Chapter Text
As a child, the sight of blood would make Guanlin sick to his stomach.
He first discovers this when his father, the king of his kingdom, returns from war, thousands of soldiers following behind him on their horses. Guanlin watches wide-eyed as they bleed and bleed, crimson gushing from their sides. The scent is metallic, and Guanlin could feel himself getting nauseous, clenching tightly to his mother’s robes, like they'd help him to be steady, despite it all.
Some of them won’t make it. Those soldiers beg the gods for mercy, but their blood spills over the palace floors, and Guanlin can only watch helplessly as they bleed to death.
Eventually, his mother has a nurse take him back to his room. But what he had seen could not be unseen, and Guanlin had decided then and there that he hated the sight of blood.
532 years later, and that still hasn't changed.
He’s certainly gotten used to it now, however. At least now, he can look over a field of fallen soldiers, look over their dead bodies and not feel sickness wash over him. Instead, he only feels grief, sadness as he remembers their lives, their deaths, as if he had lived them only moments ago.
And that's where he stands now, kneeling over a particular soldier who had an arrow piercing through his chest. Guanlin’s heart aches to know that this person was a friend, a husband, a father.
“Guanlin.”
The voice is so familiar, comforting that he doesn't even move, still stays kneeling to pay his condolences to the fallen. Seongwoo stands over his shoulder, however, and Guanlin doesn't even have to look back at him to know that he's doing just the same.
“You’ll send them to a better place… Right?” Guanlin asks. He knows the answer to the question already, but it's the child in him, the one that never got the chance to properly grow up that still worries, still needs that reassurance from Seongwoo.
“If he deserves to, yes.”
Guanlin hates that answer. These people have had their lives taken from them. But he knows it's only fair.
Like always, he takes a deep breath and sighs in understanding. Seongwoo places a hand on his shoulder and gives it a gentle squeeze. “Come on, let’s go home so I can send them properly to rest.”
Seongwoo’s words are reassuring, but Guanlin still stays there a moment longer. The soldier looks peaceful, like he's sleeping. But he's only one out of hundreds that have died today. 108, exactly. Seongwoo has a lot of work to do, he thinks.
Finally, Guanlin brings himself to stand on his shaky legs, leaning a little on Seongwoo for support. He gives a little nod, sucking in a breath that helps him collect himself once more. “Okay,” he finally breathes. “Okay, let’s go home.”
Maybe he hasn't gotten used to this after all.
—
It takes over three hours for Seongwoo to address all of the dead soldiers, three long hours that Guanlin spends in the courtyard, sitting out on the deck and watching the sun move in the sky. Birds visit, take shelter in the large tree that's in the middle of the yard, before taking off again into the orange sunset. It's a pretty day, Guanlin thinks, but he just wishes he weren't spending it like this.
“Are you done yet?” Guanlin calls into the house, ready to lie on the deck in his boredom.
“Don't rush me, kid--” Seongwoo answers back. He sounds aggravated, but Guanlin knows he's only playing around. A little laugh escapes, and he shakes his head in response.
“I'm not rushing you!” he replies with a smile. “I'm just bored…”
His voice trails off a little, and only a moment later is Seongwoo appearing beside him, sliding open the door and sitting beside the younger male.
“I'm done, I'm done..” Seongwoo reassures him. He lets out a soft sigh before straightening out his robes, looking out towards the skies. The sun is setting now, and the sky looks blood red, eerily beautiful.
“How are you feeling?” Guanlin asks.
“Okay,” Seongwoo replies, but Guanlin knows that it's merely a cop out for now. Sending people to rest, or condemning their souls to damnation… He imagines it can't be an easy task. Seongwoo has to do it on the daily, and it's probably even worse, when it's hundreds like this.
Still, Seongwoo is strong, and Guanlin knows that. And while he could be stubborn, he trusts Seongwoo to confide in him whenever he feels the need to. He's young, but he's been by Seongwoo’s side for a century now.
Then he breathes out a soft sigh. “This job is depressing.”
Guanlin laughs softly. “Sounds about right, Grim Reaper doesn't really sound like it's supposed to be a fun job.”
At that comment, Seongwoo nudges Guanlin’s side playfully. “Goblin doesn't sound too exciting either.”
Guanlin only shrugs in response, but the action doesn't go unnoticed.
“Are you tired of it..?” Seongwoo asks sincerely, carefully.
He has to think about it for a moment. Before him, the Goblin would live for centuries at a time… Is it right for him to want to end this life as a Goblin at such a young age? 532 years isn't that long in immortal years, he thinks.
But it's hard. Guanlin has watched his family and friends pass. After them, he watches as more people he's close to die, leaving him alone again in the world.
Seongwoo’s been by his side for the last 300 years, but Guanlin only wonders if he’ll be ripped from his side too. Fate had never been fair to him, after all.
Biting his lip, Guanlin shrugs again, not opening his mouth, not verbally responding. It's not a question that he has an answer to right now. Because as much as he wants to die, he's afraid of what will happen when he’s no more.
Beside him, Seongwoo pats him on the shoulder. “You'll figure everything out, Guanlin-ah. I know you will.”
His words are reassuring, as simple as they are.
Some time passes; Guanlin and Seongwoo sit out in the courtyard, and watch until the setting sun becomes the starry skies and the bright crescent moon in the sky. Guanlin remembers the times when his mother would point out constellations for him before he would sleep… But that was five centuries ago.
“I have a new mission,” Seongwoo finally says, his eyes tracing over one of the constellations in the sky.
“Oh?” Guanlin responds, looking over at the other curiously.
“Yes,” Seongwoo nods. “She’s in Korea. According to the scroll I received today, she was supposed to die a little over a year ago, when she was held hostage by the Qing dynasty. But before I could claim her, she somehow escaped and found herself back in Korea…”
“So unfinished business then?” Guanlin suggests.
Seongwoo nods. “Would you like to accompany me?”
As always, it's an offer that Guanlin can't resist.
—
Sunshine.
It's the only word that comes to mind when Jihoon tries to describe the boy that appears in his dreams every so often. His smile is so radiant, so bright, that even though he's dreaming, Jihoon worries that he might be blinded. He's handsome too, with pretty eyes and a slim nose, a baby face and a tall, thin figure that towers over him.
He feels almost real, Jihoon thinks. Sometimes, he wishes he were real.
He's comforting. In times where Jihoon finds himself needing strength, Jihoon would unconsciously dream of him, and that bright smile would give him hope.
He's also mysterious. Jihoon doesn't know him. He doesn't recall meeting anyone like him either. The boy is just a stranger that's somehow invaded his dreams, has become a sort of security blanket for Jihoon whenever he needed reassurance or comfort.
But that's not a bad thing, Jihoon thinks… Right?
This time in his dreams, the boy stands before Jihoon as he always does and he hugs him tightly, promising that he’ll meet him again soon.
Then he wakes up. His vision is blurry for a moment as he struggles to open his eyes, his body still feeling rather heavy. A groan escapes as he stretches out his aching limbs before he yawns loudly, then looks down at the table before him where his head used to lie only moments ago.
Sprawled over the wooden furniture are pages and pages of notes that Jihoon’s supposed to be studying. Supposed being the keyword, because he certainly hadn't been studying for the past hour or so now, had taken a nap instead when he began to realize that he just wasn't understanding the concepts that were being taught.
Maintaining Yangban status is a big deal for Jihoon’s family. His own father is a part of the king’s most trusted government officials, and his grandfather before that, and his great grandfather before that. Jihoon could practically trace his entire lineage to the Yangban class. Not only that, by high rankings within the class too.
Jihoon isn't sure that he can keep up the tradition. But he’s better off dead than telling his father that.
The sight of the untidy papers before him sends a wave of anxiousness coursing through him. How is he meant to study all of this? And what for? To become a noble in the king’s palace? Jihoon doesn't want that in the first place.
He sighs softly, tidying up the sheets of paper before a loud slam interrupts him, make him jump in his surprise.
Jihoon’s father walks in just then, sending an authoritative look at his son. His gaze makes Jihoon’s blood run cold. This man may be his father, but his standards for greatness is too overwhelming, and it makes Jihoon want to disappear, especially in moments like this.
His father stands directly before him, dignified and strong, and Jihoon can practically feel all the power that he has over him. He almost doesn't even want to look up to greet him properly, but he does anyways, folding his arms over the table he's sitting at and bringing his head against it too. “Hello, father,” Jihoon says softly.
“Hello, son,” he replies. Cold, harsh. Void of any actual emotion. “Are you studying like you're supposed to be?”
“For three hours straight now, just like you've asked,” Jihoon answers, trying to rid his voice of any signs of fatigue. His father can't know that he's just woken up from a nap.
“I see…” His father hums softly, and Jihoon bites his lip anxiously. “Then you'll have no trouble passing the test tomorrow, right? I scheduled one already for you--”
“What? No!” Jihoon bursts, sitting up and shaking his head.
“Why not?” he mocks, Jihoon can sense it in the tone of his voice, “If you’ve been studying for so long, you should know everything already. And this is your third time taking it--”
“I don't know it!” Jihoon finally admits, sighing audibly, and raising his voice desperately. Raising his voice at his father is always a bad idea, but he doesn't know how else to release his frustrations, tell him how he feels. “No matter how many times I study this, I don't know it--”
“That's because you're lazy and stupid--” his father spats, having lost his cool, too. Jihoon thinks he's much like a viper, the way he hisses at him and suddenly is kneeling down as well, leaning forward so that he's practically in Jihoon’s face. It's terrifying actually, and he almost wants to cry.
“I'm not lazy, I just don't understand anything, father, it's hard--”
“Our entire lineage has passed this test and maintained our status in the Yangban, you're telling me you can’t do the same exact thing?” His voice only gets louder, and it frightens Jihoon even more. “It's because you're lazy, you're unintelligent, and you--”
“ Stop it!”
Jihoon explodes, but his father does too, a hand quickly extending and striking Jihoon’s cheek. The pain is immediate and he whimpers softly, blinking in disbelief and in a weak attempt to hide the tears that threaten to fall from his eyes. He can't even look at his father right now.
“Do not speak to me like that ever again,” he demands. “You're embarrassing. If you fail this test again, you are no son of mine.”
Jihoon wants to cry at this point, chest wracking with the sobs that he tries to hold back. He wants to be strong, wants to say something back. But he can’t. He's too weak, to embarrassed to cry like this. He pushes himself off the floor and runs, pushing the door open and running away, letting the tears fly away with the wind as he escapes to the one place he knows he can find solace.
The river.
There's never anyone there. It's too dangerous, the current is too strong, and he should stay away from it, the elders have told him. But in a small village crowded with people, it's the only place he can find time to be alone.
Right beside the river, there's a shady tree that he likes to sit at. He nears that tree, but it's only as he's wiping at his tears and preparing to sit that he realizes that there's already someone sitting there.
Bae Jinyoung.
Jihoon’s best friend looks up at him, eyes wide with surprise. Usually, he'd be embarrassed to have someone see him like this. But it isn't the first time Jinyoung has seen him in this state.
“Hyung?” Jinyoung says. Jihoon sniffles as Jinyoung scoots over and lets him sit beside him.
For a moment, it's silent. Jihoon doesn't have anything to say as he clears his eyes. They're puffy and red, and he's still sniffling a bit, but Jinyoung still doesn't speak, just gently and comfortingly rubs at his back and lets him be.
Jinyoung knows him too well. He knows that Jihoon doesn't need empty words of reassurance, and he doesn't need someone to vent to about his problems. It would be the same story every time, about how his father only cares about his status and doesn't even treat him as a son, how he hits him and beats him when his performance is less than satisfactory. It's only when Jinyoung touches his cheek that he feels the sting of his father’s latest strike, and he's wincing softly in pain.
“He hit you again,” Jinyoung states in disappointment. “Are you okay?”
“I’ll be fine,” he reassures him. Then it goes quiet again. Jihoon listens to the river as it rushes towards the ocean, and Jinyoung continues rubbing his back until he's tired of it, instead brings his hand to rest on his knee.
“How are you?” Jihoon speaks suddenly.
The younger looks up at him innocently; Jihoon thinks it's cute how soft and gentle he looks when he looks up at him all wide-eyed, searching his face as he thinks of answer. “Good.”
Jinyoung is lucky. By blood, he's of the yangban class too, but he doesn't have his parents breathing down his neck all the time, expecting him to become a high-ranked government official in the future. Jihoon’s always been jealous of that.
“Just good?” Jihoon says with a playful laugh. Jinyoung smiles too, relaxing his hand on Jihoon’s thigh and giving a small shrug in return.
“I mean it's the same as always for me; nothing exciting really going on.”
“Ah,” Jihoon nods in understanding. “What about the prince’s wedding? You're going to that, right? That's kind of exciting.”
“Yes? You're going too, aren't you? Isn't it required because of your father’s status--?”
He hasn't forgotten about that, of course. Jihoon’s mother has had his nicest hanbok lied out for him for a week now.
The prince’s wedding is a rather big deal. His marriage to the princess of an outside kingdom is expected to strengthen the relations between the two, as well as produce an heir after the prince’s rule.
It's not like Jihoon cares much about the situation much, but his father certainly does, and he already knows that he’ll be dragged along to the event with his father and his mother. Jinyoung will be dragged along with his family too, but at least he doesn't have a strained relationship with them. At least he’s already the picture perfect son.
“I don't want to go,” Jihoon pouts, glancing at the river.
Jinyoung chuckles beside him. “You have to go. The king will be expecting your whole family.”
“Still don't want to go.”
Again, Jinyoung laughs before laying his head on Jihoon’s shoulder. The action is kind of comforting, he thinks, warm and affectionate. Jinyoung is like a shy adorable puppy, and Jihoon feels lucky to have him by his side.
“I'll be there too, hyung. After all of the formalities are over, I’ll come and find you. Promise.”
While Jihoon still feels reluctant, Jinyoung’s reassurance still puts him a little at ease, nodding in response to his best friends words.
He really is lucky to have him by his side.
—
“This looks silly on me--”
“It looks nice on you.”
Guanlin tugs uncomfortably at the bokgeon that Seongwoo has helped him put on, his hair tucked neatly underneath it. He isn't really sure why he has to wear it in the first place, but Seongwoo tells him that he’ll stand out too much at the prince’s wedding if he doesn't.
The bokgeon is blue in color, and it matches the simple hanbok that he wears too. On the piece covering his forehead, there are some Chinese symbols too that reads ‘long life’ on it. How ironic, he thinks.
Seongwoo is dressed similarly in all black (he'd expect nothing less from the Grim Reaper), but somehow he think he looks much more handsome than he does. Even with his hair tucked underneath his bokgeon, his cheekbones are sharp and his features are still accentuated. Guanlin feels a little jealous over how good looking he is.
“So what exactly is it that you need from me tonight?” Guanlin asks as he tugs on his sleeves. It's a habit he hasn't been able to scratch in 125 years.
“I really don't,” Seongwoo laughs. “I just thought you might want to tag along, visit somewhere new. You've been stuck in China too long.”
“Maybe that's because it's my home?” Guanlin says in amusement.
“Please, Goblins don't have real homes.”
It's meant to be a joke, Guanlin knows, but it feels more like a sudden stab to his chest. Seongwoo immediately realizes his mistake too, because he's suddenly blinking at him with wide eyes that are swimming with apologies.
It's hard to find somewhere you belong when you're traveling the world, guarding the souls of the dead before they can find their ways into eternity. He knows Seongwoo feels the same way too, but Guanlin’s sure that he's a little bit more used to the feeling by now. But for him…
Maybe it's because he's still got that mentality of a child that had died too early all those years ago, despite being over five hundred years old. He still feels the goosebumps on his arm every time a spirit talks to him, feels the sudden drain of energy every time one begs them for their life back.
He remembers the deaths of his own family like it had only been yesterday too, and those too are memories he wishes he could move past. He could be with them now, wherever they are. Instead, he's trapped here with the same physical body he's had for years now, and begging to be freed from this hell.
Beside him, Seongwoo speaks quietly: “I didn't mean that--”
“It's okay,” Guanlin quickly interrupts, shaking his head. “I'll forget you said it.”
Seongwoo nods cautiously in response, and Guanlin can tell that he suddenly feels like he's walking on thin ice with him. He pats his back in reassurance and offers him a thin, yet sincere smile.
“It's okay, really. Now let’s get going.”
Seongwoo nods, and in a quick moment, he disappears into a fog of black smoke, leaving Guanlin alone. He's teleported into the palace, of course, where the celebration is being held. Guanlin just hopes he won't stand out too much in his all-black attire, amongst the royals and nobles in vivid purples and reds, blues and golds.
He takes one last moment to adjust his hanbok before he teleports too, finding somewhere to appear that’s inconspicuous and won't draw unnecessary attention to him. That ends up being in one of the empty halls leading into the banquet hall. There's a few nobles lingering around, but they're too engrossed in their own conversations to notice him. He sets off immediately to find Seongwoo after that.
He’s in the main hall already, and Guanlin has to weave his way through crowds of people to find him. He examines the way everything is so neatly set up before him, with a four different thrones against the furthest wall, all of them elegant and boasting of high status and royalty. On either side of the thrones, there are rows of small tables, set with porcelain plates and tea cups. The noblemen would sit their later when it would be time for the banquet to begin.
The hall in its entirety is grand, and had he not been a prince himself centuries ago, Guanlin would be dumbfounded by its grandiose. For now, however, it just feels nostalgic, like he's revisiting his own past, but in an entirely different setting, and an entirely different country.
“This is…” Seongwoo says, but before he can continue, a bell rings loudly in his ears, and people begin to cheer as the marriage procession begins to filter into the hall.
First are the king and the queen. They're barely seen, barred in by the walls of their gama, carried in by servants. But Guanlin knows it's them by the way that people lower their heads and bow. He does the same, keeping his head down as the prince and princess enter as well, in a gama of their own, followed by the court nobles and their families, their sons and wives who step to the side while the fathers move to sit at the banquet tables that are set up for them, parallel to the thrones.
It's then that Guanlin sees him.
He's one of the first to enter behind his father, who has his head held high. In contrast, the son looks unconfident and uncomfortable, keeps his eyes down as he's practically being pushed forward by his mother. It's one rather harsh push that has him looking around self-consciously, and that's when their eyes meet amongst the crowd of people.
Guanlin stares wide-eyed, and the other boy stares back, unable to look away, even when the rest of the court has already entered the hall. It's as if his eyes are burning holes into his skin, and his whole body feels like it's on fire.
His heart beats, and the sword that's plunged deep into his chest aches, pulsates for a mere moment before the feeling is gone again.
Distraught, Guanlin lets out a heavy breath that he didn't know he had been holding in.When he finally looks away, he can still feel the impact he had felt when those wide eyes had met his own, like something inside of him had been awakened.
What was that?
“Shit… This will be a difficult one to swallow,” Seongwoo suddenly mutters beside him. The words have him breaking from his little daze, looking over at the others
“What?” he blinks in response.
“The refugee, the one that's supposed to die tonight… It's the princess. The prince’s bride.”
Guanlin’s eyes widen at that. Of course, it's not like Seongwoo has to do anything other than collect the princess’s soul when she passes… But there would be repercussions. With tensions rising between kingdoms, the princess’s suddenly death wouldn’t be taken lightly.
“I… Do you know how?”
Seongwoo shakes his head in response. “Though we shouldn't be too worried. She's the only one that is to die tonight, so I don't think it’ll be the result of an attack or a massacre.”
At that, Guanlin nods unsurely. It's comforting, but he still can't help the uneasy feeling in his chest.
He looks back over at the royals and noblemen, and most of them have taken their seats already. The prince and princess are seated too, forced smiles on their faces as they wave to the seas of people who have attended their marriage ceremony.
The princess looks like she's around his age (at least, his physics age). It seems too cruel to take her life away from her when she's still so young, still has so much potential ahead of her. But Guanlin knows that feeling, and can sympathize all too we'll
The prince too… He doesn't look much older, and his expressions betray that he doesn't really want to be here either. But it's a different kind of reluctance that Guanlin doesn't know how to describe.
Just then, the king rises, and he speaks in a clear, loud voice. “Thank you all for attending this celebration of marriage between my son, prince Lee Daehwi, and princess Kim Soonyoung.”
The court claps after that, and after a quick speech, the actual banquet begins. Guanlin only watches for a moment before he's scanning the crowd for that same boy that he had seen earlier, the one that made his sword suddenly feel hot in his chest.
Finally he finds him standing in a corner across the room, his eyes trained on the noblemen as they're served their meals. Then his eyes are shifting to Guanlin in a flash, and Guanlin wonders if he's kept an eye on his all this time. His heart skips a beat in his chest again when their eyes meet for the second time tonight.
Guanlin just stares at him, never mind how strange he must look, just observing him from afar. The other boy has his hair hidden under a bokgeon too, but he can still see little tufts of dark brown hair peeking from underneath. His deep brown eyes are burning holes into him, but they're so sleek and beautiful, Guanlin can't help but to feel captured by them. He's handsome, Guanlin thinks. He can't look away. Part of him wonders what kind of impression he's giving off in the moment, too.
He doesn't know how to describe it, but Guanlin feels… A connection. Something is drawing Guanlin to the other male, and similarly, the other can't look away from him either.
Guanlin decides to test something, keeping his eyes trained on the other as he starts to find his way through the crowd, seeking an exit out of the main hall, and out into the courtyard. He stays watching him until he vanishes out of sight, and until Guanlin is no longer surrounded by throngs of people. The courtyard is empty, but if he looks back, he can still see the main hall, crowded with people as they watch the ceremonies take place.
He watches for a moment more, and then another moment after that, clutching at his chest anxiously, as if it'll help calm his heart.
And then the boy steps out, looking disheveled and confused, searching for something, someone … And that someone, Guanlin knows is him.
The second that he spots Guanlin standing there alone, the boy freezes for a moment. He stands atop the steps that lead down into the courtyard and merely stares at Guanlin for a few seconds.
But then he starts to near. The boy descends the steps and walks up to Guanlin, and he feels rooted to the spot. Whether it's because of his anxiety or curiosity, he doesn't really know, but he stays, waiting until the other male stops only inches in front of him and glares up at him.
He's shorter. That's the first thing Guanlin notices, that he's almost a head taller than him. He could pull him forward for a hug, and the other would fit perfectly with his head tucked underneath his chin.
The next thing he notices is the way his face swims with emotions that he can't conceal. Confusion, fear, curiosity… Guanlin can see them all. It's somewhat humorous, how bad he is at hiding his emotions in comparison to how good he’s able to keep a straight face.
Lastly he notices that the boy really is much more handsome up close… His eyes are wide, but somehow still sleek, just like a feline’s. The slope of his nose is perfect, and his lips are full and pink, his skin flawless, glowing a beautiful tan from the rays of the sun. Maybe this is why Guanlin had been so taken with him earlier in the hall.
For a moment, it's just silent. Guanlin wants to break that silence, but he really doesn't know what to say, how to explain his weird behavior, or why he's made Jihoon follow him all the way out here.
An apology first, maybe. That sounds good.
He feels silly, having to think so hard about this. But eventually he opens his mouth, finally preparing to say something when--
“Who are you? Why were you staring at me so much over there? I've never seen you around here before. Are you even supposed to--”
“Ah, one question at a time, please,” Guanlin says, raising his hands in defense. He hadn't expected him to be like this. Though to be fair, the other has the right to know these things.
Still he just stares at him incredulously. Guanlin is afraid for a moment that he's going to leave, but then he watches him relax a little, nodding in understanding, but still on his guard.
“Okay… Okay then, what's your name?”
“Guanlin,” he says, but immediately regrets it. Guanlin isn't a Korean name, he's going to seem suspicious, he realizes.
But the other doesn't catch that, and only nods again. “Guanlin, huh…? I’m… Jihoon.” He speaks reluctantly, like he isn't sure whether he can trust Guanlin just yet.
“So.. What's with all the staring?”
“I--” Guanlin stutters, his eyes searching Jihoon’s face, like he’ll find an appropriate answer that way. Nervously, he bites his lip before looking up at him, meeting his eyes again. “You seemed kind of familiar…?”
Ah that, Jihoon raises a brow in his confusion. “Familiar…? I mean, you seem kind of familiar to me too, and you're really handsome, but… I don't know anyone that walks around with a giant sword lodged in their chest.”
Guanlin snorts a little at this, grinning in amusement. He feels flattered at the compliment, but at the same time, confused. Giant sword in his chest..?
Oh.
Suddenly, Guanlin feels a little dizzy, his jaw dropping a little as he stares at Jihoon in disbelief. Jihoon can see the sword in his chest. The very sword that had been lodged into his body over 500 years ago, the sword that had caused his death. Now, it glows a sickly green, iridescent and bright. By now, Guanlin’s learned to ignore it. But at Jihoon’s words, it suddenly glows too bright, barely in his line of vision.
Jihoon shouldn't be able to see it. No mortal is supposed to be able to see it. But he can feel Jihoon staring at it, looking like he wants to pull it out.
There's only one person in the world that's supposed to be able to see his sword, but it can't be Jihoon, right?
Jihoon can't be the Goblin’s bride, can he?
“Hey, answer me--”
“You can see the sword in my chest?” Guanlin suddenly says. Jihoon blinks back in his own confusion.
“Well, yeah-- that's why I noticed you in the hall earlier. It's kind of hard to miss..”
The words leave him stunned. Guanlin really isn't sure how he's supposed to feel at all, knowing that the person in front of him… Jihoon , his name is… This person is the one meant to end his life.
“Guanlin? Are you okay..?” Jihoon asks, the look on his face slowly morphing into something of worry as he reaches out to him. But Guanlin is afraid, like if Jihoon even touches him, he’ll burst into flames on the spot. He shys away from the touch and looks at him with wide eyes that are filled with panic.m
“I’m-- I’m sorry. I need to go--”
And with that, Guanlin doesn't even think, just teleports himself out of there. He goes home, all the way back him where he slumps to the floor in the midst of his emotions, nearly tugging out all of his hair.
Guanlin has found his groom.