Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

“You’re acting strange,” Jung Heewon pants, her sword hand shaking. Kim Dokja wipes blood from his cheek and stares at her strangely.

“How so?” he inquires just as Jung Heewon lunges at him. Kim Dokja takes one step to the side and Jung Heewon’s sword plunges into the snow. She turns around to glare at him.

“Ever since you came back this morning,” she says, rolling her shoulders. She abandons her sword in place for the two daggers strapped to her thigh. Jung Heewon readjusts her stance and says with annoyance, “You’ve been distracted a lot more than usual.”

“What exactly do you mean by distracted?” Kim Dokja asks but he doesn't get a response. Instead, Jung Heewon runs towards him at a frankly terrifying speed with both of her daggers pointed straight at him. Kim Dokja’s sword is in front of him and he anticipates the attack. Or, at least he thought he did.

Rather than just trying to stab in the jugular like any normal person, Jung Heewon sweeps down and her daggers slash at his ankles. Kim Dokja doesn't even have enough time to be surprised because she then elbows him in the stomach with both of her arms and uses a swift kick to sweep his feet from under him. He lands on the snow with her on top of him, arms flailing as he tries to push her off of him but then she stabs him in the hand with one of her daggers and points the other one dangerously close to his eyeball.

“This,” she says whilst she sits on his chest, wild irritation swirling in her eyes, “is what I mean by distracted. You never even let me touch you when we spar.”

“Maybe I was just being nice,” he says resting his head against the snow. He feels the cool metal of her dagger rest just below his eye and he raises an annoyed eyebrow at her. “If you could please—” he gestures with the one hand that is not being pinned down by her weight.

Jung Heewon acquiesces with a huff and Kim Dokja feels as though he can breathe again. He throws his hands over his face and sighs. How was it that he has managed to get pinned down twice in less than six hours? He closes his eyes in embarrassment.

“You’re never nice,” Kim Dokja hears Jung Hewon say from somewhere above him.

Kim Dokja squawks, indignant. “I’m plenty nice!” his voice comes out muffled from where it stays secured under his hands.

“You weren’t nice yesterday or the day before that or the day before that—”

“Just help me up, fuck.”

Jung Heewon snorts at him like the wicked little thing she is and swats at his shins with her feet.

“Way to kick a man while he’s down, Heewon-ssi.” He opens his eyes just to glare at her with all the animosity he feels which— well isn’t much but it’s still definitely there.

She smiles briefly at him and then plops down on the snow by his side. She’s sat right next to his head and the hilt of the blade in her boot digs into his calf. Jung Heewon doesn’t say anything for a long time and Kim Dokja doesn't feel inclined to disrupt the companionable silence mingling through the air.

When she speaks, it’s not sudden. Her voice is contemplative. Unreadable, even.

“You wanna talk about it?” 

He turns to her with a quirked eyebrow, a wry smile on his face. “Talk about…?”

“You know—” she gestures to the sky with a gloved hand ”—your whole thing.”

“You may have to use a bit more words.”

She rolls her eyes at him and balls up snow in her hand. She laughs, “The Yoo Joonghyuk thing.”

Both of Kim Dokja’s eyebrows shoot up past his eyebrows and his jaw nearly drops in shock. “You mean the Yoo Joonghyuk thing that doesn’t exist? What in the ever-loving hell are you talking about?”

“You know, the massive gooey hard-on you have for him. That Yoo Joonghyuk thing.”

Jung Heewon throws the snowball and it lands smack on his forehead. He’s too disoriented from the daze her words send him in to duck so he just rubs his head and glares. Then, he conjures up a massive snowball with a flicker of his hand and hurls it at Jung Heewon.

While she’s spitting curses at him from her position on the ground, smothered under a cloud of white, freezing snow, Kim Dokja stands up and dusts off the snow from his clothes.

“Once you’re done talking rubbish, do come inside. I’d hate for you to get hypothermia and die,” Kim Dokja says with faux solemnity. “You’re still such a wonderful asset to me. Hurry up, please.”

Then he walks back inside the mouth of the cavern, Jung Heewon’s obscene and vile threats following him all the way.

Kim Dokja enters the cavern and pauses right before he walks past the warming wards. He stills, looks up, sighs, and then rolls his eyes. “You’re not sly.”

“Ah, shit,” A voice says from somewhere around him. “How do you always know when it’s me?”

“Because you’re predictable,” Kim Dokja says, staring at the freshly woven in wards that would have dropped boiling hot water on him should he have walked over it. “And a bitch.”

Han Sooyoung removes her concealment spell and grins at him from behind the wards. “Like calls to like.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Kim Dokja says offhandedly. “Are you going to remove this or should I drag you over to get a taste of your own medicine?”

Han Sooyoung scoffs. “Like you would.”

“Wouldn’t I?” He wouldn’t, but he makes his tone sound very very convincing.

“Oh, you pretentious bastard.” She punctuates her sentence by waving her hand and the foreign wards disappear immediately. Kim Dokja has never excelled or shown an interest in spellwork apart from the magic he has in him, but he’s still always impressed by how Han Sooyoung so casually does spells that take others decades to master.

Not that he would ever tell her that, but still. Impressive.

Kim Dokja shoves her out of the way as he walks past and she shoves him right back, with a strengthening spell most likely because, as distracted as he is, he tumbles into the cave wall.

Kim Dokja seriously considers burying her alive but Han Sooyoung laughs at him in glee before dragging him over to the small corner in the cave she labelled her temporary workplace. “You know the charm you described to me earlier? The one that was on the girl’s sword?”

“Yeah?” Kim Dokja grumbles. He rubs his shoulders in annoyance.

“I know what it is.”

“Yeah?” This time, his voice sounds considerably more enthusiastic. “That was quick. Who knew you could be so competent?”

Han Sooyoung looks at him unimpressed but not offended because she knows him well enough to know he’s lying through his teeth. She elects to ignore his comment and starts talking about the charm.

“It’s a special kind of branding charm,” She starts, her voice gleeful as she picks up the spear from beside her. She conjures up a cap for the pointy end and puts it on the spear.

“Branding charm?” Kim Dokja asks, his curiosity piqued. “Isn't that only really used for married couples?”

Did he completely underestimate how young Lee Jiyhe is? Were she and Yoo Joonghyuk married, or something? Kim Dokja tries to ignore the queasy feeling in his gut at that thought and tries to think rationally. Lee Jihye called Yoo Joonghyuk master, didn't she? If they were married she surely would have called him something more familiar.

And Lee Jihye doesn’t seem older than 20. Yoo Joonghyuk doesn't look like the kind of guy to go after younger girls, too. It seems improbable that they would be married, Kim Dokja thinks firmly. Completely improbable.

“That’s why I said a special kind,” Han Sooyoung’s voice cuts through his thoughts. “If it was a normal branding charm you would have felt, ah, tension? Chemistry? I don't know what word to use but you would have felt it nonetheless.”

Ridiculously, Kim Dokja feels a part of his muscles that he didn't realise were tensed, relax instantly. Kim Dokja directs a confused furrow of his eyebrows inwardly to himself before he snaps out of it to catch whatever it is that Han Sooyoung is saying.

“— kind of branding charm was modified in a way to remove all the, um, marital aspects of it,” she continues. “Normally, when a couple uses a branding charm on one of their belongings, if someone foreign touches it, it alerts their significant other. Branding charms are closely tied to emotional, romantic bonds, usually. So it’s only if one is in actual danger that their significant other would be notified.”

“Okay,” Kim Dokja says easily. He doesn’t really get it, to be honest, but whatever. “Then how does this one work?”

Han Sooyoung hums and waves her hand in front of the tip of her spear, the one covered with a cap. “That branding charm, I’m assuming, from what you told me, is casted in a way that it notifies the other person whenever it’s touched by anyone else. Here, try this.”

She shoves the spear in his face impatiently. “Remove the cap,” she says.

Kim Dokja does. Immediately, a bright, harsh white light emits from Han Sooyoung’s hand. She hisses quietly and shoves her hand in his face. He can feel the heat brushing the sides of his jaw.

“Huh,” he says intelligently. He grips her wrist and holds it at length so he can inspect the light properly. “It’s very…. Bright.”

Han Sooyoung snorts. “Yeah.”

“Does it hurt at all?”

“A little.” she wiggles her hand out of his and brings it closer to her chest. “It’s hot and really irritating.”

“Hmm.” he experimentally takes the spear out of Han Sooyoung's hands completely only to then get nearly slapped in the face. “Oh is that worse?”

“Is that worse? Of course, it’s worse! Not everyone’s a beast like you! Christ, Dokja.”

Kim Dokja smiles guiltily. He releases the spear hastily. “My most sincere apologies.”

“Sincere apologies my foot,” she grumbles. The spear is snatched up from its position on the ground and placed reverently near her. “Fuck.”

Kim Dokja winces. “I am actually sorry.”

Han Sooyoung waves him away with her good hand. “It’s fine, ugh. At least we know how it’s supposed to work now.”

“So this is what Yoo— ah, the supreme king felt when I took the girl’s sword.”

She raises an eyebrow. “Precisely.”

“Huh.” He crosses his arms over his chest to try and portray nonchalance. He doesn’t think it works very well. “Good to know.”

“Not that I’m not happy about this new, ah, spell to tinker with,” Han Sooyoung throws out after several, painful seconds of staring at him with an unimpressed eyebrow raise. “But why exactly have you brought this to me?”

“Curiosity.”

“Curiosity,” she repeats, sceptical.

“Yes.”

“You really need to get better at lying, Dokja. This is getting embarrassing.”

“I am excellent at lying!”

“So you admit you’re lying, then?”

“Wh— no— yo—” He stares, horrified, as his own mouth fails him and Han Sooyoung, wickedly amused, stares back with a demonic smile curling at her lips.

“Wh— no— yo—” 

“Stop it.”

Han Sooyoung nearly face plants from laughing too hard. In his head, Kim Dokja imagines 101 ways she dies a miserable death.

“God, you’re just so obvious,” she cackles, wiping an actual godforsaken tear from the corner of her eye. 

“No idea what you’re talking about.”

“Oh really?” Han Sooyoung gets up and stretches her arms. Then she starts circling him. Like a vulture. Kim Dokja is by no means scared—he’s known this girl since he was 15—, but he may be just a tiny bit unsettled. A tiny bit.

“You disappear for hours on end earlier, informing no one—”

“That wasn’t even my fault!”

“Ok fine,” she huffs, “It wasn’t even your fault. However, it still happened, regardless of faults.”

Kim Dokja rolls his eyes. 

“Anyway, you disappear for hours— shut the fuck up, I'm being so serious— then you come back bursting out of your seams with excitement as you trip over yourself gushing over—”

“I do not gush.”

“Ah, sorry, my mistake. Correction, as you wax poetic about the supreme king—”

“That’s even worse!”

“Someone who is famously known for hunting, hmm, how should I put this? Right, magical creatures. Demons, in particular. Wait, hold on, doesn’t that sound familiar? Oh it does, doesn’t it? Why? Why does it sound oh so familiar?”

Kim Dokja grits his teeth.

“Because you, your Highness, only heir to the underworld throne, is a demon and, no, not just any demon, a winged, born demon. Isn’t that just so ironic?”

“Are you done?”

“No, I don't think so,” she gripes, grin insufferable on her face. “I find I have plenty more to say.”

Kim Dokja groans. “Not only are you reading too much into nothing, you are also over-emphasising and dramatising every word that falls out of your mouth.”

“I do not dramatise anything.” At Kim Dokja’s raised eyebrow, she amends, “Ok, I dramatise things just a bit but I’m not dramatising or over-emphasizing on this, Dokja. You should have seen your face when you were talking about the supreme king. You kept on stumbling over your words because you most definitely left some things out of your little story. And your face was so red it was a bit concerning. Hyunsung thought you had a fever!”

“The weather is cold!”

“You were in literal demon form. Try again.”

“Well— I—” Kim Dokja sighs, runs a hand over his face. “What do you want me to say?”

“Admit it.”

“Admit what?” Most of the time, arguing with Han Sooyoung is more than pleasant; they know how to match each other barb for barb and most of the time, their harsher insults are all jokes, but right now, in this very moment, all Kim Dokja would like is to. just. Throw her over a mountain. Is that so wrong?

“You have a big fat juicy crush on the supreme king.”

Kim Dokja stares at her. 

“Please,” he says, “please for the love of all things good, bad, and ridiculous, be fucking serious.”

“Kim Dokja,” she groans. “Denial, denial, denial. It's not good for you.”

“It's not denial because there's nothing to deny.”

“Ok. Fine.” She starts walking away but just as she gets to the mouth of the cave, she throws over her shoulder, “Just don't be surprised when this all blows up in your face.”

Kim Dokja’s eyes narrow but whatever curse he shoots at her in his head doesn't faze her in the slightest. She's gone and everyone else in the cave; Lee Hyunsung and the kids are all staring at various parts of the cavern as if it's the most interesting thing in the world, almost like they weren’t eavesdropping on everything he and Han Sooyoung were talking about, awkward silence thickening up the cave like ice.

Kim Dokja picks at his nails with a huff. Han Sooyoung doesn't know what she's talking about. Jung Heewon doesn’t know what she’s talking about, either. Him? Yoo Joonghyuk? A crush? Ridiculous, that's what it is.

Yeah.

Definitely ridiculous.

Awareness comes to Yoo Joonghyuk in phases. He blinks first, noting the dark design of wood in the ceiling of his room quarters, afternoon sunlight streaming through the windows which— odd. He was sure he closed those before he fell asleep.

Phantom arms claw at the skin of his back, hot, imaginary breath ghosting at the back of his neck, the remnants of his dream still at the forefront of his mind. His throat feels dry and his limbs are like lead, heavy like deadweight on the hardness of his mattress. Yoo Sangah has been subtly(not) trying to convince him to switch his bed for something more soft. In her words, his mattress feels like pins and needles and has the consistency of a layer of rocks, and really, your grace, how is your back not dead to the world already?

And normally, usually, he disagrees with her. He keeps his mattress this hard for a reason; it enables him to not sleep in, or take unnecessary naps, or spend any more time needed in his bedroom quarters. Yoo Joonghyuk is a busy man; he cannot waste the few hours he has in the day idle in his bed, of all places.

But now….. hm. He may or may not be starting to understand her point. His body feels like it's been weighted down by metal, and his bed isn’t making him feel any better. Absently, before he fell asleep, in the back of his mind, a voice, the one he should really pay more attention to, whispered to him that the (one-sided)fight he endured the day before was not at all easy, or simple, or facile, or painless, and yes, he’s going to wake up and feel like hell, this is why you don’t fight people, creatures, or otherwise you don’t know…. and he’s remembering why he doesn’t listen to this voice often. Or at all. It sounds too much like Yoo Sangah.

Still. His body hurts and this crappy bed is really starting to piss him off.

He spends one useless moment in his mind thinking that he should just. Not get up today; Yoo Sangah and Lee Seolwha would probably die of shock; his army would probably die out of relief. But then he thinks of himself relaxing(not really) in bed while there are others on his estate working hard and…… 

He gets up. He drags himself up from his bed, limbs stiff and creaking, and forces himself to dress up. He can’t afford to waste any time being indolent because of his own ill-thought mistakes. He doesn’t deserve to; he made his bed so he has to lay in it.

He makes his way to the washing room briskly, ignoring the burn in his legs, and throws a basin of water at his face. He stares at himself in the mirror's reflection for a few moments, ignoring the droplets falling into his eyes. He looks the same as always, if not just a bit frazzled, the pain he’s feeling all over doesn’t show on his face. It never has. He trained himself to be this way years ago; showing pain means showing weakness, and he’s not weak.

Yoo Joonghyuk is not weak. 

He’s not.

He—

Kick there; wrong. Swing your sword just so; wrong. Try this way. Punch there. Wrong wrong wrong. He has to win this. Why can't he win this? They’re staring at you. Laughing, pitying, frustrating. Stop being wrong, Yoo Joonghyuk. You are better than this. You should be better than this.

— is not weak. He cant be

His back straightens and his fingers curl into themselves. He grits his teeth and repeats the phrase over and over in his head. He can’t— he has too much on his plate to feel anything less than he is, anything less than he has made himself.

But you lost. That’s your problem. You keep on losing

One fight. That’s all it takes and his father’s stupid words are back in his head like a parasite.

He’s made a name for himself. He’s superseded every single expectation made of him. He’s strong, stronger than his father ever was, stronger than his father could ever be, strong enough to have and train an army, strong enough to train an army of his own. 

Not strong enough.

He can’t let his stupid insecurities get to him now, all because of one fight he isn't sure he would have ever won regardless.

He closes his eyes, takes a deep breath, shoves every unnecessary thought down to whatever evil box they came from, and steps out of the washing room.

He’s not particularly surprised when the first thing he sees when he opens the door is Yoo Sangah’s glare-not-glare staring up at him. He sighs.

“You are to be resting, your grace,” she frowns. She always says your grace in the exact same way whenever she’s scolding him, like what she really wants to call him is something way less appropriate and way more insulting.

“I have rested.”

“Yes, but you are to be resting more, your grace.”

“I have rested enough.”

Yoo Sangah’s eye twitches and he watches in amusement as she physically holds herself back from saying something they would probably both regret. She fixes on a wide, entirely false smile and says, “Your office is still indisposed. I’m afraid you won’t be able to work there for the rest of the day, unfortunately.”

Yoo Joonghyuk raises an eyebrow. “That’s fine. See to it that the training field is well equipped and that the rest of the guardsmen are ready for training within the hour. Today we’ll be going over defence against winged demons again. Ready the dummies and the posts.”

There’s a pause, and Yoo Sangah gives a slow, irritated blink before asking, “Your grace, did you not say yesterday that the rest of the soldiers are to be given an off day today?”

“Well, seeing as my office is indisposed, I’ve remembered that there are some things I need to go over with them immediately.”

Yoo Sangah’s smile doesn’t drop, nor does her irritation lessen. Still, she nods. “Yes, your grace. Please excuse me while I get everything ready.”

She doesn't wait for him to dismiss her and instead just glides out of the room muttering curses under her breath that he’ll pretend he doesn’t hear for both of their sakes.

He forgoes the dining hall and instead sets his sights on Mia’s study room where he just….. lingers. When he’s stood in front of the room for almost a full minute, he gets over himself and raises his hand to knock. Except he doesn’t get the chance to because the door swings open.

Yoo Mia’s face is twisted in bright irritation, her tutor behind her looking both distressed and constipated, but that clears right away when she sees him.

“Oppa!” she exclaims and gives him a swift, heartfelt hug that has his heart warmed to the very core.

“Mia,” he replies, and he struggles to keep his tone firm. “Are you done with your lessons yet?”

Yoo Mia looks behind her for a bit and then turns back to him with a scowl so similar to his own that he momentarily forgets himself and smiles, just a bit. Immediately, Yoo Mia smiles back and he rolls his eyes down at her.

“Well, Hwang seonsaeng-nim was just finishing up with the elementals practice so I guess you could say we’re done. Right?” She directs the last part to her tutor and Madam Hwang’s gaze switches from Yoo Mia to Yoo Joonghyuk, her face becoming more and more troubled the longer she stares.

Yoo Joonghyuk decides to pity her. “Madam Hwang,” he addresses as politely as he can manage. She snaps at attention, her hands folded behind her back.

“Yes, your grace?” 

“I was wondering if it was possible to relieve Mia of the rest of her lessons today?”

“Ah,” she looks substantially more at ease. “Yes, of course! Mia is already ahead of most of her work anyway. Brilliant girl! Mostly. Most of the time.”

He nods appreciatively down at Mia before dismissing her with a wave of his hand. She disappears from sight before he’s even fully turned back to his sister.

“Yoo Mia.”

She straightens up and a grimace passes over her face. “Yes, your grace.”

“Have you been harassing your tutor?”

“Well— I won’t call it harassing,” she says mullishly. “We just had some— disagreements, is all.”

“Disagreements,” he repeats, unimpressed.

“Yes, disagreements. Lots and lots of disagreements. It’s normal, oppa! You can’t tell me you didn’t have any disagreements with your tutors when you were younger,” she huffs at him. Yoo Joonghyuk sighs and starts leading her down the corridor to the dining hall.

“I didn’t,” he says firmly. I didn’t have any tutors to disagree with. The thought comes suddenly and unbidden and he dwells on it for half a second before brushing it away. 

Mia scowls at him. “I don’t believe you.” They enter the dining hall together to see the tables already overflowing with food. Mia nearly faints with joy.

“I don’t care,” he says once she stops squealing at the cupcakes. His hands settle on her shoulders and he leads her to the seat at the head of the table and sits her down. “Eat.”

Yoo Mia starts extending her hands, stops, and then looks up at him with a frown. “You’re not joining me?”

He shakes his head. “I have to train.”

“But I haven’t seen you all day! Sangah-unnie said you trained earlier this morning already.”

He curses Sangah in the safe confines of his head. “I need to train again.”

“But I want to spend time with you,” Mia wheedles and he feels his heart pierce.

“We can spend time with each other later.”

“Why can’t we do it now?” Her eyes are a bit wide, her lips quivering. Yoo Joonghyuk feels like a horrible, horrible person. “I feel like I never get to see you at all anymore.”

“Mia….”

She turns her head down and towards her plate, hiding a sniffle behind her palm. “No, it’s fine. I’m sorry, oppa. I’m just being immature.”

“Mia—”

“You can go, your grace. I’ll attend both my riding and fencing lessons on time. I won’t cause any trouble. You can go.”

Yoo Joonghyuk spends a few halting moments staring at her with his heart broken in two before she bites out a, “please,” so disappointed and sad that has him leaving the room lest he stay there for another 3 hours trying to undo all the nonsense he’s done both as an older brother and a person in general. 

He’ll make it up to her later but now he really is busy. He can’t— he shouldn’t spend any more time thinking about this. Mia just has to get used to his schedule better. He has things to do. He— he just. He has responsibilities that need greater tending to than coddling his younger sister.

And if that thought puts more strain than necessary on his heart, well. That’s no one’s business apart from his own.

It’s not long before he and the rest of the party are moving again. Kim Dokja, blessedly, is on an actual horse this time instead of locked away in a stuffy uncomfortable carriage. It took convincing, maybe even a little begging, but the carriage has been charmed down to the size of his fist and is currently in Lee Hyunsung’s satchel for safekeeping. Thank the fucking stars.

Kim Dokja trots on his horse a bit behind the rest of his party, stuck in his thoughts, until Heewon sends him a scathing glare from over her shoulder, mentally forcing him to lead his horse closer. When he’s close enough to her, he sticks his tongue out. She doesn’t deign him a response so he takes the mature decision to try and kick her off her horse. It doesn’t work, obviously, but it does result in giving the rest of his family a show as Jung Heewon gets off her horse and chases him around in circles all the while hacking her unsheathed sword dangerously at his head.

By the end of it, everyone in the group is laughing and smiling and Kim Dokja decides to forfeit just so he can see the smug smile grace Jung Heewon’s face. The atmosphere wasn’t tense before, per se, but now, yeah. It feels like everyone’s breathing easier, the tense lines of their shoulders dropped, if not completely, then mostly. Almost like the last 12 hours haven't happened at all.

He wishes it could stay like this.

God, how he wishes.

Eventually, a few hours into travelling through dense, thick snow, they come across something. Out of all of them in the party, only Jung Heewon and Lee Hyunsung don’t know how to wield magic, nor are they sensitive to it, so when they stumble upon an array, they are the only two not immediately set on alarm.

Kim Dokja raises an arm immediately and hops down from his horse. “Hold on.”

Lee Hyunsung stares ahead warily. “What’s going on?”

“An array,” he hears Lee Gilyoung say and inwardly Kim Dokja smiles. He’s been the one mostly teaching Gilyoung ever since he came into his care and the boy has been getting so much better at identifying different types of magic.

“A teleportation one it seems,” says Han Sooyoung, sliding up right next to him. “Yoosung-ah, Gilyoung-ie, I need you to take your horses back a bit.”

Even though he’s not looking at both of them, he can still practically feel the protests in the air. He’s amused, but he masks it well with sternness when he adds, “She’s right. We don’t know if there’s anything dangerous around it. Take your horses back and don't come closer until we tell you to.”

He stares at them unwaveringly until they begrudgingly move their horses several paces back, both with annoyed pouts on their faces. Kim Dokja rolls his eyes and turns back to Han Sooyoung. “What do you feel?”

“There are about 5 arrays set here,” she muses. “Three of them are teleportation ones, all seemingly leading to different areas. The other two….” She takes a step back, tilts her head to the side, and points at a part of the snow a few steps ahead of them. “You see this here?”

Kim Dokja looks, and at first, all he sees is white snow but then slowly, he notices a mist of magic rising above it, partitioning one side from the other. The mist is in a straight horizontal line and it extends far along on both the left and the right. There’s a near inaudible buzz and pop sounding from it. Kim Dokja scrunches up his nose. “Yeah, I see it,” he says to Han Sooyoung. “It’ll alert people if you cross over it, yes?”

She nods. “It extends far as well. One of them is a crossable barrier and the other one is a… containment? I think it’s a containment spell as well. To trap anyone with bad intentions, I’m guessing.”

“Can you read a signature on it? Figure out who casted it?”

Han Sooyoung shakes her head. “Whoever cast it covered their tracks well. And we can’t risk passing over it and alerting whoever that we’re here. It’s too dangerous….” She trails off and puts her thinking face on. “Unless…”

“Unless?” he prompts.

“I could try putting a charm on all of us, maybe? To conceal our signatures?”

“Like a modified concealment charm?”

“More like a modified cloaking charm.”

“Like an illusionary one? Won’t that take time?”

Han Sooyoung snorts. “Not at all. I’ve already begun working on something like this and it shouldn’t be too hard; Heewon and Hyunsung won’t need their signatures covered because they don’t have any magic in them, so a strong concealment spell should work. And the kids are still developing their abilities. A heavy cloaking charm wouldn’t be necessary for them yet.”

“What about you and me?”

Han Sooyoung shrugs. “I can handle it.”

Kim Dokja raises an eyebrow but nods all the same. Out of everyone he knows, Han Sooyoung is probably the only one he’s sure could ‘handle it’. “Do you want to start now?”

She rolls her eyes and shrugs out talisman paper from her satchel, stroking ink against it carefully with her quill. “I’ve already started.”

Kim Dokja claps her on the shoulder, careful not to jostle her too much and ruin her work, and walks away to where Lee Hyunsung and Jung Heewon are leaning against their horses, talking quietly with one another.

“Magic stuff dealt with?” Hyunsung asks, running a gloved hand through his hair.

He shrugs. “Sooyoung-ie’s working on it. Shouldn’t take too long, I reckon.”

Lee Hyunsung is quiet for a few seconds before he asks, “You said there was a barrier spell, right? And a containment one?”

Kim Dokja nods. Despite not having any magic, Lee Hyunsung has never shied away from learning more about it and trying his best to educate himself so he can be more of a help whenever there are any issues that can’t be solved with him using brute physical force like he was trained for.

“Didn’t you say that the Supreme King went this way when the both of you departed?”

Kim Dokja pauses and then blinks. He clears his throat. “Yes. Yes, I did.”

“So then doesn’t that mean he would have faced the same problems we’re having now? With the array?”

“Pro— Probably. Maybe. Most Likely?” he says, stumbling over his words. Jung Heewon raises a very judgemental eyebrow at him that has him rapidly turning red. Lee Hyungsung remains unfazed.

He nods to where Han Sooyoung is now sitting on a quilt by the array, hunched over a barrage of talisman paper. “There’s no sign of struggle by there. Or fight.”

Jung Heewon agrees, “You’re very right. And if there is a concealment spell, Yoo Joonghyuk would surely have been, ehm, concealed, right? He doesn’t seem to have the safest signature.”

“He doesn’t,” Kim Dokja says immediately, and fumbles when they both turn to stare at him. “Well, I– uh, I felt him up,” he adds hastily and immediately wants to take a sword to his face.

Jung Heewon smirks. “I’m sure you did.”

“His magic! I felt his magic! Just his magic, oh my god.” Jung Heewon hasn’t stopped smirking at him. He’s going to kill himself.

“Of course,” Lee Hyunsung intones placatingly and Kim Dokja is hit with the immediate and irrevocable urge to dig a hole in the ground and lay there forever. “But anyway, what I was trying to say was that it’s possible that the Supreme King is one of the people who made the array, and he could have used the transportation charm to leave the Unseen when the both of you departed.”

Jung Heewon throws one more amusing glance at Kim Dokja before shifting into an expression of seriousness. “It is possible.”

“It’s probable,” Kim Dokja adds, gaze on the ground, tapping his fingers on his chin. “I thought it was strange, at first. He seemingly came out of nowhere when we met.”

Lee Hyunsung’s eyes turn contemplative. “He’s the commander of the Kaizen army. It’s possible that the array alerts him of anyone trying to enter the Kaizen border and the transportation spell allows him to get to the capital with ease. Or wherever else he’s based.” He turns his gaze skyward for a moment. “However, I could be wrong; this is all mere speculation.”

“Yeah, speculation that could be correct,” Jung Heewon points out, eyes hard. “We’ll have to be extra careful when we pass through Kaizen. We can’t afford for the supreme king to recognise his highness. It’ll just make everything go to shit.”

Kim Dokja is about to open his mouth to say— he doesn’t actually know— when Han Sooyoung shouts over to them. “I’ve done it!”

The three of them turn over to her just as she gets close enough. She holds up a small stack of talisman paper and hands it out to them. To Hyunsung and Heewon, she hands out two each. To Kim Dokja, she hands eight. “Heewon-ie, Hyunsung-ah, put one on your chest and the other on your back. It’s a strong concealment charm so your vision might get hazy a bit but other than that you should be fine.”

When Hyunsung and Heewon nod and start putting the talismans on, she turns towards him. “Just put them everywhere.”

“Why do I need so many? I’m not even in demon form.”

Han Sooyoung snorts. “So? Even when you’re human your signature can be felt from miles away.” she points at the talismans in his hands. “These are the strongest illusionary cloaking talismans I’ve ever made in my life and you’ll still need to have your concealment dialled up the highest you can make them for these to even work.”

Kim Dokja scoffs. “It’s not that bad.”

“Not that bad? Dokja, when we met you weren't even half as powerful as you are today and I still nearly passed out.”

“I don’t…. remember that?”

“Because you never pay attention to anything. It took months for me to get anywhere near you without blood rushing out of my nose. And you were 15, too. I was so jealous.”

Huh. “Why do I recall none of this?”

“You ask me.” she heads over to where the kids are still on their horses and hands them their own talismans before putting on her own. Kim Dokja squints his eyes at the number of talismans in his palms once more before shrugging and putting them on every single free space on his body.

“What about the horses?” Shin Yoosung asks in the middle of arguing with Lee Gilyoung about…. something. “Won’t they alert the array too?”

“No, they won’t,” Kim Doja says. “These are special kinds of horses; magical ones, actually. They have special magical signatures which mean that no one apart from their owner can sense them, no matter what.”

Yoosung gapes. “That’s so cool.” She turns to Lee Gilyoung, who’s gaping nearly as hard as she is, and pokes him in the chest. “Why have we never known this?”

“I have, like, no idea,” he replies, and then turns to Kim Dokja. “How are they even made?”

Han Sooyoung hides a laugh behind a cough and suddenly both Lee Hyunsung and Jung Heewon are too busy looking at their horses and through their bags to tend to this impromptu science lesson. “Well, um, you know. The normal way horses make their foals. Just a little charmed.”

Shin Yoosung frowns. “How do horses make their foals then?”

“That’s a question for your tutors when we get back home. Now, can we please get going?”

When Yoo Joonghyuk was 8 years old, his father roped him into his very first duel. His father, in all the years he had been alive, had taken very little interest in him so when he’d called Yoo Joonghyuk into his study room that morning, he was ecstatic. 

It didn’t matter that he had never really practised sword fighting or any close or far combat with anyone before, or that the closest he had to holding a real sword were the wooden ones for the younger trainees of the kaizen army one of the guardsmen had let him touch once when he and his mother were walking through the capital. 

None of that mattered to him, then. 

In his mind, his father was showing true interest in him for the first time and he was more than eager to please. His mother was worried, of course she was, he was 8, but she was also bedridden and knew better than to try and question the duke so all she did when he told her excitedly was lay a freezing, trembling palm to his cheek and whisper in the broken, fractured croak her voice had turned to, “Do your best and be safe.”

He couldn’t train very well because there was no one around to help him apart from the sparingly few staff members scattered across the grounds of the manor who were permitted by the duke to talk to him and his mother, and all they did whenever he asked them was smile sympathetically and try their best to teach him the basics of sword fighting and he knows, even at 8, even through his excitement, that it won’t be enough, that it might never be enough, but he has hope and he tries. He tries so hard.

His opponent that day was twice his age, bulky, had a malicious glint in his eyes whenever he looked at Yoo Jonghyuk long enough, and was handpicked by the duke himself; his very own apprentice.

His father watched the fight, of course. He was sat on a high pedestal, his attendants shuffling nervously behind him as they watched, fear laced all around them for their young lord, for themselves, for the disaster of a duel they were subjected to.

Yoo Joonghyuk was nervous, rightfully so, his heart thumping loud against his ribcage, his palms sweaty as they gripped the handle of the sword his father had tossed carelessly in his hands that morning. A real metal sword. Not the wooden kinds that boys his age were given; a sharp sword, glinting against the harshness of the afternoon sun. 

When Yoo Joonghyuk saw it, he was happy. Surely this meant that his father trusted him, right? It had to have meant that he saw something in him. That’s what Yoo Joonghyuk believed.

(No one else seemed to have shared his enthusiasm.)

The fight commenced and at the start, he felt like he held his own well; every jab was parried, every thrust was evaded. There was a smile on his face at one point, and the boy, the man, the opponent opposite him, matched it. Only his smile was different to the one Yoo Joonghyuk had on; it was mean, had a wicked curl at the end of it and then his opponent’s sword jabbed a place on his shoulder, a leg struck his ankle, and suddenly, Yoo Joonghyuk realised with clarity the reality of what this ‘duel’ really was.

By the end of the fight, Yoo Joonghyuk was, for lack of a better word, beaten to a pulp.

There was blood on his fingers, his head, his arms, and his body ached in places he didn't even think possible and since he was 8, young, inexperienced, and hurt, he cried. He cried silently, quietly, fat hot tears rolling down his cheeks, mixing with the blood on his face and falling to the dour dusty ground in the courtyard of his father’s estate.

The same father who watched, unfeelingly, uninterestedly, as his only son nearly died at the hand of a man he trained himself. He stood up from his chair, the pedestal, and walked down to Yoo Joonghyuk. He stood above him and, for a moment, blocked the sunlight streaming directly into the boy’s eyes.

Then, the duke crouched down, right up until he was at eye level with Yoo Joonghyuk and said, “I don’t know what bastard sired a disgrace such as yourself, but I know it was not me. You are a failure. A weak, useless, failure, and it would do you and your whore of a mother good to never appear before my sight again.”

And then he stood and watched his son, limp, broken, on the ground and laughed and laughed and laughed so loud and boisterously that the sound etched itself into the writing of Yoo Joonghyuks brain, warped around his mind so tightly that it haunted him in his dreams, in the abyss of time after this pitiful excuse of a duel, in every day afterwards, even when Yoo Joonghyuk gets stronger, and more powerful, and less weak, and wins and cries and wins and beats every single fight afterwards, it’s still there.

As a reminder, a curse, a punishment. Either way, it’s still there.

He doesn’t know what to do about it and he doesn’t know how to stop it. He trains every day, works his body and mind to exhaustion each and every day so he doesn’t have to hear it, so he can look at himself and not feel 8 years old again, inexperienced, young, weak. So he can measure himself against the corpse of a man who never had much interest in him anyway. So his dreams don’t echo the torture of a laugh, the echo of a weak, useless, failure. 

It works most of the time.

Other times, it doesn’t.

Today is one of the other times.

He has a dummy in front of him, weathered and old from overuse, and his sword gripped tight in his palm. The sun is harsh against his back, droplets of sweat dripping down his forehead and into his eyes. He wipes away the blurriness with the back of his hand and closes his eyes.

He knows how to compartmentalise. He knows how to shove complex emotions into tidy boxes in the corner of his brain. Yoo Joonghyuk carries baggage with him, baggage so heavy that if he didn't have a way to minimise the loudness in him, he wouldn’t be the man he is today. Being in his own brain is painful; feeling every emotion inside of him in its entirety is torture. He feels too much, he thinks too loud, and he understands too little. He’s the commander of an army; all of these deficiencies don’t mix well with his responsibilities, his loyalties, his work.

Hence the compartmentalisation.

He’s done it for years. He knows how to reign himself in, how to focus on one thing at a time, how to shove away every unnecessary feeling. Every unnecessary thought. He knows how to do this. He should. He should know. But.

His brain is a mess.

Ever since….. ever since that…. encounter with that demon, his mind has refused to cooperate with him. He just doesn’t.

He doesn’t understand what's happened to him. He isn’t focused, his brain is more scrambled than it has been in years, and his father’s laugh is playing over and over in his head. He just wants everything to stop; his mind, his body. 

He just wants it to be over.

Yoo Joonghyuk opens his eyes, turns to face his army, and begins barking out orders.

“All of you,” he begins, and any side chatter happening seizes to an immediate halt, hundreds of eyes stuck on him. “We will be running through both non-magical and magical defences against demons. Winged demons in particular.”

A hand raises up timidly. “Didn’t we go over this last week?”

Yoo Joonghyuk’s eyes slide over to Na Bori and she visibly cowers. He sighs. “We did. We are going over it again. In more detail. Now pair up and pick a dummy to fight against. I expect everyone to be engaged. Yoo Sangah has set up posts that will be throwing different spells, charms and talismans at each of you sporadically while you fight. Try not to die.”

They all know better than to try and voice complaints at this impromptu training session, but Yoo Joonghyuk can see in their eyes that they’re all most likely cursing him to hell and back at this very moment.

There are a lot of things he’s wanted in the past; his father to pay attention to him, his mother to live past winter, his hands not to shake when he stared at himself in the mirror,  being able to live up to the expectations set for him, being able to be the kind of brother Mia deserved.

He’s wanted a lot of things in life and so he knows more than anyone that want means nothing. He doesn’t get to have what he wants. He never has. 

He takes a breath, holds it for a moment, and then releases it in a gust of foggy air. He turns his back to his army and towards the dummy. It’s changed form now, slipping from being human presenting to something else entirely. Slowly, the skin of the dummy changes to a deep blue, the eyes a harsh red. Two blue wings spring out from the back of it and ebony black horns sprout from the top of the faux demon’s head.

It grows larger and larger until the dummy has a pair of grotesque legs, hideous fangs, and claws the width of a branch. It’s so tall that the shadow it leaves behind Yoo Joonghyuk's body extends for several metres. This is the traditional image of a winged demon. Evil, ugly, and atrocious.

It looks so wrong.

Yoo Joonghyuk tries to shake away his discomfort and raise his sword but even as he’s fighting the now fully animated and irritating beast in front of him he’s still? So? Weirded out?

He’s been fighting demons for years, as well as a multitude of other beasts alike. He knows what a winged demon looks like whether it be leliurium, terrestrial, or aerial. Before today, he was fairly certain he could fight any kind of demon with his eyes closed.

And now he's faced with an actual visual representation of what a demon looks like, but it just seems so…. off? Logically, he knows this is what demons are supposed to look like but he keeps on making corrections in his head. 

Like…. the maniacal fixed snarl on the dummy’s face should be an infuriatingly cocky smirk; the wings on his back should be black, not blue, and bigger, wider, spanning across nearly the width of this courtyard; the dummy is too tall: it should be shorter, just about an inch or two shorter than Yoo Joonghyuk; Guwon doesn’t have any claws. His nails are talon-like but much smaller, sharp and dangerous, not beefy like these ones; the dummy’s eyes are too strident of a red, much different to the playful warmth of Guwon’s irises, a deep, sombre crimson; Guwon’s swipes and kicks and swipes and punches were playful and measured, and the dummy’s are brash, uncoordinated;

The dummy’s face is distorted and twisted and Guwon…. Guwon is—

Yoo Joonghyuk lets out a string of curses as a claw slashes through his thigh, a heavy stream of blood stemming from it in rivulets. The commotion of his soldiers fighting seizes momentarily until he barks out, “Continue!”

He throws a stasis charm at the dummy and it freezes, a clawed hand aimed mid-strike at Yoo Joonghyuk’s neck. He’s stupid. He’s so fucking stupid. He was so distracted thinking about…. about that and now he’s possibly humiliated himself in front of hundreds of people who look up to him. Christ.

“Fuck,” he hisses, his hand pressing down on the wound on his leg as he walks(limps) away from the training courtyard and towards one of the water basins. He sits down near the porcelain and just as he’s about to reach for one of the wet cloths to tie off his wound, a hand clamps around his wrist.

“Absolutely not.”

Yoo Joonghyuk glances up and then glowers. “What do you want.” 

Lee Seolwha doesn’t let go of him. Instead, she tightens her grip and flashes him a grin. “Your grace, do you want to give yourself an infection?”

When he doesn’t answer her, Lee Seolwha’s expression changes from amused and concerned to very amused and exasperated. “I will not allow you to shame my skills as a doctor by trying to use a dirty washcloth to clean your wounds. Now please allow me to escort you to the infirmary and tend to you the proper way.”

“There is no need,” Yoo Joonghyuk replies but he already knows this is a losing battle because before he’s even finished his sentence, Lee Seolwha flags down a passing guard and teleports them to the infirmary without so much a faze in her expression. “Lee Seolwha,” he growls.

The doctor pays him no mind. She turns to her work table and begins gathering her supplies. “There is plenty need, your grace. Don’t think I didn’t see how deep that claw went through. Really, it’s a wonder why you even use such monsters for training, your grace. It’s going to get someone killed someday!”

“Do not speak such into existence,” he snaps and then adds, “Mind your business,” belatedly like a fool.

Lee Seolwha grins at him and then holds up a vial of clear liquid to his face. “Do you see this?”

“It’s kind of hard not to,” he says dryly.

Lee Seolwha rolls her eyes. “It’s a new anti-bacterial disinfectant I’ve been developing. It’s marvellous work, really. I’ll add on a healing drought as well and then your leg will be as good as new in just a few minutes.”

“Whatever you have to do just do it, Seolwha-ssi. I don’t need a play-by-play on the healing process.”

Lee Seolwha frowns at him, but it’s the kind of frown that looks like she’s trying her very hardest not to burst out laughing in his face. He hates that frown. “Did you wake up on the wrong side of the bed today, your grace?”

Yoo Joonghyuk scowls. “No.”

“Are you sure?”

“Seolwha.”

She laughs at him unkindly but leads him to sit down in one of the cots so she can start working on the wound on his thigh that’s now sluggish bleeding. Lee Seolwha is blessedly silent for the entire time it takes for her to dress his wound and Yoo Joonghyuk thinks, foolishly, that he’ll be able to leave this room stress-free until—

“Do you want to tell me what got you so stuck in your head? I don’t think I’ve ever seen you slip up in a fight for as long as I’ve known you.”

“I didn’t…. slip up,” Yoo Joonghyuk says but even he sounds uncertain. Lee Seolwha raises an eyebrow.

“Is that so.”

Yoo Joonghyuk runs a hand over the freshly wrapped gauze and blows out a breath. “It’s nothing.”

Lee Seolwha stares at him for a moment. Then she raps her fingers against his temple, hard. “It’s not nothing. It’s actually the opposite of nothing. But I'll hold off the interrogation until you’re ready to tell me. I doubt Sangah-ssi will be as understanding, however. Especially when she hears of this.” She lightly taps the wound on his leg before setting down his sword next to him on the cot. 

She always briefly confiscates it whenever he has the misfortune of being here for an injury so he doesn't try to run away, which, really, is quite unfair. That only happened one time.

Yoo Joonghyuk looks at her and nods. “Okay. Thank you. For the….. um gauze.” and for being a friend.

Lee Seolwha grins at him like she knows exactly what he’s leaving out. “It is my job, Your grace. You just seem to keep on forgetting that.”

Yoo Joonghyuk opens his mouth to respond but gets cut off by someone hastily knocking on the closed door of the infirmary before it’s hastily thrown open. Na Bori’s wide eyes and harried appearance stare at them.

“Your grace!” she hurries out, giving a hasty bow. “There are people approaching the estate!”

Lee Seolwha whips her head over to him and raises both eyebrows. “None of the alarms have gone off. Yoo Sangah would have mentioned if someone passed through the wards.”

Yoo Joonghyuk stands up and grabs his sword. “I know. I didn’t feel anything either.” He turns to Na Bori. “How close are they?”

“Not too far away, your grace,” she says, wringing her hands together. “There seem to be 6 people. All on horseback. The distance is too big to see if there are any weapons amongst them.”

Yoo Joonghyuk turns to walk out of the infirmary, both Lee Seolwha and Na Bori hot on his trail. “And none of them set off the arrays?”

He stops and turns to Na Bori. She straightens up and looks towards one of the hallways before sighing. “No, they did not. I only know this because Sangah-unnie called me out from the training courtyard to inform you. She said you should meet her by the front of the fort.”

That is not possible. The king’s sorcerers are the ones who crafted all the arrays around the fort; no one can cross any of them without it alerting Yoo Joonghyuk, Yoo Mia, or Yoo Sangah. This shouldn’t be happening.

Yoo Joonghyuk grits his teeth and says, “Have everyone start preparing themselves for a possible ambush. The courtyard should be evacuated of every staff ill-equipped to fight. Everyone should be in their lines and formations. If you hear the gong strike, do not hesitate. Do you understand?”

Na Bori nods stiffly and then hurries away in the direction of the courtyard. Yoo Joonghyuk turns to Lee Seolwha. “The shipments arrived alright yesterday?”

She nods and squeezes his forearm briefly. “I’m well-stocked for any injury whatsoever. The doors to the living quarters are already warded off and I’ll have it so that Mia is protected. Go and figure out what’s going on, your grace.”

Yoo Joonghyuk inclines his head shortly in gratitude before he walks away, his skin itchy with anticipation. In the 5 years that Yoo Joonghyuk has been the Chief General of the imperial army, and been subsequently posted at the army estate just by the border of Kaizen, this has never happened before.

When he was delegated here, he made the specific request to the king up the wards in the Unseen, so he’d always know whenever anyone was approaching the border of Kaizen. So he could be prepared for any possible ambush or negotiation or threat. In all the years it has been set in place, not once has it failed Yoo Joonghyuk.

Until now.

Yoo Joonghyuk has checked over those wards multiple times. They are among the strongest in all of Kaizen. Flawless. Unbreakable, even. No one can just pass through them without it informing him.

What the hell is happening?

“Supreme King,” Yoo Sangah says, the second he rounds up to the front of the fort, just behind the obsidian gates. He raises an eyebrow at the title but nods at her to continue. “The people approaching were spotted by one of the maids on the balcony not too long ago. All of the mages in the tower have tried to use locator spells to see their faces, but it’s all coming up blank. It’s as if there’s a blur on all of their faces. We can’t see anything at all. All we know is that at least two of them have no magical signatures.”

Yoo Joonghyuk’s surprise just keeps getting bigger and bigger. “That’s all we know?”

Yoo Sangah nods grimly. “Whatever illusion or cloak they have on is strong, much stronger than what I or any of the other mages have seen before.”

Yoo Joonghyuk is not the most proficient in magic, nor is he as sensitive to it as most of the mages stationed at the estate, but he knows the skills of almost all of them. If even they cannot figure out what’s going on….. 

He doesn’t like this one bit.

“I’ll intercept them,” Yoo Joonghyuk says finally, after a bout of strained silence. Yoo Sangah stares at him resigned, as if she already knew what he was going to say. “Before they can approach, I’ll intercept them, and if they seem to be a threat, I’ll send a talisman over to you to prepare accordingly. They might just be people trying to get through Kaizen.”

“What fool do you know would willingly pass through the Unseen to get through Kaizen? There are other entrances. Such as passing through the official border. This fortress is isolated for a reason.” Yoo Sangah then directs her unimpressed look to his leg and some part of her seems to soften.

“It’s fine,” he stresses, rolling his shoulders. He flexes his leg in front of her. “I’m not limping at all. Are the—”

“All mages have been stationed at different areas, yes.”

“Can you—”

“I’ve already increased the wards on every entrance to the estate. No one is going in or out.”

“The ser—”

“All of the servants have been accounted for and are safe in the dungeons below.” Yoo Sangah runs a hand down her trousers calmly. “I do remember how to do my job, your grace. Start going. It won’t be long before our guests reach the gate if you spend any more time dawdling.”

Yoo Joonghyuk bristles at her tone and then uses the hilt of his sword to poke her in the forehead, like the respectable adult that he is, and turns again to ask, “My horse—”

“Is right here,” Yoo Sangah says, and before Yoo Joonghyuk can snap at her, a bridle is placed in his palm and he and his horse are both unceremoniously pushed out of the gate. He hears the tell-tale whoosh as the heavy wards are put up again.

Yoo Joonghyuk mounts his horse and decides, out of respect for himself, that he is not going to react or respond to the rudeness Yoo Sangah continues to dish out to him the longer he spends in her presence. He trots his horse along north and in the far distance, he sees whatever that maid saw first; 6 people, all on horseback. He can’t see any faces, or any weapons. All he can parse out are 6 figures on 6 horses.

Yoo Joonghyuk’s insides churn uncomfortably, and he unsheathes his sword one-handed while he directs his horse to move faster in the direction of the intruders in front of him. Slowly, he approaches, and he sees the exact moment that the group in front of him notice him, their movement slowing down slightly.

Yoo Joonghyuk is close enough now that he can somehow make out some features of the group. There seem to be two men and two women and two…. Children. Two kids. There are two kids. He blinks, but the image in front of him does not shift. He may not be able to see any faces but he can tell that those are kids among the rest of the adults.

They may just be travelling through Kaizen, after all. Surely no assailant seeking to attack the fortress would do so with children.

At least that’s what he thinks until his eyes pass over the rest of the group and they snag on one man in particular. The glamour that they have on shifts just slightly and Yoo Joonghyuk stares and stares, until this person, this man, becomes startingly more and more familiar and he can see black hair and fair skin and dark brown eyes that should be crimson, glinting, deep crimson and—

“Guwon?”

We can’t afford for the supreme king to recognise his highness, Jung Heewon had said earlier. It’ll just make everything go to shit.

Why. Why why why.

Kim Dokja feels all the stares of his companions drift and stick to him like honeysuckle, but he can’t see them, not even if he tried.

Yoo Joonghyuk is standing opposite him, looking as wide-eyed and surprised as Kim Dokja feels, and Kim dokja can’t. Think. Or breathe. He can’t.

Kim Dokja blinks rapidly, trying his best to dispel the image in front of him, trying and trying. Predictably, this does not work.

How the hell is this even happening right now?!

Kim Dokja has known, he has, that his luck is shit. Absolute fucking cow shit, but this just has to be fucking ridiculous.

He’s already had the wonderful misfortune of being in this situation just mere hours ago, except then he was alone and had the benefit of being a shameless liar with him, but now, his party is with him, he’s not in demon form which shouldn’t be possible considering most—all— demons can’t interchange between being human and being supernatural, and Yoo Joonghyuk is staring at him like he’s expecting this to all be a hallucination he can spell himself awake from.

If only.

And not to mention that Kim Dokja doesn’t even understand how Yoo Joonghyuk can even see him. Because Han Sooyoung, for all he shits on her and makes fun of her, has to be one of the most powerful witches on the planet. There’s a reason why Persephone and Hades keep her around him, and not just because they’re friends.

All of Han Sooyoung’s talismans have the combined powers of thousands of other mages. If she makes a binding talisman, no one will be able to escape from it, magical or not. If she makes a cloaking talisman, no one will be able to see her.

Yoo Joonghyuk is strong, very very strong, but when it comes to magic? Han Sooyoung is undoubtedly stronger. He has multiple powerful cloaking, illusionary, concealement, charms on his body. No eye, trained or untrained should be able to see what his face looks like right now. And yet.

Yet, Yoo Joonghyuk is staring him right in his eye, like he knows exactly who he is.

Which then reiterates his question of what the hell is happening right now?!

Yoo Joonghyuk’s eye twitches, and he feels Han Sooyoung’s leg kick him in the back. Ah, he might have accidentally said that out loud. Whoops.

Kim Dokja throws his throat. “I— I mean, who— you are, sir?”

Lee Hyunsung winces. Christ.

Yoo Joonghyuk somehow looks both unimpressed and surprised even as his expression doesn’t change one bit. “I know it’s you.”

The man’s eyes are just the slightest bit incredulous and the sun shine on it just so, highlighting on his jaw, his lips, the curve of his cheek. Kim Dokja’s mouth goes dry. His voice is still so— focus!

Kim Dokja panics and when he panics, his mouth develops a mind of it’s own. “What? What are you— ah, um, talking about? Never met or seen you before, that’s for sure. Maybe you’re confusing me for someone else?”

Kim Dokja runs a hand down the back of his neck in an attempt to look nonchalant. It doesn’t seem to be working. Jung Heewon has her head in her hands, and he can make out Shin Yoosung and Lee Gilyoung snickering from behind him.

Yoo Joonghyuk’s fingers flex around his sword and he raises a perfectly groomed eyebrow at him. Kim Dokja’s neck flames.

“Guwon,” he repeats and the way his voice wraps around the syllables of the name ridiculously has Kim dokja feeling a tad bit breathless. “What are you doing here?”

“Travelling,” Kim Dokja says, and then remembers he’s supposed to be putting on a charade and adds, “That’s not me! By the way…”

“Travelling,” he repeats slowly, like Kim Dokja is expceptionally slow. “Through the Unseen?”

“It’s an easy route,” Kim Dokja says, which is a lie.

Yoo Joonghyuk doesn’t bother replying to his lie. “How did you all manage to pass through the arrays?”

Kim Dokja blinks. “Were those set up by you?”

Yoo Joonghyuk glares. “How.”

Han Sooyoung seems to finally break her vow of silence because she snaps, “I don’t think that’s any of your business.”

Yoo Joonghyuk’s eyes stray away from Kim Dokja’s for the first time and his glower increases by tenfold. Han Sooyoung matches it perfectly. “It is my business, actually. Its the business of the king and the business of Kaizen. So I ask again, how exactly did all 6 of you pass through 5 of our best wards without it signalling anyone?”

Han Sooyoung crosses her arms and she looks pissed, but the amused kind of pissed. “Talismans. Charms. Spellwork. Take your fucking pick, asshole.”

Kim Dokja sees the exact second that Yoo Joonghyuk’s patience snaps and he’s off his horse and hurrying over to his side just as the supreme king’s sword directs itself just under Han Sooyoung’s chin.

The reaction is immediate. Lee Hyunsung and Jung Heewon have their swords drawn up, the kids’ crossbows are aiming themselves menacingly at Yoo Joonghyuk's forehead, Han Sooyoung’s spear is in hear hand instantaneously, and Kim Dokja’s headache increases tenfold.

“Okay!” Kim Dokja shouts, pouring forced cheer into his voice. 6 pairs of eyes turn to glare at him. “Everyone! Please! Put away the weapons! We are not in battle. Please be civil!”

No one listens to him. Obviously.

Kim Dokja doesn’t know what possesses him, but it must be something eager for his downfall, because one second his arms are by his side, and in the next, his hand has wrapped itself onto Yoo Joonghyuk’s wrist in a vice-like grip.

Yoo Joonghyuk looks at Kim Dokja, and then the hand around his wrist. His face doesn’t change one bit, but Kim dokja still feels irrational fear curl around his loins. Still, Yoo Joonghyuk doesn’t shake him off like a dog, and Kim dokja is inclined to keep his dignity. He doesn’t let go.

“Supreme King,” he starts, the same fake joviality in his tone. “It would be nice if you didn’t decapitate one of my companions right in front of me. Have some shame!”

Slowly, he directs Yoo Joonghyuk’s sword away from Han Sooyoung’s neck, until the tip of the weapon faces the ground.

“Who are you to talk about shame?”

Kim Dokja finds a grin climbing up his face despite himself. “Well, between the two of us, Joonhyuk-ssi, I would believe you’re the shameless one,” he says, somehow finding himself comfortable enough to rest his other hand on the mane of Yoo Joonghyuk’s horse. “Rude, too. Your flaws have no end, it seems.”

Yoo Joonghyuks lips curl, just so. “Impertinent,” he hisses, but he doesn’t sound very harsh, not as harsh as he should sound in the face of Kim Dokja’s…. everything.

“Impertinent?” Kim Dokja repeats. “I like that. The word, I mean. Impertinent. Describes me well, I suppose. It looks like you’ve caught me, Joonghyuk-ah.”

“I’ve caught you?” Yoo Joonghyuk’s jewelled eyes have a certain glint to them, shimmering on the edge of something Kim Dokja can’t describe.

Kim Dokja stares, tilts his head to the side, and smirks. “Straight on.”

Then there’s a loud cough, and a sound of someone saying, “There’s nothing straight about this….” and Kim Dokja is then snapped back into reality. Yoo Joonghyuk's eyes widen, like he’s slipping out of it too, and it’s only when he leans back that Kim Dokja realises just how close their faces had been before.

Kim Dokja blinks rapidly and slowly, oh so slowly, turns to face his companions, who are all staring at him with varying levels of incredulity.

He clears his throat and takes two big steps away from both Yoo Joonghyuk and his horse. His fingers curl into themselves, trying to chase the warmth of the loss of contact, and he swears that he sees Yoo Joonghyuk staring at his wrist for a millisecond as well, as if thinking the same thing.

“So,” Jung Heewon drawls and she looks so unimpressed that he nearly cries. “Guwon, it seems as though you’ve forgotten to introduce us to your…. friend here.”

“Not my, ah, friend,” he says uselessly.

Han Sooyiung smirks, her previous anger completely lost. “Is that so?”

Kim Dokja opens his mouth to respond, but Lee Gilyoung cuts him off. “Wait, if hyung’s friend’s with this bastard does that mean we can’t kill him anymore?”

“Gilyoung!”

Lee Gilyoung startles. “What? What did I say?”

Kim Dokja exaggerates a frown and rolls his eyes. “Don’t call him a bastard. That’s rude of you!”

“But you’ve called the supreme king a bastard too, haven’t you?” Shin Yoosung asks (not so) innocently.

“That, that is completely not true,” Kim Dokja says with just a tiny bit of amusement in his tone. He directs to Yoo Joonghyuk, “I’d only call you a bastard to your face, y’know.”

Yoo Joonghyuk opens his mouth, but Kim Dokja will never hear what he has to say because Jung Heewon cuts in. “Please! Before the two of you start flirting again, I need a question to be answered by you, Supreme King.”

If Kim Dokja hadn’t been looking as intensely as he had since Yoo Joonghyuk’s presence made himself known, he’d probably have missed the shell of the man’s ear turning light pink. But, alas, he has been staring intensely, and now his brain has been turned to mush indefinitely.

“Speak if you must,” he says to Jung Heewon stoicly.

Jung Heewon doesn’t roll her eyes and insult him to his face, but it looks like she wants to. “Since it’s obvious that your grace and our companion have a friendship, our party passing through your….. dwelling won’t be a problem, will it?”

Yoo Joonghyuk glances at him. Then he looks back at Jung Heewon. “If you can provide an acceptable explanation as to how your party were able to bypass the kingdom’s wards, then yes. You may be able to pass through my estate to the capital.”

Kim Dokja is sure his jaw has probably hit the snow beneath them. That seems so? Reasonable? He thought that Yoo Joonghyuk would attempt to keep them prisoner for a few weeks, at least.

Jung Heewon’s face doesn’t so much as twitch. If she’s even half as surprised as he is, she doesn’t let it show. She nods. “Ask away, then.”

“Not here,” Yoo Joonghyuk says. “Follow me to the fortress. It’s just a few miles from here. We’ll speak there.”

His companions look at each other, and there’s a distinct feeling of discomfort going through them all. Lee Hyunsung exchanges a meaningful glance with Kim Dokja. Are you sure? It seems to ask. Do you trust him enough?

Kim Dokja steps closer to Yoo Joonghyuk and he lowers his voice until he’s sure no one else can hear them.

“Yoo Joonghyuk,” he says, and his voice is more devoid of emotion than he thought it would be. “I will only allow this if you give me your word right now. If my companions are to follow you to this fortress of yours, no harm will come to them. You know what powers I possess, but I am so much more capable than what I showed you. Their safety is paramount to me, and if they are injured in any way by either you are any of your people, I will not hesitate to exact my revenge.”

Unlike earlier with Lee Jiyhe and Kim Namwoon, he deliberately lets parts of his concealment drop, small floods of power dripping off his body in waves. Yoo Joonghyuk, to his credit, doesn’t so much as twitch. His expression doesn’t change from that bland monotone he always has on. If not for the way Kim Dokja can see his fingers trembling just so, he would be inclined to believe his power had no effect on the man at all

He extends one arm towards Yoo Joonghyuk. “I am choosing to trust you on this, Joonghyuk-ah. For both of our sakes, do not let me down.”

Yoo Joonghyuk clasps his calloused hand in his, and, without breaking eye contact, he says. “I will do nothing to break your trust. You have my word on this, if nothing else.”

And maybe it’s the way he says it, all deep, scorching sincerity and reverence, or maybe it’s the order of his words, the hidden layer of something on his face, the firm grip he has on Kim Dokja’s hand, the curl of his fingers around Dokja’s own, the charged air around them, in between them, the spark and pop and fizzle that surrounds all of their interactions.

Maybe it’s all of that. Maybe it’s none of that. But either way, Kim Dokja believes him. He hasn’t known this man for a full day, but he believes him. He trusts him, trusts him like he’s known him for years instead of hours.

And It shouldn’t be enough, it shouldn’t; this is uncharted territory he’s leading his companions into. He doesn’t know Yoo Joonghyuk, not enough, and yet. It shouldn’t be enough, but it is.

“Okay.” Kim Dokja steps back and away, their hands falling away from each other. Yoo Joonghyuk’s eyes are trained to him like a hawk. Kim Dokja mounts his horse, wraps his hands tight around the bridle. “Lead the way then.”

There’s a beat, just a small one, where it looks like Yoo Joonghyuk is going to add something extra, something more, but then it passes and Yoo Joonghyuk turns his horse in the direction he first approached them from.

“Very well.”

Kim Dokja moves and he doesn’t have to look at his companions to know that they’re following him, that they’ll always follow him.

He just hopes that this time he won’t lead them astray.