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𝔥𝔴𝔞𝔯𝔞𝔫𝔤 - 𝔥𝔧𝔰 | 𝔭𝔞𝔯𝔱 𝔦

pairing: hong jisoo x female!reader genre: historical au, fluff, angst, smut (later routes), supernatural members: lee jihoon, choi seungcheol, wen junhui, kwon soonyoung, jeon wonwoo, lee seokmin, kim mingyu, boo seungkwan, lee chan, xu minghao, lee chan, choi hansol warnings: crass humor and language, blood, violence, mentions of suicide, alcohol, minor character death, 660's sexism, crossdressing, medical procedures, political upset, historical inaccuracies for the sake of plot progression word count: 24k

taglist: @reiofsuns2001, @hipsdofangirl, @lovrehani

DISCLAIMER: as some parts of the hwarang series appear in every route, some scenes will appear the same with major to minor differences within the text.

𝔭𝔯𝔬𝔩𝔬𝔤𝔲𝔢 || 𝔭𝔞𝔯𝔱 𝔦𝔦

𝔉𝔢𝔟𝔯𝔲𝔞𝔯𝔶 1𝔰𝔱, 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 have 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 is 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 of 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 a 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 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. 

A wordless nod, understanding that asking any more of him would cause his mood to sour even more so after his meeting with Suh Kangjoon. Jihoon turns on his heels the same time as you, drifting away towards his room on the opposite end of the compound while you shuffle back to yours. 

𝔍𝔲𝔫𝔢 15𝔱𝔥, 661 - 𝔖𝔢𝔬𝔯𝔞𝔟𝔢𝔬𝔩, 𝔎𝔦𝔫𝔤𝔡𝔬𝔪 𝔬𝔣 𝔖𝔦𝔩𝔩𝔞 The air thick with 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 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, Li. 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.  

“I think I should stay behind today,” after a moment of thinking, you come to the conclusion. There was no assurance that your father is out on the streets of Seorabeol still, and the looming threat of danger still hangs over the city. 

“What?!” Soonyoung frowns, “But what about your father?” 

“I have to understand my place here too, though… We don’t even know if he’s there anymore,” you give him a small smile and nod, “I’m sure more chances will come.” 

“If you say so,” he sounds a bit jilted, “But if you’ve already made up your mind there’s no convincing you…” 

After that, the men deliberate their plans before heading off to their respective destinations and you return to your room. The thought of not going eats away at you, maybe it would’ve been better to take the risk and venture out… 

“If you’re going to regret it that much, you should’ve gone with them.” 

The voice behind you startles you from your thoughts, you swivel on your heels to greet who’d interrupted your thinking, “Seungkwan… I’m not regretting it.” Yet, you are, so much so that you can’t bear to look into his eyes. But he smiles wryly, putting a hand on your shoulder. 

“Not at all?” He asks with a grin, “Not even if you knew Hansol and I went out of our way to convince Jihoon?” 

“You what…?” The revelation sucks the air from your lungs, not expecting him to say that at all. Had you wasted their kindness? “I’m sorry! I didn’t realize—” 

“Ah, well, it was actually Hansol that convinced him. I just stood behind him and nodded lightly.” 

“Even so,” you say as you look at him, “I’m sorry… I’ll apologize to Hansol later— Should there be another opportunity, please give me another chance to join you.” 

Seungkwan hesitates for a moment before responding, his eyes focusing deeply on yours, “You may be able to accompany us, but you’d better keep that blade sheathed. We don’t need any recklessness holding us back.” His eyes are serious but his smile remains bright, “If there’s any sign of you becoming an issue, I won’t hesitate to put my blade through you.” 

“I understand,” you say, nodding plaintively. 

The Hwarang says nothing more as he removes his hand from you, turning on his heels and making his way out of the main hall.

𝔍𝔲𝔩𝔶 7𝔱𝔥, 661 - 𝔖𝔢𝔬𝔯𝔞𝔟𝔢𝔬𝔩, 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 patrolling 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 make you feel somewhat more relieved, you wouldn’t have to face the Demon commander alone. 

“You asked to see me?”  There is 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.” 

“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… I feel 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.” 

It feels like no time at all before you reach the city’s streets accompanying Seungkwan on his rounds. 

“It feels like there’s more people here than usual…” You note as you walk, having to move to the side several times to let flocks of people pass by as the street lay cramped. 

“Mind yourself,” Seungkwan notes, pulling you to the side, out of the way of a passing cart. “Try not to wander off or something. Remember that you’re here to keep me company on my rounds.” 

“Sorry I was just distracted by everyone!” You say, brushing off the dust on your pants, “The city’s much livelier now.” 

His eyes twinkle and he smiles voraciously; you can sense him relax. “Well, there’s a summer festival happening soon, things are busier, I’ll give you that.” His smile wanes just a bit, “Of course, some of those loyalists are acting pretty strange too. What I’m saying is, watch yourself, alright?” 

As you walk down the street with his division, no one comes within a few yards of you; they step away as soon as their eyes catch sight of the blues. You’d noticed this phenomenon briefly when you’d first joined the Hwarang on their rounds, but it seems clear that the people of Seorabeol hold some sort of respect for these men. 

You stop every so often to ask some of the less intimidated passersby if they’d seen your father. Yet, after a few hours of searching, you finally meet someone who claims to have seen a man matching your description.

“Oh, yeah… I think I might’ve seen that guy a while back, over at Joon’s.” As he speaks, he points toward a store selling inkstones and brushes.

“Thank you!” You say as Seungkwan catches your eye, giving you a stern look. It almost looks as if he’s going to scold you when— 

“You there! Are you from the Kang household?!” The cry comes from a Hwarang, and Seungkwan turns from you, his lips tightening into a thin line. “Your household is currently under investigation by order of the Crown.” 

“Well shit…” Seungkwan sighs out, reaching for his sword as he looks at the men in question. “I guess they would choose the worst possible time to stir up trouble.” 

Like leaves scattering in a storm, the townspeople move out of Seungkwan’s way as he moves towards the commotion. For a moment you panic in the mass of fleeing citizens, but perhaps realize it’s best. If you stay too close, you may distract Seungkwan from his duties. 

You duck off into a nearby alley to watch, planning to return to the men once the tension simmers. 

“Hey kid,” a gravelly voice of an elder shopkeeper cries out, “Come over here, you don’t want to get caught up in that.” 

Time and time you’d been told to be wary of strangers while with the Hwarang, and you’re about to politely refuse his gesture when you realize that his shop is the one that the civilian had pointed out to you just moments earlier. 

“Excuse me, but is this Joon’s?” 

“Yes,” the man nods, “It is.” 

“Great!” You cry out, only before being interrupted by another shop employee. 

“Kang! This guy was just with the Hwarang!”

“What?!” The elder says, his eyebrows raising. 

“Huh? I’m not a member of the Hwarang.” You push, but the elder already seems to be backing up into his shop, obviously disinterested in helping you now. “No—it’s not like that! I’m just looking for someone!” Even if you’d just been walking with them, their reaction seems a bit excessive. 

A laugh behind you and you see Seungkwan standing there with his arms crossed, “You really have the shittiest luck, don’t you? Still, I guess you could say the same about them, or me.” He gives a small, unconcerned shrug before reaching for his blade and barreling his way through the door of the shop. 

Joon’s explodes with the clang of blades, men swearing and scrambling. 

When you return to the Hwarang headquarters, Seungcheol has a number of… less than pleasant words to say. Seungkwan and you kneel for quite some time as the colonel berates you before the other speaks up. 

“You don’t need to lose your head over it Seungcheol,” Seungkwan sighs, “After all, we arrested a couple of loyalists.”  

After the fighting was finished, you’d discovered a massive arms cache, as well as plans for a new meeting for the loyalists. No one had bothered to explain to you what had been going on, however, and you’d been completely lost. 

“Not something to lose my head over?” Seungcheol frowns, “My head is right where it belongs. Perhaps you should inquire after yours. The man claiming to be Joon Hyunjin was, in truth, Kang Kwanghyeon, a loyalist spy. You were aware that the Hwarang were allowing him to operate in hopes of gathering enemy intel?” 

“Yes,” Seungkwan nods, rising to his feet as Mingyu walks into the hall, “but we didn’t have a choice this time. I had to bring him in.” 

“Well at least it wasn’t a total bust,” Mingyu adds, “Like Seungkwan said, they did arrest some guys.” 

“But don’t you feel bad for Wonwoo and Chan?” Soonyoung asks, trailing behind Mingyu. Had they been outside the doors this whole time? “They were staking out the place to keep an eye on Kwanghyeon.” 

The corners of Soonyoung’s mouth twitch into a smile, but Wonwoo interrupts him to continue. “We appreciate your concern, Soonyoung, but nobody needs to lose any sleep on our account. We hadn’t been getting anywhere with him the last few days, Seungkwan did us a favor.” 

Chan nods in silent agreement. “His arrest is over and done, you won’t hear any complaints from us about it, though.” 

“You’re the definition of stoic and reasonable,” Junhui sighs out, crossing his arms, “Seungkwan on the other hand…” It doesn’t seem as if he’s going to let Seungkwan get away without rubbing his mistake in his face. 

“It’s all my fault,” you say, “Some loyalists were causing trouble, so I tried to get out of the way… I was going to go back to Seungkwan after it settled but the crowds pushed me too far away.” 

“But who was tasked with looking after you?” Seungcheol asks, his eyes glaring at you, expression hard and angry. “A captain of the Hwarang can’t even track a charge. Is this the best we can do?” When you’d first met Seungcheol, he’d been nice, if anything a little quiet. After his injury, however… It was as if he’d become an entirely different person. 

“I told her she could go.” Jihoon says as he walks into the hall, “They were only following orders.”

Seungcheol’s eyes trail him as he moves to stand at the head of the room. He gives the commander a tight, wry smile, but only receives a peaceful, impartial glance in return. 

“If you’re here, then that means you’re done interrogating Kwanghyeon, right?” Mingyu asks expectantly. 

“They’re going to wait for a day when the wind picks up, then set Seorabeol on fire and kidnap the King while everyone else is losing their shit.” Jihoon answers, “So they say, at least.” His voice is calm and measured, but you can all feel the import of his words. 

“Burn down the city?” Junhui scoffs, “Those loyalists are crazier than I thought.” 

“Whatever their reasons, we cannot ignore them,” Hansol says plainly. 

“They’re probably meeting tonight to scramble together a plan without Kwanghyeon in it.” Jihoon says, “We need to get ready to move out.” 

“Understood,” Hansol nods. 

“Finally,” Junhui says as he stretches, several pops coming from his back, “I’m getting chills.” 

Even though each man displays their professionalism differently, they are all clearly prepared. As they quiet down, Jihoon turns towards you, as if he’d only just noticed you’re standing there. 

“We did get some information on Heo, apparently he visited Joon’s with some men from the west.” 

“What?” 

“So, the rumors that he was seen in Seorabeol were true, but that’s all there is to it.” 

There are so many questions running through your head that you want to ask but you know that no one here has an answer for them.

Preparations for the raid begin immediately after the captains are all gathered in the main hall. There was even more commotion by the time dinner rolled around. The halls now darkened save for the braziers and candles that light the entrances and walls. The tension is thick enough to cut with a knife.

 It still affects you all the same. Your encounter at Joon’s created some of their current headache, and you hope to make up for it. Yet, any offer of assistance now is rebuked, it became quite clear that you have very little to offer when it comes to preparing for a raid. At the end of it, you stick to the wall, standing there quietly to avoid being a burden.

“Youngmin has only twelve men ready to fight,” Hansol murmurs to Mingyu. 

“And Jihoon and I have twenty-four a piece, everyone’s sick!” Mingyu says exasperatedly. There had been a swift food poisoning epidemic earlier in the week leaving many men bedridden. It’s like they’re now divided in half. 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. “Do you think we’ll bring ‘em along tonight?” Mingyu asks, “It’d be perfect…” 

Them?

“I heard they won’t see combat for a while. They’re having… difficulty adjusting.” Hansol frowns. “They stop listening to orders as soon as they see blood. It’s rather inconvenient.”

The topic confuses you, yet you feel as if you’d heard something similar a while ago. Both of the captains hadn’t realized that you’re listening to their conversation. But it’s crucial that you don’t speak up. 

“They’ve gotta be spinning in their graves… Didn’t they choose to do this so they could fight?” 

“Mingyu… You can only say that after someone’s actually dead.”

“I guess you’re right,” the younger of the two captains sighs out, “They aren’t really dead, are they? They’re actually harder to kill now…” 

Now you really know you’re not supposed to be listening to this. To remove yourself from the area, you quickly begin to walk outside of the main hall, but as you open the door, you nearly run into another figure. 

“Huh? What’re you doing here?” Youngmin says as he holds his arms out to steady you as you brake in front of him.

“Oh… I… I couldn’t just sit there…” You explain to him how you feel useless in this situation, that you’d left your room to try and help but found nothing you could do. 

“Of course,” he smiles, trying to comfort you, “I know how you feel! The men are pretty excited, aren’t they?” 

“Yes,” you nod, not knowing if excited was the best term for him to use. Bloodthirsty may have been better. 

“Would you care to join us?” He asks simply. 

“What?!” You sputter out, not expecting him to say that. “You mean go on a raid with you? I don’t think that I could—”

“You see, many of my men are out with food poisoning, so we’re a bit understaffed. We could certainly use a messenger, but if you’d rather not, there’s no need to feel obligated.”

“Well, alright,” you nod, remembering that Youngmin’s group had lost the most men due to the sickness, “if I’ll just be a messenger, it should be okay.” 

His face splits into a grin and you find yourself on the way to Wonweol Inn to accompany their raid.

After you arrived at Wonweol, you were sent off on several short errands nearby. When you return, you hear Junhui talking to Seungkwan. 

“Looks like we’ve hit the jackpot on this one. Not sure if they’re brave, or stupid, for meeting right next to a government building.” Junhui says, glancing at the building next to the Inn.

“I knew they’d be here,” Seungkwan sighs, “After all, they’ve had a record of meeting at Wonweol.”

“Sure,” Junhui says, crossing his arms, “but the night Kwanghyeon gets arrested? That just seems sloppy to me. Aren’t they afraid of looking suspicious?” 

“Well obviously they’re somewhat less than normal,” Seungkwan quips, “They are meeting at Wonweol, aren’t they?” 

Their conversation is somewhat lighthearted, which doesn’t quite match the subject matter. As you approach, Soonyoung notices you and jogs over. 

“How’d it go?” He questions, “Did you see anyone from the Guard?”

 You shake your head before answering, “To be honest, I didn’t really see anyone nearby.”

“So, they still haven’t made their move? We told them that we’d be here before dark…” 

“Calm down, Soonyoung,” Junhui says as he walks over, lightly slapping the other on the back, “It won’t do us any good if they show up anyway. If this is gonna happen, we’ve gotta do it ourselves.” 

“I guess… It’s just that running in on our own seems a little reckless?” Soonyoung frowns, and Kangjoon, who’s on standby behind Soonyoung, nods in agreement.

“It is reckless.” He asserts, “We should wait for the Guard’s reinforcements.”

“If you believe that’s the best course of action,” Youngmin cedes, “Then why don’t we wait a little longer.”

Yet, no matter how long you wait, the officials still haven’t made it. 

You find yourself looking up at the sky. The moon inching further across the scape the longer you stay in the recesses of Wonweol.

“It’s getting late…” Junhui murmurs.

“What do you want to do, Chief?” Seungkwan asks Youngmin, “It’d be pretty shitty if we just sat here all night.” 

Youngmin had been quiet all this time, yet when Seungkwan spoke to him, he stood up, ready to address his men.

“We can’t wait a moment longer. Seungkwan, Junhui, Soonyoung: you all, follow me.” 

Seungkwan nods quietly but firmly as Kangjoon speaks up, “I will secure the front entrance so you guys can have at it.” 

“Aren’t you coming?” Soonyoung questions, surprised. 

“It’s all good,” Seungkwan quips, “I mean, we don’t want him in the dark and then mistakenly stabbing us you know? Oh, actually… We may mistakenly stab him.” 

“What are you suggesting, Seungkwan?” Kangjoon frowns as he shifts his weight from foot to foot. 

“Now, now.” Junhui intervenes, “If you want someone charging, we want someone reliable anyways. So, with that said, take care of the outside, Kangjoon.” 

“Can you stay away from the Inn?” Youngmin turns as he asks you, “Things are going to get dangerous. That place is full of rebel soldiers. We don’t intend to allow them to escape, but… better safe than sorry.” 

“Alright,” you say as he smiles at you, motioning for the men to join him in rushing the inn. 

The battle begins in earnest. The yells of men and the clang of swords fills the air soon after the Hwarang make their way inside, the sounds roll out of the doors and windows of the inn. 

You can hear feet pounding up the stairs, the screams of men dying and the wet thud of bodies dropping to the floor. 

“Damn it!” You hear Junhui shout out, “There’s too many of them! We need backup! Is there anyone outside?!” 

There had been moments prior, but all of the men who’d come with the captains had run around back and couldn’t hear Junhui call out. Kangjoon, on the other hand, is stationed outside, arresting any man attempting to flee the building. 

Is the only person left to really help you? Your thoughts interrupted when Youngmin yells out—

“Seungkwan! Are you alright?!”

 “Damn it Soonyoung! Don’t die on me!” Junhui calls out from somewhere else inside the building.

You have no desire to enter a slaughterhouse, with men killing and maiming one another. Even if you do, you have no illusions about your skill with a blade. You’re sure to be killed before you even draw it. 

Perhaps though, instead of fighting, you can rescue the wounded and pull them from the inn. This is how you find yourself drawn closer to the fray, only running inside when you hear Junhui yell out once again. 

Inside, it’s pitch black. The smell of blood hits your stomach like a fist. Black masses lay crumpled on the floor; the bodies of dead or dying men. Where are Seungkwan and Soonyoung? 

Entering the building had seemed a good idea on the outside, but now that you look around the charnel house, you realize that there is no way you can carry two men outside. 

With the fighting going on, and in the darkness too, you’d only be an impediment to the Hwarang should you choose to stumble around blindly in the dark— Looking around the inn, you cannot see a singular face that you recognize. It’s not until an unfamiliar face shouts out at you and raises their blade, do you fully realize the severity of your situation. 

Yet, before the blade meets your flesh, another sword juts out and parries it away from you. 

“Hey, hey, hey!” Junhui shouts out to the revivalist, “You’re fighting me!” The Hwarang swings again and ends up burying his sword deep into the man’s stomach. 

Eyes trained on the blood pouring from the wound and now the man’s mouth, you can’t find it within yourself to look away.

“Would you mind checking upstairs?” Junhui asks quickly, his eyes trained on a few more men stumbling into the main room, “No one’ll get past me. I promise!” With that, he pushes past you and heads towards the group of men, your eyes focusing on the bright crimson trailing down his hand from a cut he’d received earlier. “Get going!” He calls out as his blade crashes against another’s.

And so, you do, quickly slipping by the throng of fighting bodies as you travel quickly up the staircase, your feet thudding along the wood. 

The scent of blood has traveled upstairs too, stinging your nose with its metallic tang as you look around the hall. Without another thought, you open the nearest door and run into the room. It seems like this darkened corner of the inn hasn’t been tainted with bloodshed yet, the interior clean and tidy. 

“Pray tell, why are you here?” A voice calls out from the dark and you realize you aren’t alone. At the open window, someone stares off into the darkness, the breeze of the night carrying his voice to you.

He wears no uniform belonging to either the revivalists or the Hwarang, just pale-yellow robes embroidered with a flower you can’t make out in the dark. 

Even as you stand shocked, you have a plethora of questions; Why is he here? What is he doing? Who is he? 

It seems like he hasn’t partaken in the battle, only looking to the streets coated in moonlight as the fighting wages downstairs. He seems calm, almost serene in the way he stands and throws a look back to you. 

“Who are you?” You find yourself asking as his reddened eyes pierce into yours. 

“Are you the one asking questions now?” A small smile dances along his lips as he only replies with a question himself. “Worry about where you are more than you’re worried about me.” 

His words snap you from the tranquility of the moment. Right, he’s an enemy, isn’t he? Instinctively, your hand reaches for the blade at your hip, his brow raising at your movement. 

“Planning on joining the fight?” As his gaze lingers on the steel, his eyes widen, “Wait, is that—?” The man now stands facing you directly, taking a step towards you as his eyes remain fixated on the blade. 

Just then, the door to the room flies open and a bloodied warrior saunters in, looking frantically to the stranger, “Hey, the Hwarang raided—” His report stops when he lays eyes on you, “Who the hell are you?!” Without hesitation, he reaches for his blade after not recognizing you as one of his own, and begins to swing at you. Although, before his blade can reach your head, a loud shout comes from the first man you’d encountered. 

“Quiet!” Almost in a blink of an eye, he’d unsheathed his own sword and charged at the already bloodied man, downing him with a singular strike. Once the man falls to the floor, the closer of the two looks to you, “Didn’t I tell you? You should be more concerned about yourself.”

“Why did you…” Your eyes still focused on the man who lays dead or dying at your feet, “Isn’t he your ally?” 

“If he were an ally, I wouldn’t have cut him loose.” His self-possession quiets you as he sheathes his sword.

It’s obvious that he isn’t a member of the Hwarang. You don’t know his purpose here either. 

Above anything, his gaze captures yours, enamoring your senses as if he were the only thing that matters right now. His eyes draw you into a lucid hypnosis, filling you with doubt about if he is a threat to you at all.

“…Thank you,” you’re able to say once you regain a bit of composure. 

A smirk crawls to the corner of his mouth, “Looks like you have some manners despite staying by the Hwarang’s side.” He’s mocking the men that had taken you in, and yet, you can’t bring yourself to argue against what he’s saying. 

“Why did you save me?” Questioning as his gaze falls to the blade at your hip. 

“Does that belong to you?” Ignoring your question, he imposes his own. His eyes glimmer almost burgundy from the silver light of the moon refracting into the room. 

“It does…” your hand now hovers near the blade as he lets out a soft laugh. 

“Then you can thank your blade.” Before you can ask him why, he turns but not before giving you a sly wink. “My business here is done. You can do whatever you want.” He takes his time walking towards the open window, jumping through it without any hesitation or final words. 

Your feet carry you to the window, but there isn’t any sign of the stranger. No footprints, no up kick of dirt—nothing. He’d made it clear that he wasn’t aligned with either side here tonight, so then why had he been at the inn? 

Standing there dumbfounded, you sense a presence entering the room behind you quietly. A prickle on the back of your neck and you slowly wrap your hand around your blade. 

“Are you alright?” The voice of Lee Chan startles you and you spin on your feet. You look at him with a puzzled expression, hadn’t he gone to Jeolin with Jihoon? It’s then your shoulders let go of their tension for a moment, reinforcements had arrived. 

𝔄𝔲𝔤𝔲𝔰𝔱 2𝔫𝔡, 661 - 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. 

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.” 

“Ah, yes- hello,” the man smiles at you, the sunlight glimmering off of the purple silk of his robes, he then pauses, his eyes widening. “You’re…” 

“Huh?” 

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 the man and then back to you, pausing as if to let you speak. 

“Commander,” eyebrows raising in surprise, “This is-” 

Before you can finish speaking, the stranger almost gleefully runs to the commander. 

“I knew it!” he 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 really 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, can I ask who this is?” 

“Oh, yeah. You two haven’t met, I take it?” Jihoon muses and turns to look at you. 

“Oh, I haven’t introduced myself yet.” Seokmin nods, “My name is Lee Seokmin. I’m a Naegeumwi.” 

You introduce yourself quickly. 

“It’s nice to meet you,” he smiles and gives you a short bow. 

Jihoon then gazes at 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 is 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. After you set down the tray, Jihoon tells 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’re 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, speaks up, “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,” he says, bowing his head humbly, “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 work 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 a 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 fairly 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 you.” His eyes shine with admiration towards Jihoon, 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. 

The three of you talking must’ve drawn the attention of the captains, because as Seokmin was about to begin 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 as 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. 

“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 Goguryeo 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 of 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 Goguryeo 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 wasn’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 at 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 course on your palm. The heat of its contents rises up 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 Sabi. 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 is 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 still hurt 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 other 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 once 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 are 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 with 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 seem 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 officers 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’s 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.

“Commander… He was at Wonweol!” You say, finally realizing where you’d seen this man before.

“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?” 

“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 is 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 bit, 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 and draw your blade instinctively. Knees locking together, your swordsmanship wouldn’t be useful in battle but maybe, just maybe, you can buy the other men some time. 

The next thing you know, a high pitch screech of metal rings out and you’re on the ground. The stranger’s hit had blindsided you, and when your eyes refocus, you see his blade pointing down at you as a trickle of blood runs down your face. 

“That blade…” The stranger murmurs, looking to the steel that had fallen out of your grasp and lay only a foot or two away, “A familiar sight indeed.” Their eyes lock onto yours, “Hey, do you even realize what’s happening? The wound on your face is already starting to heal.” 

Your hand flies to your cheek, fingers brushing over where the cut should have been, but it has already healed. The pain had stopped and the blood had staunched itself. The stranger’s crimson eyes widen.

“Who would’ve thought I’d meet you here. And a female Demon, no less…” His gaze is scrutinizing, “What is your name? And how did you come across this?” 

Before you can answer, a dull clang of metal cries out above you as Jihoon swings his sword from behind while the stranger parries it in front. 

“Get away!” Jihoon shouts out angrily, holding his sword, ready to strike again. 

“Bastard, stay out of my way!” 

“I’m the one you’re fighting!” Jihoon reiterates, “Or do you only prey on the weak? I didn’t take you for a bully.” 

“How dare you, you monarchist dog,” The stranger near growls out as Jihoon looks at you. 

“Go on ahead!” He says and suddenly, energy jolts through you.

You scramble off of the ground reaching for your sword, urgency picking up your feet as you begin to dash away. Even if Jihoon had been there, you don’t think he’d seen your cut heal, at least you hope he hadn’t.

Demon. One of us.

The words of the stranger reverberate around your head as you run, but you can’t dwell on it now as you run to catch up with Junhui and the other men. 

By the time you and the rest of the Hwarang make it to the Northern Gates, it seems as if the King’s garrison had 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 waned to a close and the sun began 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 to see 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 have meant 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 labeling 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 younger 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 more melancholy 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 our 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 says, 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.”

enjoy what you read? leave a comment! it helps with motivating us writers to keep producing content for our lovely readers ❤

Take a Chance With Me | j.ww (18+)

You could not believe that no one ever told you how frustrating (and beautiful) it was to be hopelessly captivated by a boy who thinks love is overrated.

one | two | three | four | five

Genre: college au, strangers to lovers, slow burn Pairing: Jeon Wonwoo x afab!Reader Warnings: fluff fluff, she fell first he fell harder kinda slow burn lol, mature themes, explicit sexual content (18+) Notes: 25k words. Part 3 of the Heartbreak Hotel series, but it can be read as a standalone fic. Listening to Take a Chance with Me by NIKI. Longer fic because writing this was my coping mechanism for the devastating tragedy that was Backburner. Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction. I do not know them personally and do not claim they would ever behave like they were portrayed in this story.

Playlist: Take a Chance with Me by NIKI, Forces by Japanese Wallpaper, I Think He Knows by Taylor Swift, Taglist: @katfaceu @mansaaay @scoupsjin @iarayara @gaslysainz @silvermist002 @ssmebody @alyssa19123456

Jeon Wonwoo’s story began one hot evening, just two weeks into your senior year of college. It was at a party—one where you’d arrived late after a supposedly quick pre-game session with your girlfriends at Lea’s apartment turned into a full-on mini-party on its own. You’d almost ditched the party altogether, but Mina said she had to meet this guy at the party, or she’d regret it forever. Of course, she was exaggerating at the time, but you went anyway.

You were the designated driver since you were the only one who didn’t drink, which was because you were late even to the pre-game. Some things just never change, and being late is one of your many talents.

As soon as you pulled up to the driveway of the party venue, your friends rushed out of the car and into the house, leaving you behind to park. Just as you were stepping out of your car, you spotted Wonwoo—tall standing next to the lamppost, and handsome under the yellow-orange glow of the light. He was attractive—the slight flush on his cheeks, his skin glowing under the lamplight, and even in simple square glasses and a plain white tee, he radiated a quiet confidence that made you pause.

He was cute. And he was heading toward you.

Why though? Did he want to talk to you? Maybe get your number? Oh my god. What are you gonna do?

You stood frozen, heart pounding in your chest as Wonwoo closed the gap between you. Sure, he wasn’t the first guy to ever approach you, but he was cute, and it was ridiculous how fast you were crushing on him.

He’s coming, you told yourself, glancing around casually, trying not to look too eager. But just as he was about three steps away—bam! He hit the ground, limbs sprawled out in every direction.

You gasped, rushing over. “Oh my God, are you okay?”

He groaned, kicked at the offending rock that had tripped him, and then dramatically flopped onto the grass as if it had betrayed him too.

You crouched beside him, waving a hand in front of his face. “Hey, you alright?”

Wonwoo blinked up at the sky, glaring like the stars were personally out to get him. Then, locking his glassy eyes on yours, he said, “Hi. My asshole friends abandoned me here.” He hiccupped. “I’m kinda drunk and you’re kinda gorgeous. Would you be so kind to help me out?”

Caught off guard by his random compliment, you chuckled. “Here, let me help you up,” you said, tugging his arm, trying to haul him back to a sitting position. “You can walk, right? You were walking just now.”

“Walking’s overrated,” he muttered, but with your help, he managed to get back on his feet, wobbling slightly.

You told him your name. “What’s yours? Where do you live? Do you need a ride?”

He opened his mouth to speak but someone suddenly appeared beside him, patting his chest. It was Hoshi. “There you are, Wonwoo. We’ve been looking all over for you!” 

“Hosh! You know this guy?” you asked.

“Look,” Wonwoo said, turning to you and pointing a very unsteady finger at his friend. “See that? Fake friend. Never trust people who abandon you.”

“What are you talking about? You’re the one who wandered off!”

Wonwoo smirked, leaning in as if sharing a deep truth. “People who gaslight you aren’t your friends. Don’t forget that.”

“I can’t believe I ditched my girl for this. Okay, that's enough from you.” Hoshi slung Wonwoo’s arm over his shoulder. “Where’s that idiot Jun? Junhui!”

A second later, a man came jogging toward you. “Found him?”

“Yeah, help me get him out of here,” Hoshi said, struggling to hold up Wonwoo’s weight.

Jun smiled apologetically at you as they shifted Wonwoo’s arm off your shoulder. “He seems like a handful, but he’s nice sometimes.”

You stepped back, watching them as they wrangled him toward a black pickup truck. “He doesn’t seem that drunk, though.”

Jun chuckled. “You’d be surprised. One time he got wasted and started working on a coding project. Finished the whole thing in one sitting.”

“Didn’t even remember it the next day,” Hoshi added, making a mock exploding gesture at his temple.

You couldn’t help laughing, finding it both amusing and adorable that a fine man like him would have such drinking habits.

“Anyway, thanks again,” Hoshi said, flashing you a quick grin as they started loading Wonwoo into the truck.

“Bye, gorgeous lady!” Wonwoo called from the back seat, waving weakly. “I love you!”

Jun scoffed. “You don’t even know her name.”

“Who cares what you think, Jun? You’re a fake friend!”

You couldn’t help but laugh again, waving them off as the truck pulled away. Standing there, you found yourself thinking about Wonwoo—strangely intrigued by this cute, clumsy guy. But before you could dwell on it for too long, you heard Lea’s voice calling your name from inside the house.

“Why are you out here alone? Let’s go!”

You skipped toward her, linking arms as she pulled you inside. “I just met the cutest guy ever.”

If Seungcheol’s face wasn’t the first thing you saw as you stepped into the pool pavilion, you wouldn’t have recognized him at all. His neat blue suit from yesterday had been swapped for something far more relaxed—crisp white pants and a cream button-up that made him look more… approachable. He greeted you the moment you arrived, gesturing to the lounge chair beside his.

“I ordered cocktails,” he said, motioning to the bellinis on the table. “But I took liberties since I didn’t know what you like.”

“You didn’t have to include me, but thanks,” you smiled, taking one of the flutes.

Seungcheol watched you take your first sip before saying, “So, what depressing tale would you be telling me today?”

You coughed, choking very slightly on your drink. “You said you wouldn’t judge.”

He shrugged, leaning back on the chair and fixing his eyes at the infinity pool. “I wasn’t judging. My expectations are based on past experiences. In this case, the experience was yesterday’s story. It was quite heavy.”

“Exactly,” you nodded, setting your glass down. “Yesterday was intense, so I’m dialing it down today with a lighter story about my favorite ex.”

“You have a favorite ex?”

“As a matter of fact, I do,” you replied, rolling your eyes. “But that’s not the point. Do you wanna  hear it or not?”

Seungcheol nodded. “Please. Proceed.”

“Alright.” You took a sip of your drink before starting. “His name is Jeon Wonwoo.”

THE DAY after you'd first met him at that party, you’d prioritized looking for Wonwoo. Living in the on-campus dorms gave you time to walk around the campus before your class. The problem was, you didn’t know where to start. Your friends could swear they were sick of you, gushing about him and retelling the story of how he called you gorgeous and basically confessed his love for you in under five minutes of meeting each other.

“I know he was drunk, Jill. But people say you become more honest when you’re drunk,” you insisted, not even trying to hide your excitement as you scanned the cafeteria for any sign of him.

“What’s his name anyway?” Mina asked, scowling slightly as she watched you crane your neck, practically spinning in your seat. 

“Wonwoo. I don’t know his last name.”

Mina scoffed. “Wonwoo? Aren’t you like neighbors?”

You stopped mid-scan, turning to her with wide eyes. “We’re WHAT?”

As it turned out, Wonwoo lived in the on-campus dorm too. He and Hoshi were roommates, and you only knew this because, apparently, the guy Mina just had to meet at last night’s party was Hoshi. 

“You’re telling me I’ve been looking around campus for him like a lunatic when he’s been right under my nose this whole time?” you asked, clutching your pearls.

Jill snorted into her iced coffee. “You’ve been obsessed for, what? Twelve hours?”

“Thirteen,” you corrected. “But who’s counting?”

For a while, you tried catching glimpses of Wonwoo around your apartment complex. You even took slightly longer routes on campus, hoping to spot him by chance between classes or during meals. But every time, you came up empty—no sign of him at all.

“Just where does this hot specimen hide his gorgeous self?” you grumbled. “It’s been three days.”

Lea watched you with a glimmer in her eyes. “This is a first. You’ve had crushes before but never hyper-fixated on one until now.”

“Right? I was just thinking the same thing,” Jill affirmed.

“There’s no one like him,” you gushed, tilting your head dreamily. “I think he might be the one.”

Mina choked on her drink. “You’re not serious.”

You laughed, stroking her back gently. “Of course not. I’m just having fun, guys. Relax.”

“Anyway, why don’t you just ask Hoshi?” Jill suggested, sounding like the only sane one in the group. 

Oh. Right. Hoshi. Why didn’t you think of that earlier? You paused, considering the idea. It was practical. Sensible.

“Do you think that’s weird? Just asking out of nowhere?” you asked, biting your lip.

“You’re the one who’s been running around campus like a headless chicken,” Mina pointed out dryly. “Asking Hoshi would be a lot less weird than that.”

You smiled at Mina, batting your eyelashes prettily. “Ask him for me.”

Mina swatted your hand away when you tried to hold her. “We’re not talking right now. And no, I won’t tell you why.”

You grimaced. “Well, no one’s asking!”

Jill laughed. “Just go to Hoshi. You guys are friends. And it’s not like you’re asking for Wonwoo’s hand in marriage. You’re just curious.”

“Alright, alright,” you relented, standing up from the table. “I’ll ask Hoshi.”

Mina gave you a thumbs up as you left the cafeteria, heading out to start your quest. You just hoped your heart didn’t explode from the anticipation before you got there.

You spotted Hoshi in the dance room, drinking water after practice. Perfect. You strode over, determined but trying to keep it cool. He saw you coming and grinned, clearly already knowing what this was about.

“Well, well, well,” Hoshi said, putting his bottle down and crossing his arms with a smirk. “What brings you to my humble corner of campus today? Or should I say... who?”

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t help laughing. “Oh, stop. I just wanna ask you something.”

“Uh-huh,” he said, leaning in conspiratorially. “You’re about to ask me where Wonwoo is, aren’t you? Don’t worry, I’ve seen this before. You’re already head over heels. It’s okay, it’s a common reaction.”

You tried to look annoyed, but your lips twitched, betraying you. “Fine. Yes. Where is he?”

Hoshi raised his eyebrows, looking overly impressed with himself. “See? I’m basically psychic. I should be charging for my services.”

“Just tell me!” You lightly shoved him.

“Okay, okay,” he chuckled, clearly enjoying himself. “He’s usually holed up in the tech building, doing nerd stuff. You know, coding, hacking the mainframe, whatever those guys do.” He waved a hand in the air. “Oh, and I’m gonna tell you this only because you and I are tight—you’re gonna need to bring a snack. Wonwoo’s been known to forget to eat when he’s in the zone.”

You crossed your arms, half-joking but half-serious. “What’s that supposed to mean? Do I need to worry about him starving to death before I even get the chance to talk to him?”

“Maybe,” Hoshi said, eyes twinkling. “But hey, if he does, I’ll make sure his last words are something romantic. Like, ‘Tell her... she was... gorgeous.’”

“Oh my god, you’re impossible,” you groaned, turning to walk away, though you couldn’t help laughing.

He called after you, still grinning. “Don’t say I didn’t warn you! And hey—if you need a wingman, you know where to find me!”

Now you had a solid lead... and maybe a ridiculous wingman if things got really desperate. But most importantly, you had a plan: bump into him casually.

You spent the next few days timing your trips past the IT building. At first, it felt silly—pretending like you were just ‘happening to walk by’—but today, your patience paid off. There he was, standing just outside the doors, tapping away on his phone. Your heart fluttered the second you saw Wonwoo, that same flush you remembered from the night before creeping up your neck.

You were about to walk over, but then a group of people spilled out from the building, laughing loudly as they passed by Wonwoo. You turned away, worried someone might recognize you. As soon as they were far enough, you spun back to see Wonwoo, only to find him gone.

You sighed. “Next time.”

The next time came—several next times, actually. You just couldn’t land the perfect opportunity! The universe was against you, you could swear with how each encounter was always interrupted by other people, unexpected circumstances, and now, even the weather!

You stared at the sky with a deadpan expression. “Really? Just tell me you don’t want me to shoot my shot with him, why don’t you?” you spoke to the sky, as if it would respond.

You were supposed to do your routine attempt at ‘bumping into Wonwoo’ but the rain started pouring right when you stepped out of your building. As if that wasn’t bad enough, you didn’t bring an umbrella with you. You sighed, scuffing your shoe against the pavement, debating whether to make a run for it or just wait it out.

“Maybe I’m just unlucky?” you muttered to yourself.

Staring at your feet, you noticed a new pair falling into step beside you. You looked up and gasped audibly upon seeing Jeon Wonwoo standing there with an umbrella in his hand. He looked as handsome as you remembered—neat appearance, well-kept hair, and his glasses that suited his face perfectly.

“Wonwoo!” you exclaimed, making him glance at you.

He scanned you for a second. “I’m sorry. I don’t think I know you.”

You told him your name—clearly and in full. “We met at the party last Friday,” you smiled, hoping he’d remember.

“Oh, I met a lot of people that night.”

“You called me nice and gorgeous?” you offered, gouging a reaction from him, but so far—nothing. “And, uh, you also kinda said you love me.”

Wonwoo blinked, clearly taken aback. “Did I?” You saw the confusion in his expression, followed by a flicker of embarrassment. He looked away, his jaw tensing slightly. “Sorry, I don’t remember any of that,” he said, his voice softer, but there was no warmth in it. It felt more like a brush-off.

“Yeah, it’s okay,” you said, waving it off casually. “You were really drunk, so I guess it makes sense.” You grinned, hoping the playful tone might make the moment less embarrassing

He seemed like an entirely different person. He was fun that night, sweet even. Was that a one-off thing?

For a moment, neither of you spoke. The sound of the rain pounding on the concrete was oddly loud. You could feel your heart hammering in your chest, not entirely sure if you should say something or just let it go.

“Well, then. I should go.”

You nodded. “Of course. It was nice seeing you.”

You watched him walk into the rain, dry and safe under his umbrella. You couldn’t help but scoff. If it was the Wonwoo you’d met that night, he would probably share his umbrella with you.

“What a bummer,” you muttered, looking down at your feet again as you kicked your tiptoes on the floor. 

You kept your gaze there, replaying the encounter with Wonwoo and how awful it made you feel. You barely noticed the car that pulled over in front of you until you heard someone call your full name.

When you looked up, you saw Wonwoo in a car with his window rolled down. He turned to reach for something behind him before extending his umbrella out to you. You stepped into the rain for a second to grab it and then backed away with a confused look on your face.

“Thank you,” you called out.

He just nodded, lips tight. “Leave it to the dorm lady when you’re done with it.”

“I will!” you replied, smiling at him.

As he drove away, you waved your hand in the air, your smile getting impossibly wider as you clutched his umbrella in one hand.

Just like that, your quest to make Jeon Wonwoo fall for you was on. You chased him around—well, not really, but you seized every chance to talk to him. First, you personally delivered his umbrella to his dorm, which surprised him because obviously, he wasn’t expecting it.

When you found him at the cafeteria that day, sitting alone at a table while working on something on his laptop, you walked over with your tray and casually slid into the seat across from him.

“You look like you could use some company. Lucky for you, I could use some too. Let’s accompany each other,” you beamed, and he looked up from his laptop briefly—just to see who you were.

“I’m working,” he said, reverting his attention to his work.

You leaned forward with a grin. “I can multi-task. Do you want me to be quiet while you work?”

“Do what you want,” he said, noncommittal.

That made you perk up. As long as he didn’t tell you to leave him alone, you were fine with being quiet. He was quiet too, but didn’t seem to mind your presence. So you stayed, eating your lunch while on your phone and occasionally sneaking glances at him.

One time, you find him at the library sitting at a table with his headphones in, immersed in whatever he was working on on his screen, again. You plopped down next to him, spreading your books out.

“It appears you might need some intellectual stimulation. I’m excellent company for that too,” you said.

Without looking away from his screen, Wonwoo said, “Pass.”

“Are you coding?” you asked, ignoring his refusal.

“I'm studying.”

“For what?” you asked, leaning back to take a peek at his screen. “You're reading a book on your laptop?”

“It's convenient.”

You grimaced. “I bet you don't know what books smell like.”

“No, and I don't really wanna know,” he said, facing you. “Now, can I have some peace and quiet?”

“Oh, of course. Sorry. I’ll just be over here being pretty and smart. Don’t mind me.”

He didn’t respond, just nodded slightly, continuing to work. You watched him for a bit, playfully resting your chin in your hand.

“Wow. My man is so cute and smart,” you muttered and Wonwoo suddenly glanced sideways at you.

You looked away immediately, opening a book, and burying your face in it. Wonwoo reached for it, taking it out of your hand and flipping it.

“It’s upside down,” he said before fixing his gaze on his screen again.

If it wasn’t for your prior commitment to your friends, you would probably stay in the library until he leaves. Half-heartedly, you packed away your books and got ready to leave. Wonwoo noticed you then but didn’t say anything.

You tapped on the table next to his laptop, making him take off his headphones and look at you inquiringly.

“I was thinking of watching a movie this weekend. You’re welcome to join me.”

Wonwoo raised an eyebrow. “I don’t watch movies.”

You shook your head disapprovingly. “Guess we’ll have to change that about you.”

“Good luck with that,” he replied, putting his headphones back on.

He didn’t seem put off by your forwardness, which was all that mattered to you because it didn’t seem like you were bothering him. You were resolved to continue what you were doing.

Another time, you saw him at the gym when you were there with your friends. He was lifting weights, and you confidently strode over, showing off your figure in your gym outfit. You casually leaned over the machine he was using.

“Wow, so you’re not just working out your brain, you work out your biceps too? Impressive,” you complimented.

“I come here to avoid conversations,” he deadpanned.

“You’re still talking to me, so you’re not really doing a great job,” you chuckled.

Wonwoo sighed, but again, he didn’t tell you to leave. He just continued what he was doing, and you watched for a minute, smirking. You were enjoying yourself, despite his lack of reactions.

“I’ll be over there if you need me,” you said, winking.

“Why would I need you?” he asked, resting his hands for a second.

You shrugged. “You never know when you might.”

As you walked away, your friends were waiting for you with playful smiles. Mina said, “Girl, is it just me or are you kinda embarrassing?”

You scrunched your nose cutely at her. “I am, kinda. But it’s okay. He’ll warm up to me soon.”

You kept ‘accidentally’ bumping into him at random spots—by the vending machine, dorm hallways, the library aisles, or even walking to class despite being in different buildings. 

Sometimes, you felt a little embarrassed, but you liked how fun it was to tease him and flirt with him, despite his aloof attitude. He was gonna break sooner or later, and whatever he decided to do when that happened, you were prepared to accept. You had projected about a dozen different scenarios of him confronting you, but the reality was far more unique.

“Look at us, fate keeps putting us together. Ever think the universe is trying to tell you something?” you told Wonwoo when you coincidentally (for real this time), ended up in the same college seminar together.

He stared at you. “The universe doesn’t work that way.”

Unfazed, you shrugged, opening your laptop. “Maybe not, but it’s more fun to believe it does.”

Wonwoo closed his laptop and turned his body slightly toward you. “Do you have feelings for me?”

“Yes,” you replied without missing a beat. “Wasn’t it obvious? I made sure you’d get the message though.”

He was quiet for a while, staring at you with a blank expression. After about thirty seconds, he asked, “Why?”

You shrugged, keeping your smile. “Because I do. Hey, you confessed your love to me first!”

“When did I—” he stopped and then sighed. “I don’t even remember any of that.”

“It’s okay. I remember enough for the both of us,” you teased, tilting your head with an innocent smile.

Wonwoo seemed to realize arguing wasn’t going to get him anywhere. He shook his head slowly, as if accepting defeat. “Do whatever you want, but I won’t take responsibility for your assumptions.”

“You’re not telling me to leave you alone?” you asked, raising your brows in genuine surprise.

He looked at you, baffled. “What?”

“You’re not telling me to leave you alone,” you repeated, this time more matter-of-factly. “So can I take that as a sign that I can keep following you around?”

Wonwoo grimaced, though it was more out of exasperation than irritation. “You’re not seriously going to follow me everywhere, are you?”

You grinned mischievously. “No, not really. But now that you mention it, maybe I should. What do you think?”

“Well then, leave—”

“Good afternoon, sir,” you exclaimed upon seeing the professor walk in.

You lay sprawled on Lea’s bed, eyes fixed on the ceiling, scowling. Next to you, Lea was perched on her stomach, typing away on her laptop.

“The guy’s a tough nut to crack,” you muttered, shaking your head in frustration. “Do you think… maybe he’s just not interested?”

“I thought he made that pretty clear with how he keeps brushing you off?” Lea replied, not looking up from her screen.

You sat up with a sigh just as Mina and Jill strolled into the room. “He doesn’t really brush me off though,” you argued. “More like… he lets me do whatever I want.”

“You guys talking about Wonwoo?” Mina asked and you nodded. “Hoshi is inviting him over for movie night. Apparently, he said ‘yes’.”

Your jaw dropped. “No way? He said he didn't like movies!”

Mina nodded, pulling out her phone and flashing you the screen. “I don't know the details. Hosh says he’s wingmanning you,” she added with a grin.

You squealed, grabbing Lea by the arm. “Quick! Lend me a cute dress. No! I should just go back to my dorm and get one!”

“It’s a pajama party,” Jill interrupted, sitting beside you with a bowl of ice cream in hand. “You’re supposed to wear pajamas.”

You paused, considering. “Yes, but... like, do you have a cute nightgown? Those count as pajamas too, right?”

“I do,” Jill said, shaking her head, “but I’m not lending it to you. You’ll just complain about being cold.”

You slumped back onto the bed dramatically, face-first. “Friendship is dead. It never existed.”

Lea gasped. “Jill! Not you eating ice cream on my bed!”

“Oops, sorry!” Jill mumbled, quickly getting off the bed.

You rose when you heard ice cream, following Jill off the bed and asking to share. Mina was watching you with a soft smile on her lips. Then she said, “You changed a lot, did you notice? Remember when you took a break from school when we were freshmen? You were so different back then.”

You rolled your eyes playfully, mouth full of ice cream. Jill answered for you. “That part of her life was her character development arc. It wouldn’t make sense to remind her of such a depressing time when she’s done a really good job getting over it a long time ago.” 

You shot her a pair of finger guns and winked, appreciating the save.

“You’re right,” Mina said, her expression softening as she came over to hug you. “I’m just so proud of you.”

Jill joined in the hug, and Lea followed soon after, sandwiching you in the middle.

Feeling warm and fuzzy, you leaned over and kissed Mina’s cheek, only for her to pull away, grimacing. “Ew, sticky lips,” she complained, wiping the smudge of ice cream from her face.

“Sorry,” you grinned, unapologetic.

The smell of popcorn filled the apartment as you rummaged through Lea’s closet, pulling out a cozy sweatshirt that still looked stylish enough for the movie night. “This will have to do,” you muttered, tugging it on over your pajamas.

Lea, now in a matching set of flannel, raised an eyebrow. “You really think Wonwoo’s gonna notice your outfit at a pajama party?”

“I don’t know,” you admitted with a shrug. “But it’s better to be prepared.”

When you got back to the living room, the usual chaos of movie night was already in full swing. Hoshi and Jun were bickering over what movie to watch while Seokmin raided the snack stash.

Hoshi called out your name, waving you over with a mischievous grin. “Look who actually showed up.”

You froze mid-step. Wonwoo was sitting on the couch, casually leaning back with his arms folded across his chest, looking as aloof as ever. He was wearing pajamas, which was unexpected because you didn't think he'd be the type to engage in silly activities like this one, but he was cute nonetheless.

You blinked. “He’s real,” you whispered, eyes wide, and Mina stifled a laugh. To Hoshi, you said out loud, “Hosh, you’re my most favorite person in the world.”

Just as you were about to claim the spot next to Wonwoo, Jun swooped in and plopped down right where you were headed. Without thinking, you grabbed Jun by the arm. “Move!”

Jun blinked at you, laughing. “What’s going on?”

You picked up a throw pillow and hit Jun with it again and again until he moved out of your way.

“You’re ruthless,” Jun chuckled, shaking his head but laughing anyway. “Good luck.”

“Thanks,” you winked at him before turning to Wonwoo. He watched the whole thing unfold with mild amusement, shaking his head as you settled in.

“Comfortable?” he asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Very,” you grinned, inching just a little closer to him. “Fancy seeing you here. I didn’t think you’d really show up. And in pajamas, no less,” you said, flashing him a wide grin.

Wonwoo glanced at his clothes briefly. “Hoshi insisted,” he said flatly.

“Well, I’m glad you came,” you said, batting your eyelashes in what you hoped was a cute way. “It’s not every day I get to sit next to my favorite person.”

Wonwoo raised an eyebrow, unamused. “I thought Hoshi was your favorite.”

You pouted. “You’re no fun, you know that?”

“Wasn’t trying to be,” he replied, unbothered.

Determined to get some sort of reaction, you leaned closer, pretending to examine his face. “Do you always wear glasses?” you asked, feigning curiosity. “They make you look extra smart.”

He pushed his glasses up his nose, side-eyeing you. “I am extra smart.”

You giggled, undeterred. “I bet you’re super smart, Mr. IT Genius. You could probably hack into all our phones right now.”

Wonwoo didn’t seem fazed. “I’m not that smart. And hacking is illegal.”

“Well, that’s good. Otherwise, you’d see all the photos I took of you before,” you teased, leaning even closer so your shoulder brushed his. “For research purposes, of course.”

This time, Wonwoo did look at you, but only briefly. “Research for what?”

“Oh, just, you know,” you waved a hand vaguely, “studying the behavior of elusive, handsome introverts.”

“Sounds like a waste of time,” he replied dryly, though his lips twitched into a faint smile. You’d almost missed it if you weren’t staring right at him.

You grinned, feeling triumphant at his tiny show of amusement. “Did I just make you smile? Am I your source of happiness and joy now?”

“Just what is up with you?” he questioned, genuinely bewildered.

“I’m persistent. Haven’t you noticed?”

“I have.”

Before you could respond, Hoshi’s voice boomed across the room. “Movie’s starting, everyone! Grab your snacks, get cozy!”

The lights dimmed further, and the opening credits began to roll. You wiggled in your seat, purposely leaning just a little closer to Wonwoo, your head brushing against his arm. Wonwoo glanced at you but didn’t say anything, so you tilted your head playfully and whispered, “You’re not gonna move away, are you?”

He looked away, clearly unimpressed. “Why would I?”

“I don’t know… because I’m annoying?”

“You are,” he said, eyes fixed on the screen.

“Hey!” You nudged him with your shoulder, a mock pout on your lips. “I’m charmingly annoying.”

“If you say so,” he replied.

Every now and then, you’d make little comments, trying to catch his attention. Wonwoo remained mostly unresponsive, only glancing at you occasionally, but he didn’t seem bothered either. In fact, the more you nudged him or commented, the more relaxed he seemed.

Finally, you ‘accidentally’ let your head rest on his shoulder. “Oops,” you whispered, eyes still fixed on the screen. “My bad.”

Wonwoo sighed, but to your surprise, he didn’t push you off. “You’re really pushing your luck tonight.”

You grinned up at him, batting your lashes. “What can I say? I like taking my chances.”

“Just watch the movie,” he muttered, but you could tell—he didn’t actually mind.

With a satisfied smile, you snuggled a little closer, content with your minor victory. 

After the movie, everyone stretched and yawned. Hoshi and Seokmin were already debating what to watch next, while Jill and Lea were dramatically complaining about the lackluster conclusion to the movie. You continued the night with laughter and conversations over light drinks. It was a school day, so no one was entertaining the idea of getting wasted.

You glanced at Wonwoo, who had stayed quiet throughout the night, except for a few quips here and there. You often flirted with him in between conversations, but as usual, he couldn’t even be bothered.

When the group started to pack up, you took a deep breath and turned to him. “Hey, do you wanna walk back to the dorms together?” you asked, keeping your tone light and hopeful.

You were the only ones going back to the dorms, since the rest of your friends lived off-campus, and Hoshi was obviously staying over at Mina’s.

Wonwoo stood up, gathering his things without making eye contact. “No, thanks,” he said simply, pulling his jacket over his shoulder. “I’ll head back on my own.”

Your heart sank a little, but you didn’t want to let it show. “Okay, sure,” you said quickly, trying to brush it off with a casual laugh. “Didn’t think you’d say yes anyway.”

He paused for a moment, adjusting his jacket before looking at you with a slight frown. “I just don’t think it’s a good idea,” he said, his voice firm but not unkind. “You don’t need to follow me around.”

The words stung more than you expected, even though you’d been joking about it all night. You opened your mouth to reply, but nothing came out. Instead, you just nodded, forcing a small smile. “Got it.”

Wonwoo gave a short nod, then turned and headed for the door without a second glance. As you watched him leave, the lightheartedness you’d felt earlier fizzled out. You knew he wasn’t trying to be cruel, but his rejection still hurt. You’d pushed and pushed all night, and for a moment, it felt like maybe he was warming up to you. But now, it seemed like you had been wrong all along.

Mina noticed your shift in mood and walked over. “Hey, you okay?”

You plastered on a smile, shrugging nonchalantly. “Yeah, I’m fine. I’ll head back now. See you guys tomorrow, okay?”

Your farewell was noisy, with your girls dramatically begging you to stay. There was a big smile on your lips when you exited the door, but as you headed back to your dorm, thoughts of Wonwoo’s words stayed with you. 

Maybe this little game of flirting wasn’t as fun for him as it was for you. Maybe you were pushing too hard. Maybe this was more one-sided than you wanted to admit. It had been fun for the most part, a lighthearted chase that kept your heart racing, but now it was starting to feel tiring—draining, even.

Your brows furrowed in frustration. “I should stop…” you muttered under your breath, kicking at a stray pebble in your path. Then, with a small pout, you crossed your arms tightly over your chest. “Men ain’t shit,” you grumbled, though the bitterness in your voice didn’t quite match the half-hearted way you said it.

“Now, now, sweetheart,” said a greasy, slurred voice from behind you, giving you goosebumps all over. “You don’t really mean that, do you?”

How deeply distracted were you that you didn’t notice the dragged-out footsteps behind you? 

You tried to brush it off, but when the pace quickened and the slurred voice called out again, you got ready to run. Before you could, however, he grabbed your arm.

“Not so fast, sweetheart,” the man drawled, his breath reeking of alcohol as he eyed you. “What’s a pretty girl like you doin’ out here all alone?”

You shot him a sharp glance, trying to ignore the knot tightening in your stomach. “I’m not interested. Leave me alone,” you said, trying to swat his hand away but his grip tightened.

“I’m not so bad, am I? C’mon—just a little company,” he slurred.

You yanked your hand back, eyes narrowing as you tried to fight him off. “Let go!” you snapped, your voice rising in panic.

The man chuckled, tugging you toward him. “What’s the rush?”

With a rush of adrenaline, you elbowed him in the ribs and stomped on his foot with all the force you could muster. But despite your efforts, he was stronger, and your heart pounded as he forced you back against a wall, your breath catching in your throat.

Just as you started to fear you couldn’t fight him off, a sharp voice cut through the air. “Hey!”

Before you could process what was happening, Wonwoo appeared, eyes blazing with fury. He swung a solid punch, landing it squarely on the guy’s jaw. The man stumbled, dazed, before collapsing to the ground with a heavy thud.

You stared in shock, chest heaving, barely registering the fact that Wonwoo had just knocked the guy out. He reached for your hand, his grip firm but reassuring. “Let’s go,” he said, his voice calmer now, though still laced with urgency. “Before he gets back up. Come on.”

Grabbing his hand, you ran with him, your pajamas flapping awkwardly as the two of you bolted down the street. Imagine getting harassed in oversized Pucca pajamas? The ridiculousness of the situation would’ve made you laugh if you weren’t so shaken.  

Your heart was still pounding, and you could feel Wonwoo’s hand tightening around yours as you rounded the corner, not stopping until you were safely back inside the campus walls.

When you finally slowed down, panting, you glanced at him. “You just—” you started, still breathless, “You punched him!”

Wonwoo looked at you, still catching his breath. “Yeah.”

The simple acknowledgment sent a strange warmth through you. You both stood there for a moment, the adrenaline fading. You were still catching your breath, trying to process everything that had just happened. 

“Thank you,” you breathed out. “You really saved me back there.”

“I think you would’ve done well by yourself even if I wasn’t there. You probably broke a rib or two with that elbow,” he quipped, a small smile tugging at his lips.

“Is that a joke?” you questioned, pointing at his lips. “Are laughing at your own joke?”

He looked at you, his expression shifting back to his usual. “I didn’t laugh. Next time, be more careful. Don’t walk by yourself at night.” His voice was steady, almost scolding, but there was an unmistakable note of concern in it. 

You blinked up at him, feeling your heart flutter in a way that had nothing to do with the scare you just had. He had just knocked out a guy without breaking a sweat, and now he was here, telling you to be careful. You couldn’t help it—the admiration in your eyes must’ve been painfully obvious because you were falling even harder for him. 

Wonwoo noticed your dazed expression, the way your eyes lingered on him a little too long. His brow furrowed slightly before he sighed, clearly not amused by whatever was going through your head. Without saying a word, he took off his jacket and threw it over your face.

“Go back to your room,” he muttered, his voice carrying a hint of exasperation. “And stop being weird.”

You pulled his jacket off your face, blinking up at him with a grin, but he was already turning away, clearly done with the situation.

“Hey! Wait for me! What if he comes back?” you called out, running to catch up to him.

This wasn’t part of the plan. You were doing just fine on the sidelines of college life, navigating the highs and lows of being a student. You were content not drawing attention to yourself in places that didn’t need your presence, happily enjoying the fun college functions from a distance.

Why did you have to join the student council on a whim?

“I’m so sick of this,” you muttered, hauling a large box of banners back into the storage room. Someone else could do it if only there were other hands available to help. Frustrated, you kicked the box, only to recoil in pain when it slammed against your foot. “Ouch!”

“Move,” came a familiar voice from behind you. You glanced back just as Wonwoo pushed you aside, his movements smooth and efficient. With ease, he picked up the box and carried it to the storage room. You followed him, a wide smile creeping onto your lips.

“Thanks a lot,” you said, genuine gratitude lighting up your tone.

Wonwoo gave you a side-eye. “Next time, ask other people for help if you can’t do it by yourself.”

“There was no one to ask! Everyone’s busy with other stuff,” you defended, pouting at being scolded.

“You didn’t ask me.”

“You were busy too!”

“Then you should’ve waited until I was done.”

“What are you so mad about? I didn’t ask because you were busy, and you’re not even in the council to begin with. This isn’t your job.”

Wonwoo sighed, turning away. You followed him out, trying to keep up with his long strides. When he stopped, you halted too, glancing up at him. He stared at you for a moment, inspecting your appearance with an intensity that made your heart flutter.

“Are you checking me out?” you quipped, knowing how he’d react.

Wonwoo scoffed. “Are you heading back to the dorm now?” he asked, and you nodded. “Wait here,” he said before climbing up the sound box to fetch his backpack. When he came back down, he pulled out a jacket and handed it to you.

“Oh, I’m good. I have a jacket in my bag,” you chimed, dismissing it.

“Forget it, then,” he said, putting it away, but you stopped him.

“No! I’ll take it! Mine’s not warm enough,” you grinned. “Thank you!”

Wonwoo’s deadpan expression remained as he rolled his eyes. “Go get your things. We’re leaving.”

You blinked, confusion washing over you. “Huh? Are we leaving together?”

“We’re going the same way anyway. Might as well just go together,” he said, glancing away with a slight furrow in his brows. “You might get yourself in trouble again.”

“We’re on the campus, I don’t think anyone would try something like that here,” you stated, but you couldn’t help smiling. 

After what happened the other day, Wonwoo seemed to be warming up to you now. It felt good to know that he cared enough to walk home with you and ensure nothing happened again.

“If you don’t want to, suit yourself,” he said, turning his back.

“No, wait! Let’s go!”

You rushed back to where you’d left your things, bidding hurried goodbyes to your student council friends. When you returned, Wonwoo was still waiting for you. He sighed at the sight of your massive grin and started walking first, so you ran to catch up with him.

“Wait for me,” you called, giggling as you intertwined your fingers with his. He didn’t shake you off.

“Put the jacket on. It’s cold.”

“Oooh, Jeon Wonwoo,” you teased, peeking at his face. “Are you trying to get promoted to green flag?”

“I’m not a red flag,” he said monotonously.

“When did I say you were?”

“You kept implying it.”

You chuckled lightly. “You know, I heard that people who claim that they’re not a red flag tend to be… well, a red flag.”

“Just wear the jacket. I don’t want to be responsible for you if you get hypothermia.”

You pouted, backing away to put on the jacket. As you did, you unlinked your fingers with his but Wonwoo chased after it, tightening his hold. “Let go. I need to put this on.”

“Huh?” he blurted, retracting his hand like he’d been electrified. His fingers slipped away too quickly, but the warmth lingered on your skin.

“Do you hate it that much?” you scoffed as you wore his jacket. It was warm and smelled like him. “And no one’s getting hypothermia in this weather. It’s not that cold.”

“Can’t we just walk quietly and pretend we don’t know each other?”

“No, we can’t,” you chimed, linking your arms with his. “It’s impossible because we look like a couple right now.”

“No, we don’t.”

“Yes, we do,” you sang, leaning your head on his shoulder as the two of you strolled down the dimly lit pathway. You allowed yourself to savor the moment, your steps perfectly in sync with his, a warmth spreading in your chest as you walked together under the soft glow of the pathway lights.

The school festival was coming up, and you got to work with Wonwoo on the preparations—you as a student council member, and him with the IT Club. Your tasks were different, not overlapping at all but you were content just being in the same space with him. 

While Wonwoo worked with a clubmate on the sound systems, you were assigned to help with decorations and logistics. Despite your tasks not overlapping, you made a point to stroll by his area often, a smile lighting up your face whenever your eyes met. Wonwoo would only nod to acknowledge you, but each exchange was a little jolt of happiness for you.

The hours passed in a blur of laughter and hard work. You organized tables, hung streamers, and made sure everything was in its right place, all while stealing glances at Wonwoo and his team.

During a break, you found yourself near the sound booth, leaning against the wall to catch your breath. Wonwoo was adjusting a microphone, and you couldn’t help but watch. He looked effortlessly cool, his concentration making him even more attractive.

“Don’t just stand there, you’re making me nervous,” he teased when he noticed you staring.

You flushed, momentarily caught off guard. “Just appreciating the view!” you shot back with a grin.

“Right,” he deadpanned, shaking his head. “Just don’t break anything.”

“Oh please, I’m the master of decorations! No broken things here!” you replied with mock seriousness.

As the day wore on, the festival started to take shape, and your excitement grew. You loved this sense of unity, the way everyone worked together to bring a festival to remember. It was very tiring, wearing out your bodies with work and your minds with how much you kept brainstorming for the best ideas. But as the sun began to set, and the field was transformed into a magical scene with the glow of fairy lights, all your labor had been worth it.

“Looks great,” Wonwoo said, suddenly at your side.

You nodded, unable to suppress your grin. “It does, doesn’t it? You guys did a great job too. The LED displays are cool.”

“We did what we do best. You guys at the student council worked harder, coming up with cool ideas and stuff,” he replied, giving you an appreciative nod.

Feeling a rush of warmth at his compliment, you could only smile. “Let’s just say we make a great team—each in our own way.”

Wonwoo shrugged. “Some of the council guys were a bit pompous and bossy but, yeah, you’re right.”

You laughed at that, hitting his arm and letting your hand stay there. Wonwoo didn’t flinch, even flashing a small smile as you both stared at the fruit of your labor.

The school festival was finally here, and the campus was alive with excitement. You could feel the energy in the air, the smell of food wafting from the stalls, and the cheerful sound of laughter and chatter. 

The day kicked off with a formal ceremony in the main courtyard—with the school band playing a march. Students and faculty gathered under a large banner that read Welcome to the 00 University Festival! You stood with your friends, cheering as the college president gave a short speech about the importance of community and collaboration.

“Let the festivities begin!” he concluded, and the crowd erupted into applause.

As the ceremony ended, you raced to the game booths that had been set up around the campus. Your friends challenged each other to various games—ring toss, balloon darts, and a giant inflatable obstacle course. The laughter was infectious, and you lost track of time as you tried your hand at each game, reveling in the thrill of friendly competition.

In between the fun, you made your way to the sound booth, where Wonwoo and Jihoon were busy setting up for the afternoon performances. 

“Snacks for the most hardworking people on the whole campus,” you called out, showing them the containers of food and drinks.

“Thanks a lot!” Jihoon said with a bright smile, taking a snack before returning to his controls. “You’re so thoughtful.”

Wonwoo, on the other hand, merely nodded, a small smile breaking through his serious demeanor. “Thanks,” he said, taking a sip from the drink you brought him.

“You guys are doing an amazing job! Can’t wait for the party tonight!” you exclaimed, your excitement bubbling over.

“We’ll make sure it’s a good one,” Jihoon replied, his enthusiasm infectious.

“Are you kidding me? DJ Woozi is here. I know it’s gonna be a good one,” you chimed, pointing finger guns at Jihoon.

The latter couldn’t help grinning at your compliment. “You should come over more often! It’s not all boring work here.”

“Oh, of course. I’ll be here often. Gotta make sure you stay hydrated. You’ll need the energy to keep up with the crowd.”

Jihoon tilted his head slightly, unconvinced. “Pretty sure Wonwoo will appreciate it,” he chuckled, nudging Wonwoo’s arm.

You just smiled, winking at Wonwoo before you bid your goodbyes and promised them you’d be back. 

As the afternoon rolled in, the booths and games continued. You lost yourself in the fun, but each time you never forgot to stop by the sound booth, checking in on Wonwoo—and Jihoon because he happened to be there too.

“Want a break?” you asked during one of your visits. “You’ve been at it for hours!”

Wonwoo looked at you, the serious expression on his face softening slightly. “I’m good. Just need to make sure everything is perfect for tonight.”

You nodded, admiring his dedication. “Well, I brought more snacks,” you said, pulling out the waffles you got from one of the booths.

“Thanks,” Jihoon said, taking the bag with a grateful smile.

Soon, the day transitioned into the evening. Students gathered around the stage, and the sounds of music filled the campus. You joined your friends, dancing and enjoying the beats as Jihoon—moniker, Woozi got the crowd hyped.

You could see Wonwoo in the sound booth, focused on the music, and your heart swelled with admiration. Every now and then, you made your way back to him, offering him drinks or just sharing a quick laugh about something funny happening in the crowd.

“Having fun?” he asked during one of your visits, his gaze momentarily leaving the controls.

“Definitely! This is amazing!” you replied, breathless from dancing.

“Good. Just keep your distance from the speakers,” he said and you could see a playful glint in his eyes despite his deadpan expression.

“Don’t worry, I’m not here to break anything,” you shot back, grinning.

The night continued to unfold, filled with dancing, laughter, and an electric atmosphere. Later, when the party wound down and the crowd began to disperse, the working group gathered again for a final clean-up.

“I can’t believe how well everything turned out,” you said, looking around at the remnants of the festival.

“Yeah, it was a success,” Jihoon replied, glancing at you. “Thanks for all your help today.”

“Of course! It was so much fun being part of it,” you said, feeling a warmth spread through you.

The student council president clapped his hands together to grab everyone’s attention. “Before we call it a night, how about we plan a weekend escapade to celebrate our hard work? A little break after all this?”

Cheers erupted from the group, and you felt your heart race at the thought of spending more time with everyone, especially with Wonwoo.

“Good to know everyone’s up for it!” the president said, smiling. “For now, let us pack up what needs to be packed up, make sure not to miss anything, and then we can head to the after-party.”

You helped pack up the necessary stuff that could not wait until tomorrow. Luckily, the university had a cleaning personnel who would handle the rest, so your work was lighter. Afterward, the group dispersed, some resigning to their dorms to rest, and the others heading to the after-party at an off-campus frat house.

Your friends were waiting for you outside the dorm, and you all hurried off to the party. It was a big shift from the organized chaos of the festival to a more liberated vibe. The living room was packed with students, and the atmosphere was thick with the smell of alcohol, vape, and perfumes mixed with the faintest hint of sweat. Colorful lights dance across the walls, along with the bodies of partygoers moving along to the catchy music.

“Let’s grab some drinks!” Mina shouted over the music, and the group surged toward the makeshift bar set up in the corner. You followed, adrenaline coursing through you as you filled a cup with whatever was on offer.

With drinks in hand, you scanned the room, your eyes searching for a familiar face. And there he was—Wonwoo, standing in a corner, a drink in hand, watching the chaos unfold with an amused expression. His dark hair glimmered under the strobe lights, and he stood out in his plain white t-shirt.

Without hesitation, you weaved through the crowd, clutching your drink tightly. “Hey, you made it!” you said, trying to sound casual despite the excitement bubbling inside you.

“Not willingly,” he replied, taking a sip from his cup.

“Want to join the madness?” you asked, gesturing toward the dance floor, where a group of students swayed and grinded, lost in the music and alcohol.

“Pass,” he said, not even giving it a thought.

“I knew it, but why did I still ask?” you mumbled, chuckling over your cup.

Across the hall, you spotted Mina and Hoshi, getting touchy as they danced to the rhythm. You smiled at the sight of them, lifting your cup in greeting when Hoshi waved at you.

“They look so in love, it’s annoying,” you snorted, but your fond smile was anything but snarky.

“Doesn’t look like it to me,” Wonwoo commented, making you glance at him.

“You don’t see it?” you questioned, genuinely perplexed. “It’s so obvious. They can’t even get their hands off of each other.”

Wonwoo hummed, but he looked unconvinced. “It could be the alcohol, you know, making them hot and touchy… and horny. You don’t need love to feel that way.”

You observed him for a while, trying to gouge what was in his mind but to no avail. You could tell though that he was a cynic. “You don’t believe in love, do you?”

“Love is overrated,” he said, sipping from his cup.

You just nodded, acknowledging his admittance and respecting his opinions. “Are you sure you should be drinking? You can’t handle your liquor.”

“Oh, this is plain soda,” he replied, showing you the contents of his red cup. “I’m not drinking. Can’t afford to make stupid mistakes.”

“Mistakes? Like calling some stranger gorgeous and confessing your love for them?” you quipped but there was a bit of snark in your tone.

“Yeah, pretty much.”

That dampened your mood. “Well, good luck then,” you said, bumping your cup gently against his. “Enjoy the party.”

As you turned to walk away, Wonwoo grabbed your hand, stopping you in your tracks. “Where are you going?”

“I’m gonna go have some real fun. Dancing, drinking, maybe some games because I’m quite good at them,” you smiled, motioning to the chaos around you. “It’s a party after all.”

He released your arm and you couldn’t quite tell what expression he was wearing. “Have fun then.”

“Thanks. I will,” you said with a salute before disappearing into the crowd.

You didn’t see him around the house after that, neither did you try looking for him. You just enjoyed the night, trying to take him off of your mind and the nagging thought at the back of your mind that going after him would not result in anything but disappointment.

Early Saturday morning, you gathered at the school plaza with other members of the festival working group. You were set to leave at 9 am, and despite the hangover from last night, you managed to make it there on time—not without a splitting headache that a handful of other members seemed to share.

“Alright?” asked Wonwoo, appearing beside you with a slight scowl as you pressed your fingers to your forehead, trying to ease the pounding pain.

“Hi!” you greeted him, smiling from ear to ear only to wince again. “Ouch. My head is killing me.”

“And whose fault is that?” Wonwoo smirked.

Before you could retort, Jihoon hopped over, a small plastic bag in hand filled with water and medicine. “Here. It’ll help with the hangover,” he offered, his expression earnest.

You groaned dramatically, pouting at him. “Thanks a lot, Jihoon. You’re a literal angel.”

Jihoon’s cheeks flushed at the compliment, the corners of his mouth twitching into a bashful smile. “That’s… Well, it’s not much.”

“No, I mean it. You really are an angel. Your skin is so fair, it’s blinding,” you said, squinting playfully as if his glow was too bright to bear.

“Take the medicine if your head is hurting that much,” Wonwoo chided sternly on your other side, making you turn back to him.

“Oh, right,” you mumbled, opening the bag. You popped a pill in your mouth and fumbled with the bottle of water, struggling to twist the cap off. Just as Jihoon was about to help, Wonwoo snatched the bottle from your hand, effortlessly twisting it open. 

“Thanks,” you said, raising the bottle in appreciation. You mirrored the gesture to Jihoon, grinning widely. “Thanks, my angel.”

Soon, the rest of the group arrived, ready for the trip. Since the university didn’t sponsor this outing, you all had to pay for expenses and transportation. Some students had cars and agreed to carpool with those who didn’t.

Without giving it much thought, you headed straight to Wonwoo’s car, making yourself comfortable in the front seat like you belonged there.

He didn’t seem to mind, though he did ask, “Are you carpooling with me? I thought you were going in Jihoon’s car.”

“Oh, he didn’t invite me. We’re not that close,” you replied, buckling your seatbelt. “Besides, I’d rather ride you.”

You noticed his hand freeze mid-air, the awkward silence that followed stretching between you like a taut string.

“With you!” you said in a panic. “I meant to say, I’d rather ride with you.”

Wonwoo nodded with a blank expression. “Yeah. I know,” he said coolly.

You chuckled awkwardly, looking outside his window and mentally cursing yourself. When the other cars started driving away, you realized that Wonwoo still hadn’t turned on his engine.

“Are we waiting for someone?” you asked and he nodded.

“There he is,” he said, gesturing at Seokmin, who was rushing toward you with a backpack slung over one shoulder.

He yanked the backseat door open and hopped in immediately. “Wow. Thanks for not leaving me behind.”

“You had three minutes left,” Wonwoo replied, a hint of exasperation in his tone as he finally fired up the engine and drove out of the campus.

The car ride was filled with laughter as Seokmin took charge of the music, blasting upbeat tracks that made it impossible not to move. He sang along, his voice rising above the catchy beats, and every now and then, he added exaggerated dance moves from the passenger seat, making you and Wonwoo laugh.

“Can you believe we actually survived the festival?” Seokmin exclaimed, throwing his hands in the air. “I thought we’d end up in a full-on food fight or something! Just imagine it—streamers flying, popcorn everywhere, total chaos!”

You chuckled, picturing the scene, however impossible it was. “Yeah, and we’d be the ones cleaning it up afterward.”

“Exactly! But it would’ve been legendary!” Seokmin insisted, a mischievous glint in his eyes. “Next time, I’m bringing a water balloon launcher. Who’s in?”

Wonwoo rolled his eyes but couldn’t hide his amusement. “You’d just end up hitting someone with that.”

“Details, details!” Seokmin waved off the concern. “It doesn’t matter as long as you had fun and made lots of memories.”

He stopped and gasped quietly as he watched you extend the iced coffee toward Wonwoo so he could take a sip. You noticed him only when Wonwoo had taken a sip and you’d placed the coffee back in the cup holder.

“What?” you asked.

“Why don’t you guys just kiss in front of me?”

Wonwoo scowled, glancing briefly at his friend. “Why would we do that?”

“Right?” you blurted, snorting. “Didn’t know you were kinky like that, Seokmin.”

Seokmin leaned back in his seat. “You guys. You know that’s not what I mean.”

You felt your cheeks heat up. “I was just being nice, okay?”

“Right, just being nice,” Seokmin teased, wiggling his eyebrows. “But I mean, he didn’t look like he was complaining. When did he stop complaining about you invading his space?”

“Oh, he’s never complained to me before,” you replied, you didn’t even need to think about it.

Seokmin gasped dramatically. “He did not?”

“Not that I remember,” you said, peering at him in the backseat. “And I remember every single interaction we had,” you added with a proud smile.

“But he doesn’t like it when people are in his space,” said Seokmin, pointing at Wonwoo with a surprised expression. “He hates it.”

You shot a glance at Wonwoo, who kept his eyes on the road, his expression unreadable. “Enough, Seokmin. You’re gonna make her think I’m enjoying this.”

“Aren’t you?” he shot back with a grin. “I mean, who wouldn’t want a cute girl following him around, giving him drinks and all that?”

“Exactly!” you exclaimed. “Look at me! 1-800-hot-n-fun.”

Seokmin leaned between your seats, pointing a finger gun at your temple. “Excuse me, ma’am. You’re under arrest for being 10 out of 10 and 2 hot 2 handle.”

You and Seokmin burst out laughing, and even Wonwoo couldn’t hide his grin.

“Settle down, or I'll kick you two out of the car,” Wonwoo chided.

“Is it strange that I’m more invested in your relationship than you are?” Seokmin asked after a moment’s pause.

You shushed him. “Shut up. No one is more invested in our relationship than I am!”

As the miles rolled by, the countryside unfolded around you, with fields of wildflowers swaying in the breeze. Just as you were nearing the location, you had to stop at a gasoline station because Seokmin needed to use the restroom.

“How about you?” he asked, just as Seokmin had left the car.

“No, I’m good,” you replied, glancing at him and found him scrolling through his phone. He just hummed, eyes fixed on his screen.

You took in his features—handsome, of course, with that natural air of confidence he always seemed to carry. His jawline gave him an angular, sharp look, yet there was something almost delicate in the way his eyes softened when he looked at you, or the way his lashes fell gently against his skin when he blinked.

Your gaze fell to his lips—symmetrical with a defined cupid’s bow and subtle but natural fullness. There was that ever-present slight curve. It wasn’t quite a smile, but it always seemed like it was on the verge of one, and it made you wonder what it’d take to coax a real one out of him.

“You know,” you said, voice dripping with playful mischief, “you have really pretty lips.”

Wonwoo paused, blinking as if processing your comment. His eyes flicked to your mouth, and for a second, the silence between you seemed to thicken. But then he shifted his gaze back to the road, brushing off your words like it was nothing. “Thanks,” he replied, as nonchalant as ever.

At the back of your mind, you wonder if it was as soft as it appeared to be.

“Can you tie a cherry stem into a knot with your tongue?” you asked again, leaning a little closer with an innocent smile on your lips. 

You knew exactly what you were doing—the teasing tone, the loaded question. It was playful, sultry, but in a way that you could brush off if he didn’t bite. You fully expected his usual indifferent response.

Then again, there was the possibility that maybe he’d pick up your hints this time, and maybe he’d do something about the tension that was building up between you right at this moment. Maybe—

“I don’t think anyone can,” he answered flatly, the corner of his mouth barely twitching.

You threw your hands up dramatically. “Oh my god. What was I expecting?” you groaned, looking away.

Wonwoo remained quiet, so you glanced back at him. You met his eyes, dark with an intensity that you hadn’t seen before. His jaw was clenched tightly, and somehow it felt as though you had done something wrong.

“What?” you asked, cocking an eyebrow at him.

He didn’t say anything. He just unbuckled his seatbelt and leaned towards you. Before you could react, he was already cupping the back of your head and crashing his lips into yours.

You were momentarily stunned, grappling with the sensation of his lips pressing against yours. He tightened his grip on your head, tilting it just right, allowing him to kiss you more deeply. It was firm, yet slow, like he’d been thinking about it for much longer than you’d realized. You closed your eyes as you melted into him, kissing him back with a rhythm that made your skin prickle with the warmth that was slowly creeping into your chest. Your heart raced in its cage—so wildly that you swore Wonwoo could feel it echoing in his own.

When he finally pulled back, his expression was unreadable, but there was a flicker of triumph in his eyes.

“So?” His voice was low, teasing. “Can I?”

You blinked, still a little dazed. “Huh?”

He smirked, the smug confidence catching you off guard. “Can I tie a cherry stem into a knot with my tongue?”

Your mouth fell open in disbelief before you burst out laughing, the tension between you now crackling in the air. “Y-yeah,” you stammered, the flustered grin spreading across your face. “Absolutely. You’re amazing. Basically a pro. Heh.”

Luckily, Seokmin arrived before the mood could get any more awkward. He did notice the shift between you, but when he asked about it, you just brushed it off. Deep inside, you were reeling in the bliss of kissing Wonwoo—wait, no—of being kissed by Wonwoo.

You soon arrived at the villa, its warm stone exterior blending beautifully with the surrounding trees. There was a welcoming warmth to it, and you hoped it was as comfortable as it looked.

“Wow, this place is massive,” Seokmin commented dramatically as he stepped out of the car, looking up at the villa as if it were a five-star resort.

Just then, a girl with beautiful long hair and a bright smile appeared on the porch. “Hey, guys! You made it!” she called out, waving enthusiastically. 

“Claire?” Seokmin blurted, evidently surprised.

“Seokmin!” she squealed, running to him for a quick hug.

You noticed Wonwoo stiffen slightly at the sight of her, his expression shifting as he watched the reunion. It didn’t go unnoticed by you, but Claire seemed blissfully unaware.

“What are you doing here?” Seokmin asked, backing away with a neutral expression.

The student council president came out before Claire could respond. “You’ve arrived! Good. Good. Have you met Claire?” he said, smiling at Claire. “Claire here was kind enough to offer their family villa, so this is going to be our home for the weekend.”

“Oh, I know these guys. We go way back,” said Claire, referring to Seokmin and Wonwoo.

Prez introduced you to her and Claire’s smile widened as she extended her hand to you. “Nice to meet you!”

“Nice to meet you too!” you replied, trying to match her enthusiasm. You were still processing the sudden tension in the air, especially from Wonwoo.

“Come on in! The others are waiting.”

As the president guided you inside, you watched as Claire held Wonwoo by the arm and walked ahead of you. You felt a sudden surge of annoyance at her, clearly out of jealousy.

Seokmin leaned in to whisper in your ear. “That’s Wonwoo’s ex.”

The revelation hung in the air as you watched them. Wonwoo’s expression was blank, while Claire remained upbeat.

As you stepped further inside the villa, you couldn’t shake the feeling that this weekend was going to be more complicated than you had anticipated.

The first order of business in the villa was dinner. After arriving early, everyone gathered around for snacks and chatted, but by dinner time, the group split into two—those helping in the kitchen and those exploring the villa.

You hadn’t planned on helping out in the kitchen, but when you noticed only a few had volunteered, you reluctantly joined in. A mistake, you realized, as your eyes drifted to the living room where Wonwoo sat with Claire beside him. She looked far too comfortable, leaning in close as they talked, her laughter ringing out over the murmur of conversations. Your chest tightened at the sight, the feeling of irritation and insecurity creeping up on you. 

It’s fine. He’s allowed to have a past, you told yourself, gripping the knife a little tighter as you sliced through a watermelon. But does she have to sit so close? Exes shouldn’t be too nice to each other. And does she have to appear now?

“Hey, focus!” Jihoon’s voice cut through your thoughts as he nudged your shoulder. “You’re going to cut yourself if you’re not careful.”

“Oh, shit,” you muttered, blinking down at the cutting board. You had nearly reached the end of the watermelon and were dangerously close to nicking your finger

“Why are you so distracted?” Jihoon teased, glancing briefly at Wonwoo and Claire before turning back to the stove. “Relax. He’s yours. I’m sure of it.”

You let out a dry laugh, though your stomach twisted. “You can’t be so sure. Not with his ex clinging to him like that.”

“I don’t know... He’s heading this way now, so I think I’m right,” Woozi replied, stirring the contents of the pan with a knowing smile.

Before you could process Jihoon’s words, Wonwoo appeared beside you. His presence made the kitchen feel smaller.

“What are you doing?” he asked, his gaze fixed on the watermelon as he gently nudged you aside. His body brushed against yours as he took the knife from your hand, his touch lingering a little longer than necessary. He began slicing the fruit with ease.

Your pulse quickened. “What do you think?” you pouted, stepping aside but staying close enough for your elbows to brush every now and then.

“I think you’re trying to get my attention. Getting hurt and all,” he replied, making your jaw drop. He laughed at your expression. “Aren’t you?”

“I wasn’t hurt,” you told him, rolling your eyes although your heart was fluttering at the sight of his smile. “And even if I did want your attention, I don’t need to hurt myself to get it.”

Wonwoo nodded, agreeing. “You’re right. You don’t need to. It’s one of your many talents.”

You took a paring knife and started slicing the pears, scooting closer to Wonwoo so your elbows touched slightly. “Seokmin told me Claire was your ex.”

Wonwoo hummed in response, not looking up from the watermelon he was slicing. “She is. Freshman year.”

You stopped the urge to roll your eyes. “So you did believe in love.”

“Just because I had girlfriends before doesn’t mean I believe in love.” 

“You know, I heard somewhere that people who claim not to believe in love tend to be the most hopeless romantic individuals to ever walk the Earth.”

“Whoever said that was lying,” he replied, shoving a small piece of watermelon in your mouth, his fingers lightly brushing your lips.

You chewed slowly, feeling a blush creep up your neck. The way Wonwoo’s eyes lingered on your lips didn’t go unnoticed by you. On an ordinary day, that would be a good opportunity to make fun of him, but after what happened in the car earlier, you could not bring yourself to tease him.

He cleared his throat, looking away and resuming his task. You glanced around, suddenly feeling self-conscious and didn’t know where to put your hand, so you grabbed a slice of watermelon.

“It’s very sweet. Try it,” you said, offering the slice to him.

Without looking, Wonwoo leaned sideways to you and took a bite of the fruit. You instantly regretted that because now you were the one staring at his lips, recalling the vivid imagery of earlier’s kiss.

“Wonwoo!” a voice called out from the living room, snapping you out of your imaginations. It was Claire and she didn’t have anything to say, just waving at Wonwoo with a smile.

You glanced at Wonwoo who didn’t even bother to show a reaction, let alone respond.

“Does it bother you that she’s here?” you asked, your voice softer now, more curious than playful.

He paused, his gaze finally meeting yours. “No, it doesn’t bother me.”

“So you’re unbothered?”

“I’m unbothered.”

You tilted your head, eyes narrowing in playful suspicion. “You know, I heard that people who say they’re unbothered tend to be... well, very bothered.”

Wonwoo let out a small, resigned laugh, finally setting the knife down. His gaze softened as he turned to face you fully. “Again with your odd wisdom.” He raised an eyebrow, his tone teasing but warm. “What’s next? People who claim to have allergies aren’t actually allergic?”

“Oh, I wouldn’t go that far,” you shot back, laughing. “Allergies are backed by science. But being bothered when you’re in the same room as your ex? That’s a little harder to prove. Just like not believing in love.”

“You’re too smart for your own good,” he said sarcastically. “I might need to practice my patience so I can keep up with your antics.”

“Oh? You’ll do that instead of telling me to leave you alone?”

Wonwoo scowled lightly. “Did you forget what Seokmin said? That I hate it when people bother me?” he asked, reaching to tuck a few stray hairs behind your ear. “I don’t hate you, so I won’t tell you to leave me alone.”

Your heart skipped a beat, but before you could reply, Claire’s voice carried over from the living room, breaking the moment. You glanced over, watching as she stood up, her eyes briefly meeting Wonwoo’s before she looked away.

I have a feeling in my gut that she’s doing this on purpose, you thought to yourself, narrowing your eyes slightly at the other girl.

“Dinner’s almost ready!” someone called from the kitchen, pulling your attention back.

Wonwoo didn’t seem to notice Claire at all as he turned to the stove to help Jihoon with the final touches. After that, you moved to the backyard just as the evening settled into a cool, dusky warmth. 

The smell of barbecue filled the air, rich and smoky. The large grill crackled and popped as steaks, skewers, and vegetables sizzled under Seokmin’s watchful—albeit playful—eye. You could hear him narrating the process dramatically to anyone who would listen, complete with sound effects.

“And now, behold! The perfectly grilled steak, sizzling under my masterful technique,” Seokmin proclaimed, waving his spatula like a wand.

You sat at one of the long picnic tables on the patio, nursing a cold drink and watching the light from the grill flicker across the faces of your friends. Wonwoo sat beside you, quietly observing the scene while Claire—who had rejoined the group—chatted animatedly with some others across the table. You were trying not to feel too aware of her presence, but it was impossible not to glance her way now and then.

“Hey, are you going to give me a hand, or are you just going to sit there looking cute?” Seokmin called to you with a playful wink.

You snorted, setting your drink down and getting up. “You know, you can’t use that line for everything.”

Seokmin shook his head, grinning widely. “Who said it’s a line? You just happen to look cute all the time, okay? Now, get over here and help me with the skewers.”

Wonwoo chuckled beside you, and you gave him a teasing glance as you headed toward the grill. “Don’t laugh too much, or you’ll be next on Seokmin’s target list.”

“I’ll pass,” Wonwoo replied dryly, though his eyes followed you with a hint of amusement.

You reached the grill, where Seokmin handed you a plate of marinated vegetables to arrange onto skewers. “So, how’s it going over there with Mr. Mysterious?” Seokmin asked in a low voice, wiggling his eyebrows suggestively as he leaned closer.

You raised an eyebrow at him. “What do you mean?”

Seokmin nudged you with his elbow. “Don’t play dumb. I saw how you and Wonwoo were looking at each other earlier. You’re practically making out with your eyes.”

You rolled your eyes, trying to hide the smile tugging at your lips. “Okay, you win. You are more invested in our relationship than me.”

“I told, didn’t I?” he asked, giving you a knowing grin. “I’ve known the guy for ages. He’s not usually this... I don’t know, present. It’s like he actually pays attention when you’re around. Normally, he’s off in his own world.”

You opened your mouth to respond but were interrupted when Wonwoo appeared at your side, casually grabbing one of the skewers you had just finished assembling.

“Hey!” you exclaimed, laughing. “You’re supposed to let them cook first.”

Wonwoo raised an eyebrow, popping a piece of bell pepper into his mouth. “It’s good raw.”

Seokmin gasped dramatically. “It’s what?”

Wonwoo flicked Seokmin’s forehead, discouraging his thoughts. “Take your mind out of the gutters.”

Seokmin rubbed the part of his forehead that Wonwoo flicked, grinning at you and wiggling his eyebrows knowingly. You playfully swatted his arm with the back of your hand.

“So dirty-minded, go away,” you scolded though you were grinning.

Wonwoo smiled softly, and for a moment, the noise of the group around you faded. His gaze held yours, and you felt that familiar warmth spread through your chest again, that quiet tension that always seemed to hover between you.

Seokmin cleared his throat loudly, breaking the moment. “Okay, lovebirds, enough with the eyes! We’ve got mouths to feed.”

You blushed, turning back to the skewers as Seokmin gave you a teasing grin. He leaned over and whispered, “See? What did I say? Sparks.”

“Shut up,” you muttered, though you couldn’t help smiling.

Seokmin sighed reminiscently. “Man, I’m so single. I wish the others were here too.”

“Right? I would’ve been fun to have them here,” you noted, remembering your rowdy friends.

“We should do this again with them. Say ‘yes’.”

“Yes,” you replied, not missing a beat. “Absolutely, yes.”

As the grilling continued, you could hear laughter and chatter all around—Seokmin’s over-the-top narrations, Jihoon offering sarcastic commentary from where he stood near the grill, and Claire’s voice chiming in from the table, still carrying that same vibrant energy she had when you first arrived.

Once the food was ready, everyone gathered around the picnic tables, the platters piled high with grilled meats, skewers, and sides. The scent of charred meat and fresh herbs mixed with the cool evening breeze. The plates clinked as people passed around dishes, and conversations overlapped in the comfortable chaos of friends enjoying a good meal.

You found a spot next to Wonwoo again, your plate full, though you were more focused on the way his knee brushed against yours under the table. Each little touch felt like a secret between the two of you, unnoticed by everyone else.

Across the table, Prez pointed his fork at you and Wonwoo, grinning. “You two are awfully close for two people who aren’t dating.”

You almost choked on your food, but Wonwoo calmly sipped his drink, completely unfazed. “We’re just eating, Prez,” he said, but his hand landing gently on your thigh under the table contradicted his statement.

“Yeah, and sitting suspiciously close while doing it,” Seokmin quipped, wiggling his eyebrows. “Just saying. The grill master knows things.”

“You really need to stop calling yourself that,” one of your companions teased, shaking her head at Seokmin.

Seokmin gasped dramatically. “Excuse me, ma’am, but this title is earned through years of culinary excellence and—”

“Hey, Claire, do you think Seokmin deserves the title of ‘grill master’?” someone called from the other end of the table, cutting off his exaggerated speech.

Claire, who had been quiet for a while, looked up with a smile. “I mean, he did a good job, but I wouldn’t go that far.”

The group erupted into laughter, and Seokmin threw his hands up in defeat. “Fine, fine. I’ll accept the demotion.”

As the laughter died down, you felt Wonwoo lean a little closer, thumb rubbing your thigh over your jeans. He didn’t say anything, but the way he quietly stayed by your side, even in the midst of all the noise, spoke volumes.

The evening carried on, full of easy laughter, good food, drunk anecdotes, and the soft glow of lanterns that lit up the patio as night fell. You couldn’t remember the last time you felt this light, this content, as the warmth of the barbecue wrapped around you like a comfortable blanket and the buzz of alcohol numbed the cold air hitting your skin.

“You alright?” Wonwoo asked, placing a hand over your back as you were resting your head on the table.

Everyone had gone back inside, save for a few others who continued their drinking by the poolside. You and Wonwoo were the only ones left at the table, mainly because you were tired and he didn’t want to leave you.

You sat up and stared at him. “My god, you’re so handsome. I could kiss you.”

“You’re drunk.”

You snort. “I’m not drunk. I never get drunk!” you paused, staring at your index finger. “Actually, I did get drunk… once, twice? Was it thrice? I don’t remember. Anyway!”

You took a deep breath and tucked your hair behind your ears. “Even if I’m not drunk, I always want to kiss you.”

“You do?” he questioned, amused.

You stood up and stepped closer to him, he remained in his seat, watching you with soft eyes. You wobbled a bit but Wonwoo caught your arms firmly, keeping you steady. You held his face with your hands, squeezing his cheeks slightly. “Don’t dodge this, okay?”

“So? Did you…” Seungcheol paused, hesitating. There was a hint of embarrassment on his face as he finished his sentence. “...kiss?”

You laughed, lolling your head back. “You’re a grown-ass man and you’re hesitating to say the word ‘kiss’?”

Seungcheol shifted uncomfortably in his seat, looking away with a small pout. That expression intrigued you, surprised to know he could make such a face. Then again, what do you really know about him?

“It’s not my fault. The mood of your story is quite… I’m not sure what to call it. Innocent? In a way?”

“I get what you mean. But to answer your question, we didn’t kiss,” you jeered, rolling your eyes. “I blacked out and forgot, but he told me that we didn’t kiss. He dodged it.”

“You believed that?”

You shrugged. “Wonwoo had no reason to lie about it. I mean, that’s just out of character for him.”

“I see,” said Seungcheol, thinking. “So? What happened next?”

You groaned, taking a big sip of your drink before continuing. “Remember Claire?”

“Yeah, we do not like her.”

“Good, she’s annoying,” you said, rolling your eyes. “She was even more annoying the next day after that...”

Prez had a hike planned for the next day. The area was a popular spot for its beautiful river up the mountain, so you all agreed to go. When you heard a knock on your door, you had expected it to be Wonwoo, but instead, Jihoon’s smile greeted you.

“Looks like we’re carpooling today,” he said.

“We are?” you asked, blinking in confusion.

Jihoon gave a half-shrug. “Yeah, I thought the same. Figured you’d be with Wonwoo, but apparently, he already left.”

“Wonwoo’s gone?” You tried to keep your voice steady, masking the sting of disappointment that followed his words.

“Yeah, he headed out early with Prez, Claire, and a few others,” Jihoon explained, noticing the subtle shift in your expression.

You forced a smile, quickly masking the sinking feeling in your chest. “Well, can’t be helped. I’ll just grab my jacket.”

“Take your time. Calum’s not even ready yet, so we’ve got a bit.” Jihoon leaned against the doorframe as you moved back inside to grab your things.

“Who else is with us?” you asked, emerging with your jacket and a small backpack.

“Just Calum,” Jihoon replied with a smirk. “Which means we get to listen to him complain the whole way.”

You snorted, shaking your head. “Well, we better go before he decides to ditch us too.”

As the three of you arrived at the foot of the mountain, you spotted the rest of the group already gathered around the guide for a quick briefing. Your eyes immediately searched for Wonwoo. Sure enough, he and Seokmin were at the front of the line, both seemingly unaware that you’d arrived. A strange tension filled the air as your gaze lingered on Wonwoo, but you quickly pushed it aside, focusing on the hike ahead.

“Okay! Everybody ready to go?” the guide asked and everyone responded with a chorus of yesses.

You saw Wonwoo scanning the crowd behind him, stopping only when he locked eyes with you. There was a subtle change in his expression, something softer as if in recognition of you. He patted Prez on the back, saying something to him before he jogged toward you.

“There you are,” he said with a small smile. “I thought you weren’t coming?”

“Who said that?” you asked, genuinely perplexed. 

“Claire. She said she heard you tell someone that you weren’t coming out today.”

You smirked, annoyed at Claire and her obvious attempt to sabotage you. “And you didn’t think to check with me?”

Wonwoo shrugged. “I didn’t wanna wake you. You seemed pretty drunk last night.”

The annoyance you were feeling suddenly dissipated, replaced by shame as you recalled trying to kiss him last night. You looked away, covering your mouth in shock.

“Are you shy?” he asked, chuckling lightly. “That’s new.”

You tutted at him and hit his arm playfully. “Shut up.”

He chuckled, casually taking your sling bag and wearing it across his chest. “I’ll take this.”

You grinned playfully. “Are you a gentleman now? Is it because you’ve fallen in love with me?”

“No. I just don’t want to deal with you complaining about a heavy bag halfway through the hike.”

The hike started out smoothly, with the morning sun filtering through the trees. Your group moved at a comfortable pace, with chatter filling the air as you climbed higher, nearing the mountain’s scenic river. Claire—who somehow found a way to walk next to Wonwoo and you, was leading the conversation close to Wonwoo, which irritated you more than you’d like to admit. 

“Are you alright?” Jihoon asked quietly, his voice pulling you from your thoughts. He flashed you a knowing smirk, catching the direction of your gaze.

“I’m fine. Just… taking in the view,” you replied quietly.

Jihoon didn’t seem convinced but dropped the subject. “Well, we’re almost there. Save your energy. There’s still the climb up to the ridge,” he added, pointing ahead to a steeper incline.

You felt a hand on your back and glanced at Wonwoo who just smiled at you. As the group made its way up, the conversation turned to reminiscing about old hiking trips. Claire, of course, found her way into this again, laughing as she talked about a time she and Wonwoo had hiked a similar trail. 

“Wonwoo was such a show-off back then,” she said with a laugh, nudging him. “You remember that, right?”

You could hear the hint of nostalgia in her voice, but Wonwoo barely reacted. He just gave a polite nod, keeping his eyes on the trail ahead and his hand on your back. 

“I was younger. Probably didn’t know better.”

Claire smiled at his response, but there was something about the way she looked at him—like she was waiting for more. It twisted something in your chest.

“Yeah, when you’re younger, you make stupid decisions,” said Seokmin, laughing a tad bit louder than necessary. “You’re so relatable, man. I try to forget my stupid decisions too. Especially the worst ones.”

You didn’t know the context, but you grasped the picture Seokmin was trying to insinuate about Wonwoo and Claire’s history. For some reason, it made you feel better about yourself to know that Wonwoo’s friend didn’t like his ex.

After another thirty minutes of steady climbing, you reached the ridge, overlooking the crystal-clear river that sparkled in the distance. Everyone took a breath, the beauty of the view silencing the group momentarily.

“This spot is perfect!” Prez called out, breaking the stillness as he bounced forward with his phone, ready to take pictures. “Let’s get some photos, everyone!”

Some of the group began to gather for a group shot, while others wandered around, taking in the scenery. You stayed back, wanting to enjoy the moment without Claire’s constant presence.

After a few photos and a lot of teasing from Seokmin, everyone dispersed, walking back toward the trail to continue on. As you moved ahead, you glanced at Wonwoo, who seemed quieter than usual, lost in his thoughts. You wondered if it was Claire getting to him, or if he was just being his typical reserved self.

The hike continued around the river, with a playful challenge thrown in along the way. Seokmin, always full of energy, dared anyone to balance on a fallen log that stretched across a small stream.

“Come on, who’s got the best balance?” he called out, clapping his hands together. “It’s a rite of passage for this hike!”

Prez shook his head, grinning. “I’m out. I’ll leave that to the younger ones.”

Seokmin turned to you, eyebrows raised. “How about you? I bet you’ve got some hidden skills.”

You shook your head. “Have fun without me.”

“Come on!” Seokmin grinned, motioning for you to step up. “Just once. Let’s see who wins.”

“Fine. You asked for this,” you told him, taking off your jacket and tying it across your hips.

The challenge began, and as you wobbled your way across the log, the others cheered from the sidelines. Seokmin was right behind you, steady but focused, and you could feel his presence as you tried not to lose your balance. A few slips here and there, but you made it across, jumping off the log with a victorious grin.

“Not bad, not bad!” Seokmin cheered, clapping his hands as he followed behind you, landing with ease.

You were catching your breath when you noticed Claire, standing a bit too close to Wonwoo, again sharing some kind of inside joke. Your stomach twisted as you watched them, the sight more irritating than the thought of falling off the log.

Feeling a bit frustrated, you turned away, pretending to check your bag but realized it was with Wonwoo. You sighed again, and then suddenly you felt a hand on your shoulder. You turned to see Wonwoo, holding out his water bottle.

“You didn’t bring water, did you?” he said simply, eyes soft but unreadable. “Drink up.”

You blinked, caught off guard by the gesture. “Oh… thanks.”

“Don’t wanna have to carry you all the way back.”

You rolled your eyes, knowing he was only trying to downplay his concern for you. “Of course, of course.”

You took the bottle, your frustration softening as you realized he’d been paying attention. It wasn’t much, but you loved it anyway. You basked in it—in his attention which seemed to be on you most of the time.

He didn’t say anything more, just walked beside you as the group started unloading their stuff for a quick lunch by the river. The others went for a swim, led by Seokmin, as expected. You quietly took a sip of the water, the cool water hydrating you as you glanced over at Wonwoo in his usual quiet demeanor. He handed you a sandwich that he’d peeled open for you. Even though he wasn’t saying much, his actions were enough, and you couldn’t help but wonder what exactly was going through his mind.

After lunch, Seokmin managed to talk you into looking for wild berries. The guide mentioned there were plenty of wild berries around, so it sounded like a harmless adventure. You walked with Seokmin, Jihoon, and a few others, but Wonwoo decided to sit this one out, saying he was a bit tired. You glanced back at him, wondering why he didn’t want to join. He simply gave you a small wave before sitting by the water’s edge, his quiet presence still lingering in your thoughts.

As you wandered deeper into the trees with the group, the sound of laughter and rustling bushes filled the air. Seokmin was practically bouncing from one patch of greenery to the next, exclaiming every time he found a small cluster of berries.

“Look, these are the good ones! I told you I had an eye for this!” he boasted, holding up a handful of bright red berries.

“Okay, okay! We know you’re the berry master,” you teased, bending down to pluck a few yourself. But as you reached for another low-hanging cluster, you misjudged your footing on a slippery rock. The moss-covered surface gave way under your shoe, and before you could catch yourself, you stumbled forward, scraping your hand against a sharp branch. A sharp sting shot through your palm, and you hissed in pain, clutching your hand.

“Ow!” You winced, inspecting the cut. It wasn’t deep, but a small trickle of blood appeared, and the sting was enough to make you stop in your tracks.

“Are you alright?” Jihoon was quick to notice, walking over to check on you.

You waved him off with a sheepish smile, trying not to make a big deal of it. “Yeah, I just slipped on a rock. It’s not that bad.”

Seokmin, always the dramatic one, rushed over too. “Whoa, are you bleeding? Should we get you back? Do we need a first aid kit? A stretcher?”

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t help laughing. “I’m fine. I just need to wash it off.”

But despite your attempts to brush it off, the sting lingered, and you felt a little foolish for not watching your step. Jihoon offered you his handkerchief to wrap around your hand for now. “Here, it’s not much, but it should help until we get back.”

“Thanks,” you muttered, feeling a bit more embarrassed than hurt.

After a while, the group decided it was time to head back to the riverbank. As you approached, the sight of Wonwoo sitting alone by the water came into view. He was gazing out at the stream, looking serene.

When he saw you returning, his eyes instantly dropped to your hand, the makeshift bandage catching his attention. Without a word, he stood up and walked over to you, his brow furrowed slightly.

“What happened?” he asked sternly, his gaze locking onto yours.

“Oh, I just slipped. It’s nothing, really,” you said, trying to sound casual, though the throbbing in your palm said otherwise.

Wonwoo, however, didn’t seem convinced. Without asking, he gently took your hand, carefully peeling back the cloth to look at the cut. His touch was soft but firm, and you felt your heart skip a beat as he inspected the wound.

“You should clean this properly,” he said, his voice low, a hint of concern in his tone.

“I will, it’s just—” you started, but he was already pulling you toward the river’s edge.

He crouched down by the water, motioning for you to follow. “Come here, rinse it off.”

You knelt beside him, dipping your hand into the cool water. The sting intensified for a moment before the fresh stream washed the dirt and blood away, leaving the cut cleaner. As if on cue, the guide appeared with a small first-aid kit, handing it to Wonwoo. He opened it, cleaning the wound with a steady hand before covering it with a Band-Aid.

“Here,” he murmured. “This should be better than that cloth.”

You glanced at your hand, grateful, but Wonwoo's next words caught you off guard.

“You said you don’t need to hurt yourself to get my attention?” he asked, an almost teasing glint in his eyes.

You blinked, caught between amusement and exasperation. “I didn’t do this on purpose! And you weren’t even there when it happened. How is this an attempt at getting your attention?”

“You came here with a wound,” he replied, his gaze softening slightly. “That got my attention.”

You scoffed, shaking your head. “I didn’t ask for you to clean it up or worry about me.”

For a moment, his brow furrowed as he studied you. “You don’t want me to?”

“What? Of course, I do!” you stammered, caught off guard by the sudden shift. “But if you’re just going to hold it against me, no thanks. I’ll take care of myself.”

Wonwoo didn’t let the comment slide. “As if you have to take care of yourself. Lots of people will do that for you,” he said, scoffing as he nodded at Jihoon who was chatting animatedly with other people in a distance. “Like Jihoon, for example.”

You felt a spark of irritation flare. “God, I hope you’re saying that because you’re jealous.”

Wonwoo’s scoff came out a little too loud, and he quickly cleared his throat. “Why would I be jealous?”

“Exactly,” you said, pouting as you stood up abruptly, a wave of frustration rising in your chest. “You don’t like me enough to get jealous of other guys.”

Wonwoo stood up too, his expression softening just slightly. “Let’s go back together, okay? Don’t go with Jihoon.”

You crossed your arms, turning away. “Did you hear me complain when you came here with your ex?”

Wonwoo fell quiet for a second longer than expected. When you turned to look at him, he was smiling. You raised an eyebrow, making him chuckle lowly.

“You don't have to worry about her.”

“I'm not worried,” you denied, huffing. “Why would I be worried? I'm a 10. 2 hot 2 handle.”

Wonwoo chuckled, pulling you by the waist and wiping your damp forehead. “Don't hang out with Seokmin too much, you're starting to sound like him.”

You didn't say anything, too caught up in the feeling of being close to him to form a coherent sentence.

“Come on. Let’s pack up,” he said, quietly dismissing whatever it was that just happened between you.

After the hike, you all went back to the villa to pack and get ready for the long drive home. Everyone seemed to be moving in slow, tired motions, still buzzing with the high of a day spent outdoors, but ready to settle into the comfort of a car seat. You grabbed your jacket and water bottle, feeling a slight soreness from the hike, but overall content with how the day had gone.

When Wonwoo finished loading your stuff in the trunk, you made your way to the shotgun and sat there while waiting to leave. Claire appeared at your window, startling you a little. She was smiling as she knocked.

“Hi, Won,” she greeted as if she couldn’t see you there. “You didn’t forget your promise, right? That you’d give me a ride back?”

“Of course,” Wonwoo replied.

“Yay, thank you!” she said, opening the front seat door, much to your confusion.

Claire stared at you for a while, making you feel self-conscious all of a sudden. You gave her an inquiring look, which she returned with a raised eyebrow, gesturing for you to get off.

“Do you want me to get off so you can sit here?” you asked aloud, genuinely curious. “Seriously?”

“What’s going on?” Wonwoo asked, making you glance at him.

Claire spoke before you could respond. “Oh, I don’t mean to offend you or anything. It’s just… well, I get woozy when I sit in the backseat for long drives. Wonwoo knows this. I hope you understand.”

Her words seemed innocent enough, but her tone grated on you. You glanced at Wonwoo, half-expecting him to shoot down the excuse for what it was—a blatant attempt to sit next to him. Instead, he gave a simple nod, signaling for you to move.

Your heart sank. Seriously? It was obvious what she was doing. Glaringly obvious. And yet, he was just... fine with it? You bit back your frustration, forcing a polite smile as you got out of the shotgun seat.

“Oh, thanks a lot! You’re such an angel,” Claire gushed as she slipped into the seat beside Wonwoo. Her voice was dripping with exaggerated sweetness, but there was a glint of malice in her eyes that you were sure only you could see because her back was on Wonwoo.

“I have snacks,” she added to Wonwoo, pulling out a bag. “We can share it. I know you like to nibble on something when driving.”

Still silent, deadpan, you slid into the backseat, trying not to let it bother you. You stared out the window, hoping something—anything—would distract you from the irritation building up. Then you spotted Seokmin jogging toward the car, his usual carefree grin plastered on his face.

That was a relief. Seokmin is fun so you’d probably be too busy laughing to even notice the two other people in front of you.

You moved to open the door for him, but he went straight to knock on Wonwoo’s window.

“What’s going on? I thought you said you were too tired to drive?” Seokmin called through the rolled-down window.

“Yeah, I was waiting for you,” Wonwoo replied, his voice light as he opened the door to step out.

You blinked in confusion as Seokmin slid into the driver’s seat, chatting animatedly. Wonwoo made his way to the back, where you sat still trying to piece together what just happened. When he reached for the door, you instinctively tugged it shut, surprising both of you.

“Oh, sorry,” you blurted, opening it again quickly, your cheeks flushing. Wonwoo raised an eyebrow but said nothing, just chuckled softly as he pulled the door open himself.

He settled next to you, draping an arm over the seat. “Where’s our blanket?” he asked, glancing around.

“Our—” you started, then caught yourself. “It’s… uh… there!”

You pointed toward the compartment near the gear shift. Wonwoo reached for it, undoing the fold and casually covering himself with it.

“Hey, I brought that for myself,” you protested, though there was no real heat behind your words.

“I’m cold. If you need it, you can scoot closer,” he teased, the corners of his mouth twitching into a small smile.

“Don’t just hog it,” you complained, tugging the blanket but Wonwoo tutted, glaring at you playfully before scooting closer to you and covering you with the blanket.

Seokmin, who had been fiddling with the car’s controls, sighed dramatically, tilting his head toward you two. “I’ve never felt so single until now.”

You rolled your eyes, but the smile tugging at your lips was undeniable. As the car finally started moving, you caught Claire’s icy stare in the rearview mirror.  She was not enjoying the ride at all, and you hadn’t even left the parking lot yet.

The ride back to the university had been a blur. After the initial chatter and laughter, the exhaustion from the hike finally caught up to you. You vaguely remembered the sound of Seokmin’s playful banter, Claire’s chipper voice fading in and out, and the muffled conversations that filled the car, but most of it was a fog.

By the time you woke up, the sun had dipped lower in the sky. You blinked groggily, your eyes taking a moment to adjust. It was then you realized your head was resting on Wonwoo’s arm, nestled comfortably against his shoulder. The scent of his hoodie filled your senses, and you stiffened slightly, unsure how long you’d been using him as your personal pillow.

You hesitated to move, not wanting to wake him if he had dozed off too, but then you felt him shift. His arm flexed slightly under your weight, and you quickly sat up, feeling your face grow warm as you straightened yourself.

“Sorry, was I heavy?” you started, voice still heavy with sleep.

Wonwoo turned his head toward you, a soft smile playing on his lips. “It’s fine. You looked tired.” His voice was calm, as if it was no big deal, and somehow that made you relax a little.

You glanced out the window to see familiar buildings coming into view. The car was already pulling into the university parking lot, the journey back seemingly much shorter than expected—probably because you’d slept through most of it.

Seokmin was the first to break the silence from the front seat, stretching dramatically as the car came to a stop. “Finally! I thought we’d be driving forever.”

Claire, who had been unusually quiet toward the end of the ride, turned in her seat to glance at you and Wonwoo with a tight smile. “Did you get enough sleep back there?” she asked, her tone sugary but edged.

You smiled politely, pretending not to notice the underlying tone of her question. “Yeah, I feel better now, thanks.”

Stepping out of the car, you pulled the blanket tighter around your shoulders as the cool evening breeze hit you. Wonwoo came around the side of the car, his backpack slung over one shoulder and yours in his hand, his expression as calm and unreadable as always. You walked together in silence toward the dorms, the sounds of your friends’ voices fading behind you.

“I guess that’s the end of our little trip,” you said softly, breaking the quiet between you.

“Yeah,” Wonwoo replied, glancing over at you. “It was fun.”

You nodded, the memory of the hike and the car ride settling into something softer, quieter. You couldn’t recall every detail of the trip, but a few things stuck with you—the feeling of warmth each time he attended to you, the quiet closeness that had lingered in the space between you, and although it had been a silly joke, the kiss that you shared with him in the car.

At the dorm entrance, he paused, turning to you with a small flicker of worry on his face. “How’s your hand?”

“This? Oh, it’s totally fine,” you said, showing him your hand. “You took really good care of it.”

Wonwoo gave a slight nod, his lips curling into a faint smile.

He walked you all the way to your room, with your bag in his hand while you kept talking to him, asking him this and that like a curious toddler. 

“What are you doing today?”

Wonwoo shrugged. “Probably working on an assignment.”

You raised a brow, pushing the conversation further. “And after that?”

“Gaming, maybe,” he replied with a small smirk, clearly entertained by your persistent questioning.

You tilted your head, pretending to think deeply. “Do you need help with the assignment?”

He gave a short laugh, shaking his head. “No, I’ve got it.”

As you reached the door to your room, you hesitated, glancing at him. The idea of letting the day end here felt anticlimactic, and you weren’t ready to let it slip away so easily. He stood there, still holding your bag, his usual calm expression giving nothing away. 

“Do you wanna come in for a bit?” you asked, glancing at him. 

He blinked, a little surprised. “Why?”

“So I can hang out with you more,” you answered honestly, flashing him a playful smile. “You can get started on that assignment and I promise not to bother you too much.”

His eyes flickered to the door, then back to you, his lips quirking into that small, barely-there smile he often wore. “Sure.”

You opened the door and stepped inside, the cool air from your room greeting you as you flicked on the lights. It wasn’t much—a cozy little dorm room with just enough space for a bed, desk, a single couch, a built-in closet, and a small shelf where you kept a stash of snacks.

“Make yourself comfortable,” you said, motioning to the small couch by the window. You placed your bag down and went over to the mini-fridge. “I’ve got some juice or water. Or… ah, here we go,” you smiled, pulling out a couple of sodas. “Would you like some?”

Wonwoo took a seat, casually stretching his long legs out in front of him, his gaze following you as you handed him a can. He accepted it with a nod, popping it open with a soft hiss. The sound filled the quiet room, making the moment feel more intimate somehow.

He opened his laptop and began working, but you couldn’t help glancing over at him every now and then. The subtle shift of his focus, the way his fingers moved over the keyboard—it was distracting in a way you weren’t expecting. You grabbed a bag of chips and sat on the floor next to the couch, close enough that your shoulder pressed slightly on his leg.

“Why are you on the floor?” he asked, reaching for the side of your head and rubbing his thumb through your hair.

“I don’t wanna eat on the bed,” you replied, leaning slightly in his touch. “I’m fine, you can keep working,” you added, pulling up an app on your phone.

You were content with the quiet—both of you immersed in your own different bubbles, but still feeling the warmth radiating from each other. You didn’t think you’d actually keep your promise to be quiet and let him work, but here you are.

“So, about the hike…” Wonwoo said after a while, leaning back into the cushions as he stretched out his fingers. “Did you enjoy it?”

You took a sip of your soda, trying to act nonchalant. “Yeah, it was nice. Different.”

“Different?”

“In a good way.” You smiled. “I didn’t expect to have that much fun either. Well, except for the part where I hurt myself,” you added with a playful grimace, showing him your bandaged hand again.

Wonwoo’s eyes softened as he glanced at your hand. “Just be careful next time.”

There was a pause. You could feel him watching you, and when you finally looked up to meet his gaze, there was something in his eyes that made you feel both nervous and confident at the same time. It felt like the perfect moment to say something, to push the boundary of whatever this tension was between you.

Wonwoo put his laptop away. “Come here,” he said, patting his lap.

You stood up almost immediately, placing your arm around his neck as you lowered yourself down on his toned thighs. Not many words were exchanged between you—you didn’t need to anyway, you both knew exactly what you wanted.

Wonwoo’s lips met yours in a soft, lingering touch, as if testing the waters. But after a second, a wave of heat surged through you, and you felt your entire body come alive. His lips were soft, warm, and tasted faintly of the soda he'd had earlier, and you couldn’t help but lean in closer, deepening the kiss.

He responded almost immediately, a low, quiet sound escaping him as his hands found your waist, pulling you flush against him. His fingers dug into your sides, not harshly, but enough to make your breath hitch. The room around you disappeared—there was no bed, no walls, no anything. Just the two of you lost in each other.

Your lips parted, allowing the kiss to deepen, and when his tongue swept across your lower lip, a shiver ran down your spine. It wasn’t just a kiss anymore. It was something more, something primal, and hot—very hot. Your fingers tangled in his hair, pulling him closer, needing more of him, and he obliged, his lips moving against yours with more urgency, more need.

You gasped when his teeth grazed your lower lip, the sensation sending a shock of pleasure through your body, and your knees weakened. His arms tightened around you, holding you steady, as though he could sense how much you were melting into him.

When you pulled back, you were in awe, staring at him with your mouth hanging open. Wonwoo smiled a content smile—proud, even, as he traced the outline of your face with his thumb.

“Wow, that was so much better than what we did in the car,” you blurted before you could think about it. “I mean… heh. Not saying that one was bad, just, you know. This one is better.”

He chuckled softly, his gaze lingering on you a moment longer before reaching for his laptop. His focus reverted back to his work, which caught you off-guard since you were still sitting on his lap, with his hand supporting your back.

He’s not seriously going back to his assignment, is he? you pondered, a bit disappointed. But he did, pulling you closer slightly as he used his two hands to type.

You casually slid out of his lap, sitting your butt on the armrest, but he held your legs in place just as you were about to get off completely, so you just left it there. For the next hour, you sat there together, him working on his assignment, and you scrolling through your phone.

You were both silent—he’d always been quiet, but you? Your mouth may be quiet, but your mind is spiraling—overthinking, replaying, wondering, and projecting different scenarios in your head—all while celebrating another blissful kiss from Wonwoo.

In the days that followed, things between you and Wonwoo felt different— and unmistakably so. It wasn’t just the quiet, stolen glances anymore, or the playful teasing that came so naturally. There was a shift in the way you interacted, in the way he smiled more often, and in how he seemed more comfortable around you.

Before, it had always been you who initiated any kind of physical touch in public—holding his hand, a playful nudge, resting your head on his shoulder when you were tired. But now, it was him, too. Wonwoo would casually drape an arm across the back of your chair when you sat together in the library, or he'd give your shoulder a quick squeeze as you passed him by in the hallway. In private, he would hold your hand, or rest his hand on your thigh when you were out with friends. There was nothing over the top about it—just small, simple gestures—but the warmth of it lingered each time, leaving your heart racing a little faster.

One afternoon, you both sat in a quiet corner of a cafe, sipping iced coffee while you pretended to focus on your assignments. Wonwoo was clicking away on his laptop, his attention mostly on the screen, but every now and then, he’d look up, meet your gaze, and flash you that rare, quiet smile that made you melt just a little.

“You’ve been smiling a lot lately,” you teased, narrowing your eyes at him.

He didn’t look up, but his lips curved upward. “What? I always smile.”

“Not like this. You’ve been smiling because of me.”

Wonwoo finally met your gaze, rolling his eyes in mock exasperation. “I smile for a lot of people.”

“Oh? Do you kiss a lot of people too?” you shot back, leaning forward and watching as a faint flush touched his ears.

He shook his head, still smiling but retreating behind his usual mask of aloofness. “That was a fluke. And I didn’t kiss you, you kissed me.”

You gasped dramatically. “You filthy little liar!”

He simply chuckled but didn’t argue further. Instead, he glanced over at your half-empty cup and nudged it toward you. “Finish your drink, or you’ll complain about all the ice melting away later.”

Your heart fluttered at the subtle care behind his words. Wonwoo wasn’t the type to outwardly fawn over anyone, but these little moments showed how much he paid attention. You wanted to impress him, so you drained your cup in one go, even though you were already full. He chuckled softly, giving you a look that said he saw right through you.

It wasn’t all just the proximity and teasing, though. You’d started noticing how you both went out of your way to take care of each other. You would save him snacks from lunch or remind him about deadlines, just wanting to show you cared. He, in turn, would grab an extra coffee for you in the mornings or walk you to class when it got dark, without making a big deal out of it. He was thoughtful, considerate—genuinely so.

Later that evening, you met up with him for dinner at a small restaurant near the campus, you greeted him with your usual chipper smile.

“Is that a scrunchie?” you asked, eyeing the yellow lace scrunchie around his pulse.

“Hmh?” He glanced at his wrist. “Oh. Yeah, it’s a backup.”

“Backup?”

“You keep losing yours when we go out. I got this for backup.”

“Aw. You’re so obsessed with me and I totally understand. I mean—” With flair, you flicked your hair out of your shoulder. “Just look at me.”

“Don’t push it,” he warned, taking the scrunchie from his wrist and handing it to you. “Fix your hair. I don’t want it in my soup.”

You took it with a teasing grin. “Thanks. You could have just gotten those plain black hair ties though. That way, I wouldn’t feel too bad for losing them.”

“I thought it would look good on you,” he mumbled but you heard him just fine.

Out of habit, you would’ve teased him—asked if he’s falling for you. But the way he looked away with the tiniest hint of shyness, the red tint on his ears, and the slight furrow of his brows—they all made your heart race. You needed not to ask, the fact was staring right back at you.

The thought of Wonwoo finally falling in love with you was daunting—terrifying in the best way. But you didn’t know how to navigate this phase.

You decided to keep things playful, like always. “Are you falling in love with me, Jeon Wonwoo?” you teased, leaning forward with a mischievous glint in your eyes.

Wonwoo scoffed, leaning back in his chair with an air of practiced indifference. “I’m not falling in love with anyone,” he denied smoothly.

“Maybe not,” you shot back, a knowing grin curling your lips. “But you definitely like me.”

Just then, the server approached, a middle-aged woman with kind eyes and a gentle smile. “Oh, to be young again,” she said, her gaze flitting between you two. “You two look adorable together. How long have you been dating?”

“We’re not dating,” you said automatically, flashing the woman a charming smile. “It’s just me. I like him a lot, and he’s… well, he’s just putting up with my antics.” You scrunched your nose for added effect, fully expecting the server to move on.

But the woman tilted her head thoughtfully. “Isn’t that what a couple is?” she said, her smile widening.

You blinked, taken aback by her question. “Sorry?”

“If you like him, and he puts up with all your silly antics,” she continued with a hearty laugh, “then you’re a couple.”

Your heart skipped a beat, the teasing atmosphere suddenly charged with a different kind of tension. You glanced at Wonwoo, half-expecting him to deny it too. But he just stared back at you, lips quirking into an amused smile, saying nothing. 

This wasn’t the first time someone mistook you for a couple. You’d lost count of how many times people asked things like, “When did you start seeing each other?” And every time, you laughed it off, always the first to deny it, brushing away the idea with a joke. Not because you didn’t want it to be true—but because you were scared of making Wonwoo uncomfortable, scared of pushing something he wasn’t ready to acknowledge. Wonwoo, however, never once denied it, though he never really confirmed it either.

“Have you decided on your order yet?” the woman asked, prompting your attention.

After dinner, you walked back to the campus, completely satisfied by the good food. You were clinging on Wonwoo’s arm, your head swaying from side to side as you hummed a song that you liked listening to these days.

“Why do you keep telling everyone we’re not a couple?” he asked out of nowhere, making you glance up at him in surprise.

“Because we’re not?” you replied, brow furrowed.

A smirk tugged at his lips, his gaze fixed straight ahead. “For someone who’s supposedly head over heels for me, you seem to hate it when people think we’re a couple.”

“I don’t hate it. I actually like it!” you defended, tightening your grip on his arm. “I’m denying it for your sake. I don’t want you to feel uncomfortable.”

“Uncomfortable?” he echoed, glancing down at you.

You paused, biting your lip, trying to think of how to respond. “Because… I guess I just didn’t want to assume you were okay with it. I didn’t want to make it weird by pushing something you hadn’t even said you wanted.”

“Why would you go out of your way worrying about me when I don’t even make a big deal out of it?”

His tone was casual, almost indifferent, but there was something in the way he said it—something that made your heart skip. You opened your mouth to respond, but nothing came out. You couldn’t quite piece together what he was really getting at. It was confusing and you didn’t want to make your own conclusions.

Wonwoo let out a soft sigh, moving a step ahead of you, his hands slipping into his pockets as he walked on.

“Hey, wait up!” you called after him, jogging to catch up, completely unaware of the small, knowing smile that played on his lips.

BACK IN the present, Seungcheol scoffed and started clapping, shaking his head as he leaned back in his chair. “Wow.”

You frowned, confused. “What? Why are you clapping?”

He stopped, resting his hands on his thighs and giving you a sarcastic smile. “You were so dense, it’s embarrassing.”

“Hey! Whatever happened to just listening and not judging?”

You were in your dorm room again, the familiar comfort of your space wrapping around both of you. It had become routine—spending time here, where you could sit across from him or lie together in peaceful silence. Wonwoo, as usual, had his legs crossed, leaning on the backrest of the couch, looking more relaxed than ever as he talked about his plans for the future. 

It was the kind of conversation that you’d expect from Wonwoo. He had been so open about his future, talking about post-college job prospects and what he planned to do with his IT degree. You listened, intrigued by his calm and composed outlook.

“What about you?” he asked, catching you off-guard.

It was odd to be caught off-guard because of the way your conversation was going, it was expected of Wonwoo to ask about your plans too. At the time, it hadn’t sunk in yet, but you remembered that you were already a senior and would soon be graduating. It was a difficult question for you—a student who didn’t know what to do to launch the career she wanted to pursue.

“What do you wanna do?” he asked again, tilting his head in the way he did when he knew you weren’t paying attention.

You found yourself drifting, your gaze shifting from his eyes to his lips. It was a habit now, the way your eyes traced the curve of his mouth whenever he spoke—how his lips moved with each word, the subtle way they pressed together in thought. You barely registered the question he had just asked, lost in the subtle details of him.

“Hey?”

You blinked, your gaze snapping back to his eyes, but the words tumbled out before you could think. “I so badly want to kiss you right now.”

Wonwoo sighed, like he was almost bored, and you could feel the heat rising in your cheeks. His non-reaction is only comical to you now.

You shrugged, already moving to stand up. “Never mind, then.”

You turned to leave but then came a sudden tug that had you sitting on Wonwoo’s lap, a brief glimpse of him swiftly taking his glasses off and tossing them aside before his lips crashed into yours—all in a span of two seconds. 

You were dumbfounded, but you immediately returned his kiss with the same amount of fervor.

“There. Happy?” he muttered, looking bored, though you weren’t fooled by his attempt to downplay what had just happened.

You blinked, still catching your breath. Slowly, you pouted as you reached out to fix the collar of his shirt. “I don’t really wanna talk about careers right now.”

“Okay,” he said, shrugging. “Then let’s talk about us.”

“Us?” you echoed, trying to sound casual, though your pulse had quickened.

He nodded, watching you with gentleness on his face that gave you butterfli. “Yeah. Us. Me, you, and what we want this relationship to be.”

The room felt still, his words hanging in the air between you. You couldn’t stop staring at him—at the way, his dark eyes softened as they traced your face, the way his lips parted ever so slightly as if there was something more he wanted to say but couldn’t bring himself to.

Your heart was pounding, your pulse echoing in your ears, and the proximity of him—so close, so inviting—was intoxicating. He looked at you with a quiet intensity, his gaze flickering down to your lips, and in that instant, something between you snapped.

Wonwoo grabbed your face and pressed his lips onto yours—softly, languidly, like he’d been deprived of it for so long that he wanted to savor every second of it. You quietly kissed him back, closing your eyes to immerse yourself. Every touch felt electric. The way his hands slid up your back, leaving a trail of heat in their wake. The way his lips moved with a rhythm that seemed to match the pounding of your heart. It was overwhelming—the intensity of it, the way you could feel his heart beating through his chest, how the heat was engulfing you from head to toe.

You pulled back for a moment, just enough to catch your breath, but your forehead stayed pressed against his. His breath was warm against your lips, and his eyes—half-lidded and dark with desire—locked onto yours. He didn’t say anything, but he looked at you like you were the only person in the world that mattered. You could still taste him on your lips, the memory of the kiss lingering, sending a thrill through you all over again.

“Kiss me like that again and I’m gonna take it as your confession of love,” you said, breaking the silence.

Wonwoo rolled his eyes and kissed you again with the same amount of sweet abandon. You gasped when he pulled away, utterly shocked.

“Is that… Is that your confession of love?”

“You’re impossible,” he sighed.

Before you could say anything else, his hand cupped the back of your neck, pulling you in for another kiss. This time, it was deeper, hungrier. His lips molded against yours, his grip on you tightening as though he couldn’t bear to let you go. You moaned softly into his mouth, the sound swallowed by the kiss as he tilted his head, changing the angle to kiss you even harder.

You felt dizzy, lightheaded—completely consumed by him. His lips, his touch, his scent—all of it was too much, yet not enough at the same time. You wanted more of him, more of this.

Your hips bucked forward, slamming onto his crotch where you found out that he too was being spurred further into the pit of desire. The contact made Wonwoo grunt, nipping your lower lip and wrapping strong arms around your waist. 

Breathless, you pulled away, staring into his eyes and wondering if this was actually happening. Wonwoo lifted you by your thighs and moved from the couch to the bed in a heartbeat. There, he carefully laid you down, running gentle fingers through your hair.

“Wonwoo…” you whispered, unsure of what you were going to say, but needing to break the silence.

He pressed a thumb on your lip, shushing your softly before kissing you again. This time, he abandoned your lips too quickly, moving his kisses down to your jaw and up to your earlobe. The tickling sensation spread through your nerves, intensified by his hand slipping under your shirt to palm your breast. You moaned out, arching toward his touch as your way of asking for more.

Wonwoo’s lips left your ear, trailing to your neck down to your collarbone. His hands were busy with the buttons of your shirt, all while you were angling your neck to give him better access of your skin.

He pulled back once he was done with the buttons, marveling at the sight of your body, and letting out a sharp exhale before lifting the hem of his shirt and tossing it across the room.

“I can do a lot more without those,” he rasped, gesturing at your underwear and you hurriedly took them off.

While you were fiddling with the hook of your bra, Wonwoo dived down to kiss your belly, sucking with an intensity that you knew would leave tiny bruises on your skin. He was moving upwards, grabbing a boob as he peppered his path with kisses and then taking his mouth to meet your nipple. As if by his design, he sucked your nipple and pressed his fingers on your sex at the same time.

The moan you let out was throaty, spurred on by the ministrations of his mouth and his fingers. He rubbed tentative circles on your cunt, trying to find your clit based on your reactions. When he did find it, your mouth parted open as you took a sharp intake of breath, and the confidence on Wonwoo’s face made you want him even more than you already did.

“Oh, I see,” he grinned, licking a stripe on your neck. “That’s the spot, isn’t it?”

You bit your lower lip, trying not to lose your mind with just this. “Since when were you so arroga—agh!”

“Shh, you’re distracting me,” he said after pushing a finger in your cunt that had you gasping. He watched you writhe underneath him, going absolutely feral with just a finger. When he pushed another one inside, you were close to crying, whimpering, and clenching around his fingers.

“Wonwoo please…” you whined, forehead creased and lips downturned—desperate, needy. “Inside, baby. Please.”

“Come on. Say it properly. I can’t give you what you want unless you speak to me clearly.”

You threw your head back and sobbed before meeting his gaze again to say, “Fuck me, Wonwoo. I need you to fuck me really really good.”

Wonwoo groaned softly, clenching his jaw as he pulled his fingers out of your pussy. He shimmied out of his sweatpants and positioned himself between your legs, watching you with half-lidded eyes.

You watched in anticipation as he licked his fingers and used them to palm his erection. As he did, your breath hitched, chest heaving up and down as you waited patiently for him to do what he came to do. He lowered himself, placing his hands beside your head as he prodded your entrance with his cock. 

Finally, you let out a guttural moan as he pushed inside you with one messy stroke. The nerves all over your body were rejoicing, feeling both relief and a delightful pain as your cunt stretched exquisitely.

“Damn, look at you,” he drawled, leaning lower to give your open mouth a sloppy kiss. “I didn’t know you could get any prettier. If I did, I would have done this a long time ago.”

“Move, Wonwoo,” you managed to rasp out, not even trying to hide the desperation in your voice. “Please, move. Please, please, please, please!”

He did as you asked, moving languidly as he practiced the clench. That didn’t take long. In no time, he was rocking inside you over and over in a rhythm that made you lose your mind. You writhed and whimpered, urging Wonwoo to keep going.

When it looked like you couldn’t take any more, he paused for a bit, squeezing your skin as he whispered sweet nothings in your ear. Then he lifted your leg over his shoulder and rammed deeply into you, grunting at how tightly you clung onto his manhood.

“Fuck,” he groaned, pausing to take a break. You reached to wipe the sweat forming on his forehead and saw the expression on his face—something between pained and delighted. “We’re not done yet,” he said, hovering over you and ravishing your neck before picking up where he left off.

You kept at it, moving in sync with each other, getting lost in a blur of passion and desire. Your mind was clouded, thinking about nothing except satisfaction and release. You rose to meet his thrust, clawing at his back as you desperately chased a high that was almost within reach.

“Oh, Wonwoo,” you cried out, eyes rolling back just before the pulsating release engulfed you with euphoria.

“Damn it,” Wonwoo murmured, his thrusts becoming sloppy and unsteady as he chased his own climax, driven further into a high by your blissed-out face.

When you finally broke apart, both of you were breathless, staring at the ceiling with nothing but the sound of your ragged breathing to break the silence. You turned on your side, moving toward him and resting your head on his arm. His hands found a spot on your waist, thumb absentmindedly tracing small circles on your skin.

“Is this the part where I ask if I could be your boyfriend?” he asked, breaking the silence.

You giggled. “We’re way past that now. But I’d say ‘yes’ just for the sake of it.”

“But I don’t believe in love. Is that okay?”

You rolled your eyes. “It’s okay.”

“It’s overrated.”

“Yes, you’ve told me that,” you replied, chuckling lightly.

He turned on his side so he could face you, his eyes gleaming with affection and fondness. Those eyes were directed at you. “I’m not good at this. And I don’t know what to call this, but I know I can’t stand the idea of not being yours.”

You kissed his cheek. “It’s fine, Wonwoo. If you want me like I want you, it doesn’t matter what we call it.”

“Okay, babe,” he grinned, pushing your hair out of your shoulder. He brushed his thumb over the skin of your neck, staring intently at it. “I may or may not have left some…” he trailed off. “...marks.”

You gasped, sitting up with a jolt and hitting his chest. “Jeon Wonwoo!”

Wonwoo simply grinned, propping himself on his elbow as he wiggled his eyebrows at you.

“The girls are gonna see that and know that we had sex!”

He shrugged. “They’ll probably just say something like, ‘About damn time’, you know?”

You rolled your eyes. “You’re annoying,” you said, standing up at once and heading for the bathroom. Wonwoo followed behind you, draping an arm around your shoulder and then kissing the side of your head.

“I’m sorry. I won’t do it again,” he said, chuckling lightly.

“No, do it again,” you said sheepishly, looking away. “Just… not where people can see it.”

You peeked at Wonwoo’s face and saw him sporting a massive grin. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

From the start of your official relationship, things shifted dramatically. Wonwoo was completely different from his usual aloof self. He’d be all over you—holding your hand, lying on your lap, hugging you from behind, anything as long as he was attached to you. He’d hold your hand even when the two of you were quietly reading books—a habit he eventually picked up from you after your constant attempts to get him to read an actual physical book made of paper.

Your dorm room, as always, was the prime spot for these intimate moments. He’d lazily wrap his arms around you, leaning in to steal kisses when you least expected it. The guy who once seemed indifferent now craved your touch.

When hanging out with friends, it was no different. Wonwoo would always reach for you without looking because he knew you’d always be within his reach. He would casually intertwine his fingers with yours, or simply place a hand on your thigh. It was so second nature that he did it once to Hoshi by mistake, his hand absentmindedly landing on Hoshi’s knee while he played a game. Hoshi, immediately recognizing his chance to mess with him, leaned his head on Wonwoo’s shoulder, pretending to cuddle closer.

Still blissfully unaware, Wonwoo absentmindedly reached up and cupped Hoshi's cheek, rubbing gentle circles with his thumb.

“Man, I didn’t realize you were this clingy,” Hoshi teased, leaning into the warmth.

Wonwoo blinked, his brain catching up, and when the realization hit, he let out a horrified gasp, retracting his hand so quickly it was like he'd been burned. “Hoshi, what the—!” he stammered, scooting away from him as far as possible.

Across the room, you were in stitches laughing with the rest of your friends, watching the whole thing unfold.

“Babe,” Wonwoo called out to you, almost desperately, making a beeline toward where you sat. The sudden, affectionate tone in his voice had everyone cringing.

“I could never get used to this,” Jun said, shaking his head with exaggerated disbelief

“I hate it when they call each other that,” Seokmin added with a mock grimace. “Like, okay, you’re not single and lonely. We get it.”

Wonwoo pouted as he made his way to you, wrapping his arms around you like a child seeking comfort. “I missed you,” he mumbled dramatically into your shoulder, sending another wave of exaggerated groans through your friends.

You playfully tapped his forehead. “I’m like five steps away.”

“That’s five steps too far,” he said, all mock seriousness, burying his face into the crook of your neck while the others looked away in mock disgust.

Moments like this had become common now, where he let little things slip that showed just how much he cared. Yet, he still clung to his old habit of feigning indifference, as though denying his feelings made it easier to hide how deeply he’d fallen for you. But it was all in good fun, and you found it adorable when he would switch back to his aloof, “too cool” personality just to see you smile.

Despite the teasing, you liked this new side of him. It felt good knowing Wonwoo was willing to show both you and your friends a part of himself that not everyone got to see. Your relationship had leveled up, and it was evident not just in the way he acted but in the ease you felt together now

“Can we go back to when the only simp in this friend group was her?” Jill asked, pointing at you. “Wonwoo’s giving me the creeps.”

Feigning offense, you placed your hands on your hips and said, “Wow, okay. Sue me for being drop-dead gorgeous and having a boyfriend who’s head-over-heels with me. Whatever.”

“Don’t listen to them, babe. Jealous friends are fake friends,” said Wonwoo, covering your ears and kissing the side of your head.

“He was perfect. The best boyfriend one could ever ask for, except for the part where he didn’t believe in love. Actually, that didn’t even matter in the long run because he was still such a great guy,” you recounted, sighing contently as you gazed at the horizon, the warm colors of the sunset painting the sky. “I had never met anyone like him again. I don’t think I will.”

Next to you, Seungcheol furrowed his brows slightly, the confusion evident on his face. “If he was so perfect—”

“I’m gonna stop you right there,” you interjected, turning to him with your palm raised. “There was no ‘if.’ Wonwoo is perfect.”

“No, hear me out,” he insisted, grabbing your hand and gently putting it down. “If he was so perfect, why did you break up?”

You retracted your hand and glared at him, pretending to be offended. “It is, what it is.”

“What does that mean in this context?”

“It means, we were just not for each other,” you said, shrugging in acceptance. “He was lovely and perfect, and all that. But—You know, I read somewhere that we were all created in pairs, and that we were put in this Earth to be with that one person—our pair.”

“Polyamorous people are not gonna like it when they hear that,” he shot back, a teasing grin on his face.

You tutted, shaking your head. “Listen!” Narrowing your eyes at him, he mimed zipping his lips, letting you continue. “As much as I wanted Wonwoo, we weren’t the perfect match.”

“Okay, I get it,” he replied, nodding thoughtfully. “So how did it end?”

You let out a heavy sigh then flattened your lips together in a tight smile. “I don’t know if you noticed, but the whole time I was telling the story, I never once mentioned anything about us fighting.”

Seungcheol’s face lit up in realization.

“That’s because we’ve never had a fight. Not even once,” you added. And somehow, that was everything.

How did it end?

It wasn’t anything grand, much like how you got together in the first place. Wonwoo continued to be a great boyfriend, one you could always boast about. Your friends were envious of such a perfect relationship—one where your man was obsessed with you and adored you to death, not to mention good-looking and smart. He was a catch.

Wonwoo had a quiet patience that made it easy to handle your boundless energy. When you’d burst into a room excited, full of chatter, he would always listen with a soft smile, never overwhelmed by your liveliness. He didn’t need to match your enthusiasm; his calm presence was enough.

And you understood him just as well. You knew when he was getting tired, even when he tried to hide it behind his usual stoic demeanor. Like when he’d sit a little closer than usual or his fingers would linger on your arm. That’s when you’d ease up, toning things down without him needing to say a word. You were attuned to his subtle cues, a silent understanding between the two of you that others rarely noticed.

But Wonwoo wasn’t just passive; he knew how to take care of you, too. When your stress bubbled over, he’d pull you into his arms, resting his chin on top of your head, whispering words of comfort so softly they barely broke the silence. You’d feel the tension melt away in those moments, reassured just by being close to him.

“I hate dental checkups,” you complained, slumping on Wonwoo’s bed the moment you entered their dorm room. 

You had just arrived from a dentist appointment and had to have your teeth cleaned as a regular procedure. Wonwoo sat in front of his computer, eyes fixed on the game he was playing, but he was listening to you.

“Was it bad?” he asked, fingers moving rapidly on the keys and eyes darting left and right as he focused on the screen before him.

“It was! I forgot it was time for a cleaning procedure, so I went there totally unprepared. I didn’t get to meditate and mentally prepare myself for the torture. It was awful,” you grumbled, burying your face in the sheets.

“Come here,” he called, glancing only briefly at you.

You walked towards him with a slouched back, sitting on his lap and burying your face in his neck.

“It can’t be helped, it’s not like you can just neglect your teeth. You did a great job back there,” he murmured, his voice gentle and comforting. “I hate dentist appointments too.”

You lifted your head and peeked at his face. “Right? It’s the worst.”

He hummed. “I can’t even last two minutes on that table without gagging. It’s a nightmare.”

“Really?” you asked, surprised to learn something new about him. “You know, I don’t have a gag reflex.”

Wonwoo cocked an eyebrow, finally meeting your gaze just as the unmistakable sound of ‘Victory’ echoed from his headphones. “Really now? Should we put that mouth to use then?”

You gasped, covering your mouth dramatically at how incredibly attractive he sounded. The atmosphere shifted, a sultry heat igniting the air between you.

“What? You didn’t tell me that just to brag about it, did you?” he teased, his lips curling into a smirk.

At this point, you were sure your panties were already on the floor. “Jeon Wonwoo, you hot specimen of a man,” you said, lunging at him with an urgent kiss.

Your relationship was not only built on mutual respect and adoration but also on an undeniable passion. As your lips met, you could feel that familiar spark, igniting something deep within you.

And despite his usual laid-back attitude, Wonwoo would go along with your plans. You’d drag him to social gatherings with friends, where he might seem indifferent, but you knew better. His hand always found yours under the table, and though he stayed quiet, the squeeze of his fingers let you know he was happy to be there—just because you were.

Even when you coaxed him to take breaks from gaming or studying, he’d give you that knowing look, letting you win every time. “Alright,” he’d say with a sigh, but the way he let you guide him outside for fresh air told you he enjoyed the break more than he’d ever admit.

Yet, as you basked in these moments, a thought nagged at you, echoing in the back of your mind. You turned to Wonwoo, breathtakingly handsome in the golden light of the sunset. 

“Babe,” you began, “did you know we never had a fight yet? Not even about the smallest things.”

His brow furrowed slightly, realizing the truth in your question. Then he looked at you curiously. “I didn’t realize. Isn’t that a good thing?”

You pondered his response. “I think it is, but it’s weird, isn’t it? Why don’t we fight? Couples fight all the time. Look at Hosh and Mina.”

Wonwoo shrugged, taking a bite out of his churro. “Maybe because we don’t let small things get in the way of our relationship?”

“Hmmh. We understand each other so well, don’t we?” you replied, a small smile tugging at your lips. “I don’t know why, but somehow, I can’t help but think that maybe it’s too easy. Like we never challenge each other or have those deep conversations.”

“We have deep conversations all the time.”

“You’re right, but not because of a fight,” you stated in a matter-of-factly tone.

Wonwoo frowned, and you could sense the wheels turning in his mind. Then he hummed, and said, “It does make you wonder if we’re really communicating or just avoiding issues.”

What he said struck a chord with you. Days turned into weeks, and the questions loomed larger with each passing moment. You began to notice the cracks beneath the surface of your perfect relationship. The playful teasing became tinged with seriousness, and the easy laughter felt strained at times.

You pondered over the conversations with Mina and your other friends about love and relationships, and it began to dawn on you: What if what you have was limiting your growth instead of nurturing it? What if you had mistaken stagnation and decay for safety and comfort?

One evening, you and Wonwoo sat in your dorm room, the atmosphere cozy as you both worked on separate assignments. He was focused on his computer, while you scribbled notes on a notepad. You glanced at him, the familiar sight of his concentrated expression making your heart flutter. It was in these moments that you felt most at peace. And then came the thought that you couldn’t seem to shake: How could something so good not be enough?

“Hey,” you said, breaking the silence. Wonwoo looked up, his brow furrowing slightly. “I’ve been thinking a lot about us.”

He tilted his head, taking in your every word. “What’s on your mind?”

“Remember when we talked about how we’ve never fought at all?” you began, fidgeting with your pen.

Wonwoo hummed, nodding.

“Well, I couldn’t stop thinking about it and…” you paused to sigh, biting your lower lip to prevent the words from spilling out of your mouth. You knew it had to be said, that it was necessary to see if you should continue moving forward or move on with your lives.

Wonwoo reached for your face, wiping away a tear that you didn’t realize had rolled down your cheek. “I know. You don’t have to say it.”

Your lips turned downward, trying your best to hold back your tears. “But isn’t that avoiding the issue too?”

He chuckled lightly, pulling you toward him in a tight embrace. “It is but, isn't it better than saying things that will only hurt each other’s feelings?”

“What do you mean?” you asked, nuzzling against his chest.

Wonwoo was patting your back in a slow, soothing rhythm, calming your nerves and helping keep your tears at bay. “I know what you’re thinking, baby. I’ve been thinking about it too. And it’s okay, it can’t be helped. Maybe it’s for the best too.”

You exhaled sharply before letting yourself sob in his shirt, tears rolling down your face like a sudden downpour. Wonwoo tightened his hug, shushing you gently as he rubbed your back, muttering soft ‘it’s okay’s in your ear.

“I don’t wanna lose you,” you admitted, your voice cracking.

“Me neither,” he said softly, pressing a kiss on your head. “But I think we need to face the reality of our futures. Our paths are set to diverge anyway, even if we try to change it. It might be for the best if we part ways now, while we still have these great, happy memories of each other.”

You pulled away from his embrace, looking up at him with your tear-stained face. The thought of never laughing together again weighed heavily in your heart, but there was also a flicker of understanding that this was the right choice.

“Remember when we were in that seminar, and you asked me if I liked you?” you chuckled through your tears, the memory bringing a smile to your lips.

Wonwoo laughed, a soft sound that felt like a warm hug. “How could I forget? That was when I started falling for you.”

“Really?” you asked, eyes widening at his revelation. Wonwoo rolled his eyes as if he regretted telling you that. “No, but seriously?”

“Yes, yes,” he gave in. “You were so confident then. So straightforward and honest. I may have experienced having my heart skip a beat for the first time.”

“No way!” you giggled, snuggling into him. “Why were you pretending to be so nonchalant for a long time?”

“I kinda liked having you chase me around,” he admitted sheepishly. “Why? What were you gonna say about that day?”

You pulled back, sitting up. “Oh, I wanted to ask if you were gonna tell me to leave you alone that day before the professor came in and I cut you off.”

He scoffed, feigning indifference. “Well, I guess you know the answer to that now.”

You giggled, wrapping your arms around his torso while you looked up at him. “I love you so much.”

“I love you too,” he replied in a heartbeat. “Love was worth a try with you.”

“I’m gonna remember you forever.”

“That’s quite a big promise, but okay. I’ll take you up on that.”

And you spent the rest of your college days in each other's embrace, dreading the inevitable but also accepting the reality of your future. Jeon Wonwoo was a breath of fresh air, the warmth of the early morning sun, a prelude to a beautiful song, and a sweet memory of your youth that would stay with you forever.

[fin]

𝔥𝔴𝔞𝔯𝔞𝔫𝔤 - 𝔩𝔧𝔥 ||𝔭𝔞𝔯𝔱 𝔦𝔳

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: 27.7k taglist: @hipsdofangirl, @reiofsuns2001

𝔭𝔞𝔯𝔱 𝔦𝔦𝔦 || 𝔭𝔞𝔯𝔱 𝔳

𝔐𝔞𝔯𝔠𝔥 22𝔱𝔥, 664 – 𝔅𝔲𝔩𝔤𝔲𝔨𝔰𝔞 𝔗𝔢𝔪𝔭𝔩𝔢, 𝔎𝔦𝔫𝔤𝔡𝔬𝔪 𝔬𝔣 𝔖𝔦𝔩𝔩𝔞 A thin line of perspiration coats your brow as you juggle carrying a tray stacked with dishes and teacups towards the main hall. The captains were having their weekly meeting now that everyone had a moment to gather, and you had been tasked with plying the food and tea. Excusing yourself softly, you step inside, gently setting the tray down onto the nearest tabletop and begin distributing the plates and cups.

Once done, you go about pouring tea for the captains, quickly moving from one to another so as to not disrupt the flow of the meeting. Glancing at the floor, you notice a few wayward petals that must have been swept in here as the captains congregated. With spring finally beginning to spur into motion you mentally note that you’ll have to be more vigilant in your sweeping and dusting away of the blooms and pollen to come.

“Thank you,” Youngmin says quietly after you’ve begun pouring his cup. 

You give him a small nod and then move to Gongmyung, “Here you are.”

“Thanks,” he says quickly, turning his attention back to Jihoon.

The air of the room is somewhat electric, perhaps because Gongmyung had brought along his followers to the meeting. 

“That’s all there is to report,” Jihoon states once he’s finished his spiel. “Anyone have anything else to add?”

“Not worried or anything, but have you noticed how lively the city’s been recently?” Mingyu notes. “It’s got me excited.”

“I noticed that too,” Hansol adds with a curt nod. 

“Don’t tease him, Hansol.” Seungkwan laughs, “Festival or not, Jun finds the city entertaining all year round.”

“I didn’t mean Junhui was lively– I was talking about the city.” Hansol frowns.

“One in the same, really,” Seungkwan huffs.

“Aw, you guys are going to make me blush,” Junhui says playfully. 

A snort from Mingyu, “No one here’s complimenting you. We’re just talking about the atmosphere.”

“Poor Junhui,” Seungkwan laments with a shake of his head. He then perks up, “Is there a festival coming up soon? Do you know, Gyu? I’m sure they talk about it at your drinking halls.”

“No idea,” Mingyu shakes his head.

“It’s probably for the spring festival at Bomun Lake,” Youngmin interjects himself into the conversation. “We may have people staying in the capital from Samjinnal as well. The King reinstated it to boost morale this year.”

“That would make sense,” Hansol says, looking at Junhui who looks ready to burst.

“Does that mean we can have permission to go?” He buzzes, “It’s been forever since I’ve been to a festival!”

“Festivals have nothing to do with our jobs,” Jihoon barks out with a frown. “We need to be more alert than usual. Our enemies might take advantage and use the commotion to cause more issues.”

“I agree with the commander,” Kangjoon adds. 

“Ah,” Soonyoung sighs out with disappointment, “Way to be a buzzkill.”

“Are you sure?” Gongmyung asks Jihoon, “It’s a special festival, the King himself reimplemented it. Should we not celebrate too?”

The moment the words leave him, tension makes the air thicker in the room.

“You’re suggesting that we slack off and go–?” Kangjoon prods.

“Right.” Gongmyung smirks, “We aren’t just warriors. It’s a good opportunity for the men to reflect and celebrate, and get out of their Hwarang robes for a while.”

Dongyoung laughs, “I don’t think they can do that, especially those three idiots over there.” His eyes flash to Mingyu, Soonyoung and Junhui.

“What the fuck did you call us?” Mingyu raises his voice.

“I didn’t say any names,” a smirk dances on his lips, “Or maybe you’re aware that you’re an idiot?”

“Dongyoung,” Gongmyung’s stern voice rips at him, “That’s enough.” 

“My bad,” Dongyoung chuckles, “I’m so honest my mouth sometimes says what I think before I can stop it.” 

Mingyu grumbles something while Kangjoon begins to talk once more, “It would be a good opportunity to better our relationship with your men, Gongmyung. Since we’ve been more and more noticed by the Crown, wouldn’t it be best to show off how cultured and mannered we are?”

“I don’t think that’s our current priority.” Jihoon states sharply. 

“I–” Kangjoon clears his throat, “I suppose maybe we don’t need to participate in our current… situation.”

“It’s precisely because of our situation that we should participate.” Gongmyung insists. “With the increased vigilance, the men deserve some sort of distraction, right Gukseon Kwak?”

“Ah? Oh, um… Yes…” It seems difficult for Youngmin to choose a side. “It is well deserved…”

A small ‘tch’ from Gongmyung before he laves compliments, “That’s right. I expected that answer from someone as qualified as you.”

Mingyu lets out a long sigh of relief, “I can already smell the gokaju and hwajeon.”

“Is that all that has your interest?” Seungkwan rolls his eyes. 

“If it’s drinking sanctioned by the Hwarang, I’m all in,” Mingyu nods. 

There’s some more chatter about the festival before the sound of several pairs feet treading down the hallway draws everyone to look at the doorway as Lee Chan peers in. “Are Gukseon Kwan and Commander Lee here?”

“What is it, Chan?” Jihoon beckons him inside, peering behind him to see a few other faces, “Dohoon, Junghwan, Wonwoo… What happened?” The tension that had been building in the room prior heightens as you see the stern faces Chan and the others are making. 

“The warriors sent to receive our monthly stipend from the palace were attacked and robbed of their money on the way back,” Chan reports, straightening himself. 

“What?!” Jihoon rises to his feet, a look of incredulity on his face.

“They tried to apprehend the culprits but they lost sight of them in the crowd,” Dohoon frowns. 

“Attacking a Hwarang warrior in the streets of Seorabeol and stealing our money…” Youngmin also rises to his feet. With how angry he looks, it’s almost as if he’s another person. 

“This is personal. If we let it pass, we’re going to lose face.” Jihoon looks at Youngmin. He then glances around at the captains, “You all, catch that criminal at all cost!” The captains agree with varying degrees of yeses before the commander continues, “But do not let the other men and the wang-do know it’s stolen. Only the ones in this room can handle the situation, is that clear?”

“Understood,” Hansol nods as he stands. 

“Then let’s devise a plan immediately.” Youngmin states calmly, the angered look still playing on his face as they discuss their roles and area of search.

“With that much money, the culprit won’t stay in Seorabeol for long.” Chan notes. “He may be on the move as we speak.

“He could already be out of the city,” Hansol adds.

“Maybe we should focus on swordsmen trying to leave Seorabeol,” Jihoon muses.

“What use could a swordsman have with that much money?” Junhui huffs.

“Alcohol, women,” Mingyu lists, “Nothing too erudite.” 

“Then we should monitor Noseo-dong, there would be a chance he’s there, right?” Soonyoung questions.

“If he’s walking around with a lot of money, he’s going to stand out.” Hansol states. “Isn’t it better to assume he bought something with it that he could easily turn back into money later?”

“A sword or something made of gold, maybe,” Jihoon mutters.

“I wonder why the swordsman picked today specifically,” Gongmyung ponders, his hand resting under his chin, “Perhaps they knew we were getting paid.”

“So you think it was one of our men?” Kangjoon looks over to him. 

“It’s possible. With the new shortages, we’ve gained more green warriors without checking their backgrounds as strictly,” Dongyoung smirks, aiming to poke.

“Criticizing us isn’t going to solve the problem,” Soonyoung retorts. 

You look to Jihoon, who seems to be taking all of it in quietly. His brow furrows before he begins speaking once more, “Okay. We don’t have much time. I’m going to decide who’s doing what…”

He goes on to explain the role of each captain in great detail, once received, they all begin preparing to leave. It just leaves you and Jihoon alone, you hadn’t been a part of the discussion in the first place, only stopping in to deliver tea and snacks. Yet now that you've heard everything, perhaps you can help.

“Commander Lee…” You speak out, your voice cracking after not having used it the entirety of the last half-hour or so.

“Ah,” he seems almost surprised as he turns to you. “You’re still here. Can you clean up the dishes?”

“Of course,” you nod quickly, “Is there anything else I can do? About the stolen money… Can I help?”

“You?” His eyebrow quirks upward, “What can you do about it?”

“I’d like to help speak with the swordsmen that are leaving the capital,” you answer and immediately his shoulders slump downward.

“Not so fast– You can’t go out by yourself. Do you really think you can pry into roaming swordsmen’s affairs?”

It does sound a bit bold coming from you. But you can’t resist the urge to help, “I can’t be as efficient as the rest of you, I’m very aware of that… But that doesn’t make me any less than you. I want to know who did it too. That’s why I want to help.”

Jihoon looks at you intently, almost as if he’s testing your resolve and you stare right back at him. After a moment of silence, he relents, “You’ve got the wit of a Hwarang, that’s for sure.” A small smile plays on his lips as he continues, “We are shorthanded, so you’re going to have to work with us for the time being.”

You try hard to hide the smile threatening to break free, “... Thank you so much.”

A moment later he calls out for Eunseok, asking if he could take you to where the negotiations with the officials are happening. It isn’t what you had in mind, but if you’re helping you’ll gratefully follow the Hwarang.

As the two of you near the edge of the city, Eunseok sighs, “I didn’t think it would be this difficult.”

“Me either,” you frown as a bead of sweat trails down your neck. Your job is to look for any suspicious swordsmen trying to quickly leave the city from the southern gate. The two of you had gone to the magistrate’s office and the Watch to ask for information but neither of the two entities were of any help.

“If we were honest, perhaps they would have cooperated more,” Eunseok wonders aloud.

“That’s true,” you nod in agreement, “but we need to be careful about who knows…”

“You’re right,” he taps his foot on the ground. “Many of the men from the Guard have been incensed since Jihoon stopped them from directly interfering with Wonweol.”

Being more successful meant more opportunities to be envied and hated. The jealousy seems to always be pitted in the Watch and Guard’s stomachs. “What should we do next?”

“I think our best course of action is to return to Jihoon, at least for now,” Eunseok says and begins walking back in the direction of the compound. “Perhaps another captain was more successful than we were.”

As you begin to join him, you see several swordsmen chatting together on the other side of the street. 

“–expected it to go smoothly!” One of them laughs.

“It was so easy,” the one next to him chortles. “Ever since Ongsan they’ve been lacking men, it’s laughable.”

“Eunseok are you hearing–” you begin but notice that he’s already listening intently to the men.

“Shit, you’re talking too loudly,” the first man says, “We need to get out of this city as fast as possible, not let everyone know we’re here.”

The two men begin to walk away, bantering with one another.

“They must be who we’re looking for,” Eunseok frowns, watching the men. His hand flexes over the hilt of his sword as you begin to turn on your heels.

“I’ll let Commander Lee know!” You’re already beginning to run off when he calls out after you.

“It’s a ways back to Bulguksa–! Be careful!”

“I will!” You shout back, “Please don’t lose sight of them!”

With as much strength as you can muster, you race back to the compounds. By the time you reach them, the sun is sinking, dyeing the sky a vibrant red.

“A– Are you alright?!” You hear Junghwan clamor as you approach, your breaths running ragged and your chest heaving trying to collect enough air. “What’s wrong?!”

“I need to speak with the Commander… Immediately…” Your voice comes out in strained pants.

“He’s in his study– I’ll go and get him.” Jungwan says, letting you recuperate while he runs off to find Jihoon. A few moments later Junghwan returns with the commander in tow and you relay what you had seen and heard. 

“We ought to have made you a messenger rather than my page,” Jihoon lauds you with a small smirk. His face begins to harden as he thinks of a plan to retrieve the stipend safely from the thieves, “I’ll let the others know and send them to support Eunseok.”

“Then I’ll go back to Eunseok first,” you say, knowing that leaving him alone while trying to track those men could get him in trouble.

“Don’t be an idiot– Are you planning on retrieving the money yourself?” Jihoon questions you with a frown. “Even if you get there first, what help are you going to offer him?”

You mirror his frown, knowing that he’s speaking the truth: what could you do? You wield no authority in the city and certainly aren’t as adept in swordsmanship or negotiating to get through to the thieves.

“I’ll get to Eunseok,” Jihoon states, “You find the others and join us when you’re done… And good job, by the way. If we can resolve this thanks to you, you’ll get the credit.” Without another word he leaves, heading towards the front gate hurriedly. 

All of the credit…? You hadn’t found the culprits by yourself, you’d only told Jihoon that you had come upon them with Eunseok. It still warms you that Jihoon had praised you, but it wasn’t just your doing. 

With Jihoon now on the way to the city proper, you go to find the other Hwarang. It takes you some time, with night falling as you lead them to where you’d last seen Eunseok. 

“You say that you saw the men here earlier today?” Youngmin asks, his face illuminated by lanterns adorning one of the nearby shop’s entrances.

“Yes,” you nod, “They were here.” Glancing around, you don’t see Eunseok or the swordsmen anywhere nearby.

“Ah, I thought I heard you two,” a voice calls out as they round the corner, “There you are.” Wonwoo walks in tandem with Junghwan as they approach.

“The captains are hiding out in the forest a little ways away from Bomun, we’re to tell anyone showing up to go and join them,” Junghwan nods.

“Then let’s get to it,” Youngmin says quickly and begins to walk.

After a short distance along a heavily forested road on the outskirts of Seorabeol you finally find them. Wonwoo glances at you, raising a finger to his lips to tell you not to make a sound. All of you continue to walk a bit more.

“Commander,” Wonwoo whispers into the quiet night, “Everyone should be here now.”

“Thanks for showing them the way,” Jihoon says quietly. 

“Are the culprits nearby?” Youngmin asks and Jihoon motions his chin to a path parallel to the one that you’re on. Even squinting, you can’t see anything in the density of the trees and the opaqueness of night. Yet you can hear voices rising over the crickets and cicadas crying out.

“A third!?” A voice, one you recognize as a man from earlier, shouts out angrily. “I’m the one who risked my neck for the damned operation!”

“What?! I’m the one who went undercover!” The second man from earlier shouts. “Investigated the Hwarang while you sat on your ass!”

Another voice that wasn’t with them prior now shouts, “Calm down you idiots! You’ve got a ton of money, why’re you fighting over nothing?!”

Jihoon’s expression grows more disgusted the longer he listens, a snarl of anger ripping across his face, “Can’t agree on their share, huh? Well it isn’t as if they’ll need it in their next life.”

“I’ve been scouting around and I believe it to be just those three,” Dohoon reports. You nearly jump at how quiet he’d been on his approach. 

“Let’s get this over with then,” Jihoon huffs and then motions forward, addressing his men, “Surround them!”

As soon as he gives the command, the Hwarang start running, surrounding the swordsmen. 

“W-What!” One of the men shouts as he eyes the blue robes, “There’s no way you could have gotten here so fast!”

“You shouldn’t have tried to swindle the Hwarang!” Jihoon barks back at him, unsheathing his sword and pointing it towards the three men. “Did you truly think you wouldn’t face any repercussions?!”

“Bastard,” one of the men clenches his teeth and draws his own blade, “I guess we’ll just have to fight our way out!”

“You’re stupid if you think you can win while outnumbered,” Dohoon snickers, a glint of moonlight reflecting off of his blade.

“Do not cut them down,” Jihoon orders, “Capture them and we’ll let the King’s justice sentence them.”

And with that, the Hwarang rush the thieves.

The men, who put up a small fight, are eventually captured and taken to a prison somewhere near the palace. After that, the Hwarang filter back to the compound after retrieving the stipend and not much is said about the excitement of the evening until the next morning. Kwak Youngmin calls all of those who aided in rounding up the thieves into the main hall, beaming at them as they enter, you included.

“Thanks to everyone’s cooperation, we were able to get our money back!” He grins, clapping his hands together. “To celebrate, we decided to allow an evening to celebrate the spring festival!”

“Yesss!” Junhui pumps his fist into the air, “I knew I could count on you, Kwak!”

Soonyoung joins in on Junhui’s excitement, excitedly hopping from foot to foot, “Hell yes! That’s what makes it worth it for me to work my ass off every day!”

“Don’t get too carried away, Soonyoung,” Jihoon says warily, “Don’t forget your position as a captain. Besides, you still have a few more days until it happens.”

“We know, we know…” Mingyu waves his hand at him, “But it’ll be the first nice evening that we’ve had in a while.”

When the meeting disbands, each captain goes their separate ways from the main hall. If the Chief wanted this to be a spring celebration, you’re going to need alcohol, food and flowers.

“If you have some time,” you call out to Jihoon as he begins to leave, “Can we talk about the arrangements for food, drink and decorations?”

“Don’t worry about it,” Jihoon turns to you, “We’ll be celebrating at a place by Lake Bomun. If we’d done it here you’d work yourself to the bone… You still need to be rewarded as well.”

“Oh, Commander, I don’t think–” Your ears warm with embarrassment.

“It’s a secret,” he says with a coy smile, “If I reveal it now, it’ll spoil the surprise.” After vaguely speaking, leaving you in a confused state, he spins and leaves the hall.

A few nights later you find yourself being led along a stone path to a temple near the lakeside of Bomun. 

“Commander Lee…” You murmur, trying not to trip on the agate stone of the walkway, your nerves somersaulting at the sight of the flowing fabric around you. “Isn’t there an issue with,” you let out a small cough, “what I’m wearing?”

“What’s wrong?” He asks, “It’s been a while since you’ve worn women’s clothes… Are you uncomfortable?”

“I think that’s exactly my point,” You stop as he turns to look at you, “I’ve only worn men’s clothes since I’ve come to live with the Hwarang.” You’d neither tied your hair or worn a hairpin for a while so it feels quite out of your comfort zone.

“You look great,” he nods, “If I hadn’t known it was you, I’d assume you were a noblewoman.”

“You’re too nice,” you murmur as you feel heat creep up your neck, he surely has an odd sense of humor. It’s then you take a look at him, the blue of his Hwarang robes shed for a brilliant purple. Gold embellishments line the fabric and a portion of his long dark hair is held in a cuff, cascading a ponytail along his already freed hair. Jihoon doesn’t wear his hair like this often, nor the clothes of his noble rank. He’s handsome, you cannot deny that.

“I took some time off tonight so that I could walk the temple grounds with you,” he motions you to follow him, “It’s a rare opportunity for both of us. Want to look around?”

“Ye– Sure!” You nod, still momentarily distracted by him. 

The two of you wander the small pathways of the temple for a time. Other festival goers litter the paths as well, couples, parents and their children– an air of calm in a seemingly torrid world After a few more minutes of walking, you and Jihoon find yourselves on a more secluded area of walkway when he pauses, looking at you with a question hanging on his lips,

“Are your feet sore? I know you’re probably not used to those kinds of shoes.”

“No,” you answer with a shake of your head, “I’m alright.”

“You’ve got a stronger resolve than most,” he chuckles, “Makes sense, how else would you have traveled from Toehwa-hyeon to Seorabeol alone?”

“I only left home because I was looking for my father,” you smile at him, sadness riding in your tone and surely reflecting in the small smile you offer. 

“I know,” he sighs frustratedly, “Trust me, we are trying our best to figure out where he disappeared off to.” 

The once light atmosphere becomes heavy with the mention of your father. Walking further a bit, you see several temple patrons tying small pieces of parchment to a tower in the center square of the temple’s entrance. 

“Do you think that’s for prayers?” You ask and look at Jihoon, “Should we write something?”

His eyes stare coldly at the display before you, before relaxing at your request, “I’m not one to leave it all in the gods’ hands… But if we’re already here, why not.”

“I’ll go and find a brush,” you grin and begin to dash off.

“Don’t forget the paper!” He calls out after you.

It takes you a while to find the items, but you return to Jihoon and hand him a brush and piece of paper. You take your time carefully penning your wish down onto the paper, blowing the ink softly so it dries faster.

“I can tie it for you,” he says as he notices you trying to figure out where to place yours. You hadn’t noticed him tie his own to the tower.  

“Ah– Okay,” you nod, caught up in his words as you try to hand him your wish clumsily. 

“What kind of wish did you write?” he asks, gently holding it in his hands but not unfurling the carefully folded paper. Eyes widening, you reach out, aiming to grab the paper but instead grip your hands around his, blocking his free hand from taking the paper. He laughs, “I can’t put it up for you if you hide it from me… Don’t tell me you want to keep it a secret for me that badly?”

“It’s nothing like that at all!” You nearly shout, flustered as heat creeps along your cheeks. 

“Is it something too shameful to mention, then?” He teases, leaning in closer. 

“…Why would you think that?”

Jihoon looks at you suspiciously for a moment too long but eventually sighs and pulls back, “Now, thanks to you, I’m wondering if you’re really making a wish for yourself or for the sake of someone else. IF it’s really something you want for yourself, then good.”

Thinking for a moment, you drop your hands away from his. He sighs in the gentle night breeze wafting through the temple and ties your wish to the tower without looking at the inscription on it. 

“My bad,” he relents, “I was being tactless. Your wish is only between you and the spirits.”

“No,” you shake your head, “It isn’t that… What did you write, Jihoon?” Your teeth catch your lower lip at the slip of his first name. You don’t use it often, only in the moments where you forget that he wields absolute authority over your role within the Hwarang. 

His eyes widen at your name falling from his lips, and then soften, his lower lip turning into a pout as you raise your hands, “Sorry! I shouldn’t be asking you.”

He laughs, waving his hand, “No, I don’t mind. My wish is obvious: for the Hwarang to become even greater than they already are.”

“That makes sense,” you note. “Then my wish is–” you begin before he cuts you off.

“Hush, I didn’t ask,”

“You just told me yours, though. It wouldn’t be fair… I wished for you to be safe and healthy.”

When you tell him, he laughs a bit mockingly, “Really? Isn’t that exactly what I was worried about? Plus, there’s no reason to hide something like that, right?”

“I know, but it’s just–” you flush, looking at the ground.

“Thank you.” He says simply and you look at him. “I’m the one keeping you under house arrest, and yet you’re so good natured.”

“I don’t think of it that way anymore,” you retort. “At first, our only common goal was to find my father. But now that I know all of you better I’m happy that I can live with you all and be useful in some ways.” Ever since the raids on Wonweol and Jeolin you saw what force the Hwarang could muster, you then could understand and believe that they are fighting for what is right.

Jihoon gives you a small nod in thanks, “This was a nice evening but unfortunately I have some work to do, so I guess we’d better head back.”

“Thank you for taking the time to take me out today.”

“There’s no need for thanks, it was a nice breather for me as well.”

𝔄𝔭𝔯𝔦𝔩 13𝔱𝔥, 664 – 𝔖𝔢𝔬𝔯𝔞𝔟𝔢𝔬𝔩, 𝔎𝔦𝔫𝔤𝔡𝔬𝔪 𝔬𝔣 𝔖𝔦𝔩𝔩𝔞 “Look Seungkwan!” You call out to the captain some feet in front of you, “The trees are still in bloom.”

Boo Seungkwan stops in his tracks, the blues of his robes shifting as he turns to face you and then looks across the street at the tree you'd pointed out.

The gentle introduction of spring is most certainly needed in Seorabeol now. After last autumn’s attempt at quashing the Baekje forces, Silla thought themselves to be rid of the threat, but now more rumors have been arising from the north that Buyeo Pung and his men are on the move once again.

“You’re right,” he nods and looks back at you, a smirk on his lips as he does so, “Even then, I’d try to act sedate about it.”

Eyes widening as you look at a few townsmen who pass, their gazes dubious over your excitement towards the changing season. Maybe too forgetful of your attire with the dawn of a new spring, you find yourself quieting down as you catch up to Seungkwan.

“Seungkwan?” You question after a moment more of walking, your eyes watching a few petals float atop the river, “Why didn’t we go after those men who ran off after seeing you?”

“Them?” Seungkwan scoffs as you look back to him, “They’re not revivalists, that’s for sure. If they were, they wouldn’t have run off like a dog with its tail between its legs. More than anything they’re probably common thieves.” A nod of his head as his shoes kick up a small cloud of dust, “To be honest, I doubt there are any revivalists in Seorabeol willing to start anything and oust themselves at this point.”

“The Hwarang have really made a name for themselves, haven’t they?” You muse, watching the street ahead of you. “It seems like everyone knows your blues.”

In recent memory, the question of changing the Hwarang uniform has been placed on the table more than once, stemming from the fact that it both catches people’s attention as well as wards troublemakers off. As well as a lack of fashionable sense, Gongmyung had so graciously advised. 

“Has the Deputy Commander returned from Ungjin yet?” You question, knowing that Gongmyung had left some time ago to oversee some things at a newer installment of Hwarang in the area.

“Think so,” Seungkwan frowns, “Can’t say I wanted him back so soon, if ever, though.”

“He said he was going to recruit people too, right?” 

“Mhm, but I have to wonder if Ungjin is the only place he went.” The Hwarang mutters.

“Isn’t that a good sign though? That he’s trying to get more numbers?” 

“Is that what you think that’s about?” An eyebrow piqued at you.

“Am I wrong to assume that?” You furrow your brow, brushing your hand on the front of your robes to try and get rid of some lingering dust.

“Not at all,” with the way Seungkwan says it, you know he’s being sarcastic. “Kwak’s too nice to him, he should’ve been kicked out a long time ago.”

Ever since the Kim brothers had arrived to join the Hwarang, there had been a strong dislike for Gongmyung. You certainly can see why but hearing the absolute vocalized protest against him is jarring to hear. 

You break away from looking at the road ahead and catch a glimpse of a figure quickly turning and racing down a side alley. At first you think it to be more men afraid of getting caught from the Hwarang on patrol, but the bright pink of their skits catch you off guard as they slip around the corner. 

“Wait a minute…” Catching their eye, you’re stricken with a familiarity almost as if you were looking at your own face. You aren’t given much time to look at her, though, because once you’ve realized who she is, she’s gone. “Ahro!” You call out, only to be pulled back by Seungkwan.

“Where do you think you’re going?” He asks, only for you to shrug him off and barrel down the road towards where you’d last spotted your doppelgänger. 

“Just hold on!” You call out behind you, knowing that a stunt like this is going to get you into trouble. The backstreets are more dense than you originally thought, a thicket of people causing you to weave your way through the crowds as you race after the girl. It isn’t until you trail her to a back alley deep in the depths of Seorabeol does she stop.

“Is something wrong?” Ahro asks as she spins on her heels as she turns to face you, “You seem to have exerted yourself quite a bit.”

“It looks like I surprised you earlier,” you huff, trying your best not to double over as your lungs take in more oxygen than they can process. “Do you remember who I am?”

“Of course,” she nods, “You were with the Hwarang that day.”

“Can I ask you something?” Thoughts flooding to what Mingyu had said that night at Noseo-dong, of the girl he mentioned who looked exactly like you. “One of the men said they saw a girl who looked like me at the bulletin board by the bridge some time ago… Was that you by any chance?”

“I’m not sure,” a frown holds her lips as her pink skirts flutter in the wind with a gentle breeze, “I don’t find myself traveling there very often. But if he had seen me, would that be an issue?” Embarrassment takes hold over you, you’re almost accusing a stranger for something that you don’t even know the full story of. “Perhaps what you wanted to ask me was if I’ve been there at night?”

Eyes widening at her statement, maybe she is more perceptive than you thought.

“It happened in late spring, someone who looked like me disrupted what the Hwarang were guarding,” you pick your words carefully, trying not to be but so accusatory at the moment.

“If it was you,” a voice, more accusatory, calls out from behind you and directed towards Ahro, “Then we need to talk, it may or may not end with your imprisonment depending on the answers you give me.”

“Seungkwan,” you mutter, surprise overtaking you as he walks to stand by your side. You’re not sure when he’d caught up with you. 

“Captain Boo,” she notes with a small smile, “Thank you for helping me back then.”

Her gratitude falls on deaf ears, Seungkwan’s frown not budging with her words. “Are you going to answer her?” He asks, gaze narrowing, the taught smirk reappearing as his body tenses, anticipating something, “Were you at the board that night?”

“Many people walk by that board during the day,” Ahro’s brow furrows, “But I don’t go near it at night because of the attacks. Are you accusing me simply because I look like someone else?” She looks almost downcast at her own words, her gaze dropping to the ground as she hangs her head.

“Of course not,” you step in, “It’s rude of us to assume without any proper evidence.”

“You’re still gullible,” Seungkwan scoffs, shaking his head, “After a few sorry words you’re just going to believe her? Even if she is the culprit, do you think she’d just tell you that?”

Seungkwan and you lock eyes, an immense feeling of guilt washing over you. You’re not one to place the blame with little to no evidence, but she was the closest thing to a lead you and he had seen since Mingyu had divulged what he’d seen that night.

“If there’s no reason for you to keep me here… I should be getting on my way, I have errands to run,” Ahro sighs out and turns on her heels, beginning to walk towards the main street.

You think to pursue her once more, but a fit of coughing coming from the captain interrupts that thought. 

“Are you alright?” A worried look to Seungkwan, who’s nearly doubled over, coughing into his hand. You find yourself stepping forward, wanting to offer assistance but not sure on how to do so.

His head shoots up to look at you as he hears you approach, his free hand raising to stop you, “Stay back.” Another bout of coughing before he speaks again, “I’m fine just… just give me a second.” It is the intensity of his demeanor that halts you, not only his words. The captain coughs for a few moments more, only standing straight when the bouts reside. His face looks pallid, sweat crawling down the sides of his face as he looks back at you. 

“Are you still sick?” You question him carefully as he wipes his hand on his sleeve. “You look tired.”

“I’m fine,” he answers shortly, a small smile finding its way to his lips as if to assure you. It doesn’t. “You did make me run after you, you know.”

“But…” you begin before he stops you.

“But nothing, we’re in the middle of our rounds, we can’t get sidetracked anymore.” With that, he begins to walk, pace a little more slower than usual. You catch up to him and he starts to scold you, “I agree that asking Ahro about the incident was important, but you can’t just run off like that alone. If she had been an enemy or had accomplices waiting for you, what would you have done?” He watches your brow furrow and shakes his head, “You didn’t even think about that, did you?”

Even if Ahro hadn’t done anything nefarious, Seungkwan’s right. You’d chased after your doppelganger without a second thought, which could have been bad if it had been someone else. 

“Just,” he sighs, “try to be more careful, okay? I can’t be around you all of the time to make sure you don’t run off and get yourself kidnapped or killed.”

With Seungkwan’s words still lingering in your head, you finish your rounds and head back to the temple grounds. They still continue to float around even after you've eaten dinner and resigned yourself back to your room, the bright light of the moon creeping in through the sole window of your quarters. 

You like to think yourself useful, on more than one occasion you have helped the Hwarang with their ventures and around the headquarters. Yet, today has shown you that there is much more to learn, and maybe that your perception isn’t where it should be. 

The more you think about it, the stronger your resolve to change it becomes, you’ll work on becoming more aware and less dependent on this. It’s high time you do something about it. 

Just when you think that to yourself, a loud boom reverberates around your room, up against your door as if someone’s thrown themselves against it. It causes you to startle, quickly bolting up from your bedding as your heart begins to pound in your chest. It happens once more and the door bursts open, splinters of wood falling to the ground from where the hinges once attached to frame, revealing a wang-do standing in the dimly lit hall.

“Is… everything alright?” You question after they make no move to speak, continuing to stand there ominously. “Do you need something?” Every muscle in your body feels taught, anticipating the culminating worry building in your gut.

The wang-do mutters something, nearly inaudible as you strain your ears to listen to him.

“What did you say?” 

“… Blood,” the word chills you as he takes a step across the threshold of your room, now as he comes into focus you can see that his hair is stark white. “I need… blood.” In his hand is a sword, dragging along the ground as he takes another step, the sound of the metal carving into the wood of the floor echoing around the space. It hits you then, your stomach dropping as you realize that he’s one of the Furies. 

You part your lips, wanting to call out for one of the captains, but find yourself unable to muster a singular syllable before the Fury lunges at you with a cackle. The blade hisses as he raises it and brings it down toward you, you roll from your bed and onto the floor but not before you feel the cool metal of the blade burn and sink into the flesh of your arm. 

A cry escapes you as you hit the floor, trying to scramble away from the intruder, but as the Fury catches sight of the crimson of your blood, he seems to only become more enthralled. Hand finding the wound on your arm, you try to apply pressure to it, your back hitting the wall behind you as the Fury looms in front of you. 

“Someone help!” The words finally escape you as the Fury reaches up to smear the droplets of blood that had hit his cheek, he laughs again before raising his sword once more, probably intending to end your life. His eyes show no remorse, no semblance of humanity as he laughs and laughs. Feet kicking off of the floor, he begins to barrel towards you, your limbs frozen in place as you can only watch.

The sound of a pair of footsteps racing into your room nearly pulls your attention away from the man running at you, yet it doesn’t, but when the new figure tells you to duck and look away, you comply almost immediately, tucking into yourself and trying to move away.

The Fury that had been chasing you stops at the intrusion, looking surprised to see the commander standing in the front of your room, his sword raised. Angered at the arrival, the Fury turns from you and takes a sloppy swing at Jihoon, the commander’s blade meeting the wang-do as he turns. 

A cry resounds around the room as the Fury is struck, writhing for a moment before his wound begins to heal before your very eyes. Jihoon realizes this and looks over to you, “Get over here, now,” his voice stern before he looks back to the wang-do. Wordlessly, you do, still holding onto your arm as you make your way to him, the Fury’s attention still rapt upon Jihoon. As you fall behind the captain, more footsteps race towards your room, several of the captains arrive at your doorway seconds later, their brows furrowed.

“You all right?” Junhui asks as he looks to survey the situation. 

“That’s,” Mingyu frowns before you can respond, his eyes settled on the wang-do, “the kid who had to drink the pimul after that shop raid… He’s too far gone now to bring him back.” The sadness in his tone is palpable, knowing that they’d have to kill the turned wang-do in the very near future. As if the words were an unspoken signal, the trio release their blades from their scabbards. They fan out, circling the wang-do carefully, watching for any signs of erratic movement. In an instant, the captains attack and fell the soldier, who crumples to the ground with a shriek of pain. 

For a few seconds, the room is quiet, only then to be interrupted by more footsteps approaching. Perhaps the captains hadn’t been the only ones to hear your plea for help.

“I thought we’d talked about sparring after the sun’s set…” Gongmyung’s voice sounds from around the corner, rubbing his eyes as he turns into the room, freezing when he sees the scene before him. “What’s happened?”

Brow furrowing as he looks to the fallen Hwarang, “Wasn’t he sentenced to death a few days ago for breaking our code?” Looking from the bloodied corpse to the bloodied blades held by the captains, “Are you all responsible for this?”

Jihoon mutters some profanity under his breath as Soonyoung begins to ramble, “You don’t understand, we’ve just-”

“A captain cutting down his own man?” Gongmyung continues, an amalgamation of confusion and anger culminating in his expression, “This is unheard of.”

“This is my fault, I suppose,” another voice rings out from behind Gongmyung and your hair stands on end immediately. Seungcheol looks forlornly at the wang-do’s corpse, “My lack of leadership caused this to happen.”

At the sound of his voice, Gongmyung jumps and at the sight of him, Gongmyung pales. “W- What are you doing here, Colonel? You’re supposed to be dead…?” 

The room falls silent once more, until Jihoon breaks it.

“I suppose we can’t keep it a secret for any longer.” Arms crossing over his chest, he looks to you as you push yourself from the floor, “You should leave, you can use my room for the night.” 

You want to stay, want to make sure that they can explain everything properly so that Gongmyung doesn’t get any more frantic. Yet, Jihoon’s expression tells you enough that he’ll handle it. 

𝔄𝔭𝔯𝔦𝔩 14𝔱𝔥, 664 – 𝔖𝔢𝔬𝔯𝔞𝔟𝔢𝔬𝔩, 𝔎𝔦𝔫𝔤𝔡𝔬𝔪 𝔬𝔣 𝔖𝔦𝔩𝔩𝔞 The sound of birds chirping stirs you from slumber, and as soon as your eyes open you bolt up, looking at the unfamiliar space around you. This is the commander’s private quarters, you remember this as you recall the events of the night prior. Your arm, now wrapped in bandages, has healed quickly, yet you keep the guise of injury for the time being. The last you’d checked it had faded into a light scar, in a few days there would be no trace of it at all. 

Your feet eventually find the floor, standing and stretching before you open the door and quickly make your way to the main hall to see what the events of last night had wrought upon the Hwarang. Before you get into the hall, you come across the Kim brothers, Gongmyung calling out to you.

“You…” The Deputy Commander says before two more figures come into view.

“Soonyoung… Hansol… Where are you all going this early?” You ask, tilting your head in confusion.

“Due to last night’s… disturbance, I’m sure no one got a good night’s sleep,” Gongmyung answers for them, “You were injured, right? How’s your arm doing?” 

“It isn’t as bad as I first thought,” you nod, hand moving to ghost over the injury.

“I’m glad to hear that,” he says with an uncharacteristic smile. Rather than the manic state he was in last night, he seems to be chipper. 

“Did something happen?” You ask, wondering about the mood shift.

“I suppose you could say that, right, Choi, Kwon?” Gongmyung looks at them, as do you. When you catch Soonyoung’s eye he quickly breaks away, diverting his gaze away from you. 

“I guess so,” the younger mumbles out.

“It isn’t information we can give out right now,” Hansol frowns, his attention rapt on you, unlike Soonyoung’s. 

“Even for you, Choi, that’s a cold goodbye,” Dongyoung says, “Or did you want to get out of here as fast as you can?”

“Are you… leaving?” You question, looking back to the brothers before Gongmyung hushes his sibling.

“We’ll be on our way,” he nods at you, “I hope your injury heals well.”

“Goodbye,” Hansol says as he passes you, a small nod in your direction before Soonyoung brushes past with a ‘See you’. 

And then just like that, they’re gone, leaving you standing at the entrance of the main hall to try and understand what had just happened. Before long, you pull yourself from your thoughts and make your way into the hall, meeting with a few other captains.

“Are you sure you should be up already?” Eunseok calls out to you as you enter, a worried expression on his face as he notices your bandaged arm. He’s standing next to Wonwoo, presumably having been in a conversation with him before your arrival.

“I’m alright,” you try to assure him with a small smile, “It wasn’t as bad as it looked.”

“That’s good news,” Wonwoo smiles, “I’m sorry to hear that it happened though.”

“It’ll be alright…” Trying to sate their worry, you bring up another thought plaguing you. “I saw the Deputy Commander on my way here, he was acting strange.”

The two look at each other before Eunseok lets out a sigh, “You saw them?”

“Soonyoung and Hansol were acting strange as well,” feeling concerned for the captains, you look to the two in front of you for answers. 

After a moment of silence, Wonwoo speaks up hesitantly, “Well… They’re leaving.”

Eyes widening as Eunseok adds on, “They’re going to form a new group different from the Hwarang. We had a meeting with the Chief and Commander Lee about it this morning.”

“So Soonyoung and Hansol…” A frown begins to curve your lips as you realize why they had been so downcast. 

“They are leaving with him, yes,” Eunseok sighs out, “I think I’m as shocked as you are. I understand that coming from Soonyoung, since he’s known him for longer… But Hansol’s surprised me the most.”

“Don’t worry,” Youngmin’s voice calls out, probably having witnessed your conversation from the head of the room. “We promised to keep things calm between our two organizations.”

Even if his words are meant to calm, with Gongmyung leaving with several pivotal members of the Hwarang, you only think he’s meaning to split and factionalize the rifts forming in the Hwarang’s ranks. 

“He still won’t be able to associate with the Guard though, right?” Wonwoo questions.

“Like hell I’d let him,” Jihoon speaks up now, a bitter bite to his voice, “He can leave, but I’m not letting him walk all over us so he can get what he wants.”

From there, the Hwarang begin to speak amongst themselves of names and other organizations that you aren’t too familiar with, slowly leading you to drift away from the conversation. Despite your feelings towards the captains leaving, you know nothing you say now could change anything, they’ve already left. So, you quietly excuse yourself and leave the main hall. As you walk towards your room, you look to the sky, wondering what the impact of leaving would have on the remaining Hwarang. Surely a blow like this hurt not only their pride but the relationships they have with those who left.

The door to the main hall opens and you turn to see Jihoon leaving, he catches you looking at him and strides over.

“Shouldn’t you be resting?” He questions, eyes lingering on your bandaged arm, “I remember the cut being deep.”

“I feel better,” you say quickly, trying to brush off his concern.

“Just because your father’s a doctor and you know a few things doesn’t make you invulnerable,” an almost concerned tone wavering in his voice, “Go and get some rest before you hurt yourself more.” 

“I will,” you nod, mentally berating yourself. It’s hard to recall the severity of one’s injury when it heals so quickly. “Before I go, though… Can I ask you something?”

“What is it?”

“It’s about the new group… How do you feel about all of them leaving?” 

“What do you mean?” He questions, crossing his arms. 

“You’re losing some of your men,” you aren’t sure how careful you should be with your wording, “Doesn’t that make you upset?”

“If they were my allies yesterday and things change that makes them my enemies tomorrow, so be it.” He shakes his head, “That’s just life.”

“Even Soonyoung and Hansol?” The two captains had been by his side since he’d started commanding the Hwarang, surely, he couldn’t turn on them so easily.  

“They’ll be missed,” Jihoon frowns, “But if they’re leaving it means they had an issue with the Hwarang, it’s better they leave now than when their discontent grows even more.” 

The commander’s harsh and analytical take towards his men leaving has you somewhat stupefied. On one hand, you can see how indifferent he’d be towards Gongmyung and his lackeys leaving, but the two captains should have him more in a state. But if they all found themselves incompatible with the Hwarang, maybe it was for the best.

In the days following the departure of Gongmyung, Dongyoung, Hansol, Soonyoung and the rest of Kim's followers, you notice the compound feeling much emptier and lonelier. Around that time, Suh Kangjoon departed the Hwarang and his role as War Counselor. Even if it’s the inevitable change of things, you can’t help but see several different paths beginning to veer off the main one, unsure of where each one leads. 

𝔍𝔲𝔩𝔶 11𝔱𝔥, 664 – 𝔅𝔲𝔩𝔤𝔲𝔨𝔰𝔞 𝔗𝔢𝔪𝔭𝔩𝔢, 𝔎𝔦𝔫𝔤𝔡𝔬𝔪 𝔬𝔣 𝔖𝔦𝔩𝔩𝔞 Three months have passed since the departure of Kim Gongmyung and his men to form the Guardians of the Royal Tomb. More so, it has been three months since Hansol and Soonyoung left. Their presence, or absence of, remains blazingly obvious at times during the days that have since passed. These thoughts of them, and their reasoning for abandoning the Hwarang plague you still, as they do tonight as you toss and turn in your bed as you search for slumber.

It isn’t coming any time soon, your muscles ache from your work earlier in the day, and you’d woken up early this morning to aid with an upcoming captain’s meeting… Why aren’t you tired? You should be, right? 

Eyes shutting for the umpteenth time, trying to force yourself to sleep, you hear a voice call out to you from behind your door, a gentle knock accompanying it. “Are you awake?” The voice of the Hwarang’s commander causes you to scramble to your feet, inching closer to the door.

“Is something wrong?” You ask as you approach the door.

“You have a visitor,” voice muffled behind the wood, you can hear him shift on his feet, “Once you’re dressed, come to the main hall.”

“A visitor?” You muse as Jihoon’s footsteps lead away from your room to give you some privacy. The visitor in question confuses you, who could possibly be calling for you late at night? Regardless of their identity, you quickly dress yourself and head to the main hall. 

The figure standing there as you enter surprises you, before you’re able to question their appearance, Youngmin speaks.

“I’m sorry for disturbing your sleep,” A small smile of apology as he glances towards the newcomer.

“You look like you just rolled out of bed,” Seungkwan says snidely, a grin on his lips, “Didn’t even brush your hair?”

You begin to move your hand towards your scalp as you frown at him, but before you can touch your hair, Jihoon cuts him off. Glancing at the commander, you can see Seungcheol, Junhui, and Mingyu in the room as well.

“This isn’t the time, Boo,” Jihoon huffs and looks at you, “You look fine.”

You nod quickly at the commander before turning back to look at your guest in full, once she lays her eyes on you, she breaks out into a small smile.

“It’s good to see you again.” With all of the elegance that you had upon your first meeting, Sooyoung commandeers the room with her charisma, “I hope you’ve been well? I’m sorry for visiting so late.”

“Sooyoung?” The name falls from your lips as you stare at her, confused. It’s then you realize that another woman stands beside her, her face seems familiar as well.

Sooyoung seems to catch this, turning to her and telling you, “She’s my bodyguard, of sorts.”

“Your bodyguard?” The woman in question is almost as striking as an actress, not what you’d expect a guard to look like. 

Even more confused, you look at Jihoon, who sighs out, “…She said that it was imperative to talk to you.”

It’s obvious that he isn’t stepping into your own matters unless you allow him to, so you hum to yourself and look back to your visitor. “Why are you here, Sooyoung?” A tilt of your head as you ask, “Is something wrong?” 

“I’ll get straight to the point then,” her smile fades away and her expression becomes stern, turning to face you fully, “I’m here to take you away.” 

“Take me away…?” Brow furrowing, your foot moves instinctively to take a step back, “Why?”  

A hum as she thinks, “It’s a long story that I’m not sure how to begin.”

“There isn’t any time to discuss this,” the woman beside her says hurriedly, “We need to leave immediately if we’re to get her out of here safely.” 

“Hold on,” you interrupt the pair, “Why should I go with you two?”

“That’s a good question!” You hear Junhui speak up from behind you, “You barge in here, ask to talk to her, and demand that she leaves with you?”

“You’re not related to her, are you?” Mingyu adds questioningly, “She looks about as confused as we do.” 

“Sooyoung could you explain what’s happening a little more?” You pose, not trying to get the captains upset if there’s an actual reason for you to be worried. 

“Our intrusion would perplex anyone, I suppose,” she nods in understanding and then motions to one of the tables in the room, “This might take a while, so it’s best to be comfortable in the meantime.”

“Would you like us to stay outside?” Youngmin asks, glancing towards the open doorway into one of the temple’s courtyards.

“No,” Sooyoung says as you move to take a seat at the table she’d motioned to. “I’d like you to stay, this involves the Hwarang as well.” She takes her own seat, followed by the captains, Youngmin and Jihoon, who she observes quietly before beginning to speak. 

“I’m aware that you all have met Hong Jisoo before, right?” As she states the question a few of the Hwarang look taken aback. “You’ve fought him once or twice.”

“How do you know that?” Jihoon’s gaze hardens on the woman.

“I know most things that go on in Seorabeol,” her gaze returns the hardness of his, “Eventually.”

“You’re like him and his cronies, aren’t you?” Arms crossing over his chest as he comes to the realization. 

“I’d prefer not to be associated with him, Minghao or Minhyun, but yes, in a sense I am.” A nod of affirmation as Jihoon’s expression softens slightly.

“… You were talking about Jisoo, then.” 

“We fought him at Wonweol, Ongsan and Banwolseong,” Mingyu interjects, brow furrowed, “What are his ties with the loyalists?” 

“It seemed like he was there for his own reasons, though,” Seungkwan points out, countering the other. “Not any sort of politics.” 

“Regardless, he’s an enemy of us,” Jihoon frowns, adjusting the way he’s seated.

“Then you’re also aware that he’s pursuing her?” Sooyoung’s eyes flicker to you, the captain’s stares following suit. 

The unraveling of this truth is a story you don’t want to hear the end of. Your stomach churns uneasily as each captain looks at you, some confused, some unsure of what to do or say. Youngmin eventually breaks the silence,

“We’re well aware of that.” He coughs to clear his throat before continuing, “We also know he has comrades he calls Demons; not that we believe that, of course.”

“I’m not sure that that claim is unfounded, Chief,” Seungcheol speaks up from the swarm of captains looking at you, “They all possessed strength incomparable to any of our men. Any of our... living men, at least. Despite that, it seems as if no one really knows they exist.”

The captains shift, murmuring things too quietly for you to hear before you look back to Sooyoung, anxious for her to continue. 

“So, then you do know that they’re Demons,” a nod as she hums somewhat contently, “That will make things a little easier to explain.” Her hands fold atop one another as she places them on the table, “I’m not human either, I’m a Demon too.”

Your eyes widen, lips parting in surprise, “You are?”

“I’m actually rather high ranking,” eyes locked with yours, “something akin to a princess.” 

“My family has been guarding hers for generations,” the other woman adds, moving a bit to stand closer to Sooyoung’s chair, not having sat when everyone else did. 

“I suppose that makes more sense,” Jihoon muses, despite you still looking confusedly between the three. “I was wondering why you were so friendly that night, you were getting intel on the Hwarang, weren’t you?” 

A sly smile as the guard brushes a few strands of hair from her face, tucking them behind her ear, “I’m not quite sure what you mean.”

“You know her?” Junhui sounds shocked as he looks at Jihoon.

“Move your eyes up six inches, Junhui,” Mingyu snorts, “That’s Seulgi.” Then, it clicks, she isn’t as dressed up as she was that night, but it looks to be the kisaeng from the night the Hwarang had been in Noseo-dong. “Dressed a little differently, but that’s definitely her.” 

“Holy shi-” Junhui nearly chokes, baffled at his inability to have recognized her from before.

“Us Demons have lived on this land since before the kingdoms were even mere conceptions,” Sooyoung captures the conversation once more, “The top officials in Silla, Goguryeo, and what was once Baekje, already know of our existence. Most Demons have no interest in human affairs, preferring to be left alone. However, humans in positions of power sought to use us to benefit their own means.”

“Did the Demons comply, then?” You question softly, seeing the look of disgruntlement on Sooyoung’s face. 

“Most didn’t. Human ambition has never been strong enough to pull a Demon to get involved,” an almost angered sigh leaves her, “Yet, when the Demons refused to help, the humans were furious and sent out armies to destroy our homes and our villages. We scattered across the land and are now divided by the different kingdoms. We seldom leave our domains and remain in hiding.”

“That’s awful,” a somberness coating your words as she speaks, the lorness in her expression unsettling. 

“Many Demons went on to have children with humans, there are few of us now who can claim a pure bloodline.”

“I assume Jisoo is one of them?” Youngmin questions softly, trying to not upset Sooyoung further.

“The largest pureblood family are the Hongs, you’ve already met the head, Jisoo.” A small nod as she looks to you, “In the north, the largest clan is the Heo family. That would be yours. I heard the Demons of your family were destroyed by humans, but it seems like you’re the lone survivor.”  

“Me?” You resist the urge to point at yourself, utterly taken aback by what Sooyoung had just divulged. “That’s impossible… I-”

“I had Seulgi look into your family history to the best of her ability,” she insists with a firm shake of her head.

“It seems hard to believe,” Seulgi offers you a sympathetic smile, “but you are very much a Demon.”

At a loss for words, you stare at the two women. It’s borderline insane that this is what they’re telling you, but at the same time it would explain a few things. Why Jisoo is after you, why you heal so quickly…

“If you really are the descendent of a pureblood Demon, it’s quite clear why Jisoo is after you,” Sooyoung doesn’t finish the rest of her statement, the answer being quite clear.

“He intends to marry her,” Youngmin huffs, glancing at you and your wide-eyed expression.

“It seems so,” the woman agrees, biting her cheek, “So far it seems as if he’s only been testing the water, I’m unsure of when he’ll become more confident in his approach. If he were to use his full strength, I don’t know how you would fare in protecting her. Even the Hwarang can’t stand against the true power of a Demon.”

“Wait a minute- aren’t you going a bit too far?” Junhui asks, sounding hurt by the latter statement. 

“I don’t think you’re giving us enough credit,” Mingyu frowns, “We’re not just some foot soldiers.”

“The only reason you’re alive is because Jisoo wants you to be,” Sooyoung points out, “If he and his accomplices were to use their full strength I’m not sure what would happen.”

“Then let them,” Seungcheol’s voice rises through the unsettled quiet, “I would like to see the power of a real Demon.”

Jisoo, Minhyun and Minghao had all shown incredible strength in the prior meetings you had with them; even the Hwarang captains had trouble keeping up. If that hadn’t been the full extent of their power, you’re unsure that you want to see it. 

“Junhui and Mingyu are right,” Jihoon says, “Even if they’re stronger than the average warrior, you’re still discrediting us. The power difference wasn’t so great that they bested us easily.”

“That’s right,” Seungkwan nods and smirks at the Jihoon, “Besides, we’ve got the Demon commander himself in charge.”

“This isn’t the time for jokes, Boo,” Jihoon sighs and shakes his head.

“You must realize that these men are unlike any you’ve faced before,” there’s an almost pleading edge to Sooyoung’s voice. “Your job is to protect Seorabeol, not her. That’s why I’m asking you to leave her in our care, with us her chances of surviving one of Jisoo’s attacks will be much higher.”

“Give us a break,” Junhui says, rising to his feet and planting his palms on the table, “You’re making it sound like we can’t protect her.” 

“I’m not trying to sound rude but,” Seungkwan’s head tilts at the two women, “you think that the two of you could protect her better than us? Neither of you are a part of the Hwarang, I’m not sure why you’re going around and sticking your nose in our business.”

Sooyoung and Seulgi seem to be taken aback by the captain’s reaction. 

“What do you think, Commander Lee?” Seulgi looks towards Jihoon, her gaze narrowing, “You’ve acknowledged Jisoo’s strength, are you not at least considering Sooyoung’s offer? I think it’s in your best interest to leave her in our care.” 

“That’s different,” Jihoon looks at Seulgi, leaning back in his chair slightly, “We made a promise to her, to protect her, we’re not going to back out just because they’re Demons. And I understand that you call yourselves Demons too—but that gives us no ground to trust you.”

“Do you realize who you’re speaking to? Sooyoung is a descendant of—” 

“Seulgi,” Sooyoung stops the other with a raise of her hand, her tone calm but stern, leaving no room for more argument, “That’s not necessary.”

“I agree with Lee,” Seungcheol affirms, yet doesn’t look your way, “if she possesses blood of a different species… I’m sure her aid will come to use for our internal purposes in the very near future.”

Seulgi glares at the colonel, not speaking as to not anger Sooyoung. 

“This is a problem, then,” Sooyoung notes solemnly, “Is there no way to convince you to allow her to go with us?”

“Hold on,” Youngmin interjects, “We didn’t even confirm what she has to say about all of this.” His gaze travels to you, sympathetic in nature and looking in your eyes as if you already have an answer.

But you don’t know what to say. It’s not that you doubt the concerns of Sooyoung and Seulgi, yet there’s just more and more to take in. 

Youngmin sees your furrowed brow, eyes teeming with indecisiveness, and nods with a small smile, “It must be difficult to discuss in front of so many people. You should speak to Sooyoung privately.”

“What the hell—!” Jihoon begins to protest, but Youngmin is unwavering in his stance. 

“We’ve been ignoring her feelings for this entire conversation,” Youngmin states, “if she wishes to leave of her own accord, for her own safety, we ought to let her, no?”

“You’re too soft on people,” Jihoon scoffs, but makes no move to stop him. 

“You won’t steal her away the moment we leave you alone, will you?” Seungcheol asks as the captains rise to their feet.   

“Of course not,” Sooyoung says as she remains seated, “Once Demons make a promise, we’re bound to keep it.”

A few moments later, once the captains, commander, chief and colonel had filed out of the main hall, you lead Sooyoung to your room nestled in the compound. Seulgi had opted to stay outside, just far enough away so she wouldn’t encroach on your private conversation. 

“I apologize for giving you a terribly large number of things to think about,” Sooyoung starts off, “Normally, I would never do something like this.”

“It’s alright,” you try to reassure her with a small smile, “I’m sorry for them as well, I know they can be a little… brusque at times.”

“That’s to be expected,” she waves it off, “I know I was asking a lot of them. Not many humans would accept the existence of us so easily. But enough of that, what do you say to my offer? Do you have any thoughts on it?”

Of course you do. If it had been Sooyoung to come across you on your first night in Seorabeol, you very well may have taken her up on her hospitality. Yet now…

As if she can see the wavering of your options, Sooyoung speaks, “The Hwarang seem to believe they can protect you from everything out to get you. I don’t doubt their dedication, I do, however, doubt their ability.”

You stay silent, aware that what she just said may be true. The Hwarang are powerful, skilled in both the sword and bow. You’d seen them overcome overwhelming odds, but those odds had always been nothing but human-made. From what Sooyoung had said, the strength of a single Demon would be enough to wipe them out should they so choose. A few of you have been able to see that firsthand, and the losses associated with it. To think that that same fate could arise to a captain of the Hwarang fills you with undeniable dread. 

“With Buyeo Pung seeking aid in Goguryeo, things will only get more hectic here in the capital,” Sooyoung says to fill the silence, “If Jisoo were to strike in the hysteria, what do you think would happen? You should leave the Hwarang, let them fight without worry.”

“Sooyoung…” The concern for you seems real, frantic, almost. 

“Is there,” her expression softening as she searches yours, coming to a subtle conclusion, “a reason you want to stay?”

“…There is.” You answer without thinking it through, the words falling from you so quickly you can barely catch them. 

“One of those men, perhaps?” Innocent in nature, her question still catches you off-guard. 

“Yes,” you nod, lower lip catching between your teeth as you can’t find it within yourself to lie to her. 

For a moment she looks tense, before her posture softens and a relieved expression overcomes her, “I see… I won’t ask who, but I can understand your hesitance now. I can’t force you to leave, but should you need us, you need only ask.” 

Sooyoung and you make your way back to the main hall, the captains loiter around the space, some look anxious upon your arrival.

“Have you come to a decision?” Youngmin asks once you’ve fully stepped into the room, giving you little time to compose yourself. 

“For the time being we’ve decided to leave things as they are,” Sooyoung states, Seulgi looking at her worriedly.

“Are you sure?”

“Quite.” Sooyoung nods to her, “I believe prioritizing what she wishes is what’s most important for now.” 

“Very well,” Youngmin finds it hard to mask the smile growing on his lips, “The Hwarang accept responsibility for her well-being.” 

“Just relax and leave it all to me!” Junhui bursts out, eager to show his worth.

“I’m sure Wen’ll give you much more to worry about,” Mingyu laughs and looks at you, “It’ll be nice to still have you around.”

“What kind of girl wants to stay here?” Seungkwan chuckles, “I can’t tell if you’re brave or if you’ve had a strong lapse in judgment.”

“This doesn’t change anything,” Jihoon points out, “You’ll still be treated like you always were.” 

“Of course,” you nod, “Thank you all for letting me stay.” 

Sooyoung then moves to you, her hand finding yours as she looks into your eyes, “Please be careful, and remember, I’m on your side.”

“Thank you, Sooyoung,” you smile at her gratefully as she relinquishes the hold on your hand. She gives you one last beaming smile before her and Seulgi are off into the dark of night. 

𝔍𝔲𝔩𝔶 19𝔱𝔥, 664 – 𝔅𝔲𝔩𝔤𝔲𝔨𝔰𝔞 𝔗𝔢𝔪𝔭𝔩𝔢, 𝔎𝔦𝔫𝔤𝔡𝔬𝔪 𝔬𝔣 𝔖𝔦𝔩𝔩𝔞 In the days since Sooyoung’s visit, you find it much more difficult to drift off into a dreamless slumber. When you do dream, you find that your mind often travels to your heritage and what it means for you now and in the future, something of which you don’t want to think about. 

You had decided to stay with the Hwarang, but was that really the best choice for you, for them? Of course, you wanted to stay but would you being here cause them unneeded harm?

A sudden clang from outside causes you to jump, to leave your thoughts for a moment as your heart begins to pound. Eyes cautiously looking towards your bedroom door, your hands clench your blankets in taught anticipation. 

Several short bangs from your door cause you to rise to your feet, the voice of Jeon Wonwoo calling out to you, “I’m sorry for bothering you, but there’s an emergency!” 

“What’s wrong?” You ask, voice wrought with anxiousness as you walk towards the door, opening it to allow him inside. 

His body tense as he enters, continuously looking over his shoulder to make sure the hallway is clear, “The Demons have attacked us.” 

“What?!” Icy dread seeps through your veins at his words.

“They’re after you, which means you need to stay here.” 

“But—” You begin to protest his assertion, wanting to help in some way as the only reason the Demons are here is because of you. “Wonwoo, I have to find the others.”

“I can’t let you,” he shakes his head, a worried look in his eye as if he knows he can’t reason with you, “The Commander asked that I make sure you don’t leave.” 

“They’re here for me, though. If anyone gets hurt…” You wave away the thought, “Maybe I can try and reason with them? What if I can get them to leave peacefully?” 

Wonwoo’s lips purse, and after a moment, he shakes his head in defeat, “If you’re going to be that insistent, I don’t think I can stop you. I was told to protect you though, so if you’re going, I’m going.”

The two of you leave your room, barreling down the hallway until you’ve reached one of the inner courtyards. You stand there momentarily, unsure of where to go, until Wonwoo speaks up.

“It’s this way,” he says before something darts in front of you, pushing the officer to the ground. His body seems to fly for a few yards, hitting the ground with a thud as Wonwoo groans out in pain. As you try to run up to him, the same blur passes in front of you and you feel an arm wrap around yours.

“Where do you think you’re going?” The voice of Hong Jisoo asks you simply as you struggle to get out of his grip. His grip is like steel, unmoving and snakelike, “I heard the Park Clan visited a few days ago, I’m sure you know why I’m here, then.” 

He sighs, looking at the surrounding buildings, “You’re a Demon, a noble Demon… There isn’t any reason for you to hole yourself up with fakes.” Jisoo’s grip tightens on your arm slightly, “Come with me.” 

It’s obvious who he’s talking about when he mentioned the fakes. With the way your body tenses, Jisoo can sense your anger.

“Do you really think staying here and helping their own self-interest and agenda to create those… things is really what you should be doing?”

You find it hard to respond. For obvious reasons, you aren’t a fan of the existence of the Furies, but there were times when it was needed for a Hwarang to survive. Could you fault a man for wanting to live? Besides, your father was one of the people who created the serum, you can’t help but feel partially responsible.

“You don’t know anything about what’s going on here,” you thrash in his grip, trying to lessen his hold on you.

“So? Even if I did, are you asking me to play ignorant to what they’re actually doing?” He scoffs, looking up from you as the sound of racing footsteps approaches. 

You break your gaze away from him to see Mingyu and Jihoon running towards you, sour expressions on both of their faces.

“Breaking in again?” Jihoon frowns as he locks eyes with Jisoo, “I don’t know if you’re brave or stupid. This isn’t a gathering place for Demons, you know.”

“Barging in here to find yourself a wife,” Mingyu snickers at the Demon, “You’d think you’d have gotten the message by now.”

The sight of the two Hwarang puts you at ease a bit, even more so when you can see Chan and a handful of other wang-do behind them. There are a few missing faces among them, you wonder if they’d gotten injured in the earlier skirmishes. 

“You have no idea how important she is,” Jisoo frowns, his grip on you unrelenting still.

“So, taking her against her will just because you’re too scared of rejection is the way you’re going around this?” Mingyu nearly shouts at him, “That’s just pathetic.” 

“Even if you take her as a hostage, we’ll kill you without hesitation,” Jihoon affirms, his hand resting on the hilt of his sword. 

“I wouldn’t need to use her as leverage with the likes of you,” there’s an arrogance in his words as the Hwarang begin to encircle him. The tension pulls like a taut rope, beginning to fray as it reaches its breaking point. 

Eyes glancing down to your arm, you realize that Jisoo had left your other one free, you reach for your blade at your hip. It’s an awkward angle, but you jerk the blade from its scabbard and swing it up towards Jisoo.

He dodges it easily, his hand reaching out to grab your wrist, his grip tightens and causes you to cry out. With the force he is exerting, you feel as if your bones will break, the blade in your hand clattering to the ground. 

“You really don’t understand how powerful I am, do you?” His gaze sharpens at you, lips parting to say something else before a voice calls out.

“I’m your opponent,” Jihoon shouts, “I said before that I wouldn’t hesitate to strike you from behind!”

Your failed attack had abated Jisoo’s attention towards the commander long enough to allow him a chance to strike. Jihoon’s sword drawn from his scabbard, he arcs his blade towards Jisoo’s head. The Demon moves quickly, but with a nonchalant nature in his movements as the blade passes centimeters from his throat.

The attack was enough time for you to rid yourself from Jisoo’s grasp and run towards the commander. Jihoon’s free hand outstretches to grab your arm and pull you into him, his arm then moving to wrap around you, both catching and sheltering you. 

“I thought I told Jeon to keep you in your room,” He mutters under his breath, “You never listen, do you?” 

“I’m sorry,” you murmur, the pulsating feeling from where Jisoo had grabbed your wrist beginning to fade.

“You did good though,” Jihoon praises you, “Without your distraction I wouldn’t have gotten an opening.” His approval is somewhat shocking, not something you’re accustomed to so it takes you by surprise.

“Lee Jihoon,” Jisoo’s voice pulls you and Jihoon’s attention away from one another and towards the adversary, “Get your hands off her. She’s mine.” There’s a possessiveness in his tone that chills you to your core, a fury in his eyes that seems to have ignited after he made his recovery from Jihoon’s attack.

“The Hwarang are responsible for her,” The commander shifts, bringing you just a little closer to him, “We gave our word.”

“Come with me,” Jisoo’s attention turns to you, “You’re a member of an honorable Demon family. You shouldn’t be associated with the likes of these humans.”  

“I’m staying here,” it only takes you recalling the blatant disregard Jisoo has had for human lives on your handful of encounters with him to confirm your distaste for him. 

“You choose the humans, then?” His voice low, threatening like a cornered animal. 

“That’s too bad, Jisoo,” a laugh from outside of the circle of Hwarang, you look to see Xu Minghao pushing his way through the members. “Never thought I’d see you get rejected by a girl.”

Your eyes widen, Jihoon had had issues dealing with Jisoo alone, now that another Demon is here, you’re not sure what he’d do. 

“Commander,” another voice from outside the circle as the Hwarang break their lines to allow Seungcheol to walk through, “I apologize for being late.” He looks at Jisoo and Minghao with a small smile, “I’m afraid the Fury Corps will be your opponent this evening.” 

A wash of relief overcomes you at the sight of several members walking behind Seungcheol, although the Furies have caused issues in the past, it seems these men were on a set goal.

“You were saying some interesting things earlier,” Seungcheol muses, still looking at the two Demons. “Something along the lines of calling us fake? This would be a great opportunity to prove you otherwise.” The colonel’s eyes then turn red, his hair turning stark white as he reaches for the blade at his hip. 

“These men are ready to fight,” Minhyun, who you hadn’t seen snake his way through the men, tells Jisoo. 

“So?” Minghao scoffs, the quiver of arrows on his back rattling as he moves, “They could have a whole army of these new bloods and they still wouldn’t be a match for us.”

“There’s no need to dirty my blade with fake Demon blood,” Jisoo’s eyes flicker from Seungcheol to Jihoon, “I’ll do you a favor and not kill you all today, but that doesn’t mean I’m done here. I will be back for her.” With that, the trio break past the lines of Hwarang faster than any of the men, human or Fury, could keep up with, disappearing into the darkness outside of the compound.

“You bastards—!” Jihoon calls out after them after they’ve already disappeared.

“Should we go after them?” Seungcheol asks the commander, glancing back at his group of men. 

“No,” Jihoon shakes his head, “We can’t risk the citizens of Seorabeol seeing your unit.”

“Understood,” Seungcheol nods, “We’ll call it a night, then.” 

“Thank you, Commander,” once you were sure that the threat was gone, your body sags in relief.  

Jihoon’s grip on you relaxes and allows you to step away from him, “There’s no need to thank me. We had our reasons for wanting to protect you. Just try and get some sleep now.” He then turns to his men and orders them to find any dead or injured men around the compound. His demeanor takes on that of astute seriousness, wanting to end this as quickly as he can.

𝔍𝔲𝔩𝔶 20𝔱𝔥, 664 – 𝔅𝔲𝔩𝔤𝔲𝔨𝔰𝔞 𝔗𝔢𝔪𝔭𝔩𝔢, 𝔎𝔦𝔫𝔤𝔡𝔬𝔪 𝔬𝔣 𝔖𝔦𝔩𝔩𝔞 Mid-morning, after a tumultuous night and subsequent sleep, you trudge your way to the main hall to find the captains in some kind of meeting. Upon your entry, Eunseok turns to you and offers a small wave.

“Good morning,” he smiles and beckons you over to sit down next to him, you take him up on his offer and he speaks again, “Did you sleep well?”

“As best I could,” you respond sheepishly.

“You don’t need to lie,” Eunseok notes, “We can tell you barely slept at all.”

“Do I really look that bad?” You mutter, your fingers moving to trace the circles under your eye. A shake of your head as you turn to Chan, who sits on your other side, “How’s Wonwoo doing?” 

“The fall knocked him out cold, but aside from some minor bruises he looks like he’ll be fine,” the officer reassures you. “He wants to apologize for not doing a better job of protecting you.”

“I should be the one apologizing to him!” You claim almost exasperatedly as the door to the main hall opens and a figure strides in.

“Is something wrong, Chief?” Eunseok questions Youngmin, who looks far from the chipper mood he typically has. “I think you’re scaring her.”

“I’m sorry if I am,” he apologizes to you, “Forgive me.” The smile he gives you is fleeting, returning to the grimace that seems deep rooted into him now. 

“What happened?” You question, and he lets out a sigh.

“The monks here don’t want us staying at Bulguksa any longer.” He says as calmly as he can, a look of defeat in his eyes.

“You mean to say they’re telling us to leave?” Chan asks, a troubled expression overcoming him. 

“More or less, yes,” The leader frowns.

“I had a feeling this would happen…” Eunseok sighs out and looks at Youngmin, “What should we do?” 

The monks at Bulguksa seemed to have shifted to a pro-Guard stance since the outburst of attacks in the recent months against the Hwarang. It’s no surprise they want the Hwarang gone, but this place was just beginning to feel like home.

“Do you think last night’s incident was the last straw?” Chan poses to Youngmin, who nods in agreement.

“I don’t think, I know.” He huffs out a large amount of air, “They don’t want actual fighting on their grounds, I’m sure some councilman also had his hand in this as well.” 

“This is all my fault,” you realize as he says that, the Demon’s wouldn’t have shown up if you weren’t here.

“That isn’t true,” Youngmin tries to reassure you, “We forced ourselves in here with unreasonable demands.”

“If we need to move, we should start looking at new locations,” Chan says quickly to change the topic. 

“The monks here have already provided another temple for us to stay in,” Youngmin says, his brow furrowing. 

“That’s very… nice of them,” Eunseok states, trepidation in his voice. “They must really want us gone.”

“Yes to both,” Youngmin nods, “which is why I accepted their offer. We’re going to get busy around here soon.”

The donors to Bulguksa Temple bought a piece of land some ways away from the original site to build a new compound for the Hwarang. It lay outside of the city, further than Bulguksa or Shoshin had been, called Shoji. The new grounds has ample enough space for a bathhouse, new training buildings, and even more rooms for the Hwarang members. The members are clearly excited about it. By the time the end of the summer came around, the Hwarang had fully moved from their residence at Bulguksa to their new home in Shoji. 

𝔖𝔢𝔭𝔱𝔢𝔪𝔟𝔢𝔯 27𝔱𝔥, 664 – 𝔖𝔥𝔬𝔧𝔦 𝔗𝔢𝔪𝔭𝔩𝔢, 𝔎𝔦𝔫𝔤𝔡𝔬𝔪 𝔬𝔣 𝔖𝔦𝔩𝔩𝔞 Autumn breaks quickly after the long summer months. In August, the Crown had ordered its army to lay siege to Tolsa Fortress in the southern part of the Goguryeo Kingdom, asking for the aid of several Hwarang captains to join their ranks. The siege lasted for weeks with no eventual winner, save for Goguryeo as its stronghold hadn’t been weakened. No major events had occurred during the siege, the captains that had left, Junhui and Mingyu, returning with little to tell of their ventures to the northern kingdom.

It’s a quiet morning today, you’re cleaning up dishes from breakfast when you realize that the commander is nowhere to be found. Come to think of it, he hadn’t been present for breakfast this morning, either. Maybe he’s too busy to come out, but that doesn’t mean he shouldn’t eat something.

A few moments later you find yourself with a tray in hand, walking carefully to his room. You’ve adorned the tray with an assortment of food and a small pot of tea as well, not knowing if he was hungry or not.

“Commander,” you say as you stand in front of his door, “I’ve brought you some tea.”

“Come in,” Jihoon says after a moment, and you move to open his door. 

“Oh,” your eyes widen as you step inside, a bit taken aback by what you see.

“You can put it down anywhere,” he says, and you move to set it down, trying not to stare at him too much. He sits at the head of the room, writing something down on a piece of parchment, but that’s not what is grabbing your attention. His hair, which he usually ties up in a not atop his head, cascades down his shoulders loosely as he writes. 

“Do you need something else?” He asks, probably noticing your elongated stare.

“No,” you shake your head quickly, averting your gaze from him. 

“Then why are you here?” Jihoon questions, setting down his brush, careful not to draw his sleeve through the inkwell. “I’m a little busy.”

“Well…” You mumble, “Isn’t your hair in the way?”

“I don’t have time to tie it up, there’s too much I need to do,” he says nonchalantly, “I’ve got mountains of this shit to go through.” It’s then you notice the stacks of papers around him, all baring what looks like important seals. 

Even then, every time he moves to brush a strand of hair from his vision, he becomes even more frustrated. 

“Would you like me to tie it up for you?” 

Jihoon stays silent for a moment before turning back to his work, picking up his brush and beginning to hurriedly write, “I don’t like it when people touch my hair.” 

“I see…” you say, watching him write for a moment, not knowing what to say next.

“I appreciate the gesture,” he sighs, once again setting the brush down and moving to tie his hair up. “Now I can focus a bit more.”

“Commander? Have you eaten anything today?” You ask, looking towards the tray you’d brought in, “I brought you some snacks but if you needed a full meal, I could make you something.” 

He pauses from his work, and for a moment you think he’s forgotten about your presence entirely. “No,” Jihoon says and shakes his head, “I should be done by lunchtime. I’ll eat a lot then.” 

“Is there anything in particular you’d like?” 

“I told you that I don’t have time to eat right now,” he frowns, a small hunger pang reverberating through him.

“I meant that I’m the one cooking lunch today…” You scramble to fix your words, “So if there’s anything you want, let me know and I’ll see what I can do.” 

Jihoon now turns to fully look at you, chuckling to himself as he does so, “If you make what I want, the captains are going to be pissed.” 

“Let them be,” you shoot him a smile, “They can be as mad as they want. You’re working hard, and since I can’t help you out here, I can at least do something else for you.” 

“Food on the mind, huh?” A smile curling onto the edge of his lips, “I guess it can’t be helped then… If you back out on what I say, I’ll have it out for you, okay?” There’s a playful edge to his voice, joking, obviously, but it still catches you a bit off guard. 

“I’m ready to do what I can,” You nod eagerly.

“How about namul then?” He states simply. “Any kind will do.”

“Of course,” the words fall as you begin to think of what you’d need to make the dish. It’s not that it’s difficult to make, just time consuming as you would have to cook the variety of sides that you could find. 

“I’m looking forward to it, your cooking’s gotten a lot better recently.”

“Really?” You ask, somewhat surprised. No one’s really mentioned your cooking prowess before, you think it's okay at best. 

“The food we normally have is quick and easy to make, we don’t get much that takes time and effort. I’m sure you’ll be able to handle it though.” 

A smile creeps onto your face and you try your best to hide it, still taken aback by the continuous praise, “I’ll try my best. We get a lot of fresh vegetables this time of year.” 

“Ingredients aren’t important,” he shakes his head, “If you could try and get the northern flavor, that’d be great.” A peaceful demeanor, almost as if he’s reminiscing, overcomes him. It ignites something of a fire in you, making you want to make this the best namul he’d ever had. 

“I’ll be going then,” you say and turn on your heels, only for the commander to call out your name a second later. 

“Do I really look that tired?” Jihoon asks as your eyes meet his.

“I never meant anything like that… It’s just that I don’t get to do much for you and I’d like to do anything I can.” 

The commander frowns, staying silent for a moment. “I’m not sure what it looks like, but I only allow myself to take on jobs that I can do. If I can’t do it, then I give it to someone who can. That’s also a part of my job.” He watches your eyes for your reaction, “Being determined is always good, but if there’s something you can’t do, you can’t do it, right?” 

“…Right?” Jihoon is being serious, but for the life of you, you can’t understand what he is trying to say. 

“How do I…” He hums, tapping his foot impatiently, “What I’m saying is that you don’t need to give yourself more work. Just do what jobs you can.” 

If you did that, then you’d barely be doing anything. 

“With you here, it gives the Hwarang something to stake its pride on. Do you understand?” He breaks his gaze with you to shrug slightly, “We’ll keep you safe, you don’t need to worry.” Your silence seems to miff him, “Don’t trust me?” 

“No, of course not!” You exclaim shortly, trying to keep your outburst to a minimum. 

“Then put on a brave face and don’t worry over what you can’t control,” he sighs, “that’s what everyone else here does.” 

“Commander…” you feel warm at his words of assurance. 

“I’ll stop lecturing you now,” Jihoon looks back to you, “I’m sorry for holding you.” He reaches for the cup of tea you’d brought him before looking back to his paperwork. 

“Thank you…” You know he’s driven by a ravenous determination to never look at Hong Jisoo or any other Demon out there, and that asking for help from others isn’t who he is, yet… To hear him say that in front of you, in and of itself, is some part of that resolve. Even though he can’t see you now, you give him a bow before you leave the room. 

𝔑𝔬𝔳𝔢𝔪𝔟𝔢𝔯 1𝔰𝔱, 664 – 𝔖𝔢𝔬𝔯𝔞𝔟𝔢𝔬𝔩, 𝔎𝔦𝔫𝔤𝔡𝔬𝔪 𝔬𝔣 𝔖𝔦𝔩𝔩𝔞 It’s windy today, you noticed it first when you awoke, the hiss of air swarming in through unsealed cracks and pockets of air where the doors don’t meet their frames. You notice it still when the last of the leaves are stripped from their branches as you and Mingyu walk to the city center. And you’re noticing it now, the slice of the cold cutting through your clothes and chilling you to the bone. 

“It is almost winter, isn’t it?” Mingyu muses as he catches you shivering involuntarily, “The wind coming in from the coast isn’t helping. If this is what it’s like during the day, I kind of feel bad for the guys who patrol at night.” 

Your hands clench as he huffs out a laugh that turns into clouded vapors, “Are your hands cold? Want me to hold them for you?” 

You know he’s joking by the way you get flustered and tell him no, him laughing again as you continue to walk down the street. Looking up from your embarrassed haze, you spot someone walking towards you.

“Isn’t today great?” Junhui asks as he approaches, his arms outstretching as if to embrace the chilled air.

“Unfortunately, not all of us can act like human torches,” Mingyu shakes his head, “I still don’t know how you’re not affected by the cold.”

“Look at who’s talking Mr. I’ll-Break-Code-and-Wear-My-Summer-Clothes,” Junhui scoffs. Now that he mentions it, Mingyu is wearing his Hwarang blues, but the white cloth of his sleeves doesn’t look to be the thick linen typically worn during the colder months.

Even if Junhui was meaning to scold him, you know he means it in the friendliest way possible. Their friendship is wrought with things like this: what seems to be an argument but is really them caring for one another. You can’t help but chuckle at the two.

“Why’re you smiling like that?” Junhui asks when he catches your expression.

“She probably thinks your face is funny, you should really do something about that…” Mingyu pokes, a teasing cadence to his voice.

“It’s not that,” you shake your head, “I was just remembering the last time we met each other on your rounds, I was with Seungkwan and Soonyoung then.” The latter name brings a bitterness to your tongue, still unsure of how to feel about Soonyoung and Hansol leaving the Hwarang on such short notice. The two men’s faces turn sour at the mention of their friend.

“I just meant that with everything going on… it makes me a little nostalgic,” you say, trying to shake off the thought.

“The Hwarang’s changed,” Mingyu nods with a sigh, “Hell, so has everything else. Youngmin’s been promoted and all.”

Youngmin’s promotion didn’t mean he left the Hwarang entirely, but it meant he traveled often to speak with other generals and assess the threat of another Baekje plot. Rumors of Buyeo Pung raising an army in Goguryeo had been circulating recently, putting everyone on edge once again. You thought Youngmin’s promotion to be a good thing for the Hwarang, yet with Junhui and Mingyu’s reaction, they seem less than thrilled.

“We didn’t join to be the Crown’s guard dogs,” Junhui shakes his head. While the Hwarang had been surface level related to the Crown, only receiving orders when necessary, they now take orders directly.

“How is this going to change for everyone going forward?” You ask the pair, trying to focus on them and not the whirlwinds of conversations happening along the busy street.

“Well, if we really do need to fight against another one of Buyeo Pung’s rebellions, we won’t just be killing off the tail end of his followers. We’ll probably be put on the front lines.” Mingyu frowns, not too certain what to think of that idea.

“Supposedly, it was Yoon Jeonghan. He’s been making efforts to get Baekje back on its feet,” Junhui’s shoulders shrug, “Because of that I heard some factions of the revivalists are pissed at him because they were trying to win Pung’s favor.”

“He already had a target on his back within the Silla government for being a Baekje revivalist, he’s hated by most of the kingdoms now.” Mingyu muses, looking up to the sky for a moment. “Until something happens though, I suppose things are going to stay as they are.”

“And they will, it’s not like they can do anything about what the kings want to do,” Junhui nods. “They’ll only get involved once the king starts asking them to ration their food again to send it off to war.”

As you look around the street, you want to think that he’s right. The city kept thriving even under the threat of another invasion or war… Life continues regardless of what the higher powers of the kingdoms are plotting. You look up to Junhui, words falling out of you before you can catch them,

“I never realized you were so interested in politics.”

“Didn’t realize?” He looks slightly taken aback, his arms crossed over his chest, “What exactly did you think of me?”

“Uhm…” You cough into your hand, looking away from him, “Let’s continue our rounds. It’s nearly winter which means the sun’s going to start setting earlier...”

𝔑𝔬𝔳𝔢𝔪𝔟𝔢𝔯 7𝔱𝔥, 664 – 𝔖𝔥𝔬𝔧𝔦 𝔗𝔢𝔪𝔭𝔩𝔢, 𝔎𝔦𝔫𝔤𝔡𝔬𝔪 𝔬𝔣 𝔖𝔦𝔩𝔩𝔞 The name Yoon Jeonghan had only been said once before, that you can recall. He seemed to be an instigator for a few of the Baekje-Silla skirmishes as of late and the kingdoms were desperate to find him. Yet, after a few negotiations with Tang and Silla leadership, it seems as if he had betrayed his loyalty to the Silla powers and had begun to help the two allies. You don’t know much about the logistics of it, but when Eunseok brings him up, you’re a bit startled by what he says.

“Yoon Jeonghan has been assassinated.” Eunseok states the news in the main hall, among the collection of captains who linger there after their morning practice.

“Are you serious?” Mingyu questions, “Do they know who did it?”

“Could have been someone from Silla or it could’ve been someone from the loyalists,” Junhui shrugs, “Hell, it could’ve been personal. If it was, I bet it was that Huang guy.”

“If he was going to get killed, I wish I could’ve done it myself,” Seungkwan sighs, crossing his arms.

“That’s not very funny, coming from you,” Junhui frowns as he looks at the other captain. “Weren’t we told to leave him alone?”

You’d never met Jeonghan, in fact, you barely know who he was or what he did. Yet somehow you feel that his death means something important to the kingdom, as if the already rising unease has skyrocketed.

“You all know the orders to leave him alone came from the Crown,” Eunseok nods gravely, “The rest of the kingdom isn’t going to see it that way. A scabbard belonging to a member of the Hwarang was left at the scene of his death. An official investigation by the Guard has been launched.”

“Is a scabbard really enough evidence?” You ask, feeling worry begin to claw its way down your spine.

“If it’s not I’m sure they’ll ‘find’ some more when it comes time,” Mingyu huffs as he looks back to Eunseok, “Who are they saying it belongs to?”

“They actually say it’s yours, Mingyu.” Eunseok frowns as the elder’s eyes widen.

“Really Kim?” Seungkwan sounds somewhat amused, “I wish you’d taken me along.”

“Cut it, Boo.” Mingyu’s voice is sharp as he motions to his waist, “My scabbard’s right here. If they’re going to make shit up they should at least do it better.”

“I don’t suspect you,” Eunseok points out and gestures to the others in the room, “I’m sure no one else here does either. Unfortunately, I’m not sure that the rest of the kingdom won’t try to pin the blame on you… I’m sure they’re having trouble finding the real culprit. Those who don’t think it’s you are looking at Huang Renjun, they say that he hired us to kill Yoon.” Was that the Huang that Junhui had mentioned earlier?  

“I’m sure most of the king’s chamber are eager to pin this on us though,” Junhui shakes his head, “Ever since the rumors of Baekje started again, the king only appointed staunchly pro-Royal Guardian and Guard nobles. Unless someone lied though, there’s no way this murder was done by one of us.”

“Unless Seungcheol decided to go and do it off the record,” Seungkwan notes, a slight smirk on his lips.

“How… is he these days?” Mingyu asks, a worried expression on his face. The last few times you’d come across him, he seemed to be acting stranger and stranger. Even if you didn’t want to believe it, something like this wasn’t far out of his realm of possibility. Whenever you pass him in the halls, it looks as if he’s hungry, thirsty for blood.

“We’ll have to be careful,” Junhui says, a hand running through his hair, “If we let people know about the Furies…”

“About that,” Jihoon interjects as he walks into the room, followed by Youngmin. It looks as if he’s going to say something else but the third figure that walks in takes everyone by surprise that whatever the commander is trying to say gets drowned out.

“Hansol?” Junhui nearly gasps out, “What the hell are you doing here?!”

For a moment, you question whether you’re asleep or not. The man who had just entered the hall was the same man who’d left months ago with Gongmyung and his men, Choi Hansol.

“Hansol,” Eunseok says, a smile overcoming him, “What happened with Gongmyung’s organization?”

“Why are you so nonchalant about this?” You ask him as you look at Hansol. “There’s no way the commander would allow someone from Gongmyung’s group here, we’re not even supposed to be talking to them—”

“Just,” Jihoon sighs out, trying to get the energy in the room to settle, “Let me talk. Starting today, Choi’s returned to the Hwarang.”

“What?” Mingyu sounds surprised, his once crossed arms falling to his sides. “Hold on, Lee, we’re glad he’s back but… What happened to Gongmyung?”

“You’re mistaken, but understandably so,” Hansol speaks, and you feel a sense of calm wash over you. It’s been too long since you’d heard him last. “I was never one of his supporters.”

“In fact, he joined Gongmyung under Jihoon’s direct orders,” Youngmin says with a coy smile, “As a spy, of sorts.” With the leader’s words, everything begins to make sense.

“I can’t believe you went off and had fun without me,” Seungkwan faux pouts at Hansol.

“I’m sorry we had to keep this from you,” Youngmin’s head bows down in apology. It’s a surprise for sure, but nonetheless a welcome one.

You give Hansol a small smile but he only sighs and shakes his head, “I’m afraid it’s a bit early to feel relieved.” His gaze turns to Jihoon, “The last six months have made Gongmyung’s intentions clear. Gongmyung plans to uproot the Hwarang institution in favor of his ideal one.”

“What do you mean by uproot?” Eunseok asks with a frown.

“Gongmyung is going to expose the Furies to force the king’s favor,” Jihoon bites the inside of his cheek as he holds in a scathing retort.

“There’s more,” Hansol adds and glances at Youngmin, “They plan to assassinate the Leader of the Hwarang.”

Youngmin’s face is tense, gaze hardening as he looks at Jihoon and waits for him to speak. You feel your stomach drop, not realizing the extent to which Gongmyung hated the Hwarang.

“The Guardians are moving to destroy us,” The commander says and looks to Mingyu, “You heard about Yoon?”

“That they’re trying to pin it on me?” A nod, “Yeah.”

“They’re using it to pin blame on us and to discredit your father,” Jihoon crosses his arms, “They’ve been spreading the rumor across Seorabeol, even if Huang says that he wasn’t the one who ‘hired’ us, there’s still going to be people who believe it was our doing.” His gaze travels to Hansol, “So, Choi’s going to be guarding Huang for the time being. If it looks like he left and then came back, it won’t be hard for Gongmyung to figure us out.”

A subtle nod from the captain, “Of course.”

The room stays quiet, so quiet that one can hear the wind whistling in from outside. A tension remains taught in the room, anticipatory for what’s to come and the outcome of what it brings.

“Kim Gongmyung…” The name leaves Jihoon in a hushed murmur, “It’s not enough for him to expose the Fury Corps, but to try and kill Youngmin too?” It’s almost as if he’s having a quiet conversation with his former comrade. He shakes his head, drawing his gaze from the floor and looks to the captains, “It’s too bad that it has to end this way, but we have no other choice. Gongmyung dies.”

“It can’t really be helped, can it?” Youngmin exhales, nodding solemnly as if to seal the former Deputy Commander’s fate.

“We’ll invite Gongmyung to Youngmin’s residence in Seorabeol, I’ll be there too,” Jihoon begins, his voice low, commanding, “Once he’s dead we’ll use his corpse to lure the rest of his Guardians there and kill them.” He looks to Mingyu and Junhui, “I’m assigning both of you and your divisions to this, take care of it.

“Who do you want me to kill?” Seungkwan asks, his hand resting atop the hilt of his sword.

“No one, you’re staying here.” When he sees the other beginning to protest, the commander speaks again, “You’ve still got that cough, right? You’re sick. Hansol can keep you company for a few days.”

“So, you’re telling me I can’t participate in the assassination of a person who’s trying to kill our leader?” Seungkwan sounds agitated, a bitterness coating his words as he glares at Jihoon, “You’re a real asshole.”

You don’t realize that you’ve been watching the scene unfold in silent shock until you feel a gentle tap on your shoulder. Turning, you see Hansol standing there, he seems to take in a breath before speaking.

“The Guardians of the Royal Tomb are going to be destroyed after this… If we want Soonyoung to return, this is our only chance of getting him back.”

Eyes widening at what he says, he’s right. If the Hwarang mean to kill the Guardians, that includes Kwon Soonyoung.

Sucking in a breath, you look at Jihoon, “Commander? What are we going to do about Soonyoung? He’s a part of the Guardians…”

“Don’t be silly,” Junhui says easily, “Of course we’ll save hi—”

“If he fights us, he dies.” Jihoon interrupts, cutting off the captain.

“You can’t mean that—” Heart beginning to pound in your chest, your mind going blank. Is Jihoon serious? “You’ve known Soonyoung for so long, surely you don’t mean that?”

Jihoon looks as if he wants to push you away, turning on his heels and exiting the main hall swiftly.

“You’re actually going to order them to kill Soonyoung?!” You cry out after him, finding yourself following his footsteps, “Just because he left the Hwarang means you don’t care if he lives or dies?!” Before you’re actually able to leave the main hall, a hand grabs the back of your robes and pulls you into the room.

“I know that he wants to save him too,” Youngmin’s voice says softly as you turn to face him, his hand letting go of your clothes. “There’s no way he could possibly live with giving the command to kill a friend who was part of our family for years.” His hands clench at his side, so much so his knuckles turn white and you fear his nails have pierced his skin.

In this moment you realize how much each of the Hwarang are suffering with this.

“I’m sorry for saying that,” you bow your head to him after your realization.

“There’s no need,” Youngmin sighs, “You’re angry. We all are. It makes me happy though, I’m glad people care about Soonyoung.” He lets out a heaving sigh before turning toward Mingyu and Junhui, “I’m not asking this as your Leader, but as Kwak Youngmin… Let Soonyoung live, if you can. Try to convince him to rejoin the Hwarang.”

“… Got it,” Junhui says quickly as Mingyu takes a moment more to think.

“His life in our hands?” He shakes his head, “That’s a big responsibility.”

“I trust everything’s clear, then?” Youngmin asks, scanning the faces of the captains, “If you have questions, now is the best time to ask.”

“…Wait,” you speak up, unable to stop yourself. The leader looks to you as you brace yourself, “I haven’t been given any orders. I want to help.”

“This is an… unseemly job.” Youngmin looks at you, brow contorted, “Nothing like Wonweol or Ongsan. You shouldn’t be involved.”

He’s right. This isn’t a mandated order from a higher official, this was the Hwarang’s business alone, a covert and self-righteous one at that. They aren’t meant to guard or patrol, they’re set on murder. Still, you want to do what you can.

“Please, let me be a part of it,” You implore, “I promise I won’t get in the way.”

“This isn’t like anything else you’ve been a part of,” Junhui says gently, “You understand that, right?”

“We’re killing someone who used to be a Hwarang.” Mingyu adds soberly, unable to look you in the eye. “And even if we don’t want to, we may end up killing Soonyoung.”

“I know it’s serious.” The Hwarang, as prim and proper as they like to see themselves a majority of the time, have carried out these sorts of missions before. There wasn’t any way you could stay with them if you hadn’t known, but this burden was too much to bear alone. “If it’s too presumptuous, please tell me, but I consider myself a member of the Hwarang at this point. And because we’re going through this, I want to help however possible.”

“Tell me then, how do you intend to help?” Youngmin’s face has lost its usual warmth. Anger not cruelness takes shape on his expression, but the gravity of the situation at hand seems to age him a handful of years. He seems like a weathered general addressing his troops.

“I want to help with Gongmyung.”

Youngmin seems to stare at you, analyzing your thought process with fierce determination.

“Very well then,” he nods once, “You may accompany us.”

𝔑𝔬𝔳𝔢𝔪𝔟𝔢𝔯 9𝔱𝔥, 664 – 𝔖𝔥𝔬𝔧𝔦 𝔗𝔢𝔪𝔭𝔩𝔢, 𝔎𝔦𝔫𝔤𝔡𝔬𝔪 𝔬𝔣 𝔖𝔦𝔩𝔩𝔞 Whether out of courtesy or want to humiliate his former leader, Kim Gongmyung accepts Youngmin’s invitation to his home several days after the plan to assassinate him came to be. Kwak Youngmin and Lee Jihoon stand at the head of the room, speaking quietly to one another before the sound of approaching footsteps enters the room. You stand in the corner of the dimly lit area as Gongmyung walks in, an air of proudness about him.

“Why am I honored with the privilege of being summoned here this evening?” Gongmyung asks, looking around the room. “I can surmise you wish to ask me something?”

“I called on you because I was hoping to have a discussion,” Youngmin says with a confident grin, “It’s about the current political climate. You, as well as me, must have seen that we need to come to a consensus on how to move on from here.”

“Let’s save the business talk for later,” Jihoon says, “Let’s try to get warmed up first.”

You move to sit at the small table set up in the center of the room, several bottles of gokaju littering the tabletop. Jihoon reaches out to pour Gongmyung a cup, the latter noting this,

“I never thought I’d see the day where Lee Jihoon pours me a cup of alcohol.”

“Don’t say it like that,” the commander chuckles, “I wasn’t faced with as formal an education as you, it just took me a bit to learn the proper etiquette. We’ve come to realize that you were right this whole time."

“With your politeness, I can’t help but feel a little… off.” Gongmyung notes as he lifts the glass of gokaju, “You’re not trying to poison me, are you?”

“Don’t trust me?” Jihoon shakes his head, moving to pour himself a cup before downing it quickly. “Not poisoned, am I?” An eyebrow quirked to the Guardian as he set down his glass.

“I never meant to offend—” Gongmyung states and sips from his cup.

The three continue to drink, you pouring most of the glasses, with Gongmyung becoming more and more reddened with the amount of alcohol the two Hwarang and you ply him with.

“Are you familiar with Dong Sicheng’s ‘On the State of Being’?” Gongmyung slurs his words together as he speaks to the two, “On what it means to find peace in the life you were given? That was written twenty years ago! Do you know how much has changed since the fall of Baekje?”

“You’re right,” Youngmin nods in agreement, “The Crown has implemented so many new things that I can’t quite keep up with it myself.”

“So, you agree!” Gongmyung nods vehemently, “And to add to that, they’re looking for help from the Tang to help educate the troops! And dress like them as well!”

“Is that true?” Youngmin asks, looking a bit taken aback.

“Of course, it is, all of my sources are very reliable,” Gongmyung says after downing another cup of gokaju. “If you ask me, this spells out a rocky relationship once this Baekje mess is over. If we leave ourselves with Tang customs, there’ll only be little left of Silla’s own design in its own kingdom!”

“I see…” Jihoon nods. His lips smile as if he agrees but a different, burning fire behind his eyes tells a different tale. “This means we’ll have to rethink a lot of things, right, Chief?”

“You’re right,” the shock that had once lain on Youngmin’s face is gone, replaced with a cheery smile. “Gongmyung, it would be such an honor if you would continue to guide us on such matters in the future.”

“Confucius once said: ‘Gentlemen are undignified if they are frivolous, and they aren’t stubborn after learning.’ So, yes,” Gongmyung nods, “Of course I’ll help you. If you all don’t open your minds to proper knowledge, you’ll just become hard-headed.”

“We may be on different paths, but we are headed for the same destination,” Jihoon nods, “Your glass seems empty, would you like another drink?”

“Yes, please.” Gongmyung motions towards his empty cup, “This gokaju is very easy to drink.”

“Here you are,” you say, pouring some of the contents of the bottle in your grasp into his drink. There isn’t poison within the alcohol, yet you were making Gongmyung drunk now to murder him later. Although this felt no more different than pouring poison into his glass.

“Your hands are shaking,” Gongmyung notes as you manage to drop a few beads of gokaju onto the table as you pull the bottle away from his glass, “You’re not feeling ill, are you?”

“Ah, don’t worry about him, he’s probably just nervous about speaking to you,” Youngmin waves it off with a small laugh.

“Am I that intriguing?” The Guardian chuckles as he looks at you.

“He does have his moments,” Jihoon says, his eyes flickering to you. “You need a little self-control sometimes.” His subtle message is clear: hide your emotions. It had been your choice to be here, the least you can do now is to not screw it up.

“I’m sorry,” you say to Gongmyung and move to wipe up the droplets with your sleeve.

“Oh, don’t be so boring,” Gongmyung laughs, “We’re having fun!”

“Truly a man worthy of distinction,” Youngmin nods as he looks at the man.

“You flatter me,” he sighs out with a smile, “Is there anything else you want to ask me? I can answer anything.”

The minutes turn into hours, Gongmyung is drunk, stumbling to the street as you, Youngmin and Jihoon follow him.

“Thank you for the meaningful conversation,” he says as he spins on his heels, looking towards Youngmin. “I’ll take my leave now.”

“It’s dark out,” Youngmin notes the dimness of the street, “Please be careful on your way back home.”

“There’s no one who would dare kill me in Seorabeol,” Gongmyung almost snickers at the thought, drunkenly sauntering away into the darkness of the city’s streets. You watch his silhouette fade into the blackness, noting that it would be the last time you’d see him alive. A hand on your shoulder has you looking away, turning, and you see Youngmin looking at you.

“…It’s a bitter taste, isn’t it?” The frown on his lips is telling as you sigh.

“It’s the path we chose,” Jihoon shakes his head, “Our duty. In order for us to do what’s right, sometimes we need to get our hands dirty.” You feel conflicted, unable to say anything as you stand on the quiet street. “This isn’t on you or Kwak, though,” the commander says, sensing your unease. “I was the one who orchestrated it, I gave the orders.”

What happened later that night is something you’d rather forget. Gongmyung, too inebriated to walk in a straight line, was quickly killed by the Hwarang waiting for him. But that didn’t end the night. Junhui was met with a bloody fight outside of the Guardians building, Seungkwan was faced with fate at Shoji. For many of the Hwarang, it is a night after which nothing would be the same.

The assassination of Kim Gongmyung and the dissolvement of the Guardians of the Royal Tomb comes to be known as the Samsil Incident. Both the Guardians and the Hwarang were surprised by the sudden appearance of the Royal Guard and the Demons who accompanied them. Both parties had fallen for the trap and the fight was thrown into a mass disarray.

As the battle of Samsil was taking place, the headquarters of the Hwarang came under attack from Hong Jisoo. Causing the already ill Seungkwan to further injure himself fending off the attacker.

The serum that your father brought to the Hwarang seems to only be a cause for worry. Slowly devouring the organization piece by piece. How long until the serum swallows them whole?

𝔇𝔢𝔠𝔢𝔪𝔟𝔢𝔯 2𝔫𝔡, 664 – 𝔖𝔥𝔬𝔧𝔦 𝔗𝔢𝔪𝔭𝔩𝔢, 𝔎𝔦𝔫𝔤𝔡𝔬𝔪 𝔬𝔣 𝔖𝔦𝔩𝔩𝔞 Barely a month since Gongmyung’s murder, since the Samsil Incident and the return of Soonyoung and Hansol, but the Hwarang feels nothing like it once was. A looming, dark atmosphere hangs over the headquarters. Many men had lost their lives or had been injured due to Jisoo’s attack, even more had been wounded in the fight of Samsil, Soonyoung being one of them. Several of the wang-do had seen him almost succumb to the injuries he’d sustained during the battle, due to this, he was pronounced dead but joined the Fury Corps shortly after. Hansol hadn’t been wounded, but many of the Hwarang began to call him a coward.

To them, his betrayal of leaving the Hwarang still runs deep, worsened as they saw him leaving the Guardians to change his fate. You see no reason why he shouldn’t correct them: he’d left to help the Hwarang, not deceive them. He claims that he’ll keep quiet on the matter, as to not tarnish both Youngmin and Jihoon’s names, who had ordered him to join Gongmyung. Due to this, it has been decided that Hansol will leave Shoji for the time being, until the hot-headed tempers of some of the Hwarang recede. He’s been sent to protect Huang Renjun, a Tang noble residing in the northern part of the kingdom.

The Samsil Incident was in no small terms a turning point for the Hwarang. For the men who knew only the surface level details, it seems as if it were just a battle between the Hwarang and their former comrades. Those better informed know that it is the causation due to a culminating fear of another Baekje rebellion. Yoon Jeonghan’s death solidified that as truth. And further still: the Hwarang are the only ones who know of the Demons, and Soonyoung’s transformation into a Fury. They’re the only ones who know Seungkwan’s illness has gotten worse.

Such an event riled the compound, a moment of silence scarce in the days following the battle. Feeling as you would only be in the way during this time, you keep to your room.

You’re sitting cross-legged at your desk, wondering if writing your thoughts down may help you try and conceptualize this all, when your door opens without a knock.

“Thank goodness you’re here,” Seungcheol says as he steps into your room. “If you’d left, I wouldn’t have been able to search for you.”

“Seungcheol?” You look up to him, confused at his appearance. “It’s daytime, are you okay?”

“Yes, yes,” Seungcheol nods his head, his voice sounding a little frantic. “I just had a revelation and had to share it with you immediately.” His eyes glitter with… a dangerous curiosity and you feel spindly cold fingers of dread scratch down your back.

“Why me?” Questioning carefully, “Wouldn’t you want to tell the Chief or Commander first?”

“…Well, it has to be you.” A small frown pulling at his lips, “Won’t you listen to me?” Although in the form of a question, the way he asserts himself lets you know you have no choice. “Sooyoung claimed you are from a Demon family, right?” He doesn’t allow you to respond before he begins to speak. “And as a Demon, you’re stronger, faster and more resilient than a human. Their superiority over humans was clearly displayed during their most recent attack.”

“I understand that,” you nod slowly, “But what are you trying to say?”

“A Demon possesses more power than the average human, it follows that the blood of a Demon possesses that power as well,” His deductions begin to unsettle you, despite that, he continues, “Perhaps even potent enough to counteract the madness of the Furies.”

You’re unsure how the pimul works, but Seungcheol’s explanation seems logical, even if he’s somewhat frenetic about it.

“Since before I became a Fury, I’ve been researching how the serum works, I know more about it than anyone here.” Seungcheol pauses and shakes his head, “Yet, I still have yet to discover the exact composition of it. I hypothesize, however, that a core ingredient is fresh blood… And I’m assuming not from a human. Perhaps there are Demons or Demon-like beings roaming throughout the other kingdoms.”

“So…” You trail off, still not able to follow him completely.

Seungcheol takes a step closer to you, falling to his knees as you continue to sit at your desk, “Your very existence could save the Fury Corps… No,” He shakes his head, “The entirety of the Hwarang.” His eyes turn sharp, piercing, even, as he looks at you. The barest trace of mania in his voice as he confesses his thoughts. His hand reaches for the sword at his hip, calmly and carefully drawing it from the scabbard.

There seems to be no madness or bloodlust in his movements, but that only serves to terrify you even more.

“I’m not going to kill you,” He tries to reassure you, but your heart’s beating too quickly and your limbs feel too heavy to move away from him, “I just want a sample of your blood…” Seungcheol begins to rise to his feet, that’s when you find yourself mirroring him, taking a step or two backwards to distance yourself from him.

The blade glimmers in the sunlight as he raises it, raising it towards you before you hear a shout from the hallway.

“Seungcheol, what the hell are you doing?!” Jihoon bursts into the room, quickly looking from the colonel to you as if to gauge the situation. “What’s going on here? Of all people, you should know not to draw your sword on someone in the compound, have you lost it?”

“Jihoon,” Seungcheol smiles when he sees him, “Please, give me a hand here. Convince her to cooperate with us.”

With an assertive quiet, Jihoon steps between you and Seungcheol. “Personal conflicts are forbidden, the O Gye apply to even us.”

The colonel stares at Jihoon for a moment, and then another before begrudgingly sheathing his sword.

“Did she do something to upset you?” Jihoon asks one it seems as if Seungcheol’s cooled down.

“I’m searching for a way to treat the madness caused by becoming a Fury, for the good of us all,” Seungcheol says simply, his hand still resting on the hilt of his sword.

“And that means you have to cut her?”

“It’s not like I’m going to kill her,” Seungcheol frowns and shakes his head, “I only need a little of her blood. We lost so many Furies during the attacks, many of our human wang-do as well. If we are to effectively use the men we have left— We need to find a way to temper their madness. Surely you understand this, Jihoon.”

“The code says we’re to trust one another,” His gaze hardens at the colonel, “It doesn’t look like she’s very trusting of you right now. No matter your reasoning, I cannot condone this if either party is unwilling, or coerced into submitting.”

“It’s not as if she’s one of the Hwarang,” Seungcheol points out.

“Maybe not, but she’s been here long enough to might as well be one.” The two continue to stare at each other for a while, their stubbornness present at the matter.

Seungcheol eventually sighs, “It isn’t like you to be this soft. I’ll leave for now. But if we don’t find a way to suppress the side effects of the pimul… Even Soonyoung will suffer like the rest.” He leaves on that note, you don’t exhale until you hear his footsteps wane away into nothing.

Jihoon hums, looking at the door and then turning to you, “Are you okay?”

“Oh, yes,” You nod, “Thank you…”

“Nothing to thank me for,” He bows his head, “I was making sure he was adhering to our code.” His gaze returns to the door, “In the past, he wouldn’t have challenged me like that.”

A slow nod as your eyes find the door, lingering there for a moment. It’s turn, Seungcheol had been acting more and more strange lately. He would never have drawn his sword aggressively, or demanded things from you without consulting the other Hwarang first. “… I’m sorry.”

“Is something wrong with you?” Jihoon questions, his attention turning rapt to you, “There isn’t anything to be apologetic for.”

“The reason he was acting like that…” You frown, “Because Jisoo destroyed the Fury Corps.”

Jihoon seems to reflect on this for a moment before responding, “I think you’re confused.”

“Hong Jisoo has allied himself with our enemies, be it in the court or Baekje. If an enemy attacks us, it’s known that we’re going to put our lives on the line to stop them.” There’s conviction in his voice yet you cannot help the guilt that invades you.

“It isn’t your sole duty to protect me, though.”

“What are you trying to say?” His arms cross as he tilts his head, “Want us to hand you over to the Demons in the hopes they’ll spare our lives? Just because they’re more powerful than us? That isn’t how we work.” Jihoon’s confident in his claim, and you feel no way to object to it. Even if he won’t say it, having you leave the compound would make their live exponentially less dangerous, it would be a violation of the values they pride themselves in upholding.

“I’m sorry if what I said was out of line,” apologizing once more, you bow your head.

“I already told you to stop apologizing, don’t make me repeat myself,” He murmurs under his breath, timidly looking in your direction. “The next time something like this happens, tell me. Don’t keep it to yourself.”  

“I understand,” you look at him and nod. Jihoon then turns to leave, but there’s one thing left you have to say.  “Commander…”

He stops and looks back to you, “Is there something else?”

“Is there anything I can help you all with?” With Youngmin busy with the Crown, Hansol protecting Huang and Jihoon himself tirelessly working, you feel wrong not aiding in some way.

“Help?” He sounds almost incredulous. Has he become upset at your question?

“It could be anything…”

The silence stretches throughout the room, saturating the space for a moment.

“You may be more discreet than some of our men…” He seems to muse for a second, “Brush and paper.”

“Huh?” You ask, looking at him with confusion.

“Do you have a brush and paper?” Jihoon asks as he glances around your room.

“Of course,” you reply and quickly rummage around your room for the materials. After a few moments you gather the items and he sits at the desk in your room, staying silent as he quickly begins to draw. It looks to be a rudimentary map of sorts, having you question, “What is… that?” He ignores you and continues to draw.  

“Hansol is in Noseo-dong guarding Huang, right?”

“Right,” you nod, looking down to the paper.

“I want you to visit him,” Jihoon says before gently blowing air onto the ink, hoping to dry it faster. “Do you think you can? You won’t stand out as much as one of our men.”

“Yes, of course,” You say enthusiastically, excited to do something, and even more overjoyed that it’s especially catered to you.

“I drew you a map,” He says, lifting the edges of the paper and handing it to you, “So you don’t get lost.” Without it, you may have, only really knowing the select routes of several of the captains’ patrol when it’s your turn.

“I’ll get going, then.” Taking the parchment into your grasp, you begin to turn on your heels towards the door before the commander stops you.

“It’ll be hard to deliver a message you haven’t heard…” His voice stops you in your tracks and you whip around to face him, “I know it’s been a while since you’ve been out,  but you’re getting a little too excited.”

“I’m sorry!” Exclaiming with widened eyes as you look at him.

As you speak, he quickly writes something down on another piece of parchment, he lets it dry for a moment, carefully folding the paper before handing it to you. “This is a letter for Captain Choi, make sure you don’t drop it… or lose it.”

“I’ll be very careful,” you say as the parchment folds in your grasp, “Is there anything you want me to say to him?”

“Everything I need to say is in that letter,” he nods, glancing at the paper.

“I’ll be off then,” you state and hurriedly leave the room, anxious to begin your mission.

The streets of Seorabeol are busy once again, the crowds closely knit together, not allowing you any space to slide past the throng of bodies. Jihoon’s map, unfolded haphazardly in your hands, guides you to Noseo-dong and leads you through several side streets, winding your way around the district until you come upon one of the most unassuming inns you have ever seen. On the map, Jihoon had written that Hansol’s name should be under ‘Seola’.

Making your way inside, you walk to who you presume to be the innkeeper, you ask to speak with your friend and they’re off, Hansol walking out shortly after.

“A Ha—I mean Seola,” you say with a nod, “I’m sorry for bothering you.”

“Oh,” he says, almost genuinely surprised, “I didn’t realize they’d send you.”

“I’m sure you weren’t expecting someone as inexperienced,” You give out a short laugh.

“No,” he shakes his head to dismiss your thought, “I was only surprised. I expected to receive new orders soon, but I didn’t expect that you’d be the one to deliver them.”

“Ah, well, I asked if there was anything to do to help and…” You mutter, reaching for the letter you’d tucked away on your belt.

“I can see the commander’s thinking,” Hansol muses and reaches out to take the parchment, “It’s a good plan. Any other Hwarang would’ve drawn unnecessary attention to this place. The new members can’t be trusted yet, either. You, on the other hand, can move unnoticed, and your loyalty is beyond question. He really did make the best choice.”

The captain’s explanation makes you realize how much Jihoon had thought the plan through, not merely giving you the task on a whim.

Hansol then unfolds the letter, scanning its contents before lighting it on a nearby lantern and watching the paper disintegrate into ash on the ground.

“Uh, Captain Choi?” You begin but he cuts you off.

“Seola.”

“Ah, right. Seola,” you retract your words and begin anew, “Is it okay to burn that?”

“I’ve read it and know what it says,” his shoulders shrug, “There’s no reason to leave evidence lying around. Thank you for delivering it.”

By the time you return to Shoji, the sun has already dipped below the horizon, dusk coolly falling onto the compound as the bite of winter sinks its teeth into you. Breath coming out in short puffs only to quell as you enter the main hall, you find the space empty. You’re surprised, hoping to see at least one of the captains loitering around, but none are present. So, you make your way to Jihoon’s quarters to report that you’d succeeded in handing the letter off to Hansol.

“Commander?” You ask, knocking on his door.

“Come in,” you hear after a moment and open the door, stepping into his room. His room still lay adorned with documents as he sits at his desk, the glow of the lantern in the corner of his room providing a shimmering light onto him. “Thank you for taking care of that,” Jihoon says as he looks up to you from his work, “How was Hansol?”

“He’s his usual self,” simply said as he nods his head.

“That’s good,” a sigh and you wonder what’s come over him. His mood seems more sour than when you left him earlier in the day.

“I’m sorry,” you say, unsure of how to go on with your conversation.

“What do you mean?” His brow furrows, “Did you lose the letter? Or did you not even make it to the inn?”

“Nothing like that—”

“Then why did you apologize?”

“I thought you’d be angry since I’d taken so long to get back…” You lead off, eyes breaking from his gaze and settling on the floor.

He sighs, as if relieved what you said wasn’t dire, “I’m not mad at you. It may surprise you that I have other things to worry about than just you.”

“Oh of course,” You say quickly, “I never meant to imply that— ”

Jihoon’s expression softens and he gives a short chuckle, shaking his head as he tries to contain himself. It does warm you a bit, knowing that he isn’t as worked up as you thought him to be.

“If you don’t mind me asking, why were you so upset earlier?”

“As you know,” he sighs, “there have been some issues in the Hwarang. Things are becoming more strained with the higher-ups as well.

“The higher-ups?”

“Ah, you’re practically one of us so I should tell you,” the happiness from seconds ago fades as his brow furrows, “Word is, Buyeo Pung is on the move again, this time backed by Goguryeo.” Does this mean that there would be a bigger battle than that of Baekgang or Ongsan? Jihoon’s lips purse and he shakes his head, “We’re not sure of their movements until they strike first. Then again, it’s not like worrying about it will do any of us good.” With each sentence, there’s another sigh, knowing the decisions made now will impact the whole of the Hwarang in the future.

“Is there anything else I can do to help?”

“Was running off to Noseo-dong not enough for you?” He questions with a piqued eyebrow.

“No… But if the Hwarang need help, I feel more than obliged to lend a hand.”

“You know what?” His eyes linger on his paperwork, “No matter how much you work, you’re different from Hansol, Chan, or Wonwoo. And you wouldn’t be able to do the dirty work that I give Junhui or Mingyu, either. Assigning duties to my men isn’t as easy as I’d like it to be.” Every one of his words feels like a knife to your gut, even if he has a point.

“I understand that I’m not a warrior like the rest of you,” you begin with a deep breath, “But I see how hard everyone is working and it makes me feel bad if I just sit around and don’t do anything.” Head bowing and your eyes looking to the floor, “Just let me help out in any way I can…”

Jihoon sits quietly for a moment before sighing out a “Damn…”, you hear him move to stand, his footsteps nearing you and his hand gently placed under your chin. His hand raises your face until your eyes are locked with his, the proximity of him so close to you sets your skin on fire. The commander’s eyes seem to pierce through you, the intensity churning your stomach.

“You say that you want to help,” he says as you nod your head, his hand still planted under your chin, “Why?” You can’t find the words immediately, and as you think, he speaks again, “Is it because you want to make a name for yourself? Or do you want us to recognize your efforts and reward you accordingly?”

“That’s not it,” confidence riddled in those three words as you speak.

“Then why put yourself through all of this?”

“For everything you all have done for me…” You frown, the pads of his fingertip’s abrasive on the underside of your chin. “There were times you all put your life on the line, people got hurt… The Hwarang have protected me time and time again. I just want to give back. I don’t want to regret anything anymore.”

 Jihoon’s hand falls away from you and he sighs, speaking with a low voice, “Then stop bowing so easily. You think you’re right. Why apologize if you believe yourself to be true?” Your eyes widen at his words, slowly realizing what he’s trying to convey. “If you believe in something then never yield to someone else. Hold your head up high and walk tall, you won’t win if you can’t even see the prize because you’re looking down at your feet.”

His words spark something in you, an understanding of his mindset and attitude towards life. So, you look at him, trying to match your gaze’s intensity with the blooming fires behind his eyes.

“I want to help. If there’s anything I can do, let me know.”

A small smile flickers onto Jihoon’s lips as he takes a step back from you, “If you want to help so much, how about you make some tea?”

“Alright,” you nod assertively, and the smile lingers on the commander’s face.

“The fate of the Hwarang rests on this tea, you know.”

“Leave it to me!” You say loudly, brushing past him and out of the room, racing as fast as you can towards the kitchen. Yet, before you leave, you can hear Jihoon mumble to himself,

“What’ll happen to us now…”

𝔇𝔢𝔠𝔢𝔪𝔟𝔢𝔯 11𝔱𝔥, 664 – 𝔎𝔦𝔪 𝔖𝔢𝔬𝔨𝔪𝔦𝔫’𝔰 ℜ𝔢𝔰𝔦𝔡𝔢𝔫𝔠𝔢, 𝔎𝔦𝔫𝔤𝔡𝔬𝔪 𝔬𝔣 𝔖𝔦𝔩𝔩𝔞 Baekje is trying to restore itself once more. News from Goguryeo solidifies King Munmu’s fears a few days into December, after a skirmish breaks out on the Silla-Goguryeo front. At first it was thought to be Goguryeo troops, but with Buyeo Pung leading the charge himself, it’s quickly realized that the kingdom is once again trying to establish itself.

More and more soldiers begin to flock to Seorabeol in anticipation of the oncoming onslaught, purges of Baekje loyalists once again resume and a tension lies in the air as if a cord is about to snap and set everything loose. With each passing day, news comes from the north of the collecting armies, as well as from the east, where former Baekje citizens have begun to rebel against the Silla leadership. As the Crown draws in its allies, seeking out aid from Tang once more, they call upon the Hwarang to aid in the upcoming battle.

The Hwarang reside at Kim Seokmin’s residence, Mingyu’s father’s home a little way outside of the city. While his father remains locked in the capital as plans are drawn, the residence is being used as a base of operations for the Hwarang, and not just those from Seorabeol.

“Everyone!” A voice shouts from the outer courtyard of the home, a wang-do bursting into the main room, sweat dotting their brow and his eyes looking frantic. “The Chief’s been shot!”

There were no witnesses, and the culprit escaped unnoticed. The motives unsure.

“What the hell?” Junhui frowns, “What asshole uses a bow in the city?” The captain leaves the residence shortly after collecting a group of men to survey the scene of where Youngmin had been attacked.

The arrow pierced the leader’s right shoulder, the head lodging into bone and shattering it. It requires more treatment than you can provide.

The sun had gone down when the door to the main room opened again, Seungcheol striding in the room, looking surprised to see you. “You’re still awake?”

“Colonel Choi…” You note, “If you need to use this room I’ll leave.”

“I don’t mind,” he shakes his head, “Rather, I think it’s best that you stay here.” His words are confusing, anxiousness rising in your stomach as you recall the last time you’d been alone with him.

Just as he finishes speaking, the captains of the Hwarang file into the room, somber expressions dotting their faces. Your anxiousness only continues to heighten.

“… Looks like everyone’s here,” Jihoon muses as the door is closed to allow you all a bit of privacy.

“Where’s Seungkwan?” Seungcheol asks, scanning the faces for the missing captain.

“He shouldn’t hear this,” Jihoon shakes his head, “If he learns about Kwak, he wouldn’t think twice about his safety and run off to find vengeance.”

“But if that’s what he wants, why wouldn’t you let him?” Seungcheol points out, “Again, being too kind, Jihoon.”

“What did you want from us?” Mingyu’s voice rises, directed towards the colonel. “We don’t know when the fighting’s going to start, for all of us to be here right now… Don’t tell me—”

“It’s exactly that.” Seungcheol nods. “I asked you to come with the intention of giving you something.” In his hands, you now see, is a bundle of cloth that he slowly unwraps before you all. What you see makes you take in a sharp breath of air.

“Pimul?” Hansol frowns, eyeing the vials of red liquid in the colonel’s hands.

“As captains of the Hwarang, we took on the risks of researching this,” a slow nod, “In doing so, it’s necessary for us to take responsibility for this experiment. Especially if any of you become injured and unable to fight. Or in the worst case, there’s a possibility that you may lose your own life.” Moving the vials to one hand, he picks up one in his other and examines it in the lantern light of the room, “I know for certain that this serum will be of use to you.”

“Colonel…” Junhui says slowly, “Are you trying to experiment on us too?”

“I know your hesitation,” Seungcheol snips, dropping the vial back into the pile with an audible clink, “But under our current circumstances, we cannot afford to lose any more of our captains.”

“Fuck that,” Junhui frowns, “I don’t want to depend on that shit to survive.” With that, he storms past the group of captains with heavy footfalls, swinging open the door before leaving.

“Maybe this would be something of a good luck charm…” Eunseok suggests, his eyes warily looking over the vials. “I hope it never comes to the point where we use the serum.” Seungcheol extends the pile to the captains.

“I don’t think I’ll use it,” Mingyu murmurs as both he and Hansol pick up a vial, “but I’ll keep it just in case…”

Until this moment, Jihoon had remained silent, listening to Seungcheol’s speech.

“Take responsibility, huh?” Eyes looking troubled, the commander reaches for a vial and pockets it, almost as if he doesn’t want to acknowledge its presence, “Maybe you’re onto something.”

“I believe that’s all I have to say for tonight.” Seungcheol nods as he folds the now empty cloth, “I hope this courtesy doesn’t go to waste.” After he finishes, the captains slowly file out, leaving you alone with Seungcheol once more.

“I’m sure you’re aware of this,” He sighs and looks to you, “But don’t let any word of this reach the other Hwarang, do I make myself clear?”

Nodding your head timidly, the colonel stays for another moment before leaving.

The serum that your father created now lies in the hands of the Hwarang captains. The serum that had entrenched them into the world of Demons and a life they should never have had to think about.

𝔇𝔢𝔠𝔢𝔪𝔟𝔢𝔯 16𝔱𝔥, 664 – 𝔎𝔦𝔪 𝔖𝔢𝔬𝔨𝔪𝔦𝔫’𝔰 ℜ𝔢𝔰𝔦𝔡𝔢𝔫𝔠𝔢, 𝔎𝔦𝔫𝔤𝔡𝔬𝔪 𝔬𝔣 𝔖𝔦𝔩𝔩𝔞 “We still haven’t figured out who shot the Chief?”

“I bet you anything it was some of those Guardian bastards!”

“No way, it was probably the Baekje loyalists—”

Ever since the attack on Kwak Youngmin, the atmosphere at Kim Seokmin’s residence had been wrought with speculation and tension. This tension ever more present as you step into the main room with a tray of tea for the captains.

“Thanks,” Mingyu says as you enter, “Can you just leave it here?”

A nod as you set down the tray, it seems as if you’d walked in on an important discussion.

“What’s the plan, then?” Junhui questions whomever he’d been speaking to. “Gaozong wants power in exchange for helping us, but they’re also hoping not to get as involved as they were at Baekgang. They know a war’s coming and they’re trying to extort Munmu for all he’s worth.”

“I’m not saying that you’re wrong,” Jihoon sighs out from the head of the table. “There’s nothing you or I could do about that though. We follow the Crown and not Gaozong.”

“In regard to sending our men to the front line…” Wonwoo speaks up, “Colonel Choi’s been pushing to implement the Furies.”

“I disagree with that,” Mingyu frowns, “This is war, not a massacre. There’s going to be both enemies and allies on the field, we won’t be able to control them. It’s not that they’re not powerful, it’s just too risky.”

“Agreed,” Junhui nods, crossing his arms as he leans back in his seat, “And inhumane too.”

“Then what do you suggest?” Hansol questions, looking at the captain. “If you’re so vehemently against it, you should offer an alternative.”

“We’re working on that.” Junhui grumbles, his voice raising, “If it were so easy do you think we’d be in this mess?”

“Commander,” Wonwoo looks at Jihoon, “What do you think?”

“… Let me think.” A deep exhale from Jihoon as he straightens himself in his seat, “We need to know the movements of Baekje before anything else, as well as prioritize what the Crown wants and, inadvertently, what Tang wants as well.” With the war inching closer and Youngmin’s injury, everyone in the Hwarang had been and is still on edge.

You leave the meeting sometime after then, never finding out what solution the men had come to. Later in the day, as the sun sinks over the horizon, you find yourself at Seungkwan’s door, anxious to check on his condition.

“Captain Boo?” You ask, gently opening the door and stepping inside, “How are you—huh?” Upon entering, you find that Soonyoung had come along to keep the captain company as well.

 “What are you doing up so late?” Soonyoung asks as he looks to you.

“What do you mean?”

“Well um… people may get the wrong idea if a girl visits a man’s room at night…” The young captain trails off, obviously flustered.

“You know that Seungkwan and I aren’t…”

Soonyoung laughs, “Yeah, yeah… That’s not really your kind of thing, is it?”

“What do you mean?”

“What do you mean ‘what do you mean?’?” Soonyoung snickers, “Come on…”

“Why are you here?” Seungkwan, not seeming to be in a playful mood, cuts into the conversation, “I assume you have a reason for visiting me?”

“Oh, yes, well… I came to check up on you.” Returning to the reason you’d come in the first place, you look to the captain, “Are you feeling okay? Is there anything I can get you?”

“Of course not,” his expression bitter, “Look at what’s going on.” After a moment of silence, he speaks to you, “Is that all? You can go now.” His aggression taking you by surprise, you falter for another moment before coming to your senses to bring up what had been bothering you.

“Do you all know?” Another pause, “That Colonel Choi wants to… use the Furies.”

“Of course…” The grin that was adorning Soonyoung’s face drops.

“If you were him,” Seungkwan sighs, “Wouldn’t you want to do the same? They need numbers or they’ll never make a name for themselves. I mean, it’s a given once they can’t function anymore, they’ll need to be cut off.”

“Cut off…”

“We’re not all good-doers,” the captain shakes his head, “we can’t go around giving food to everyone we see who needs it. I mean, yeah, you mooched off of us for years, but that was entirely your good luck. Don’t forget that.”

“I guess you have a point…”

“Seungkwan you’re being a bit of a jackass,” Soonyoung frowns at the other captain. “It was our fault she was brought to the Hwarang.”

Seungkwan sneers at the statement, clearly unmoved, he continues his grievances. “And what the hell is Jihoon doing? He should be kicking himself in the ass for not apprehending the men that hurt Kwak.” A frustrated sigh, “If I weren’t—If I weren’t like this, I’d go out and do it myself.”

His bedrest is clearly getting to him. He’d known Youngmin, long before either of them had joined the Hwarang.

“What do you think, Soonyoung?” A glance towards the other as you ask.

“Me? I, uhm, well…” He hums, “I did drink the serum but… I was worried about what would happen to me. Seungcheol wants more men in the Fury Corps, and says we’ll never win otherwise. But I don’t like the idea of forcing the Hwarang to join us, even if they’ve broken our code.” The demeanor he has is unlike the one you remember from when you’d first met him, it’s cold and stern. Recalling how he used to be, sadness overcomes you.

“No matter what Seungcheol says, it’s Jihoon that makes the call.” Seungkwan says, crossing his arms.

“You’re right.” Soonyoung says, a frown pulling at him, “But the Corps already exists, it’s not like we can pretend it doesn’t.”

“Then maybe we should use them, then.” Seungkwan mumbles, “They can hold a sword, at least.”

The power of the Furies is something that would ultimately be beneficial to the Hwarang, should they need to utilize their power for the war effort. Yet, once the war was over… You struggle to think of what would be done with them after. Fearing the answer, you don’t press the matter further.

𝔇𝔢𝔠𝔢𝔪𝔟𝔢𝔯 17𝔱𝔥, 664 – 𝔎𝔦𝔪 𝔖𝔢𝔬𝔨𝔪𝔦𝔫’𝔰 ℜ𝔢𝔰𝔦𝔡𝔢𝔫𝔠𝔢, 𝔎𝔦𝔫𝔤𝔡𝔬𝔪 𝔬𝔣 𝔖𝔦𝔩𝔩𝔞 It should be no surprise to you by now that an unexpected visitor, be it friend or foe, should stop in on you at any time now. Such an occasion occurs, with a friend, this very morning.

“It’s been too long,” Sooyoung’s voice calls out to you as you walk outside the front gate of the Kim residence, one of the captains had alerted you to her and Seulgi’s presence and you came as quickly as you could.

“What brings you here?” You ask, an inquisitive tilt of your head.

“We have business with your leader, could you go and get him for us?” Seulgi responds, glancing towards the interior doors of the home.

“Oh… the Chief isn’t really in good condition to meet with people, I could go and get the Commander—”

“That’ll do fine as well,” Sooyoung nods with a smile before you’re off to summon Jihoon.

After you’d let the two women inside, as well as summon the commander, the four of you stand in the main hall. Jihoon looks over the two warily before crossing his arms, “This is unexpected, to say the least. What do you want?”

“I apologize for intruding again, but it’s important that I speak to you.” Sooyoung begins, her expression turning stony as she speaks to the commander, “I’ve come to discuss your… Furies.”

You’d been about to excuse yourself to make tea for the group, but upon hearing Sooyoung’s statement, you freeze in place. Jihoon seems to tense as well, a downward curvature of his lips etching into his face. “I won’t waste your time or mine—how long do you intend to keep them in your service?”

“What do you mean?” Crossed arms, stern gaze, the signs that Jihoon is on the defensive yet again.

“You’ve kept them imprisoned here long enough; I think you know what I’m saying.” Her words turn bitter midway through her statement, “Even the Crown has admitted to this failed experiment. They are too much for the Hwarang to handle. With Jisoo on your trail, it would be best for you to wash your hands of them.”

“Is it up to you to decide if they’re a failure or not?” Jihoon questions, letting out a sigh, “We’ve done our research, I’m not sure you have the authority to judge us.”

“Then are you aware that the Hwarang’s Furies have been murdering people on the streets to test their strength?” Seulgi asks, her gaze narrowing at Jihoon.

His eyes go wide, muttering a “What?” before looking at her. For a split second, his veneer of put togetherness fades and confusion and worry situates itself on his brow. And then it’s gone, his composure returning and frown reappearing.

“Where did you hear that?”

“There’s no reason for me to tell you…” Seulgi states, “My sources are reliable, and that’s all you need to know. Your job is to protect Seorabeol, is it not? And yet you let your men who’ve succumbed to madness wander its streets and kill its civilians. It disgusts me, Commander.” Her eyes bore into Jihoon’s, “Before all of Silla knows of your failure, I strongly suggest you disband your Fury Corps.”

Her logic is sound, no matter how scathing she is towards the Furies. The room falls silent, you can almost hear Jihoon’s thoughts racing in his head.

Sooyoung stops him, however, speaking up, “We can quiet this conversation for a moment, there’s something else I would like to address.” With that, she looks to you, “Will you still not leave with us?” The question simple, her eyes wide, “I know we spoke of this before, but with the current climate… I fear your safety here is jeopardized more and more with each passing day.”

 You know that war is coming, everyone in the room does. Yet to hear Sooyoung insinuate it adds even more weight to it all.

“Are you suggesting that we can’t handle it?” Jihoon says, anger tinged by his words.

“The truth is hard to accept sometimes,” Sooyoung turns to him, “If Hong Jisoo shows up, can you protect her? If he comes while you’re amid battle to take her away, can you protect her then?” She’s angry, her tone rising as the commander stays quiet, “She’s a Demon, not a human. She should be with her kind; we can protect her.” Looking back to you, she pleads, “If you’re with us then their entire effort can go towards the war and battles to come.”

Each word is a blow to your chest, guilt wrought upon you for even thinking that your presence among the Hwarang wasn’t detrimental to them. Meeting with Jihoon’s gaze says nothing, he averts his eyes as you’re left to make a decision.

You’re sure Sooyoung is right, yet you can’t find the words to say that.

“What do you say?” Sooyoung asks, her voice returning to a normal, soft level. You know she wants what’s best for you, even if her means aren’t the kindest towards those you’ve begun to hold dear to you.

Jihoon, however, sees right through you.

“You don’t want to leave, do you?” The question is simple as it leaves him, and he knows your answer before you even say it. “Then don’t, stay. There isn’t much else to think about if your mind’s already set.”

“Is that really okay?” The implication behind you staying is far more dangerous than that of you leaving. Is Jihoon saying that he wants you to stay?

“I’m not going to repeat myself.” He shakes his head, “What proof do we have that they can keep your secret any better than we can? If that bastard’s after you too—Well, if we’ve got the same enemy, wouldn’t it make sense to stick together?”

“So… I can stay?”

“What kind of question is that?” Voice gruff as he huffs out, “If you were as much of a pain in the ass as you think yourself to be, I would’ve kicked you out years ago.”

A smile, small and timid, curling your lips, “Thank you, Commander.”

The four of you disperse moments later, you leading Sooyoung and Seulgi to the front gate of the home before the first woman stops you just as you reach the gate.

“So,” she says with an apologetic tone, “You’ve turned me down again, haven’t you?”

“I appreciate your offer,” a nod of your head, “but my place is here.”

“It’s alright,” another apologetic smile, “If you’re so determined to stay then there’s no way I would’ve gotten you to leave with me… And… When you told me that you were staying because you were, ah, interested in someone, did you mean the Commander?”

You’re not sure how to answer that question.

“To be honest,” you begin, the toe of your shoe scraping atop the dirt of the ground, breath coming out in puffs of white air, “I don’t know him all too well, but…” The words stutter out of you, not sure how to explain yourself or because you, too, cannot comprehend your feelings towards the Hwarang. “The men here call him the Demon Commander because of his harshness and strict nature, a lot of people think he’s cold because of that… But I think it’s his way of showing kindness, there’s warmth there that isn’t seen too often yet…” You don’t realize that you’re rambling as you continue, “He’s responsible for most of the Hwarang, it’s not like he has a choice whether he can act like that or not, either. I’m not sure what I can do for him, but I’d like to stay and do whatever I can.”

“He really has you wrapped around his finger,” Sooyoung hums to herself, “Not that I think he sees that, though…” After giving her a confused look, she continues, “They say my ancestor fell in love with a human and followed him to the capital. I'm their granddaughter so I suppose I can understand where you’re coming from… Rank and circumstance, whether human or Demon, mean little before the eyes of love.”

Wait. Wait… “What?” You squeak out, “Love?! I never—Sooyoung, I never said I love him.”

Her hand only finds your shoulder as she sighs and continues, “A human and a Demon, there’s something romantic about that, I think… Don’t think it’s destined to fail, either.”

“Sooyoung…” Seulgi calls out, probably to save you from dying of embarrassment, “We should get going.”

“Ah,” her hand lifted from your shoulder, “You’re right.” The Demon looks to you, “Take care of yourself, please. Don’t underestimate Hong Jisoo, he’s more powerful than I’d like to imagine.” A slow nod as she sighs, “If you need to contact me, please send a letter to Seulgi.”

“Thank you, Sooyoung.” And with that, the pair are gone through the front gate. Your mind, however, lingers on Sooyoung’s words. Rank and circumstance mean little before the eyes of love… But was your desire to be close to Jihoon that? You want to be around him, to help him… The most important thing for him is the Hwarang, he’d invested his life into this organization, and put everything he is into it. With war on the horizon, he doesn’t have the time to think of anything else.

As dusk descends on the compound, you find that the men of the Hwarang are ravenous. You would expect nothing less from men who spend their days training and patrolling and spend their nights doing the same as well. Any food given is gone as soon as it reaches their plate and you offer any that you have, finding yourself forgoing dinner tonight in favor of a younger member of the Hwarang getting a meal.

With pangs of hunger rattling through you, you decide to stave it off by going to the kitchens to either drink some water or make yourself some tea. Your hands gently clenching at your stomach as you walk, you almost don’t hear the voice behind you.

“Was that your stomach?” Turning, you see the Hwarang’s Commander stopped to look at you, “I know the wang-do ate all of the food, did they not leave you any?”

“I’ll eat later,” you nod, fingers still at your sides as you try to stop another growl from escaping your gut. “I’m alright.”

“I didn’t ask if you were alright,” arms folded across his chest, “I asked if you’ve eaten.”

“Well, um,” a shake of your head, “no, not yet.”

“Really,” he huffs, almost incredulously, as he reaches for the bag slung around his shoulder. He rummages around inside of it for a moment before grabbing something and tossing it to you. Unwrapping it from the cloth, you find that it’s one of  the balls of rice that you’d made for the captains.

“Commander, this is yours—”

“Just eat it,” he grits his teeth and the two of your gazes settle on the disputed food. After a moment of silence, he sighs and moves to break it in half, “Don’t tell me you’re rejecting my kindness… If we halve it will it make you feel better?” Taking his half in his free hand, he offers the other chunk out to you.

You grab your half, “… Thank you.”

The two of you eat in silence, before Jihoon speaks again, “Stop worrying so much about the other men and eat what you deserve. Okay?”

“I’ll be sure to do that next time…” you nod as your hand drops to your side after finishing the food.

“I wasn’t trying to lecture you,” Jihoon’s voice goes soft before muttering, “… thanks.”

“Don’t worry about it, I’ll let the men eat what they want and get my own food another time,” you shake your head, “They need it more than me—”

“I wasn’t talking about that,” he coughs to clear his throat, “I meant to say thanks for staying. You decided to stay with us.”

Was the commander happy that you decided not to go with Sooyoung?

“What’s with the funny face?” The commander asks and you feel a swell of emotion come over you. “Was that not enough food?”

“No, no,” you shake your head, “It was fine.”

Jihoon nods as he tucks the cloth back into his bag and looks towards the entrance of the home, “I’m going to leave you in charge for now before I go out on my rounds. Take care of this place, okay?” There’s a small smile on his lips as he asks you.

“Of course,” you say, returning the smile. And with that, the commander turns on his heels and strides out of the front entrance to the home, heading off to his duties in Seorabeol.

---

‘ SHIPPED ’ | joshua hong

synopsis : the one where the students of pledis uni are wondering if their two favorite professors are actually dating <3

genre/s : one-shot smau, university au, professors au, pure fluff, gn!reader

from reese, with love <3 face the sun pioneer photos ??? going crazy going feral i- this era is going to break me i can feel it,,, anyways- my brainrot is stronger than ever so i offer u this ,,, thank you for reading, as always id love to know what u think !! going back into academic hell now 🥲 take care, everyone:)

operation: laundry love | joshua hong

Author: bratzkoo Pairing: software developer! joshua x reader Genre: fluff, love at first sight Rating: PG-15 Word count: 9.1k~ Warnings/note: requested by a lovely anon!

summary: Joshua Hong falls in love at first sight with you at a laundromat and schemes his way into making you like him back.

taglist (hit me up if you wanna be added): @escoupseu , @yanabaaaaaaarysheva , @spnyin , @sousydive , @gyuguys , @gyubakeries

requests are open, but you can just say hi! | masterlist

Joshua Hong had always considered himself a practical man. At twenty-eight, he had a stable job as a software developer, a tidy apartment, and a cat named Algorithm. His life was as orderly as the code he wrote, each day neatly compartmentalized into routines and habits. Laundry day was no exception—every other Saturday, 2 PM sharp, he'd trudge down to Suds & Bubbles, the local laundromat, with his precisely sorted clothes.

But on this particular Saturday, as Joshua pushed open the glass door of Suds & Bubbles, his well-ordered world tilted on its axis.

The laundromat was busier than usual, probably due to the unseasonably warm weather that had everyone in town suddenly remembering their summer clothes. The air hummed with the whir of washing machines and the occasional beep of a dryer reaching the end of its cycle. The scent of detergent and fabric softener hung thick in the air, mingling with the faint mustiness of old magazines stacked on a nearby table.

Joshua's eyes swept the room, looking for an empty machine. That's when he saw her.

She was standing in front of a washing machine, her brow furrowed in concentration as she examined a shirt with the intensity of a scientist studying a rare specimen. Her hair was piled haphazardly atop her head in what might generously be called a bun, secured with what appeared to be a pencil. She wore oversized sweatpants and a faded t-shirt that proclaimed "I'm not arguing, I'm just explaining why I'm right." 

To Joshua, she was the most beautiful thing he'd ever seen.

As if sensing his gaze, she looked up, meeting his eyes. For a moment, Joshua forgot how to breathe. Her eyes were warm, like flecked with gold, and crinkled slightly at the corners as if she was perpetually on the verge of laughter.

"Excuse me," she said, her voice snapping Joshua back to reality. "You wouldn't happen to know how to get spaghetti sauce out of a white shirt, would you? I've been staring at this stain for so long, I'm starting to see pasta shapes."

Joshua blinked, his brain scrambling to form a coherent sentence. "I, uh... have you tried pre-treating it?" he managed to stammer out, mentally kicking himself for such a mundane response.

She sighed dramatically, holding up the shirt. "I've pre-treated it, post-treated it, and given it a stern talking-to. Nothing seems to work. I'm beginning to think this shirt has a vendetta against Italian cuisine."

A chuckle escaped Joshua before he could stop it. Her deadpan delivery and the absurdity of the situation broke through his initial panic, and he found himself relaxing slightly.

"Maybe it's more of a Chinese food fan," he offered, surprised by his own attempt at humor.

Her eyes lit up, and she let out a laugh that seemed to bubble up from her toes. "Oh my god, you're right! I should have been feeding it lo mein this whole time. How could I be so culturally insensitive to my own clothing?"

Joshua felt a warmth spread through his chest. He'd made her laugh. He, Joshua Hong, notorious for his dry technical explanations and inability to remember punchlines, had made this gorgeous, funny woman laugh.

"I'm Y/N, by the way," she said, extending her hand. "Y/N L/N, destroyer of shirts and apparent oppressor of Italian-American textiles."

"Joshua," he replied, taking her hand. Her skin was soft, and he had to resist the urge to hold on longer than socially acceptable. "Joshua Hong, software developer and... uh, laundry doer."

Y/N raised an eyebrow, her lips quirking into a smirk. "Laundry doer? Is that the technical term?"

Joshua felt heat creep up his neck. "Well, I... I mean, I'm not a professional or anything. Just a guy who, you know, does laundry. Sometimes. Well, every two weeks, actually. It's kind of a schedule thing, and—" He cut himself off, realizing he was rambling. "Sorry, I'm not usually this..." He gestured vaguely, unable to find the right word.

"Articulate?" Y/N supplied helpfully, her eyes twinkling with amusement.

"That's one way to put it," Joshua said, managing a self-deprecating smile.

Y/N's gaze softened. "Hey, no worries. We all have our off days. Although," she added, glancing around the laundromat, "I'm not sure anyone's really on their A-game in a place like this. I mean, look at that guy over there."

Joshua followed her gaze to see a middle-aged man trying to stuff what looked like an entire month’s worth of clothes into a single washing machine.

"I think he's trying to create a black hole of socks and underwear," Y/N stage-whispered. "Should we alert NASA?"

Joshua snorted, then quickly tried to cover it with a cough. He wasn't used to finding things genuinely funny, especially not in a laundromat of all places. But something about Y/N's observations and the way she delivered them with such casual humor was infectious.

"Maybe he's conducting an experiment on the compression capabilities of cotton blend fabrics," Joshua found himself saying.

Y/N's eyes widened in mock seriousness. "Of course! How could we have missed it? Clearly, we're witnessing groundbreaking laundry science in action."

They both burst into laughter, drawing curious glances from other patrons. Joshua felt a mix of exhilaration and embarrassment. He wasn't used to being the center of attention, but with Y/N, it somehow felt... right.

"So, Joshua the Laundry Doer," Y/N said once their laughter had subsided, "since you're clearly an expert in all things wash and fold, any other tips for a hapless stain-battler like myself?"

Joshua's mind raced. This was his chance to impress her, to show off his knowledge. But as he opened his mouth to launch into a detailed explanation of stain-removal techniques, he caught sight of the playful glint in her eye. She wasn't really looking for a lecture on laundry. She was teasing him, keeping the banter going.

For a moment, panic threatened to overwhelm him. He wasn't good at this kind of thing. Flirting, joking around—it wasn't in his usual repertoire. But something about Y/N made him want to try.

"Well," he said, affecting a serious tone, "as a certified laundry professional—"

"Oh, you're certified now?" Y/N interjected, raising an eyebrow.

"Absolutely. I have a degree in Sock Pairing from the prestigious University of Wash and Tumble Dry."

Y/N gasped dramatically. "I've heard of that place! Isn't their mascot the Fighting Lint Roller?"

Joshua felt a grin spreading across his face. He was doing it. He was actually engaging in witty banter. With a beautiful woman. In a laundromat. If his friends could see him now, they'd never believe it.

"That's the one," he confirmed. "Our battle cry is 'We'll press your buttons!'"

Y/N doubled over laughing, clutching her sides. "Oh my god, stop," she wheezed. "I can't breathe!"

Joshua felt a surge of pride. He'd done that. He'd made her laugh so hard she could barely breathe. It was a heady feeling, one he wanted to experience again and again.

As Y/N's laughter subsided, she wiped a tear from her eye. "Oh, man. I haven't laughed like that in ages. You, Joshua Hong, are dangerously funny. They should put a warning label on you."

Joshua felt his cheeks heat up at the compliment. "I, uh, thanks. You're pretty funny yourself."

Y/N waved a hand dismissively. "Nah, I just state the obvious. The world's a pretty ridiculous place if you pay attention." She glanced down at the shirt in her hand, then back at Joshua. "Speaking of ridiculous, I should probably actually try to wash this thing before it becomes sentient and decides to take over my wardrobe."

"Right, of course," Joshua said, suddenly remembering why they were both there in the first place. He glanced around, spotting an empty washing machine a few feet away. "There's a free machine over there if you need one."

Y/N followed his gaze and grinned. "My hero! Saving me from the horrors of waiting for a free washer. Truly, your laundry powers know no bounds."

As they walked over to the empty machine, Joshua felt a mix of emotions swirling in his chest. He was elated at having met Y/N, at the easy way they'd fallen into conversation. But there was also a twinge of sadness. Once she started her laundry, she'd probably go sit down, maybe read a book or play on her phone like most people did. Their interaction would be over, just a brief, bright moment in an otherwise ordinary day.

Y/N opened the washing machine and started loading her clothes, chattering away as she did so. "You know, I've always wondered why they make these things so deep. Are they expecting us to wash a family of four's entire wardrobe in one go? Or maybe it's for people who only do laundry once a year and need to fit everything they own in here."

Joshua chuckled, leaning against the adjacent machine. "Maybe it's in case you need to hide from the Laundry Police."

Y/N paused in her loading, a pair of jeans dangling from her hand as she turned to look at him. "The Laundry Police?"

"Oh, you know," Joshua said, warming to his theme, "they patrol laundromats, making sure no one's mixing their colors and whites. Very strict about fabric softener usage too."

A slow grin spread across Y/N's face. "Let me guess, their motto is 'To protect and pre-treat'?"

"Exactly!" Joshua exclaimed, perhaps a bit too enthusiastically. He quickly tried to rein in his excitement, reminding himself that he was supposed to be playing it cool. "I mean, uh, yeah. Something like that."

Y/N's expression softened, and she tilted her head slightly as she looked at him. For a moment, Joshua thought he saw something in her eyes—a flicker of interest, maybe? But before he could analyze it further, she turned back to her laundry.

"Well, in that case, I'd better be extra careful," she said, her tone light. "I'd hate to get arrested for improper sock sorting."

As Y/N finished loading her clothes and closed the washing machine door, Joshua realized with a start that he hadn't even begun to do his own laundry. He'd been so caught up in talking to Y/N that he'd completely forgotten why he was there in the first place.

"Oh, shoot," he muttered, glancing around for another empty machine.

"Everything okay?" Y/N asked, pausing with her hand on the detergent dispenser.

"Yeah, just... I kind of forgot to actually start my own laundry," Joshua admitted, feeling his cheeks heat up again.

Y/N's eyes crinkled with amusement. "The laundry expert forgot to do his laundry? Oh, how the mighty have fallen."

Joshua ran a hand through his hair, chuckling despite his embarrassment. "I guess I got a little distracted."

Something flickered in Y/N's eyes at that, but it was gone so quickly Joshua wasn't sure if he'd imagined it. She glanced around the laundromat, then pointed to a machine in the corner. "There's one over there if you want to get started. Unless..." She hesitated for a moment, then continued, "Unless you want to share? I've got plenty of room in here, and it'll save you some quarters."

Joshua's heart leapt at the suggestion. Sharing a machine meant they'd have a reason to stay together, to keep talking. But he didn't want to seem too eager.

"Are you sure?" he asked, trying to keep his voice casual. "I wouldn't want to impose."

Y/N rolled her eyes good-naturedly. "Please, it's a washing machine, not a kidney. Besides," she added with a wink, "I could use someone to protect me if the Laundry Police show up."

And just like that, Joshua's resolve to play it cool crumbled. He grinned, already reaching for his laundry bag. "Well, when you put it like that, how can I refuse?"

As they loaded their clothes into the machine together, their hands occasionally brushing, Joshua felt a warmth that had nothing to do with the humid laundromat air. He snuck glances at Y/N, taking in the way she hummed softly to herself as she worked, the little furrow that appeared between her brows when she concentrated on measuring the detergent.

Y/N caught him looking and raised an eyebrow. "What? Do I have detergent on my face or something?"

"No, no," Joshua said quickly. "I was just... thinking."

"Dangerous pastime," Y/N quipped.

"I know," Joshua replied automatically, then blinked in surprise. "Wait, did you just quote 'Beauty and the Beast'?"

Y/N's face lit up. "You caught that? Most people miss it!"

"Are you kidding? It's only one of the best Disney movies ever made," Joshua said, his usual reserve forgotten in his enthusiasm.

"Agreed!" Y/N exclaimed. "Talking furniture, a library to die for, and a heroine who's more interested in books than boys? Sign me up!"

As they finished loading the machine and Y/N started the cycle, Joshua felt a sense of contentment wash over him. Here he was, doing something as mundane as laundry, and yet he couldn't remember the last time he'd enjoyed himself this much.

Y/N turned to him, a mischievous glint in her eye. "So, Laundry Master, what do you usually do while waiting for your clothes to wash? Let me guess, you have a special meditation technique for achieving perfect fabric softness?"

Joshua laughed, shaking his head. "Nothing so exciting, I'm afraid. Usually, I just sit and work on my laptop or read a book."

"Ah, a man of simple pleasures," Y/N nodded sagely. "Well, how about we shake things up a bit? I've got a deck of cards in my bag. Fancy a game? I warn you though, I'm undefeated in Go Fish."

"Go Fish? Really?" Joshua asked, amused.

Y/N shrugged, a smile playing at the corners of her mouth. "What can I say? I'm a woman of sophisticated tastes."

As Y/N rummaged in her bag for the cards, Joshua marveled at the turn his day had taken. He'd come here expecting nothing more than clean clothes and maybe a chance to catch up on some work. Instead, he'd met Y/N—funny, beautiful, ridiculous Y/N—and now he was about to play Go Fish in a laundromat like it was the most natural thing in the world.

Y/N triumphantly produced a battered deck of cards from her bag. "Aha! Prepare to be thoroughly trounced, Joshua Hong. Your laundry expertise won't save you now!"

As they settled into a game, the rhythmic tumble of the washing machine providing a soothing backdrop, Joshua couldn't help but think that maybe, just maybe, his orderly life could use a little chaos. And if that chaos came in the form of a beautiful woman with a penchant for terrible puns and children's card games, well... he was more than okay with that.

It was, he decided, the best laundry day ever.

-

Joshua Hong had never considered himself a schemer. In fact, he prided himself on his straightforward nature. But as he sat in his apartment the day after his fateful meeting with Y/N, he found himself plotting like a character in one of those romantic comedies his sister was always trying to get him to watch.

"Okay, Algorithm," he said to his cat, who was perched on the arm of the couch, watching him with typical feline indifference. "We need a plan."

Algorithm yawned in response.

"Thanks for the enthusiasm," Joshua muttered. He pulled out a notebook and began to scribble furiously. "Step one: Figure out Y/N's laundry schedule."

He tapped his pen against his chin, thinking. "She mentioned she usually does laundry on Saturdays, but not every week. So maybe... every other week? Or possibly every third week?"

Algorithm meowed and jumped off the couch, apparently bored with Joshua's romantic strategizing.

"You're right," Joshua sighed. "I'm overthinking this. I'll just have to stake out the laundromat every Saturday for a while. That's totally normal and not creepy at all, right?"

Silence greeted his question.

"Right," he answered himself. "Perfectly normal."

And so began Operation Laundry Love, as Joshua had dubbed it in his head (though he'd die before admitting that to anyone else).

The next Saturday, Joshua found himself at Suds & Bubbles, a bag of laundry in hand despite having done his washing just the week before. He'd had to dig into his "emergency clothes" drawer to have enough to justify a trip.

As he pushed open the door, his heart sank. No Y/N. The laundromat was occupied by the usual Saturday crowd: a harried-looking mother with three small children, an elderly man reading a newspaper, and a college student who appeared to be using the dryer as a makeshift desk for her laptop.

Joshua sighed and resigned himself to actually doing his unnecessary laundry. As he loaded his clothes into the machine, he couldn't help but smile, remembering how he and Y/N had shared a washer the week before.

"You look happy for someone doing laundry," a voice behind him said.

Joshua whirled around, his heart leaping into his throat. But it wasn't Y/N. Instead, he found himself face-to-face with the elderly man, who had set aside his newspaper and was now regarding Joshua with amusement.

"Oh, uh, I just... really like clean clothes?" Joshua offered weakly.

The old man chuckled. "Son, I've been coming to this laundromat for thirty years, and I've never seen anyone smile like that over a washing machine. Unless..." His eyes twinkled mischievously. "You wouldn't happen to be waiting for someone, would you?"

Joshua felt heat creep up his neck. "What? No, I'm just... doing laundry. Like normal. Because it's a normal thing to do. Normally."

"Mm-hmm," the old man nodded, clearly unconvinced. "Well, I hope your 'normal laundry' shows up soon."

As the man shuffled back to his seat, Joshua groaned internally. Was he really that transparent?

The answer, as it turned out over the next few weeks, was a resounding yes.

Every Saturday, Joshua found himself at Suds & Bubbles, armed with increasingly creative excuses for why he suddenly needed to do laundry so frequently.

"I spilled an entire pot of spaghetti sauce on myself," he told the amused attendant one week.

"My cat decided my closet was his new litter box," he explained to the harried mother the next.

By the fourth Saturday, he'd run out of plausible excuses and was seriously considering actually spilling something on all his clothes just to justify his presence.

It was on this fourth Saturday, as Joshua was contemplating the merits of "accidentally" upending a bottle of ketchup on himself, that the bell above the door chimed. He looked up, more out of habit than hope at this point, and nearly dropped the detergent he was holding.

There, silhouetted in the doorway like some laundry-bearing angel, was Y/N.

She was wearing faded jeans and a t-shirt that proclaimed "I'm not procrastinating, I'm doing side quests," her hair once again in its chaotic bun. To Joshua, she had never looked more beautiful.

Y/N spotted him almost immediately, her face breaking into a grin. "Well, well, well," she said, sauntering over. "If it isn't the Laundry Master himself. We've got to stop meeting like this, people will talk."

Joshua, who had been mentally rehearsing casual greetings for weeks, found himself suddenly tongue-tied. "I, uh... hi," he managed.

Y/N raised an eyebrow. "Wow, they really should put a warning label on you. 'Caution: Excessive wit may cause spontaneous combustion.'"

That broke through Joshua's panic, and he felt a grin tugging at his lips. "Sorry, I left my witty retorts in my other pants. I'm here to wash them."

Y/N laughed, the sound cutting through the monotonous hum of the washing machines. "There he is! I was worried the Laundry Police had gotten to you and stolen your sense of humor."

"Nah, they just put it through the spin cycle. It's a little dizzy, but intact."

"Oh, good," Y/N nodded seriously. "A dizzy sense of humor is a small price to pay for clean clothes and freedom from laundry-based tyranny."

As they bantered, Joshua felt the tension leaving his shoulders. This was why he'd been coming back week after week, enduring knowing looks from the regulars and inventing increasingly ridiculous laundry emergencies. Not just because Y/N was beautiful (though she absolutely was), but because talking to her felt as natural as breathing.

"So," Y/N said as she started loading her laundry into a machine, "do you always do your laundry on Saturdays, or am I just lucky enough to catch you during your weekly sock-sorting séance?"

Joshua froze for a split second. This was it, the moment of truth. He could confess that he'd been coming here every week in the hopes of seeing her again. Or...

"Oh, you know," he said, aiming for casual and probably overshooting into 'trying way too hard to sound casual', "laundry emergencies wait for no man. Or woman. Or... person of any gender, really."

Y/N's eyes narrowed slightly, a smile playing at the corners of her mouth. "Laundry emergencies, huh? Sounds serious. What was it this time? Rogue red sock in with the whites? Denim uprising?"

"Actually," Joshua said, warming to his theme, "it was a catastrophic coffee spill. My entire wardrobe now smells like a coffee shop."

Y/N nodded solemnly. "Ah, yes. The dreaded Cappucino Fiasco. I've seen it claim many a good outfit. You were wise to seek help immediately."

As they continued to load their respective machines, Joshua marveled at how easy it was to fall into rhythm with Y/N. They moved around each other seamlessly, passing detergent and fabric softener back and forth without a word, as if they'd been doing this dance for years instead of having met only a few weeks ago.

"So," Y/N said as she closed the door of her washing machine with a flourish, "what's your strategy for killing time while the laundry gods work their magic? Please tell me it's more exciting than last time. If you pull out a deck of cards again, I might have to report you to the Fun Police."

Joshua grinned. "I'll have you know that Go Fish is a game of intense strategy and skill."

"Uh-huh," Y/N nodded, clearly unconvinced. "And I'm the Queen of Sheba."

"Your Majesty," Joshua said with an exaggerated bow.

Y/N laughed, then grabbed his arm and started pulling him towards the door. "Come on, Laundry Boy. There's a coffee shop next door that does a mean latte. I think we can risk leaving our clothes unattended for a few minutes. Unless you're worried the Sock Gnomes will strike?"

Joshua allowed himself to be led, his arm tingling where Y/N was touching it. "Sock Gnomes are no laughing matter," he said seriously. "They're a menace to matched pairs everywhere."

The coffee shop, as it turned out, was a tiny hole-in-the-wall place that looked like it had been decorated by someone's eccentric grandmother. Mismatched chairs surrounded wobbly tables, and the walls were covered in a truly bewildering array of artwork, ranging from serene landscapes to what appeared to be a portrait of a cat dressed as Napoleon.

"Wow," Joshua said as they entered, the scent of coffee and freshly baked pastries enveloping them. "This place is..."

"A glorious affront to interior design?" Y/N supplied helpfully.

"I was going to say 'unique', but yeah, that works too."

They ordered their drinks - a simple black coffee for Joshua and something that sounded more like a dessert than a beverage for Y/N - and settled at a table in the corner. The chair Joshua sat in promptly made an ominous creaking sound.

"Don't worry," Y/N said, noticing his concerned look. "If it collapses, I promise to laugh only a little before calling for help."

"Your kindness knows no bounds," Joshua deadpanned.

As they sipped their drinks, the conversation flowed as easily as it had in the laundromat. They discovered a shared love of terrible puns, a mutual disdain for people who talk in movie theaters, and a surprising amount of overlap in their taste in music.

"No way," Y/N said, her eyes wide. "You like The Microphones too? I thought I was the only person under 40 who'd heard of them!"

Joshua nodded enthusiastically. "They're amazing! 'The Glow Pt. 2' is one of my all-time favorite albums."

"Okay, that settles it," Y/N declared. "We're officially friends now. I don't make the rules."

Joshua felt a warmth in his chest that had nothing to do with the coffee. "Friends, huh? Do I get a membership card or something?"

"Better," Y/N grinned. She reached into her pocket and pulled out a slightly squashed packet of gum. With great ceremony, she extracted a piece and presented it to Joshua. "I hereby bestow upon you the Gum of Friendship. Guard it well."

Joshua accepted the gum with equal solemnity. "I shall treasure it always," he vowed, then promptly unwrapped it and popped it in his mouth.

Y/N gasped in mock horror. "The sacred Gum of Friendship! You've destroyed it!"

"I'm savoring our friendship," Joshua countered. "It's minty fresh."

They dissolved into laughter, earning curious looks from the other patrons. Joshua couldn't remember the last time he'd laughed this much. Being with Y/N was like being caught in the best kind of whirlwind - exhilarating, unpredictable, and utterly delightful.

As their laughter subsided, Y/N glanced at her watch and yelped. "Oh shoot, our laundry! We've been here for almost an hour!"

They hurried back to the laundromat, half-expecting to find their clothes strewn across the floor or absconded with by the mythical Sock Gnomes. But everything was just as they'd left it, their machines humming away peacefully.

"Crisis averted," Y/N sighed dramatically. "Though I have to say, part of me was looking forward to staging a daring rescue mission for our captured clothes."

Joshua grinned. "Maybe next time. I'll bring my laundry-themed superhero costume."

"Oh? And what would that look like?" Y/N asked, her eyes twinkling with amusement.

"Well, obviously a cape made of dryer sheets," Joshua began, warming to the ridiculous idea. "A utility belt stocked with stain removers for every occasion. Oh, and a mask that looks like one of those mesh laundry bags."

Y/N nodded approvingly. "Don't forget the catchphrase. Every good superhero needs a catchphrase."

"How about... 'It's time to clean up this mess!'" Joshua suggested, lowering his voice to a gravelly superhero register.

Y/N burst out laughing. "Perfect! Watch out, evil-doers. The Laundry Avenger is here to take you to the cleaners!"

As they continued to riff on increasingly absurd laundry-themed superhero ideas, Joshua marveled at how comfortable he felt. Usually, prolonged social interaction left him drained, but with Y/N, he felt energized, like he could keep talking for hours.

All too soon, their laundry was done, and they found themselves standing outside Suds & Bubbles, clean clothes in hand.

"Well," Y/N said, shifting her laundry bag to her other shoulder, "this was fun. Who knew doing laundry could be such an adventure?"

Joshua nodded, trying to ignore the sinking feeling in his stomach. He didn't want this to end. "Yeah, it was great. Maybe we could, uh..." He trailed off, suddenly unsure.

Y/N raised an eyebrow. "Yes?"

Joshua took a deep breath. It was now or never. "Maybe we could do this again sometime? The laundry thing, I mean. And the coffee. Or, you know, just hanging out. If you want."

Y/N's face broke into a wide grin. "Joshua Hong, are you asking me on a laundry date?"

"Maybe?" Joshua said, then, gathering his courage, "Yes. Yes, I am."

"Well, in that case," Y/N said, pretending to consider it seriously, "I suppose I could pencil you in for my next laundry day. Someone's got to make sure you don't fall victim to the Sock Gnomes, after all."

Joshua felt like his heart might burst. "It's a date. A laundry date."

As they parted ways, Joshua couldn't keep the grin off his face. He'd done it. He'd successfully engineered an "accidental" meeting, and even better, he'd secured another one.

Operation Laundry Love, he decided, was a resounding success.

Little did he know, Y/N was walking away with a similar grin on her face, thinking to herself, "I wonder if he realizes I don't usually do my laundry on Saturdays?"

But that, as they say, is a story for another load of laundry.

-

The next few weeks passed in a blur of laundry detergent, coffee dates, and increasingly elaborate excuses for Joshua's constant presence at Suds & Bubbles. He had become something of a legend among the regular patrons, who watched his blossoming relationship with Y/N with the rapt attention usually reserved for soap operas.

"What's the crisis this week, son?" Mr. Jenkins, the elderly man who had first caught onto Joshua's scheme, asked one Saturday.

Joshua, who had just arrived and was scanning the laundromat for any sign of Y/N, startled at the question. "Oh, uh... paint," he said, grabbing wildly at the first excuse that came to mind. "Lots of paint. Everywhere. I'm thinking of taking up abstract expressionism."

Mr. Jenkins nodded sagely. "Ah, yes. A noble pursuit. Though I must say, your clothes look remarkably clean for someone covered in paint."

Joshua glanced down at his spotless jeans and t-shirt, realizing his mistake too late. "I... changed before coming here?"

"Of course, of course," Mr. Jenkins said, his eyes twinkling with amusement. "And I'm sure it has nothing to do with the charming young lady you've been meeting here every week."

Before Joshua could stammer out a response, the bell above the door chimed. He turned, his heart doing its now-familiar leap as Y/N walked in.

She was wearing a sundress today, her hair for once free of its usual chaotic bun and falling in waves around her shoulders. Joshua felt his breath catch in his throat.

Y/N spotted him and grinned, making her way over. "Well, if it isn't my favorite laundry buddy," she said. "What's the disaster today? Attacked by a rogue sprinkler system? Fell into a vat of maple syrup?"

Joshua, still a bit dazed by her appearance, blurted out, "Paint."

Y/N raised an eyebrow. "Paint?"

"Uh, yeah," Joshua said, committing to the lie. "I'm taking up abstract expressionism."

Y/N's eyes lit up with mischief. "Oh really? And here I thought you were more of a performance art kind of guy. You know, the kind where you keep showing up at a laundromat week after week, pretending to have laundry emergencies."

Joshua felt his face heat up. "I... what? No, I just... I mean..."

Y/N laughed, the sound bright and clear in the humming atmosphere of the laundromat. "Relax, Joshua. I'm just teasing. Though I have to admit, I am curious about this sudden interest in art. Care to elaborate while we wait for our clothes to wash?"

Still a bit flustered, Joshua nodded. As they loaded their machines (Joshua had actually brought laundry this time, having run out of clean clothes due to his frequent "emergencies"), he found himself spinning an increasingly complex tale about his newfound passion for abstract art.

"So there I was," he said, warming to his theme, "staring at this blank canvas, when suddenly I was struck by inspiration. I grabbed the nearest paint can and just... let loose."

Y/N nodded solemnly. "As one does. And the paint just happened to get all over your clothes in the process?"

"Exactly!" Joshua said, relieved that she seemed to be buying it. "You know how it is with artistic passion. Sometimes you just can't contain it."

"Mm-hmm," Y/N hummed, her eyes sparkling with barely contained laughter. "And what, pray tell, was the subject of this masterpiece?"

Joshua, who knew about as much about art as he did about deep-sea fishing, panicked. "It was... a commentary on the existential dread of modern laundry practices?"

There was a beat of silence, and then Y/N burst out laughing. "Oh my god," she wheezed, clutching her sides. "That is the most ridiculous thing I've ever heard, and I love it. Please tell me you're going to display this masterpiece in a gallery. I would pay good money to see a painting about the existential dread of laundry."

Joshua, realizing he'd been caught out, couldn't help but join in her laughter. "Alright, alright," he admitted once they'd both calmed down a bit. "I may have exaggerated the paint situation a tiny bit."

"A tiny bit?" Y/N asked, wiping tears of mirth from her eyes. "Joshua Hong, I do believe you've been telling me tall tales. I'm shocked. Shocked and appalled."

"Would it help if I said I was inspired by your artistic influence?" Joshua offered, grinning.

Y/N pretended to consider this. "Hmm, flattery will get you everywhere. But I think you owe me a coffee for this blatant deception. And maybe a painting about laundry-based existential dread."

"Deal," Joshua said, relieved that she seemed more amused than annoyed by his fib. "Though I warn you, my artistic skills are limited to stick figures and the occasional smiley face."

"Perfect," Y/N declared. "I expect nothing less than a masterpiece of stick figure angst surrounded by washing machines. You have one week to deliver, Mr. Hong."

As they made their way to what had become their usual table at the coffee shop next door, Joshua marveled at how comfortable he felt with Y/N. The nervousness that had plagued him during their first few meetings had given way to an easy camaraderie, punctuated by their shared love of terrible jokes and pop culture references.

"So," Y/N said once they were settled with their drinks (a simple latte for Joshua, and something that seemed to consist mostly of whipped cream and caramel for Y/N), "now that we've established your budding career as an abstract expressionist, what's really been going on with you this week?"

Joshua, caught off guard by the sincere question, found himself answering honestly. "Oh, you know, the usual. Work's been pretty hectic. We're launching a new software update next month, so everyone's been pulling long hours."

Y/N nodded sympathetically. "Sounds stressful. Is that why you've been coming to the laundromat so often? Blowing off steam by cleaning your clothes?"

There was something in her tone, a hint of... what? Hope? Curiosity? Joshua couldn't quite place it, but it made his heart rate pick up.

"Well, that's part of it," he admitted, deciding to take a risk. "But mostly... I've been hoping to run into you."

Y/N's eyes widened slightly, a faint blush coloring her cheeks. "Oh," she said softly. Then, a smile spreading across her face, "You know, you could have just asked for my number. It would have saved you a fortune in quarters."

Joshua groaned, burying his face in his hands. "I know, I know. I just... I wasn't sure if you'd want to hang out outside of our laundry days. And then it became this whole thing, and I didn't know how to bring it up without sounding like a complete weirdo."

Y/N reached across the table, gently pulling his hands away from his face. "Joshua," she said, her voice warm with affection, "you are a complete weirdo. But you're my kind of weirdo."

Joshua felt a surge of warmth in his chest. "Yeah?"

"Yeah," Y/N confirmed. "Now, are you going to ask for my number like a normal person, or do I need to write it on a dryer sheet and hide it in your laundry?"

Laughing, Joshua pulled out his phone. As they exchanged numbers, he felt as though a weight had been lifted off his shoulders. No more elaborate excuses, no more anxiously waiting at the laundromat hoping Y/N would show up.

"So," he said once their numbers were safely stored in each other's phones, "now that we've entered the digital age, what do you want to do for our next non-laundry related hangout?"

Y/N's eyes lit up. "Oh, I have the perfect idea! There's this new escape room place that just opened up downtown. The theme is... wait for it... a haunted laundromat!"

Joshua blinked. "You're kidding."

"Nope!" Y/N said, grinning. "It's called 'Spin Cycle of Terror.' Apparently, you have to solve puzzles related to missing socks, detergent bottle clues, and a vengeful dryer spirit. It's supposed to be hilariously bad."

"That sounds absolutely terrible," Joshua said. Then, unable to keep the smile off his face, "When do we go?"

Y/N clapped her hands in excitement. "I knew you'd be up for it! How about next Saturday? Unless you have another painting emergency, of course."

"I think I can clear my schedule," Joshua said dryly. "Though I may need to stock up on laundry-themed good luck charms. You never know when a vengeful dryer spirit might strike."

As they continued to chat, making plans for their upcoming escape room adventure, Joshua found himself marveling at the turn his life had taken. A month ago, he would never have imagined himself looking forward to a cheesy haunted laundromat experience. But with Y/N, even the most ridiculous activities seemed like the best way to spend an evening.

The week leading up to their escape room date (and Joshua's heart did a little flip every time he thought of it as a date) passed in a flurry of text messages. Y/N, it turned out, was a prolific texter, sending Joshua everything from random song lyrics to photos of particularly interesting clouds to long, rambling messages about her day.

Joshua, who had never been much for texting, found himself eagerly checking his phone at every opportunity, just in case Y/N had sent something new.

"Dude, what's got you so smiley?" his coworker, Hoshi's, asked one day after catching Joshua grinning at his phone for the third time in an hour.

"Oh, uh, nothing," Joshua said, hastily putting his phone away. "Just... a funny meme."

Hoshi's raised an eyebrow. "A funny meme that's been making you check your phone every five minutes for the past week? Come on, spill. You've met someone, haven't you?"

Joshua felt his face heat up. "Maybe," he admitted.

Hoshi's whooped, drawing curious glances from their other coworkers. "I knew it! Our little Joshua is all grown up and in love. So, who's the lucky lady? Or gentleman? Or non-binary individual?"

"Her name is Y/N," Joshua said, unable to keep the smile off his face. "We met at the laundromat."

Hoshi's's eyebrows shot up. "The laundromat? Seriously? Man, and here I thought all those cheesy rom-coms were lying to us. Good for you, buddy. When do we get to meet her?"

The question caught Joshua off guard. He and Y/N had been in their own little bubble for the past few weeks, but the idea of introducing her to his friends and coworkers made everything feel suddenly more real.

"I... don't know," he admitted. "We're still figuring things out."

Hoshi's nodded understandingly. "No pressure, man. Just know that when you're ready, we're all dying to meet the girl who's got you checking your phone like a lovesick teenager."

As Saturday approached, Joshua found himself growing increasingly nervous. This would be their first real date outside of the laundromat and coffee shop. What if things were awkward? What if the easy rapport they'd developed over shared loads of laundry didn't translate to other settings?

By the time Saturday evening rolled around, Joshua was a bundle of nerves. He changed his outfit three times before settling on a simple button-down shirt and jeans, then spent an inordinate amount of time trying to get his hair to cooperate.

"It's just Y/N," he told his reflection, trying to calm his racing heart. "You've seen her elbow-deep in dirty laundry. This is no big deal."

But as he arrived at the address Y/N had sent him, he couldn't shake the feeling that this was, in fact, a very big deal.

The escape room place was tucked between a trendy vegan restaurant and a vintage clothing store. A neon sign proclaimed "Spin Cycle of Terror" in lurid pink letters, complete with a cartoon ghost emerging from a washing machine.

Joshua was so busy staring at the sign, wondering what he'd gotten himself into, that he didn't notice Y/N approaching until she was right beside him.

"Pretty epic, right?" she said, making him jump.

"Y/N! Hi! You... you look great," Joshua stammered, taking in her appearance. She was wearing a dress patterned with tiny washing machines and bubbles, her hair pulled back in a messy bun with what appeared to be a clothespin.

Y/N did a little twirl. "You like? I figured if we're going to face a vengeful dryer spirit, we might as well dress the part."

Joshua laughed, feeling some of his nervousness dissipate. "It's perfect. I feel underdressed now. I should have at least worn a shirt with a sock pattern or something."

"Next time," Y/N said with a wink. "Now come on, we've got some laundry-based puzzles to solve!"

As they entered the escape room, Joshua was hit with a wave of artificial lavender scent. The room was set up to look like the world's most over-the-top laundromat, complete with washing machines that seemed to be made entirely of glitter and dryers that emitted an ominous red glow.

"Welcome to the Spin Cycle of Terror," a bored-looking employee droned, clearly having repeated this speech many times. "You have one hour to solve the mystery of the missing socks and appease the vengeful spirit of Agatha Cleanpress, the laundromat's former owner. Failure to do so will result in you being cursed to fold fitted sheets for all eternity."

"Jokes on them," Y/N whispered to Joshua. "I already can't fold fitted sheets."

Joshua snorted, earning a glare from the employee.

"Your time starts... now," the employee said, hitting a button that started a comically large timer on the wall.

What followed was an hour of the most ridiculous, pun-filled, laundry-themed puzzle-solving Joshua had ever experienced. They deciphered clues hidden in detergent bottles, played a memory game with different types of stains, and even had to perform what the instructions called a "sock puppet séance" to communicate with Agatha's spirit.

Throughout it all, Joshua found himself laughing more than he had in years. Y/N attacked each puzzle with enthusiasm, her running commentary on the increasingly absurd challenges keeping Joshua in stitches.

"Oh come on," she exclaimed at one point, elbow-deep in a bin of mismatched socks. "How is this even a puzzle? This is just my normal laundry experience!"

As the final seconds ticked down, they found themselves facing the last challenge: a riddle that would supposedly reveal the location of Agatha's missing lucky sock and put her spirit to rest.

"I am not alive, but I grow; I don't have lungs, but I need air; I don't have a mouth, but water kills me. What am I?" Y/N read aloud.

They looked at each other, momentarily stumped.

"Not alive but grows... needs air... water kills it," Joshua muttered, running a hand through his hair.

Y/N's eyes suddenly lit up. "Fire!" she exclaimed. "It's fire!"

They looked around frantically, spotting a cardboard fireplace in the corner that they had dismissed earlier as mere set dressing.

Racing over, they found a hidden compartment containing a single, sparkly sock.

"We did it!" Y/N cheered, just as the timer buzzed.

The room was suddenly filled with the sound of canned applause, and a holographic image of a ghostly old woman appeared.

"Congratulations," the 'ghost' said in a voice that sounded suspiciously like the bored employee who had greeted them. "You have solved the mystery and found my lucky sock. You are now free from the curse of eternal fitted sheet folding. Please exit through the gift shop."

As they emerged from the escape room, still high on their victory, Joshua felt a surge of affection for Y/N. Her hair had come partly loose from its bun, her cheeks were flushed with excitement, and she was clutching the sparkly sock they'd been allowed to keep as a souvenir.

"That," Y/N declared, "was the most ridiculously awesome thing I've ever done."

"It really was," Joshua agreed, still grinning. He hesitated for a moment, then added, "You know, I never thought I'd have this much fun pretending to be cursed by a laundromat ghost."

Y/N bumped her shoulder against his playfully. "See? This is why you need me in your life. To introduce you to the wonderful world of laundry-based entertainment."

As they walked out onto the street, the cool evening air a refreshing change from the lavender-scented escape room, Joshua felt a surge of courage.

"Hey," he said, his heart racing, "do you want to grab some dinner? I mean, if you're not sick of me after an hour of sock sorting and ghost appeasing."

Y/N's face lit up. "Are you kidding? After all that excitement, I'm starving. Plus, I think we need to celebrate our victory over Agatha Cleanpress. Any ideas?"

Joshua thought for a moment, then grinned. "Actually, I know just the place. How do you feel about continuing our laundry theme?"

Y/N raised an eyebrow, intrigued. "Color me curious, Mr. Hong. Lead the way!"

Twenty minutes later, they found themselves standing in front of a small, quirky restaurant called "The Soap Suds Café."

"No way," Y/N breathed, taking in the washing machine-shaped menu boards and the waitstaff dressed in what appeared to be high-fashion interpretations of laundromat uniforms. "This is amazing. How did you even know about this place?"

Joshua rubbed the back of his neck, suddenly feeling a bit sheepish. "I, uh, may have done some research on laundry-themed attractions in the area. You know, just in case."

Y/N turned to him, her eyes sparkling with amusement and something else... was that fondness? "Joshua Hong, you continue to surprise me. And here I thought I was the queen of ridiculous themed experiences."

As they were led to their table - a booth made to look like the inside of a front-loading washing machine - Joshua felt a warm glow of satisfaction. He'd managed to impress Y/N, to make her smile that radiant smile that never failed to make his heart skip a beat.

The menu, as it turned out, was just as themed as the decor. Appetizers were listed under "Pre-Wash Cycle," main courses under "Heavy Duty Wash," and desserts under "Fluff and Fold."

"I can't believe this place exists," Y/N said, giggling as she perused the menu. "Oh my god, they have a cocktail called 'Fabric Softener.' I don't know whether to be impressed or terrified."

"Why not both?" Joshua suggested. "I'm leaning towards the 'Spin Cycle Spritzer' myself."

As they ordered their meals (Y/N chose the "Delicate Wash Delight," a surprisingly elegant salad, while Joshua went for the "Heavy Duty Burger"), they fell into easy conversation, recounting their favorite moments from the escape room.

"I still can't believe you managed to untangle that giant knot of sheets so quickly," Y/N said, shaking her head in admiration. "If laundry folding was an Olympic sport, you'd definitely take the gold."

Joshua felt his cheeks warm at the praise. "Well, I had a pretty great partner. Your sock puppet séance was a thing of beauty. I think you might have missed your calling as a laundry medium."

Y/N struck a dramatic pose. "What can I say? The spirits of lost socks speak to me. It's both a gift and a curse."

As their food arrived (served on plates designed to look like old-fashioned washboards), Joshua found himself marveling at how comfortable he felt. Here he was, in a ridiculous laundry-themed restaurant, with a woman he'd met only a few weeks ago, and yet it felt like the most natural thing in the world.

"You know," Y/N said, pausing in her attack on her salad, "I have a confession to make."

Joshua felt a flutter of nervousness in his stomach. "Oh?"

Y/N nodded, a mischievous glint in her eye. "I don't actually do my laundry every Saturday."

Joshua blinked, processing this information. "You... don't?"

"Nope," Y/N said, popping the 'p'. "I usually do it on Sundays. But after we met that first time, I started coming on Saturdays. You know, just in case a certain software developer with a penchant for laundry emergencies happened to show up."

Joshua felt his jaw drop. "You mean... all this time..."

Y/N grinned. "Yep. Looks like we were both playing the 'accidental' meeting game. Although I have to say, your excuses were way more creative than mine. I just pretended to have a very messy lifestyle."

For a moment, Joshua was speechless. Then, he burst out laughing. "I can't believe it," he managed between chuckles. "Here I was, thinking I was being so clever."

Y/N joined in his laughter. "Hey, you were! I was impressed by your dedication. The paint excuse was particularly inspired."

As their laughter subsided, Joshua felt a wave of affection wash over him. "You know," he said softly, "you could have just asked for my number too."

Y/N's smile turned a bit shy. "I know. But where's the fun in that? Besides, I kind of liked our laundry day meetups. They were... special."

Joshua nodded, understanding completely. There was something magical about those Saturdays, something that might have been lost if they'd rushed into regular dating too quickly.

"Well," he said, raising his 'Spin Cycle Spritzer', "here's to laundry emergencies, escape rooms, and ridiculously themed restaurants."

Y/N clinked her 'Fabric Softener' against his glass. "And to new beginnings that smell like lavender detergent."

As they continued their meal, the conversation flowed easily from topic to topic. They discovered a shared love of obscure indie bands, debated the merits of various streaming services, and somehow ended up in a heated but good-natured argument about the best way to organize a bookshelf.

"I'm telling you," Y/N insisted, gesturing with a forkful of salad, "organizing by color is the way to go. It's aesthetically pleasing and makes your bookshelf look like a rainbow!"

Joshua shook his head, grinning. "But how do you find anything? What if you can't remember what color the book cover is?"

"That's half the fun!" Y/N exclaimed. "It's like a treasure hunt every time you want to read something."

As Joshua opened his mouth to retort, he was struck by a sudden realization. He could see himself having this exact debate years from now, in a shared apartment, surrounded by a mix of his meticulously organized books and Y/N's color-coded chaos. The thought should have terrified him - Joshua had always been cautious about relationships, preferring the safety of his orderly life. But instead, he felt a warm glow of contentment.

"Earth to Joshua," Y/N's voice broke through his reverie. "You okay there? You looked like you were a million miles away."

Joshua blinked, focusing back on Y/N's concerned face. "Sorry, I just... I was thinking about how much I'm enjoying this. Being here, with you."

Y/N's expression softened. "Yeah?"

"Yeah," Joshua confirmed. Then, gathering his courage, he reached across the table and took her hand. "I really like you, Y/N. And not just because you make laundry day the highlight of my week."

Y/N turned her hand in his, interlacing their fingers. "I really like you too, Joshua. Even if you do have terrible ideas about bookshelf organization."

They shared a laugh, the tension of the moment breaking into something warm and comfortable.

As they finished their meal and stepped out into the cool night air, Joshua felt a sense of possibility that he hadn't experienced in years. Whatever this thing was between him and Y/N, wherever it might lead, he knew one thing for certain: his life would never be the same.

"So," Y/N said as they walked, their hands still linked, "same time next week at the laundromat?"

Joshua pretended to consider this. "I don't know, I might be busy. You know, with all my abstract expressionist paintings and laundry emergencies."

Y/N nudged him playfully. "Come on, I'll even let you borrow my lucky sock."

"Well, when you put it that way, how can I refuse?" Joshua said, grinning. Then, more seriously, "Although, maybe we could meet somewhere that doesn't involve washing machines next time? Not that I don't love our laundry adventures, but..."

"But it might be nice to see each other in a setting that doesn't smell like fabric softener?" Y/N finished for him.

"Exactly."

Y/N nodded, a soft smile playing on her lips. "I'd like that. Although I have to warn you, I may not be as charming without the backdrop of spin cycles and dryer sheets."

Joshua squeezed her hand gently. "Somehow, I doubt that."

As they reached the corner where they would have to part ways, Joshua felt a reluctance to let the evening end. "So, um, I'll text you? About our next non-laundry related hangout?"

Y/N nodded, her eyes twinkling. "You better. And who knows? If you play your cards right, I might even show you my color-coded bookshelf someday."

"I look forward to it," Joshua said, meaning it more than he'd ever meant anything in his life.

They stood there for a moment, neither wanting to be the first to say goodbye. Then, in a move that surprised even himself, Joshua leaned in and pressed a soft kiss to Y/N's cheek.

"Goodnight, Y/N," he said softly as he pulled back, his heart racing.

Y/N's cheeks were flushed, but she was smiling wider than ever. "Goodnight, Joshua. Thanks for a wonderful evening."

As Joshua watched Y/N walk away, he touched his lips, still feeling the warmth of her cheek against them. He had come a long way from the man who had walked into Suds & Bubbles a few weeks ago, his life as orderly and predictable as his laundry routine.

Now, as he made his way home, Joshua felt as though his world had been turned upside down in the best possible way. His thoughts were a whirlwind of escape rooms and laundry puns, of shared laughter and intertwined fingers.

One thing was certain: Joshua Hong was falling, and falling hard. And for once in his life, he was perfectly happy to let the cycle run its course.

' MOVE FAST, KEEP QUIET ' | y. jeonghan

synopsis : the one where everyone's wondering who has captured the heart of one racing's brightest stars. is it their very own engineer? their teammate? their biggest rival? well, the answer is none of those three. pairing : yoon jeonghan x gn!reader genre/s : smau, racer/f1 au, angst if you squint extra notes. kinda suggestive ? also, yes ik strategist and engineer are two diff roles but for the sake of simplicity they're the same thing now HAHAHA

song rec : taylor swift's i can see you

from reese, with love <3

is this a one-shot..? will it be a series..? i genuinely don't know i just wanted to combine my three personality traits : kpop, tswift, and f1 HAHAHA also my fingers have been itching to write something based on icsy the second i heard it >_< ty for reading ! i would really love to know what you think of this particular one- asks/replies/rbs are much appreciated hehe hope you're all taking care !