Chapter Text
The birds chirped as Seonghwa blearily opened his eyes. The faces of one disgruntled-looking Wooyoung and serene Yeosang filled his vision from the plush softness of the mattress.
“So,” Wooyoung’s eyebrows scrunched, and Seonghwa’s head throbbed, “How was last night?”
Seonghwa groaned, burying his head further into the pillows to escape the inevitable nagging he was sure to receive. His hangover made the inside of his head feel like a hundred elephants were stomping around in a conga line. Memories from the previous night flashed behind his eyelids like a stop-motion film of bad decisions and new found revelations.
Jongho who had brought him back home in the middle of the night. The cowboy and his friend Mingi who both happened to know Yunho.
Yunho! Yunho who had told him he knew about…everything!
Seonghwa’s head pounded but deeper than the dull pounding in his mind was an anchor that sat heavy in his stomach. A slow, gnawing guilt that made his stomach churn with the late night snacks he had enjoyed hours before. His heart beat out of rhythm, a slightly off tempo that waited for any onlooker to point out its missteps for all to see.
“Ya!” Wooyoung screeched, clawing his fingers onto Seonghwa’s shoulder and pulling repeatedly, "Park Seonghwa! Do you know how worried Sangie and I were? Sangie kept saying the wolves were restless and then Jongho brought you home shit-faced as fuck not knowing down from up talking about some baby angel cowboy!”
With a muffled whine, Seonghwa peeked out from under the pillows, squinting against the daylight streaming through a crack in the curtains. “I’m sorry,” he muttered, his words slurred together, tinged with more weight than he wanted them too. “I’m sorry I stormed out and disappeared.” Wrapping his arms around his brothers, he continued, “I’m sorry I reacted how I did. And Yunho-ssi was right, I’m scared of losing you, both of you.”
That much was true.
But it isn’t the whole truth, his conscience reminded.
A flicker of something — sadness? — passed through Yeosang’s eyes. Just for a moment, but it was enough to make the heavy weight in Seonghwa’s stomach twist and burrow deeper into his gut.
He loosened his hold to look clearly at his brothers. They were no longer the scared little kids who had just moved into town with no parents or friends. They were older now and they weren’t alone any more. They had Yunho and Jongho and each other; and Seonghwa hoped what their great aunts had taught them would be enough for whatever the future would bring them. He didn’t want to burden them even more than they already were. Seonghwa would tell them the truth, all of it, as soon as they vanquished the vampire.
“Fine.” Seonghwa was pulled out of his thoughts as Wooyoung melted back into the hug. “But you are no longer allowed to drink at The Seven Seas unsupervised.”
Yeosang’s calm demeanor remained as he stayed squished between his brothers, but the concern in his gaze was evident; Seonghwa tried not to meet his eyes. “We were worried, hyung. You were…well, not exactly in the best shape.”
For a second, the moment stretched. Seonghwa could feel Yeosang’s gaze, steady and unreadable as ever before. Not demanding. Not accusing, just watching with his impenetrable eyes…waiting.
He knows. Humorlessly, Seonghwa was reminded of family game nights, where Yeosang always ended victorious by the end of Mafia for his stellar poker face.
“I didn’t think I had been out too long,” Seonghwa protested weakly, forcing a laugh as he rubbed his temples. “I just… lost track of time. And drinks. A lot of drinks.” He tried to let go of their embrace, to make his voice light and normal as he sat up on his own, but the room spun slightly, and he flopped back down with a groan.
“Clearly,” Wooyoung said, crossing his arms, though his expression softened. “You should know better than to let Yunho mix drinks.”
“Yeah, but I finally got to join in!” Seonghwa replied, a sheepish grin creeping onto his face. “We were playing Pabo, and I was the king!”
Wooyoung rolled his eyes but couldn’t suppress a smile. “King of what, exactly? Making us worry all night?”
“More like king of fun!” Seonghwa retorted sticking his tongue out childishly, his spirits lifting slightly despite the pounding in his head.
Yeosang chuckled softly, shaking his head. “Let us focus on getting you better first. You look like you have been through a war zone.”
“Thanks, Sangie,” Seonghwa muttered, feeling the warmth of embarrassment rise in his cheeks. “Can we just have a moment of silence for my poor head?”
“Silence? In this house?” Wooyoung scoffed playfully. “Not a chance. You owe us some details about your wild night!”
Seonghwa sighed dramatically, but the corners of his mouth twitched upward. “Fine, but only if you promise to make me something to eat. I need… carbs. And water.”
“Deal!” Wooyoung exclaimed, hopping off the bed with renewed energy. “I’ll whip up a breakfast feast. You’ll be our shining star in no time!”
As Wooyoung bustled off to the kitchen, Seonghwa turned to Yeosang, who was still watching him with that patient expression of his.
“Did I worry you guys that much?” Seonghwa prodded.
“Of course,” Yeosang replied, his voice gentle. “Just because you are older does not mean we do not worry for you.”
Seonghwa’s intuition continued buzzing in his mind like a pesky fly, He knows. Maybe not everything, but he knows enough. Enough to sense the unease coiling in Seonghwa’s chest. “What about the potions brewing?” Seonghwa asked, he wasn’t entirely convinced that all had been well in the Park Estate the previous night. Though the wards had not gone off even in his inebriated state, Seonghwa still worried about the unwanted guest. He hoped his voice didn’t waiver. Trying to keep it casual, like a big brother just checking in. Practical. But Yeosang’s silence was a fraction too long, sending silent warnings throughout Seonghwa’s hungover mind.
“The vervain needs to finish bubbling, but it should be ready by tonight.” Yeosang finally confided. His tone was even, but his eyes lingered on Seonghwa’s face. “Then it will only be a matter of luring Chung Sang-jun back home. Though that will not be much of a challenge.”
Seonghwa nodded, head throbbing at the movement and gut clenching anew. It was ridiculous, really — how someone as soft-spoken as Yeosang could feel so loud without saying much. Taking mercy on him, Yeosang procured a mug out of thin air. “Here,” he said, handing the cup to the older one. “It will cure your hangover.”
The hand-off was brief but long enough for Seonghwa to feel how steady Yeosang was. Grounded. Present. Which only made Seonghwa more aware of the storm building inside his gut.
Did he know? Or am I projecting?
Readjusted the blankets, Seonghwa sat up and gulped the mug. His face scrunched in disgust; instantly regretting his blind faith in the younger.
“That tastes terrible, Sangie!”
“I know.” Yeosang countered.
“Thanks,” Seonghwa deadpanned as he finally felt more like himself, even if it was at the expense of his taste buds.
“Breakfast is ready!” Wooyoung called from the kitchen.
The two followed the rich, savory smell as hints of earthy beef broth, boiled cabbage, and salty gulfweed filled the air. And as they walked down the old familiar hallway, Seonghwa couldn’t help but let himself hope — for just a moment — that things could stay like this. That warmth, and worry, and bickering with his brothers could be enough to keep the curse at bay. He was sure they could defeat the stalker vampire but deep down, he knew: the truth was coming for him, whether he was ready to speak it or not.
A wave of nausea coursed through Seonghwa at such a revelation sending his mind reeling. First, he needed to survive his hangover. Wooyoung stood proudly by a giant pot, as three bowls of hangover soup and sides of kimchi and bean sprouts were neatly arranged on the kitchen island.
“Thank you,” Seonghwa said as he gratefully sat on the nearest kitchen stool and began to feast on his bowl. Halfway through his second serving, the estate’s wards started to hum.
Someone is coming.
Seonghwa had enough time to put down his bowl before the kitchen door swung open, and Jongho stepped in, concern clear as day. “Hey, something…” He trailed off, noticing the three of them sat around the kitchen island, their bowls filled to varying portions. “Am I interrupting?”
“Not at all,” Wooyoung said, glancing up from his half-finished bowl. “You’re just in time for breakfast.”
“Sannie-hyung sent me,” Jongho replied, his voice low. Wooyoung looked down at the mention of the village headman. Jongho continued, “He heard from one of the other shopkeepers that there was a break-in at your place last night.”
Seonghwa’s eyes widened, any remnants of his hangover momentarily forgotten. “What? Are you serious?”
Jongho nodded, his expression grave. “Yeah. You all need to head over there and check the damage.”
“We should go now,” Yeosang said, sitting up straighter. “The sooner we get there, the better.”
Woo, could it have been Sang-jun? Seonghwa’s mind reeled at the implications of how the vampire knew about the shop.
But what could he want with the shop? Wooyoung was just as confused.
Perhaps he thought we would brew there? Yeosang silently offered.
Jongho stared in silence at the three brothers as they continued their conversation. Several years with the Park brothers had made Jongho practically immune to their moments of telepathic conversation. Instead, he walked towards the warm pot of stew and served himself a bowl before taking his place beside Yeosang and helping himself to the side dishes spread across the kitchen island.
Why in the sun and moon would anyone conjure where they work? Seonghwa demanded.
I am to assume this Sang-jun type wasn’t the brightest star in the sky? Yeosang side-eyed toward Wooyoung for confirmation.
See! Even more reason why he gives me the ick! Wooyoung stabbed at his kimchi.
The sound of a throat clearing caused the brothers to turn to Jongho, who sat staring back at them from his now empty bowl, placing his spoon down, “We should hurry into town.”
Seonghwa sat up, “You're right. We need to assess the damage. Jongho, can you drive us?”
Jongho looked sheepishly around the table before mumbling to himself.
“What?” Wooyoung questioned, leaning closer to hear better.
Jongho let out a long-suffering sigh as he rolled his eyes.
“He ran here,” Yeosang stated, untroubled by the baffled look Jongho sent him.
A moment of silence fell across the kitchen before Wooyoung let out a screech of laughter, falling face-first out of his chair. Confused, Seonghwa asked, “How did you get here so quickly?” The wards had warned of an incoming guest but it had taken only a minute for Jongho to reach the kitchen back door.
Jongho sighed again, his face a mixture of frustration and embarrassment. He stood up from the table, pushing his chair back with a scrape. "You guys always forget," he muttered, rubbing the back of his neck as it flushed several shades of red, "I'm not just some guy you can casually walk past."
Before Jongho could respond, Wooyoung, still lying on the floor and clutching his stomach from laughter, managed to get out a breathless sentence: "Wait! Wait! You mean you ran all the way here?!"
Seonghwa's brow furrowed in confusion. "What does that mean? Are you saying you—?"
“Wait,” Picking himself off the floor Wooyoung clutched at his sides as he crawled back up his chair, “Last night, you brought Hwa back with my car. How did you get back to The Seven Seas after?”
Yeosang nodded encouragingly, “I waved farewell from the porch as he set off last night.”
Jongho’s eyes softened towards Yeosang before they narrowed at a bewildered Seonghwa and cackling Wooyoung. He crossed his arms over his chest. "I’m not gonna stand around and wait for someone to drive me when there’s a catastrophe happening," he said, his tone a mix of indignation and pride. "Besides, running is faster than waiting for a car anyway."
Seonghwa, finally piecing it together, shook his head in disbelief. "You ran here... from the outskirts of town?"
Jongho gave a small, uncomfortable nod, but then quickly added, "It’s not a big deal. I do it all the time."
Wooyoung, who had finally managed to sit up, raised his hand as if he were still processing the absurdity of it all. "You can’t act like it’s a normal thing to be running around in the woods, especially in the middle of the night; Sangie stop enabling him."
Yeosang, who had been silently supporting Jongho’s outlandish claims, stared owlishly back at Wooyoung.
"I’m fine," Jongho grumbled, already moving toward the door, Yeosang in tow. "Let’s just go. We’re wasting time."
Seonghwa caught up to him quickly, a worried look on his face. "Still, Jongho… you shouldn’t push yourself like that. You’re not invincible."
"Not invincible," Jongho muttered under his breath, but his eyes softened for a split second as he gave the brothers a tight-lipped smile. "Just fast."
Wooyoung guffawed as he scrambled to his feet and followed them toward the door, still giggling under his breath. "Jongho the human rocket," he teased.
Jongho didn’t acknowledge him as he chose to walk slightly ahead with Yeosang. "We have bigger things to worry about. The shop needs us now."
The quartet moved out of the house into the cool morning air, the remnants of their breakfast forgotten, the weight of whatever lay ahead heavy on their minds. But as they walked toward the Cadillac, Wooyoung’s laughter slowly died down, and the seriousness of the situation settled in. The stakes had suddenly risen, and they needed to confront whatever had invaded the shop the night before.
Arriving back into town was much the same if one could ignore the increase in whispers and stares from the townspeople. The atmosphere was thick with speculation, and the old women gathered near Baek’s general store were no exception.
“What could they have possibly done?” One of the grandmothers muttered, adjusting her shawl and squinting at the damage to the storefront, her voice full of concern.
“It was the devil, I tell you,” another woman hissed, her hands pressed to her chest as if warding off an unseen evil. “A demon in human form came to take them.”
“No, no,” a third woman countered sharply, waving a hand as if brushing away the thought. “It wasn’t the devil. It was a bad ex—nothing more than a scorned lover. You should’ve heard him shouting down the street, shouting names, and causing a scene. My granddaughter heard it all from her flat above her bakery.”
“I’m sure it was that youngest Park, you know,” the first woman agreed, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper as she tilted her head toward the shop’s broken windows. “Always fast. Always too popular, and always with more attention than he deserves. That one was trouble from the start, confrontational eyes.”
“Is that the one who’s enslaved the village headman under his spell?” another woman asked, her voice tinged with suspicion. She looked around as if expecting him to walk out from behind the corner at any moment.
Seonghwa couldn’t stop the laugh that bubbled from his chest. He had heard all the rumors about Wooyoung — especially the ones from the past — but nothing that would justify something as drastic as breaking into a family business.
The conversation between the old women continued, their voices lowering as they cast furtive glances toward the Park brothers making their way to their shop.
The wreckage of the Park’s botanical and nursery was unmistakable now: the shutters hung crooked, one of the windows was shattered completely, the glass still glittering like dangerous confetti on the cobblestones below. There were scorch marks near the door frame—dark, curling stains that looked almost like burns—and the scent of something sulfuric hung in the air, sharp and unsettling.
As Seonghwa walked closer, his gaze swept over the damage, the growing weight of the situation sinking in. This wasn’t the work of some petty thief or a spurned lover. It was deliberate. And the look in the townspeople's eyes said it all—they all knew something unnatural had taken place. Yeosang’s question didn’t need a response, the unspoken reality still left a heavy weight all the same. Someone — something — had left their mark, and it was clear this wasn’t a simple break-in. The door was battered as though someone had hammered it with enough force to leave dents in the wood, and the faintest trace of blood stained the stoop, barely visible under the debris.
Do you think Sang-jun thought we would be inside last night? Yeosang stared earnestly at his brothers, his gaze searching for an answer. Wooyoung and Seonghwa exchanged looks, both of them caught between shock and discomfort. Neither one knew how to answer.
Seonghwa paused, his boots crunching the glass as he stepped onto the threshold. The inside of the shop wasn’t much better. Seonghwa’s prized wares were scattered and broken—some trinkets smashed beyond recognition, a shelf knocked over and spilling its contents like the remnants of a storm. The faint glow of a strange, otherworldly light flickered from the back of the room. The air smelled faintly of decay and copper. Sang-jun had been here, and it wasn’t a normal break-in.
Wooyoung stepped beside him, eyes scanning the room with an unreadable expression. The three brothers exchanged a glance, the weight of the situation settling between them.
“Who would do this?” Jongho muttered, stepping cautiously into the shop behind them, his voice barely above a whisper. His eyes narrowed as he surveyed the destruction. “This is more than just breaking and entering. It’s… something personal.”
Seonghwa nodded, pushing past a broken display case. “It feels like a message.” His voice was low, thoughtful. He could feel the traces of the vampire’s presence—faint, but lingering. The air had a strange, metallic taste to it that made his skin crawl.
Jongho crouched down by the broken door, inspecting something on the ground. His expression tightened as his fingers brushed the dirt. He looked up, his voice cold. “These aren’t just scratches. They’re claw marks.” Yeosang’s eyes widened as he stepped forward, crouching down next to Jongho. “Claws?”
“Not like an animal’s. Something more precise and foul-smelling.” Jongho’s face twisted slightly in disgust. “Whatever did this wasn’t human.” Turning to the brothers, Jongho looked expectantly at the trio. His eyes held that no-nonsense gleam they got whenever he was done beating around the bush and wanted something quickly.
The old women outside were still talking, unaware of the full extent of what had happened inside. The gossip was still flowing, Seonghwa glanced toward the door, his eyes narrowing. He could almost hear their voices speculating the truth, but this wasn’t some vengeful lover or a cursed spirit, if only. No, whatever Sang-jun did last night had a purpose—and it wasn’t over yet.
“Let’s close the door first,” he said quietly, his tone warning the others to keep their wits about them. The four of them carefully stepped over the debris. As Seonghwa went to close what little remained of the door, he paused, looking at the extent of the damage in its entirety.
The shop had been the heart of the Seonghwa’s livelihood, a business he rebuilt over years of hard work and perseverance. Sure the Park’s before had used it as the grounds for where their specific type of clientele could come to make requests but Seonghwa had spent the majority of his young adulthood repurposing the shop to more reliable, less mystical artisanal craftsmanship. It was almost impossible to believe it could be destroyed within one night. And yet, the evidence was clear. Whatever had happened here wasn’t the result of a broken heart or a petty quarrel. This was something far more sinister.
Closing the remains of the door, Seonghwa turned towards the heavy, nearly palpable, weight of Jongho’s gaze. His expression was hard, his jaw tight with frustration. The air inside the shop felt charged as if the very walls were closing in around them.
“Alright,” Jongho’s voice was low, but it carried an unmistakable edge. “I’ve had enough of this silence.”
Yeosang shuffled his feet from where he stood at the side of the shop, his posture tense, his eyes darting between Seonghwa and Wooyoung. “What do you mean?” Wooyoung asked, though they all likely already knew.
Jongho’s eyes locked onto them with an intensity that made it clear this wasn’t a casual conversation. “I’m not blind.” His eyes flicked to the broken window, to the claw marks in the wood, to the faint traces of blood, and the strange, foul smell that still lingered in the air. “This isn’t just some random attack. This is planned.”
Seonghwa shifted uncomfortably under his gaze. His heart began to pick up its pace. Jongho was always perceptive, always quick to see through the lies or half-truths they told themselves. And now that he was pressing for answers, Seonghwa couldn’t dodge the inevitable.
“You’re right,” Seonghwa said quietly, the weight of the admission sinking in. “It’s not just some petty vandal. Someone— something — is hunting Wooyoung.”
Jongho’s gaze snapped to Wooyoung, his eyes darkening. “You’re telling me you’ve had a vampire sniffing around, and none of you thought to mention it?”
Wooyoung stiffened, his eyes narrowing. “Who said anything about a vampire?” he questioned, but even he could hear the thinness in his voice. He was starting to realize just how much trouble they were in.
“No one had to,” Jongho said flatly, crossing his arms over his chest. His eyes narrowed, scanning the shop as his gaze flicked to the shattered window, then back to them again as if listening to some unheard rhythm. “I can practically smell the leech from here. I’d have known from ten kilometers out.”
The statement hung in the air like a suffocating weighted blanket, the tension thickening. Wooyoung’s eyes flicked between his brothers and Jongho, but he didn’t say anything—he didn’t need to. This was the moment. It was happening. Jongho had said it.
Seonghwa’s pulse quickened, his chest tightening as the implications of Jongho’s words set in. He opened his mouth, but the words came out in a rush. “Pause. What do you mean… smell ?” his voice edged with confusion, but also growing suspicion. The implications of Jongho’s casual tone made his heart race in a way that had nothing to do with the looming threat of the vampire stalker.
Jongho froze for a beat, then let out a short laugh, his lips twisted into a tight, knowing smile. It wasn’t malicious, but it wasn’t comforting either. He could see the realization beginning to dawn in their eyes, and he wasn’t in the mood to drag it out any longer.
“You’ve never noticed?” Jongho asked as if the idea had been the most obvious thing in the world. “You’ve never wondered why I disappear once every month; why I know when something’s off? When there’s danger near?”
His voice was a low growl, but it wasn’t born from anger—it was more exasperation. “Why else do you think I’d run practically 40 kilometers in a night? It’s not like there’s some marathon for me to be training for!”
Wooyoung’s brow furrowed, the pieces of the puzzle beginning to fall into place but still out of reach. “What are you saying?” he asked, his voice low, cautious.
“I’m saying,” Jongho began slowly, his voice lowering as if he were talking to a child, “that I smell things. Not just your run-of-the-mill scents.”
Seonghwa’s brow furrowed, his confusion mixing with dawning realization. He exchanged a glance with Wooyoung, who was just as silent as he was, watching Jongho’s every movement.
“Jongho—" Yeosang started, his tone hesitant, but he was cut off as Jongho’s eyes shifted. For a moment, they glinted with a feral gleam that gave away far more than he intended. There was a pause. The room seemed to grow even quieter if that was possible, the air thickening with an unspoken understanding.
Seonghwa blinked. “ Wait —"
Jongho’s spine began to curl, as his bones began to pop with each passing second. Wooyoung flinched at the sound of bones snapping and clothes ripping. It was sharp, like an orchestra of dry branches breaking in symphony. Senoghwa stood shocked in place his only thought being, Now it makes sense why Jongho used to growl when he hit puberty.
Jongho dropped to his knees, his fingers clawing at the floorboards as if grounding himself to the present. His jaw cracked open, stretching unnaturally as his teeth lengthened into fangs, sharp and glistening. Veins pulsed visibly beneath his skin, his muscles rippling and contorting as he seemed to will the intense force of his transformation. Thick, brown fur erupted along his arms, spreading like wildfire, even as his limbs twisted into something larger, more animalistic. His nails split open into claws that scraped the floor beneath him, carving more lines into the wood. In seconds, Jongho was no longer crouched like a man but rising, towering like some beastly, shaggy dog-bear.
The air in the room thrummed.
There in the middle of the chaos that was the Park’s nursery and botanical stood Jongho, his hands— paws now— planted firmly on the ground, letting out a growl that vibrated through Seonghwa’s chest. His silhouette filled the room with dreadful majesty, not quite human and not quite wolf, wearing remnants of Jongho’s form like a memory, but its chest heaved with animalistic breaths and its claws gleamed in the dim light.
Jongho’s eyes flicked up, now glowing golden and wild, like twin moons burning from within.
Wooyoung stumbled back, eyes wide, breath caught in his throat. “Is Jongho cursed?” he whispered.
Seonghwa hesitated for a moment, Was it possible that Jongho was cursed with lycanthropy? Was lycanthropy even a curse?
Yeosang inched closer, “No, his eyes—his eyes —they’re still there.” before wrapping his arms around the giant wolf standing before them.
The eldest and youngest Park brothers stood frozen, caught between shock and awe. Between the instinct to flee and the epiphany that Jongho— their Jongho—was still standing right in front of them. Jongho proceeded to let out a yip before rubbing his head against a smiling Yeosang.
“Does this mean he has a fursona?” Wooyoung asked from his spot near the counter. Seonghwa tried his best not to laugh as Jongho’s wolf eyes narrowed in indignation before letting out a huff of exasperation. The sound of bones popping once more filled the silence as Jongho transformed once again before their eyes.
A now naked Jongho let out a sharp, almost amused, exhale. “ No , I do not have a fursona, Wooyoung.” He looked at each of them, his gaze flicking from Seonghwa to Wooyoung, and then to Yeosang, who was staring at him with mirth-filled eyes.
“There’s no shame if you do, Jongie.” Wooyoung began. “My friend Yeonjun-ie back—”
“I’m a werewolf,” Jongho said simply, as though it was the most obvious thing in the world. "Been one for as long as you’ve known me. Sangie-hyung figured it out ages ago."
Seonghwa’s mind reeled, If Jongho is a werewolf, then San is a werewolf too!
Yeosang’s face flushed with the sudden revelation. “Jongho you’re naked,” he whispered but was cut off by Wooyoung’s banshee-like screech.
“You —” Wooyoung shrieked, stabbing a finger at a gaping Yeosang like he was a prosecutor in a courtroom drama. “You knew? You knew and didn’t say anything? I trusted you with my Zetflix password! I’ve shared my snacks with you!”
Yeosang sputtered as he wildly looked around the store like he was trying to process the words while also trying to see which herbs would make the best use to cover Jongho’s nakedness — Lavender? Rosemary ? Did thyme have enough surface area? Would basil make an acceptable toga alternative?
Listening to Wooyoung’s theatrics Seonghwa summoned some spare clothes from the backroom and handed them to an embarrassed Jongho.
“I’m literally not even the weirdest thing that’s happened this week,” Jongho muttered, pulling on a pair of pants. “Why are you acting like I committed identity theft?”
“Because you transformed into a dog and ruined my already fragile concept of reality, JONGHO,” Wooyoung hollered, spinning on him now with the flair of a betrayed Shakespearean heroine. “Do you have any idea how long I’ve mocked those Vattpad werewolf fanfic girlies? And now I am one?! This is karmic retribution!”
Jongho blinked. “Okay, first of all— dog? I’m a werewolf, not a jindo.”
Wooyoung clutched his chest. “Excuse me, I’m sorry, Your Furry Highness! Next time I’ll make sure to use your full ceremonial title before nearly fainting from supernatural shock.”
Seonghwa massaged his temples as his mind tried to tie loose threads together, That means San knew something was amiss when he visited them the other day…was the cryptic story about Old Man Kang’s chili peppers real? Or was San trying to justify his presence and ease into werewolf diplomacy?
Meanwhile, Wooyoung gasped, turning to give Yeosang an 'I’m not mad, just disappointed' look on his face. “You’ve snuck Jongho into our shared room back in high school when Great Aunt Seo-yeon said no! And you didn’t mention there’s a werewolf in our group? HE SLEPT ON THE FLOOR, YEOSANG! Do you know how vulnerable ankles are as nighttime chew toys?!”
Seonghwa felt like he needed to gift Old Man Kang one of his prized cabbages as recompense for the internal badmouthing he had been up to. Yeosang’s face flushed, as though he was an unwanted culprit in a scandalous secret being spilled right in front of him, unaware he was the main perpetrator involved. Wooyoung, now shaking Yeosang like a maraca, only continued, “I can’t believe you! I even let you borrow my favorite blanket. Do you KNOW how many trust levels you just broke? You don’t come back from blanket betrayal.”
Yeosang stared at Jongho, his expression one of complete astonishment. His eyes darted from Jongho to Seonghwa and back again as if searching for some sign that this revelation was a joke. But there was none.
“I didn’t know how to bring it up!” Yeosang squeaked. “It felt…rude?”
“You know what else is rude? Letting me moisturize next to a werewolf and not giving me a heads-up in case full moons trigger spontaneous body hair envy!”
Jongho, now decently dressed but thoroughly offended, crossed his arms. “You’re acting like I go around shedding on your sofa and growling at delivery men. I’m more well-mannered than some in my current company, thank you.”
“Oh, yes, how civilized ,” Wooyoung deadpanned. “Next you’ll tell me you drink water from a crystal chalice and not a cup like the rest of us peasants.”
“I’ll literally bite you.”
Seonghwa sighed deeply. “Please don’t.”
Yeosang blinked a few times as if trying to process what he’d just heard, but the words still hung in the air, too shocking to fully sink in. “Wait, I thought it was obvious, the wolves have been restless,” Yeosang said, his voice rising in disbelief as he glanced at Wooyoung and Seonghwa. “Jongie always disappears during the full moon, and he runs warm —like, ridiculously warm! How did none of you put that together?"
“Not all of us have the privilege of snuggling Jongie.” Wooyoung snarked back.
Seonghwa’s heart was still racing, though not from fear, but from the shock of it all. His mind was scrambling to catch up with the new reality unfolding before him. It made sense now all the memories from childhood—Jongho’s uncanny knack for being in the right place at the right time, his sharp instincts. His heightened awareness of things they couldn’t see or hear. His sensitivity to certain places and smells. And now, his admission made everything click into place.
Yeosang shrugged again, but this time there was no humor in it. “Besides, I did not see the need to. We have had our secrets to keep.”
The words hit Seonghwa harder than he expected.
Jongho’s lips curled into a wry smile, one filled with youthful mischief. “Don’t get mad at Sangie-hyung, it’d have ruined all the fun of seeing just how long it’d take for either of you two to notice?” He glanced at a disbelieving Wooyoung. “Come on, I’m not that stupid. I figured out pretty early on you were hiding things from me, too.”
Seonghwa felt like he was wrapped in cotton. His heart thudded painfully as he watched Jongho boldly speak his truth and shift their reality with one sentence. He thought back to that morning. To Yeosang’s gaze waiting patiently for words that Seonghwa couldn’t bring himself to even think of uttering.
You okay? Yeosang’s voice broke through the haze in Seonghwa’s mind.
He blinked, straightening up.
Yeosang didn’t push, but his gaze lingered a beat too long, and Seonghwa knew; he was running out of time. Still processing, Seonghwa swallowed the bitter taste creeping up his throat. “So you can really—" He cut himself off, glancing at Jongho. "You can smell vampires?”
Jongho’s smile returned, a little more sly this time. “I can smell pretty much anything. Joy. Fear. Loneliness. The air changes and I’ve gotten pretty good at recognizing it.” Jongho said matter-of-fact, shrugging as though it was the simplest thing in the world. “I smell magic, too. All of you are practically bathed in it. And I smell him —the vampire, the one hunting you, Woo.”
Seonghwa blinked, trying to process. “You can smell magic?”
“Yeah, I can smell you three from miles away if I wanted to,” Jongho laughed as Seonghwa’s mouth twisted into a grimace.
Does that mean he can smell the curse? Seonghwa thought to himself.
“I smell predators —things that aren't human. And I’ve been keeping a lid on it because... well, Sangie’s right, we all have our secrets.” His hand clenched into a fist by his side as he looked towards the wreckage of the shop, the marks of violence still haunting the room. “But this—this isn’t just some coincidence and it’s not easy to brush aside. The vampire who’s hunting Woo, he’s close…and he’s going to be after all of you soon enough. The hunt never stops.”
There was a tense silence that followed as the brothers absorbed the weight of this new information. Seonghwa was beginning to feel like he had too many drinks at The Seven Seas and suddenly he’d ended up in some new reality. One where vampiric stalkers couldn’t be taken to court for breaking-and-entering, where Yunho and Jongho knew about his family’s magical abilities, and Jongho also happened to be some type of mythical shape-shifting creature. The world felt like it’d gone ass up and anything right from left felt like left from right.
What’s next, is Yunho a unicorn?
Seonghwa rubbed his temples, feeling the onset of a rare semi-non-Wooyoung-induced migraine coming along. Picking up a broom, he felt the need to stress clean. His movements were deliberate and stiff; like he was still getting used to this whole ‘being a magical family’ thing.
“We need to clean, and we can not use magic.” He paused, glaring at Wooyoung, who was already casting a mournful glance at the nearest object that could conceivably be cleaned by telekinesis. “No shortcuts. Elbow grease, people.”
The collective groans from the younger three echoed through the ruined shop, making it sound like a chorus of disappointed cats. Yeosang slouched against the counter, clearly defeated by the thought of scrubbing when he could easily have conjured a cleaning wind or anything but the use of his own two hands. Jongho gave a soft growl of frustration as he grabbed a dustpan, the expression on his face one of a man wronged by fate.
“Fine,” Jongho grumbled, dragging his feet to the shattered remains of a table before pulling out his phone. “But if I have to suffer by association then I’m texting Yunho to come help install the new door.”
“That’s the spirit,” Wooyoung said with a teasing grin. But even with all his teasing, Wooyoung’s eyes were still a little too sharp, betraying his anxiety. He’d been quiet since Jongho’s revelation as if he still couldn’t entirely reconcile the fact that he’d just barely returned home only to find his best friend was a werewolf, and he hadn’t even noticed.
Seonghwa didn’t say anything, but his brow furrowed as he took in the wreckage of the shop—once his pride, a place he'd meticulously built, now barely recognizable. The feeling of being out of control, of having no choice but to use magic, was unsettling. But the reality was undeniable. They had to protect what was left, and that meant breaking every rule he’d set for himself.
Clearing his throat Seonghwa continued, “Now that we know Sang-jun has been monitoring where we’ve been inhabiting, we have to make sure the shop is in semi-order before we begin to set up protective wards,” His younger brothers looked at him in shock. Even Seonghwa could admit that he would have never believed himself to be capable of so openly saying they needed to use magic at the shop.
Had you asked the Seonghwa from two weeks ago if he would ever allow casting in his precious shop, he would have laughed in that poor unsuspecting person’s face before politely showing them the door. Granted, the Seonghwa from two weeks ago also wouldn’t have even attempted to read the Park family grimoire, try to banish a vampire using necromancy methods for evil spirits, or even entertain the idea that Jongho was a werewolf.
“And if I see one speck of dust while we’re setting up the wards, I’m summoning a whole storm of cleaning supplies just to start from the beginning again.”
Wooyoung looked over at Seonghwa, suppressing a laugh at the absurdity of it all. “What an eventful day, what’s next?” he asked to no one in particular “Are Sangie and Jongie gonna finally drop that they’re more than just friends?” He smirked, finding the faintest hint of amusement even as the severity of their situation started to settle in.
Yeosang paused, eyes wide, as he looked around the room like he’d just been asked the obvious, “Jongie and I have been together since he graduated high school.” Wooyoung spluttered from his corner of the shop as Yeosang sighed and handed a laughing Jongho a crisp 50,000 won bill. Seonghwa’s mind spiraled.
They were secretly living in some paranormal rom-com!
“How did this happen?” Wooyoung excitedly screeched, clutching onto Jongho’s arm as he wildly swung his body back and forth. Yeosang blinked twice before responding deadpan, “What? Jongho’s a werewolf, we are witches , Hwa-hyung—” He pointed to Seonghwa with exaggerated slowness, as though explaining it to a very small child. “Is a magic user now. Don’t you think it’s a little late for questions like that?”
Seonghwa shot them all with a pointed look. “Yeah, let’s not go down this road,” he muttered, as he continued to sweep a particularly stubborn shard of glass into a pile. “I’m still trying to wrap my head around the fact that our entire lives are fiction at this point. One reality-altering truth revelation per morning, please”
Wooyoung cackled as he brought out bags to start collecting the debris. “So what’s next after we’re done cleaning and casting wards? We lure Sang-jun in to use the potion we’ve been brewing, or are we going to have to set up some kind of magical Craigslist for supernatural creatures so Jongho can tag team Sang-jun in the parking lot of Mr. Yoon’s diner?
“Who knows?” Jongho chimed in “Maybe the cowboy at The Seven Seas was an incubus?”
Seonghwa gave them a pointed look, clearly unimpressed with the humor in the moment, but his lips twitched despite himself. “Let’s clean first, and then we can start a support group for disgruntled magical creatures. But right now, we need to focus on what’s here.”
Yeosang flashed a grin. “Sure, sure. But when we finish cleaning, you are ordering us snacks, right? I am too emotionally drained to function on just broth and existential dread.”
“Fine. You can have your snacks,” Seonghwa muttered, though the corner of his mouth curled upward.
Seonghwa shook his head as he swept another pile of glass into the dustpan. “You guys are unbelievable,” he muttered under his breath, but the edge in his tone was fading. For a moment, he almost felt like they were back to normal—bickering, laughing, making light of the chaos around them. Almost.
“Yeah, yeah,” Wooyoung said with a wink as he swept the last of the debris from the counter, “But we both know you’d miss us if we were serious all the time.” He nudged Jongho, who was hunched over near the wreckage of a bookshelf, picking up shards of broken wood like they weren’t too delicate to touch.
“Not really,” Jongho muttered without looking up, though his lips curled into a half-smile.
“Please,” Wooyoung said dramatically, stepping over the broken chairs, “Seonghwa’s practically the only reason the rest of us don’t burn the whole town down every time we’re upset.”
“Wow, thanks for the support,” Seonghwa replied dryly, but he couldn’t quite hide the smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.
With the floor finally cleared of the worst of the glass and debris, Seonghwa paused to assess the shop, running his hand over his brow. It still looked like a war zone. The walls were scarred with deep claw marks, and the air still held the sickly, metallic smell of blood—though it was fading slowly. His gaze traveled over the counters, the bookshelves, and the tables he’d spent years perfecting. It was hard to stomach seeing it all reduced to this.
“Okay, enough with the jokes,” Seonghwa said, his voice dropping, the gravity of their situation creeping back in. “Let’s get the wards up before we start attracting more trouble. We don’t have the luxury of time.”
“Right,” Yeosang said, his grin fading into something more serious as he looked around the room. “What do you want us to start with? Protective shields? Banishment wards?”
Wooyoung gathered the necessary ingredients for the protective wards, while Yeosang and Jongho started setting up the makeshift altar, using old tools and objects that had been untouched for years. There was something about the way they worked together—an unspoken understanding that no matter how much their world had been turned upside down, they still had each other. And, in this moment, that was enough to hold the chaos at bay.