here and the corners… but there’s something strange…” As soon as the words leave you, you hear the pittering sound of an animal’s footsteps in the ceiling.

“Are you kidding me– Mice?” Jihoon’s eyes widen as he looks upwards.

“Probably,” you sigh, “I’ll take a look.” 

“Be careful–” he says as you reach for the ladder that accompanies the shelf, it should get you high enough where you can look at the beams that support the roof. You climb up it, raising one of the boards of the ceiling once you reach the top.

As soon as you open it, you’re startled by a mouse darting out and you begin to fall off of the ladder, “Ah–!”

“Watch out!” Jihoon shouts as you begin to fall towards the floor. Surprisingly, though, you don’t hit the ground. There’s a jerk and you open your eyes to see that Jihoon had caught you mid fall, his hands holding your hips as he steadies you on the ladder.

As soon as the fear subsides, your blood rushes and your heart begins to pound hard against your chest. 

“Are you okay?” He asks softly. 

You find yourself still dazed, never have had a man touch you like this even if it was for your safety. “I’m so sorry!” You say quickly as your face warms. 

“Are you able to grab back onto the ladder? Or should I guide you to the floor?” 

“Ah,” you say, trying to move but realize the hem of your sleeve caught between two of the rough wooden boards  of the ceiling, “My sleeve…” You try several times without success to free yourself.

“Hey, stop wiggling so much!” Jihoon says and his grip tightens to hold you in place.

“R–Right…” You meekly say and try once more to free your sleeve. Eventually, it pulls out and you manage to get yourself back onto the floor. “I– I’m really sorry about that.” 

“There’s nothing you have to apologize for,” Jihoon says quickly, “It wasn’t on purpose.”

“I know,” you murmur, “But it’s because I was careless.”

His arms cross, “Just be careful next time and you’ll be fine. It’s a good thing I just happened to walk by. You could’ve injured yourself if you were alone.”

“I’ll be careful,” the heat in your face isn’t residing, moreso out of embarrassment now. 

The air hangs awkwardly between the two of you now. It takes a moment for him to speak again, “So… Are you done cleaning?”

“I am,” you say far too quickly. “I just need to put away the ladder and I’ll be done.” 

“I’ve got it,” he says, reaching out for the ladder and moving it back to its corner. You note that Jihoon’s behavior is a bit off, not like his controlled, usual self. Perhaps he’s concerned about what happened earlier. “All done,” he says.

“Thank you for your help.”

“I should be thanking you,” he smiles, “You cleaned up this hellhole of a closet… Thanks. Now take the rest of the day off.”

“I will,” you return the smile gratefully, “Don’t worry about me.”

“Hm,” his expression drops and you furrow your brow. “I wish the injured warriors could take after you and rest when asked to.”

“It would make things much easier, wouldn’t it?”

“Yeah,” he laughs, “But most of them aren’t the obedient type anyway… Well, if everything’s fine here, I’m heading back to my room.”

“Please do,” you say, noting how tired he looks. It must be taxing to keep a hold on the men who can be so carefree and hot headed at times. Perhaps you’ll stop by his room later with some tea.

𝔄𝔲𝔤𝔲𝔰𝔱 2𝔫𝔡, 661 - 𝔖𝔥𝔬𝔰𝔥𝔦𝔫 𝔗𝔢𝔪𝔭𝔩𝔢, 𝔎𝔦𝔫𝔤𝔡𝔬𝔪 𝔬𝔣 𝔖𝔦𝔩𝔩𝔞 Ever since the raids on both Wonweol and Jeolin Inn, the Hwarang had become stricter on their rounds around Seorabeol, looking for and capturing any of the Baekje revivalists that had escaped that night. Rumors had begun to plague the streets that the loyalists were looking for revenge on those who tried to stop their rebellion. On top of that, the Hwarang were under harsh scrutiny of their opposers in the Crown’s court. Despite them having stopped a meeting that was calling for the kidnapping of Silla’s monarch, a fact you had come to learn of after the raids. 

Yet as the days creeped more lethargically into the summer, it seems as if the tensions that had arisen earlier in the season were dying down. Life was somewhat steady again. And due to your efforts during the battle, the Hwarang were growing more receptive and encouraging of your involvement with them. A small victory, for sure, but you were now allowed to complete chores in solitude now rather than being watched over by one of the captains. That’s where you find yourself now, sweeping away the dust that had accumulated in the overnight winds in front of the complex.  

You’re humming to yourself, brushing the boom atop the agate stone of the entrance when you hear gentle footsteps walking up the stairs to the main gate.  

“Excuse me,” a soft voice calls out to you, “Is this the Hwarang headquarters?”  

You look up from your work, your lips parting in mild surprise at seeing a familiar face, “It is.” After staring at him for a second longer than what was probably considered adequate, you pose your own question, “Haven’t we met before?” 

“Ah, yes- hello,” the man smiles at you, the sunlight glimmering off of the purple silk of his robes, “It’s been a while since the tea shop, hasn’t it?” 

This was the unknown man that had stepped in to confront Kangjoon for you earlier this year. It didn’t look as if he’d changed much, that happy-go-lucky aura still exuding from him as he stands in front of you. 

“It has,” you return the smile, “Thank you again for helping out that day.” 

“It’s no problem,” he says quietly, “Like I said that day, it was my pleasure. In any case, I’m glad to see that you’re doing well.”

 It’s not until this moment that you realize that he’d called you by name the last you’d met. You can’t recall giving him it, but your memory was still a little frazzled from that day.

“I’m sorry for not asking you your name despite all you did for me and those people,” you say quickly, remembering how Jihoon had been agitated that you’d forgotten to ask the man his name.  

His eyes shine for a moment, a faint melancholy in his voice as he responds, “My name is Lee Seokmin.”  

It strikes you as a rather pretty name, or maybe it was because he’d said it so lightly. Regardless, you nod your head in understanding, “How can I help you?” 

“Ah, well,” his eyes keep shifting from you to the Hwarang’s main building. You conclude he was here on some sort of business to discuss with the Hwarang. Seeing as the last you’d met, Seokmin had defended the tea shop against a rambunctious member of the group, you wonder if he’s here to report Kangjoon to the higher-ups.  

As if he had telepathic means to tell if you’d strayed away from your task, the front entrance of the hall swings open, Jihoon standing in the doorway. He looks from you to Seokmin and then back to you, pausing as if to let you speak. 

“Commander,” eyebrows raising in surprise, “This is-” 

Before you could finish speaking, Seokmin almost gleefully runs to the commander. 

“I knew it!” Seokmin says, an unhidden delight in his words as he smiles at Jihoon, “It’s me, Seokmin, long time no see!” 

“Y- Wait, Seokmin?” Jihoon looks surprised as the other announces himself, “What are you doing here?!” 

A laugh from Seokmin, “Are you surprised? I’m visiting Seorabeol with the Crown’s orders.” He waves his hand, “But forget about that. I can’t believe it was you connected to the Hwarang! I couldn’t believe it until I saw it with my own eyes. Congratulations, you really followed your and Hoseok’s dream.” 

The name lingers in the air heavily for a moment between the two, you’ve never heard of a Hoseok before. Looking at the two of them, it must’ve been at least an acquaintance of theirs.  

Jihoon doesn’t let the weight last, breaking it with a small smile. “Come on, if I were to fully do that, I’d be a general by now. The Hwarang aren’t treated much better than the city guard at this point.” 

“Still,” a somewhat nostalgic look in Seokmin’s eye, “I’m sure he’d be happy either way. The Hwarang are famous in Seorabeol and gaining even more notoriety in other cities. With the raids last month, you’ve gained even more popular support.”  

Jihoon looks humble for a second, breaking his gaze with Seokmin to look at the ground. “We’re still working on that,” he mumbles out as the other laughs at him. 

It was an odd thing to see Jihoon flustered, you’d only seen a mild variant of his embarrassment when Seungkwan would really get under his skin. But you’ve never seen his cheeks go flush before. With Seokmin’s teasing and knowledge of something that seemed to have happened years ago, it would suggest that they’ve known each other for a while. Are they good friends?  

Once you sense their conversation coming to a lull, you speak up, “Commander, this was the warrior that helped me with Kangjoon at the tea shop a while ago.” 

“I see,” Jihoon muses and turns to look at Seokmin, “Sorry for her causing trouble, well, I suppose you saw something you shouldn’t have.” 

“It’s alright,” Seokmin nods, “I was just passing by for personal reasons. I didn’t report it.” 

“Thanks for that,” the commander offers a smile of appreciation. His gaze looks to the cloudless, sunny sky for a moment, “We don’t need to talk outside like this, why don’t you come in?” 

As the two make their way inside, you set the broom that was still in your hands next to the doorway and scurry off to the kitchen. You return to them some while later holding a tray of tea and assorted goods for them. After you’d set down the tray, Jihoon told you to stay, so you take a seat a little way away from where the two are conversing.  

“You said you’re here on Crown orders? What are you here for?” Jihoon asks, his hand hovering over his steaming cup of tea. 

“I’m currently working in one of the Sodang units.” Seokmin explains. He goes on to say a few more things about his duties, but you are unfamiliar with a majority of the lingo they use, so you try to follow along to the best of your ability.  

Jihoon, glancing at you and seeing your viable confusion, says, “He’s in the Naegeumwi, entrusted with protecting King Munmu and his family.” 

“Oh wow,” you look at Seokmin, “I’m honored to meet someone with such a high ranking.” 

“Please,” it’s the same humbled tone he’d used at the tea shop, “I only acquired this position because of the connections my father has.” 

“Why would someone with his rank need to visit the Hwarang?” You question Jihoon. While the Hwarang worked under the Crown, there was no direct connection, whereas it seems as if Seokmin works quite literally with the king.  

“Are you asking why he’d know a bunch of washed-up nobles and commoners like us?” Jihoon asks, almost teasingly. You nod gently, so as to not offend him. “You see, not only is Seokmin in the Naegeumwi, but his father’s father was Lee Alcheon.” Once again noting your confusion he clarifies, “A Sangdaedeung under Queen Jindeok some years ago. He opened a prestigious school after his time in office, and now Seokmin here is the heir to it. The school I attended socialized often with the Lee school and that’s how I came to meet him.” 

“That’s right,” Seokmin nods, “When I heard that I was heading to Seorabeol I knew that I had to find Jihoon.” His eyes shine with admiration towards the aforementioned, but the commander just scoffs and rolls his eyes at him. 

“Flattery won’t get you anywhere, Lee,” Jihoon sighs, “And remember: Seorabeol isn’t exactly a relaxing getaway.”  

“I’ll keep that in mind… However, even if it is dangerous, it seems even a woman can join the Hwarang?” Seokmin looks at you coyly before returning his gaze to the commander. He judges both the surprised look and glare from Jihoon for a moment before raising his hand to his mouth in surprise, “Was that supposed to be a secret?” He waits a moment, seeing as there’s no answer, he continues, “It’s not difficult to tell. I mean it’s not her fault.” 

“I know,” Jihoon’s probably recalling the first he’d met you; he’d been one of the first to figure it out, “Only a fool couldn’t see.” He resigns himself into a sigh, “Her reasons for being here are somewhat complicated, so we’re having her dress as a man for now. Only a handful of men in the Hwarang know of her circumstance, so I’d prefer if you didn’t speak about it in front of anyone.”

“I understand,” the guard agrees, “would it be too much to ask the reasons for her staying here?” 

“Her father is missing, so we’re allowing her to cooperate with our investigation,” Jihoon sets his hand around the now cooled teacup, bringing it to his lips and drinking the contents slowly.  

“Her father-” Seokmin’s brow furrows, “You’re talking about Heo Jinsang?” The second the name leaves his lips, the hairs on the back of your neck stand on end. How was it that he knew everything? 

“How do you know his name?!” You can’t help but blurt out.  

“Wait a minute,” It seems like the commander was also shocked by the revelation that Seokmin knew who Heo Jinsang was. He sets his teacup down onto the tray with a small clatter before looking bewildered at the guard. “How do you know her father is Heo?” 

“I visited the Heo Clinic a long time ago,” Seokmin explains and then looks towards you and asks in a timid voice, “Do you not remember me?” 

It clicks for you, so that’s how he knew your name and father. You search his eyes for a moment, nothing sparking a memory of him from your childhood. “Were you a patient of my father’s?” 

“No,” Seokmin offers you somewhat of a forlorn smile at your response, “I was interested in Tang medicine when I was younger, so I went to your father’s clinic to study.”

“I see…” still trying to recall his face, you nod your head. 

“Don’t worry though, I’m sure you’ll be seeing more of me.”  

“What?” Jihoon interrupts, “What are you talking about? You don’t have to keep coming back here.”

“Don’t be like that, Jihoon,” He laughs at the commander and glances back at you, “We’re both from Gochang, we're buddies.” Seokmin then moves to get a little closer to the commander, clearly trying to fluster the elder. Normally Jihoon was composed and tried to keep himself together, seeing him easily behave like this was somewhat amusing. It’s almost as if he was enjoying himself. 

The three of you talking must’ve drawn the attention of the captains, because as Seokmin was teasing the commander some more, they slowly began to filter in. 

“Seokmin!” Junhui says as he sees the guard, running over to him and throwing an arm around his shoulder, “I thought you’d said you’d visit sooner!”

“We thought we heard your voice somewhere, Wen thought he was hallucinating,” Mingyu notes as he greets Seokmin. 

“Junhui, Mingyu,” a smile curling onto Seokmin’s lips at Junhui relinquishes him from his grasp, “And everyone else! Long time no see.”

“Can’t believe you’re in Seorabeol too now, are you here to train?” Junhui asks.

“Don’t be stupid, Wen. I bet he’s here to protect something or someone important, right?” Soonyoung questions as he looks to the guard.

A breathy chuckle from Seokmin, “It’s… something like that.”

“If you’re in Seorabeol, then it must’ve been a good job offer.” Hansol notes, as he looks at Seokmin.

 Seokmin nods silently to affirm him while Seungkwan speaks up, “If that’s the case: be careful. Don’t be stupid and go off dying on us.”

“Thank you for the warning,” Seokmin looks to the elder, “I’ll keep that in mind.”

“We should go drinking to celebrate someday, hell, we could go now if you want!” Junhui shouts out, eager to get out of the headquarters for a bit. 

The rest of the captains surround Seokmin for a while, immersing themselves in conversation and banter with the guard as he, too, seems to get lost in it all. So, he really did know all of them.

“Despite him being in the Naegeumwi, and heir of his grandfather’s school…” Jihoon’s eyes hold a fond warmth as he looks onto the commotion happening in the room. “He doesn’t hold that over the heads of the ranks lower than him. No one can escape his amiable nature.” The commander then turns to you, “Whenever he visits, be sure to let him in.”

“Alright,” you nod, not bothered by that order at all. Seokmin seemed to bring a warmth to the Hwarang men that you hadn’t seen too often, it was probably good for them.  

The men spent an exorbitant amount of time regaling about memories and incidents that had happened with their friend, and before they or you knew it, evening descended upon the compound with the orange glow of the setting sun. Seokmin notes this at one point and says he has to depart back to his duties. 

“When I return to Gochang I’ll ask about Heo,” The guard notes as he steps out of the front entranceway with Jihoon. You stand a few feet away from them and listen quietly to their conversation. 

“If you want to,” Jihoon nods in agreement, “Be sure to not tell anyone about our investigation.” 

“Of course,” Seokmin nods and glances over to you as if to affirm himself, “My lips are sealed.”  

As the three of you begin to make your farewells, from around the thicket of trees and down the walkway that leads to the entrance of the headquarters, you can hear the approaching steps of a returning group of Hwarang. They’re probably returning from their evening rounds, but you’re not sure who was on patrol today.  

“You’re- You’re that bastard from the tea shop, aren’t you?!” One of them freezes in their tracks before angrily storming over to the three of you. Almost instantly you recognize the voice and face of Suh Kangjoon. He stands before Seokmin, his voice irate, “Why the hell are you here?” 

Seokmin looks at him, his voice reserved and questioning, “I don’t know what you’re talking about. I don’t think we’ve been acquainted yet.” 

“Are you trying to mock me?” Kangjoon huffs, you’re sure if it were colder outside his breath would escape him in large plumes of white. “Name yourself!” 

“I am a member of Gochang’s Sodang unit under the Naegeumwi, my name is Lee Seokmin.” The guard states stoically, no inflection to his voice in trying to sound superior or below the man in front of him.

“A Naegeumwi… Lee…” It’s almost as if Kangjoon’s trying to piece together a puzzle, “Are you from Lee Alcheon’s-?”  

“Yes. I’m here in Seorabeol on official business.” Seokmin states calmly, “As I had some free time, I’ve come to visit my friends from Kwak Hall.” 

“Don’t lie to me! You’ve come to spread malicious rumors about the last time we met!” Kangjoon barks, his chest puffing out as if to intimidate Seokmin. 

The guard doesn’t seem in the least bit phased as he responds, “I have come here to see my friends, nothing more.” Seokmin shifts his weight from foot to foot as he brings his hand up to his chin in faux ponderance, “Or… Would you rather me remind you of what occurred when I last saw you?” 

His eyes sharpen at the Hwarang, who seems to have been taken aback by the statement.  

“If you say so,” the Hwarang cedes, realizing that he was in no place to argue with the commander of his organization listening quietly in on their conversation. “We’re settled. I’ll be on my way.” His voice holds a semblance of respect as he walks away with the handful of other Hwarang he’d arrived with.  

Despite the situation escalated by Kangjoon alone, Seokmin seems rather relaxed as he watches the Hwarang storm off into the compound. You only let out a sigh of relief when Kangjoon leaves your line of sight, you weren’t aware you’d been holding your breath.   

“Jihoon,” Seokmin asks, a small frown on his lips as he turns back to the commander, “Who is that man?” 

“His name is Suh Kangjoon,” the commander’s arms cross as he lets out a sigh, knowing full well how problematic the Hwarang is. “He’s a captain from the Hanseong unit who’s come to stay with us for the time being. I’m sorry about him, I’ll make sure he doesn’t bother you anymore.” 

“I’ll be alright but,” Seokmin looks at you before returning his attention to Jihoon, “Keep an eye on her. I’m sure if he found out she was here it wouldn’t go over well.” 

“I’ll try to drop by again soon,” Seokmin smiles, a twinkle in his eyes, before he turns on his heels and heads towards the city. You watch him as he leaves, his tall figure becoming smaller and smaller with every step before he eventually disappears down the pathway. 

Even if he was an important person and a friend of the Hwarang, he was an enigma to you. Seokmin was assuredly high amongst the bone-ranks, maybe even higher than the Hwarang’s commander, yet upheld himself with integrity and mindfulness to everyone he came across. You’d never been made aware of a noble that was like that before, most adhering to the rigid structure of the realm.  

𝔄𝔲𝔤𝔲𝔰𝔱 15𝔱𝔥, 661 - 𝔖𝔢𝔬𝔯𝔞𝔟𝔢𝔬𝔩, 𝔎𝔦𝔫𝔤𝔡𝔬𝔪 𝔬𝔣 𝔖𝔦𝔩𝔩𝔞 It’s hot. Blazingly so. The city is blanketed by a heat so unknown to you that you found yourself perspiring as you awoke that morning. You’d thought you’d been sick until you walked into the main hall and saw the other captains in a similar state to yourself. There was nothing to be done about it except for staying in the shade or perhaps cooling off by a river. 

Yet, that’s not what was in store for you. Ever since your actions on the nights of the inn raids, Jihoon has been much more forgiving in his attitude, allowing you to resume your patrols with the captains. And seeing as Kim Mingyu was about to head out, you decided to tag along. 

You regret that decision almost immediately when you step onto the city’s streets, the crowds not doing anything to damper the rays of sun beaming down onto you. 

“Mingyu?” You ask as the two of you walk down the street, “The Hwarang patrol both night and day, right?” 

“They do,” he nods, wiping the sweat that had accumulated around the headband on his forehead, “Why?” 

 “Why is it that you do? Wouldn’t that be more of the city guard’s job?” You question as you pass by an armory, the heat of its fires only causing you to perspire more.  

“Because most of the city guard’s been called to the front,” his shoulders shrug, “Emperor Gaozong called them to help his forces root out Gogoryeo last month, so they’ve had a decline in their numbers… I’m not sure when they’ll be back, I heard the King was leading generals to Siigok Garrison so I can only assume it’ll be a while.” 

“So, you’ve become the city guard then?” 

“I mean, in a way,” he thinks, “We arrest thieves, people who’re looking for fights and who don’t pay for their meals. And then there are those who think they’ll just mooch off merchants...” 

It wasn’t fully the answer you’d been expecting, maybe along the lines of it. The adoption of the guard’s role was something new, but you couldn’t fault them for it if the city needed their swords. Before you’re able to continue to question him, a few men in Hwarang blues down the road seem to be trying to wave Mingyu down. Getting closer to the scene, you can make out Junhui’s figure and a few more Hwarang men.  

“Hey!” He smiles as the two of you stand before him, he looks to you before asking, “Find anything about your dad?” 

“No,” a small shake of your head, “Nothing yet.” 

“Ah, cheer up,” he says, gently hitting you on the arm as he sees your downtrodden frown, “There’s always tomorrow.” 

“You’re right,” pepping up slightly at his words. Junhui seems to be able to energize and lighten the mood whenever someone was feeling low, it was something you’d noticed over the course of getting to know him. It was almost as if his optimism was contagious. 

“Did you find anything fun, Junhui?” Mingyu questions, probably wondering if there was any more reason for Junhui flagging you down other than wanting to say hello. 

“Nothing in particular…” Junhui admits, “But, all of the people on this street are acting really busy.” 

You think he’s being a little over dramatic, but a closer observation of the pedestrians and shopkeepers has you thinking a little more critically. There was almost a nervousness, an anxiety, threading itself through the air and in their movements.  

“It looks like they’re… packing up?” You observe, eyeing one merchant in particular boxing away his things. 

“You think they’re worried about the war with Gogoryeo or the Baekje guys?” Mingyu asks Junhui, crossing his arms. 

“I thought that the Baekje threat was resolved...?” You say, looking from Mingyu to Junhui, confusion seeped into your voice. 

The taller rests his hand atop the hilt of his sword, “We didn’t tell you, did we? Those Baekje bastards have been showing up again, that’s why we’ve been having extra rounds.” 

“Even if we did weaken them at Wonweol,” Mingyu frowns, “I can’t really imagine them standing idly around when we’ve put some of their men in the ground. And now that the king’s absent… it’s a little trickier for us.” 

“Were the loyalists planning on doing something?” You ask, the way Mingyu had spoken leads you to believe something had been in the works. 

 “Not sure,” Junhui says with a shake of his head, “Other than what we found out after the raids we haven’t gotten wind of anything else.” 

“It doesn’t matter, though,” Mingyu notes, “All we’ve got to do is do our jobs. The loyalists attack Seorabeol, we drive them out. It’s as simple as that.” The Hwarang just accept the cards they’re dealt and never seem to complain. 

“If the loyalists continue their stunts then we’re probably going to get orders from the king to do something whenever he gets back,” Junhui sighs, not knowing how long the sovereign would be out of the capital. 

“What do you think he’d decree?” A tilt of your head as you ask, unknowing what more he could make the Hwarang do. 

“In the past the Hwarang have fought almost as their own regiment, he might do that.” Junhui shrugs, his hand moving from his sword and down to his side. 

“That doesn’t happen too often,” Mingyu nods almost approvingly and then turns to you with a joking smile, “You should join us.” 

You laugh at the sudden invitation, knowing full well the offer isn’t real. Seeing as the female version of the Hwarang, the Wonhwa, had been thrown away since before the Hwarang themselves were even conceptualized, it was a long shot to think that you could march along their ranks. As much as you want to help these men, you’re not sure that they’d fully accept you into their ranks. But if you could aid them like you had on the night of the raids on the two inns, you wouldn’t mind doing something like that again.  

“If you want me to go with you, I wouldn’t be opposed,” you shoot back to Mingyu, cracking a small smile at him. “If you need me to help, I’ll do whatever I can.” 

His smile deepens, the dimples on his cheeks beginning to show, “I’ll be sure to keep that in mind if the time comes.” 

𝔄𝔲𝔤𝔲𝔰𝔱 18𝔱𝔥, 661 - 𝔖𝔢𝔬𝔯𝔞𝔟𝔢𝔬𝔩, 𝔎𝔦𝔫𝔤𝔡𝔬𝔪 𝔬𝔣 𝔖𝔦𝔩𝔩𝔞 “Excuse me,” you say quietly as you make your way into the main hall, the wooden handle of the teapot in your grasp coarse on your palm. The heat of its contents rising to try and weaken your grip on the vessel. “I brought you all some more tea.” 

The Hwarang captains and men sit in various spots around the hall, you’re not sure why they’re convening, but they’d been in there for at least an hour discussing some matter at hand. 

“Thanks!” Junhui calls out and beckons you over, he takes the pot from your hands and begins to pour tea into his already halfway filled cup, “It’s almost like you’re our servant or something.” 

More so a page, but you weren’t going to correct him quite yet. You take back the pot and look around for anyone who might need a refill. Spotting Eunseok trying to catch your eye, you make your way over and fill his cup. 

“Thank you,” he says once you’re finished, quickly bringing the cup to his lips, and blowing on the warm contents.  

“It’s no problem,” you smile, voice barely above a whisper as you try not to disrupt the main conversation flowing throughout the hall. As you’re about to move away, Seungkwan swipes the pot from your grasp, pouring his own cup of tea and taking a drink of it. His face contorts for a moment and you question, “Does it not taste good?” 

“It tastes fine, I guess,” his shoulders shrug as he leans back in his seat, “It could stand to be a little warmer though, maybe you’re just taking too long to pour it.” 

“Oh,” you frown, taking the pot back from him, holding your free hand to the side of the vessel for a moment to test the warmth, “I’ll go and brew some more.” 

“Don’t worry about it,” Soonyoung butts in, motioning for you to hand him the pot, “I like it lukewarm because it’s easier to drink, right, Hansol?” 

“Right,” the aforementioned captain nods, “It’s easier to drink on a hot day like this.” 

It looks as if Soonyoung’s about to speak again before Youngmin barges into the hall, a stoic expression drawn onto his face.  

“The Hwarang have received an official request from the Crown to head to Ongsan Fortress. All available men must get ready to set out at once,” Youngmin says, a sternness in his voice hinting at a notion of pride somewhere hidden away in its depths. There’s general excitement beginning to buzz among the Hwarang before he continues, “It seems as if they’ve noticed all of our hard work as of late.” It’s then he lets himself break out into a prideful smile; it was clear he was proud of the work the Hwarang had achieved in the past few weeks.  

As you scan the faces of the room, there was one in particular that has a sour expression forming as Youngmin finishes.  

“We don’t have time to celebrate,” Jihoon says, rising to his feet, “We need to get moving now, so get off of your asses and go!” The captains and other men then begin to follow his lead and stand, “Those loyalists are already in Seorabeol, we need to cut the head off of this snake before it lays any more eggs.” 

Once the men filter out and it’s only you and the captains, Jihoon speaks up, “Only when there’s somewhere else to go they tell us to haul ass?” He shakes his head, “We may not be the Guard or the Watch, but it doesn’t mean we’re any less expendable.” 

“Soonyoung and Seungkwan,” Seungcheol says after Jihoon’s done mumbling to himself, “You’ll remain here. I know it’s not what you want, but your injuries from Wonweol are still preventing you from active duty.” You glance to his hand, knowing full well that the colonel would be staying behind as well.  

“Speak for yourself,” Seungkwan frowns, clearly perturbed by the orders, “It’s not like my injuries didn’t recover. But I’m not at peak performance, even I can realize that. So, if you want me to hang back, I guess I can…” 

“That’s bullshit!” Adversely, Soonyoung points to his forehead, the cut he’d received during the raids still an angry pink where the skin had been slashed. “This is just a scratch, Kwak’s just being too careful.” 

“Are you being serious?” Mingyu scoffs at the younger, “I heard you in your room crying about how much it hurt still last night.” 

“You bastard,” Soonyoung pouts, “Don’t you want me out there with you guys?” 

“Oh, believe me, I do, Kwon.” Mingyu shakes his head, chuckling, “I just want you at your best. Not crying into your pillow because of a scratch. Even you heard him, right?” He looks to you for affirmation. 

“HEY!” Soonyoung whines, you think he’s going to clamp his hand over Mingyu’s mouth but the older moves away before he can. “Don’t ask her! And can you try to keep your mouth shut for a little while?” Soonyoung then gives you a sideways glance as if to ask if you really had heard him complaining yesterday. 

“...Your injury still hasn’t healed, Soonyoung.” You don’t explicitly admit that you heard his grumblings, even though you had. The band he normally wears with the Hwarang insignia hides the scar well, but without it, like he is now, it’s a stark reminder that he isn’t quite ready for the front lines again. 

“Hm, you said you wanted to go with us if we ever got the orders, didn’t you?” Junhui interrupts the lull in the room as he asks you a question. “Are you still up for that?” 

Even if you said that you’d join Junhui and Mingyu when you were out with them the other day, you thought you’d been joking, or half-joking at least. It would be risky if you did join them.

“I don’t see any reason why you can’t tag along,” Youngmin says with a nod of his head, “Opportunities for the Hwarang to move under Crown command alone are rare.” While he’s supposed to be the leader of the Hwarang, Kwak Youngmin was very easily swayed by his men’s words.  

“What?” Soonyoung says, almost confused as he looks from Junhui to Mingyu. “If she’s going with you, then maybe it isn’t such a bad idea for me to tag along too, right?” 

“You’re still not where you need to be,” Junhui says, nudging the other with his elbow gently, “Just stay here and heal up.” 

“Are you sure it’s okay that I go with you?” You ask, still not fully convinced they want you tagging along with them. 

The captain and colonel sigh at your reservations.  

“We can’t promise that you won’t get injured, or worse.” Jihoon says, a distressed glint in his eyes as he speaks to you, “I think you should stay here.”  

“Staying here would be an undue burden on the rest of us that stay,” Seungcheol argues back, “We’re not here to be a source of entertainment for you.” 

“Seungcheol…” Hansol speaks up, “So, as long as she’s not being burdensome, she’s free to go with us?” 

Is he standing up for you? It seems to be the case as Seungcheol looks at him in surprise, his eyes widening at the captain.  

“You’re really in favor of taking her along with you?” The colonel asks, his brow furrowing as he tries to understand the rationale.  

“She was an asset to us as Wonweol,” Hansol’s shoulders shrug, “Taking that into consideration, I hardly believe that she can be considered a ‘burden’, when recalling that.” 

“Great!” Youngmin exclaims, relinquishing the two from their conversation as his hands clap together. “I’ll take full responsibility for your inclusion, that is, if you want to go with us.” 

“Do whatever you want to do,” almost as if he can sense your hesitation, Seungkwan speaks up. The two of you make eye contact, and a smaller version of the smirk he almost always has plastered on his face curls to his lips. “Just as long as you know that this is a battle you’re going to, not a party.” 

Maybe you’d be able to help them out as you had on the night of the raids. It was a strong maybe, but you couldn’t let that hinder your decision making, could you?  

“I’d like to participate,” you find the words falling from your lips before you have the thought of saying them in the first place. Perhaps it was your subconscious speaking for what you truly want.  

𝔄𝔲𝔤𝔲𝔰𝔱 24, 661 - 𝔒𝔲𝔱𝔰𝔦𝔡𝔢 𝔬𝔣 𝔒𝔫𝔤𝔰𝔞𝔫, 𝔎𝔦𝔫𝔤𝔡𝔬𝔪 𝔬𝔣 𝔖𝔦𝔩𝔩𝔞 (𝔣𝔬𝔯𝔪𝔢𝔯 𝔅𝔞𝔢𝔨𝔧𝔢 𝔰𝔱𝔯𝔬𝔫𝔤𝔥𝔬𝔩𝔡) Entering the territory of the former kingdom is more eye opening to you than you had ever thought it would be. Rather than the calmness that had been exemplified by the King’s announcements back in Silla, there is an anxious tension wrought in the villages and towns as the Hwarang sweep through. Even though they were only passing by the inhabitants would warily gaze upon you, the captains, and the rest of the men as if to gauge how hostile their new countrymen would be. 

The main goal is to reach Ongsan, a former Baekje fortress that stands on the border between the two Kingdoms. It seems as if the same group of loyalists from Seorabeol had taken over the now-emptied armament and claimed it as their headquarters. The Crown assigned the Hwarang the mission of expelling them, in a way of their gratitude for their performance on the night of the Wonweol and Jeolin Inn raids. 

Judging from what the captains were saying this morning, it seems as if you’re not too far from your destination. You don’t know the layout of this land, the towns unfamiliar and the faces just as so. 

For the most part, the men have been silent, only the odd gripe from one of the Hwarang. The absence of both Seungkwan and Soonyoung are notable, their voices seeming to fill in large gaps of silence when in attendance. It’s not until your troupe stops in front of a walled gate, presumably leading into a city, that Youngmin speaks up. Before the group stands a few other soldiers, from Silla by the looks of their armor.  

“My name is Kwak Youngmin, leader of the Seorabeol Hwarang. I am here on orders from Kim Seokmin, an army general under His Majesty King Munmu.” He stands before an officer of the troupe that was already there. 

Kim Seokmin is one of the most influential members of the Crown’s court. The father of Kim Mingyu and former Hwarang himself, he acquired favor from the kingship due to his efforts in a handful of Baekje rebellions in the decades prior.  

The officer looks confused, his brow furrowing, “You were told to report here? Did you not meet with the men from Unghyeon?” 

“Unghyeon?” You mouth the word in the same confusion the officer was expressing. It’s a Silla fortress some distance away from where you all stand now, it hadn’t been brought up in any conversation the Hwarang had had on their trek. 

“Several generals and their troops were sent there to convene before the attack,” Hansol leans over to you and whispers, “If we were meant to meet with them, it’s most likely the message to tell us to do so was intercepted.”  

“Does that mean they know we’re coming?” You ask quietly, looking around to the other captains to try and gauge what they’re thinking.  

“It’s likely they’ve put the pieces together,” Hansol nods solemnly, “But I can’t imagine they have the numbers to rival both us and the other group.” 

“This could still get messy, though,” you sigh, hoping the break in communication wouldn’t be but so impactful to the mission. 

“Regardless of that, our aid has been formally requested,” Youngmin stands firm as he speaks to the officer, “If you could relay this to your commandi-”  

 “If that’s the case then I suggest you try and convene with the King’s garrison,” the officer states as he cuts off Youngmin, “We can’t let you in here because we have no idea what’s waiting on the other side.” 

“Our orders say to stay stationed here,” Youngmin frowns, clearly frustrated with the lack of cooperation. 

“There’s nothing we can do about this, Chief,” Hansol speaks up, stepping over to Youngmin. “If they won’t allow us access here, maybe it would be in our best interest to try and find the others.” It looks as if Hansol was going to suggest something else before Kangjoon interrupts. 

“Find the others?” He shakes his head almost angrily, “Kim’s orders were to stay stationed here until we were signaled to enter the city. Why would we ignore a military command when we haven’t received anything to tell us to do otherwise? I think we should remain here on standby.” 

“If this was a camp that we were stationed at, that might make sense, Suh.” Hansol states with a frown, “But this is, or very soon will be, the front lines of a battle.” 

“Are you really trying to go against me?” Kangjoon nearly snarls back, the mere thought of someone going against his wishes enraging him, “Don’t forget that I’m the Hwarang’s War Counselor.” 

“And I’m the leader,” Youngmin interjects, “Hansol’s made a good point. We’ll look for the other group’s camp and hopefully get a better understanding of the strategy at play.” 

And with his words, the Hwarang begin to walk along the narrow pathway surrounding the fortress in search of the other group of generals and soldiers that are on their way from Unghyeon. Your group eventually finds the ally camp to the eastern front of the fortress, wooden spikes that had been hastily made surrounding it. A few soldiers come out to greet a few members of the Hwarang as you enter, they might be friends or family members who haven't seen each other in quite some time. 

Almost as soon as you’d entered the camp, Youngmin is ushered into one of the tents to speak with a few generals. You’re not sure who’s in there, but with the pallid complexion of the Hwarang’s leader upon his exit, you can assume it had been higher ranks than he’d been expecting.  

The orders are now to travel to the Southern Gate, the opposite end of where your original orders had been to go with a general and his troops.  

“If these guys say anything, and I don’t think they will, just let me know, okay?” Junhui says as everyone begins to leave the encampment. “Park Kimsu’s not a friendly face around here.” 

“What do you mean?” You ask, not noticing Mingyu saddling up beside you. 

“What he means is, his father’s an enemy of my father,” Mingyu says, a gruffness to his voice as if he’s recalling something. “His father’s probably the one that sent the Watch out the night of the raids to try and take credit for what we did.”  

“That and he’s a major prick,” Junhui adds, “I can’t imagine his men are much better.” 

“Come on you guys,” Youngmin says as he slows his pace in front of you three, falling in line to your steps. “We can’t talk about them like that,” he contradicts his words by letting slip a sly smile for a few seconds before straightening his face and resuming his position at the front of the line.  

By the time you all arrived and set up your small camp, night had fallen quickly, plunging the surrounding area into an inky black, save for the lights several fires dotted around the site provided. Youngmin, Jihoon and the captains had gone off to speak with Park Kimsu and his officers, leaving you and the rest of the Hwarang to sit around camp with little else to do.  

They return what feels like hours later, their shoulders sagging and eyes looking tired as if they'd just run for that time instead of sitting in on a meeting. Eunseok, who had accompanied them, walks over to you with a small and lethargic smile.  

“For the most part they’re being cooperative,” he sighs, “The only reason Kimsu was paired with us is because his father asked for it, though.” 

“Why would he do that?” You ask a tilt of your head. Earlier, Mingyu has said that his and Kimsu’s families were something along the lines of enemies.  

“I don’t know,” Eunseok shakes his head, “Maybe to rile us up? Regardless of that though, we’re here to watch over the gate and make sure no one escapes.” 

“Regardless of that, they’re treating us like reserve troops,” Junhui’s voice is strained as he walks over, his arms high over his head as he stretches. Once he drops his arms down, he speaks up, “They’ve left smaller reserves around the South entrance because the biggest fight is going to happen at the North Gate.” He sounds a little disappointed, as if he were anticipating a big battle.  

“We don’t know what they’ll do exactly,” Hansol says as he trails after him, “We may very well see battle.” 

But that means waiting and seeing as the sun isn’t to rise for a long time, that means waiting overnight. As the crowds disperse and settle into their tents, you find that the Hwarang, at least, are sleeping in shifts so that if the call to arms were to come at night, there would be someone to rouse everyone else.  

“You can rest your head on my shoulder if you need to,” Mingyu says as the two of you sit down to keep watch, the flames in front of you seem like they’re trying to lull you to sleep. 

“I’m alright,” trying to stifle a yawn behind your hand as you shake your head. You’d feel wrong trying to sleep when you know these men could get called to face death at any moment.  

A nervous anxiousness coils around your stomach until you find yourself falling asleep later in the night, not awaking until the sun’s barely peeking over the horizon. When you sit up from the laid down position you’d slept in, you notice that the men had kept a silent vigil all through the night. Even as you were drifting in and out of consciousness, you noted that there were men posted around the camp, looking for anything or anyone suspicious.  

A little while later a large boom reverberates through the surrounding forest. You first think it’s a crack of lightning, or maybe the subsequent boom of thunder that succeeds it, but the sky is clear today, not a cloud in sight. It had echoed like thunder, startling the birds in the nearby trees, and causing more people than just you to jump in shock.

“What was that?” You question Hansol as he walks past you, seeming to look for someone coming in from outside of the camp. 

“It looks like the main army is beginning to siege the fortress,” He says, his eyes narrowing as scans the tree-line. The soldiers and Hwarang within the camp are moving by now,  

“Let’s get a move on!” Jihoon shouts out from somewhere deeper in the camp, his voice nearing as he continues to speak, “They’re not going to pause the fight until we get there, so get moving!” 

“We were told to stay here,” Park Kimsu says as he emerges from his tent, probably stirred from the commotion outside. The general watches the scramble of men in the camp race for their weapons and armor for a moment before he turns to Jihoon, “You don’t command my men.” 

“Our job is to siege the fortress, not sit on our asses and wait for this to pass by,” The commander bites back, he was almost yelling at the general. “We’re here to root out these loyalists, that won’t happen if we just stay here!”  

“We haven’t even received orders to push!” Kimsu quips, his brow furrowing at the Hwarang.  

“If you have any pride in your position, forget the damn orders and move your men,” Jihoon huffs, straightening the band around his forehead, “They aren’t going to willingly surrender.” The commander and general stare harshly at one another for a moment, almost as if they’re testing each other in a battle of wills. Jihoon, seeing as it was useless to try to neg the other any further, spins on his heels and begins to stalk off. 

“Where are we going?” You whisper to Hansol as Jihoon passes by, muttering something to himself.

“To face the enemy head on,” He says quietly, “Which, in our case, means the Southern Gate. The main fight is meant to happen at the Northern Gate so I wouldn’t be surprised if they try to divide our numbers to get more support up there.” 

“I see,” You nod, the same nervousness invading your veins once again, it was now riddled with an adrenaline that was probably the only thing making you think clearly. 

Jihoon’s rage at the general seems to have roused the reserve troops, who now, instead of loitering around the camp, seem to be mostly readied up. Led by both Park Kimsu and Lee Jihoon, the army and the Hwarang march their way to the Southern Gate. 

It was only a short trek to the destination, but the remains of skirmishes that seemed to have happened moments prior litter the ground. Soldiers, dead and dying, lay on the ground, chunks of wood from the gate lay in reddened splinters as arrows, both broken and intact, lay riddled where fragments of the gate’s doors once stood. The group that had come before you seems to have successfully made it into the city, but not without losses of their own. You can see both Baekje and Silla armor on the bodies of the fallen soldiers.  

Even if you tried to mentally prepare yourself for what you might see, the reality of it all still shatters your heart. 

Though the Baekje and Silla forces were nowhere to be seen, had your allies driven them further into the fortress? After a quick moment of assessment, Jihoon orders a few captains to investigate what happened, Youngmin sighing as he does so. 

“Had we known a group of Silla warriors were coming in beforehand we would’ve joined them and lost fewer lives.” He frowns as he looks over the scene, looking up once he sees Hansol returning from his survey of the area.  

“It looks like our forces attacked the gate earlier this morning, were repelled briefly before the flank on the Northern Gate began,” the captain recounts, looking to Jihoon, “After their forces were divided the army at the Southern Gate was able to advance into the fortress.” 

“Do you have any word on what’s happening at the Northern Gate?” Jihoon questions, obviously beginning to silently plan a course of action.  

“They’re still fighting,” Hansol nods, his hand resting on the hilt of his sword as if he can tell what Jihoon’s thinking, “The King’s garrison has yet to advance into Ongsan.” 

“Lee!” Mingyu shouts out as he returns from his own survey of the area, running from the direction of the pass to reach the stronghold. “There’s supposedly Baekje reinforcements coming from the west as well, not many, but enough to make a dent in our numbers if we let them.” 

Jihoon’s expression of confidence wavers momentarily as he listens to Kim as he approaches, but before he can comment on it, Chan also races over to the group of captains from surveying inside of the fortress.  

“Commander,” he starts off, a thin sheen of sweat coating his brow, glinting in the daylight now hanging overhead, “It’s believed that the men who led this are heading for the heart of the fortress to try and kill the loyalists trying to run for it.” 

The commander thinks after listening to the cumulative reports, contemplating as to what the next move should be. Although Youngmin is the recognized formal leader of the Hwarang, you’d come to learn the most major decisions were given to Jihoon to make. This was no exception, the crowd of captains anticipating his orders while Kimsu was speaking with his own men of what to do next.  

“It looks like we’ve got our work cut out for us,” Jihoon’s lips curve into a small smile after a moment of silence. “Kim, take your men to the pass to deal with any incoming loyalists. Lee, Choi,” he turns to Chan and Hansol, “follow the men into the fortress, but make sure to keep an ear out if Kim needs any reinforcements at the pass.” 

There’s nods and affirmations from the captains and officer before the commander turns to Youngmin, “I’m sorry for giving you the hardest one, Chief. Can you speak with the higher ups back at the main camp about a punitive measure for the group that got here before us? As far as both Kimsu and I were aware they weren’t supposed to do that, and I’ll bet they’re doing more in there than just routing out the loyalists. If we’re to do anything about that then we’ll need the higher ups permission.” 

While an independently run body from the Crown’s army or guard, the Hwarang still need permission to act under that guise of pseudo-Crown rule and dole out their justice. 

“I’m sure I can do something about it, and if not me, my father,” Youngmin nods, a smile forming as he thinks it over. You’re not sure who Youngmin’s father is, but if his son is the leader of the Hwarang, his position in the Crown’s council must be higher than anyone else’s father in the organization. It would still be tricky to gain that permission with all of the Hwarang naysayers and adversaries within the council.  

“Eunseok, can you go with him?” Jihoon asks and turns to their youngest member, “Someone has to keep an eye on him.” 

“Of course,” He nods, “I’ll do my best.”  

Jihoon smiles wryly at him before turning to the remaining Hwarang. “The rest of you are following me into the fortress and to the Northern Gate. As for you,” he looks directly at you, “You can’t go with Youngmin, but other than that it’s up to you.”

You know he doesn’t know where to place you. It’s not as if you’re one of the Hwarang he could command to a role and set you there. Maybe having you decide your own fate was a way to take the burden off his shoulders.  

“I’ll go with you, then,” You say after a moment of contemplation. Along with Jihoon, a group of Hwarang, and a group of regular soldiers, you’ll race into Ongsan and try to open the Northern Gate for the King’s garrison to make way into the fortress by suppressing the loyalists inside.  

The groups disperse shortly after, Mingyu and his men heading to the pass, Youngmin and Eunseok leaving for the main camp, Chan and Hansol leaving for the heart of the fortress, and then Jihoon and you making way to the Northern Gate from inside the fortress itself.  

Jihoon, you and the group of soldiers accompanying you race through the fortress. Seeing it from the outside had hidden how expansive it is on the inside, large courtyards and twisting hallways have your mind running in circles as you slowly run out of breath. You come upon another seemingly empty courtyard before stopping in your tracks. There was someone standing in the middle of it, someone wearing neither Silla nor Baekje armor. In fact, they are dressed more like a noble than a fighter. 

The sun is shining so harshly onto the courtyard as you approach that it’s hard to get a good look at his face. It’s obscured in the sunlight and the light yellow of his robes and the glinting silver of a blade in his hand is doing little to help that. There’s a strange aura surrounding him, almost as if he's waiting for something to happen. 

Jihoon, perceptive to that, motions for everyone to stop before encroaching on the character. The Hwarang stop in their tracks, save for one man too eager or arrogant to follow the commander’s orders and charges towards the figure with his sword out. The stranger seems to have only waved his arm once before the Hwarang falls to the ground, the dull sound of his body hitting the stone below echoing around the courtyard, the clangor of battle raging in the distance.  

“What the hell?!” Junhui shouts out, shoving his way through the throng of Hwarang and over to the fallen man. The man’s unresponsive, a thick pool of blood beginning to stain the ground under him. The rest of the men, first taken aback by the stranger, now glare at him for the loss of their comrade.

“You’re Hwarang, aren’t you?” The stranger speaks up, his blade tapping against the agate stone of the walkway, “I can tell because of those blue robes of yours.” He sighs out, “A bunch of pretty nobles playing soldier, aren’t you all old enough to know to stop playing pretend?” 

The man’s words are enough to make the already on-edge men agitated. Egged on by the harsh ridicule of someone they’d only just come upon. Each Hwarang, either noble or not, had their reason for joining. Taking their choice into question was cruel and that was clearly painted on their faces now.  

“First, you ruin my plans at Wonweol and now you’re trying to play hero,” They snicker, “You’re not even real soldiers, are you?” His gaze travels down to the fallen Hwarang momentarily before lazily and almost arrogantly meeting Jihoon’s eyes, “I’d turn back if I were you, unless you want to end up like your friend here.” 

“You’re the swordsman who beat Seungkwan at Wonweol?” Jihoon asks, the tension in the air thick and palpable as he speaks. “I heard you were quite good, but these are pretty big words coming from such a small man.” The smile on the commander’s face is anything but amicable.  

“And I heard that you all were talented, for what you are, but this sorry display is telling me otherwise.” The now adversary snickers, once again glancing at the dying, or maybe he was already dead, Hwarang. “The man I fought at the inn, his name is Seungkwan? It’s a bit of a stretch to call him a real swordsman.” 

You know from watching the men train that Seungkwan is skilled with a sword, but he had been injured by this man. Is his prowess with a blade more prolific than the Hwarang captain’s? 

“Insult Boo all you want,” Junhui stands from the body of the crumpled soldier to face the stranger, his hand reaching for the sword at his hip. “But why did you kill this man?” The hiss of the steel leaving the sheath cries out as he tears it from the scabbard, the captain’s teeth baring. “If I don’t like your answer then I won’t hesitate to tear you down right here.” 

“How prideful,” you can almost hear him roll his eyes, “The king says for you to ‘Jump’ and you say, ‘How high?’. Why are you chasing after men who’ve deserted their own movement? Or are you trying to let your own men in at the Northern Gate? Either way, your combatants are going to kill themselves before they’ll let you take this place by full force.” 

You glance at Jihoon and the men around him, not even one looking as if the other’s words were outlandish. It seems as if the man in front of you had stopped your assault on the fortress to spare the pride of the Baekje loyalists. From the stranger’s point of view, you can understand what he was doing and why he feels right about it. But that gave him no right to slay one of the Hwarang.  

“Is taking someone’s life for the sake of another’s pride just?” You speak up, distraught from this situation entirely, “The only one who can save your pride is you, not letting that responsibility fall into someone else’s hands.”  

A grin splits onto the other’s face, “There’s some truth in that, I suppose. Are you saying that I should let the Hwarang demolish any pride these men have just to simply gain favor with the Crown?” Despite the curvature of his lips, his voice is not amused. 

“That’s not what I…” The reddish-brown tint of his eyes scrutinizes you as you try to justify yourself, quickly falling away with the harshness of his demeanor.  

“Here I was, thinking you were trying to say something intelligent,” Jihoon steps in once your voice trails off, “but you’re just acting like a child. This is war, not a council meeting debating ethics!” 

“What did you just say?” Knuckles turning white with the newfound grip on his blade, the stranger questions accusingly at Jihoon.  

“The loyalists started a fight knowing their kingdom had been defeated already, and now they’re running away in shame because they’re too cowardly to face the consequence of their actions,” Jihoon argues, a heated tone to his words, “They don’t deserve honor! They’re traitors to their new kingdom by trying to incite a rebellion, you think that deserves an honorable death?”

 “Then you mean that they should’ve been prepared to die for their cause when they started this battle?”

“Anyone who starts a fight for a cause they aren’t willing to die for doesn’t know what it means to be a warrior.” Jihoon states, his hand hovering over the hilt of his own sword. “If they have an ounce of pride left in them, wouldn’t dying by your enemy’s hand while trying to stop them be better than falling onto your own sword?”  

Jihoon’s own conception of honor and pride aren’t something he can compromise easily, having been ingrained into him at an early age. But even then, you can tell that even if he and the stranger spoke for hours, they would never understand each other’s points of view. The commander finally draws his weapon, Junhui dropping into a fighting stance when he does so. Before either of the two do anything, Jihoon whispers something hastily under his breath that causes Junhui to relent his stance, sheath his weapon, and step back into the group of Hwarang.  

“You don’t seem like a coward,” Jihoon states, “So are you ready to accept the consequences of what happens when you kill one of my men?” 

“Those are some big words,” The stranger says as he raises his sword from his lax position, the gore from the fallen Hwarang still clinging to the blade, “Do you really think you can defeat me?” 

The answer isn’t verbal, but a ringing sound as their blades meet. They step back from one another, Jihoon’s grip tightening on his sword as he glares at the other. Now, the commander’s skill seems unrivaled but the thought that this stranger had beaten Seungkwan, the Hwarang’s best swordsman, lingers in the back of your mind as you watch.  

Next to you, you can see Junhui reaching for his own sword. If he were to leap into the fight, it would most certainly help Jihoon gain the upper hand. 

“You can’t,” you say and reach out, your hand falling onto his forearm before he turns to look at you. Meeting and fighting with this stranger aren’t why you and the Hwarang are here. The mission is to aid the forces at the Northern Gate. It isn’t any question whether this man was an enemy, a dangerous one, at that.  

Even if Jihoon can’t defeat him, he would never let the Hwarang abandon their mission, especially after his speech. 

Junhui turns away from you and watches the two men clash for a moment more, gritting his teeth and finally pulling his hand away from his sword. “Lee, I’m going to take your men for a second if that’s okay with you!”  

“Just go already, loudmouth!” Jihoon says as he once again falls away from the stranger, “They’re all yours!” 

“Alright!” Junhui calls out and turns to the men, “We’re heading for the Northern Gate, run straight there and don’t stop until those Baekje bastards have been put in their place!” 

The soldiers roar with a renewed vigor and begin to follow the captain. 

The stranger huffs something out as he watches the men run off, his hand clenching his sword as if he’s about to follow them. 

“You’re not fighting them, so pay attention,” Jihoon calls out to pull the stranger’s focus back to him. “If you don’t, I’ll cut you down from behind instead.” 

“Don’t get in my way!” The stranger shouts, bringing his sword down to meet Jihoon’s, the swing causing Jihoon to reel back once receiving it. 

Now that there was more of a distance between the two, the stranger’s gaze once again travels to Junhui and the running Hwarang. You think for a moment to stop running with the men and try to stand your ground with Jihoon, but relent after a moment, continuing to go further on with the rest of the troops.  

“Keep running!” Jihoon calls out, closing the distance between himself and the stranger, positioning his sword upwards once more.  

“You don’t even know your limit,” The stranger scoffs. 

You stop for a moment, finding yourself unable to keep up with the men. Looking back to the fray, you part your lips and shout out, “We’ll see you at the Northern Gates!” Leaving Jihoon without a word felt… wrong, so you yell out the not-so-subtle words of encouragement as you depart once more. “Come back to us in one piece!” 

Jihoon almost laughs at this, devolving it into a small chuckle as his gaze narrows at his adversary. “Who do you think I am?” A cocksureness riding along his words as you run past, only hoping that he would survive the encounter. 

By the time you and the rest of the Hwarang make it to the Northern Gates, it seems as if the King’s garrison has broken through already. There’re skirmishes happening all around the entrance but are soon quelled by the introduction of the Hwarang into the fight. Jihoon hadn’t arrived as the battles wane to a close and the sun begins to sink down into the sky. Several higher ups order a few of the captains to look for any remaining loyalists in the compound, leaving you to stand and wait for a sign of the commander or a returning captain. 

“I’m sure they’ll be back soon,” a voice says to your right. You’re met with the face of Officer Jeon, or Wonwoo as you’ve come to learn. Like Chan, he acts as a spy for the Hwarang but typically deals with Yamato forces, but he had accompanied the men to Ongsan this time, only showing how much more this mission meant to the Hwarang. “I know they will.” 

You can only nod your head in response and scan the area, looking for one of the faces you hope on seeing return. Every passing moment feels like an eternity, slowly inching by as the sun sinks lower and lower into the sky.  

It’s dusk when you see a figure emerge from the depths of the fortress, the darkening sky obscuring most of their features, but as they near the now lit courtyard you stand in, you can see that it’s a familiar face.

“Commander!” You shout out and race over to him, relief flooding your system. 

“I’m glad to see you’re alright,” Wonwoo says, following closely behind you as you stop in front of Jihoon. “It doesn't even look like you’ve been hurt.” 

In the light of the fires, you can see that the Hwarang hadn’t been injured, but he wears a dark expression over his face. 

“I hoped we would have a real fight, but it looks like it was over almost as soon as you all arrived,” he frowns, “held up by a Hwarang opposer, no less.” 

“Who was he?” Wonwoo asks, tilting his head slightly. 

“His name is Hong Jisoo. I don’t know if his father’s a part of the council or if he’s just a lackey under one of them, but he’s clearly very anti-us.” 

“But if he’s still working under Silla rule, why did he try to stop us from going after Baekje?” You question, confused by the swordsman’s actions, weren’t both sides there to stop the loyalists? Something about this isn’t settling right with you. “Does that mean he was betraying Silla?” 

“I don’t know about that, but I do think he was trying to stop us from getting here,” Jihoon sighs out, closing his eyes as if to recall the situation, “The soldiers who broke us up were also confused by whatever game he was trying to play. But they didn’t try to command him to do anything after we’d stopped fighting, so he must mean something to them.” 

“He must have some notoriety in their ranks, then,” Wonwoo muses. 

“He’s a lazy piece of shit who uses his rank or his money to do whatever he wants, more like,” Jihoon says with a bitter edge to his voice. “If he flaunts that around he has no right to try and teach me what his definition of pride is.” 

Before Jihoon can ramble and rant about Jisoo, Junhui and the detachment of men he’d left with returns to the battle site. Junhui stops for a moment upon seeing the commander before breaking out into a large grin. The smile doesn’t last long though as he approaches, the curvature of his grin turning downwards. 

“We found a few runaways, but they were already dying or dead by the time we got there.” At Junhui’s words you feel your heart drop. It’s not that you were sad that the loyalists were dead or that the Hwarang hadn’t been able to capture any one of them, only that more lives had been lost in the conflict.  

“Honorable suicide, then?” Jihoon nods, not sounding angry at the result. “Good for them.” 

“Good?” You ask without thinking, how is that ‘good’? Only hours prior the commander was trying to stop the loyalists from succeeding in that mission, but now that it’s been done he’s lauding them. 

“You don’t understand,” the commander says and looks towards you. “As Hwarang, this isn’t good for us. We failed and let them kill themselves. They’re dead, what good would it be for me to ignore what they’ve done? It doesn’t matter if they’re an enemy or my friend, a man who dies with his honor intact deserves at least some respect.” 

“I guess that makes some sense…” You mutter, not fully understanding the reasoning or what he was trying to convey.  

His expression softens slightly, “The longer you stay with us, the more you’re likely to understand our mindset.” 

Now that this group has come back together, you make your way to the campsite to meet with the rest of the Hwarang you’d parted ways with that morning.  

The event of the loyalist takeover of Ongsan and their eventual expulsion from the fortress comes to be known as the Ongsan Rebellion to the citizens of Silla. And while the Hwarang had been called to action, their efforts were stymied with unforeseen circumstances and were able to find little in the way of gaining major approval with the Crown. Communication with the King’s garrison and the army alongside him had been poor and much of the Hwarang’s time had been spent waiting for battle with the rest of the reserve troops. 

And even when they were called to arms, the Hwarang found a strange opponent at every turn:  

Hong Jisoo, who had defeated Seungkwan at Wonweol, had claimed to be a member of the pro-Watch camp of the council during his encounter with Jihoon. It still isn’t determined who his family is and why his stance is so firmly against the Hwarang. 

Hwan Minhyun, the man who had injured Soonyoung at Wonweol was also in attendance at the battle. While little more is known about him, he had claimed to be in allegiance with Hong Jisoo. 

And then there was Xu Minghao, who also fought along with the prior two men with little mention of his full allegiance.  

Whoever these men are, it’s clear to see that they’re no allies of the Hwarang. In fact, it seems as if they’re set to become one of their greatest enemies.  

The battle claimed the lives of thousands of men, the king ordering his garrison to behead any survivors they found. Even then, some Baekje loyalists were able to escape westward, further into the territory that used to be their homeland. With the end of the Ongsan Rebellion, the king passes an edict labelling any man that fought alongside the Baekje loyalists to be branded a traitor in the eyes of the Crown and an enemy of the court. 

𝔖𝔢𝔭𝔱𝔢𝔪𝔟𝔢𝔯 8𝔱𝔥, 661 - 𝔖𝔢𝔬𝔯𝔞𝔟𝔢𝔬𝔩, 𝔎𝔦𝔫𝔤𝔡𝔬𝔪 𝔬𝔣 𝔖𝔦𝔩𝔩𝔞 With the events of the raid on Wonweol Inn and the Ongsan Rebellion taking place within only a few short weeks of one another, it was causing a certain unrest to take hold within citizens of Silla. The Hwarang are doing their best to double up on their work to make citizens feel protected, but with the return of most of the Guard and Watch, it’s difficult for them to receive missions as big as the raids and rebellion had been. And even if they are assigned a task, the Crown overworks them, seemingly wanting to bleed them dry.  

The Crown’s approval of any of their missions spreads them thin, even with the newer recruits they’d received from Podang and Gochang, it isn’t enough to keep an appropriate amount of people to instill peace. After many long and arduous meetings, it’s decided that Soonyoung, to slowly introduce him back into his role after his injury, will travel to Hanseong, one of Silla’s northernmost cities, to do preliminary scouting for future recruits.  

The burning sun hits your face as Youngmin and you see Soonyoung off, a bag slung around his shoulder having been packed the night prior.  

“I’ll be on my way now,” The Hwarang nods at the two of you, “Make sure no one gets in trouble while I’m away!” 

“I’ll try my best,” you smile at him. His presence would be missed at the headquarters, even if the other men didn’t want to acknowledge it.  

“Find us a solid list of men, it doesn’t matter if they’re nobles or not,” Youngmin notes, putting his hand under his chin for a moment. “But seeing as it’s Gochang, you might encounter more nobles there than usual. I’ll join you there next month to see who you’ve recruited.” 

“Isn’t there someone who you’re looking for?” You turn to Youngmin, “I remember you mentioning someone once.” 

“Oh, did we not tell you?” Youngmin sounds a tad miffed, “His name is Kim Gongmyung. Classically trained and the rumor is that he’s very well versed in strategy.”  

“To be honest, I haven’t met him but only once or twice,” Soonyoung relents, “But at the least I’m sure he’ll let me speak to him.” 

“That’s all we need,” Youngmin nods with a small smile, “His father’s on our side in the king’s council, and if we approach him kindly, I’m sure it’ll be within his interest to help us.” The leader seems confident just by his facial expression, but there’s an air of unsureness coming from the Hwarang.  

“Alright, I’m going!” He lets that discontentment fall from his features seconds later, nodding his head before speaking. Soonyoung then turns to you, “I’ll do my best to find any information on Heo while I’m there, so just hang on until I get back!” 

“Be careful!” You call out to him as he turns on his heels, bounding out from the main hall and towards the exit. As you watch him leave, and the smaller he seems to get the further he is from you and Youngmin, the melancholier you feel. Youngmin looks different though, a small smile residing on his face as he watches the Hwarang set out. “You look excited, are you thinking of all the new members you’re getting?” 

“Of course, seeing out numbers increase is great. Even more so if they’re strong and able,” He says as Soonyoung finally disappears outside of the main entrance.  

𝔖𝔢𝔭𝔱𝔢𝔪𝔟𝔢𝔯 27𝔱𝔥, 661 - 𝔖𝔢𝔬𝔯𝔞𝔟𝔢𝔬𝔩, 𝔎𝔦𝔫𝔤𝔡𝔬𝔪 𝔬𝔣 𝔖𝔦𝔩𝔩𝔞 Time passes quickly after Soonyoung’s departure. So fast that the date of Youngmin’s departure for Hanseong arrives with little resistance. The morning before he’s meant to depart, you find him standing in one of the compound’s courtyards, quietly watching the wind pass through the leaves overhead. 

“Is everything alright?” You ask as you approach him quietly, not wanting to startle him. 

“Hm, oh, hello,” he looks at you with a small smile, “I’m alright, are you doing okay?”

 “I am,” you nod, “I’m just thinking about how you’re leaving tomorrow.” 

“I see,” he says with a short chuckle, “I can’t leave Soonyoung alone for too long, can I? Who knows what sort of trouble he’s already found himself in?” 

“I’m sure your absence here is going to affect the men like Soonyoung’s is,” you sigh out, already knowing the feeling of having such a pivotal character of the captains gone for nearly a month now. Youngmin is the Hwarang’s leader. If anything, this will be a larger blow than Soonyoung’s departure. 

“It’s only a month,” he tries to reassure you, “I’ve been gone for longer before. And besides, Jihoon will make sure everything runs smoothly while I’m away.” Youngmin probably isn’t aware that his kindness and Soonyoung’s strange but bright personality were things that kept you mentally intact day after day here. With both absent from the headquarters, you’re not sure what kind of emotional blow it’ll have on you.

Your discontentment with the situation must have placated itself on your face because Youngmin looks at you now with a sad, small smile.  

“Is there anything you want me to bring back for you?” He questions in hopes that it might make you feel better, “I’m going to stop in Toehwa-hyeon on my way back, did you want a memento from your hometown?” 

“Oh no,” you shake your head, grateful for his offer, “You don’t have to worry about me.” 

“Are you sure?” Youngmin pushes a little more, “If there’s anything I can do for you, and as long as it’s within my power, I will.” You don’t want to ask any more of him, he’s so accommodating already that you’d just feel wrong in asking him to bring you something. 

“There is one thing…” You pause for a moment, “Could you train me?” 

“Are you-?” Youngmin’s brow furrows as he thinks of your statement, “Are you talking about fighting?” 

“I am,” you nod quickly. 

“Oh no… I think that would be a bad idea,” he sounds cautious, tentative, “I get really aggressive when I teach, if I ended up injuring you, I don’t think I’d be able to forgive myself.” 

“I see…” You probably sound defeated, your shoulders shrugging downwards at his words.  

“But that statement came out of nowhere… Did you have a reason for asking?”

“If I’m going to help watch over Shoshin while you’re gone, I want to be able to instead of hiding while everyone else puts in the effort.” 

Youngmin chuckles nervously at that sentiment, “But you’re not one of the warriors, so I doubt you’d ever have to raise your sword to an enemy.” 

“You’re right, but I still want to be able to protect myself if something were to happen,” you insist gently, trying to sound as reasonable as possible. 

Youngmin mulls it over for a moment before perking up into a smile, “Well, if that’s the case, I’d love to teach you a few things.” 

The leader runs around for a moment, returning to you with a pair of practice swords and two cords so you can tie up your sleeves without getting hindered by them. Rather than use the traditional wooden practice swords of the Hwarang, Youngmin’s opted for the lighter bamboo variant as to not accidentally injure you with the splintery cousin.  

“Let’s start,” he says as he stands beside you, his own bamboo sword raised outwards. “I’ll warn you though, the style we teach at the Kwak school and the Hwarang are a little… arduous.” 

“I’m ready,” you state firmly and raise your own bamboo sword out to the open space in front of you. 

“Then let’s begin with your stance,” he says, looking towards your feet with a scrutinizing gaze, “You mentioned you’d trained before, right?” 

“It was mostly for self-defense, but I was taught how to use the blade I have with me,” you say as you look down to your feet, trying to position them correctly.  

“Then I won’t have to worry about teaching you a new form,” he notes, “Just get into the stance you’re most comfortable with.”

With the smooth grip of the practice sword in hand, you fall back into the stance you have memorized from all your practice sessions. Your hold on the hilt of the weapon tightens as you await instruction. 

“Too weak!” Youngmin shouts out, different from the calm tone his voice typically carries. “If someone’s coming from your front to attack you, the first thing they’ll reach is your sword and your arm. Tighten your grip more or they’ll knock the sword right out of your hand, be wary of that.”

“Okay!” You nod and try to hold onto the sword even tighter, the knuckles on your hand beginning to ache with the strain. It was somewhat endearing to know that he isn’t treating you any differently because you’re a girl.

“Now you’re holding on too tight,” he notices the tremble from the overworked muscles of your hand, watching the fake blade quiver in the air. “Because you’ll be a bit weaker than most you’ll ever fight against, you should try your best to avoid someone attacking you from the front. To do that you’ll need to dodge or redirect the blow from their sword, but since you’re holding onto it so tightly…” 

You’re not sure how much time has passed since Youngmin had begun his instruction, but the sun is hanging low in the sky now as you try and retain everything, he’s been teaching you.

“It’s getting late.” He muses after you finish swinging the sword for what feels like the thousandth time. It’s cause enough for you to look up at the reds, oranges and purples that are beginning to saturate the sky. And almost as if you’re pulled from your training, fatigue sets into your bones and causes you to collapse to your knees. Your limbs shake with exhaustion, clothes dampened with sweat, your breath hollow as you try to suck in more air than your lungs allow you. 

Youngmin looks over to you as you collapse, his stern expression from training you softening to one of concern. “I’m sorry!” He says, a panicked tone overtaking him, “I got so into it that I pushed you way too hard!” 

“I’m fine,” you breathe out, offering him a weak smile, “You ended up teaching me like that even though I’m not your student, thank you.”  

“I see,” he doesn’t sound fully convinced, but the worried edge to his voice subsides a bit, “If that’s how you feel then I’m glad I could help.” His face holds a mixture of guilt and hesitation, though, “I am sorry, I haven’t fully trained someone in years, and I suppose I went a little overboard.” 

“You mean before you became the Hwarang’s leader?” You ask as you shakily rise to your feet. 

“Right,” he nods with a nostalgic smile, “Jihoon, Seungkwan, and Eunseok all attended my family’s school. Seungcheol, Soonyoung, Junhui and Mingyu joined us afterwards, Hansol never fully joined but would stop by often. We don’t have time for it now, but we used to test our skills out against each other nearly every day.” 

The topic of the ‘old days’ often came up when the captains were tipsy or drunk on their alcohol. Youngmin’s father had been high up in the Crown’s council when he was alive, but later left to start up his own fighting school, much like Lee Alcheon had done. 

“All of that training must’ve been tough,” you wonder aloud.

“It was,” Youngmin nods in agreement, “But it was fulfilling, in a different way than what our work is now.” He gazes off into nothing as he reminisces, causing a pang of envy to invade you for a moment.  

“Earlier you said you weren’t my student,” Youngmin speaks up, looking at you, “Since I am technically a master of my family’s school, and I spent today training you… I think that more or less makes you a disciple of the style as well. That would make you a student like a few of the captains.” 

His words cause a smile to break out on your face, “Thank you.” Obviously, it isn’t an official method, and it was hardly a full day’s worth of instruction, but it made an unbridled happiness bubble within you. “I’m so grateful for what you’ve taught me today.”

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𝖍𝖜𝖆𝖗𝖆𝖓𝖌 - 𝖕𝖗𝖔𝖑𝖔𝖌𝖚𝖊

a seventeen inspired historical, route-based au.

pairing: route specific member x female!reader genre: historical au, fluff, angst, smut (later routes), supernatural members: choi seungcheol, yoon jeonghan (later), hong jisoo (later), wen junhui, kwon soonyoung, jeon wonwoo (later), lee jihoon, lee seokmin (later), kim mingyu, xu minghao (later), boo seungkwan, choi hansol (later), lee chan warnings: crass humor and language, blood, violence, mentions of suicide, alcohol, minor character death, 660's sexism, crossdressing word count: 11.2k

in 662 𝔰𝔦𝔩𝔩𝔞, you leave your hometown in search for your father, a physician whose work takes him far from home and oft to the battlefields of the kingdom. but with no word from him in months, you disguise yourself as a man and head to seorabeol, the kingdom’s capital, in search of him. it’s not until you become involved with a group that calls themselves the 𝔥𝔴𝔞𝔯𝔞𝔫𝔤 that things begin to unravel at the seams.

𝔯𝔬𝔲𝔱𝔢 𝔤𝔲𝔦𝔡𝔢 || 𝔰𝔳𝔱 𝔪𝔞𝔰𝔱𝔢𝔯𝔩𝔦𝔰𝔱

𝔍𝔞𝔫𝔲𝔞𝔯𝔶 3𝔯𝔡, 661 - 𝔖𝔢𝔬𝔯𝔞𝔟𝔢𝔬𝔩, 𝔎𝔦𝔫𝔤𝔡𝔬𝔪 𝔬𝔣 𝔖𝔦𝔩𝔩𝔞 It has been two months since your father left. And those two months felt like a lifetime. It isn't that you are so solely dependent on your caretaker that you’d let your home and his practice fall into ruin. It’s just that he said he’d be gone for at most two weeks while he attended to a patient in Seorabeol. He’d neglected to write, forgotten, maybe. But he isn't a careless man, you know that as much as he. Perhaps that’s why you find yourself so stricken with apprehension as you near the gates of Silla’s capital, the dirt under foot hard in the dead of winter.

The gates of the city stand menacingly in front of you, the grip you have on the knapsack slung over your shoulder tightens as you begin to notice the mass of people making their way in and out of the city. You have to dodge every nudging elbow prodding into your back to move you forward, duck or sway when a merchant’s wares almost topple from their carts and try not to make eye contact with the soldiers who line the entrance. 

Eventually, you make it into the city with little to no fuss raised about you, everyone seems so deeply enthralled with their own business you are easily out of their minds. Yet now that you stand in the streets of Seorabeol, you don’t know which way to go. It isn't as if your father had left a directory for you to follow him up on, nor had any of his letters detailed his whereabouts in the capital in full. So, you sigh and continue forward, beginning to scan the crowds in search of a face you haven’t seen in months.

Despite the golden sun shining down onto the Kingdom’s capital, Seorabeol lies under a blanket of cold air. And despite the layers of cloth and fur adorning your shoulders the wintery chill sets into your bones as you continue along the streets.

 Through the passing greetings of friends, the shouts of merchants and the bickering of their patrons, the voices collide together in a symphony of noise, you can’t seem to pull one apart from the other. No faces look at you with recognition, but why would they? This isn't your home, and you are surely just another visitor that they’d forget as soon as you leave their line of sight. 

You had come to the capital when you were a child, your father had been called upon by some aristocratic family, but you could scarcely remember who it had been. After the patient had been treated the pair of you had retreated to your village some distance away from Seorabeol, the memory of this place and its people quickly leaving your subconscious.  

Even now, after the partial loss of that memory, you can recall how cold the city had been compared to how cold it is now. It might be due to the winter chill that resides like a phantom over the streets, but this feels different, more ominous now that you’re old enough to realize it. 

 Had you been right to leave your home? 

The question plagues you as you wander the winding streets, your legs tired from your trek and eyes even heavier from the lost sleep over the course of your father’s absence. You question, ask if anyone had heard your father’s name or had seen him before, but conclude that those who had seen or met him had done so weeks prior.

And then you ask of Namekawa Yasuo, an acquaintance of your father’s. He is another physician that might know where he resides. But that inquiry leaves you with a snickers and a turn of the other’s heels. It is most likely that your father and his friend had ventured on to another town from here. You are alone once again.

Before you realize it, dusk has fallen over the city, the gray clouds beginning to unleash a torrent of snowy flurries that make the streets become almost unnavigable. Your hands pull your overcoat together, trying to find warmth where you already know there won't be. If you don’t want to freeze to death, you’ll have to find somewhere to stay the night or die by freezing or by some wandering bandit.

“Excuse me,” you call out as you stop traversing the road, turning to the side and over to a small stall aligning the street. Eyes locking with those of a miserly sort of merchant, you poise the question, “Do you know where the nearest inn is?” 

For a moment you've forgotten that you’re wearing your father’s clothes, so when the grizzled voice of the merchant asks if you’re looking for a pleasure house to get lost, you are somewhat puzzled. It's only with a moment of insistence that you’re just looking for a normal inn, do they comply. 

“Past the butcher’s, it’s cheap enough.” He turns away from you with that final statement, continuing to close up his stall and lock his goods away until the next morning. 

A quick nod and you’re off, the lanterns aligning the street only helping when the flurries die down a bit and you’re able to see several meters in front of you. You quicken your pace whenever you hear someone behind you, all too skittish to get out of this outbreak of snow. It isn't as if you fear the city’s inhabitants, but you’d heard warnings throughout your life that traveling alone at nighttime isn't ever a great idea. Maybe being dressed as a man should put you more at ease, but the message ingrained into your brain is even more overpowering. 

The city grows even darker as you fail to find the inn that the merchant had mentioned, had you already passed it? Ahead of you looks to be one of the agate walls aligning the city, stopping you dead in your tracks as you think of where to go next.

“Hey, kid.” A voice calls out behind you, it sounds disjointed, slurred. Are they drunk?

You spin on your heels, your hand reaching for your bag, for the small blade you’d tucked away in case of an instance like this. But it isn't just one man, it is three men swaying on their feet. Even at some distance away you can smell the sickeningly sweet scent of their perfumes and notice the bright colors their robes are made of. They are of some standing in society, but with the way they are presenting themselves, you suspect they are of the aristocracy’s lower ranks.

“Can I help you?” Using a lower register of your voice as you speak, as if it’ll somehow cast some sort of intimidation onto the men, you nod at them. Your fingers gently undo the string on your bag, reaching around for your blade. When you were younger your father had encouraged lessons, somewhat breaking the mold as for what was appropriate for a girl to learn, but your father had always been the unconventional sort.

“That’s a pretty blade,” one notes as you slip the weapon from the bag, the sheen from the hilt catching in the light of the streetlamp above. It is then you realize that they are probably more interested in the family heirloom than they are in you. “Seems a little extravagant for a commoner like you to have.”

“Why don’t you hand it over? We’d put it to much better use,” another snickers, stumbling forward and reaching his hand out towards you. Their heavily jeweled wrist chimes as their hand outstretches towards you, the gold glimmering in the now open moonlight.  

“But this is…” you hesitate, understanding that they wouldn’t comprehend its sentimentality. The handle of the blade is cool under your grip as your knees tense. It doesn’t look as if any of the men are going to stop harassing you until they get what they are after, your only choice now is to get away from them at any cost.

So, you run. Feet slapping atop the ground, the tops of your shoes becoming wetted by the puddles of melted snow you step into as you bolt down a side street.

“Son of a— get back here!” You hear one of them call out after you, the collective sounds of their footfalls chasing after you only seconds later. 

It seems like you were running for hours, your heartbeat loud in your ears and the cold air tearing at your lungs with every breath you inhale. They are still chasing after you, they sound more distant now, but their curses and footfalls still echo the street behind you. You spot an alley and decide to duck into it for an attempt at eluding them.

There are several long sheets of wood leaning against the side of one of the houses, finding it an apt hiding place, you crawl under them, trying to calm your breathing as you hear the footsteps of the nobles approach. 

“Are you sure it was this one?” You hear a voice after a few seconds at the opening of the alley, the labored breathing tells you it is one of your pursuers. 

“It had to have been,” the voices and footfalls edging closer, the clinking of their belts signaling their proximity. 

You hold your breath, expecting to be found out any second. But you’re not, instead the air goes quiet, the sound of the wind whistling through the alleyway all you can hear. It isn’t until a few seconds later that one of the men cries out in pain.

Before you can peek out from behind the board you stop yourself, not wanting to be caught by those men or whoever had caught them. 

“What do you think you’re doing!” One of the men cries out, you hear a blade being unsheathed as they speak. 

Another blade unsheathed, the sounds of iron on iron clanging through the air for a few seconds before one of the men speaks out again, “Why aren’t you dying?” A few bated breaths, “Jinyoung, we should get out of here—”

Something akin to primal fear takes over you at that moment, locking you in place, unable to move for a moment. What is out there? What are they fighting? With your mind flying with all sorts of gruesome imagery, you barely have time to comprehend what you are doing. Your head peeks out from your hiding spot and into the alleyway. 

There’s another clangor of steel as you look, the light from the street reflecting off one of the blades as two people are interlocked in a fight. The only figure you can see fighting is donned in a light blue robe, had they saved you?

Something of a menacing laugh emits from them, their blade once again falling onto the other’s as one of your pursuers cries out for help. Your savior says nothing as he stops his attacks, only now moving to raise his blade over his head and bringing it down to fatally slash against the chest of his foe. The struck noble lets out an anguished yell as he falls to his knees, the sword in hand clattering to the ground as he reaches to try and staunch the blood flow from the gash in his chest. 

A high-pitched laugh overtakes the man’s anguish, the man donned in blue still standing over his opponent and nearly snickering at his demise. You have to hold your hands to your mouth to stop you from gasping when the blue-clad man raises his sword once more. He begins hacking away at the now vanquished noble, his blows tearing into flesh more so like a butcher’s knife than a sword. There isn't skill, just a raw brutality behind every blow. 

The screams grow quiet, just wet bellows that still after a moment more. Your breath heavy and your chest heaving after watching that, you’d just witnessed that man’s murder. Wanting to get away from this situation, you fall back under the cover of the wood, your back hitting the house’s exterior as you try and keep yourself together. The man keeps hacking away, the splatter of blood on the ground and onto the nearby walls almost causing you to be sick to your stomach.

This isn't human, it couldn’t be. Sure, it’s a man committing the act but the brutality of it is more akin to a beast. It is as if they’d forgone any sense and given way into a psychotic madness. 

A coppery tinge to the air almost makes you gag; the scent of the deceased man’s blood has risen to greet you. How are you going to get out of this?

You pull your hands away from your face, the cold air meeting your skin all too unpleasantly. If you stay in place the killer would easily find you if he wants to, perhaps your best bet is to outrun him like you had the now deceased nobles. So, you brace yourself, pushing yourself up to your knees and prepare to make a dash down the alleyway and towards the opening on the other end. But as you do, you find that your joints have locked, sending you stumbling forward as you stand and knocking the sheets of wood over. With a dreadful fear encasing you, you turn to see that it hadn’t been just one man to kill the three that are after you, but two others had joined him as well, all wearing the light blue robes. All of them drenched in the blood of the fallen nobles. 

Their eyes bore into yours, smiles etching their way onto their faces as if you’ve become the lamb brought to the slaughter. You have to run, have to get away. But you can’t, your legs are locked in place out of the sheer madness of this situation. They laugh as they turn towards you, wordless in any other manner as they begin to saunter over to you, their silvery hair and reddened eyes looking almost ghostly in the moonlight.

You are going to die. You can’t even muster a scream to call out to any city patrol, nor move your limbs with how wrought with fear you are. 

Eyes closing as you begin to accept your fate, the sounds of their footsteps nearing, you can almost sense them lifting their blades to cut you down before— A whirring through the air and a grunt from one of the men in front of you has your eyes flying open. Someone had shot an arrow and hit one of the silver-haired men, causing them to stumble back a step or two. In theory, a blow like that should have downed a man, an arrow to the chest isn’t a superficial wound by any means, but it looks like the man is more angrier now rather than injured.

The trio raise their swords, their target now someone behind you, and before you're able to turn and see who or what it is, a glint of a silver blade flashes across your vision and cuts in front of you. You’re able to feel the warm blood splatter across your cheek before you register what just happened in front of you. Now the trio of men lay on the ground, dead by the looks of it, as a long gash seems to have torn across their bodies. The same queasiness from before begins to invade you as you wipe the gore from your cheek onto your sleeve, but before you’re able to do anything else about it, you hear a voice behind you.

“Is this really what we’re dealing with tonight?” It’s a sigh of disappointment, but somewhere in the tone there is almost a sound of amusement. “I wanted to take them out myself, couldn’t you have picked a different patrol group, Captain Choi?” You turn to see two men behind you, clad in the same blue as the murderers, but they look calmer, despite the one talking having a grin plastered onto his face. 

“I did my job,” the one that must be Captain Choi sighs, watching the other slinging the bow he’d used to shoot one of the men around his shoulder before moving to withdraw the sword he’d used to slay the men that had been after you. “Unlike you, I’m not getting any gratification out of this.” 

“That’s a little rude,” his partner laughs.

“You’re not even trying to hide it,” Captain Choi frowns, he carries the air as if he’s dealt with the other’s antics for quite some time. His gaze then flickers from the trio of fallen men to you.

“You know me well enough to know that I’m joking,” the other shakes his head and turns to look at you. “If you had just let them kill the kid you could’ve saved us some trouble, though.” Despite the lightness in his tone, the content of his speech made the same chill of fear creep down your spine. You’d escaped the nobles and the murderers, but now a different foe stands before you.

“Maybe,” Captain Choi notes, “but this isn’t our decision to make.”

Your brow furrows as they speak, by what they are saying it would leave you to believe that these men are a part of some sort of organization. Thinking more on it, you only knew of one group prominent enough to walk the streets of Seorabeol at night in place of any military patrol. Were these truly members of the Hwarang? 

Before you’re able to part your lips to ask, a figure rounds the corner behind the two men and makes his way over to you. He wears the same blue as them, his hair styled the same way with a headband across his forehead and his long locks held in a topknot atop his head. The other two grow silent as he approaches, denoting some sort of superiority as he stands shoulder to shoulder with them. 

His gaze travels behind you, looking at the splayed out remains, and then returns to you, a frown adorning his lips. “It doesn’t seem like luck was on your side tonight.” He speaks sharply, as if his words are whettened by the same stone that had sharpened his blade. The cold blue of the moonlight reflects off the blade in his grasp as he raises it towards your chest, sending another bolt of dread to your stomach. Although it isn't necessarily the steel pointed at your heart that makes you feel this way, it’s the way his gaze bores into you. It is cold and fierce, but there is another emotion stowed away that you aren’t fully comprehending. Mercy, maybe? The man fully seems capable of killing you instantly, but he looks somewhat troubled. “If you run, I will kill you. Do you understand?” 

You nod immediately, knowing full well that he wouldn’t back down on that statement. He stares at you for a moment longer before sighing and sheathing his sword. 

“W- What?” Too surprised to stop yourself, you blurt out the question as the man crosses his arms.

“Are you sure about this Lee?” The snarkier of the two others asks, his eyes narrowing at the one he’d called out to, “The kid saw everything, and didn't even say thanks for saving his sorry ass.”

Lee frowns, “Quiet. If you keep saying that then you know what we’ll have to do.”

With their apprehension to mention what had just occurred, it’s clear that you’d seen something you weren’t supposed to. The more they said the easier it is to figure out what they are trying to hide and no one wants that. 

“Don’t you think it’ll come back to bite us in the ass if we let him go?” With the way the Hwarang speaks it sounds as if he can read your mind.

“And so the right thing to do would be killing him? No,” Lee shakes his head, “We’ll see what to do with the kid once we get back.”

“I agree with the Commander, the longer we stay here the more likely we’re to be seen… Again.” Choi adds, moving to sheath his own sword and look at the creatures they’d slain as though he hadn’t seen them before. “If this is their reaction to blood, I don’t think they’ll have a practical use.”

“Damn…” Lee looks down to the corpses, an emotionless expression on his face before he looks back to his companions. “As for you two, stop with the ‘Lee’ and ‘commander’, we’re trying to keep a low profile.” 

“You can’t be serious, our robes are a big giveaway,” the nameless Hwarang snorts. 

“What should we do with the bodies? There doesn’t seem to be any physical signs…” Choi notes, looking at Lee.

The commander thinks for a moment, “Just take their robes, Chan can deal with the rest.” 

“Understood.”

“Another man killed in the streets of Seorabeol,” the other Hwarang sighs out before bellowing out a bark of laughter, “We’re doing a great job, aren’t we?”

“As long as we don’t talk about it, I don’t think anyone will know we were here,” Lee looks at you and you get the feeling that his words aren’t directed towards his companions. It isn't uncommon for people to be murdered in the capital, with rising tensions across the kingdoms as different factions had been popping up everywhere and leading anywhere from small to large fights. Seeing it happen is a different story. 

“Hmm, we did save you, didn’t we?” The nameless Hwarang muses as he looks at you.

Eyes widening at his statement. Despite his earlier attempts of pursuing after your death, he and Choi had saved you from the murderers. “Thank you,” you bow, hesitantly as you don’t trust them entirely. “I’m sorry for not thanking you earlier, there was just so much going on…” 

Looking back up at the three, they look almost as confused as you feel. You quickly break eye contact and look down to the ground, “It’s a little strange to say that… but he told me I should say thanks so—”

Gaze returning to the men, Lee and Choi are looking at anywhere but you while the third man is shaking with laughter.

“I guess I did tell you to, didn’t I?” He laughs again, doubling over to the point he has to wipe a few tears away from his eyes before straightening up. “You’re welcome, I’m Boo Seungkwan. Nice to meet someone who actually knows how to be polite.”

“Thanks for helping me…”

“The one you should be thanking is Captain Choi Hansol over here, and this bossy guy—” He begins again but is abruptly stopped by Lee.

“The hell do you think you’re doing, Boo?” He frowns as he turns towards Seungkwan. 

“I understand your concerns, commander, but we have to move.” Whatever pervasive happiness that had penetrated the bloodied air dissipated with Hansol’s words. 

Boo reaches out and grabs your wrist, gives you a small smirk and begins to lead you out of the alleyway and down the street. His grip is too rough and tight to be friendly, his fingers feel like stone wrapped around you. There isn't any question about the situation you now find yourself in; if you are to run you are to be killed. Your life is now in their hands and up to their discretion.

“It would be best if you prepared for the worst,” Hansol says as you traverse the streets of Seorabeol, wondering how the sight of their bloodstained robes isn’t catching anyone’s attention. “I doubt this will end well for you.” His words are sharper than the blades of cold that soar through the streets, tearing into your chest.

𝔍𝔞𝔫𝔲𝔞𝔯𝔶 4𝔱𝔥, 661 - 𝔖𝔢𝔬𝔯𝔞𝔟𝔢𝔬𝔩, 𝔎𝔦𝔫𝔤𝔡𝔬𝔪 𝔬𝔣 𝔖𝔦𝔩𝔩𝔞 The harshness of the sunlight beaming in through a nearby window pulls you from a dreamless slumber, the ground underneath you far too hard to allow you a peaceful enough rest for such frivolities. Head reeling at the events of the night prior, it isn’t until you try and rub the sleep from your eyes that you realize where you are exactly. The knot roping your hands together brushes against your wrists, the fibers of the cordage causing the skin to burn. 

Looking around the room, you realize that there isn’t anyone else present. In a way that makes you feel a little more comfortable, but again, waking up in an unfamiliar place is sure to keep you on edge. You writhe on the floor for a moment, realizing that your feet had been bound too, the blankets that had been strewn atop you falling away and pooling on the floor beside you. A dull ache in your back tells you that you’d be feeling the consequence of sleeping on such a surface for the next day or so, the twisting already signaling a crick in your neck as well. For as dull as your own home had seemed to you as a child, you miss it now more than ever. 

“This is a nightmare,” a sigh under your breath as you think to the men who you’d come across the night prior, and whatever situation they’d found you in. 

Finding the scrambling on the ground unhelpful, you lay back down, your bound hands falling atop your stomach as you stare up at the dark ceiling. 

It’s only a few moments later that you hear the gentle slide of the wooden door across from you, noting that someone is making an appearance. You try your best to sit up, looking at the face of the newcomer and realizing quickly that it isn't one of the men with whom you’d been acquainted with last night. 

“Are you awake?” a small and awkward smile as they peek their head into the room, they pause for a moment as they notice the ropes binding you. Their brow furrows as they step fully into the room, “This isn’t normally how we treat guests… If you’ll give me a moment, I’ll untie you.”

A silent nod as they approach, loosening the ropes around your ankles as you can now sit up freely, unencumbered by the restrictive ties. You note that he’d left your hands bound, you can understand why but the chafing still hurts.

“Who are you?” You question as they step back, a small smile quirking on their face as they move to kneel by your side. 

“Ah, my name’s Song Eunseok,” he says, a look overcoming him as if he’d forgotten himself for a moment. 

“Thank you… Eunseok.” Muttering out as he stands, offering out his arm to you to help you rise from the floor. 

“A few of the captains want to talk to you,” there’s something likened to a worry in his eyes, you hardly know the kid, but he reads like an open book. “If you’d just follow me…” 

And you do, walking in silence through the compound for a moment or two before the younger speaks up again. “They’ve been discussing what to do with you since they woke up. I think they’re going to try and hear what you’ve got to say and see if they’ve got to report you or not…”

“Report me?” 

“Mhm,” he nods as his feet slide over the smooth floorboards. “We’re not like the city guard or anything, so we don’t have that much jurisdiction over—” Eunseok pauses, a hand raising to his mouth as if he’s said too much. He lets out a nervous chuckle, “Well, you’ll see.”

Eunseok’s courtesy is nice, better than that of those men you’d seen last night. But it has an air to it that tells you to be cautious, you are the one impeding on their space and it is their judgment to dole out.

 As if he can tell you are on edge, the younger one says, “They might seem scary at first but they’re really not that bad.” 

The Hwarang themselves don’t have a tainted name, but you know that the ones located in the different towns and localities of Silla had varying degrees of severity. And with this being the unit of the capital, you don’t expect them to be anything less than vicious towards any perceived troublemaking. 

“You’re actually probably around the same age as our commander, well, we’re all really around the same age,” his laugh resounds around the space for a moment, his hand trailing up to his ear to toy with a small, dangling earring attached to it. “Captain Kim and Captain Wen tend to sate any tension too so I wouldn’t worry all too much.”

 Eunseok’s reassurances go partially on deaf ears as you approach what seems to be the main building. Through the hanji walls you can hear muffled chatter as the people inside are undeniably trying to decide your fate. With a steady hand, Eunseok slides open the door and motions you inside. 

You don’t need to announce yourself, as the sound of you entering causes several heads to turn in your direction. A quick glance around the room tells you that these are probably the heads of the Hwarang. Their own gazes feel like daggers, picking you apart silently and without a care other than what the hell your presence means to them. 

“I take it you slept well, then?” A voice to your right calling out to you. You turn your head to see Seungkwan, or at least that’s what he’d been referred to as last night, glaring at you with a smirk on his lips. His attire is different from last night, as were the robes of the several others you recognize standing around, more lavish than what their Hwarang uniforms had been yesterday. The red of his robes feels even more threatening to you in lieu of this situation. 

“It wasn’t… great.” A small frown as you respond, noticing his brow contort into an irritated expression. You grit your teeth, maybe it would be better to kiss up to them?

“Is that right?” His shoulders shrug, “When I went to check on you earlier you didn’t move at all, no matter how many times I tried to wake you up.” Seungkwan sighs out, “You looked like you were dead to the world.”

 You don’t say anything, feeling a rise of embarrassment in your stomach at his words.

“Don’t take what he says too seriously,” another face emerging from the mass, belonging to another man you’d met last night. You think it’s the one they’d called Choi Hansol. “Seungkwan didn’t go anywhere near your room.”

 A devilish grin spreads over Seungkwan’s face as he sees how flustered his statement has gotten you, “You didn’t need to ruin the fun that quickly, Hansol.”  

“Captain Choi didn’t do anything wrong though, you though—” a glare at Seungkwan, your fingers rubbing together as you try to find the will to butt heads with him. 

“That’s enough.” A voice cuts through your conversation swiftly, drawing your attention to the figure standing at the head of the room. Their head hangs low, as if they were just listening to the chatter before calling out. “You sound like a bunch of kids.” It is the third man from last night, Commander Lee.

“This is your witness Commander?” A new voice with a deeper tone, calls out from your left. You turn to see three men sitting together, presumably having been conversing with one another prior to your arrival. 

The notoriety of the Hwarang stems from the fact that they only chose youthful men to be a part of their organization, you can see that while glancing around to the other faces in the room. Maybe you’d expected them all to be a little older, but it seems as if the eldest is just in his late twenties or so.

“He’s just a stick,” the voice continues, you see that it looks like the younger of the trio’s talking. His hand rests lazily over his knee as he looks you over, a frown settled onto his lips. 

“You’re calling him a kid, Kwon?” One of the other men sitting snickers, “That’s funny.”

So, that’s at least one of their names. 

“Put them together and they’d look just like scared little kids,” the second speaker sighs out, head resting lazily in his hand. 

“I can call them that because I’m a mature adult, obviously.” The two begin to have a bickering discourse, glaring at one another from their seated positions.

“Mature adult?” The other barks, his hand moving from his cheek in disbelief, “Wen, I knew you weren’t smart but that’s a reach even for you.”

 Their tones aren’t angry, more so a taunting argument between two friends. It is lighthearted enough but if you’d just been passing by and not listened fully you might’ve just seen it as two people arguing. Were these the two people that Eunseok had mentioned, Kim and Wen?

“You’re just a pair of grumpy old men,” Kwon rolls his eyes, “I think you’re both going senile.” 

“You think you can get away with talking to us like that?” the one you presumed to be Wen scoffs, “I’m hardly old enough to be called old… Kim here though…”

 “I thought we were friends, you son of a bitch,” Kim looks to the other, an expression of faux hurt caked onto his brow. “And you both are older than I am.”

“Real adults, my ass,” Kwon shakes his head at the two. The back and forth between the three is certainly interesting to watch, it is almost as if they’d been going at it like this for years with one another. 

Despite their light-hearted banter, it doesn’t downplay the tension you feel encroaching on this space. This is the home of the Hwarang, and you are an outsider, foreign to them in almost every way possible. 

“I’ll apologize on their behalf,” a soft voice says, it comes from one of the men standing next to Lee. “Don’t let them unsettle you too much.” The warmth emanating from his tone is enough to make you relax even in the slightest bit, forgetting for a moment the peril you may be in. 

“Don’t kid yourself,” the Commander speaks up, shooting a glance to the other, “You’re the scariest one out of all of us, Choi Seungcheol.” You’re almost too lost in looking at the one who’d spoken to notice the number of heads nodding in agreement with Lee.

“Really? I get that from the other men but from our own demon commander?” Choi muses, his hand toying with the long strands of hair falling over his shoulder before looking at his compatriot, “I feel a little flattered. I only try to hold the Hwarang to the highest standard I can.” His hand falls away from his hair, settling to rest on the hilt of his sword fastened around his waist in such a relaxed manner you hadn’t realized he’d had it on him in the first place, “Although I suppose it’s easy to get confused when our standards… or maybe our taboos, are at your mercy.” 

“Maybe you’re right, but this isn’t the time to get into that,” Lee sighs out, a small smirk mirroring Choi’s, his gaze once again pinpointing on you after a moment. 

“You’re lucky to have a friend like that, Jihoon,” a new voice comments. The dialogue between Choi and the Hwarang’s Commander hadn’t been exactly what you would call ‘friendly’. It is cold and lacks the warmth that had flowed between the prior conversation with the other three captains. Although from the way the new face had spoken it sounds as if he had perceived the pair as such. 

“I haven’t introduced myself,” he says, turning from the pair and facing you. “Sorry, my name is Kwak Youngmin, the leader of the Hwarang. Or at least, this division,” he chuckles at himself.

“So, you’re the most important man in the Hwarang?” A tilt of your head as you look at him, his presence is far less intimidating than the handful of others that had come before him.

“Well,” another short laugh, “I wouldn’t go that far. I merely represent everyone in the Hwarang. Jihoon’s the commander and Seungcheol’s more or less the colonel.”

“Don’t you think that’s important information to be divulging, Youngmin?” Jihoon cuts the other off, arms crossing over his chest as he continues to glare at you. 

“Ah,” Youngmin’s brow softens, a confusion taking over his demeanor, “Do you think it’s a bad idea?”

“Unless you want them to learn everything about us,” a grunt as Wen pushes himself up off of the floor and strides over, quickly followed by Kwon and Kim, “I think you’d better keep your mouth shut.” 

“Exactly! We don’t owe him anything,” Kwon adds, glancing over to you.

“Those are good points…” Youngmin cedes for a moment, “But it’s rude to ignore your guests, isn’t it?”

A laugh from Kim as he shakes his head, “I guess you’re right.”

Youngmin perks up ever so slightly, he’d looked dejected at Jihoon’s words and it seems as if the affirmation helped his mood. His demeanor is much more cheerful than the others, seeming to radiate a positivity that hadn’t been shed amongst the others.

Another smile flashes on his lips as he looks at you, it's brief but there’s a coolness in his gaze that tells you the newly found lightened mood is due for a change. 

“Now, let’s get back to why we’re here,” he glances at Hansol before speaking again, “Can you tell me what happened last night?”

“Last night we were on patrol when we encountered a band of thugs wandering the streets. They attacked first so we fought.” Hansol’s voice is calm as he recounts the events, calmer than you would ever be in his shoes. “A few of the men were able to subdue them,” His eyes look to you, prodding at your own take on the events that had transpired.

“I didn’t see what happened,” you insist, shaking your head as you lock eyes with the speaker.

Despite that, you can feel Jihoon’s glare boring into you. It is akin to the harshness of a parent severely scolding their child. Hansol’s expression doesn’t change, despite the pleading in your gaze, and in your peripheral vision, Seungkwan continues to smirk at you. 

“Positive you didn’t see anything?” Kwon prompts, causation enough for you to turn your attention back to him and his other two compatriots. 

“I didn’t,” you press, trying to muster as much authority in your voice as you can. 

“Hmm,” his hand moves under his chin as your eyes dart from Wen to Kim before settling back onto Kwon. “If that's the case then I really don’t see what the problem is.” 

“Didn’t Seungkwan say you helped out some of the guys?” Kim mumbles, his arms crossed as if he is deep in thought. 

Your brow furrows before you begin to shake your head once again, this time a little more vehemently, “That isn’t true.” The plastered grin on Seungkwan’s face remains, despite the accusatory glance you throw to him. “I was trying to get away from those noble thugs, or whoever they were and then some men in Hwarang robes showed up, if anything, they helped me out.”

“So, then you saw them apprehend those men?” It is lightly put, the flashes of viscera still playing in your mind occasionally. Kim is testing the waters and you are beginning to sink your own ship.

 “I…” You can’t deny it, something tells you that if they even get a whiff of inaccuracy, you’ll be in much deeper shit than you are in now. 

“If you’re not going to say anything, we can only assume you saw everything, right?” Kim questions. The silence you emit must be answer enough for him as he sighs and continues, “I can tell you’ve got an honest heart, and that’s not a bad thing, really, but…” The eeriness of that sentence puts you on edge, will the next thing that falls from his mouth be the words that would damn you? 

“I promise I won’t tell anyone what I saw!” The words fall from your lips, blithely and almost incoherent as your hands clench together. 

 “Hmm,” Seungcheol’s gentle hum resounds around the room after your outburst. “The attack doesn’t seem like it wasn’t deliberate. Yet, it also seems unlikely that you’re our enemy. Even if you have good intentions, we will still have to interrogate you... Can you handle torture?” 

Images of bodies rolled in straw mats and being beaten with wooden sticks courses through you, of what they could possibly do to you. Seungcheol’s words, despite the warmness of his voice, are cold, calculating. The hairs on the back of your neck stand on end, unable to respond to such a question without an air of incredulity. 

“Staying quiet is easy, but if you were captured, you’d have no loyalty to us regarding what you saw.” Hansol points out nonchalantly.

 “Let’s just kill him,” Seungkwan shrugs, almost as if the thought doesn’t carry the weight of your life, “That’s the only surefire way to not have him talk.”

“Seungkwan, that isn’t our way.” Youngmin interjects, his brow furrowing at the other, before you can protest, “We don’t run around murdering civilians.”

The other laughs, “Don’t look at me, I was only kidding.” It sure hadn’t felt like it. Nor had it sounded like it either.

“You may need to work on your delivery, then.” Hansol shakes his head, as Seungkwan chuckles with that cheshire-like grin. 

“If anything, he can’t be that much older than me,” Eunseok, who until up to this remained silent, speaks out from behind you. You hear his feet tread across the floorboards until he’s standing by your side, “That’d almost be killing a kid, wouldn’t it?”

“I don’t want to kill him but choosing to ignore the unlikelihood of his untrustworthiness is very irrational,” Seungcheol frowns, his fingers toying with the butt-end of his sword. “What’s your take, Commander Lee?”

Everyone’s attention turns to Jihoon, the Commander’s lips curving down into an ever sourer grimace as the gazes’ rest upon him. He sighs before looking up and around at the different faces.  

“Last night we killed the wang-do that broke our code, this kid shouldn’t have been involved in the slightest.” It isn't an answer and it only heightens the anxiety coursing through you.

“Is that all you have to say on the matter?” Seungcheol prods.

“He probably saw something that he doesn’t understand…” Lee mutters as Wen rises to his feet. 

“Even if that’s the case this is pretty serious,” Wen’s foot taps on the floor, the light from outside glinting off his deep green robes. “We have to sweep this under the rug. If the rumor spreads that the Hwarang have turned blood-thirsty it wouldn’t sit well with the people, or the crown for that matter.” It looks as if people are taking Wen’s words to heart, a grimace overcomes Jihoon’s face as the taller continues to speak. 

“Watch it,” Jihoon fires back, “It’s our responsibility to regulate the wang-do that haven’t followed the code. We are going to do something about it.”

“That doesn’t change the fact that he saw something.” Seungkwan looks at you again, but you refuse to acknowledge it.

“He does have a point,” Kim muses, “I’ll do whatever Kwak, Lee and Choi tell me to do.”

“I think we should let him go,” Kwon notes, his hand moving to brush a few strands of hair out of his face. “It’s not like he knows everything.”

“...Everything?” You question aloud and the room once again turns cold at your words. 

“I think it’d be best if you stop talking, Kwon.” Jihoon says solemnly, as the younger mutters out a brief apology. 

“Now it’s going to be a little harder to just simply let you go,” Seungkwan says pointedly, crossing his arms as you look at him briefly. 

“A man should always be ready to face death. You should make your peace with that,” Wen notes, nodding his head as if he were agreeing with his own statement. 

 A man…. The words resound around your head and it isn’t until you look down at your feet and the clothes you were wearing do you remember. Right, you’re not dressed in your typical attire, this was stolen from your father’s chest, his clothes that you had mended as you awaited his arrival. The clothes you had taken to undergo your journey to find him, the journey that had somehow led you here. It hits you that they think you’re a man. With the whirlwind of events that had led you here you’d completely forgotten about your attire and how they may have perceived you. 

“That’s true, there’s nothing wrong with a brave death. When I was younger, I committed honorable suicide,” Kim shrugs his shoulders, a humor riding his tone as he spoke of the grave topic.

“Didn’t really stick though, did it, Mingyu?” Wen snorts, giving the other captain a nudge with his shoulder before they break out into a short burst of laughter. 

“Commander, since we can’t figure out what to do, should I just send him back to his room for the time being?” Hansol asks Jihoon once the laughter has died down. “The more we leave him out here, the more likely he’s going to hear something he’s not meant to, and we’d have to kill him regardless.”

Even if Hansol hadn’t said it for your well being, a flush of relief floods through your muscles. 

“Alright, let’s do that. Besides, there’s something I need to look into.” The commander acquiesces, before looking over to Seungcheol.

“I agree, there’s a few careless voices among us, you never know what could slip.”

“Why are you looking at me like that?” Kwon’s eyes widen as he realizes that the colonel is glaring in his direction. 

“You’ve gotta admit we’re all pretty reckless with our words, especially you, Soonyoung.” Kim huffs, begrudgingly agreeing to Choi’s observation. 

“It was just a mistake! No need to blame me for all of it,” Kwon’s voice rises as he tries to defend himself. He sighs out and glances at you, mumbling a quiet, “I’m sorry” under his breath. 

Still apprehensive about their plans with you, you can’t find it within you to respond to him in any sort of affirmative way. It still seems like he understands the intention behind your curt nod.

“Alright then, Captain Choi, take care of the kid.” The commander says as he begins to turn on his heels, heading towards a side room branching off the main hall. 

“Will do…” Hansol nods and turns to you, “Shall we go?”

After Hansol has walked you to your room in relative silence, you find yourself sitting on the floor, your hands still bound, after what seems like hours since the meeting. 

The Hwarang were esteemed because of their loyalty to the crown and their way of life, you hadn’t realized how vicious it could be. But behind all of that there is a humanity behind the veneer of the aristocratic and diplomatic traits they were meant to have. Despite it not seeming like it as of your first meeting. 

Their presence isn't that of cold-blooded killers or snotty aristocrats, the message garnered through that meeting had been along the lines of ‘We are not killers, but to protect our way of life we must bring death’. It didn’t make you feel great, but it could help you understand them a little more. 

As you sit in the room, watching the sun flit in through nearly closed shades you ponder that the longer you stay here, the less chance you have of returning to your home in one piece. They have no real right to let you go, your loyalty to them is a contract by word, not by blood. And you are sure they would recognize that sooner or later. 

If they still thought you to be a man would they still make you face that fate? Would exposing your true identity be worth mercy on your life? Even then you don’t know if the repercussions of that would be any better, it may backfire and lead to an even worse end for you. 

If possible, you would like to forgo either of those scenarios. Perhaps escaping would be your best bet...

As your feet had been left unbound, it is easy to push yourself off the ground to unsteadily rise on your feet. With your feet free it shouldn’t be nearly as impossible a feat to escape if both your feet and hands were bound. You take a deep breath before walking towards the door, thinking of how they had brought you in last night and where Eunseok had guided you to the meeting and Hansol had taken you from. It is a rudimentary enough map in your head, but you can make it work, you have to make it work.

You approach the sliding door quietly, inching your foot towards it as to open it. Before you’re able to though, it slides open and a figure almost runs face-first into you. 

“Ah-!” Youngmin stops himself so he doesn’t run into you, you take a cautionary step backwards to distance yourself from him. 

A figure peers out from behind Youngmin, Seungcheol’s eyes wide as he realizes what is going on. “Oh, you weren’t trying to escape, were you?”

“I was just…” you search for a response, but your situation is already damning enough. 

“Trying to escape isn’t really going to make your situation any less difficult,” he frowns, stepping out from behind Youngmin to stand in line with the leader. While his voice is soft, his eyes hold that same calculating glare that had scrutinized you earlier in the day. 

You think for a moment before a realization dawns on you. They hadn’t tied you up because they’ve been watching you the entire time. Maybe you should’ve figured that out sooner, but your brain is too muddled with flight or flight instinct. 

“I’ll only repeat this one more time,” a voice coming from the hall outside as two pairs of footsteps approach the room, “if you try to run, I’ll kill you.” Jihoon’s voice is stern as he rounds the corner with Seungkwan. 

“Sorry, that means we’re forced to kill you,” Seungkwan sighs, his hand hovering over the hilt of his sword, “We can’t let you go if you can’t keep a promise.” He doesn’t look sorry with the way a fresh smile danced along his lips as he spoke. 

Teeth gritting together you plant your feet firmly on the ground and look at the men in front of you. They aren’t presenting any favorable options to you, and if they were going to kill you anyway, the best thing you could do is try and run for it. 

By some miraculous means you’re able to push your feet from the floor, sliding around Youngmin and beginning to race down the corridor of the building. It’s not long until you feel a hand grab the back of your robes, pulling you back towards the room you’d been kept in.

“Did you really think you could escape?” Jihoon asks, sounding somewhat bewildered by the actions you’d taken. 

“Let me go!” You writhe in his grasp, trying to free yourself from his grip, but it is holding firm to you with no sign of weakness. 

“If I do that, you’ll just run off again,” he sounds annoyed now as he leads you back into the room with Seungkwan, Seungcheol, and Youngmin. 

 “I don’t want to die, though!” You say, still struggling under his hold. “There’s something I have to do!”

 “And what’s that? What’s important enough for a girl to dress up as a boy and run around Seorabeol?”

You freeze at his words, eyes widening as his grip on you goes slack. It’s given you the opportunity to run for it again, but you find yourself too stunned to move. Did he know this whole time? You turn to look at him, your mouth parting as if to say something but you can’t think of what to utter.  

“Did you just call me a girl?” You can tell by the steely glare he gives you that your feeble attempt at a lie won’t work on him. 

A small ‘huh’ and you look over your shoulder to see Seungcheol looking at you, “So you really are a girl.”

“Did you really think putting on a pair of pants and a man’s robes would fool us?” Seungkwan questions as he crosses his arms, a teasing tinge to his voice.return

“You all knew from the start?” Eyes widening, you thought your disguise had been rather good. But perhaps not as much as you had thought. 

“Kwak Youngmin you idiot,” the leader of the Hwarang mutters just loudly enough for you to hear, “How did you not realize this sooner?”

Youngmin’s reaction puts you more at ease, seeing that not everyone had seen right through your facade.

“You almost got killed for whatever you’re here for, maybe it’s time you enlighten us,” Jihoon doesn’t ask, rather demands the information out of you. 

You nod at him and the trio silently takes you back to the hall where you’d been questioned only hours prior. The rest of the men filter in from whatever they’d been doing at the compound, none of them sparing you more than a second’s glance once they walk into the large room. 

“I thought your features were a little more effeminate than most men but to think you were a lady this whole time…” Youngmin leads, his head nodding as if he’d come to the conclusion hours earlier and hadn’t only just learned your secret moments prior. 

“Once you realize she’s a girl she really doesn’t look like a guy at all, right?” Kwon muses as he looks into your eyes. 

Uncomfortable with this, you break away, looking to Eunseok who stands next to him. 

“So, we really left her tied up all night to sleep on the floor?” The younger mumbles, looking down to his feet before looking up to you and giving a very heartfelt “Sorry,” before returning his gaze to the floor. 

“Well she claims to be a girl, but it’s not like we have any real proof, right?” Wen muses as he looks at Mingyu.

“You want proof?” You fire back, eyebrows raising at the implied suggestion. 

“Would you feel better if we stripped her down?” Kim scoffs, eyes rolling at the other.

“You will absolutely not!” Youngmin interrupts, seemingly not understanding the sarcasm of Kim’s statement. “To suggest that goes against everything we stand for.”  

“It was a joke,” Kim shoots back, “But if we needed absolute proof…”

“If you are a girl though,” Wen muses, “Then I think it would feel kind of wrong just to kill you.”

“Why are all of you acting so naive? If we have to kill her, we have to kill her.” Jihoon frowns while looking over his men. 

“Exactly,” Seungcheol nods, a small frown overcoming him, “Although it’s not her gender that’s the issue. Killing in general is wrong.” Even with those words, the way his hand rests on the hilt of his sword makes an uneasy feeling lurch in your stomach, “We were organized by the crown to protect Silla and her people, killing those people in cold-blood wouldn’t put us in a favorable light.” 

“But if this girl, or boy, is a threat to the crown, that’s a whole other matter in itself.” Seungkwan notes, the sly grin on his face present once more. At this point you’re concluding this is what he normally looks like.

“I apologize,” Jihoon looks at you, “I took it upon myself to look through your things. It seems like you’ve come all the way from Toehwa-hyeon by yourself. You didn’t have much; some change, clothing, a few scraps of letters and a blade.” He pauses for a moment to collect his thoughts, “One of the fragments of letters was signed by Namemekawa Yasuo, I assume you saw him?” Another pause as he looks into your eyes as if he’s searching for something, “What exactly are you here for?”

When the doctor’s name is spoken, chatter begins among the men, did they know Namekawa? And it isn’t until Jihoon asks what your true purpose here, followed by your full name, does the entire room go silent.

“Commander… that name…” Wen’s eyes are wide as he addresses Jihoon. 

“It’s not just some bizarre coincidence, is it?” Kim adds on, his face looking almost as equally as confused as Wen’s.

“Now, let’s hold on for a moment,” Youngmin tries to calm the room’s mounting tension. He looks to you, a weary expression on his brow as he continues, “We need to determine if you are a threat. Why did you come to Seorabeol?” 

At Youngmin’s behest you move forward to speak, with a quiet voice you announce your name, and the chatter begins quietly once more for a moment. Once it settles down you speak again, “My father is a doctor in Toehwa-hyeon. I traveled from my home there in search of him as I haven’t heard from him in several months. The last time we spoke he said he was traveling here, the capital, for work.” 

“You’re from Toehwa-hyeon as well?” A small smile dances along Youngmin’s lips, “And you came all of this way to find your father? Who is he?”

“I am the daughter of Physician Heo Jinsang.” You answer shortly, not fully expecting their reactions. 

They don’t seem angry, rather sate in their realization of something.

“So, it’s all piecing together,” Jihoon sighs out.

“The handwriting does match Jinsang’s but… To think you were his daughter,” Seungcheol’s gaze furrows at you as he bites the inside of his cheek.

“Do you know my father?” You ask as you turn to look from Seungcheol to Jihoon.

“You’ve been withholding information from us?” Jihoon’s voice, now angered, calls out to you. It’s accusatory in nature and you can’t begin to fathom as to why.

“I… What?” A step backwards at the intensity of his words, your heart begins to pound in your chest as the next words flow from his lips like a torrent from an incensed river. 

 “There’s no point in lying now!” His gaze hardens, voice unrelenting in its authority, “What the hell are you doing in Seorabeol?!” 

 “I just came to look for my father.” You protest, your muscles tense as the commander takes a step towards you.

“No, you came into this city fully aware of what your father is doing, didn’t you?” Jihoon’s presence itself is harsh, unsettling as his heightening anger bores directly from his voice and to your ears, trying to dig up secrets that were unknown even to you.

“I was told that he was traveling here for medical work, I haven’t seen him in months!” Voice almost cracking under the stressful strain of trying to prove your innocence to them, your heart grows heavy at the thought of committing a crime just from being someone’s daughter. 

“Jihoon, it may be better to leave her be. She may not know anything…” Seungcheol interjects, stepping forward to place a hand on Jihoon’s forearm. 

A reprieve from the interrogation allows you to collect your breath and pose a question of your own, “So what do you know about my father? Do you know where he is?”

“The Hwarang are currently trying to find the location of Physician Heo Jinsang.” Hansol responds with a flat tone, as if he’s not trying to interject any emotion or his own opinion into the matter.

“You’re after my father?” A furrowed brow as you look at him. What exactly had your father done?

“It’s not like that… We’re not after him, per se.” Seungkwan interjects by shaking his head.

“I see…” A small exhale of air that you hadn’t realized you were holding escapes you, a slight weight lifted from your shoulders. 

 “He’s a supporter of the crown but he disappeared a little while ago.” Seungkwan explains. 

 “There’s a chance a few Baekje loyalists have identified him as a threat,” Hansol adds after Seungkwan has finished speaking. 

 “Really?” You frown, beginning to think the worst before Hansol begins to speak again.

 “Of course, there’s a chance that he’s still alive, there are a few Tang-trained physicians in Silla at the moment.” He notes, shifting his weight from foot to foot.

“Youngmin, what do you think we should do? Would it be in our interest to help her because we’re both looking for her father?” Seungcheol questions as you feel your heart about to burst from the anxiety of this situation. 

 “What do you mean by ‘help her’?” Youngmin asks, one of his hands resting on his hip as he looks to the colonel. 

 “I think it would be in our best interest to cooperate with her until we find Heo,” Seungcheol’s lips purse, it looks like he’s already thinking of ways to find your father but you can’t be too sure. “With her help I’m sure our chances of finding him will increase drastically. It may prove fruitless to look for him if he’s in disguise. However, you are his daughter, you should be able to recognize him no matter how he’s disguised himself, right?” Seungcheol looks to you inquisitively, his head tilted to the side and his eyes wide in question. 

 You nod, “Of course.” 

“What do you say Jihoon?” Youngmin turns to look at the commander, “Seungcheol is making some sense of this mess.”

“If she really doesn’t know anything…” Jihoon hums, looking at you warily. 

“I really don’t, all I know is that he was headed here for work but I really don’t know anything else—” You huff, “And about last night, I didn’t see anything, I promise!” 

Jihoon huffs out a sigh as his eyes narrow, “Well, if she really is his daughter, we can’t really kill her, can we?” He watches your reaction for a moment more before continuing, “If you promise to not talk about the events of last night, we’ll let you stay here until we find your father. Fair?”

“I can promise that the Hwarang will do whatever we can to find your father,” Youngmin adds with something of a reassuring smile. 

“Thank you,” you say and bow as deeply as you can, thankful for their gratitude and, most of all, them deciding that your life hadn’t needed to be halted. You’d found your first lead in finding your father, and it seems they are actively looking for him as well. 

“You must be glad we’re not killing you,” Seungkwan quips, “not yet anyway.” That same snide grin encapsulating his lips, as you frown at him. In no way is your position desirable, but you were alive and, on your way, to finding your father.

“More than glad,” you snip back at him. 

“I’m happy we didn’t have to kill you,” Eunseok sighs out, “or turn you into the Crown. My brother’s a guard there and he says it’s awful.”

“Oh, really?” You ponder on that for a moment, thinking of what may have happened if the official patrol had found you instead of the Hwarang. 

“Hm, Eunseok? With her being a lady, I’m not sure the compound is equipped for all her needs. It’s not as if we have Wonhwa anymore…” Youngmin frowns as if he’s just realized an all male domicile may not be the best suited for you.

“That’s a good point…” Eunseok mutters.

“If you need anything you only have to ask,” Hansol nods, “We will do what we can to accommodate you.”

“Thank you, Hansol.” You nod and turn to look at who’s just begun to speak.

“I guess if you are a girl, we’ll have to be nicer to you, huh?” Wen says, a nervous laugh escaping him.

“Hah,” Kwonsnorts at him, “didn’t take long for you to change your attitude, huh, Jun?” 

“It’ll be a nice change of pace though, brighten things up a bit from all of your guys’ shit,” Kim scoffs at the two of them.

Your brow furrows, not fully believing that sentiment as the trio begin bickering with another once more. 

“Everything may not be up to standards here for a lady,” Seungcheol sighs, almost sounding embarrassed at the state of the place, “You’re not a soldier so we can’t fully expect to treat you as such.”

“Then make her an assistant or something.” Jihoon suggests, “Do you need a page, Youngmin? Or you, Seungcheol?”

“It’s your idea, Lee,” Seungkwan pipes up once more, a teasing tinge to his voice, “you can’t just drop her onto someone else.” 

“That’s perfect, we can entrust Jihoon with her,” Youngmin smiles, playing along with Seungkwan’s antics.

“That settles it, I think,” Seungcheol nods, trying to suppress a laugh as he looks at the increasingly flustered commander. 

“You— You can’t just decide like that!” Jihoon barks angrily as those around him laugh. Their back and forth, while humorous to them, caused the relief you felt prior to chip away little by little with each of their jabs. 

It is eventually decided that you are to be Lee Jihoon’s page, if only for the time being, until your father is found. Rather than immediately give you a task to accomplish, the commander sends you back to your room, assuming that you probably hadn’t had a restful night and that your pagely duties would start the next morning. 

“I brought some clothes for you to change into,” a voice calls out from behind your closed door, it sounds like Eunseok. “The ones you’re wearing were a little bloodstained and I figured you might want to change,” he says as you allow him entry. 

“Thank you, Eunseok,” you nod as he sets down the pile of cloth on a nearby tabletop. “Do you think I’ll be here for very long?” 

“Hmm,” he thinks for a moment, “I’m not sure. I know we’ve been looking for your father for a while now, but with you joining us I’m sure it’ll help us out immensely.”

“I see…” you sigh as he begins to make his leave. “Thanks again, Eunseok.” 

“It’s no problem,” he smiles, “I’ll see if I can get some food brought to your room if you don’t want to join us for dinner yet.”

“Alright,” you nod and Eunseok exits your room, closing the door behind him as you’re left alone once more. As you rise to your feet and move your now unbound hands to reach out for the clothes the younger had brought, you can’t help but notice the dirt and dried gore adorning your hands. Had all this happened within a day of arriving in the capital? It feels surreal, almost like a dream that you haven't woken up from yet.

But as the hours passed, it is more and more obvious that this is now your home for the time being. And all the men, and their strange characters, are your company. 

You sigh as you begin to undress yourself, wondering when and how the mystery of your father’s disappearance will be solved.

curious to see what happens next? head on over to the route guide to see all available routes.

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spoiler in tags

Camp Seventeen: Chapter 1

Pairing - Afab!reader x ot13 (OC x 1 member? 1.5 members? 2 members? Idk man, please read and let me know)

Word count - 13K

Genre - Greek Demigod AU! We’ve got crack, smut (tags for the chapter are under the cut), fluff , angst, hurt, comfort, all of it in this series, buckle up!

Chapter summary - It's been a week since you stepped foot in Camp Seventeen - as you navigated the days trying to wrap your head around the 13 boys, one's touch and another's voice start to become a bit too bothersome....

A/n - And the series has finally kickstarted! Please read the prologue before this! I won't be revealing which member/s is in each chapter, I want you guys to find out as you read so I hope you have fun :) Big thanks to @okiedokrie and @c-oupsie for helping beta read this, y'all are the sweetest <3

I do have a taglist so comment/DM/send an ask to be added! And if you enjoyed reading, please don't forget to leave feedback in the comments or tags - we've got lots of chapters to go and hearing thoughts really helps <3

Smut warnings - mutual masturbation, fingering, use of a very questionable dildo, is this considered cheating? Idk it's all blur here, jerking off, cum feeding, cum eating and I hope that's all?

“Fucking hell.” 

You mumbled, waking up the same way you had been for the last one week - startled and nearly jumping off your bed. 

While most people began their days to the ringing of alarm clocks (or roosters if they preferred the countryside), you regularly woke up to the sound of Seungcheol’s eagle screeching in your ear. 

Turning your head, you glanced at Zephyr perched on the window before it gave you a short nod of acknowledgement and flew off into the darkness. Yes darkness, because unlike most people, your day also began at 4 fucking am in the morning. 

Groaning and stretching, you sat up, holding back the large yawn that was threatening to pull you back to sleep. If Zephyr was here to wake you up, that meant you were late yet again and you hated that - you had done too many walks of shame to the training field and were in no mood to be conspicuously stared at by 13 boys as you stumbled over, carrying all your gear. 

Knowing you didn’t have enough time to drop by the washroom, you popped a mint and sprayed some deodorant before quickly grabbing your things and running out into the darkness. 

The sun was just starting to peek from between the mountains as the House Of Zeus became smaller and smaller behind you. Although you had a long list of concerns living with Seungcheol, an unbeatable advantage was how close his residence was to the training grounds. Still, you could somehow never manage to be punctual. By the time you reached, you were 15 minutes late and Seokmin had already begun the morning drills. 

“Two laps around the field newbie.” He muttered as you walked past him, habituated to receiving the same punishment everyday. 

While you begrudgingly jogged around the perimeter of the grounds, your mind wandered to everything and nothing that happened over the past few days. 

Life at camp so far had been…. strange. 

You would be lying if you said you were already accustomed to life here. You most certainly were not. And forget a week, not even a year could prepare you for what living in the wild was like. 

To begin with, there was no electricity here. That’s right, no lights, no air conditioning, no Internet, nothing. 

Member’s began their days at sunrise and ended it as sunset - after all nothing much could be done in the dim illuminance of the fire torches scattered all around the base. So of course for you, who functioned best from 1 to 3am, this archaic way of life was highly inconvenient. 

The only place that had even a trace of something technologically advanced was the Great Hall - some of the more brainy boys had managed to set up a small circuit for kitchen appliances, laundry machines, a small charging station and that was about it. Rumor was that Wonwoo's residence had its own circuit too, but no one could really confirm that intel - it was as though none of them had ever ventured into the House of Hades. 

And as though the lack of scientific inventions was not enough, showers…..were communal. Apparently it made more sense that water lines were directed to one common bath house rather than to each individual house. For them it was definitely more convenient to have the baths, jacuzzi and sauna all in one place, but for you that meant waiting everyday after training for the whole lot of them to be done washing up before you could do the same, with some privacy. 

Oh and speaking of privacy, in the last week you spent here, you had come to realize that in this all-boys-greek-mythology world, it was privacy that was the real myth. Obviously after years of living together the boys were close but sometimes, they were perhaps a tad bit too close - like the time you had walked in on Mingyu and Seokmin boxing in just their underwear or when Soonyoung and Seungkwan sat right next to you, loudly comparing their dick sizes. You usually drew the line at phallic discussions.

The one place on camp that perhaps gave you some alone time and space away from the mess that the boys were, was the library. Considering you had shifted the last year of your University to an online study, you had a shit ton of assignments to complete and that was the only place you were able to get anything done at all. It was like the boys didn’t even know the study building existed - no one cared enough to go there so yeah, maybe occasionally, you also allowed yourself to let down your hair, sing in your horribly off pitch voice and dance to beats from your walkman. Outside those four walls it was impossible for you to feel even a little peace and quiet. 

Surprisingly, not even the temple, which one would think would be a place of sanctity, was spared from the deviant actions of the boys. The altar was less a place of worship and more a place for bargains and exchange deals - it was the only way to connect to the gods, aka, the parents in Olympus. 

You had come to learn that just like the human world, not all God parents loved their kids the same - some members were regularly showered with gifts and goods, others would not receive so much as a response. You found yourself falling in the second half. Your father never cared for you in the human world and apparently, neither did your mother. 

Brushing off the thoughts of the woman you had thought was dead for the last 25 years, you wrapped up your punishment and joined the boys for morning exercises, ready to start yet another tiring day. 

“All done!” 

Joshua gave you a sweet smile as he stepped out of the bath house, rubbing the towel into his wet hair. Thanking him softly, you walked into the showers, stripped out of your clothes and turned on the hot water. The mud that Minghao had you rolling in today as part of combat training washed off as the heat worked to soothe your aching muscles. Lathering shampoo onto your scalp, you finally felt yourself relaxing, letting your favorite citrus smell take over your senses. Outside the bath house, you could hear Seungcheol raising his voice, instructing all the members to head for breakfast, loud footsteps following his words. 

Choi Seungcheol….. Living with him so far had been frustrating. 

When you first stepped into his residence, you told him that you’ve always lived alone so it might take you a while to adjust to living with someone and Seungcheol seemed to inwardly decide that giving you space was his life's purpose. After that, whenever you appeared before him, he politely greeted you and walked away. Whenever you stood as much as two feet near him he took a step back, like he didn't want to intrude on your personal space. Whenever you sat in his vicinity, he excused himself stating he'll give you some ‘me-time’. 

You wish he knew how much you were in fact craving for the exact opposite - You wanted Choi Seungcheol. God you so badly wanted him. 

It wasn't like you could just make a move on him because 

1.Hell no you didn't want him or anyone in this camp to realise just how (as Jihoon called it) thirsty you were and 

2. Seungcheol wasn’t just anybody, he was the leader. Members bowed to him when he walked by, even the companions, specially Patricia who listened to no one, obeyed him - anything and everything on this camp premises held him at the highest regard. You couldn't just walk up to such a man and tell him, “hey, you're hella hot and I'm hella attracted to you, I wish you would ravage me.”???? 

All you could hope was that Seungcheol somehow approached you on his own but that seemed questionable given the clear line he had drawn between the two of you. 

The one person you wished would actually draw a line was the first one to always cross it - Yoon Jeonghan. You knew he and Seungcheol were the same age and that they were close but you didn't understand just how close they had to be for Athena's son to barge into the leaders residence whenever he wanted? Even at times you were changing your clothes or lying casually on the bed in your night dresses that barely covered anything. 

The most infuriating part was Jeonghan did not ever apologize - he'd just laugh and walk away and you wanted to do nothing more than throw a shoe at him. For some reason he enjoyed getting on your nerves, he enjoyed making you angry and it wasn’t just you - in the last one week, it was evident that Jeonghan was a pain in everyone's ass but somehow they all adored him? You didn't get why they all seemed to love a man who always liked to pull their leg, never leaving any chance to fool them with his wit - you assumed they just preferred to be on his good side so all his harmless fun remained harmless. 

Even Joshua, who was one of the sweetest people you knew, seemed to have a soft spot for Jeonghan. 

When you asked him why he said before Jeonghan joined camp, Seungcheol was very uptight and ran the camp like a military barrack - it was the former’s pranks and carefree attitude that allowed members to be at ease. Though he was talking about Jeonghan, you knew what Joshua’s words truly reflected were his own good nature. He just seemed like the kind of guy who could do no wrong - like a pure, sweet soul. The days after you first arrived at camp it was Joshua who showed you around, guided you with everything and tried to make you feel at home. No one else really tried to get to know you as a person - they were all more interested about how and why you landed in their camp. 

It also helped that Joshua was extremely pleasant on the eyes - at times when you didn’t want to feel overburdened by thoughts, you loved to sit next to him and watch him work on his little craft for the day or write that new novel of his. Yes he was good looking and yes when he smiled, you felt dazzled, but it was his sweet disposition that made you choose his company over the other members.

On the days he would go off to the city for some work, the next best place you found yourself was on Jun’s farm. Not that he was particularly nice to you or anything, Jun was…. quiet. He seemed to always do his thing, not bothering anyone, only speaking when required. When the evenings rolled around, you liked to take Natalie on a walk to visit the man she had a big fat crush on. Honestly though, who wouldn’t have a crush on someone like Jun - though he was the one working in the fields, it was you who was sweating, just watching him. 

Although you did want to talk to him, try to get to know him a little bit, you chose not to - as someone who enjoyed the peace and quiet, you decided to let at least some member offer you that because guys like Soonyoung sure as hell could not. 

Soonyoung was…….. A teenager stuck in a man’s body. Oh yeah he was hot as hell - just the nice build with muscles popping in all the right places. He knew how to dress better than most people on camp too - if you had seen him somewhere else, you would have thought he was one of those cool kids you always saw on campus. 

But that image of him was destroyed the moment he sat on a Leopard and insisted it was a tiger. Over the last week, that was the predominant discussion between the two of you. That and his incessant flirting. Or rather, attempt to flirt. All he came across was cheesy, kinda humorous and loud. Extremely loud. 

Wonwoo on the other hand was as silent as the night. 

Most of the time you didn’t even know if and when he was around, it was like he was non-existent. The members too didn’t seem to bother much with what he did - you noticed he didn’t wash up with the others, often hitting the showers after you were done. He never came for any meals on time, he always stayed back, even after all the members dispersed for the day - he just seemed to function however he liked and no one questioned him. He never questioned you either - Not once did Wonwoo ever attempt to make conversation with you or even meet your eye. It was like he couldn’t care less and that wasn't very pleasant for you. 

Someone who seemed to care a lot though, was Jihoon. Oh Jihoo was quiet too, but somehow he had his eyes on everything. Everything you did, everything you saw, even everything you felt seemed to find its way into Jihoon’s radar - he just knew. It terrified you that he was able to see right through you but the good thing about Jihoon was that he generally kept his mouth shut and wasn’t too keen on discussing his observations. Regardless, his presence made you feel extremely conscious and a part of you often tried to not be alone with him, lest he could read your mind or something. 

As the last of the soap rinsed off you, you turned off the water and grabbed your towel, patting yourself down. Your body was sore and aching all over - Minghao said that was because you were not used to such combat routines and in a few months time you would get used to it but you weren’t really sure if you had it in you to tolerate all this for that long. 

You also still had no idea what exactly these skills were needed for but from the conversations you overheard, it sounded like some sort of competition? That was both unlikely and terrifying cause who really competed with swords and spears anymore but if it was true, then what the actual hell??? Minghao said he didn’t want to scare you with the details just yet and would explain everything when the time came. For now, you were to focus on building your core strength and basic self defense, in case the camp is ever attacked…. Yes, cause that is less scary, way to make one feel better. 

But that was the thing about Minghao - he did not have the habit of sugar coating things. He was honest with his feedback no matter how rude it sounded and though sometimes it did make you feel like shit, he also made sure to push you to do better. You knew if there was anyone you could approach for a real, unbiased opinion, it was him. 

The same could not be said for Mingyu though - everything that came out of his mouth was saccharine sweet to the point it actually annoyed you. There was no doubt he was a nice guy - he was handsome, goofy, really good with his hands, really really good with his brain but the same didn’t extend to his mouth. His style of getting your attention was to ceaselessly seek validation and unfortunately for him, you weren’t really someone who was great with words of affirmation. When he was not trying so hard to please though, Mingyu was truly the biggest sweetheart with the fattest, most caring heart you had ever come across - the kind one wanted to wrap in bubble wrap and tuck away safely. 

Seokmin too fell in the same category - the type who was so precious, it was hard to believe people like him even existed. The only reason you were able to survive these few weeks of training despite coming late was because Seokmin had your back every time Seungcheol wasn’t watching - allowing you to take breathers, overlooking the fact that you were doing less sets than you were supposed to, things of that sort. He was always sweet and calm, giving you soft smiles and sweet eye crinkles. 

With his members though, Seokmin was a whole different person - he was unnaturally loud, extremely energetic and all over the place. The problem was, you didn’t know which of the two was the real him. You weren’t really sure why but something told you Seokmin wasn’t the man he seemed like and a strange curiosity coursed through you every time you interacted with him. 

Seungkwan on the other hand was the exact opposite, he was exactly what he seemed like - always annoyed, unabashedly honest and unnecessarily snarky. In a way, you understood him - Seungkwan had the habit of taking on many things at once and keeping him unbelievably busy. In university, you too were like this - you took extra modules, signed up for multiple clubs, worked an internship alongside a couple of part time jobs and more. You liked to be occupied, to not allow yourself the room to think about what your life could have been otherwise. Maybe that’s why you saw yourself in Mr. Busy Boo - always roaming around with that bluetooth in his ear, attending some meeting or the other, frequently heading to the city to get work done - ‘rest’ was just not a word in his dictionary.

But even amidst all this business and even though his automated response was to snap back at people, he still managed to bond really well with the members despite having joined the camp only a few months before you had. It was like they all needed him to be their constant reality check. 

The one who you thought required his presence more than anyone was Hansol. A man like him whose entire personality was avoidant needed someone like Seungkwan who would drag him into everything forcibly. Hansol wasn’t like Wonwoo, who was unbothered, couldn’t care less and pretended like you didn’t exist. Hansol was well aware of your presence and chose to actively avoid you every time - if you remembered right, there were even instances when he had practically run away from you. Something was just weird about that guy. 

Perhaps the most normal of them all was Chan - actually he was just as loud and consistently blabbering much like some of the others but something about him made you feel very fond of him. Sure he was the same age as you but he felt like a child, always babied by his members, always grinning like a cheshire cat. And consequently, you too naturally babied him and Chan too enjoyed it - the two of you were perfectly content with your dynamic. 

If only you got that same feeling with everyone else……

As you grabbed your things and stepped out of the bath house fully dressed, Wonwoo was standing outside with a towel slung on his shoulder, scrolling through his phone. Without so much as looking at you, he walked past you, into the shower room, loudly shutting the door behind him. 

“Can you ever be on time?” Jeonghan sighed, handing you a plate of pancakes as you looked around realizing everyone was nearly done with breakfast. “It’s not my job to wait your table every morning.” 

“Until you lot arrange for me to have my own shower,”  You grabbed an apple, taking a bite into it as you sat at the extra long dining table. “I’m afraid this is exactly how late I will be everyday.” 

“You know what they say sweetie,” Soonyoung whisked the apple from your hand, taking a bite of his own. “If you can’t beat the crowd, join the crowd.”

You looked at him exasperatedly, knowing that he was just talking out of his ass. Maybe if it was someone else you'd be offended but seeing his childlike face and full cheeks, you were only mildly amused. 

“I'm more of the ‘don't join the crowd, let it follow you’ kinds.”

“Oh I'd follow you anywhere Y/n.” He sighed dreamily as you laughed, taking a bite out of your pancakes that were still too hot. 

“How about you start following your own girlfriend instead Kwon?” Minghao walked around the kitchen island shooting Soonyoung an unimpressed look. “Rumour is that she was seen outside the Dreamboys Disco and we all know exactly what one goes there for.”

“She's not my girlfriend anymore.” Soonyoung muttered. “We broke up.”

“Weren't you just planning an anniversary trip two days ago?” Seokmin looked at him quizzically. 

“Yeah then we argued over a location and she said it was better we broke up for a while.” 

“This is what, your third breakup this month?”

“Fifth.” He whispered sadly in a way that made you want to pat his back. “Sixth actually, if you count the one that lasted for 3 hours.” 

“I'll never understand these on again off again kind of relationships.” Seungkwan clicked his tongue, hurriedly grabbing a banana, balancing all the files in his hand. “The only thing it screams to me is disrespect.” 

“Okay Mr. Seung-I-am-the-son-of-Hera-and-marriage-is-the-way-of-life-Kwan” Soonyoung rolled his eyes. “Not every traditional relationship is healthy, and not everything unconventional is toxic.”

“Yes, except yours is both unconventional and toxic.” Seungkwan scoffed, raising his hand before Soonyoung retaliated. “I can’t care enough right now, tiger boy, I’m already late. We can reschedule your relationship counseling session sometime later.” 

“How about never?” Soonyoung grumbled as Seungkwan rushed off, attending a call on his bluetooth. “Who’s idea was it for him to join the camp again?” 

“Mine.” Seungcheol slid onto the seat across you, raising an eyebrow. “Is there a problem?” 

“Nope.” Soonyoung shook his head fast. “Absolutely not.”

Smirking just a little, Seungcheol turned to you, sliding a couple pieces of chicken breast off his plate onto yours. “You need to eat more Y/n, that little won’t last you through the day.” 

“Same goes for you..” Jeonghan mumbled, placing a bottle of protein shake near Seungcheol who gave him a grateful smile. From the corner of your eye, you saw Jun increase the portion of chicken to buy on the huge shopping list scribbled on the white board.

If there was anything you absolutely loved about this camp, it was the brotherhood. No matter what each member was like individually, as a team, they loved and cared about each other immensely. You weren’t really sure if and when they could extend the same for you but having lived alone nearly all your life, a part of you craved to be one of them, to be cared for like that. 

“I won’t be able to make it for the meeting tonight.” Wonwoo, as usual, strolled in much later than you and no one, as usual, had any complaints with that. In fact rather uncharacteristically nicely, Jeonghan handed him breakfast, shooting him a worried look.

“Why, what’s wrong?” 

“I need to drop by the headquarters today.” He sighed, sitting a couple of seats away from you. “There’s an important official coming and apparently my presence is needed.” 

“Will you be back by nightfall?” Seungcheol asked, looking concerned. You knew why he was worried - if Wonwoo wasn’t there on camp grounds at night that meant all the members had to take their places on the perimeter to guard overnight. Sleep was not an option that night. 

“Yeah,” Wonwoo replied, not looking up. “I will just have to miss out on the meeting for the lawsuit.” 

Right that meeting. The one you, Jeonghan and Wonwoo, had been trying to have for days now to sort out the biggest mess of your life. 

“Shouldn’t be a problem, Nonu.” Mingyu patted his shoulder, shooting you a wink. “Y/n has other plans with me today anyways.” 

You frowned confused as Mingyu clarified. “You were going to finalise your house plan so I could start construction, remember?” 

Oh yeah, you had that too. 

“Awesome, then I can go to the city today.” Jeonghan clapped cheerily, taking his apron off. 

“You don’t work today though…..” Jun muttered, looking at the shortage in the lunch boxes he had packed. 

“Don’t worry about food, I got some friends to meet over lunch.” The older man shot him a two-fingered salute before jogging out of the dining hall, earning Seungcheol’s tired sigh. 

“I can never keep up with him-” 

“Cab leaves in five!” Chan shouted, poking his head through the window. 

The members around immediately stuffed the last of their breakfast, grabbing their things hurriedly, rushing out to get the front seat in Chan’s car. Afterall, the ones behind had to squeeze to fit themselves in and the one hour bumpy ride to the city was not fun. From their collective groans though you could tell Jeonghan had called shotgun - the asshole was lucky as usual. 

Seungcheol downed the last of his breakfast with a fond laugh before turning to you. 

“Have a nice day Y/n, I’ll see you later.” 

You tried not to smile back at him too widely as your eyes followed him leaving the premises. When you turned back to your meal, you could feel a set of eyes keenly looking at you. Looking up, you saw Jihoon staring at you with a small smirk, his expression all knowing. Gulping, you excused yourself from there. 

You stared at the blueprint before you, humming skeptically. 

“Are you still not happy with the design?” Mingyu sighed, crossing his arms. 

“I don’t know.” You drawled. “Something about it feels….off.” 

“Something about your own design that you made for your own house feels off?” 

“Gyu.” Joshua chastised, standing up from the couch and walking over to you. “Artists second guess their work all the time, have some patience.” 

“I am patient.” The bigger man pointed. “But she’s unbelievably indecisive.” 

“I know, I’m sorry.” You looked up at Mingyu guiltily. “It’s just, I’m wondering if having a bathroom in my residence is a good idea or if I should just have another small one built by the bath house? I mean think about it - my residence is so far from the training grounds and the dining hall, if I had to walk all this distance everyday, I’m only going to be more late-” 

“I get it.” Mingyu patted your back. “I get your concerns but the sooner we finalize this, the sooner I can get to building it and the sooner you can get out of Seungcheol’s house and into your own space.” 

Ahhh. 

Right. 

A part of you was thankful that Jihoon wasn’t a part of this discussion otherwise he would’ve seen right through your subtle attempts to delay this process. You didn’t want to be an inconvenience on purpose but….. You were just a girl and you wanted to get to know Cheol a little better. It didn’t help that he was barely ever at home, leaving at the crack of dawn for training and only returning very late at night, after he finished attending night school doing that stupid astronomy degree of his. The only time you ever got with him was on Sunday because members did not train on Sundays - everyone was free to do whatever they wanted. And you wanted to do Cheol. 

So far you only had the chance to spend one weekend alone with him and maybe just maybe if you pushed your house construction a little you’d have the chance for another weekend or two. Then perhaps, you’d be able to take this unresolved, unnecessary tension with him somewhere. 

“How about you take a few days and work on your plan again Y/n?” Joshua rolled up the large paper carefully, handing it to you. “Whenever you’re ready let me and Mingyu know - we’ll try and figure out the materials, budget, feasibility and all that.” 

“It’s times like this I miss Jeonghan’s brain.” Mingyu clicked his tongue, disappointed. “Where did he say he was off to again?” 

“When does he ever tell us?” Joshua mumbled. “He should be back by nightfall though. Jun said he needed help with the fertilizer composition and Han told him he would help.” 

“Wow, he’s capable of being useful.” You rolled your eyes, stashing the blueprint into your bag. Mingyu and Joshua laughed, amused.

“Jeonghan is always useful..” 

“We still haven’t managed to figure out a thing about my lawsuit and my hearing is in a few weeks-” 

“Han and Wonwoo will sort it out Y/n, don’t worry.” Joshua rubbed your arm comfortingly. “They’re the best one can ask for.” 

“Yeah except I can’t seem to ask Jeonghan for anything cause he’s a little bitch or ask Wonwoo anything because for that he would need to realise that I exist and I don’t think he does.” 

“Wonwoo hyung is….” Mingyu trailed off. “He’s a little hard to understand. Just give him some time. Once you figure him out, you’ll know why he’s like this.”

Exasperated, you shook your head and walked away. Time was the one thing you never seemed to have. 

Like always, as the sun began setting you glanced out of the window of the library catching sight of the varied hues in the sky. On the camp ground you could see Mingyu riding his big mechanical bull, lighting up the fire torches around for the night. Pulling out the lighter from your bag, you stared at the candles stacked in the middle of the table. 

Sighing you cast the lighter aside and snapped your fingers, watching the flames come to life in your hand, dancing across your palm. Stretching your fingers, and moving your hand around, you watched the orange yellow light just glide across your skin like it was a pretty accessory and not literal fire that should have obliterated your hand by now. 

Fire never did burn you - how could it when a mere thought could make it come alive in your hands. You first discovered this when you were 16 and accidentally dunking your hand in a pot full of boiling water did not leave so much as a scar. Even though you were unscathed you roamed around for a few days with a fully bandaged hand - the world would have thought you were some sort of freak otherwise. Over the years you tried to play with fire in many ways, just to test your limits, just to see how far you could go and each time, much to your own dismay, the limit didn’t exist. Each time proved just how much you didn’t fit in the world, just how much you deserved to be alone because you really were a freak. 

But that was until a few weeks ago. 

Until you discovered it wasn’t the inability to burn that was the true madness - it was your ability to create fire itself. 

From there things spiraled. You learnt you weren’t the anomaly but a part of a rather large group of such circus acts - a world completely hidden from your own. In a cascade of events you were thrown into camp seventeen out of no will of your own and now, this was your life, this was your world. 

Holding your flaming hand over your redrawn sketches you glanced at them. Thanks to the two boys yet again canceling the meeting with you, you found yourself working in the library earlier than usual, exhausted by the time the sun set. As you debated between working a little more or heading back, the door opening with a slow creak made the decision for you - if it was windy outside, it was most likely going to rain and you didn’t want to stay long enough to get drenched. Quickly dousing the flame and blowing out the candles, you grabbed all your things and saw your way out. 

In the darkness, the camp was quiet as usual. You figured most of the members must’ve retired to their residences for the night and when you reached the House of Zeus, surprisingly, so had Seungcheol. 

“Y-you’re home.” You stuttered, watching the shirtless man, doing sit ups in the middle of the living room in the dim golden light of the paraffin lamps. 

Evidently Seungcheol hadn’t expected your presence so soon either because at the sound of your voice, he got up with a jerk, pulling a muscle in his abdomen. 

“Cheol oh my god-” 

“You’re early.” He got up wincing, holding the side of his trunk. “I’m sorry I should have been doing this in my room-” 

“I mean, the whole house is yours-” 

“There’s a heavy rain forecast today, not really much astronomy I can do-” 

“Yeah I came back because of the rain too-” 

“Yeah me too….” Seungcheol trailed off realising how silly he sounded. 

Grabbing his shirt from the floor, he attempted to put it on, groaning miserably at the pain shooting up his abdomen. Watching him struggle, you quickly dropped your things and tried to reach for him to help out, but just as your finger barely grazed over his skin, he stumbled back like he was electrocuted, pushing your hand away. 

“Don’t touch me.” 

“Cheol…. “ You frowned, confused. “I was just trying to help-” 

 “Seungcheol.” He corrected. “And I don’t need your help Y/n. Please just…. stay away from me.” 

You blinked at a complete loss of words at his unwarranted behaviour. Unsure about how you felt, you grabbed your bag from the floor, turned on your heel and walked out silently, the same way you came in. 

As usual, bad luck had followed you on your way out. 

Not only was your life miserable, the weather too decided to be a pain in your ass and it started drizzling the moment you stepped out of Seungcheol’s house. 

Even though the water was cold and you were shivering, you took off in the rain. You needed to get as far away from here as you could. 

You were such a fool. You should have known that Seungcheol wasn’t being nice or giving you your space, on the contrary he was keeping his distance, putting you at an arm’s length. It was evident today - not only was he uninterested, but somehow it seemed like your very presence was disturbing him in some way. 

And there was you who was always desperately wishing for the smallest interaction with him.. What an idiot. 

Hugging yourself, you walked further down the cobbled path. Tomorrow you were going to finalise your house plan with Mingyu and get out of Cheol’s house as soon as possible. But as much as you wanted to avoid him and pull yourself away, a part of you was still aching at the loss of something that you believed had a lot of potential. Why did it have to be him of all people? Why couldn’t it have been someone like Mingyu - he was hot as hell and unlike his leader, he actively showed interest in you all the time. 

As you raised your head, Mingyu’s house loomed before you and your feet, as if they had a brain of their own, took you towards his mini mansion of a residence. That was until you saw Jihoon stepping out of the same place and instinctively took a swift u-turn. 

The last person who could see you right now was Jihoon - that man would read you like an open book and know exactly how fucking embarrased you were. Hoping to god he didn’t spot you, you quickly ran, entering the nearest gate for temporary refuge, till you got out of his sight. 

But in hindsight, perhaps falling in Jihoon’s line of vision was better than the situation you had landed yourself in….. You weren’t really sure who’s house you had trespassed until the low growling expressed just how much his companion disliked it. 

Horang. 

Realising you had quite literally thrown yourself into the den of a wild cat, you froze, praying that it didn’t notice you and you could slip out as easily as you slipped in. But before you could do anything, a hand grabbed you quickly, leading you into the neighbouring cottage, shutting the door behind you. 

“Are you insane?” Soonyoung looked at you confused, shaking the water off his hair. “Why would you enter Horang’s enclosure unless you wanted to be ripped apart.” 

“I didn’t know….” You rubbed your arms, generating heat. “I was just….trying to escape the rain.” 

“You should have knocked on my door then..” He muttered, disappearing for a split second, returning with a towel in his hand. “Horang isn’t used to you yet so please don’t venture near my tiger in my absence - he only listens to me.” 

You tried not to hyperfixate on the inappropriate labeling of Horang in the off chance that an annoyed Soonyoung threw you back out. Instead, you accepted his towel, patting yourself dry, still shivering a little. With his hands on your shoulder, Soonyoung led you to the fireplace, guiding you to sit on the couch across. As you did, you glanced around his residence.

This was the first time you were in Soonyoung’s place and in all honesty, it looked much like that designated room in college dorms where all the parties happened - he had party lights everywhere, streamers hanging from the ceiling and techno music softly playing over the speakers. 

When you turned back to him, Soonyoung held out a christmas mug, with a grin. “Mulled wine.”

“I can’t.” You shook your head although in the headspace you were in, you could really use some alcohol. “I won’t be able to wake up on time tomorrow.” 

“It’s not like you’ll be on time even if you were sober.” He chuckled, immediately regretting his words as you narrowed your eyes at him. “You’re in the House of Dionysus. This is literally the only hot drink I have to offer.” 

Sighing you took it from him, desperate to have something warm coursing through your body after all that coldness you experienced earlier. 

“So, why are you out and about in the rain?” Soonyoung sank into the couch beside you, sipping a drink of his own. 

“I….just needed to be away from that house for a while.” You mumbled, taking a sip. 

“Why? Has Seungcheol gotten overbearing already?” 

“It’s not him….” 

“It’s always him.” Soonyoung sighed. “But it’s not his fault. He just has a lot of pressure on him to be perfect as a leader, you know? That sort of thing gets to you.” 

“I know. It’s just….. “ You sighed, not knowing how to explain things to him. “Forget it, I don’t want to talk about it.” 

“No, tell me.” He whined making you turn to him, finally noticing he was fully dressed from head to toe like he was about to march right into a party. 

“Are you going somewhere?” 

“Work?” Soonyoung stated like it was obvious. “Don’t tell me you forgot what I do.” 

You looked at him sheepishly. “I’ve been here for just a week Kwon and there’s thirteen of you so I’m sorry if it’s taking me some time.” 

“Forgiven.” He nodded amused. “I own the Midnight club in the city centre.” 

“Right, that big Demigod rave place.” 

“No, the Midnight club is for humans. There’s another club hidden behind it, After Hours - That’s for Demigods exclusively.” 

You let out an oh of realization as Soonyoung continued. 

“Business usually runs fine on its own but I try to drop by from time to time to just remind everyone who the boss is.” 

“I heard there’s a life size portrait of you behind the DJ booth to do the same.” 

“Obituaries are portraits too.” He rolled his eyes. “I need to let them know I am alive, kicking and always in charge.” 

You shook your head laughing. “Well then aren’t you getting late? You should probably leave by now-” 

“I don’t think I’m going.” He mumbled, downing his drink in one shot, red slowly creeping on his face. “Not in the mood.” 

Glancing at him silently, you just blinked at him. You knew guys like Soonyoung could not keep a thing in them - he would share whatever was bothering him without you even asking in three, two, on-

“The intel is that my ex is going to be there tonight.” 

“Ahh.” You crossed your feet on his couch, settling in. “And you don’t want to see her?” 

“I don’t want to see her with other men.” He gripped his mug tight. “With the news out that she’s single, guys will be falling all over her and I know she’s going to play along just to make me jealous.” 

“Well two can play that game right? You can do the same?” 

“What makes you think there are girls fawning all over me?” 

“Do you just want to hear me say you’re hot and that you could pull if you wanted to?” You cocked your head at him. “Cause I can. I have a little wine in me so I can use it as an excuse.” 

Soonyoung laughed, throwing his head back. “No I know I’m hot, but do you know who she is?” 

You shook your head, drinking up more. 

“Aphrodite’s daughter, the femme fatales of the demigod world - boys want her and girls don’t want to mess with her. No one is going to so much as look at her ex, forget trying to hit on me.” 

“Huh.” You pondered, the cogwheels in your brain turning. “Well technically, no one in the human world knows her so I’m sure one of them will-” 

“There’s no point of that. She knows I won’t go for a human.” 

“Why is that?” 

Soonyoung stared back at you a little hard before a small smirk formed on his face. “Y/n, are you a virgin?” 

You blinked, breaking out into a laugh. “I sure am drunk cause I seem to have missed why this intrusive question is relevant now?” 

Taking your empty mug from you, Soonyoung filled it up again from the pot. “What I mean is, demigods don’t sleep with humans sweetie.” 

“Why not?” 

“Because we’re half gods, do you think humans can really satisfy us?” Soonyoung raised his eyebrows. “Mortals can’t keep up with our sex drive.” 

As you looked confused, the smirk returned back to Soonyoung’ face. “Which is why I asked. If you haven’t realised that a mortal man can’t pleasure you, then either you’ve never had sex……. or you’ve never had an orgasm.” 

“I don’t have to answer that.” 

“Come on, humor me.” 

“Maybe I’m starting to get why your girlfriend dumped your annoying ass.” 

Soonyoung pouted, feigning hurt as you rolled your eyes. 

“So now if you want to get her back, you won’t be hit on by another demigod and you can’t be hit on by a human which means your only chance of making her jealous is with……” You looked at him intently. “Kwon Soonyoung, why are your eyes glimmering with mischief?” 

“You.” He took the cup from your hands and set it on the table, much to your dismay. “You’re the only one who she doesn’t know about and the only one who doesn’t know her…..” 

“So?” 

“Oh you’d be the perfect bait.” Soonyoung clapped his hands. “One look at you next to me and she’s going to be quaking in her boots.” 

“If you think I’m about to stroll into a nightclub and pretend to hit on you to make your ex girlfriend jealous you’re sorely mistaken.” 

“Why?” He whined. “Why can’t you do me a small favour. I saved you from Horong-” 

“Number one. If you didn’t pull me into your house, I would have ran out of the gate and been safe anyways-” 

“Sure.” 

“Number two, I don’t know what the hell is in this wine. Normally it takes a whole bottle to knock me down but two glasses in and I’m already buzzed-” 

“It’s a special blend.” 

“And number three, unfortunately for you, women are really observative creatures. One look at me next to you and she’s going to know there’s absolutely nothing going on between us.” 

Soonyoung opened and closed his mouth like he was thinking about what to say. “It won’t work out Kwon.” 

“This always happens.” He sighed. “She breaks it off with me for any small thing, goes on to have her fun, pushes me till I have to beg for her forgiveness and then she accepts it whenever she feels like. Everything is always whenever she feels like it. We haven’t even had sex in like two years-” 

“Okay.” You cut him off before he went into details you didn’t need to know. “If you’re so aware of what she’s doing, why do you always give in to her? Do you really like her or… is she just a habit?” 

“I don’t know.” Soonyoung stared at the floor, lost in thought. “I just know that we’ve been together since we were 18. And I can’t throw that away.” 

“I never knew you were such a romantic Kwon.” 

He laughed, sinking further into the couch. 

“You really want her back huh?” 

“I do.” 

“And this time do you want her to make the effort?” 

“A man can hope.” 

“Well then.” You turned to him. “Point number three was relevant only if she saw me…do you have your phone?” 

Soonyoung nodded, patting his many pockets and finally finding it, holding it out. 

“You're going to call and tell her you're hitting on me?”

“No…. If you give her a missed call will she call back?”

“Not immediately.” He sighed. “She'll take her time to pretend like she didn't see and then get back to me-” 

“Do it.” He continued to look at you confused. “Call her and cut the call.” 

He followed through but the frown didn't leave him the whole time. “Y/n what exactly are you doing?” 

“This may be a bit diabolical but it should do the trick.” You took a deep breath glancing at Soonyoung. “When she calls you back, she's going to hear us having sex.”

“W-what?” 

“Before you get any ideas, I'm not going to have sex with you Soonyoung, we're just going to make her think that we are.”

“How exactly will we do that?”

“We'll fake it.” You shrugged. “Make a couple of wet skin smacking sounds-” 

“and you could moan my name, say how good I'm making you feel.” 

“Didn’t you get onboard this real fast.” You narrowed your eyes at him. “I'm going to make it really clear once again that this is for her not-” 

Ring! 

At the sound of the ringtone both of you glanced at his phone and in a split second, Soonyoung picked up the call, holding it against his ear. Thankful that you got the opportunity to execute your idea so soon and determined to put up the show you promised, you immediately got to it, clearing your throat.

“Fuck yes Soonyoung, that feels so good-” 

With widened eyes and a swift movement, Soonyoung shut your mouth with his hand, shaking his head. 

“Yeah, yeah I remember…..Oh no that was just…. our cow?…..Yes Daisy, she's just having a rough night….. Anyways thanks for the reminder Hyungwon.”

You stared at him mortified, all the wine threatening to exit your system. 

“Yeah sure, see you tomorrow bro.”

Soonyoung brought down both the phone and his hand at the same time. 

“Oh god I’m so sorry, I thought it was-” 

“That’s your idea of having sex??” He looked at you shocked. “Thank god it wasn’t Mina because there was no way in hell she would have believed that?” 

“Hey, I had no preparation time, you try faking it off the bat.” You mumbled. “Besides, it wasn’t so bad.” 

“Wasn’t so bad?” Soonyoung looked scandalised. “Do you even know what you sounded like? Fuck yes Soonyoung, that feels good-” 

You leaned back inching away from him. 

“What the…..what was that?” 

“That's what you said.” 

“I know but” You frowned unsure if you heard right or if you were starting to get too drunk. “You sounded exactly like me. Like your voice, it….it was mine.” 

“Oh.” Soonyoung scratched the back of his head. “Yeah well um being the son of the God of Theater comes with its own skill set. Imitation helps confuse opponents during war - it has actually saved us in quests many times.”

“You can imitate anyone?”

Soonyoung nodded.

“Any sound they make?”

He nodded again as you let out a low whistle. 

“Well that's brilliant, then you don't even need me. You can make your girlfriend jealous by simply impersonating me.” 

“The keyword is imitate. I can only repeat sounds I hear, I can't just make them up.” He shifted in his seat. “So if I should impersonate you, I need to hear what you actually sound like during sex.” 

You rolled your eyes. “Don't push your luck Kwon.”

“I'm kidding.” He laughed leaning back into the couch, his eyes fluttering shut. “But you really have to work on the faking.” 

“Yeah I've been told.” You muttered as Soonyoung sat up again.

“Aha, so you have never had an orgasm!” 

“Because of a man, no I've not.” You confessed. “But bold of you to assume that I'm not perfectly capable of my own.”

Soonyoung looked confused. 

“Ever heard of masturbation, genius?” 

Soonyoung's mouth formed an O of realisation. “Well I've been in a relationship for almost 10 years so I've never had to take care of myself.”

“Don't rub it on my face Kwon.” You scoffed but regretted immediately knowing some dirty joke was going to come out of the man. So shutting his mouth with your hand, you held a finger to your lips. “Not a word. You're going to shut up till your girlfriend calls back.”

“That could be a very very long time.” He mumbled against your hand making you press it harder against his mouth with a shush. 

5 minutes later you were on your fourth mug of wine and Mina still hadn't called. 

10 minutes later, you were nearly falling asleep and Soonyoung was already snoring away beside you. 

15 minutes later the sound of the rain began to get softer outside. 

And 20 minutes later was when you finally lost your patience, shaking Soonyoung awake. 

“It’s getting late, I should go….” 

Soonyoung looked up at you sleepily as you got off the couch, standing up. 

“You should.….. I’m sorry, I shouldn't have roped you into this” He glanced at the blank screen on his phone. “Clearly Mina is either too busy having fun on her own or she doesn’t care.” 

You smiled at him sadly, as he pulled his feet up, snuggling into the couch. 

“I'm so sorry.” You whispered. “Goodnight Kwon.” 

“Goodnight sweetie.”

Setting the mug down, you grabbed your bag and opened his front door, relieved that the rain seemed to have stopped. But something was also stopping you from stepping out. 

Giving it a thought and sighing, you turned around, looking at the half asleep man again. 

“You said you could imitate me right?” 

Soonyoung's eyes slowly fluttered open.  

“So if you listen to how I actually sound, if and when she calls back, you can execute the plan on your own right?”

Soonyoung looked at you in a mix of confusion, drunkenness and sleepiness.

“Are you saying that…”

“No, I'm not going to sleep with you Kwon Soonyoung.”

“But you're horrible at faking.” 

“Yet again I'm going to remind you about masturbation.” 

You sighed, looking at his eternally lost expression. Grabbing his hand, you pulled him off the couch, leading him to his room. 

Soonyoung's room was just how you expected it to be - a mess. There were things scattered everywhere, all kinds of band posters up on the wall, snack wrappers all over the floor. 

He quickly kicked the trash under his bed and looked at you pleadingly. “You cannot tell Mingyu how messy my room is. And you most definitely cannot tell Seungcheol I'm snacking - he does not understand post break up slump.”

You gritted your teeth annoyed to be reminded of him again. Of course he didn't understand anything remotely related to feelings.

“Don't worry, no one's gonna know anything because you too are going to keep your mouth shut about whatever happens tonight.” 

“I still don't know what's happening tonight.” He mumbled as you walked around his room, glancing at everything. 

“I'm going to get myself off and you're going to listen and take notes.” Soonyoung's eyes finally widened in realisation.“Do you have a towel?” 

He nodded, quickly going through the stack of clothes piled on the chair across his bed and pulled out a long white one. Taking it from him you laid it down on his bed, the two of you staring at it mindlessly. 

“Could you also close the curtains?” You fidgeted with your fingers, putting your bag down at the foot of his bed as Soonyoung nodded. “Also dim the lights please.”

Following through your requests he tried not to look at you as you stripped out of your jacket and threw it on the bed. But when you unclasped your bra and pulled it out from under your shirt, Soonyoung was quite literally gawking. 

“I’m hot.” You mumbled as he walked back, standing much closer to you than he was before. 

“Yeah you are…. I mean,” He cleared his throat when you raised an eyebrow at him. “Yeah it's a little hot in here.” 

Both of you tried to ignore the sound of cold raining softly falling against the window. 

“On second thoughts,” You took a step back. “I don’t know if I can do this.” 

“W-why not?” 

“If you haven’t noticed I am buzzed as hell and I’m not sure I can do…. a great job on myself right now.” 

Lips slowly curling into a smile, Soonyoung cocked his head. “I can help.” 

“Yes and I can finally use all that combat training and kick your ass. Soonyoung I am not sleeping with-” 

“What? No, no I mean….. just wait here.” 

Your eyes followed him as he jogged out of his room, leaving you alone with your thoughts. You must be crazy to suggest this. Sure there was alcohol in your system and sure you were trying to get your mind off Seungcheol, avoiding going back to his house but this…..

“Here you go.” 

Soonyoung strolled back in with what you could only describe as a wooden looking, very phallic instrument. 

“That’s…” 

He nodded. “A dildo.” 

“I have so many questions.” 

“Let me clarify. Yes I have used a dildo before-” 

“Oh god.” 

“- Although my girlfriend isn’t the biggest fan of it-” 

“This wasn’t my question.” 

“-I do occasionally enjoy it myself.” 

“I don’t think I should be a part of this conversation.” 

“But this dildo in particular, has never been used by either of us before.” 

“That!” You pointed out. “That’s all I needed to know.” 

Soonyoung held it out to you, looking at you expectantly. You gulped. 

“You know, I don’t think I can do this. I’m actually more of a vibrator girl myself.” 

“Now who’s indulging in the TMI?” 

You rolled your eyes. “My point is, I don’t need this, I can just do it myself-” 

“I haven’t even gotten to the story behind this.” He giggled. “This is my father’s.” 

“Aaaand I’m done here.” 

“No what I mean is-” He shuffled closer to you like he was revealing a big secret. “My father may be the god of wine and ecstasy and madness and theatre and so many things but he is also…. the creator of the dildo.” You stared at him vacantly. What?? “I don’t think you wanna know the story behind it, it’s disturbing as fuck-” 

“More disturbing than everything so far?” 

“-but basically, a few years back, my father was temporarily exiled from Olympus and while he was in the human world, he had, what he calls, a magnificent business idea….sex toys. Dildo’s in particular. That’s when he made this.” He held it up and you wished he did it a little less proudly. “This isn’t an ordinary dildo Y/n, no. This baby can take on the shape, size, dimensions and every single tiny detail” He gave a dramatic pause. “Of the person you are imagining while going at it.”

“W-what?” You blinked at him stumped. “You mean to say it…. morphs into a replica of someone’s actual dick?” 

Soonyoung nodded fast. “This piece is a prototype that Dionysus made but when he brought the idea to Zeus it was shut down immediately because Gods aren’t supposed to interfere with human business and all that hoo ha, so he left it with me before he returned home.” With a small smile dancing on his lips, he held it out to you. “So if you want, it's all yours.” 

You stared at it. 

A magic dildo that could take the shape of any dick you wanted? 

You would have to be insane to say no to that. 

Pretending to hesitate just so you didn’t come across completely deranged, you slowly took the toy off Soonyoung’s hand, feeling the weight of it in your own. As you tried to picture how exactly this night might go, Soonyoung took a few steps back, grabbed a fistful of the material behind his neck and pulled his shirt over his head. 

“What?” He smirked as your eyes ran down his chiseled body, mouth moving but no words leaving it. “Didn’t you say it was hot?” 

As Soonyoung moved all the clothes stacked on the chair to the floor and sat down, you watched as the minor oversights in your plan came into play. If he had to take notes,  then Kwon Soonyoung was going to watch you. 

Tongue in the cheek, you glanced around the room, thanking all the gods in Olympus when you spotted a lacy blindfold hanging on the headboard. Without questioning its existence in his room, you quickly grabbed it and threw it at him.

“The deal was for audio Kwon, no visuals.” 

In complete contrast to his hot as fuck appearance he pouted like a child as you shook your head and looked at the blindfold pointedly. Sighing, he reached for it and put it over his eyes, tying it behind his hand. Not trusting him entirely, you walked up to him, slotting yourself between his legs and pulled the knot. Soonyoung’s hands gripped your thighs in both surprise and pain. 

“Sorry.” He mumbled, fingers softly grazing your legs as he pulled his hands away. “I promise, I can’t see a thing.” 

You nodded, then realised he said he couldn’t see and cleared your throat. “Yeah, okay.” 

“Okay.” He breathed, leaning back, waiting expectantly. 

Taking a few seconds, you let out a deep determined breath, preparing yourself for what was coming. As you unbuttoned your jeans, shimmying both your shorts and underwear down your legs, your eyes finally took a good look at the man of the hour, Kwon Soonyoung. Yeah he was one of the members who often trained shirtless which meant you had seen this display many times before but this was perhaps the first time you were actually paying attention to it. Before this, you hadn’t quite realised just how beautifully tanned and toned he was or how much that undercut suited him or how hot he looked biting his lower lip. 

Kicking your garments away, you pried your eyes, reminding yourself that this man was taken. Or at least would be taken again pretty soon. You shouldn’t do this. You shouldn’t be looking at him, you shouldn’t be thinking about him and he sure as fuck cannot be the inspiration for your new magic sex toy. 

That unfortunately meant that there was only one other person in your mind who could be the muse - Choi Seungcheol. Despite his dismissal earlier and despite being someone who held herself as a very high level of self respect, it was evident that your body shamelessly still craved him - he was the only one running in your mind. Trying to block him out, you arranged the pillows on Soonyoung’s bed against the headboard, adjusted the towel and slowly climbed on. In all the time that you took leaning against it, spreading your legs and settling in, Soonyoung remained incredibly quiet. Patient. 

Although he couldn’t see you, watching him felt weird, given the man and the dick on your mind were not him. Sighing, you glanced at the object you were gripping - it had already taken shape of what you desired and the sight of it made you gulp. 

Lord was Choi Seungcheol thick.

Given his beefy exterior and broad build you had always assumed he was packed between his legs but this was nowhere near what you were imagining, not even close. Earlier, you were worried how you would get yourself off when you weren’t even wet enough but now you were practically dripping with the thought of that inside you. Still, you didn’t think it could fit, not without any prep. 

Slipping two fingers in your mouth you wet them messily before guiding them to your folds, smearing the spit with your very evident arousal. When you let out a soft sigh, Soonyoung shifted in his seat like he was alert and when your fingers teased your hole, slowly slipping in, an unintentional moan left you too, making him practically grip the armrests of his couch tight. 

“I'm going to need more than that Y/n.” He whispered. “What are you doing right now?” 

“I’m prepping myself, it’s…” You gulped. “It’s too big.” 

“Do you need lube?” He frowned. “Although I don’t know where it is….or if I even have any-” 

“That’s okay.” You shook your head. “I think I’m wet enough. Almost.” 

“Do you need any help?” 

You glanced at his tense body. “How can you help?” 

“Are you the kind that listens to instructions?”

“Occasionally.” 

“Then push your fingers further.” He exhaled. “Curl them up.” 

Although that was what was on your mind anyways, you obeyed. As your fingers brushed that spot, a soft fuck escaped your lips. 

“Feel good?” 

“Yeah.” You nodded. “Yeah that’s good.”

“Then move.” He cocked his head. “Slowly at first, then pick up speed.” 

Even before he finished his sentence you had followed through, fingers pumping faster, head falling back as the grip around the dildo in your hand tightened. 

“Add another finger.” 

“This feels good enough.” 

“This will feel better.” He urged. “Stretch yourself a little and add another finger.” 

Scissoring yourself open, you held back the moan that was threatening to tumble out, terrified Soonyoung would hear you. Belatedly you realised - Soonyoung was supposed to hear you. 

“Fuck that does feel better.” 

“Yeah?” 

“Yeah.” 

“Are you ready for more?” 

“.......I think so.” 

“Then wet the dildo.” He shifted. “Put it in your mouth.” 

Hesitating just a bit you brought it up to your eye level, still taken aback by its sheer girth. In the dim light of the lamp on the nightstand you can see a stark vein running along his length, the sight of it nearly making your mouth water. Oh you wanted him to fill your mouth, you wanted him to fill you just about anywhere so bad but it was clear from earlier that Seungcheol didn’t want the same. So you were just going to take this chance and fuck him out of your brain. After tonight you were not going to think of Choi Seungcheol anymore. 

Determined, you wrapped your mouth around the tip, humming against the weight on your tongue before pulling it out with a wet pop. As Soonyoung’s breath hitched, you sunk your mouth down on it again, taking it further in, not far enough to let it hit the back of your throat, but enough to just slightly choke around it, drool running down the corner of your mouth. 

“Y/n,” Soonyoung’s voice sounded almost choked too. “Please….” 

You’ve never had a man beg for you like this before and it wasn’t enough to touch him but to touch yourself? Something in you swelled in pride, but something was also terrified about what things would be like once this was over - could you and Soonyoung really be the same again? And if things were going to change, how would they be? 

“Sweetie, you have to do something….” 

Knowing you needed something in you more than he did, you drove the thoughts away before aligning the tip at your dripping hole and slowly pushing Seungcheol’s girth in. 

“Holy shit..” You sighed as you thrusted his length further, the stretch serving a sting that slowly ebbed from pain to pleasure. 

“Is it all the way in?” Soonyoung groaned as you shook your head gulping.

“It’s not…” You panted, glancing down to see barely any length disappearing in you yet you were so full. “I can’t.”

“You can.” He licked his drying lips. “You can Y/n, come on - fuck yourself like you want to be fucked.” 

Yes you knew Soonyoung had a horrible habit of pointless flirting but you did not think his mouth was capable of spewing such filth too. 

“Tell me how you like it.” 

“Deep.” You whimpered, answering him as you shoved it in more, feeling it hit all the right places. “I like it deep.” 

“And fast?” 

“And fast.” 

“Then move.” 

And you did, pulling it out, pistoning it into you, sharp intakes of breath and curse words leaving you as you did. You felt your eyes roll back, threatening to shut but when they landed on Soonyoung they widened - he had slid down his chair, manspread now a lot wider and stark against his pants was the imprint of his uncomfortably trapped boner.

“Soonyoung….” You accidentally moaned, simply trying to get his attention. “Are you… hard?” 

“Unbearably.” He confessed immediately. “I’m s-sorry, it’s been a while-” 

“Do you want to touch yourself?”

You don’t know why exactly you asked him that but you wanted him to feel good too. Just as good as faux Seungcheol was making you feel. 

“I think I can cum without that.” He half laughed, half groaned. “But god yes I want to.”

“Do it.” You directed him, halting your own movements, watching him. “Touch yourself.” 

Without wasting a second, Soonyoung instantly unbuttoned his pants and stuck his hand down, wrapping it around his erection. As he shifted uncomfortably, you could tell he would’ve felt a lot better if he could completely free himself.

“Careful. Otherwise I’ll see you…I mean it…” 

“Do you mind?” He raised his eyebrows at you. “Would it bother you if I….” 

If you were being honest, since the moment you laid eyes on the outline of his dick you were curious…

“No.” You shook your head. “I don’t.” 

“Then I don’t give a flying fuck.” 

He raised his hips a little, just enough to pull down his pants as his erection sprung free, resting against his abs, pink and flushed. 

Oh he was long. 

Seungcheol might be thick but Soonyoung was long, like he could reach places no one else could. As he spat in his hand and smeared the pre cum along his length pumping it in his fist, you gulped, forgetting that you too were in the middle of doing the same thing, just staring. 

“Y/n,” He moaned your name, throwing his head back, setting off a strange fire in your groin. “Match my pace.” 

You nodded, thankful to not have to put your own brain to this which was threatening to shut off any moment now. Watching him half lidded, you let him set the pace for your movements, matching him almost perfectly. 

“Fuck this feels so good.” Soonyoung whimpered. 

“It does.” You agreed, with struggling breaths. “Soonyoung please…. Faster.” 

“Faster?” He smirked, but listened. “You really are one of us huh.” 

“I need more.” You whined, feeling yourself at an edge you were just not able to cross. “Soonyoung….” 

“I wish I could help, baby.” He sighed, “I really do wish…” 

“What would you have done?” 

“I’d have my mouth everywhere…marked your neck…. marked those pretty breasts….fuck Y/n, you’d have to beg me to stop.” 

“Don’t.” You moaned, pushing your shirt up with your free hand, grabbing a tit, squeezing it painfully hard. “Tell me more…” 

“I’d hold the toy for you, watch you fuck yourself on it….” He stroked himself faster, almost erratically. “Maybe give it to you from the back so I can see how your ass-” 

Groaning annoyed at the sound of music coming loudly from his pocket, your movements faltered, eyes widening. It was different from the ringtone earlier which probably meant-

“Is that Mina?” 

“Yeah.” 

“P-pick it up Soonyoung.” 

“Ignore it.” 

“Soon-” 

“Ignore it.” He emphasized. “Go on Y/n, I don’t know how long the effects of that toy are going to last.” 

And that’s what made you stop wondering why Soonyoung wouldn’t pick up the call when this was in fact the most ideal situation the two of you were meant to be caught in. You didn’t want to lose what you were pumping inside you, you didn’t want to lose the feeling of Seungcheol stretching you out. As you resumed the pace, Soonyoung’s voice left him like a croak. 

“Do you like the thought of this? Someone listening to you get off?” 

You didn’t want to answer that. Wasn’t the kind of things you liked evident by the fact that you were fucking yourself to one man while watching and listening to another? 

“Because I love that you’re watching.” He whispered. “It’s driving me insane.” 

“I wanna see you cum.” You pulled the toy out of you, tossing it onto the towel before your fingers found your clit rubbing circles hard.

“Fuck I'm close.” He pumped himself faster, losing rhythm, broken moans and whimpers leaving him. “So close.”

Words left your mouth too as incoherent babbles as you felt your back arch and insides tighten pleasurably. Eyes crossing and shut tight, you finally came, chest heaving, trying to catch a breath. As you slowly came around and ran your fingers down your folds realising just how much you came, Soonyoung continued to push himself over the edge, like he just needed a little more nudge to finally find his release. Gulping you swung your legs off the bed and silently walked up to him, standing between his manspread, leaning till your lips were right by his ear. 

“Cum for me Soonyoung.” 

Almost immediately, with a guttural moan, his head fell back, baring his neck as spurts of cum shot onto his hand and torso, painting them white. Once the sheer amount left him he finally slumped back into his chair, breathing again, like he had been holding it in for too long. The sight of his cum all over his abs against the sheen of sweat on it made you clench unwillingly and you ran two fingers over it, collecting it. You knew his lips parted to catch his breath but you took the chance to slip your digits into his mouth, letting him taste himself. Surprised but not unpleasantly, Soonyoung ran his tongue along them, licking it clean, pulling away with a pop.

“You taste as good as you sound.” 

It's only then that you realise your own arousal was coating your fingers too. 

Scoffing awkwardly, you shuffled back, picking up your shorts and panties from the floor, putting them on slowly.  

“I'm not dressed yet!” You shrieked, futilely trying to cover yourself as Soonyoung attempted to remove his blindfold. Holding his hand up, he allowed you to get dressed in the silence that followed. Silence that was too much to bear, silence that if he hadn’t broken, you would have. 

“I wasn't sure if I heard right but I thought…” He let out a deep breath as he tucked his flaccid self back in his pants. “I thought you took someone's name as you came.” 

You froze. 

You hadn't realised but now that you thought about it…. maybe, just maybe, you had taken Seungcheol’s name as your orgasm hit you. Yes you were incredibly turned on by Soonyoung and the sight of him and the sounds that left him but there was only one thing running at the back of your mind - cheol, cheol, cheol. 

“I'm not sure what you heard.” You brushed away his concerns, trying to sound casual. “I don't even know what I was saying, I was in some other zone entirely.” 

Soonyoung hummed in response and didn't push you for any further details. Grateful, you wiped your hands on the towel laid out before grabbing it, the bedsheet as well as the dildo and stuffed them all in your bag, throwing it over your shoulder - this was your mess to deal with.

“You done?” 

“Yeah just….put fresh sheets please.” 

“Oh don't worry about all that.” He got up, attempting to take his blindfold yet again. “I got it. If you want you could-” 

“Goodbye Soonyoung.” You stepped back, knowing he was offering for you to stay the night. Instead you headed for the door, hoping to leave before your eyes met his again. “I hope I was of help.” 

And as you left, you heard him sigh, revealing something he probably didn't mean for you to hear. 

“I don't think so Y/n.”

—

When you left Soonyoung’s house the rain had stopped but as you stood in the dining hall before the laundry machines the storm had returned yet again, much heavier this time. You glanced outside the windows at the obscurity sighing. It was like things just hated being in your favour. 

When the ding of the washer went off, you shifted the sheets into the dryer and decided to leave it there for the night considering you couldn't carry them back in the rain - you’d deal with them in the morning anyways, you weren’t ready to see Soonyoung just yet.

When you grabbed your bag from the floor, the weight had not reduced much - the dildo was still in it except it was back in its original popsicle-like shape, any trace of its resemblance to Seungcheol lost. You'd simply washed it and put it back in the bag, unsure what else to do with it. A part of you was annoyed that it had taken after Seungcheol of all people but the other was terrified that if you were to ever use it again, it would probably still model after him yet again. 

Disappointed with yourself you took a deep breath and shook your head. No. No more Choi Seungcheol. This ends here. 

Glancing at the machines one last time, you held onto your bag and ran out into the rain, hoping that Seungcheol had retired to his room by the time you reached. Instead, just as you approached the House of Zeus, you heard his voice. 

“Y/n!” 

He was drenched from head to toe, his blonde hair sticking to his face much like his shirt plastered against his pecs, like he had been soaked in the rain for hours. Letting out a struggled breath, you walked straight into his house, ignoring him. Seungcheol jogged over as fast as he could, putting himself in between you and the doors. 

“Y/n please listen to me-” 

“I don’t want to.” You attempted to go around him, only to be blocked by him again. 

“I just want to explain what happened earlier-” 

“I don’t care enough for an explanation.”

“I do!” 

You rolled your eyes as you pushed him away, a lot less gently than you intended to and Seungcheol immediately caught your hand, pulling you towards him.

“Seungcheol-” 

“You…. you can touch me.” He looked at his fingers wrapped around your wrist in awe, then at your palm flat against his chest.

“Didn’t you say you didn’t want me to-” 

“You shouldn’t be able to.” He muttered like he was amazed, unable to tear his eyes away. “How can you….” 

“Seungcheol, you're not making any sense.” 

He let out a deep breath. “Do you remember when you first came to camp we told you that every demigod has a certain set of offensive and defensive powers depending on their parentage?” 

You nodded, frowning.

“As the son of Zeus, my defensive power is….an electric field.” Oh. “At times like war, or in adrenaline driven situations, I become highly charged, rendering anyone who so much as comes two feet near me electrocuted. It's supposed to be a way to weaken enemies.” He sighed, “That’s why I was afraid of you touching me. I didn’t want you to get hurt.” 

“But…..Seungcheol I’m not an enemy and this isn’t a war-” 

“I get nervous around you.” He avoided your eye. “I don’t know, I just….. I can feel my skin prickling around you but……” He glanced at where your hands met his again. “You don’t feel anything?” 

“No, no I don’t but why do I make you nervous?” 

Seungcheol smiled softly. “Do you really not know?” 

You suppressed the grin forming on your own face. Fucking finally. 

“No.” You shook your head feigning innocence. “Tell me.” 

“Can I show you?” 

Maybe you nodded a bit too eagerly, because Seungcheol chuckled, pushing himself up against the door, pulling you along with him. As your body pressed against his, his hands found your waist, gaze darkening. He leaned in, lips hovering over yours, whispering your name softly, like he loved the sound of it. As your breaths mingled, lightning went off behind you, the silver light illuminating his gorgeous face and all its sharp angles. Just as you moved closer, eyes fluttering shut, Seungcheol cleared his throat. 

“Y/n I’m sorry, I forgot that it’s late and we have training at 4 tomorrow.” He muttered, drawing his hands away. “You should sleep. I can’t excuse your lateness everyday.” 

And yet again Choi Seungcheol left you completely baffled as he opened the door behind him and walked in, away from you. 

a/n - please send me your thoughts - this kind of writing is waaaay out of my comfort zone, I need to know I'm not completely messing shit up and if I missed you in the taglist, please lmk!

𖠗 𓂃 。˚ ⋆𝘔𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘩𝘢𝘰, 𝘠𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘉𝘰𝘥𝘺 𝘗𝘪𝘦𝘳𝘤𝘦𝘳

pairings: xu minghao x reader genre: one night stand, s2l (?), smut (mdni), drabble, *not proof read* word count: 1.3k words synopsys: on a whim, your friends dare you to get nipple piercings done at minghao's tattoo and piercing shop. inspired by: this minghao lip piercing vid

tags: bodypiercer/tattooartist!mingaho, touchstarved!reader, afab!reader, minghao has a lip and tongue piercing. smut tags/ warnings : nipple play, unprotected sex (plz do not do this w strangers lol), cream pie, fingering, pet names (sweetheart, baby), unrealistic portrayals of getting your nipples pierced.

likes, comments, reblogs are appreciated/encouraged ^-^

note: ...hi lol the amount of times i saw that video of mingaho... like i can't not just post a short fic about him being the person to do your first body piercing (?) djflajdfhkjahk . this is my first time posting something so short lol. this is just a lil something so i could take a small break from writing my scoups fic :>. lmk what u think!!! enjoy heeheh &lt;;3

“You’re going to have to take off your shirt.” Minghao looks at you, a little unimpressed.

With doe eyes, you nod hesitantly. Laying down on the sterilized but soft piercing bed, your palms begin to sweat. The thought of the needles going through your sensitive nipples, twice, is causing you to second guess your friends’ dare. The adrenaline rush catching up with you, making you believe that you should’ve just asked for another option. Anything but this…, you chanted in your head.

Minghao puts his gloves on, glancing back at you to see what state you’re in, concluding that you’re at the stage of regret.

He prepares all his piercing instruments on a tray beside where you lay. As he takes his seat on the chair your pulse starts to pick up again. Thanking god that the tattoo shop had private rooms for piercings.

“Uh Miss. Your shirt?” He asks again, the needle now in his hands.

“Oh. Oh! Right sorry.” You chuckle uncomfortably, lifting up your baby tee. Your nipples now on full display for a complete stranger. An attractive stranger at that.

“You know you don’t have to do this.” He says nonchalantly as he tweaks your nipples. It causes your breath to hitch, the feeling his fingers on twisting you. You know it’s not in a sexual manner, but you feel a buzz rushing down to your core.

You can’t help but notice the way his tugs at his lip piercing, his tongue occasionally poking out of his mouth, allowing you to catch a glimpse of his tongue piercing.

“I-it’s too late now.” You stutter. Your answer comes out almost in a breathy moan but you quickly cover it up with a cough.

“Hm. Not really. I can see how scared you are.” Minghao shrugs.

He notices the way your thighs squeeze together. He smirks inwardly, the fact that you’re getting turned on during a piercing is intriguing to him.

“Well I can’t just back out now.” You whine, Minghao continues to prod at your nipples. Trying to find the perfect place to strike the needle through. He finally picks up on the effect he has on you.

“You’re quite a dirty girl aren’t you?” He chuckles, staring into your eyes.

You freeze at his words, the seriousness in his gaze indicating he isn’t joking around.

“W-what the fuck? Why would you even say that?”

“Because I know that pussy of yours is dripping right now.” He smirks.

You’re utterly baffled, your mouth opening and closing but you can’t seem to answer him. He isn’t even wrong, you’re so turned on just from him playing with your nipples.

“I-I don’t know what you’re talking about” You huff, the blush on your cheeks running down to your neck.

You do know though, because you can feel your panties begin to stick to your pussy lips.

Minghao puts down his piercing instruments and takes off his gloves, standing up from his chair to tower over your laying body. His hand trailing up your inner thigh, it surprises you enough that you let out a soft whimper. Minghao only smirks at your reaction.

He isn’t the type to fuck a client, but the way your doe eyes looked at him as he tried to find the sweet spot on your sensitive buds turned him on. He knew right at that moment that he was going to pierce you in more than one place, except the second time wasn’t going to be with a needle.

As his long fingers ascend up your thigh, he finally reaches the heat between your legs. His movements causing your skirt to hike up your body.

“Naughty naughty girl…” He mutters as he feels for the dampness on your underwear.

If he weren’t so damn hot, you really wouldn’t be feeling this way. But it was something about his dark hair and the way his tongue played with his lip piercing, it was hypnotizing to say the least.

“Hmmph please,” You let out a wanton sigh, your eyebrows scrunching.

His fingers rub your throbbing clit through the fabric of your underwear. His movements precise due to his years of experience tattooing and piercing people.

“What do you want sweetheart?” He coos.

Minghaos fingers move your panties to the side, letting the pads of fingers glide against your cunt. Rubbing circles on your puffed bud, he begins to kiss up your exposed upper half. His wet kisses and lip piercing leaving a hot and cold tingling against your searing skin.

“Y-your fingers. Please.” You beg him, gripping onto the forearm that’s playing with your sopping core.

He doesn’t say anything more. Giving into your request, he places two fingers into your fluttering hole. You moan loudly, feeling the sensation of his long digits filling you.

“You’re fucking soaking baby” He groans, imagining how tight you’re going to feel on his cock.

Minghao cant wait. He wants to know what it feels like to be inside you.

Pulling down his pants and boxers, he frees his hard length. Sighing at how unrestricted he is.

You lift your back off the piercing bed, leaning back with your arms supporting you. You create space for him, spreading your legs to let Minghao slip between them. Your panties stay pushed to the side, skirt hiked around your hips, and your shirt pulled up past your heavy breasts.

Minghao takes you in, seeing how sexy you look exposed for him.

“Tell me what you want me to do.” He demands, voice unwavering. It sends a shiver up your spine, loving how dominant he is.

“Want your cock please.” You whine, spreading your legs further.

He shakes his head and laughs softly, moving closer to fill in the space between you two. His lips touching yours, surprisingly soft. His tongue enters your mouth quickly, and your whimper at how his tongue piercing feels against your wet mouth.

You wrap your hands around his neck, legs around his waist. He long member poking at your entrance, teasing you. It bumps against your clit slightly, so much so that you being to lose patience.

Taking matters into your own hands, you grab his dick, pumping it a few times before leading it into your entrance. Minghao follows your actions, moving his hips forward to finally sheath himself in your warmth.

You both moan at the sudden intrustion, your mouths open, tongues playing with each other as he begins to pump himself in you.

A salacious moan leaves your lips, you throw your head back as his long hardness fill you completely, bumping into your cervix ever so slightly.

Minghao grips on your thighs harshly, completely feeling the ridges of your hot pussy. You’re completely sucking him in and he can’t get enough. The noise of your wet cunt being fucked by him is sending him closer to his orgasm by the second. he can’t help but move faster, just to hear the way his skin slaps against yours.

He only speeds up as time passes, causing your juices to leak onto the leather beneath you. Minghao dares to look down between you two, seeing the way his thick cock is splitting you open.

“F-fuck! ‘M gonna come” You exclaim, gripping onto his biceps.

“Come for me baby.” He mutters, thrusting in and out of you like no tomorrow.

You finally let go the second he takes one of his hand to rub your clit, tipping you over the edge with a stroke of his thumb. Your pussy clenches hard against him, sending him into his own release.

“Wanna cream you baby” He says in pants, you can only nod, already feeling over stimulated.

He takes that as permission to release his hot load into you.

Still continuing to rut his hips into yours, he rides out his high. The sight of his seed spilling past your lips and forming a white ring on his cock is enough to make him hard again.

To your dismay he pulls out, grabbing a paper towel to wipe his release off your thighs.

“So how about that piercing?” You ask with a shy smile, chest still heaving up and down from your previous ministrations.

© wonustars

𖠗 𓂃 。˚ ⋆

general taglist: @christinewithluv @soonyoonswoo

a/n: thank you for reading! if there’s any typos/mistakes/missing tags lmk! likes, comments, reblogs, and feedback are always appreciated. have a question, thought, or request? leave it in my ask box. mwah &lt;;3

- anna!!

heads up! poly fic :)

jeonghan let out the longest, loudest sigh you'd ever heard from him. he reaches up, rubbing at his arms for warmth as he looks around. "ah... i forgot my sweater again."

he's not subtle. he never is. but you say nothing, instead looking at joshua's phone again as he tries to figure out where this restaurant is. seungcheol doesn't look up from his phone, either, checking the reservation again to make sure that you'll still be able to make it on time.

"it's cold," he continues. "i think i might freeze before we get there..."

joshua doesn't look up, either. "cheol, are you still paying?"

"one less person to pay for," he says. you glance over and see how he's giving himself away with a cheesy grin right now, fighting it back to try and remain neutral.

jeonghan just steps behind you, wrapping his arms around you and snuggling in... for about five seconds before you're shoving him away the exact moment his cold hands slip underneath your shirt. you yelp, bumping into joshua, who steadies you immediately, and jeonghan ends up pushed into seungcheol.

"it's not even that cold!" you pout, already removing your cardigan. you throw it at him, pouting harder at the way he laughs at you. "just ask for it like a normal person next time!"

his eyes twinkle as he grins at you, already pulling your cardigan on. "thank you, honey," he chuckles, already moving in to kiss your pouty face. "i'm glad one of you loves me."

and he laughs when seungcheol throws his jacket over him, so endeared to how his two pouty loves give him whatever he needs, while his other love watches on with a smug grin.

i love watching seventeen when they do dumb shit and then the camera zooms out and there is woozi in the corner folding in half laughing his ass off

i love that little thing so much he is my happy pill

maroon - yjh

pairings: yoon jeonghan x fem!reader

content: your valentines date, yoon jeonghan, wasn't the best at being reliable since the beginning. you probably shouldn't be giving him another chance, but with how much he's seemed to change since he met you, who were you to judge?

wc: 4k

genre: angst, fluff, suggestive

warnings: alcohol consumption (kinda), blonde jeonghan needs his own warning, mentions/allusions to sex, fwb to lovers

a/n: hii <3 happy valentines day! my first official fic on this acc lol... i hope you all like it!! reblogs are appreciated

He didn’t show. Though you were somehow expecting him not to, it still felt like a gut-punch to the stomach, the embarrassment and the way it surged through your body and cheeks, was an agonizing reminder that he wasn’t actually yours. 

Evening was nearly upon the city street as you were perched on a bench. You scrunched the pretty red fabric beneath you, holding your equally as pretty bag close, both of which contrasted to the displeased frown on your face. You’ve always been fond of Valentine's day, hence the reason why your expectations were held higher today, but with every passing loving couple that walked by came a wave of disappointment and several wake-up calls.

You had messaged Yoon Jeonghan hesitantly yesterday, he wasn’t exactly the type to hold conversations with you on text. Some days, responses would be scarce and other days, they would come immediately. Yesterday had been one of those days in particular:

You: are you busy tomorrow?

Yoon: i think i’m free, angel

Yoon: mmm it’s valentine’s, do you want to meet up?

You: if you want to

Yoon: of course i do. do you?

You: i do

Yoon: meet you at 6

It was 6:23. Perhaps it was stupid to assume that you both would meet up for anything other than the usual– sex with zero romantic ties, no intent of love with little room for consideration of anything beyond a companionship. There was something different in the air though, whether that be Jeonghan’s open softness towards you or the Valentine's day spirit. Either way you knew if you kept letting the lingering hue of crimson remain on your cheeks, or flush throughout every part of you when he was around, you weren’t going to last.

You met him your sophomore year of college. Not one to be easily convinced, your friend Soonyoung had been adamant in taking you to one of those awful frat parties that reeked with hooch and rancid booze. Out of complete boredom and honestly annoyance, you had agreed to his suggestion, and to your shock it had been the exact opposite experience.

The party was small. Not much room to do a fucking keg-stand, but enough to know that the sole intention of it was getting laid. The drinks in general didn’t seem as cheap as you had initially expected when walking in. The event Soonyoung had taken you to was obviously of higher class and it worried you that he forgot to leave that bit out for you– because now you felt extremely small and underdressed compared to everyone else.

Half of the night you couldn’t recall, not only was it far from the expected loud and sweaty stereotype that frat parties held for themselves, but it was just boring. 

Boring until you realized on your way out you bumped into a near stranger, colliding into them. An amazing misfortune for you, since the wine glass he had appeared to be holding in his hand was shattered onto the floor after the fluids splashed directly onto your torso. Any shriek you could have let out was immediately muffled by the feeling of a palm covering your mouth. 

“Fuck, I am so sorry about that,” he mumbled with a groan, clearly trying to evade the attention away from you both, and thanks to the apparent conceitedness the guests at this party had, heads turned away from you both after a few moments. His hand dropped to his side, he seethed at the mess he made. You’re not even given a chance to look at whoever this man was as he was dragging you elsewhere, “would hate for you to step on that glass.”

You couldn’t lie to yourself and say you didn’t know who this man was just by looking at the back of his blonde head. He was all the talk around campus, infamous Yoon Jeonghan and his habit of flirting with everyone and practically their mothers. Hell, the way he took your hand in his told you exactly what you needed to know about him: you had to tread lightly. (Not lightly enough, you noted, the wine on your shirt was still very much there).

And with that you were immediately taken into the bathroom, Jeonghan disregarded the line that was outside the door and went inside when it was vacant, shutting the door behind you. Sighing and observing your stained shirt, he tsked in disapproval, “you’ve got wine all over you, sweetheart.”

Your eyes narrowed, “your wine.”

He hummed and shrugged, “if that makes you feel better.”

Sighing exasperatedly, you watched him grab a washcloth in his cupboards, “it’s fine. Don’t bother. I can go home and wash up.”

While you were wondering what on earth was so amusing to this guy, he hummed again, turning to face you, “but while we’re here at my house, can’t we get the job done quicker?”

“I’m just saying you don’t have to. It’s fine, I’ll be fine.”

“You know I would hate for such a pretty girl to show up at my party just to leave after I made a complete mess all over her,” he stepped forward, inching closer to you, “and although the red looks perfect on you, you don’t seem very pleased with it– or me, for that matter.”

That was the flirtatious manner everyone had been buzzing about. If you didn’t know any better you may have thought there was a bolder, ulterior motive within his words. You didn’t let yourself believe him.

When Jeonghan earned a glare from you, he chuckled in surprise, “you don’t believe me.”

With a shake of your head, he flashed you a satirical grin at your answer: “I don’t think I should.”

Jeonghan takes the now dampened washcloth in his hand, taking a moment to drink you in before he figures he should wipe off the drying mahogany that stuck onto your skin. It did make you look good, “will you please let me at least do this? If I don’t, it’ll remain in my guilty conscience forever.”

You sighed and gave him permission, you hadn’t really given yourself an option because how were you supposed to go home without Soonyoung, anyway? He smiled and reached out to cup your cheek, the other hand wiping your neck with the washcloth for some reason, agonizingly slow.

“I wasn’t lying by the way,” he mumbled, “I’ve had eyes on you the entire night, you’re one of Soonyoung’s friends, right?”

You ignored his initial comments, “yeah.”

“Should scold him for hiding you from me later.”

“Hiding me?” You asked, confused. 

“I’ve never seen you around. Soonyoung surely would've mentioned having such a gem of a friend. Are you two dating?”

You shook your head, “I tend to avoid you.”

He clicked his tongue in disdain, “you know me?”

When you nodded, he clicked his tongue again, “I assure you that you don’t. Whatever you’ve heard about me doesn't equate to familiarity, angel. But you could know me. You should.”

You don't respond, trying to turn your attention away from the feeling of the warm washcloth dragging across your skin, “what’s your name so I can call you by it, pretty?”

“Y/n,” it didn’t matter whether or not you told him, something about him said that he’d find out either way.

“Well, Y/n. If you’d like I can wash your clothes for you and give you some of mine to wear, then you’ll be on your way home. I’m sorry about this, again.”

You were beginning to deep yourself in a hole, what was the harm of indulging in it? This man had come into contact with your skin faster than anyone has and maybe he was just captivating and sweet, but you were yet to learn about him. The way he happened to be the most gorgeous man you’ve laid your eyes upon was also a harmful position you would eventually put yourself into. 

And even though Jeonghan knew he was just being kind, a part of him also knew that he wasn't one to usually do this, and the tipsy state he was put in had drawn him into you. Though you had just been standing for the majority of the party, he thought you were captivating, so beautiful and something new he just needed. He hadn't meant to fuck up his plans by somehow spilling wine all over you, but he liked to think that tonight was going to work in his favor.

“Okay,” you accepted his offer. Jeonghan could feel his lips pull into a smile and his heart rate intensify as he took you out of his bathroom, into his room.

Pulling out a random t-shirt for you to wear, he tossed it to you, “change into this and I’ll wash your outfit. You’re free to wait in here for now.”

And so you did.

That was the first ever time you spent in Jeonghan’s ever-familiar room, and somehow you both knew it wouldn't be the last. It didn't take long for him to take further interest in you. Red-flushed skin to skin contact that turned into something more, Jeonghan had found you to be all kinds of things: alluring, gorgeous, perfect, and sometimes he could argue that you were made for him. The way he kissed down your exposed back in such adoration and the way he coaxed you into giving into him every single time. It was enthralling and somehow he couldn't get enough of you.

Though, you could retort that it wasn't the case that way with Jeonghan. Sure he had put care into you after completely taking your ability to walk, but it was nothing short of superficial to you. You knew after each time he took you, he would go back to pretending you didn't exist, and it was a cycle you hadn’t been bothered with until now.

You: do you want to study with me in the library tonight?

Yoon: i was busy. sorry 

That was his usual excuse. He was busy. You weren’t sure if he was fooling around with other women, while you yourself, well your only action was Jeonghan and it didn’t help that you felt yourself begin to harbor feelings for him. It made you feel uneasy and unsure in your situation with him.

After an outing with Soonyoung however, his bad habit of gossiping slipped on him, “it’s really funny. Whenever we’re all hanging out at Jeonghan’s, you know, the guys, he’s always leaving his room to join us after like 10 minutes.”

You made a sound of confusion, obviously bewildered as to why he was telling you this, “okay?”

Soonyoung grunts after sipping out of his straw, maybe you weren’t aware that everyone was aware, “his hair is all messy and he’s out of breath and he's red, Y/n. You’re always in there, huh?”

You felt yourself choke on your drink, he was right. You lost count of how many times Jeonghan had just finished with you, inside you, cleaning up his mess and kissing your bare shoulder sweetly before you drifted off to sleep in his bed. Now that you were aware his entire group knew– despite the fact that he would usually spend time avoiding you– made you feel embarrassed, “I’d rather we not discuss my… sex life, Soonie.”

“I think Jeonghan likes you, though. Everytime we ask him about you he’s all flustered and tries avoiding the question,” he shrugged, to which you only groaned.

“That’s because we have nothing to do with each other outside of that room. Or at least, that’s what he thinks.”

“I think you’re a liar, because he hasn’t been like this with anyone ever since his ex,” Soonyoung hums, pondering, “I don’t know, though. Sorry if I overstepped.”

Part of you wanted to press him for details, another told you just to leave it in complete ignorance. You chose the latter, but you wanted to ask: “been like what?” There was nothing between you both but an undiscussed trust you held for each other.

Nothing between you both. But you couldn’t deny the obvious tension between you and Jeonghan when his stare lingered on you longer in the halls between breaks, or how you knew he felt something when you were giving everyone attention but him at his stupid parties, and how you knew he wasn’t going to do anything about it. It had been a year of this. You were a pulling force and Jeonghan no longer knew how much he could take if you weren’t his, but something inside him felt it wasn’t right.

It’s not like you hadn't tried branching out, and Jeonghan didn't seem to mind when you did (which bothered you more than words could describe).  

But there was an underlying problem– each man that had tried to pursue you was a terrible choice. They were awful in terms of personality, lacked any sense of self-awareness, and most recently, they couldn't measure up to Jeonghan. If you were going to do this you needed to stop thinking about him.

You were walking back to your house one night, coming back from a date which went the usual direction: with a boring, assholish man who made you pay for the meal once again. It didn't piss you off this time, you wouldn't let it. You were tired and ready to give up.

As the buzz sets off on your phone, you couldn’t help a grimace at who could possibly be texting you that late at night. However, there could only be one possibility.

Yoon: are you free?

Yoon: i know it’s late but i miss you 

You: jeonghan

Yoon: angel

You: i just got back from a date

Yoon: oh

Yoon: bad time?

You: no

You: can you come?

Yoon: i’m on my way 

The familiar knock on your door came minutes later, you swung it open and Jeonghan was taken aback by your appearance. You were dressed gorgeously in a blood-colored dress, tears ran down your face and Jeonghan felt himself surge inside, closing the door behind him and taking your cheeks in his hands.

“What’s wrong, Y/n? Did something happen?” Jeonghan asked you worriedly in a panic.

You sniffled, exhaling exasperatedly, both hands reaching up to take his wrists and peel his hold off of you. You knew what was wrong, “I’m just not cut out for anyone, I guess,” you turned to face away from his gaze, “no one.”

Jeonghan pressed his lips into a tight line, “you know that isn't true.”

It didn't occur to you that Jeonghan didn't care who you dated, you knew once you were unavailable he would eventually become a complete stranger, “what do I know?”

“Look at me,” he prompted firmly, and you complied sharply, “I don’t know what those poor excuses of men are doing with you but they don't know how to treat you at all.”

You watch him inch towards you, his hands finding purchase onto your cheeks again, kissing where a wet tear had just slid down, “I’m trying to be okay with you going out with people that obviously don't deserve you, but it’s really hard especially when they make tears run down your pretty face like this.”

“Baby?” He whispered against your lips, you wanted his on yours, “do me a favor?”

“Hm?”

“Eyes on me tonight,” he grunted, “don’t think about anyone else but me. Please?”

“Okay,” you croaked, finally feeling his lips on yours, not before he pulled away, groaning incoherent mumbles as his hands traveled down your figure, fingers gliding among your dress as they hiked up the bottom of them.

“They don’t deserve you, this,” he hummed, “I’ll make you forget they even exist.”

There was a distinct blur between where it was appropriate for the both of you to just be friends with benefits and more. 

Throughout the next few weeks, there was an obvious shift in your relationship with him. 

He no longer let his stare falter from you in the halls, his lips curved into a tempting smile as you passed by. Whenever you met up with him, he was greeted with your arms wrapped around his as his body pressed against yours warmly. You could feel his lips on your head, whispering “I missed you,” into your hair before a kiss, which vibrated throughout you.

It was a real shame that you knew that you could never be his, and he could never be yours, even when the lines in your relationship with him have blurred into complete dissipation.

Even when you could've sworn you could hear him whisper the words I love you, tickling your wine-sucked covered neck as his chest was pressed flush against your back & you could feel it rise and fall intensely.

Jeonghan wasn't one for commitment, and you knew that, but you were already so far. It was truly a shame how you let yourself fall for him when you knew.

6:35, the sun would’ve been gone, maybe if you let go of the hope you held for all of this. The hope you latched onto that you could be something more today. The hearts, the red and pink decorations and the occasional couples passing by on the street of the bench where you sat. It was all in vain. You could admire, but never be the one admired from the sole being you wanted it the most from. Even if he had given you room to hope.

About ready to accept defeat and break it all off, a low voice came from directly behind you.

“I’m sorry I made you wait so long, angel.”

Your head snaps in the direction of the familiar voice, your eyebrows scrunched at the sudden presence of Jeonghan, when you were sure tonight was going to be another night of him cancelling out of the blue. 

He didn't give you much time to bask in every part of him, the way your eyes flickered to his serious expression to his very new hair– maroon, a dark difference from the blonde he would sport on his long locks. And finally, when he straightened, a giant bouquet filled with scattered red carnations wrapped  in the most luxurious tissue paper tied in a golden bow was held in his hands. His breath was labored and his chest continued to rise and fall as he looked at every part of you.

You felt confused, angry, and relieved all at once. All you wanted were answers.

“You’re late. You’re so late, Jeonghan, where were you?” You felt your voice break as you stood to face him behind the bench.

He looked at the flowers and then at you, “I swear I left the house early, quarter before six, promise Y/n. But I saw the flower parlor a few blocks down selling this gorgeous bouquet and the way they reminded me of you told me it was almost criminal not to get them. I didn't think it would take nearly an hour to wait in line, I’m sorry, baby.”

Your heart dropped, “you waited an hour to get these for me? Why didn't you text?”

“I didn't bring my phone, I was already halfway in line and I wanted it to be a surprise,” you watched him walk around the bench to stop in front of you, “I’m sorry you waited for me for this long, this is important to me, Y/n.”

“I…” You trailed off, not knowing what to say, your eyes traveled back and forth between the flowers, his incredibly handsome suit and his hair which matched effortlessly, “I don't understand anymore.”

He practically deflated at your words, “understand what, angel?”

“This, us,” you exhaled wobbly and let a hand run through your hair before letting it drop to your sides, “what we are. I don't get it, you pretend I don't exist for days and then treat me like I’m everything and more to you. Is it that hard just to choose one instead of leaving me to hang and dry like this?”

His expression softened as you continued, “you’re so confusing, Jeonghan, how do you want me so I can stop getting my hopes up–”

“I love you.”

“W-what?”

“I want to be your boyfriend, Y/n. I’ve wanted you since the day I laid my eyes on you, God, I love you and I’m sorry it’s taken me this long to say it.”

You felt an all-familiar profound feeling in your chest, the ones you would feel when staring at him when he fell asleep on your table, insisting he’d watch you study. Or when you felt him pepper his kisses when he thought you’d be sleeping, or just seeing him direct his alluring smile to you, “are you… sure?”

He sighed, “I’ve been so sure it’s terrifying, but not about how you felt. I wasn't sure if you want me the same way I want you, so I figured the feelings would disappear naturally,” Jeonghan set the beautiful bouquet of carnations on the bench before reaching for your hands, “I don't want to be anyone else’s but yours. You’re the only thing in my life that’s going well, and I didn't want to lose that. I’m so sorry.”

You shook your head, wriggling your hands out of his grip and Jeonghan’s heart dropped as he was sure that he had lost you now, until he felt them cup his cheeks warmly, “I want to be with you Jeonghan. No more disappearing, no more leaving, if you mean it, can you do that?”

He nods rapidly and eagerly, “I don't ever want to. I promise.”

Feeling a smile creep onto your face, you pressed a kiss on his lips, full of love and sincerity. You felt his own form of a smirk before pulling away, “so, am I…?”

“Yes, Jeonghan, you’re my boyfriend,” you rolled your eyes at him, playfully hitting his chest, “and for the record, I love you too.”

With a giggle he takes the bouquet and hands it to you, in which you gladly take. You gesture to his hair and his eyebrows rose up in realization, “oh yeah, do you like it?”

Cradling the carnations in one hand, he took your free hand, swinging it happily as you nodded, “why red?”

He shrugged, “it reminded me of you. It makes me look sexy, doesn't it?”

You sighed and jokingly nudged him, in which he feigned injury, “it does. So, where do you suppose we go?”

His footsteps mirrored yours, “I made reservations for that one fancy restaurant down the block,” he hummed, “it’s at 7, so we have just enough time to walk there now.”

“At seven? What were we supposed to do for an hour, Jeonghan?” 

His hand gripped yours tighter, and there was no mistaking what his quiet chuckle implied.

“Jeonghan.”

He chuckled again before stopping to face you. He ran a hand down your arm, “we can do that later, there’s a lot I want to do. But right now, I just want to be with you.”

He leans in to place a kiss on your cheek, “and before I get a chance to say it and rip this dress off of you later, you look absolutely beautiful.”

Your cheeks burned off a dark cherry afterwards, just before he began to walk with you again.

“Happy Valentine’s Day, Jeonghan,” you murmur sheepishly.

He hummed, turning his head to pull you in for another kiss on the cheek, “happy Valentine’s, my Y/n.”

THE MIRROR-BLUE NIGHT; ACT I

―PAIRING: joshua hong x fem!reader ―GENRE: SLOW burn, affair au, suggestive, angst, romance ―CHAPTER WORD COUNT: 11.2k ―CHAPTER WARNINGS: mild language, very minimal josh in this chapter (sorry), death mentions, cheating, lots of introspection ―STATUS: ongoing

―AUTHOR'S NOTE: this is act i to my entry for svthub's world tour collab. it's heavily inspired by wong kar wai's film 'in the mood for love', and it's been fun to play around with a totally different atmosphere and setting, and i hope everyone that reads this enjoys it! if you do, please consider reblogging with your thoughts and comments i would love to hear them. hopefully before long i will have the following two acts out for you to continue <3

ACT I

. . .

It’s raining. You hear the patter of droplets as they fall against your windows, a symphony of sorrows cascading from gray skies. When you were a child your mother used to tell you that the rain meant the heavens were crying. That some angel high above was weeping for the sorrow of those below–for the tragedy of humankind. She made up a lot of lies when you were young, stories to either make you feel better or to just force you to stop asking her questions while she was trying to watch her favourite shows. 

It never worked, and you never believed her. 

It was raining, too,  on the day that you cremated her. A near torrential downpour that had washed out the roads on your way to the funeral home and caused a four car pile up on the on ramp. You made it, breathless and haggard, just in time to drip your way through the procession to the front of the church pews where you sat, cloaked in the black of mourning, to watch a small line of people espouse pretty stories and prettier lies about the woman who raised you. 

Were you sad about her death? Of course you were. Death was always sad, in some deeply philosophical and uniquely human way. The ending of all things–life moving onwards to something better (or worse). Leaving everyone else behind to deal with the sorrow and suffering and debt. You could feel her death around you everywhere you went. The last breath of her life sighing over you on windy streets, the final whisper of her words in the chattering of birds in the morning dew. She was omnipresent. Oppressive. Somehow even more than she had been when she was alive. A heavy shroud over your every move. 

You were sad about her death, but you did not feel the pang of it in your heart as you might have if she had been anyone else. Instead it was abstract–elusive. A fleeting thought that followed you throughout the day. A thought that you were sure would dissipate over time. Molecule by molecule as her soul moved on from this world it would dissolve and you would finally be left standing in a life of your own making, no longer bent to the will of the woman who molded you to fit neatly into her own life. Her death was sad but it also finally opened you up the hope for freedom. 

When it was your turn to speak, after the mass had ended and the few other speakers had said their peace with your mother overseeing from inside her casket, you hesitated. Standing in front of the crowd of people that had managed to crawl their way through traffic for the promise of a free lunch and a voyeuristic look at the poor, bereft daughter left to deal with this whole mess. The only remaining relative of this woman that had made everyone’s life around her a living hell. You stared out at their faces, blank with waiting, and expected the words you had prepared to come out as you had rehearsed. None ever did. You stood silent under the scrutiny of a hundred eyes and seconds ticked by into minutes as the blank expressions morphed into confusion or pity. Even your husband’s carefully neutral expression devolved into one of concern as he stared up at you from his seat. 

Thunder clapped outside the church, the rain picked up speed, buffeting the stained glass windows in its fury, and you thought that maybe your mother hadn’t been lying to you when you were a child. Maybe it was her fury that was clinging to your clothing–soaking you to the bone. 

You left the altar without a word–just one apologetic glance cast over the audience of mourners–and sat back down next to your husband. Head held high against the brewing storm. You realised finally that you had nothing to say. 

For your husband’s part, he played it well at the time. His silent hand found yours and gripped it tight as you both kept your gazes focused on the priest as he tried his best to stitch the proceedings back together after the abandoned eulogy. He kept your hand in his throughout the rest of the funeral–from the end of the mass, through the reception, and all the way to the committal he was there with you. The anchor at your side. 

When had he stopped? 

When had he stopped being there–holding your hand, playing his part as your partner through it all on this grand stage of life. When had he decided he no longer wanted to be that? 

You watch a rivulet of rain carve a line through the reflection of your face, splitting you in two as you stare out through the window in your living room and into the neon darkness of the city surrounding you. Who were the heavens sad for tonight? 

For your own part, you couldn’t bring yourself to feel much sadness. Only a hollow aching at the pit of your stomach, like a hunger long ignored. Gnawing at your insides as you stare out into some unfixed point on the horizon and wait for your husband to return home. Late, again. Always late these days. Always some excuse or another. Traffic, work, friends wanting to grab drinks, errands to run. Tonight though, perhaps, the excuse would be the rain. 

With a sigh you abandon your post at the window, floating through the apartment by the dim light of the city pouring inside. No reason to turn the lights on inside–you knew your way around. The remnants of your dinner sit undisturbed on the kitchen counter, steam long since evaporated, as they wait for a mouth to enter, a stomach to fill. You had lost your appetite when you received the text message. 

You knew it was coming, had known for months. At first it was easy to trick yourself into believing that nothing had changed at all. Everything was normal. These excuses were all truths and you were in fact in the wrong for not believing your husband when he told you. After a time this denial stopped working, however, and you moved on to believing that the changes were only superficial–temporary–that the fissure that had opened up in your marriage was not a yawning pit preparing to engulf you but an easily repairable crack in the foundation. Before long he would return to you as a ship to the shore. He would pour out his feelings and you would mend them easily, with tears of your own. Your relationship would grow in strength for enduring this storm and all would be well again. 

As the days and months dragged on, though, it grew harder to ignore the signs. You had seen them so many times before–on television, in film, in friends’ relationships, in your own parents’ marriage before it fell apart when you were 9. 

A whiff of an unfamiliar perfume in the air, breezing behind your husband as he enters the apartment after work–orange blossom, ginger, patchouli and jasmine. Cloying and heady. A scent of seduction and sex in the wake of a man that hadn’t touched you in days. He waited to kiss you hello now, waited until he had changed out of his clothes, maybe until after he had a shower. You would sit, perched on the arm of the couch, and stare out the window of your living room while he scrubbed the scent of another woman off of his skin. 

More evidence collected over the next few months. Pastel purple and blue splotches dotting the nape of his neck–just above the birthmark you used to trace over with a loving fingertip in the early days of your marriage. Lipstick stains faded on the white collar of a shirt–brick red, a shade that never painted your own lips. He was getting careless–bold. And you continued to observe without a word. Maintaining the calm on the surface of your life, letting the stains and perfume to sink deep underneath. 

Maybe you should have confronted him early on, when the days were still young and you still had lingering affection for this man that was becoming a stranger to you. You should have yelled, screamed, fought, let your tears flow freely in a torrent of anger and betrayal. Every rational thought in your mind was screaming out for you to face him down and do something. You would work yourself into a fury of anger and anxiety waiting for him to come home but the second he stepped across the threshold of your apartment, all of it dissolved. Melted away into nothingness and left only that old, hollow ache until that was all you had left inside.

You remember how your mother had reacted when she found out about your dad’s affair. The consequences were swift and brutal–a storm of emotions and rage bursting out and swallowing everyone in its vicinity. If rain was sadness, surely her rage had been a tsunami. Your dad left and you retreated–into your room, into yourself. Left alone to rebuild in the wake of this natural disaster. 

When you got married your mother warned you–warned you of your duties as a wife. To keep him happy, keep him home, and remember that marriage is work. Life was so hard after your father abandoned us, she would say, don’t let the same happen to you. She would sermonize his weakness and cruelty, and you would listen. But you loved your father, in spite of all his flaws and humanity. He was kind and soft-hearted and you never blamed him for what happened, how could it all have been his fault? This one man that bought you ice cream and tanghulu and took you shopping for school uniforms up until he died? No. You blamed your mother.

What would she say to you now, sitting alone in the dark staring at a photo of your husband with his arm slung casually over the shoulders of another woman, her head resting against him with a soft smile on her face. Pathetic, spineless child. 

You shrug off the ghost of your mother and focus back on the picture. They were in a restaurant, tucked into a corner booth. The low lighting cast soft shadows over their faces, obscuring the details of their features, but there was no doubt in your mind that  it was him.  It was the same slope of brow and cheek that you have run your fingers over so many times before. The same slight upturn in the corners of the mouth that you fell in love with. The glimmer of mischief and daring that so easily drew you in when you first started dating, now turned towards someone else. A stranger? You were sure you didn’t know her but there was something familiar about her in the photo, something about her profile that tugged at the recesses of your recollection. 

Your imagination has been running frantic circles in your mind since you opened the message. Where had he met her? Work? He wasn’t a part of any clubs, didn’t play mahjong on the weekends with friends, hadn’t been selected for any work trips where he might have brushed elbows with her in a conference. Might have snuck into each other's hotel rooms, followed each other onto the plane. She could have been a stewardess–as alluring as they are professional. An untouchable creature bending to your every whim and all you can do is look and hope and wish. Slip her your number as you disembark, pray she deems you worthy enough to contact. 

But he hadn’t been out of the city in at least a year. So that couldn’t be it. 

Maybe she had a more humble occupation. She worked at the hot pot restaurant his company frequented after work. That was how you had met so is it so out of the realm of possibilities that lightning might strike twice? 

Maybe he had always known her. Maybe you were the other woman–some twist of fate had led him to marrying you instead of his highschool sweetheart. A girl that had occupied his mind for longer than you had known him. Maybe she had traveled after graduation–moved to the US and taken his heart with her while he pined away and finally, losing all hope, he settled for the strange girl with the zealot of a mother. Turned you into a project to fill his loneliness and occupy his thoughts until she returned and he was reminded of all the things that she had been for him that you never could. 

Maybe. 

Or maybe she was just a whore. 

Your thoughts flitter back and forth; all possibilities confronting you at once, neon red  in alarm. You watch taxis and motorbikes speed through traffic on the rain soaked street 15 stories below your apartment–each one weaving a new thread of anxiety in your mind as you wait for one to stop in front of your building. Wait for your husband to emerge, shielding himself from the rain and rushing to get inside before his white-collared shirt is soaked through with the sins of his flesh. 

He arrives shortly after you give up waiting and prepare for bed. The rain has begun to let up and with it he steps through the front door of your apartment while you sit perched on the edge of your bed, running a hand over the embroidered silk duvet coverlet you had received as a wedding present. You listen as he drops his keys, briefcase, coat onto the kitchen counter. Focus on the sound of his footfall as he  walks through the short hallway to the bathroom. He doesn’t see you sitting in the dark, doesn’t seek you out to greet you. You watch as he flicks the light on to the bathroom and shuts the door behind him. The sound of the shower running follows a few moments afterwards. 

You brace yourself when he enters the dark bedroom after washing himself free of the day. Body tense as he slips under the blanket beside you. The anticipation of something, anything, stiffens in your muscles and you wait for him to say something, to give you some explanation for his whereabouts. Nothing comes. He, believing you to be asleep, slips too into the arms of the night and you’re left alone–staring blankly into the dark of the room before you give into the heaviness of your eyes. 

Morning dawns, grey and overcast. You’re alone again, your husband having left for work with the tin of leftovers you had pre-packed for him, and the day stretches out in front of you–long and lonely–as you shove all thoughts of last night to the back of your mind and turn your attention to the household tasks that require it. 

The fluorescent lights of the supermarket buzz overhead as you make your way through the aisles with a basket hanging on your arm. You know what you’re getting–you’ve rotated through the same small selection of meals since you were 11 years old and started cooking for yourself–but you take your time anyway. Wandering through the rows of produce, fish, and imported goods. Enjoying the distant company of strangers, their idle chatter and routine conversations are a welcome reprieve from the oppressive silence that has dominated your apartment over the past few months. 

You drift to the fruits, letting their bright colours draw you in, and reach for a melon. It’s heavy in the hand, weighed down with the density of the flesh inside. It would be delicious–perfectly ripe, bursting with flavour and juice–you could almost salivate at the thought of slicing into it, bringing a cube of its sweetness to the tip of your tongue. You haven’t had it in ages. Your husband was not fond of fruits–he never had been. Always preferred spice and heat over sweetness, and you were more than happy to accommodate–to oblige his tastes and sacrifice your own for the sake of love. But now? 

The melon stares up at you in askance and you set it back on the stand with its brethren before you can give the temptation a second thought. As soon as you do, a hand reaches out to grab it, neatly manicured fingers wrapping around the fruit still warm from your touch. You smell her perfume before you see her face–that aroma of orange blossom, patchouli,  and jasmine (with a hint of ginger) cutting through the air of the supermarket like a knife through fruit. It’s even more overwhelming first hand. You turn your head, catching a glimpse of her face, her bright red lips, before she turns away and clacks towards the green wall of vegetables. 

You follow transfixed behind her as she weaves her way through the market, picking up an array of items as she goes. Mindlessly you fill your basket behind her, hands reaching out for whatever as you try to disguise your objective. You had only seen one blurry photo of her, clandestinely snapped with her head buried in the crook of your husband’s arm, but you would know her anywhere. In fact you did know her. Not by name, you had never been introduced, but you recognize her instantly now in the bright noonday lights of the shop. 

She lives in your building, a few floors up, you were sure of it. You had run into her in the elevator a few times, never exchanging a word, but always evaluating each other with that cold calculation of strangers destined to become rivals. Not that you knew that at the time. She had a husband. A man with kind eyes and a kind smile. You weren’t sure if it made you feel better or worse to know that you weren't alone in your suffering, that someone else was tied to the other end of this red string that entangled the four of you in its noose-tight vice. 

Does she recognize me? you wonder as you get in line a few people behind her at the register. Your eyes remain fixed on the back of her head while she pays and you tap your foot in anxious impatience as her form disappears through the doors and you’re left waiting for the elderly woman in front of you to deal out her entire coin purse to the cashier for spring onions and flour.

Finally you step out into the streets, bag of assorted groceries clutched tight in your fist, and you whip your head around to try to locate her. It doesn’t take long–she’s a flash of red in a sea of black–and you hasten your stride to catch up with her as she rounds the corner towards your apartment building, taking care to maintain a neutral expression. You trail her over the few blocks it takes to get back home, pulse quickening whenever her step halts–paralysed with the fear that she may turn around and realise what you’re doing. 

Does she  know who you are? Aa a neighbour, maybe, but as the wife of the man she’s having an affair with? Has he told her about you, have they shared jokes in confidence at your expense? Or are you some shameful secret he has kept hidden in his coat pocket. Maybe he slips his wedding band off before each meeting, spinning it around his finger thrice before tucking it out of sight, alongside his conscience. Does he know about her husband? Does her husband know about him the way you know about her? Were the same thoughts turning over in his mind as he sat at his desk at work, staring idly at their wedding photo? 

You follow her, a few paces behind, through the lobby of your shared building. Part of you–a bold, reckless part–wants to slip into the elevator with her, just before the doors can slide closed. Meet her face to face. Confront her and lay bare your knowledge of her discretion. Maybe she would cry, maybe she would yell, maybe she would laugh. Not one of the scenarios you envision ends with you triumphant, in each one your husband’s arms reach forth to comfort her and leave you standing alone, consumed with the red hot fires of rage and seething hate. 

You push that part of you away, back into the shadows, and watch as  she gets into the elevator. The numbers on the display above the doors climb higher and higher as she ascends and you hold your breath, waiting for them to halt. 22. Higher up than your own, more expensive. So it wasn’t money that had drawn her to your husband. You jam your finger against the button, calling the lift back down and wrestling between going home with this new knowledge or feeding into your curiosity and following her up to her door. Would you know the right one if you saw it? 

You press both floor numbers when you finally climb into the elevator, staring at the illuminated buttons as you slowly ascend. You stand still, staring at number 22, and wait as you move up and up–torn between the two options you’ve given to yourself. The doors finally slide open to reveal your floor, 15, and you stare out into the empty hallway, waiting for some unseen force to push you out of the lift. To make up your mind for you. Nothing does, and you just stand silent and still, frozen in time until they slide closed once more and you’re left looking blankly at your own twisted expression in the stainless steel. You keep eye contact with the twisted version of yourself reflected back at you and wait as the elevator continues its ascent. 

What were you hoping to gain from following this woman? Confirmation that she is, indeed, real? As if the brush of her arm against yours as she stretched out for your relinquished fruit hadn’t been enough to convince you. Her head bobbing through the crowds of people on the street as you kept pace behind her was just a figment of your imagination. Did you think you would find him there? Waiting for her? Eating slices of fruit from her outstretched hands in an act of worship? Your reflection purses her lips, eyebrows knit in thought, and you shake your head at her in askance, a silent plea, before the elevator finally stops at floor 22. 

The door slides open for the second time and you brace yourself to alight, but your path is blocked. 

“Oh, sorry,” he says, stepping aside to give you space to pass, “are you getting off here?” 

You freeze on the spot, standing on the threshold of a million converging thoughts as they crash through your mind. His smile is the same as you remember it, soft and kind. The smile of someone for whom life was easy, someone who hadn’t seen much strife. Or perhaps the opposite . Someone who had seen all the horrors life had to offer him and chose to remain soft despite them. You’re distantly aware that you look like a fool, standing there in the elevator with your mouth hanging slightly agape as you stare into the eyes of your husband’s mistress’ husband, but you can’t make yourself move. Paralyzed by a strange twist of fate that had, unbeknownst to him, entangled you in a web of deceit and betrayal.

Surely he didn’t know. 

“Is this your floor,” he asks again, prompting you to move or speak or do something more than just stand still as the elevator beeps its final warning. It wasn’t going to wait much longer. 

“N-no,” you stammer, trying to right your thoughts. “I was going down, actually.” In a panic you jam your finger against the button for floor 15. If he notices the obvious lie, he doesn’t say anything–instead politely skirting around you as he steps into the lift and presses the button for the ground floor.

The lift jerks as it starts to descend, and you hold your breath. Afraid that any movement might somehow reveal every thought you’re holding tight within. He keeps a polite distance, checking his phone as he stands in the opposite corner of the narrow, enclosed space. The elevator inches closer to your floor and your muscles tense in preparation to bolt through the door as soon as it slides open at floor 15. You stare up at the numbers as they transform–20, 19, 18. Eyes transfixed on the digital display as your brain whirrs with static noise. 

“We’ve met before, haven’t we?” You jerk your attention towards him as soon as he speaks, head spinning too fast to pass off your expression as casual and you’re sure that you look as panicked as you feel. “When we first moved into the building, I mean. It’s been a while but I recognize you.” 

You nod and take a second to clear your throat of the built up nerves before replying, voice trembling with a light quiver. “Yes, I uh–it’s been over a year now I think. I’m sorry but I don’t remember your name.”

He smiles–that same soft, kind smile as earlier–and shakes his head reassuringly. “It’s Joshua. Hong.” 

“Joshua?” your voice betrays a hint of curiosity–it’s not a common name here. 

“I moved here from LA years ago with my wife,” he supplies the answer to your unspoken question. Unwittingly adding a layer of intrigue to his personage that you hadn’t expected. At the mention of his wife, however, you feel the hairs on your arms rise to attention. A cold chill ripples through your body. The elevator dings, startling you out of your daze as it arrives at your floor. You turn to face the hallway as it appears between the doors, lingering astride the threshold between him and the emptiness ahead of you. Something inside of you hesitates, hanging back to remain in his presence despite the anxiety still flooding through your body. Something about the way he spoke had drawn you in, a strange curiosity taking root in your mind. You shake it loose; it’s not your place to say anything, and it’s not your place to further entangle yourself in this web. His life is his own. You take a step forward, finally clearing the door just before it beeps its insistence at you. 

You turn to say a farewell to Joshua–it wouldn’t bode well to appear impolite after he was so courteous to you a moment before–but before you can open your mouth to speak, he beats you to it. 

 “I think she and your husband know each other, actually. My wife,” he says, and you freeze again, stuck now staring at him from the hallway. He waves goodbye as the doors slide closed and you’re left standing statuesque in the hallways alone. Ears ringing with the echoes of his words. 

Does he know? 

Nothing in the way he held himself, in the casual expression gracing his handsome, well composed features would have led you to believe so but…why else would he have said that? 

You stand still, staring at the scuffed stainless steel doors of the elevator as if they might reopen and he might still be there. That he might dull the sharpness of your anxieties with some clarity . Instead you’re alone, bag of groceries cutting the circulation in your fingertips off as they hang forgotten in your hand.

You try to search the memory of his face as it lingers in your mind’s eye for any clue–any miniscule hint–as to what thought had been hiding beneath his calm facade. His face twists and contorts in your mind, swirling and transforming as you try to keep hold of the static image. Joshua, your husband, his wife, your own warped expression in the polished metal of the door. Many parts of an ever colliding whole. 

When you finally manage to get your legs moving and step away from the elevator the hallway seems to stretch out in front of you endlessly. You walk as if to the gallows, imagining all the horrors waiting for you when you open the door to your apartment. Your husband, Joshua’s wife. Limbs entangled in carnal desire. The heat of their bodies steaming the windows and fogging your vision as you stumble through the darkness. The thought overwhelms you, slows your already stuttering pace, though you know in your logical mind that no one’s there. She’s in her own apartment, and your husband is at work, and you’re alone. A state you’ve become numbly accustomed to. 

The familiar silence of your apartment is all that greets you when you finally enter, in spite of the baseless worries of your frazzled mind. It soothes the storm of worries clouding your mind as you stow away your meager haul of groceries and set out the ingredients needed for dinner. Joshua’s face fades to darkness as you slip back into routine–letting your hands take over and your mind to narrow to a single thought. 

So what if he did know. Would that change anything about your present circumstances? If he wanted a scene he had the chance to cause one and let it go. He could have held you in that elevator and interrogated you for all your husband’s many sins; pouring his hurt and betrayal out at your feet as you bear witness to your own anguish reflected in another person. But he didn’t. Instead he was polite, almost kind, and you parted without the cosmic clash the worst parts of you might have anticipated.  

The water for the noodles starts to boil and you quickly finish chopping your small array of vegetables before turning the heat down to simmer and tossing them in. Leftover shrimp lay on the side of your cutting board, ready to add in at the end. It was a lazy meal–one you never would have made early on in your marriage–but who cared about that now? You knew it would be the same routine tonight. Eating without tasting, alone in the kitchen, lit only by the light filtering in through the windows, while you stare at the clock on the wall. He’ll show up after you’re finished–maybe 15 minutes later, maybe an hour–and eat the portion set aside for him while you disappear into the bedroom and will the day to come to an end. 

Would Joshua’s night end the same or were he and his wife better at maintaining the charade of marriage? Were their hearts as distant when they lay in bed next to each other, barely touching? 

You had a hard time imagining it. You try, between mouthfuls of noodles and broth, to capture the image of them. Joshua sidestepping his wife in the kitchen, carefully avoiding her touch–her skin stained by the kiss of another man. Was his smile as soft and kind when turned upon the face of the woman who, with every breath she took, dared to remind him of the sadness that lurked beneath the surface of their life? Was the love he still held for her enough to erode all of her transgressions, even as she continued to transgress? Did he still hold her in his arms at night like no one else had ever touched her? Like he was the only one for her? Why, if he could so easily absolve her of her crimes, could you not do the same for the man you had promised yourself to? 

You shake your head, ridding yourself of the scene that was playing out. You knew nothing about this man–about his life or his thoughts. This scene you had conjured up, fleshed out with his feelings and emotions, was just a projection of some possible life dwelling within you.

But still, you couldn’t help but wonder. How different would things be if you tried?

The night drags on as all the previous ones have. You sit in front of the window, letting the TV drone on in the background, and stare down at the street below. Watching as people come and go–each with their own thoughts, their own lives, their own worries and desires. None more or less important than your own. It was comforting, in some odd way, to imagine the lives and futures of others. It took the distinct sting out of imagining our own. 

The front door opens, earlier than expected, and you glance over your shoulder to see him enter. He nods in greeting and you return the gesture before acting on an impulse you haven’t followed through on in months. You move towards him. You don’t even realise you’re doing it until his form comes into focus only a few feet in front of you. He doesn’t notice you right away, too busy reheating the noodles; you wait and you watch as he moves through the task with a slight droop to his shoulders. He’s tired. 

“How was work today?” you ask. The question spills unbidden from your mouth but you don’t rush to stop it. 

“Long,” he sighs, stirring the food as it begins to steam in the pot. There’s no hint of surprise or shock in his voice at your sudden interest in his day. He accepts it–whether from sheer exhaustion or ignorance of the deafening silence that has defined your life for the past few months. Maybe he never noticed how distant you were. How could he when he still held someone so close? “How was your day?”

“Fine,” you reply, intending to leave it at that before a thought flashes through your mind. “I ran into one of our neighbours earlier, in the elevator. Joshua Hong. We met them once or twice when he and his wife moved in just over a year ago, do you remember them?” 

“I can’t say that I do,” he shakes his head, flicking the heat off on the stove. His back is still turned, so you focus on his tone, on the micromovements of his muscles under his shirt. Searching for anything other than the polite disinterest he was feigning. Anything that might betray some feeling brewing below the surface. Fear, love, guilt. Anything at all. 

“Hmm, yeah I couldn’t remember him well either at first,” you agree, pausing to allow him the space to settle in, to pour his dinner into a bowl and sit down at the counter. He leans forward, blowing the steam away as he prepares to take a bite. “He mentioned you though,” you say finally, watching his face as he glances up at you with his chopsticks suspended above his bowl. “He mentioned you know his wife.” 

Silence. One brief, fleeting moment of hesitation. A slight lift of the eyebrow. You watch his Adam’s apple bob at the base of his throat, just above the knot of his tie. 

“That’s odd,” he replies, voice carefully neutral, he drops his gaze from yours and brings his chopsticks the rest of the way to his mouth to slurp up the hanging noodles. You stay silent, watching–waiting–as he finishes his bite before he continues. “He must be mistaken.” 

“Must be,” you nod, trailing a finger lazily over the countertop. You don’t say anything else. You don’t need to. You let the silence settle in between you–an observer of its own, interrogating him with the absence of speech. You’ve had months to become accustomed to it, to make friends of the stillness of the air in your apartment, but you can see as your husband carefully avoids your lingering gaze that he hasn’t. He’s been too preoccupied to even notice it as it slowly moved in, taking over his place at your side. 

After a few moments you shrug, straightening your posture and smoothing down the front of your dress–releasing him of the heaviness of your gaze. The atmosphere settles back into one of easy stalemate and your husband resumes eating in silence. Nothing more is said. You slip back into blue.

 You never wanted a traditional wedding. 

With your father long buried and your mother under the spell of religious fervor, you never saw any appeal in the tradition or ceremony. You felt estranged from your scattered family–disconnected from the broader world. You floated in blissful independence, living life on your own terms and only reigning it in to pay fealty to your mother when required. Then you met him. 

He was handsome–dark hair and dark airs and expertly sculpted features. The sort of handsome that was easy to overlook at first but unraveled more and more as soon as you tugged at a loose thread of it. You looked at him across the lecture hall and took your time, dissecting his profile as the lectern’s voice melted out into the distance. It didn’t take long for your introduction to follow these looks. College is like that. Friends of friends of friends, dorm rooms, study hangouts in the library. Before you could even notice, your blissful independence had given way to comfortable partnership. 

After college, still in the early days of your courtship, you had grand ideas of elopement. The last lingering strands of your individuality. Traveling to a foreign country, marrying on a beach under the stars, and not telling your families until you either came back or decided you were going to live out your wedded bliss and future marriage in the streets of Rio de Janeiro or Sydney. 

He would entertain these fantasies–feeding into them, one morsel at a time, filling you with the hope of your aligned future. Filling you to the point that when the proposal inevitably came you couldn’t see the hunger still gnawing inside of you. 

Your husband was a good son, and his family paid for the wedding. It took little effort for you to resign yourself to ceremony and cast aside your dreams for love. The story of every fool in the world. 

That should have been the moment you knew that this would not last. Or at least that the happiness and contentment that shrouded your relationship was just that–mere illusory material. If you could turn back time, redo the last years of your life, you would have taken your meager inheritance from your father and booked a one way flight to the US. Used what little connections you had from distant family to build a life and chase your dreams. Live for yourself instead of the external expectations that you had been raised to abide by. You could have sent your mother back what little extra income you had–supported her from a distance as she ruined her own life where you did not have to bear witness. 

Instead, like the perfect picture of a good daughter, you went along with your husband and his family’s wishes. You let them arrange the entire thing and you–a mere passenger in your own life–silently went through the motions. Assured by word and by every soft kiss that all your dreams would be realised once it was all over. Your hands would reach the farthest destinations of your imagination, your feet would touch the sands of your desire. You let yourself be carried forward into this future with a smile, unaware that the only sand your feet would see would be the foundations of your own life as it crumbled and fell around you. 

You could only blame yourself. Even your mother tried to warn you, in her own way. Her own misery bearing down on your throughout your life–her inevitable cracking under the weight of everyone else's dreams bearing down on her until she simply couldn’t take it anymore. If you had been smart you would have seen it for what it was when you were 12. 

But you didn’t. You continued to simply go with it, smile waning as the years began to drag on and none of those golden promises spoken to you at night ever materialised. Business was good, now was not the time to take a break away it would only spell financial ruin for yourself and your entire family. Fine, you could wait. Were happy to wait, in fact. Dutiful and loyal and ever patient as you filled your days with the duties you had accepted in spite of yourself. Homemaking, cleaning, cooking. You had longed to work yourself, use your degree for something other than simply occupying space on your wall, then in a drawer–but no, your obligation was to the home, to your husband. Business was good. It was the right time to start trying for children. Did you want children? Did it matter? 

The flames of passion burned bright in your union early on. Your skin was on fire in the moonlight, bathed in sweat and dappled by the heated kisses of your new husband. Your body felt like a temple of worship, and he was there to pay his respects. He was the first man you had ever been with and you felt like you had won the jackpot each night as he brought you to new heights with his devotion. 

Maybe it’s true what people say about newlyweds. That passion is fleeting. The newness and excitement of having each other at the tips of your fingers would inevitably dull down until even sex simply became a part of your daily routine. A task to be completed, to stave off the questions of family and friends speculating on the growth of your family. Yours wasn’t meant to grow, though, it seemed. No matter how often you came together in pursuit of it, your monthly courses came as consistent as the full moon. Month after month until you stopped trying.

But there was love there, in the beginning. You think about it still, lying silent in the vast wilderness of your marital bed next to your sleeping husband. When you think to yourself  ‘how could I have let this happen’ your mind drifts back to those moments–wrapped up tightly in his embrace as he peppered your face, neck, shoulders, with kisses and promised you the world. How could you have known that it was built on such faulty foundations? That it would all drift away over time? 

You run a slow finger over your thigh, tracing the paths that he would take each night before. Remembering the love that you had shared. Wondering if the woman he shares it with now feels it as deeply as you had. Did he think of you when he was with her or had she eclipsed you completely in his memory? Was her back the only one that arched as he was deep inside her, spilling his love into her? 

The thought digs its barbed wires into your chest–ripping and tearing at what little tenderness you still held for the man. You let the pain sing you to sleep–weeping and burning for what once was and what might never be again as you let the darkness consume you in the dim blue of your bedroom. 

Dawn comes, as it always does, sunlight taking the place of the filtered neon of the city–streaming its way into your windows and nudging you awake long after your husband left for work. You’re alone again, and the thoughts don’t cease for the daytime. 

The flickering bulbs of the supermarket welcome you as you hunt around for a decent bunch of spring onions for dinner. Your hands find them and you add them to your basket, moving on to the next item on your list while your mind is half-occupied by the thought of the woman from yesterday. 

You wonder if she’ll make an appearance again. Standing behind you in line, perhaps, or waiting for you in the cold section–eyes scanning tanks of crabs for the perfect one. You wonder if she’ll be wearing red again. The contrast of the colour against her milky white skin as it hugs her body just so, conveying the image of someone with the world at her fingertips. 

Your own dress–emerald green, accented with black florals–suited you well enough. It was clean, well made, and fit you well even after all these years of wear, but it was just that. A dress. Function over form. It was the dress of someone who didn’t want to stand out, who wanted to blend into her surroundings and remain unnoticed as she moved throughout her day. It was the green in the shade of the bright red orchard as it shimmered in the sun.

As if summoned, a flash of red lights up your periphery–calling your attention away from the pear you had been inspecting. You lift your gaze to see her, a few stands down from you, a beacon of red just as you had envisioned her. You blink a few times to solidify her existence–not entirely convinced that you hadn’t just conjured her up out of smoke and mirrors. She remains, gathering a small selection of tomatoes before striding out of the produce section. 

The shock of her appearance from yesterday has long since faded. You’ve had time to reckon with the weight of her existence in your proximity. What was once a desperate, aching curiosity has since dulled to a cold, calculated interest. Instead of abandoning your grocery haul you stick to your list–taking the time to pick out the right ingredients–and achieve your own goals all while keeping her in your sights. You time your actions to match hers, moving on as she adds items to her basket, lingering by the teas as she stalls at the opposite end of the aisle from you. You make your way to the till, trailing her casually, and choose the cashier adjacent to her so you can pay at the same time. 

You leave the market assured with the knowledge of your mutual destination. No need to hurry, no need to chase, no need to match her pace. You let yourself fall into easy step a few feet behind her–content with enjoying the temperate weather that the day has brought. She arrives at the apartment a minute before you but you meet her in the lobby, standing silent beside her as you both wait for the elevator to descend. 

The anxieties of your trip yesterday melt away as you evaluate her through the steel mirror of the door–letting your gaze drift over her distorted figure. How long until she starts to notice your presence as more than mere coincidence? Would you be able to maintain this routine–living alongside her and watching from the peripherals as she goes about her daily tasks without so much as a second thought? 

As if in answer her eyes meet yours in the reflection. You politely avert your gaze, unwilling to be bested in this dance before it had even begun. Whether she was aware of who you are or not, you didn’t need to relinquish the satisfaction of knowing to her. 

The doors open at your floor and you alight into the hallway, leaving her to ascend the rest of the way to her own apartment where she would maintain her own charade. Your heart lurches at the thought, an odd disruption to the calm satisfaction you had been feeling up until now. You remember Joshua’s face from yesterday–the soft curve of his lips as he spoke to you. Polite, kind. You could blame yourself easily for your own husband’s infidelity but what had Joshua done to deserve this? 

Was he plagued with the same self loathing thoughts that haunted your every step? Or was his kindness, too, an illusion? Hiding some deeper malice that lurked at the heart of everyone wrapped up in this love affair.

You shake your head free of him as you enter your apartment and set your groceries down on your kitchen counter, but he returns as swiftly as he leaves. A thought circling round and round–unable or unwilling to give you a moment's peace as you unpack your bags. 

Somewhere in life you had adopted this sense of pessimism about life and the people that walked through it. It was easy to imagine cruelty at the hearts of everyone–to picture the worst case scenario, the worst intentions. But something inside of you revolted as you tried to apply it to Joshua. 

How silly, you think. I don’t even know him. 

And yet it remains, this tiny revolution inside of you. A hope for a kinder heart amidst the sea of troubles that you had been cast adrift on. Some lifeboat in the blue-black of it all. If you just reached out, maybe you could save yourself from drowning. 

Foolish, you think, casting the thought aside. No one is coming to save you. Not from your misery, not from your life, not from yourself. You had gotten married under the guise that your life would forever be tied to another person–that you would carry each other through everything–and now that that has dissolved to nothing, you know. You are alone. You have always been alone. 

The fog of winter rolls in shortly, blanketing the city in gray. For a few weeks in the beginning of December, your husband’s mistress disappears. He comes home on time, eats dinner with you, and you spend your days together like any married couple might. You’re lulled into a false sense of security and for a moment you think you could simply float back into the life you had expected to have and forget everything that has been. But only for a moment. Before long she reappears, her hair cropped shorter and  a spring in her step as she bounds through the aisles of the market. Your temporary marital utopia dissolves into the mist and you resume your post as observer. 

The weather starts to warm again, sunlight finding its way through cloud and smog to dapple the sides of buildings, and you take up a nightly ritual of walking through the streets in your neighbourhood. You never stay out too late, or stray too far, but you were starting to feel like a caged animal as you paced through your home and your thoughts night after night. 

On the nights your husband stayed out–either still at work or somewhere with her–you would forgo cooking all together, instead heading to a nearby restaurant as the sun starts to set over the city skyline. You eat slowly, relishing in each flavour and texture, and watch the rest of the patrons as they would do the same. It makes you feel less alone–or at least, less alone in your loneliness–as you would sit and watch the strangers around you bury their own miseries in the warmth of the broth steamed over countless hours. Their minds filled with thoughts and worries of their own. 

Tonight is much the same. You linger at home, straightening cushions and wiping down already clean surfaces to keep your hands occupied while you watch the clock tick down the time. Your phone lights up with a message–your husband informing you that he will be home late, telling you not to wait up. You slip on a light jacket and head out the door. Your feet know the way by now, they carry you almost mindlessly forward–down the elevator, out through the lobby, down the street, two left turns, one right turn, a few blocks ahead. You pass by some familiar faces–vendors and other denizens of the evening that you’ve become accustomed to during your walks–and you acknowledge them as a friend in your mind. Kindred spirits. 

You enter the small restaurant, blinking away the temporary fluorescent lights induced blindness, and take up your usual seat in the corner. Time ceases to exist in this place. If it weren’t for the last vestiges of sunlight forcing their way through the small, foggy window at the front, you wouldn’t be able to tell if it was day or night. 

Over the month or so you’ve started becoming a regular fixture of the place, you’ve grown familiar with a number of the other restaurant denizens. The cook and his wife–presumably the owners of the establishment–are ever silent unless yelling instructions about orders back and forth at each other. The wife, a small woman of indeterminate age, would move with efficiency between the five tables dotting the small space–taking orders, handing them to her husband in the kitchen, taking payments, refilling tea. She never appeared to be rushing, and no one was ever left for too long waiting for anything.

Occasionally a young man would take her place–likely their son or another relation roped in to help with the family business for a night. He was young–university aged maybe–and clearly disinterested in spending what little free time he had serving customers and bussing tables. The disinterest showed plain on his face even as he scribbled down your order (the usual, hot and sour soup and tea) and delivered it to his father in the kitchen. 

Tonight it was the woman, she didn’t even bother to ask you what you wanted as you had ordered the same thing every night over the past week. After a few moments she walks over with a teapot and cup in hand, setting them down with a silent nod, before turning to greet the next customer as they enter through the front door. 

You take a sip of tea, not too hot, before leaning back in the chair to settle in for another evening of people watching. The window in the front of the restaurant is clouded slightly with steam built up from the inside, and a light dusting of grime from the outside, but your eyes have adjusted to the distortion over the past month. You sit and watch as people pass by on the street outside, a few salarymen will stop in throughout for silent meals alone before returning to the streets, but often you’re the sole patron during the few hours you spend there each night. 

You watch as the new patron takes a seat at the table nearest the entrance–you haven’t seen him here before, but he looks the same as the rest. The same white button down, creased with a long day's work; the same black trousers; the same black tie and blazer thrown haphazardly over his shoulder. They were a dime a dozen in the city, these salarymen. Your husband had been one of them, once upon a time. Even with his many promotions over the years he still dressed much the same. You wonder briefly what made him stand out from the crowd to his mistress. 

The woman returns to your table a few minutes later, bearing your soup in her work worn hands. Steam billows from the top and you thank her before straightening in your seat and picking up your spoon. 

The food is not remarkable–truly nothing about this place is. Much like the salarymen that dip in and out through its front door, it’s no different than any of the other random hole-in-the-wall establishments that populate this city. The menu varies little from the usual, and the dingy white tiled walls do little to visually differentiate it. Everything about the place appears to be almost designed to blend into its surroundings. To serve its purpose without disturbing the status quo. It was solid and reliable and it's this very reliability that keeps drawing you back. 

It could be any restaurant. You could be any woman. 

You sink into the anonymity, slowly savouring the warm comfort of your food, and watch the slightly obscured figures of people as they pass by outside under the darkening sky. The man at the table by the door finishes his food quickly–in all of 15 minutes he orders, eats, and pays–with the chiming of the front door you’re left alone again as the only customer inside and the wife returns to rifling through a stack of papers spread out across the small table next to the kitchen. 

An hour passes as you sit in your chair, draining your soup and sitting silently as the scene repeats itself twice over. You glance at the clock on the wall, nearly 8:00pm, then down at your phone screen. No messages, no notifications. The light of the evening sun has all but disappeared by now, only a faint yellow clinging still to the corners of blue that construct the city at night. You push your bowl to the side and sigh–both ready and not ready to head back out into the street and begin your short walk home. As has become the routine, the woman sets her papers aside and presses a few buttons on the old till. You linger a moment longer at the table, watching a pair of women stroll by outside, before getting up and pulling out your wallet. No word is exchanged as you set down a few paper bills on the counter in front of her. 

The night air still bites with the remnants of the winter air and you tug your jacket tighter around to your chest as you step onto the sidewalk. It’s a quieter part of your neighbourhood, but still the streets are abuzz with people even aa the sky deepens with the threat of twilight. You fall in line behind a trio of women, walking a few paces behind them and letting your mind focus in on their conversation as they talk and laugh with each other.

Their conversation is nothing interesting–daily gossip about people you know nothing about, feel nothing for–but it reminds you of when you would wander around at night with your friends in University. Aimless and carefree, talking about nothing and everything that came to mind. When was the last time you had seen any of them? Not for months, surely. Maybe you should reach out.  

The women make a left turn a few blocks later, disappearing in the opposite direction that you’re headed and you let your thoughts drift off as their voices do. Would your husband be home already? Would he be upset with the lack of prepared dinner? He hasn’t mentioned anything about it up until now, but you do wonder how long that might last. You know you should summon up some excuse for why you’ve taken up these walks, why you’re sometimes not home when he gets back, but you can’t bring yourself to care enough to lie. What does it matter anyway? 

You round the final corner towards home. The building looms ahead at the end of the street, lobby lights casting yellow highlights onto the pavement out front. 

“Mrs. _____.” You don’t hear the voice at first. Your attention is far away, lurking in the recesses of your thoughts, and it takes a minute and a repeated call for you to register that acknowledgement. With a quizzical look, you turn towards the source of the voice and see Joshua Hong striding towards you from the opposite side of the street, pace quick to avoid an encroaching motorbike. 

“Mr. Hong?” you ask, wavering with confusion. Still unsure if he’s a real person or a spectre come to warn you of some impending doom awaiting you as you approach your apartment. 

“I thought that might be you,” he smiles, coming to a stop under a streetlight a few feet away. “How are you?” 

You blink him into reality, righting your attention back to alertness after it’s time away. He’s sporting a cream coloured corduroy jacket over a plain white t-shirt. Blue jeans. He looks the same as the last time you met him in the elevator–the same dark brown hair carving waves over his forehead, the same easy smile. You return the smile, sense reasserting itself enough for you to remember your manners. “I'm well, thank you. How are you?”

“Also well,” he replies, gesturing for the pair of you to resume walking towards your shared building. “We were away for a while, my wife and I. Visiting my family in LA.” 

You know this–the kiss of sun on her skin and your previous knowledge of Joshua was enough to clue you into where they had disappeared to those few months ago. Though you weren’t about to tell him this. “Ah, that sounds lovely. How long have you been back?” Polite conversation demands the question, though the answer to it is already blaring red in your mind. 

“About two months ago or so,” he replies. “It was a nice  trip, thank you.” You arrive at the entrance to the apartment complex, Joshua reaches for the door before you have the chance and you nod a thank you as he holds it open for you. “Have you ever been?” 

“To LA?” you ask, though the question is rhetorical and serves mainly to fill the empty spaces in between. He nods, affirming. “No, I haven’t.” You fall into step beside him, low heels clacking across the well worn black and white tiles of the lobby floor. You think to leave your answer succinct but reconsider it as you approach the elevator for fear of the silence that might ensue if you do. “Though, I did once have a dream to move there and become an actress,” you laugh. 

“Oh?” He looks surprised at the sudden confession and you worry you might have said too much about yourself. “Why didn’t you?” 

No one had ever asked you that before. It’s your turn to be taken off guard now as you step up to the dual elevators. Joshua presses the ‘up’ button and you consider how to reply. 

Why didn’t you? 

“I–well,” you start, fumbling through your thoughts. “It wasn’t a very serious dream, and it wasn’t like anything would have come of it. My mother preferred that I stay here and do something more practical.” 

He nods, thoughtful, appearing to seriously consider your response as you watch the numbers descend on the display above the right side elevator. “That’s understandable,” he says after a minute, “I think most parents just want security for their kids. Acting isn’t the most stable or assured career.” 

The elevator arrives, its buffed stainless steel doors sliding open to grant you access to the lift. Joshua gestures for you to step in first, so you do, lighting up the button for your floor as he steps in behind you. 

“Which floor?” you ask. Another question you know the answer to but he humours you anyway and you press the button for him as well. 

Silence steps into the elevator with you just as the doors shut. You realise you’re twisting your fingers together in front of you–a nervous habit you thought you had gotten rid of years ago–and you shake them lightly before dropping your arms back to your sides. 

“What about your father?” Joshua breaks the silence after a moment and again you take a second to register his question, too focused on the audible sound of your breathing. 

“I’m sorry?” You glance at him, not trusting that you had heard him correctly. 

“Your father,” he repeats, soft smile still lightly dusted over his lips. “What did he think of this acting dream of yours?”

“Oh, I don’t–” you pause, clearing your throat. Truthfully, you had never even told your mother about it, you just knew what she would have said if you had. “I’m not sure, he passed away when I was 14.” 

“Oh, I’m sorry,” he apologizes, expression sombering. 

You revert to silent passengers as the lift continues to rise towards your floor. A part of you aches to say something, to break the silence again and continue polite conversation. Something about his demeanour was easy–easy to talk to, easy to be with. But you flounder for questions, comments, topics to mention. The weight of your partner’s affair presses at the front of your mind and you wonder how long you’ll be able to keep it at bay before it spills free from behind the dam of your resolve. 

“What were you doing?” he asks suddenly. Breaking the silence just as you think you might not be able to withstand it any longer. The question confuses you and it must show on your face because he clarifies, “when I ran into you outside. It was getting pretty late.” 

“Oh, right of course,” you say, “I was just out for a walk.”

He nods, understanding. “I was as well. Do you walk often?” 

“Most nights, these days,” you reply. 

“Does your husband not mind?” 

You want to laugh. “He’s not home often, these days,” you answer after a moment, casting your gaze to the floor. Dancing around the implications as the weight presses heavier in your mind. “Your wife?” you ask, flirting with the edges of truth unspoken nestled between you. 

“She’s similarly occupied,” he responds, voice softening. You meet his gaze in the reflection of the doors. A spark of understanding reverberates through you and you wonder if he feels it as well. Swelling like a bloom of light bursting in your chest. He holds your gaze steady, unwavering but silent. He knows. He must. 

The elevator dings, warning you of your arrival, and you clear your throat, tearing your eyes off his and smothering the warmth that had blossomed in your heart. “Thank you,” you say, unsure exactly what you felt compelled to thank him for but giving sound to the sentiment anyway. “For um, the chat. It was nice to see you.” 

“You as well,” he smiles as the doors slide open to let you out. You nod and step into the hallway, torn between the eagerness to be alone once more and a strange resistance at departing from his company so soon. The doors begin to slide closed behind you but you hear him call your name once and spin to see his hand blocking their attempt. “Maybe we’ll see each other again soon, on one of our walks.” 

You nod again and watch as he lets his hand fall, body swallowed back into the elevator as the doors shut and it continues its climb upwards. You stand for a minute, stock still in the hallway once more staring at the space where he was. 

It's amazing how little time it takes for your whole world to shift. It’s a fact you’ve been presented with again and again throughout life–the deaths of your parents, accepting your husband's proposal all those years ago, the photo of him sent to you by an old friend with his arms around another woman. Mere seconds of time that seemed to move entire planets–rearranging your life without your consent at a subatomic level. 

Standing in the hallway now, with the sound of Joshua’s voice lingering in your mind, you get the uncanny feeling that you’ve just lived through another of these moments. You turn away from the elevator and walk the final steps to your apartment accompanied with this knowledge, and the hope that his final statement proves true. 

© 2024, neoneun-au. all rights reserved.

please consider reblogging, i would love to know your thoughts on the story so far !

Delayed

AN: I have been wanting to write about this hair since Super, and now I finally have the motivation and time. Super Jeonghan, you will always be famous to me. The Jeonghan brainworms are very severe right now.

Synopsis: Tonight is arguably one of the important dinners in the kingdom's history. It could make or break relations with the Wen family. Your husband, however, is much more interested in dragging you to bed than building political alliances at the moment.

General tags and warnings: Yoon Jeonghan x Fem! Reader, established relationship, implied arranged marriage, hinted at former enemies to lovers, extremely vague historical AU, royalty AU and there is zero plot here.

Smut tags and warnings: dirty talk, fingering (f. receiving), Reader gets edged once, petnames, having children gets brought up once and it's mostly a joke, nipple and breast play (f. receiving), handjob (m. receiving), piv sex without a condom and creampie.

Word count: 2.5k.

I will block you if you are a minor and/or have no easily visible indication of your age on your blog if you interact with me in any way.

“Your brother is going to lecture our ears off if we're late,” you remind Jeonghan, trying your best not to lose yourself in the way his hands drag along your sides and the way he breathes in your freshly washed hair. 

“Who cares what Joshua thinks?” he mutters dismissively into your neck, leaving goosebumps in his wake, “I'd much rather spend my evening with you instead of at that dinner filled with people I can't stand,” he finishes off, teasing the hem of your robe with his long fingers. 

“As sweet of a sentiment as that is, we have guests from the Wen family visiting. We can't just not show up,” you argue, still remaining in his arms and shuddering when his lips press against the exposed skin of your shoulder. You bite back a whimper when one of his hands continues to trail higher up your thigh, pushing the fabric of your robe out of the way as much as he can to expose as much of your skin as possible to his scorching touch. Jeonghan is arguably the smartest man you know. Hell, you'd go as far as to say he's the smartest man in the nation. You're well aware he's just trying to sway you right now but, you can't pretend he's not being very convincing right now. 

“You've got me there,” he concedes but, his hand doesn't slow in the slightest, “We'll just be a little late, that's all,” he whispers and you swear you've never heard a more tempting offer in your life. It's so much worse when he spins you around to face him. As though you weren't feeling dizzy and lightheaded enough. The lust in his eyes shines brighter than the moon outside of your bedroom window. The charcoal one of his servants applied around them amplifies his want that causes your own desire to flare up viciously. And to think, a year ago you couldn't stand this man and struggled to imagine yourself liking him in any capacity. 

How things have changed. 

“You're a terrible influence,” is all you say before pulling him by his own robe and smashing your lips together. You resist the impulse to roll your eyes when you feel him chuckle against your lips. Fortunately, his hands do a fantastic job of distracting you from his smugness. Nimble fingers untying the knot at the front of your robe with practiced ease. It doesn't quite pool around you but, it does grant your husband all the access he needs. Warm hands wasting no time in kneading and massaging as much of your tits as he's able to. Groaning into your mouth when he feels your hardened nipples underneath his palms. 

“They can't be mad at us for being late anyway,” he mumbles against your lips, “They've been harassing us for an heir for months now. We're just fulfilling our royal duties.” You laugh harder than you anticipate. Your laughter doesn't deter Jeonghan, though. His attention simply shifts to kissing along your jaw and running his hands along your body as though this is the first time he's touching you. As though he didn't have those same hands on you this morning. Out of everything you've learned about him these last few months, his seemingly bottomless lust has caught you the most by surprise. 

“You're ridiculous,” you finally manage to say once you've calmed down sufficiently, allowing your fingers to play with the ends of his hair while his mouth reacquaintes itself with your neck. “Am I wrong?” He asks brazenly, briefly shooting you a look that's equal parts exasperated and knowing before continuing with his very important task of mapping your body with as much of his lips and hands as possible.

“No, you're not,” you concede, letting him pull you towards your ridiculously ornate bed, “but, you're not doing a great job of trying to sway me into believing you suddenly care about your royal duties,” you say with a smile that hurts your face a little. “What? A man can't change his mind?” He asks with faux seriousness. 

“He can but, maybe he should change it another time. Not when we're meant to be getting dressed for a dinner that's very important for the future of our kingdom,” you muse, joining him on your silk sheets and letting him palm your thighs and litter your collarbone with messy kisses. “We'll make it,” he says with so much certainty that you really can't find it within yourself to disagree or argue with him. Especially not when his hand is making its way up your inner thigh, “We just have to be quick and efficient, that's all.” 

Jeonghan doesn't give you much time to digest his words. Dragging you into another impassioned kiss while his fingers brush your delicate folds. He swallows your quiet gasps eagerly. Devouring every sound the swipes and presses of his fingers pluck from you. “I tho–thought you said we had to hurry,” you whine when he continues to toy with you. His touches far too light and far too quick, not allowing you a second to savour them. “You're right, you're right. My apologies.” He has the nerve to chuckle into your mouth but, any snark you're about to unleash on him is forgotten instantaneously when he finally presses his fingertips to your clit with enough pressure to make your eyes flutter and your hands fist his robe. 

“Han–Hannie,” you whimper, allowing yourself to get lost in his skilled fingers and mouth. The thought of political dinners completely vanished from your mind. His mouth finds its way to your neck, kissing along your jugular before descending to your collarbone. You're certain that he could kiss every part of you over and over and over again and it would still never be enough for him. He pushes two fingers into you at the same time that he latches onto your hardened nipple. Dark eyes watching you under his lashes as his mouth draws breathy gasps of his name (well, attempts of his name) and his fingers gradually open you up for him. 

Not one to be outdone, you find enough coherence to palm him through his undergarments. Pride swelling in your chest when you feel his fingers falter and his quiet groan pressed into your skin. He's already so hard and the urge to sit on him and swallow his cock to its hilt grips you violently. So violently in fact that it doesn't take much more prompting for you to slip your hand into his undergarments and grasp him directly. Your walls squeezing around his fingers in time with the way he pulses in your hand. 

“You're going to be the death of me,” he hisses, finding his composure rather quickly (because of course he does) and curling his fingers inside you in the way he knows will make stars dance in your vision. Frankly, you wouldn't be shocked if he was a warlock because the reactions he pulls from you are not normal in the slightest. “You ah started all of th–this,” you remind him, gradually stroking him and delighting in the way his cock throbs in your palm with every movement. It's always lovely to be reminded that he's just as far gone for you as you are for him. 

Jeonghan chooses not to respond. Electing instead to increase the intensity of the way his fingers curl inside of you and covering your breasts in kisses while he shallowly thrusts into your hand. It's all messy and barely coordinated but, you find the tension in your core building. Every brush of your clit, every touch of his fingers, every kiss and lick of his mouth just pushes you closer and closer to the edge. You're sure he can feel the way your thighs quiver and the lack of focus you're able to provide to his slick cock in your hand. It's so close that you can practically taste it. 

And just like that, Jeonghan pulls his drenched fingers out of you. 

You're not sure when your eyes shut but, they fly open within an instant. Shooting your husband with a look that you're sure is equal parts betrayal and frustration. You can't help the way your hips jolt, searching for any sort of stimulation. Instinctively looking for anything to help ease the fluttering of your walls and the incessant pulse of your clit.

“Jeonghan.” 

He does at least look a little ashamed but, not enough for your liking. You can still see the amusement too clearly in his eyes. “I'm sorry, love,” he doesn't sound sorry in the slightest, “You know I can't help myself sometimes,” he says with an upturn of his lips that makes your stomach twist horribly and your ache between your thighs worsen. “Let me make it up to you,” he offers, maneuvering his way between your thighs before you can blink and recognise he's no longer in your grasp. Gods, you know his hair is going to be ruined by the time the two of you are finished but, you truly hope not. He's looked otherworldly before but, seeing him from this angle is an entirely different experience altogether. You've got to slip his servants a generous amount of gold coins in thanks. 

His kiss is gentle this time. A stark contrast to the way you can feel his tip prodding at your dripping, eager entrance. “I love you,” he sighs before pushing into you and, you really don't think that's all that fair. You really did marry a dirty trickster of a man. “Always so eager and ready for me,” he continues, his voice hoarse with desire as he finds his pace and all you can do is cling to his back for some form of grounding, “My beautiful, lovely, brilliant, erotic wife,” he grits out, one of his hands gripping your hip fiercely. 

It's hard to think of anything other than his gorgeous face twisted in the most arousing expressions you've ever seen in your life and the way his cock drags along the deepest, most intimate parts of you. You knew you were close before but, a few thrusts already have you dangerously teetering on the edge. “You're so unfair,” you gasp out while he focuses his attention on nipping at your throat while twisting and tugging at your nipples with those stupidly skilled fingers of his. 

“Unfair?” He laughs breathlessly, meeting your lidded gaze with his own, “Maybe you shouldn't have seduced me with that flimsy robe of yours,” he argues. The following snap of his hips is sharp and you can't really find it in you to respond. Grasping his own robe for purchase as the tension in your core begins to reach a fever pitch. “How was I meant to stop myself when you looked like that?” He rasps into your ear and you think it's deeply unfair how many of your weaknesses he's learned and, is using against you. He chuckles into your skin when all you're able to reply with are choked gasps and whines of his name. You can feel him smile into you when you jolt just as he presses his fingers to your swollen clit. Not giving you a chance to collect yourself before he rubs circles into you that cause your thighs to shake violently and your walls to tighten around him. 

“You wanted to cum, right?” His tone is teasing and you swear you hate him. It's difficult to speak when you can practically taste your climax with every touch of his fingers and stroke of his cock, “I want you to,” he breathes, a touch of desperation to his tone, “I want to feel it when you do. Want to feel you cum all over me, all around me,” he whispers straight into your ear and you can already feel the beginnings of electricity shooting down your spine, “I need to.” 

You're not sure what causes the cord to snap entirely. His cock? His fingers? His words? His voice? Him? You're not sure it really matters, ultimately. Your breaths turn to gasps and whimpers moans of his name while your thighs quiver around his slender hips. Every extremity tingling with the lightning you can feel coursing through you as Jeonghan continues his movements even through your mind numbing orgasm. You're too lost in a daze to make out what he's saying but, the bleary vision of him with his carefully styled hair sticking to his sweaty face and his smeared, charcoal liner make your stomach swoop all the same. 

“–beautiful you are,” are the rushed words you do manage to catch just as his grip on your hips grows harsher and his face morphs in pleasure. Jeonghan's stamina is impressive. Another aspect of him that you never quite expected. And usually, you'd be more than happy to let him continue making love to you until you both pass out but, you both have duties to attend to.

Jeonghan isn't the only one who has picked up a trick or two over the course of your marriage. 

Using what little energy you have left, you wrap your arms around him. Jeonghan lets you pull him closer to you, his breath stuttering when you intentionally clench your walls around him and drag your fingernails along the parts of scalp that aren't covered in hair clips. “Hannie,” you add an extra bit of whine in your voice, reveling in the way you feel him shudder and his cock throb inside of you, “Love you, Hannie.” He makes a noise you barely register before kissing you fiercely and holding you in place as he snaps his hips faster and faster, his blunt nails digging into your skin and your kiss being more tongue and spit than anything else. 

You're not sure what pushes him over the edge but, it's not long before he moans long and quietly into your mouth and you feel his cock shoot rope after rope of his release into you. The warmth that fills you is familiar and just so him that you can't help the soft whines that fall from your lips as you feel him ride out his climax. You can tell he's trying his best to not just collapse onto you but, the shakiness in his arms is evident and he's practically on you already. A small laugh bubbles out of you and you can't help but, smile when he shoots you a curious look.

“What?” He asks, running his thumb along the marks his nails left on your hip. 

“You can rest on me if you want to, beloved husband,” your face hurts from how much you're smiling. You must look insane, “You won't crush me.” 

Either he's just as insane as you are or he shares your bizarre sense of elation right now because he smiles right back at you before responding, “I thought we had a dinner to attend?” You decide to ignore how attractive he looks with his eyebrow raised. 

“We're already running late anyway. What's a few more minutes?” 

He really has become a terrible influence. 

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