Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Fire.

From far away, it looked pretty. Twinkling flashes of light in the distance, gradually advancing with a bouncing vivacity.

Yunho was supposed to be in bed, and the hairs on his neck tingled with apprehension. Any moment his parents could return from their night on the town and catch him perched at the window, peering outside at the sparkles that floated towards him. The beauty of it took his breath away, and fogged up the glass. He scrubbed the cloudy patch away with an oversized sleeve and checked over his shoulder that Gunho was still sleeping.

The small form of his younger brother gently rose and fell with his breaths. Yunho considered waking him to share the view of embers drifting past, but a part of him enjoyed the private show too much and wanted to keep it to himself. Soon, flames licked at the rooftops at the end of the street to finally be extinguished by a black clad mass of military men and their water buckets.

Yunho’s eyelids were heavy, and soon his neck was sore from craning out the window and his elbows twinged in protest at his resting on them. He rolled over onto his back and let his eyes fall shut. Sleep descended on him and he decided in the back of his mind that he ought to ask his parents tomorrow if they saw the shining display outside that night.

He woke to the cheerful chirping of birds perched on a tree outside his bedroom, heralding in the early spring morning. It seemed like any other morning as the sun came up, stirring all the creatures nestled in darkness.

Yunho remembered he wanted to ask about the spectacle outside his window last night and made for his parents’ room first, passing over a still sleeping Gunho. It was untouched, the bed still made. But this didn’t concern Yunho. He was observant for an eight year old, and he knew his mother habitually made the bed first thing after getting out of it. Heeding the grumbling of his own stomach, and reasoning that his parents had probably gone to breakfast and allowed him to lie in, he headed next to the dining hall.

The large room was completely empty. Timidly, he called out “Hello?” only to hear his own voice echo back at him off the high vaulted ceilings. He caught the patter of feet from the kitchens and turned his head in time to see Jaein, one of the servants, approach him with a horrified look on her face. “Miss Jaein?” He asked, slowly backing away as she continued toward him at her brisk pace. “What’s wrong, Miss Jaein?” She was still looking at him like he had sprouted wings. Her gaze held a mixture of deep pity and terror, and her breathing was loud and nervous.

“Yunho, dear...” Her voice shook and she had to gulp past a catch in her throat. “I think you’d better go back to bed now.” “But why?” He asked her, still backing away slowly. “Isn’t breakfast ready? I didn’t miss it, did I?” He knew it was much too early for lunch, but he had to account for everything. Jaein shook her head slowly, still staring holes into him. He was becoming scared now. “I think you’d better go back to bed,” she told him again, still advancing. “Where is everyone?” Yunho whispered, his back against the doorpost now. Jaein said nothing, but reached out to grab Yunho’s arm in hers. Yunho ducked this, and bolted out of the room and into the hallway just outside.

He asked himself what the trouble could be, why the house was so quiet, why Miss Jaein was acting so strangely, and why he couldn’t find his parents. The sinking feeling that he knew what had happened settled into his stomach. He ran from room to room, trying to eliminate the possibility… that one impossible possibility. There was a faint cry from outside— from the front of the house. He dashed for that direction as quickly as his legs would carry him. Sure enough, as he flung open the massive door, a thick crowd of family and strangers alike stood, silent as mouses, and staring at something concealed by their own shifting bodies. It was another servant who had cried out, but it wasn’t in pain, as he spotted her sobbing into her husband’s jacket desperately.

Yunho wandered up to the crowd, trying to identify anyone else. It felt as if a stone had just dropped into his gut. Several servants were shaking their heads and muttering to themselves, and the various children of the town had their faces pressed against aprons and waistcoats, their parents hiding them from whatever horror it was that everyone was staring at. His throat closed up. He had scanned the crowd and found no sign of his parents.

Yunho steadied himself and was about to push past some of the taller spectators to see the object of their attentions, when a shout came from behind that startled everyone. “Yunho!” Jaein yelled from the front path. “Somebody catch Yunho!” He caught a choked breath and readied to evade as villagers swivelled around, looking for the boy that had walked in, escaping their notice. It was sharp-eyed Jaein who found the bewildered child as she jogged up to the crowd and grasped him by the arm.

“Don’t look, child.” He felt her tears falling on to his hair as his face was pressed into her apron. “For heaven’s sake, don’t look.” He didn’t want to look, he didn’t want to face it, but at the same time he needed to see, he needed to know. He wriggled his way out of her grasp and to the front of the crowd, where a row of figures lay lined up on the street. Yunho’s trembling increased tenfold. It couldn’t be true...it couldn’t be...They’re just sleeping, I’m sure of it, he told himself. But he knew in his heart that they were not. And so he knelt by the dead forms of the two nearest motionless figures. His parents.

Yunho reached out to touch them. The pure cold lifelessness was such a shock to him that he jerked his hand back. Instead he stared into their eyes, then laid his head down on their chests one by one. Again, he lifted his head in horror. He sat back on his heels and took in a shaky breath. His father usually had such a comforting scent. When Yunho hugged his mother he was normally soothed by her presence. But it was all gone. There was no steady heartbeat to listen to, no soft lullabies to sing him to sleep. There was only pale, ash-covered skin, sightless eyes, and lifeless lips. There was only death.

Yunho’s rapid breathing gave way to a shriek of disbelief that startled the servants into action. It took three of them to drag him away, kicking and screaming in Jaein’s arms, and finally the crowd was invigorated. The Jeong household employees hastily went back inside, bringing the two bodies to lay in a back room and leaving the rest of the crowd to carry away their dead. Yunho weakly stretched a hand over Jaein’s shoulder, hoping his parents would stand up and take it, hoping it was a trick, or a joke, or something. He could only reach out helplessly as he was carried away, struggling. Yunho was deposited on his bed and finally cried himself into an exhausted sleep.

He awoke much as he had that morning, with few thoughts in his head and the usual peace of mind that comes with a few hours of dreamless sleep. The truth hit him like a brick when he sat up to see Jaein crying in a seat in the corner, with little Gunho wrapped up in her arms, looking at him anxiously.

“What time is it?” Yunho whispered. “Just past noon. Have you eaten today?” Yunho shook his head. Wasn’t that obvious? He didn’t dare look Jaein in the eyes as he asked his next, and last, question. “Are they really... Did they really...?” Jaein nodded as tears took her again. “They’re gone,” she said, pulling Gunho close. Yunho looked at his confused little brother and did not cry. He looked out the window at the tree where birds played, and life still went on, heedless of the end of the world.

Chapter Text

The panic that sets in when one is kept waiting for life changing news had become a way of life for Yunho in the past 24 hours.

First, “your parents have been killed in the revolt last night.”

“But they weren’t in any revolt,” little Gunho whispered, heartbroken. “They only went out for supper.” Of all the injustices the pair went on to experience, this would always be the worst.

Second, “none of your extended relations have the means to take you on.”

Yunho supposed later that he couldn’t fault their remaining family for this. Times were hard, there was rarely enough to go around, and his own parents had been better off financially than anyone else in the family. But, as an eight year old... to be forced to stand outside his own house while government officials came and carted away all of his parents’ possessions because they “belonged to the state now” was an experience that created a fire in his chest. One that burned low but brightly for years and years to follow.

Miss Jaein stood alongside them, a protective hand on one shoulder each. She had just been “let go” by the lanky, scowling man in uniform. He fidgeted with his hat and darted his eyes back and forth, as if this house was one in a long line of properties to be stolen by the city council. “I’m on your side,” the woman gave an extra squeeze on the two bony shoulders. “I’ll always come for you if you need me.”

Instructed to pack her things and go, Miss Jaein took her bag in hand and walked away. Yunho didn’t see her for many years after that. He struggled to see the furniture being carried out over the imposing black coat of the city councilman. The gleam of polished silver reflected back at him and his heart fell as he realised not a single heirloom could be kept for sentimental value. Anything and everything would be taken away for the King, or whoever else had need of it.

“Father’s chair...” Gunho’s whine was almost too quiet to hear, but Yunho squeezed his brother’s hand in response, casting his eyes away from the procession and waiting to be addressed by the officials who had custody of them now. To his dismay, it was the ashen-faced black coat man who looked down his long nose at them and simply ordered, “Get in the carriage.”

Third, “you and your brother are to live in the orphanage.” News that came halfway through the ride there.

Yunho stared daggers at the man, who seemed not to care and went rhythmically through the documents in his case one by one, looking down his sharp nose as always. It wasn’t the officer’s fault, and Yunho supposed later he couldn’t fault him anymore than his extended relations for his hand in their tragedy, but in that moment the flames burned hot and angry. His hold tightened on Gunho, who was watching, damp-eyed, as trees flew by.

The orphanage looked like it came out of a storybook. The proportions were clearly planned out to perfection, an intimidating symmetry in tall walls and tiny windows. If there was an area for children to play outside, it must be in the back because Yunho saw only the dark brick exterior and the curated shrubbery on his way up the front path, Gunho attached to his side like a newborn babe.

The pair were nudged along by the tall officer behind them and entered the drafty building with breath held tightly, locked up in their chests where no one could steal it. “This is the Headmaster.” He was also tall, and Yunho had to crane his neck up to see his face. As soon as he did, he averted his eyes back down. Only a shining pair of spectacles peeked out from the man’s small red face. He looked like someone had pinched his cheeks for too long, although Yunho couldn’t imagine why anyone would want to pinch this man’s cheeks. Gunho squeezed his hand harder, if that was possible.

The boys were guided to an elaborately upholstered sofa that was too tall for their feet to touch the ground. As Gunho swung his legs distractedly, Yunho peeked at the surroundings of the Headmaster’s office. It was dusty and old, with a strange smell that emanated probably from the books lining the walls and stacked on the floor. They were fragile and neglected, and Yunho could tell instantly that the man kept them only for show if they were so unused. What he actually did with his free time was a mystery.

When the adults were done discussing whatever it was they needed to, Yunho once again held his breath. It was time to be officially passed off to the next entity that owned them. Shining eyes observed the firm handshake and the exit of the black coat, and then flashed back over to the silent Headmaster.

“Will we be separated?”

“Only speak when spoken to.” The man’s face didn’t change but his voice was sharp and businesslike. Yunho blinked in shock. No one had ever spoken to him that way. He heard Gunho gulp from his side and rubbed his clenched fingers reassuringly. “That remains to be seen,” the Headmaster finally said, beckoning for the boys to follow after him as he swept down the hallway and into the main hall, talking as he went. “If anyone shows interest in adopting either of you, their wishes will prevail. If not, you both remain here until you come of age. I will allow you to stay in the same room unless you cause trouble. Be warned that misbehaving will be strictly punished. Our children are disciplined above all else.” They could stay in the same room.

One small mercy in the sea of tragedies.

Any thought Yunho had of thanking the pragmatic man dissipated on reaching the main hall. The Headmaster hadn’t been exaggerating when he claimed to value discipline above all else. Ten rows of perfectly postured children, ranging in age, were situated at the dining tables in the great hall. Not a sound could be heard above the click of the Headmaster’s own feet on the wood floor and Gunho’s laboured breathing as he tried to keep up.

“Children.”

200 heads turned to inspect the new meat.

“These are our new arrivals. They’ll stay in the east wing. Make them welcome.” With that, the Headmaster nodded his head insistently at the empty space on the bench to their right, a clear sign that the two new arrivals were to take a seat for the midday meal.

Yunho practically dragged Gunho to the vacant spot, eyes on the plate in front of him as he felt the eyes of his neighbours bearing down on him and his brother. Taking every situation one moment at a time, that was how they would survive. That was their life now.

And yet the fire burned in his chest at the injustice of it all.

Neither boy spoke to anyone as food arrived and was passed around and conversation filled the room. No one tried to speak to them, and so they spoke to each other with glances and hand squeezes.

Food was bland, and the water tasted strangely off but Yunho scarfed it down. Crying all morning had made him hungry, and he didn’t realise until that moment that neither of them had eaten all day. As soon as the food was cleared away, he was uncertain what to do. He and Gunho followed a solemn woman up to the east wing where they would be staying. Other boys played in the hallways and the common areas, and Yunho kept a watchful eye on them, instantly afraid of being picked on.

The room they were led to was large, bunkbeds lining the walls, small windows interspersed. There was a fireplace at one end of the room, and dressers lined up at the other end. Yunho had to admit it wasn’t bad. He had been expecting a cramped closet of sorts, perhaps with some blanket padding to substitute for a bed.

He let Gunho scurry over and pick a bed for himself and then selected the bunk underneath. At some point the woman left them and their things to attend to children elsewhere. There were a few boys in the room, playing games or chatting amongst themselves. No one spoke to the two new arrivals when they entered, but their conversations hushed to a whisper.

Nothing else to do, Yunho stretched out on the stiff mattress and scanned the bottom of Gunho’s bunk above him. Gunho was shuffling around, and each movement knocked some wood shavings off the crossbeam and onto Yunho’s face. He sighed and sat up. At least his head didn’t hit the bed. Annoyed with the debris falling onto him, he climbed up into Gunho’s bed to ask him to stop fidgeting so much.

The boy spun to face him, wide-eyed and red-handed. He was hiding something under his pillow. “What’s that?” Yunho whispered, barely a breath slipping past his lips. He was already reaching for it. “Mother’s music box...” Yunho traced his fingers over the delicate carvings on the side of the tiny box, before slowly prying open the lid. “I grabbed it before they sent us away,” Gunho whispered, his voice shaking and watery. Yunho reached for his hand again and held it firmly, still gazing at the box as it started to play.

A faint tune twinkled out as the lid raised high enough to trigger it. It was one from his earliest memories, a haunting little song his mother sang him to sleep with. Only when he begged and begged would she take it out and play it in later years, always with the utmost care and reverence. His heart sank as the tune came to a close. It ended so brightly, happily. But still it ended, and Yunho wanted it to play forever and ever. Everything was alright when the song twinkled on, as if his parents were right there with him, playing it after he whined and tugged on their sleeves. Yunho saw his own tear-streaked face in the tiny mirror and snapped it closed.

“Keep it safe,” he instructed. “We can’t let anyone find it.” He couldn’t imagine what would happen should any of the other orphans find it. They could sell it, or worse... He shook his head to empty it. Again, tears began leaking from his brother’s eyes. “I shouldn’t have, but they were going to take it, those men, and it doesn’t belong to them. It- it’s Mother’s and she would... she would want us to have it...”

Yunho felt the eyes on them, but pulled his brother close, whispering sweet nothings to dry his eyes. The boy still shook like a leaf. “It’s going to be alright.” He had no idea if it would be alright. But he knew as Gunho’s sobs slowed that nothing could separate them. They would get through it together.

“I’m her Gunho. I’ll always be here.”

For hours, they remained like that. Neither releasing their hold on the other, even as they were led again to the main hall to eat dinner and lick their plates clean shyly.

Neither could bear to be alone the first night, so Gunho crawled into Yunho’s bed, music box carefully stowed away where no one would discover it. Yunho didn’t sleep, even when his brother’s dry sobs evened into trembling breaths which evened into peaceful slumber. If Yunho was all alone, he wasn’t sure he could do this. Lie in bed, staring into the dark and praying to wake up from this dream, Mother rubbing his back and telling him it was only a nightmare. Yunho didn’t think he could survive this if he didn’t have Gunho.

Gunho was the reason for Yunho to be strong, to hold the tears and the agony at bay. It was Gunho that kept Yunho’s mind churning and his heart beating, his motivation to get through whatever would be thrown at them next.

That first 24 hours squeezed Yunho’s heart in a way that pained him and pushed him to his limit. But he meant what he had said to Gunho. He would be there with him and for him, and he would not be moved. The world would have to pry his cold, dead hands off of his little brother before he gave in.

Chapter Text

Within the first twenty four hours of living at the orphanage, Yunho discerned how the system worked.

He and Gunho had been placed with the “undesirable” children for some reason. Boys with murdered parents, or abrasive personalities, or disorders or disabilities, or anger issues, or... well, there were some boys that Yunho wasn’t sure why they were in that room at all. They seemed fine.

One such boy was their bed neighbour. He graciously leaned over and shook Yunho awake from the top of his bunk when the caretaker woman came in and blew her whistle.

All the others had jumped out of bed and snapped to attention but Yunho and Gunho were deep asleep and, had it not been for the help of their bed neighbour, would have remained so.

Yunho quickly learned that the orphanage’s strict discipline applied only when their caretakers’ eyes were on them. The children were obediently seen and not heard throughout the entirety of their room inspections and morning lessons. Meals were spent in quiet conversation and so were any supervised recreational activities.

As soon as the eyes were gone, the real orphans came out.

Their bed neighbour showed them how to make their beds and where to put their things, however few they had. Yunho saw this as a kindness and latched on.

Most of the others in their room ignored Yunho and Gunho for the first week.

Eventually their bed neighbour— whose name Yunho had never been confident enough to ask— turned to them one day at lunch and told them to stop following him around.

“Listen, new blood,” he whispered. “You can’t just attach yourselves to me. I’m not even supposed to be in your room, and I’ll be getting out of here soon. Find someone else to bother.”

“Why?”

The first words Gunho had spoken to anyone other than Yunho since arriving.

Their bed neighbour looked surprised to hear him, but shook himself out of it and answered the question.

“Well, I’m going to be adopted.”

That ended the conversation then and there.

Yunho wasn’t sure why this perfectly adoptable boy had been in their room either, but now that he was moving out, they would have to fend for themselves.

It didn’t help that there were a few hours a day when he and Gunho had to be separated. He had fought the caretakers as much as he dared on the matter, but Gunho was younger and he had to play with his age group in recreation time.

He rarely spoke about it, or anything really, but Yunho didn’t like having him out of his sight.

“Yunho!”

Gunho leaned over in the middle of their lesson and Yunho’s heart rate shot up.

“Shh, you’ll be punished.”

“But, hyung,” Gunho pouted up at him and continued. “I have a question.”

Yunho risked a glance at him and pursed his lips. If they got caught whispering, they were in trouble. Trouble of what degree, Yunho wasn’t sure, but he didn’t want to try his luck just now.

“Fine. Make it quick.”

Gunho made a face that Yunho couldn’t quite identify as a smile but it was brighter than he’d seen him in the past week, and that was worth all the trouble in the world.

“Why can’t we be adopted?”

Yunho’s jaw hit the floor, and he vaguely registered a strangled noise escape his throat. The boy sitting in front of him turned around and glared at the disturbance.

“Yunho hyung?”

Yunho blinked a few times and cleared his throat before turning his face back down to the textbook in front of him.

It had been a week— a singular week.

And Gunho wanted to be adopted?

“Gunho, why would you ask that?” It came out as barely a whisper, but Gunho was leaning so far out of his chair that he picked it up anyway.

“Well, I was just wondering because, you know, all the other boys in our room aren’t looked at for adoption either. It’s only the boys across the hall. But there isn’t any reason for us to not be adopted is there?”

“I wasn’t aware you wanted to be considered.”

It left Yunho’s mouth more bitter than he intended it, and Gunho shrank away, back into his own seat where his eyes glazed over.

A shameful blush stayed on Yunho’s cheeks the rest of the day.

Just like he did every night, Gunho climbed down from his bunk into Yunho’s as soon as the lights were blown out and the caretakers left. But he didn’t say anything, and the air between them was different.

“I’m sorry,” Yunho whispered into the dark. “All you did was ask a question.”

Gunho poked his head out of the blankets and nodded, studying his brother’s face for a few moments.

“You don’t want to be adopted.”

It wasn’t a question.

Yunho sighed quietly and tried to explain. “What’s so great about adoption anyway? We don’t need new parents, ours were already the best.”

Gunho nodded, hairs brushing Yunho’s chin. “We can’t replace them. We won’t replace them.”

Then why would he care about being adopted?

“Do you not like it here, Gunho?” Yunho’s whisper became even quieter. The caretakers had all gone to bed, and their bed neighbour was asleep. No one could hear them, but still Yunho felt as if the headmaster might jump out from under the bed and point his finger at them.

“I just miss... being home. Playing with my friends. Mother’s cooking. Father’s stories.”

Gunho’s eyes shone in the dark, and tears slipped out as he went on.

“The other boys here aren’t like my friends. No one laughs or tells jokes. The food isn’t yummy and the stories are boring.”

Yunho pulled Gunho closer. He understood. Gunho didn’t really wanted to get adopted, he just wanted to feel like he was in a family again.

This orphanage wasn’t a family, it was a prison.

With each day that passed that first month of spring, Yunho expected the weight on his heart when he awoke every morning to be gone.

But his parents were still dead, and he still didn’t know why, and he was still stuck in this prison doing the same things every day.

Their bed neighbour packed up and left at the end of the second week. He was adopted by a nice old woman and sent out to the countryside.

Yunho didn’t envy him, but Gunho mumbled something about playing out in the sun. He had to admit, living in the countryside with a nice old woman was better than spending every day here.

Lessons weren’t difficult, but then again, Yunho had attended one of the top academies in the kingdom for most of his life. Gunho sometimes struggled with his arithmetic, and Yunho always sat with him at the window and helped him study.

To tell the truth, he wasn’t sure what use arithmetic would be to either of them when all they did was sit around this awful rectangular box called an orphanage.

With their relatively kind bed neighbour gone, Yunho felt the atmosphere in their bedroom change.

There was a tall boy, well built, with a scar on his forehead and short cropped hair who was always staring at Gunho when his back was turned.

He warned Gunho one night to stay away, but there weren’t many places to hide that the bigger boys didn’t know about.

Sure enough, he came back from his free hour one day to see Gunho laying on the bed, crying.

Somewhere between the sobs and gently rubbing his brother’s spine, he heard that the bigger boys had been name calling. Yunho had half a mind to chew them out for it but he knew he’d be in trouble for starting a fight unprovoked, and he wasn’t entirely sure he could take them all anyway.

Nights of laying and trying to picture his mother’s face became nights of plotting revenge for Gunho.

Still, he was helpless to do anything until he came in a couple of days later and found Gunho with a black eye.

He brought him straight to the headmaster’s office.

“And who is it that did this, you say?”

Yunho opened his mouth to answer and realised he didn’t even know the boy’s name.

“If you can’t give me a name, I’m afraid nothing can be proven.”

The indifference with with the headmaster delivered the news was infuriating.

“We can point him out to you!” Yunho was desperate, pulling Gunho forward and presenting his bruised face as evidence. “Look what he did to Gunho, you can’t just let it slide!”

The headmaster put down his reading and gave Yunho a stern look. “I’m the headmaster, I can do whatever I please. Now, out of my office. Come back when you can prove it.”

Yunho was in a sour mood for the rest of his classes. It rained that night, and he lay awake wondering what it would take to get out of this place.

There was a small mercy in the morning when they were all allowed to play outside in their free hour. Gunho was happy to roll around the grass and Yunho could supervise.

The scar face boy made the mistake of walking over.

“What do you want?” Yunho muttered, trying to stand as tall as he could. He was tall for his age, but this bully was taller.

“I don’t like snitches,” the boy sneered at him and motioned for his two friends to grab Gunho. Yunho sprung to his little brother’s side but bounced off one of the goons.

“How did you even find out?” He grabbed the scar face boy by the collar, face growing hot with anger.

“Doesn’t matter. But if you try it again, you’re going to pay.”

Threatening finished, the scar face boy shoved Yunho off of him and made to leave. The other two released a shaking Gunho.

Yunho made it to steps before the scar face boy turned back around. His face gave Yunho pause. Gone was the cool indifference he had been intimidating him with before. Now, he looked angry.

“What did you say to me?”

He made for Gunho, landing a solid kick to his face before the boy could even answer.

“Hey!”

Yunho screamed and tackled the boy as he raised his foot to do it again.

In a flash of fists, he was on top. He didn’t feel the odd blow to his ear or his throat, solely focused on punching the bully while he had him pinned and startled.

He didn’t spare one thought as to what Gunho could have said to make the boy turn around and kick him so violently.

Yunho slammed the boy’s head into the mud and boxed him harder, disregarding the crack that filled his ears.

He punched and punched and punched until his energy began to wane. He didn’t notice that the scar face boy was covered with blood or that he wasn’t fighting back anymore or that Gunho was crying nearby and someone was trying to pull him off.

When he ran out of steam, he let himself be dragged off and dumped in the grass. The red cleared from his eyes and he recognised the caretaker that was shaking him by the shoulders and yelling at him.

Yunho ignored her and looked for Gunho. Gunho was crying on the grass nearby, but he looked like he would be alright.

His eyes shifted to the bloody mess he had just been pummeling.

The boy wasn’t moving.

Chapter Text

Yunho tried not to flinch at the slap delivered across his face. It stung, but the image of that bloody body, unmoving in the dirt, stung worse.

He knew he deserved it for what he did to the scar face boy, but the contempt in the headmaster’s eyes was solid proof that he had lost the only potential ally in this orphanage. Probably forever. His earlier mercy on that first day was forgotten.

It was several moments before steam stopped coming out of his ears and the man finally spoke.

“I’m moving you to the delinquents room in the south wing.”

Yunho looked up at him in shock.

“But you said we wouldn’t be separated—“

“I said you would not be separated if you didn’t cause trouble,” the headmaster was quick to cut him off. “You’ve only been here a month and already you’re starting fights.”

Yunho shook his head and began to plead. The composure he had maintained thus far was thrown out the window when it came to Gunho.

“But I didn’t start it, the boy attacked Gunho first! And he threatened him before, I tried to tell you!”

“Silence! Speak without permission again and I’ll hand you over to the jailhouse instead. They won’t be so forgiving there.”

Yunho’s mouth clicked shut. He was completely helpless again. With his bare hands, he had destroyed everything he had built in the past month. Everything he had done to try to feel normal again.

And worse, he didn’t even know if the scar face boy was alive.

Yunho was roughly escorted back to the east wing to pack up his things.

Gunho sat on his bed and sobbed, begging him not to go. It rent his heart in two because he wanted more than anything to stay, but there was nothing that could be done. The headmaster’s word was final.

That first night in the delinquents room, he pulled the blankets over his head and tried not to cry.

Gunho was sleeping alone without him, and the scar face boy’s friends were probably waiting to finish what he started.

No one would listen to a word out of Yunho’s mouth.

“No one’s going to adopt you now.”

Yunho looked up from where he had been staring across the great hall at Gunho and met eyes with the boy that was looking at him.

“What do you mean?”

“You’re in the delinquents room,” the boy said matter of factly. “Adopters don’t even glance in our direction.”

Yunho sighed and swallowed a tasteless bite of breakfast. He had figured as much, and it didn’t bother him as much as it ought to. He hadn’t wanted to be considered for adoption anyway.

“There is hope for your brother, though,” the boy went on, mouth full of food and paying no mind to it. “He seems nice and if he masters the pitiful orphan act, he has a chance.”

It was a passing remark from a stranger but it made Yunho’s heart skip a beat, because he was right.

There was a chance that Gunho might be adopted.

He had expressed interest, however briefly, and he was younger, cuter, quieter... not to mention that he didn’t have a delinquency record.

He could very easily be adopted and leave Yunho behind.

As Gunho gazed back at him longingly from the other side of the room, Yunho knew there was no way Gunho would let himself be permanently separated from his older brother.

But perhaps he wouldn’t have a choice.

“My name’s Sangwoo by the way.”

Again Yunho was drawn from the depths of his thoughts to rest his attention on the boy who was talking to him.

“Yunho,” he responded simply. It was hard to tell if this boy was actually being friendly or if he was just pretentious and couldn’t keep his nose out of other people’s business.

He wasn’t willing to toe the line more than he already had with this character. He looked older and bigger and the older boys were intimidating.

“I know,” Sangwoo said cheerfully. “All the others are talking about you.”

Yunho’s eyebrows shot up at this and he peeked at the rest of the delinquents table. “Really?”

“Of course! You’ve only been here a month and you beat another orphan within an inch of his life.”

The fact that Sangwoo and the other teenagers were impressed by this flew over Yunho’s head. “...He’s alive?”

Sangwoo shrugged and returned to his meal. “No one knows. He was moved to a hospital, though, so that means he wasn’t already dead when you finished with him at least.”

Yunho sighed with relief and sat back. It wasn’t a definitive answer but it was better than the bloody image ingrained in his mind alone.

“Your technique could use some work,” Sangwoo was saying. “But then again, you’re, what? Nine?”

“Eight, actually,” Yunho corrected him, ears burning red with embarrassment. He wasn’t hungry for breakfast anymore. 

“And that boy was at least two years older than you, not to mention bigger, so well done for a first fight,” Sangwoo smiled at him. Something in that smile loosened Yunho and he decided to keep talking to him.

“How old are you, exactly?”

“Twelve. My voice hasn’t dropped yet but when it does, I’m going to read scary stories to the little kids,” he winked at him and Yunho frowned back.

“I’m not a little kid.”

“No, you’re not,” Sangwoo agreed, reaching over and ruffling Yunho’s crazy mop of hair. “You wouldn’t be scared, would you?”

Yunho shook his head resolutely.

“I was, at your age,” Sangwoo hummed, more serious now. Like he was remembering something Yunho didn’t know about.

“Did...something scary happen to you at my age?” Yunho’s voice was barely above a whisper, but Sangwoo’s nod indicated that he had heard it.

“My whole life has been a scary story,” came the quiet whisper.

Yunho didn’t get to ask him about it until that night as soon as the caretakers left. He wrapped his blanket around himself and padded over to Sangwoo’s bed.

The two sat there picking at stray threads while Sangwoo told him his life story.

Abandoned as an infant, in and out of orphanages and workhouses— even jail at one point.

“That’s because I stole a matchbox,” Sangwoo chuckled. “I didn’t use it for anything other than a light to read by, but they thought I was going to burn the orphanage down.”

His expression tightened into a grave mask as he entered his preteen years. “A family adopted me. Except it wasn’t because they liked me, they just wanted me to work for them.”

Sangwoo sighed and picked harder at the blanket. “They were downright abusive. And then they had the gall to return me and adopt someone else. I swore never to be adopted again after that.”

Yunho swallowed. So that was what awaited Gunho should he be chosen.

“What are you planning to do, then?” He asked when there was a pause in the hushed conversation. “What choice is there, apart from adoption?”

“As soon as you’re of age, they release you. Then you go out into the world and... try to make a living, I guess.”

“Without an apprenticeship? Or any inheritance whatsoever?” Yunho remembered from his lessons at the Academy how important these things were.

Sangwoo simply smirked at him. “There are other ways to become someone. As long as you can fend for yourself, you’ll be fine.”

As long as you can fend for yourself.

Yunho had what it took. He had the blind anger at the world that could be concentrated into pure power. He had the cleverness to survive from each meal to the next. But what skills he possessed had yet to be honed. There was something he still needed.

“Sangwoo, will you teach me?”

Through the low light of the lantern sitting between them, Yunho saw Sangwoo smile and nod.

“You’ll become even better than me.”

Chapter Text

“Gunho, you’re not even listening to me.”

“Yes I am,” Gunho whined back, lowering his voice when Yunho shot him a warning glance. It was just after midnight exactly a year after arriving at the orphanage, and Yunho and Gunho had become accustomed to sneaking around at night in order to meet each other unsupervised.

Tonight they huddled in one of the larger food pantries while Yunho tried to show a bored Gunho some self defence moves.

“No you weren’t, you were nodding off,” Yunho argued back. “Come on, what would you rather be doing?”

Gunho pouted at him and flopped over. “I just want to check on Mousey and make sure he didn’t get caught in a trap. He wanders off if I’m not watching him.”

“Mousey?” Yunho deadpanned. “I thought I told you to bring him outside and let him go.” The orphanage was not a very good place to keep pets, especially rodents that may or may not be carrying diseases.

“But it’s cold out there,” Gunho whispered sadly. “I don’t want him to freeze.”

The two of them bickered similarly most nights, so much so that Yunho was worried about the fact that they were becoming so different from each other.

Gunho argued Yunho was growing too harsh and so Yunho told him to keep him soft, a charge that was easier said than done, especially when Yunho was practically living a double life.

“It was warm enough for Sangwoo to sneak out and come back with snacks—“

“Sangwoo, Sangwoo, Sangwoo,” Gunho singsonged. “He’s all you ever talk about.”

“Well, you’re all I talk about when I’m with him,” Yunho spluttered defensively.

“So he’s part of our family now?” Gunho crossed his arms and glared at him. “I thought we weren’t getting adopted.”

“It’s not like that,” Yunho sighed, putting his hands out in a placating gesture. “We have to stick together with the older boys, adopting couples can’t be trusted. You heard what they did to Sangwoo. It’s better to be a part of the orphan family.”

“Well, maybe I don’t want to be a part of this family anymore,” Gunho spat in return, getting to his feet and running back to his room.

Yunho called after him quietly but closed his mouth when footsteps from the opposite end of the hall grew closer. Instead, he closed himself back in and sat among sausage links and fruit crates until the late night wanderer passed by.

They had never fought this bad before.

It was always gentle Gunho and his quiet complaints as he tried to keep up with all the fighting techniques Yunho was showing him.

When the hall had been quiet for long enough, Yunho snuck back into bed, stomach tied in a knot and tears threatening.

What was he doing wrong?

...

“Your stance is weak. Fix your footing.”

Yunho blinked away a daydream and turned his ankle until it was the way it was in the correct position.

“Better,” Sangwoo said with a nod. He was usually quite a blunt teacher, so this amount of encouragement from him meant something was up.

“You seem different,” Yunho grunted, throwing a punch that was dodged. “What’s going on?”

“It’s not me, it’s you,” Sangwoo responded, dodging again. “You’re distracted by something.”

So he was accommodating to Yunho’s mood.

Yunho’s surprise left him vulnerable to a kick that he barely avoided.

“Gunho is just cranky these days,” he admitted. No point in holding onto it. “We’ve been growing apart and there’s just—“ he blocked a right hook. “—not much I can do about it.”

“I see,” Sangwoo hummed, throwing up a hand to pause for a water break. “That’s bound to happen when you’re separated, even if you’re just across the hall from each other.”

Yunho nodded in defeat. At this rate, he and Gunho would be strangers by the time he could age out of the orphanage.

“There might be a way for you to meet each other without sneaking around, though,” Sangwoo offered, handing him a cup of water to go with it. “The royal family is travelling here to give a speech at the festival. Probably about the riots that have been going on the past couple of years.”

“My parents died in one of those,” Yunho admitted quietly. He surprised even himself, considering he hadn’t spoken about it since the event, a year of quiet anger and disbelief. “They weren’t even participating, they just happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time.”

Sangwoo rubbed his back gently and muttered some words of encouragement. “Well, if it won’t distress you too much, some of the orphans here have been invited to see the processions. Kind of ironic, if you ask me.”

“Why’s that?” Yunho asked, shaking himself out of his musings.

Sangwoo lowered his voice like he was sharing the juiciest new gossip. “The King is hardly ever seen with his own children. The crown prince rarely makes public appearances, always off doing something or other in the military ranks, and some of the caretakers think it’s because he’s out of favour with his parents. Then there’s the younger prince who never makes public appearances at all. Word has it he’s deformed, some congenital malformation of the limbs. So they keep him hidden away in the palace.”

“Trapped,” Yunho nodded in sympathy. “Sort of like us.”

“Well, at least he’s trapped in luxury and riches,” Sangwoo laughed. “Imagine having servants to do whatever you tell them.”

“And every gourmet chef at your call to cook some delicacy for you!” Yunho chimed in with a smile.

“The most exquisite fashion in your wardrobe and all kinds of balls and parties to wear it to!”

“Grand gardens and greenhouses to explore!”

“Prize horses to ride through the country!”

“Swimming pool-sized bathtubs with rose petals!”

“An ancient library and the best tutors money can buy for education!”

“A golden crown on your head and a floor so shiny you can see yourself in it!”

“And the King and Queen as your parents, tucking you into a warm, comfortable bed every night!”

Yunho paused at this and tilted his head pensively. “Well, I’d rather not have the King and Queen as my parents. Mine were really great.”

“Mine too,” Sangwoo conceded. “And any parents that hide you because they don’t like how you look aren’t fit to be parents.”

Yunho hummed in agreement and then considered Sangwoo’s proposal. “I can bring Gunho if I go with you?”

Sangwoo nodded.

“Alright then. It’ll be nice to get out of this place for a little while.”

...

Just as planned, Sangwoo, Yunho, and Gunho were all present on the day of the parade. They stood inside the headmaster’s office with a chosen few of seven other boys, dressed nicer than they ever had been before, awkwardly waiting for their ride to arrive while the caretakers went around fixing their hair and straightening their posture.

Gunho was uncomfortable around Sangwoo, having never properly met the boy other than through Yunho’s stories and lessons.

Yunho was a much better student for Sangwoo than Gunho was for him, but the point of this trip was to try to spend some time with his brother outside of the orphanage for once, so he did his best to smile confidently at him and ease the atmosphere.

“Remember you absolutely must be on your best behaviour,” the Headmaster cautioned them. “Show the utmost respect to the royal family at all times. Smile and bow when you’re told to.”

As they sat in the back of a cart and watched the trees and houses go by, Sangwoo wiggled out of his tie when the caretakers weren’t looking and tossed it out onto the road. “This is stupid. Dressing us up like a bunch of dolls and showing us off as if they haven’t been overworking and underfeeding the lot of us.”

Yunho agreed verbally but couldn’t help but revel in how shiny his shoes were and how happy Gunho looked bouncing in his seat.

“It’s alright Sangwoo,” he encouraged the older boy. “You’ll be out of the orphanage in no time.”

“Mark my words,” Sangwoo muttered. “I will.”

The streets were crowded and bursting with energy, people standing to one side or another and tripping over each other for a good vantage point.

The group of orphans and their caretakers stood in the square where the parade was set to end. Yunho didn’t really understand why there was a whole entire parade involved in the harvest festival until he was told that the King was supposedly coming to address the riots, but sparing no expense seemed like something the royal family would do anyway.

They were indeed as grand as he had imagined they would be, waving with pleasant smiles and sparkling jewels.

Their attire was probably toned down from the usual splendour a palace celebration would afford, but it was still more beautiful than Yunho had ever seen.

The King’s voice was mellifluous yet strong and he drew the crowd in with his promises and his apologies before grounding them with admonition.

“I know why the people are in chaos here,” he said in a commanding tone. “And I assure you, the royal family and our enforcers have your best interests at heart. Focus now on your harvests and your families. Celebrate the season together and leave this unrest behind you!”

Mixed reactions were had among the crowd but the King’s own men got the festivities in full gear quickly enough with fireworks, music, and traditional foods.

It was the most fun Yunho had had in a long time, even if he didn’t understand half of what the King was saying.

In the chaos and colour of the parade, Yunho lost sight of Sangwoo. The caretakers headcounted the boys as they collected them, but he was nowhere to be found.

“Must have made a run for it,” one of them said to another as they loaded the orphans in the back of the cart. Night was swiftly falling, the royal family had gone, and the continuing frolic was likely to take a turn for the wild with the cover of darkness. “No use looking for him.”

Yunho shuddered and held Gunho close the rest of the ride back.

“I’m sorry about what I said that night,” Gunho whispered, leaning his head against his brother’s shoulder. “I didn’t mean it.” There was still some coloured dust stuck to him and it made him want to sneeze.

Yunho petted his hair to communicate that he understood. It was hard for Gunho these days, without Yunho to help him through school and with bullies breathing down his neck at every turn.

“And about Sangwoo... I’m sorry for that, too,” Gunho added even more quietly.

Tears stung Yunho’s eyes. “I should’ve expected him to run with the way he was talking earlier,” he admitted, a touch of bitterness in his voice. “It was the perfect opportunity.”

“I think he’ll be back,” Gunho chirped optimistically. “He’s always ended up back at the orphanage, if all your stories about him are true.”

Yunho’s smile was wistful. “I just wish he would’ve told us so we could go with him.”

“And leave Mousey behind?” Gunho gasped, eyes shining innocently. Yunho chuckled and dried his own unshed tears.

He thanked Sangwoo, wherever he was, for bringing him and his brother back together, however short lived.

“Don’t worry, we won’t leave Mousey behind,” he sighed, turning to face his brother fully. “But whatever happens, I’m going to get us out for good one day.”

Chapter Text

Yunho’s tenth birthday was the day things changed.

Sangwoo hadn’t returned yet, despite the passage of winter, and while for Gunho he was only a distant thought, Yunho still spent afternoons looking out the window and wondering when he would turn up.

His absence didn’t mean training stopped however, and Yunho would square up against bags of flour if he had to, he needed to be in shape. He needed to get out of here.

The orphanage didn’t believe in birthdays, or at least they didn’t celebrate them, which meant yet another secret pantry meeting to spend time with Gunho.

“I have to confess something,” Gunho whispered, candlelight casting a strange shadow on his face. He was oddly withdrawn, only hesitantly partaking in the secret birthday feast with his brother.

“No you don’t,” Yunho chucked nervously. “Let’s just relax and eat rice cakes.”

“But...” Gunho bit his lip and looked away, and after that Yunho knew it was serious. “I was going to give you something for your birthday.”

“What do you mean?” Yunho pressed quietly. “You don’t need to get me anything. It would probably be confiscated anyway.”

“It already was,” Gunho whispered, rubbing his eyes. “Mother’s music box. I was going to give it to you in case they move me to another room or someone adopts me—”

“What are you talking about?” Yunho asked slowly after gasping at the news. “You can’t be adopted, not without me...”

“We don’t know that,” Gunho snapped back. “I just think Mother would want you to have it, so I was going to give it to you, but the caretakers saw it and they took it away.”

Yunho sat back, astonished. “Well... where is it?”

Gunho finally met his eyes and winced at what he was about to say. “In the headmaster’s office.”

Yunho went quiet for a minute.

“Forget about it,” Gunho eventually sighed when he received no response. “When personal objects go in there, they don’t come back out. It’s probably a lost cause.”

“No, it isn’t!” Yunho cut him off, a sly smile spreading on his face. “Let’s sneak in and get it back!”

Gunho paled at the very idea. “But we could be caught...”

“What’s the worst they can do? Put you in the delinquent room?”

As soon as it left his lips, Yunho regretted saying it.

It was true, he wanted company in his lonely wing of the orphanage. With Sangwoo gone, hardly anyone ever talked to him. But dooming Gunho to join him in his unfortunate fate...

Maybe it was better if he broke the rules alone.

“Never mind. You just keep watch and make some excuses with that baby face of yours if you have to,” Yunho chuckled, getting to his feet. “I’ll take care of this.”

As he slipped out of the pantry and towards the headmaster’s office, Gunho whined after him, “I don’t have a baby face!”

Gunho wasn’t joking when he said objects couldn’t return from the study. The moment Yunho silently crept into the office, he understood why.

The stern headmaster’s desk was frustratingly devoid of not only their mother’s music box, but any stolen items at all. Yunho opened every drawer and even shook the massive thing to see if secret compartments would reveal themselves, but nothing worked.

All the trunks and bookcases yielded the same empty results, and soon Yunho was beginning to wonder if it was time to give up. He was tiring and becoming less alert to potential caretakers that might walk in on him.

Inspecting the paintings that hung on the walls, he suddenly realised one of them was no painting at all, but actually a secret door. The portrait pushed open at his touch, and the giddy, adventurous feeling that bloomed inside left no room for hesitation, so he entered the short tunnel quietly.

It only took three or four steps in the dark before he arrived at a dimly lit room, so large and spacious that he had to tilt his head to see the ceiling. It was solid, imposing stone with only the faint glow of fading torches to warm its cold walls, and Yunho suppressed a shiver as he took in the grand room.

Piled all around were objects— blankets, toys, articles of clothing, various items of jewellery, occasional furniture, and even game pieces. Anything that might have sentimental value was gathered here.

At first, Yunho was horrified. What kind of person would steal from his charges for so many years that he had to hide a collection of their things piled so high they couldn’t see the top?

And then, he was excited. While it tinged his melancholy to rifle through treasure that didn’t belong to him, he was in search of one very important item that did.

The morning sun was gently brushing the rooftops in the city by the time he located it, atop an empty shell of a suitcase and a worn infant blanket.

Playing the song back once and letting the sweet tinkling of the familiar tune fill his ears, he slipped out of the secret room without incident, and presented a beaming Gunho with his prize.

Gunho squeezed him in a hug so tight, it brought tears to Yunho’s eyes, and he watched with a fond smile as his brother played the tune back again for the hundredth time.

It hit Yunho in the face that day with all the subtlety of a royal parade.

Gunho was growing up.

...

Their borrowed happiness together didn’t last longer than the summer, however, with the disappearance of Gunho’s treasured mouse friend.

Yunho was much less motivated to search the halls at night for the grimy little creature, especially as sickness began to sweep through the city.

One of the boys in Gunho’s room came down with the fever, and a week later, three more had contracted it. Mousey was caught and exterminated with all the other rats responsible for spreading disease.

By mid-autumn, Gunho himself was showing signs of illness and Yunho was tearing his hair out looking for a way to help him.

Sangwoo hadn’t come back and most likely wasn’t going to. It had been almost exactly a year since his escape, which meant Yunho needed to take things into his own hands.

Still, he found himself helplessly fighting the caretakers with tears streaming down his cheeks as they refused to let him into his brother’s room to see him.

“No one is allowed in,” the woman told him sternly, struggling to avoid his fists while keeping him out. “It’s for your own safety.”

“Please,” Yunho sobbed, sinking through their arms to the floor as his strength gave out. “Please, my brother needs me—”

“You’ll get sick,” the second caretaker argued, like that was any deterrent.

“I don’t care,” Yunho cried bitterly. He was tired of fighting them. “You can’t do this.”

If he couldn’t stand up to a couple of exhausted caretakers, he wasn’t ready at all for the real world.

But it didn’t matter anymore. Nothing was being done for Gunho or any of the sick children. The adults were too afraid to help them and risk their own safety and whether he was prepared or not, if Yunho didn’t escape with Gunho now, his chances of survival were looking slimmer by the moment.

And so he resigned himself.

With nothing but a bag of pantry food and a music box, he waited until the dead of night and slipped the bag under the fence.

Gunho’s room was guarded, but the man keeping watch had been there for a few hours and looked moments away from nodding off, so Yunho forced himself to be patient.

He could see Gunho’s motionless form stretched out beside the other sick boys on the floor. No one was attending them, and it made Yunho’s blood boil.

The second the caretaker’s head hit his chest, Yunho silently entered the room and tried to shake his brother awake.

Gunho was feverish and, for a moment, unresponsive, and it brought Yunho’s heart to his throat for the terrifying pause before his brother’s eyes focused on him.

“Wha—?”

“Quiet!” Yunho hushed him and began scooping him up, pressing a hand to his mouth should he make any more noise on the way out.

“Where are we going?” Gunho finally mumbled as soon as they safely left the building. Yunho squeezed under the fence, collecting his bag, and motioned for Gunho to do the same. With some help, he managed to wriggle through without injury to himself and climbed onto Yunho’s back for the long walk into town.

“We’re leaving this place for good.”

The world was out there, and anything was better than the cage they’d been stuck in.

Chapter Text

Harsh winds gusted down from the mountains and Yunho could feel them in his bones.

Everything was sore from walking and carrying his entire life with him, but his numb fingers were locked around Gunho, even as his weight seemed to grow more and more with every step.

He wasn’t sure where he was going, but he knew which path led back to town so he pushed forward with everything inside him. The night was deepening and the winds were growing colder, and even the claw-like branches of empty trees against the pale moon did their best to stop Yunho in his tracks.

“I’m freezing,” Gunho sniffled pathetically into his shoulder. He sounded much younger than he was and the sickness had ruined his voice, making him difficult to hear.

“I know,” Yunho told him, lying easily just to help him hold on a bit longer. “We’re almost there.”

He had no idea how close they were.

Eventually, the trees surrounding them became more familiar and an identifiable landmark appeared on the horizon.

A marking stone, one that indicated an intersection.

“Home is this way,” Yunho said aloud, hoping for a response to let him know Gunho was awake, but nothing came.

Unsure where else to go, he made his way across the fields to the street where he knew their old estate still stood, owned by the King and repurposed as whatever he used it for.

The town was quiet, even more hushed and closed down than it usually was at night, but a few lights were on in the windows, including the window Yunho used to gaze out of in his bedroom.

Clearly the house was bigger now and more ornate, with a scary looking gate in front. Sighing and redistributing Gunho’s weight, he walked through it and up to the door and knocked.

A frazzled looking woman opened the doors a few moments later and blinked at them in surprise. “Children?” She remarked, glancing past them down the street. “Where are your parents?”

“We need help,” Yunho said quickly, veering away from that question. If he answered honestly, they’d end up right back at the orphanage. “It’s very cold, could we come in and speak to whoever is in charge?”

Convinced by his professionalism beyond his years and the little boy passed out on his back, the woman let Yunho through and instructed him to sit on some floor cushions in the waiting area, where he lay Gunho down next to him.

The interior of the house was completely different. It seemed like everything homey and warm had been replaced from the floors to the colour of the walls to the furniture to the layout of the rooms.

With surprise, as Yunho read the signs above the doors, he began to realise what the place had become.

“They turned our house into a government building?” Gunho’s voice cracked as he turned his head around and squinted at their surroundings.

“You’re awake!” Yunho gasped, a bit too loudly for the formal space and sleepy adults scattered throughout various rooms.

“Excuse me,” a man’s sharp voice reached them from the end of the hall where he and the woman from before stood, staring at them. “Who are you and what do you want?”

“My brother is sick,” Yunho began to explain, getting to his feet and bowing respectfully though Gunho was still too drowsy to follow his lead.

This man was a council official of some kind and it would be a bad idea to offend him.

“We just need somewhere to stay while he recovers, and there was a maid here once named Jaein who promised to help us, so I was wondering if—”

“Don’t come any closer!” The man cautioned with an outstretched hand. “You say the boy is ill? What are his symptoms? I’m sure you’re aware that disease is spreading like wildfire through So-ai.”

“Well, yes,” Yunho stuttered nervously. “He caught some type of sickness and he’s feverish, but no one else will help him...”

“I’m sorry, but you must leave at once,” the official told him immediately. “We will not risk the plague’s spread in the magistrate’s office.”

Yunho’s frustration doubled and he walked closer, appealing to the woman who had been sympathetic earlier. “Please, we don’t know where else to go, can’t you at least tell us where Jaein went?”

“Visit the medicine man in upper Hagilsan,” she sighed, glancing at the apprehensive official as if communicating silently. “He has herbs that may help your brother.”

“And Jaein, I believe, moved to the archipelago,” the man followed up briskly. “Now, you have your answers, please vacate the premises. Without touching anything.”

Yunho obeyed after several bows of thanks and scooped up a drifting Gunho as well as the single bag they’d brought with them, venturing out into the cold again and looking for somewhere to regroup.

The best they could do was an alleyway behind a teahouse where the greenery at least provided some shelter from the winds.

“Remember that time we came here with Mother and Father?” Yunho asked, trying to keep Gunho awake and aware. “And you got lost in the topiary garden?”

Gunho hummed in acknowledgement, eyes cracked just enough to take in his surroundings.

“I need to find the medicine man first, but I don’t think it’s a good idea to bring you along,” Yunho finally sighed, laying out the single blanket he’d stolen when he stole his sick brother from the orphanage and lowering Gunho onto it.

“But I—”

“You’ll be just fine, I promise,” Yunho insisted through the huskiness in his voice. “Just stay here and stay warm, alright?”

Gunho’s eyes shone with fear for himself and his brother, but he nodded regretfully and curled up into a ball. The steam coming through the window eased his tension, and his eyes began to drift shut again.

Knowing it would tempt him to stay the longer he lingered, Yunho made his way back out through the alley and turned northwest to the hills.

Dawn was streaking the sky with greyish strands by the time he reached the hut, exhausted and shivering uncontrollably.

The “closed for business, out of medicine” sign on the door made Yunho’s heart stop for a moment but a candle was on inside and he knew the man could hear him.

“Please, I need help!” He screamed, pounding his fists on the rickety door. “I know you’re in there, please let me in and listen to me!”

The attempts went on for some time before Yunho stepped back and peered into the covered window where the light of the candle was leaking out.

Sure enough, a doctor was there at the table, an empty plate in front of him and his head in his hands.

Angrily, Yunho knocked on the glass and repeated his pleas to no avail. It was if the medicine man simply did not want to hear.

Just like the caretakers at the orphanage and the adults at the office, they would rather allow children to die en masse than put themselves at risk.

A wave of hopelessness crashed over him and he could only stumble away, outraged, and look for something to break in with.

As Yunho’s eyes fell on a large rock in the man’s extensive garden, he noticed a few other items of interest as well.

“Herbs...”

They were the type that could heal if mixed correctly, and while Yunho didn’t know the first thing about herbal remedies, Gunho had always been interested in plants.

Climbing over the fence and hurriedly pocketing two of every type of plant he found, Yunho worked quickly and turned back to the mountain path, aiming to arrive at the teahouse before the sun broke through the bushes and woke Gunho.

The sky was lighter on his return, but thankfully Gunho was breathing and mercifully asleep. Yunho gently rubbed his back until he came to, not saying a word as his brother first fed him some bread and then pulled bunches of herbs and roots out of his pockets and held them out.

“Gunho, do you recognise any of these? Do you think any could bring down your fever?”

The younger boy frowned in thought and looked more closely before gasping and taking a few in his own hands. “This ginger... you could make a tea out of it and some honeysuckle and perhaps elderflower... or you could try a soup of the garlic and coriander seeds. If only we had bone broth or cinnamon bark.”

“Just tell me what to do,” Yunho said with a comforting smile, immediately grateful they had chosen to seek shelter behind a teahouse of all places. Gunho didn’t chide him as he broke in through the window and snatched a few more supplies and key ingredients.

Gunho was growing tired again, instructing Yunho how to make remedies and drinking them despite the bitter taste.

“It’s alright, just sleep,” his older brother soothed, placing a towel soaked in rice water on his forehead. There were signs of activity in the rooms above the teahouse, so it would be best to stay quiet for awhile and hope they weren’t discovered and sent away.

Yunho had no more faith in the adults of So-ai.

He slept on and off that first day, eating no more than a few nibbles of bread smeared with a paste he made from the herbs Gunho didn’t need. All he could do was wait for the fever to break and hope the shop owner wouldn’t notice a few missing bowls and his pestle.

The second day, Gunho seemed to be doing better, but the unbridled cold was taking its toll on both of them and Yunho began to feel under the weather.

While Gunho focused on making more medicine, Yunho took to the streets to busy himself, digging through the garbage collected behind houses and shops, picking up the spare ratty blanket previously belonging to a sick person and any food that wasn’t spoiled.

On the third day, Gunho could walk and move around with some support, and it was time for the two of them to embrace the street life or make a plan.

There was one place the military hadn’t touched, where access was still available to all, so the brothers took the familiar walk to the university library, ducking their heads so the attendant wouldn’t recognise them, and holed up in the map section to find the archipelago.

“Remember when Father taught here?” Yunho commented quietly as he pulled atlases off a shelf, trying to cheer Gunho up. “He would let us play in his office as long as we didn’t break anything, and you always liked watching the students in the courtyard.”

Gunho nodded absently and flipped pages until reaching the eastern coast.

“Look how far away it is!” He groaned, falling back onto the carpet and covering his face with his hands. “We’ll never be able to walk there.”

Yunho took a closer look at all the marked routes and scratched his head. “I imagine most people ride horseback or drive carriages. If we want to take the safer main roads we’ll have to travel east to this city, Panhang, and from there follow the shoreline south until we can take a boat from Kon to the islands.”

He was very proud of his correct interpretation of the map, but his brother immediately started poking holes in his suggestion.

“But that doesn’t even tell us where Miss Jaein is,” Gunho whined from the floor. “It could be any of the nine islands with villages.”

“One problem a time,” Yunho said firmly, sitting back on his heels and formulating a plan. “We need money to travel. Even if we sneak into a caravan, we’ll have to pay for the boat and our food will run out soon. I hate to say it, but I don’t think we’re leaving So-ai for some time.”

Gunho lifted his head and eyed him carefully before sitting up and hugging his legs.

“I don’t want to steal,” he whispered, avoiding his gaze and staring intently at the map. “I know that’s the fastest way to get money, but I just can’t do it.”

He was still pure and untainted despite everything he had been through, and Yunho wanted to continue to protect him, to shelter him from those deeds.

“We’re too young to work for pay,” Yunho reminded him gently. “One of us has to steal.”

Suddenly, he remembered Sangwoo’s words back at the orphanage. Gunho had a baby face, he could use that to his advantage.

“How about this,” Yunho lowered his voice and moved closer. “You can take up a street corner and ask passersby for food and coins. There aren’t many beggars here, which means less competition, so I’m willing to bet it will work.”

“But I’m just a child,” Gunho pointed out. “What if they try to take me to the orphanage?”

“Tell them your parents are sick and unable to work,” Yunho supplied quickly, taking Gunho’s face in his hands and running a thumb over the lingering rash wounds on his cheeks. “Show them these scars and emphasise the fact that you recovered and are now the sole breadwinner, and it will work, I’m sure if it.”

Before Gunho could answer, the library attendant approached them, hands folded and eyes vacant behind his spectacles.

“I’m sorry, but we’re closing. All visitors must exit.”

Yunho drew back and held up the atlas. “Can we take this map?”

The man sighed and reached out to take it from him. “No, I’m sorry, without proof of enrolment in the university—”

“But our father used to work here!” Gunho interrupted before the attendant could get his hands on the book. “I’m sure you recognise us, we used to be here all the time!”

The man hesitated and then relaxed.

Already Gunho’s charms were paying off.

“Very well, I’ll loan it to you until next week, but a class comes in during the mornings so I’ll need it returned. Understood?”

Like perfect little angels, they nodded and skipped out of the library, taking the atlas with no intention of giving it back.

Without the warmth of the building protecting them, they could only leech off any steam that escaped the teahouse and attempt to make small fires of their own.

They snuggled up and shared body heat through the night, but while Gunho’s lingering exhaustion granted him sleep, Yunho could only lay awake and watch the stars, worrying that an early winter would put a damper on their progress.

There was no time to lose, so as soon as the birds were stirring Yunho shook his brother awake and prepared a quick meal of broth for both of them, hiding the bowls and any remains of the fire in the garden with their blanket and setting up shop near the treasury.

“Let’s hope several sympathetic rich people come by today,” Yunho tried to joke, rubbing Gunho’s arms comfortingly when he shivered and rubbed his nose. “I’ll be out looking for food and things to sell, alright? If anything goes wrong, meet me at the teahouse.”

And quickly, they eased into a routine. Gunho would change spots every few days, begging outside the government building and the university during the week and then moving to the town square in the busy mealtime hours. He was reluctant but smart about his tactics, unafraid to put on a show and act younger than he was.

Steadily but slowly, he collected coins for their travel fund, while Yunho watched the street like a hawk, memorising the residents’ schedules and sneaking in when their houses were empty. He tried to steal food from those with excess who wouldn’t notice anything was missing, but two weeks into his new day job, it was becoming difficult to find enough to provide for them.

Dinner was a measly slice of bread, torn in half and shared between them, and partially rotten fruit Yunho gave to Gunho.

“Is it enough yet?” Gunho asked hopefully as he handed over the day’s earnings.

“No,” Yunho told him honestly. “But we’re getting closer,” he encouraged quickly, trying to boost morale. Gunho didn’t need to know how far they still were from their goal.

“I’m still hungry.”

“Well, this is all we have today,” Yunho sighed. “It’s more important that we find water, so I wasn’t able to get much food.”

Gunho shivered again and nodded, laying down without another word and stroking the music box longingly. They couldn’t play it or the teahouse owner might hear.

The crunchy leaves they used as pillows were crumbling into dust, and Yunho knew what that meant.

We have to get out of here before the snows arrive.

Yunho had hit almost every house on the street before realising his method wasn’t sustainable. Sooner or later they would be discovered and blamed for the disappearance of certain foods and valuable items, even if they stayed away during the daytime.

Even the gracious gentlemen Gunho typically swindled would wonder why his worn nightgown still hadn’t been replaced with a shirt and trousers and where his supposedly sick parents were, since by now they should be dead or recovered.

While at the pawn shop selling a nice watch he had pickpocketed, another idea dawned on Yunho.

A faded deck of cards was tucked away into a corner with some other game pieces and before he handed over his goods, he pointed to it and asked how much it was worth.

“Five silvers,” the shopkeeper decided after humming in thought for a moment.

“I’ll trade three for it,” Yunho bartered back, and the man gave in quickly, not really desiring to hold on to the shrivelled deck.

Excited, Yunho passed over the coins and saved the watch for the card tables. He needed to learn every possible gamble and learn it well if he wanted his income to double— maybe even triple— without losing any money or valuables.

He sat in the tavern by the fire for as long as he could before the bar maid sent him away, observing the games that went on there and catching every trick the locals used.

He may not have paid much attention in school, but he was clever when his situation drove him to adapt, and by the arrival of the first snow he was ready to play.

Yunho approached a table of slightly inebriated university students and joined the game, putting the watch and a good chunk of the week’s silver into the pot.

In a scam he formulated by watching the rice field workers, he feigned defeat and got all three of his opponents to bet a significant amount before losing it all the moment he revealed his trump.

The students were shocked, but Yunho made off with their money before they could question it.

Feeling bad that he played games in the tavern while his brother begged in the snow, he hurried back to the teahouse and proudly displayed his earnings, handing over his coat and extra blanket and rubbing feeling back into Gunho’s limbs. His brother needed them more than he did.

“And it’s not even stealing!” He whispered excitedly. “They willingly handed it all over because they knew they’d been beat. You should come to the tavern tomorrow, I’ll show you some tricks and then we can both be making ludicrous amounts of money!”

Shyly, Gunho nodded before snuggling up as usual and watching the fire die down.

He’d been quieter than usual the past few weeks, and Yunho thought he knew why.

At least in the orphanage they’d been fed and clothed and sheltered from the cold. Now they could only dig holes in the snow and hope against hope that someone out there actually wanted them.

If Jaein said no, everything was pointless.

Yunho fought back tears and pulled his brother close. It was like hugging a sniffling ice block.

“We’ll be out of here soon, I promise.”

And Yunho didn’t break his promises.

When the weekend arrived, so did the wealthy customers, looking to unwind in the tavern and maybe bring home a few extra silvers.

For Yunho, the matter was a bit more life and death.

He managed to slip into a seat at a table of store owners, one of whom he recognised to be the teahouse owner. The man didn’t seem to know him, so he exhaled in relief before gambling away money he’d earned by selling some of the man’s own items.

Yunho put almost everything he had in the pot. If he lost, it would set them back until mid-spring, he knew, but if he won...

If he won, they could be out of there by tonight.

Anticipating his opponents’ moves and carefully calculating his own, Yunho again let them think they were winning before falling back on his favourite trick only to discover he’d been beaten at his own game.

The teahouse owner took the pot.

Yunho froze in his seat. It couldn’t end like this, he couldn’t let the man leave with all that money, everything he and Gunho worked for.

How could he face Gunho if he lost?

When the man finished the last drops of his drink and rose to return home, Yunho excused himself and made for the exit.

He knew the path the man would take and he knew a better shortcut.

Enraged, with hunger in his sunken eyes and hands itching for silver, Yunho waited in the shadows with a rock clutched in his sullied hand.

He was taking it all back.

The man didn’t know what hit him, slumping to the ground with a minor head wound and staying there while Yunho collected the entire bag of gold and rushed to the teahouse to collect Gunho.

While he shoved blankets and food into their shared bag, Yunho mapped out the fastest way to the coast and tried to consolidate their meagre belongings.

Gunho insisted on returning the cups and bowls to the teahouse owner, making him a pot of headache healing tea for good measure, and joined him as they sprinted through the night to the outpost at the main road.

It took until the moon was high, but a cart on its way to Panhang finally ambled down from the town in time for them to board it.

As he lifted Gunho up into the hay, Yunho caught sight of the beaming smile on his face and felt his own heart soar.

They were finally leaving So-ai, and soon the snow blowing through their hair would be far behind them.

It was a moment worth reliving.

And for one hopeful second, he had completely forgotten they were orphans.

Chapter Text

“I hope you boys have somewhere to stay the weekend in Panhang,” a voice broke into Yunho’s sleep, and he startled from his position slumped against Gunho to face the cart driver.

Oh, right. They had finally made it out.

“Why do you say that, sir?” He asked respectfully, pulling some hay out of his hair when it poked him as he went to rub his tired eyes. Gambling in the tavern all week when he should be in bed had worn him out.

“Because this cart stops there and returns to So-ai. So unless you want to be right back where you started, you’ll need to get off when we arrive in the morning,” the driver explained, turning around for a moment to make sure he’d been heard.

“But…” Yunho tried to argue, suddenly faced with the fact that he hadn’t made any arrangements and would once again be thinking on his feet. “But we’re trying to get to the archipelago, doesn’t this cart go to Kon?”

“No, young man, it does not. For that, you’ll have to hire a carriage that travels south,” the driver answered with finality, unable to be persuaded on the matter.

Yunho hadn’t been on a carriage since the day he left for the orphanage, and he knew even if they could afford one, no self-respecting driver would take on a pair of street rats.

So he invited himself into the front seat and tried a different angle. The sun was already rising and he didn’t have much time.

“Sir, do you have parents?”

The man gave him a quizzical glance before returning his gaze to the road. “No,” he admitted after a moment. “Not since they were claimed by the mountain.”

Not entirely sure what that meant, Yunho continued on anyway, “From one orphan to another, what sort of place is Panhang? Somewhere a couple of poor homeless children could survive and earn enough for the carriage you speak of?”

When the man eyed him knowingly for a moment, Yunho sat up straighter and did his best to look completely innocent. It was Gunho’s skill, but unfortunately he was still asleep in the back.

“The business of the city consists mostly of fishing and finance,” the driver finally said in a gruff voice. “There are a few wealthy families, but they keep to themselves and won’t be frequently seen in town, not when they can send servants instead. You’ll not be able to steal money off them.”

Yunho widened his eyes and feigned a gasp, acting shocked that the driver would mention such a thing when he and Gunho clearly only secured their funds through reputable and entirely legal means.

“And there’s already some competition between beggars,” the man continued, unfazed. “It’s a bigger town than So-ai. Any luck you had there will not guarantee you survival here. Not with winter blowing in.”

Yunho couldn’t help but pout as the distant rooftops finally came into view. He had never been outside his hometown in all his ten years of life, and the unfamiliar world on the horizon was intimidating.

He would need a new strategy, both here and wherever the road took them next.

But it was no matter; he didn’t fear what was to come. Jeong Yunho loved a good challenge.

___

“We picked the worst time to jump ship.”

Yunho crossed his arms to trap some body heat and sighed in response to yet another complaint from shivering Gunho.

“We didn’t exactly have a choice,” he reminded him, turning yet another street corner as they explored Panhang, looking for anything and everything that could be of use to them. “Can’t go back now.”

A stranger brushing past and jostling him forced Yunho to find a way out of the crowded market. “Let’s try the town hall,” he suggested, turning into the alcove where the stately building was located and hoping the officials hadn’t seen his tricks before elsewhere.

Before they could even open the door, another beggar sidled up to ask for change until he took stock of them and returned to his corner, knowing they wouldn’t share.

“The driver was right,” Yunho groaned, abandoning the idea until later. “It’s too crowded with beggars here, we’ll get no pity for being poor.”

“What about the tea house?” Gunho tried hopefully.

“We passed one a few streets back,” Yunho reminded him. “The owner is outside tending to the garden.”

“Could we afford the inn?” Gunho asked quietly, glancing at the place with longing eyes. “What money do we have left?”

“Half a bag of gold, a couple of silvers, and enough copper coins for one loaf of bread maybe ,” Yunho listed, honest despite not wanting to crush Gunho’s hopes. “It won’t get us lodgings. The most we could do is hire another cart back to So-ai, but that’s out of the question.”

“Well, why is it out of the question?” Gunho mumbled. “If this place is so unfriendly, then maybe it would be better to return…?”

Yunho ignored the comment, trying to avoid the same disagreement that had driven them apart at the orphanage. Gunho clung to what he knew out of habit and a sense of duty, even if it kept him in a dangerous situation, but Yunho was an escape artist, an adventurer, always moving on and up when he could and leaving the dark days of his past behind.

Even so, he refused to leave Gunho behind.

“You see that lighthouse there?” Yunho suggested, pointing past smoking chimneys they were barred access to and over to the seaside. “Let’s climb it for a better vantage point.”

There was really no denying him, so Gunho trailed behind and followed his brother to the eastern side of the city, taking the road to the beach. It only took ten minutes or so to be in sight of the sea, and it was a priceless one.

There was a salty smell on the air, not unpleasant but distinctly foreign to the brothers. The ocean lay before them, boundless and blue— not the pristine turquoise blue of picture books, but deep and full of mystery.

It evoked a similar feeling as seeing the mountains, with its expansiveness instead of majesty, but instead of turning Yunho away, it beckoned to him.

Gunho cleared his throat before he got too far away. “Hyung? The lighthouse?”

“Oh, right,” Yunho mumbled awkwardly, having gotten lost in the view. “Careful on the rocks.”

Together they made their way down to the beach, slow but sure footed on the bluffs as if they really were descending a mountain. This time, the prize at the bottom was worth much more.

Gunho said nothing but turned and gave his brother a smile, and Yunho knew what he was suggesting.

“It’s winter, Gunho, it might be cold…”

Throwing off his shoes and sprinting across the sand anyway, Gunho’s laugh became a shriek at stepping in the freezing water and then dissolved again into giggles.

Yunho had followed suit and pulled off his worn boots to feel the sand under him. Little rocks, shells, and pieces of coral were scattered throughout but it wasn’t painful to walk across provided you knew where to step.

He’d never been to a beach before and had nothing to compare it to, but to Yunho, it was heaven.

“There’s the lighthouse,” he observed, pointing up the coast. “Let’s head that way.”

Gunho looked up from where he was already digging through the shallows for little tidal creatures and nodded.

Being so tall, the structure looked a lot closer than it was, and by the time they drew up to it Gunho was hungry, cold, and tired and had long since stopped splashing in the surf.

“Are we sleeping here for the night?” He asked in a pout, clinging on to his older brother to steal some of his warmth.

“Yes,” Yunho tried to answer confidently, regardless of the fact that it was their only option with evening fast approaching. “Let’s just hope no one sees us.”

The lighthouse appeared to be empty, though the cottage next to it was illuminated by candles in the windows, and the door swung open when Yunho gently nudged it.

“Quickly!” He whispered, beckoning Gunho in and closing the heavy door behind him. A tall metal staircase spiralled up into the lighthouse, so high they could not see the end of it, but there was a small space underneath the curve of the railings that could house the pair of them if need be.

“It’s still cold in here,” Gunho sighed, already pulling his blanket out from the bag he carried.

“We’ll just have to make do,” Yunho answered redundantly, knowing he was powerless to change the situation. “At least we’re shielded from wind and snow.”

Perhaps they could try knocking at the lighthouse keeper’s cottage next door, where a wisp of smoke emanated from the chimney invitingly, but Yunho didn’t trust this town or anyone in it and it was better to hide out in the lighthouse undiscovered.

“You don’t think anyone will come in here while we sleep, do you?” Gunho asked, suddenly pausing as he was about to lay out his blanket.

Before Yunho could respond, the sound of footsteps approaching from outside shocked the pair into freezing in place.

“Behind the door!” Yunho whispered quickly, pulling his brother into the cramped corner just as the door swung open and obscured them from view.

He could barely hear anything beyond the sound of his heartbeat and Gunho’s shaky breathing, but it seemed that a man had entered and was making his way up the steps to the top of the lighthouse.

“It must be the lighthouse keeper,” Yunho surmised when he was safely out of earshot. “The tides have changed and night is coming… he needs to turn on the light.”

“How will you go up and look around if he’s there?” Gunho sighed, remembering the original purpose of coming there.

Yunho bit his lip and peered up the tower hesitantly. “I suppose that… I’ll have to climb up the outside.”

“Hyung, are you insane?” Gunho hissed, taking a step forward and out of his sheltered corner. “There’s nothing but brick to cling onto, you could fall!”

“Quiet!” Yunho shushed his brother sharply before softening and taking his hand, leading him outside to survey the outside of the lighthouse. “There’s a way up, see?”

He pointed to the small window holes that trailed up to the balcony where the light was.

“Please don’t die,” Gunho whimpered, still trying to cling on even as Yunho found his first foothold and pulled himself up.

“I’ll be fine,” said Yunho with a grin, climbing out of reach within a few seconds. He’d only climbed trees and rooftops in his life, but he loved the feeling of it. A chilling wind battered him and his arms shook from the effort of clinging on when his reach didn’t quite meet the height of the next window.

Almost losing his grip when a shiver overtook him, Yunho had to press himself close to the wall and relax his limbs for a moment. He could see Gunho nervously pacing below but continued up the second half of the stretch without calling down unnecessarily.

When his hand made purchase on the railing at the top, he found enough energy to vault over it and land acrobatically on the balcony, a rush of adrenaline granting him some extra wind.

“Easy!” He mouthed in Gunho’s direction, not yelling in case he was heard by the man inside but not above some bragging when he’d made it up in good time with nothing but his own strength.

The view from the lighthouse was beautiful, and Yunho became lost in it again as he surveyed the land around him.

There was, of course, the glittering ocean at sunset which he couldn’t tear his eyes away from and atop his perch he could see more of it, but no land on the horizon. The archipelago was still much further south.

Glancing in that direction, he saw Panhang nestled into the coast and the road the carriage would take winding out of it through forest and farmland to the city of Kon. That was where they would make the crossing, and taste the sea air instead of only smelling it.

Investigating finished, Yunho couldn’t help but steal a few more moments to himself up there. He didn’t mind the heights or the force of the wind, even the snow blowing in from the north.

He would like to let Mother’s music box play up there, soft twinkling carrying on the breeze and putting the entire town to sleep, but he let Gunho keep it safe in his bag until he was ready to climb down.

When some of the circling gulls had swooped too close for comfort, Yunho finally decided to begin his descent.

The light above him came on just as he vaulted the railing and, thankful for good timing, he scampered down with ease and hurried to hide behind the door again with Gunho just as the lighthouse keeper came down and returned to his house.

“What did you see?” Gunho whispered, still wary even though they were alone.

“The road that leads south. If we have trouble getting money in town, I say we start walking on it and hitch a ride if we can. Winter will be a harsh one here in Panhang.”

“We won’t have to steal, right?” Gunho asked in a quiet murmur as he laid out his blanket and sat on it this time.

“I can’t promise that,” Yunho finally responded with a sigh, stretching out next to his brother and covering both of them with his own blanket. “But I won’t force you into anything. I’m looking out for you, Gunho, you can trust me.”

Gunho didn’t answer, but snuggled closer to his hyung, and for Yunho that was answer enough.

___

He thought he’d be at home in the tavern, but Yunho struggled from the moment he set foot inside to find his place there.

“Which way to the pub?” He had asked a boy who was digging up holes in the snow and dirt of his front garden. The treasure hunter, about his age, gave him a puzzled look and simply pointed towards town.

“There’s only one. The Boar’s Head, you can’t miss it.”

It was a snowy day which meant by noon all the tables nearest the fireplace were taken and the place was so packed full of miners on their lunch breaks that it was all the orphans could do to find a seat that didn’t feel like ice on their backsides.

“I want to order something,” Gunho announced while Yunho kept his eyes glued to the men playing dice across from them.

“Gunho, this is a tavern,” Yunho reminded him distractedly, following even the slightest movement of the players. “You wouldn’t like any of their drinks.”

“Not true!” his little brother whined, pointing to the menu on the board behind the counter. “They make soup, too. A thing called chowder. I want to try it!”

Yunho sighed and finally faced him, pressing a couple of coins into his outstretched hand. “Fine. But if it costs more than this, you’re responsible for bargaining.”

Judging by the teary puppy eyes Gunho was currently displaying, he would have no trouble with that.

The tides of the game changed as Yunho looked on. An old woman had joined in the bets and seated herself at the head of the table. From the way the miners looked at her, he guessed she wasn’t well known. Yunho, too, fell for her guise of ignorance when she lost the first two rounds after upping the bid.

Just as Gunho returned with a steaming bowl big enough for both of them to share, the old woman took the pot in a landslide victory the likes of which Yunho had never seen.

He gulped and stood from his seat. The games in the tavern at So-ai were child’s play compared to this. He didn’t stand a chance.

“We’re leaving.”

“But I just got the soup…” Gunho complained with a mouthful already in his cheeks.

“No,” Yunho explained frustratedly. “I mean we’re leaving Panhang— tonight. We’ll just have to take our chances on the south road, we can’t do business here.”

“Well, why not?” Gunho scoffed. “The barmaid liked me well enough.”

“ That woman is a witch,” Yunho whispered harshly, nudging his head in her direction. “She knows every trick in the book and, I’d wager, exactly what die everyone else rolled before they even know it themselves. It’s mathematically impossible, there’s no other explanation. She’s a witch.”

“You can’t beat her? Well, she doesn’t know you, maybe there’s another game…”

“No, Gunho. She could con us out of all our money without breaking a sweat. It doesn’t matter if I avoid her, she can join in at any time,” Yunho insisted urgently, remembering the incident with the tea house owner. “I barely secured enough in So-ai to get us here and this is much more of a gamble.”

Gunho simply looked away and took another bite of the chowder. “Here, have some,” he offered dully, weary of all the business discussion. “It’s good.”

Yunho followed his conscience instead of his stomach and declined. He felt bad enough for Gunho as it was, starving on the streets and moving uncertainly from place to place, driven on by an incompetent older brother with no friends or family otherwise. He needed as much nourishment as his hard-earned stew would give him.

As for Yunho, he’d have to figure out a new strategy.

His stomach was rumbling so loudly the next morning that Gunho insisted they drop by the tavern again so that he could beg another chowder bowl from the barmaid for a poor, ill baby sister that didn’t exist, secretly giving it to Yunho, and Yunho could steal some firewood for the journey ahead.

He saw the witch again, this time in a different form— the body of a younger woman— but he knew it was her by the way she played. Feigning defeat at first and then raking in all the bets, the way he used to play, but with certainty in her wagers due to some nefarious form of sorcery.

Yunho pitied her victims.

“We go by foot until we see a carriage,” he decided when he’d licked the bowl clean and packed it away with everything else.

“I like walking,” Gunho chirped brightly, throwing his bag over his shoulder.

Yunho’s head was full of maps and worries, so he was glad to find his brother in a good mood.

They’d evaded the lighthouse keeper until now, but left him a small offering Gunho had found in the snow, a bright red camellia flower. Yunho didn’t have the heart to remind him it would die now that he had picked it.

But the brothers were no wilting flowers. They could move from place to place and gain vitality, not lose it.

That was what Yunho was betting on.

___

“I don’t like walking anymore.”

Yunho stopped where he was trudging through the snow piled on the road for the second day in a row and turned around to see his brother lagging behind.

“Do you want to switch? You carry the firewood and bedding and I carry everything else?”

Gunho shook his head and slumped over in a full-body pout. “It doesn’t matter which bag I take, they’re both too heavy.”

“But we’ve been over this, Gunho,” Yunho reminded him gently. “We can’t get rid of anything else. You have the money and the cooking pots, I have the campsite supplies.”

“Then why can’t we stop now? My feet are tired,” he whined, trying his pitiful eyes on Yunho despite knowing he was immune.

“Because at this rate it’ll take two weeks, not one, to reach Kon,” Yunho repeated for the umpteenth time, surrendering and walking back to meet his brother where he was stopped. “Besides, we just stopped for lunch.”

“Just a small break? Please?” Gunho sounded on the verge of tears and almost dropped his act accidentally as an idea crossed his mind. “I have to relieve myself!”

Yunho resisted the urge to pinch his nose and gestured to the tree line. “Fine, go in the bushes. There’s no outhouse here on the road.”

As Gunho scampered off, Yunho pulled out the atlas again, a bit worse for wear than it had been when they stole it from the library. His life and Gunho’s depended on that thing, so he studied it again, trying to surmise their position and hoping he hadn’t led them astray.

“We’re still on the main path… right?” He muttered to himself when he didn’t see the small village they should have passed by now anywhere in the vicinity.

Doubt overtook him, seeping into his stomach the longer he stared at the map and then at his surroundings. He had made a wrong turn somewhere, and retracing their steps could cost them a day or two depending on how long ago he had made his mistake.

Feeling unsettled in his stomach, Yunho turned to give Gunho the bad news before seeing his brother come hurtling out of the trees, pans clanging from inside his bag as he sprinted over, yelling unintelligibly.

“Hyung, hyung!” He finally got out, breathless. “There’s a carriage, it’s going south. We can catch it if we run!”

“You found the main road!” Yunho gasped excitedly, following behind as he was led through the evergreens and into the open.

There it was, stretching south and slightly more east than they had been headed. If not for Gunho, they’d have continued on the smaller path and eventually deviated so far off course they might have passed Kon as well, ending up so lost he wouldn’t know what to do.

He would be nothing if not for Gunho.

“Hurry, toss me!” The younger boy called, redistributing the weight of his bag and preparing to be thrown at the carriage as it dwindled away.

“Try to land quietly, we don’t want to be discovered,” Yunho cautioned before pulling Gunho into arms and hoisting him up.

Almost missing it, he managed to grasp the trunk rack fixed to the back and turned around to catch Yunho. “Quickly, hyung, it’s speeding up!”

With a few large bounds courtesy of his long legs, Yunho accelerated into a leap, gracefully landing next to Gunho aboard the carriage with the passengers none the wiser.

“We have to whisper or the driver will catch us,” he warned his brother, who was already pulling a blanket out of his sack.

And it was a good thing, too, because snow began to fall not thirty minutes later.

As the two once again shared their shivers, Yunho found himself wishing they’d stayed in Panhang awhile longer.

At least they’d had a roof over their heads.

“The firewood…” Gunho whimpered in realisation when they pulled out some dry crackers for supper several hours in. “How are we supposed to use it on the carriage?”

“We can’t,” Yunho sighed, again forced to be realistic. “We’ll have to eat dry food until we arrive. In order to make a camp we’d have to jump off.”

“It’s a slow enough carriage, we’d be fine,” Gunho pointed out hopefully, letting desire get the better of him.

“And we’d have to wait who knows how long for the next carriage… that, or walk the distance to Kon,” Yunho finished, pulling his brother closer so he wouldn’t have to see the disappointment written on his face.

Like he often did when he was sad, Gunho brought out the music box from his pocket and ran his finger along the swan carvings that decorated the outside. They both knew he couldn’t open it or the passengers inside the carriage might hear.

Yunho’s heart felt stale inside his chest, and he didn’t know what to say. Instead, he reached out a hand and Gunho took and squeezed it.

That was all he had to hold on to. Mother’s music box, and Yunho.

___

Yunho liked Kon even less than Panhang.

It was dirty, crowded, and crawling with enemies— be they other beggars and street rats or town officials and navy soldiers.

He could tell already from how high the prices were in the market they explored on the morning of their arrival that they’d be forced to blow all their money on food and sneak aboard a ship instead of pay their way like they’d initially planned.

But as he surveyed the towering masts of the ships practically climbing over one another all crammed into the harbour, he realised he didn’t know enough about sea travel to even figure out where to start.

Yunho would have to do something he had avoided since Sangwoo’s disappearance; ask for help.

In a city of cutthroat thieves and suspicious seamen, it was difficult to find a candidate.

The only people Yunho trusted were those as naïve as he had once been, and Kon had precious few innocent types lurking on its street corners.

Since the orphanage he’d learned he could only trust those he could predict, and rarely could a stranger’s movements and loyalties be predicted more than once.

“That man there,” Gunho pointed in the direction of an old sailor selling sponges and starfish on the street corner, already a step ahead of Yunho despite his shyness around strangers. “Maybe he knows how to get to the archipelago.”

“Indeed I do,” the man spoke up without lifting his head from his work, having heard them whisper about him already.

Cherry red, the two properly approached and bowed to him, smiling back brightly when he grinned and shook his head.

“I assume you haven’t the funds to do so legally?”

Biting his lip, Yunho nodded. Gunho was tugging at his sleeve in a plea for him to reconsider revealing so much, but admitting their situation was a risk he’d have to take.

“Unless you know exactly which island you’re headed to, I’d recommend the Dalhae ferry. It’s less guarded than the Namhae one and will get you almost as far. Backtracking from there to whichever island you intend to stay at should be easier.”

“Thank you, sir!” Yunho praised a bit excessively before turning with Gunho to the docks.

“Now hold on a minute!” The man interrupted them, standing and letting his nets fall to the ground.

Yunho froze in place, afraid that once he turned around, the old sailor would demand payment for his generosity.

Slowly he turned his head and cocked it innocently, seeing Gunho clutch the money bag tightly in his hand out of the corner of his eye.

The old man chuckled and took a seat again. “If you mean to stow away, you’ll need supplies to last you; food, water, medicine— haven’t you ever been to sea, lads?”

Yunho went to shake his head and ask for more information but Gunho was already arguing back.

“But the sea is water, silly! We can drink anytime.”

The sailor stared blankly at them before bursting into a hearty bout of laughter and wiping mirthful tears out of his eyes. “I take it that’s a no.”

Gunho frowned and looked to Yunho for direction.

“Thank you again!” He called to the stranger, who waved them on with continuing wheezes.

“We have no choice then?” Gunho asked nervously, chewing his lip while they bought as much food as they could afford and filled their stolen flasks with fresh water. “We have to sneak on?”

“Everything I’ve seen here leads me to believe that starfish man was telling the truth,” Yunho admitted as he screwed the lid shut and shook it to ensure it was properly sealed.

“You trust people more than I do,” Gunho muttered in the opposite direction, perfectly aware Yunho could hear him but too grumpy now to care.

“I trust people who have nothing to lose by helping us or nothing to gain by betraying us,” Yunho responded coolly, aware that Gunho’s experiences at the orphanage had destroyed his ability to trust other beggars, despite his childish charms being his main act.

“Which category was Sangwoo in?” Gunho shot back, finally turning to face him.

“Sangwoo doesn’t matter anymore,” Yunho grit out, slinging his bag over his shoulder. “Let’s go.”

As always, the argument was forgotten as soon as the two were huddled in the hull of a supply ship bound for Dalhae, clinging to each other for warmth.

It wasn’t as cold as it had been in So-ai or Panhang, but the bilge water that washed around when the boat rocked back and forth was cold enough to chill them to the bones. There was no tasting the sea air.

“I’m sorry,” Gunho whispered as he buried himself in Yunho’s arms. “It wasn’t your fault he left us.”

“We have each other,” Yunho managed to answer around the ball in his throat. “That’s all that matters.”

It seemed that each town they arrived at was more different even than the last.

In Dalhae there were only a few things Yunho recognised.

The stars, for one, were visible again thanks to the island being smaller and less populated than Panhang or Kon.

It was a hillier coast than Kon had been, and at the bottom of the slope where the market was located, dark caves beckoned them, inviting mystery and danger.

“Let’s head that way,” Gunho suggested when they’d successfully disembarked to the jetty without being seen, pointing to the lights of the market and away from the spooky cave system.

Yunho agreed wholeheartedly and found a dry alley corner for them to spend the rest of the night in, too tired to explore another town and beg for shelter.

At least it wasn’t raining or snowing on them.

Just before dawn, a rustling sound roused Yunho from his sleep.

Sitting up straight and peering into the darkness, he watched a figure suddenly emerge and jumped a foot in the air, startled.

“This is my alley!” A voice growled, low and rumbling but loud enough that it woke Gunho too. “Go on, get out! And don’t come back!”

Gunho gasped, but Yunho was already pulling him away, dragging their bags behind him. “S-Sorry,” he stammered, clutching a dusty blanket and backing away in more of a stumble than a walk. “We didn’t know! It won’t happen again...”

The stranger was hardly even visible in the grey light, but a grunt sounded in response and after, only silence.

It may not have looked to be the case when they arrived, but Dalhae was just as full of street rats as Kon had been.

“Beggars can’t be choosers,” Yunho sighed, setting up their things outside what seemed to be the tavern, always his temporary base of operations.

“I want a few more hours,” Gunho whined, rubbing his eyes and pulling the blankets closer. It left Yunho with only the rubbish heap to lay on, but rather than argue, he pinched his nose and tried to sleep.

It didn’t work.

When the noise in the street was becoming too loud to ignore, Yunho arose and brushed any excess garbage off of him, wandering away to see what was going on while Gunho poked through the pile for breakfast.

It didn’t sound like the regular hustle and bustle of a market, but entertainment of some kind. The crowd reacted with one voice, cheering sometimes, gasping sometimes, always with a buzz of excitement.

Sure enough, when he reached the end of the road he saw a circle of people surrounding something. They were too tall to peer over so Yunho pushed his way through.

Two boys had just finished wrestling in the middle of some type of dirt arena, and money was changing hands between the spectators who stood around.

“We have our winner!” A brightly dressed woman announcer entered the ring and held up the arm of the champion. “Han Changhwa!”

“It’s a street fight!” Yunho realised aloud as the defeated boy stumbled to his feet and pushed his way past.

“No kidding,” the boy grumbled, barely understandable with all the blood in his mouth. “Bet on the other fighter if you want to get paid.”

Yunho was speechless and did nothing more than wince at the wounds on the boy’s face until he hobbled away, empty handed.

“Place your bets on the final round, ladies and gentlemen!” The announcer bellowed over the excited crowd from a table for money to be collected, and right and left the audience emptied their pockets to make their wagers.

Yunho dug through his own pockets until he landed on a silver piece and placed it on the table in favour of Changhwa, following the losing boy’s advice and staking his claim.

“It’ll be tripled if you win then!” The announcer told him before returning to the arena.

At her command, another contestant appeared, bigger than Changhwa. Yunho bit his lip with second thoughts. Maybe the defeated contestant had given him bad advice and he’d wasted a silver coin.

The boys wasted no time going head to head when the announcer yelled, “Start!”

Both of them tried to tackle each other, but when neither could gain an advantage, Changhwa realised it first and released his opponent to clock him in the head.

The other boy dodged and returned easily with a roundhouse kick. Just as Yunho was beginning to wonder what the rules were, Changhwa was kicked in the face and fell to the ground. Wiping blood from his ear, he used his slick hands to squirm away before the other boy tackled him.

With the opponent in a bent position, Changhwa could deliver a kick to the midsection without sacrificing his footing and jumped back when the boy got to his feet.

Changhwa was punched again in the nose and Yunho sucked in a nervous breath. In a few seconds he could lose his silver.

Twice more, Changhwa was punched, his arms coming up too late to be of any defence, and not until he lowered his stance and rammed his opponent in the gut did he get him on the ground long enough to put him in a hold.

When the required ten seconds had gone by and the opponent couldn’t wiggle his way out, the match was ended and Changhwa fell back, exhausted.

“Once again, we have our winner!” The announcer yelled over the cheers, hoisting him up and raising his arm. “Han Changhwa!”

Yunho sighed, relieved, and joined the line to collect his money.

Either way, it had been too close and he’d almost lost his coin over it. Betting on street fights was no better than betting on tavern games when it came to probability. Unless…

It had been awhile since he’d brawled with anyone, but if the odds were in Yunho’s own hands, he could be much more confident in winning.

Yunho set his jaw and turned to the announcer.

“I can fight. How do I join?”

“Sign up for tomorrow morning’s games, same place and same time,” the announcer answered distractedly as she distributed everyone else’s winnings. “Make your mark here, a fingerprint will do.”

She pointed to a paper that Yunho signed in a flourish with the proffered pen.

“You can write?” The woman asked with a raised eyebrow. Apparently that was exceptional for a street rat.

Yunho nodded and skimmed the rest of the list. “I can read, too. Does Changhwa advance now that he won today?”

“As long as he shows up for it,” the announcer answered affirmatively before putting away the list and beginning to pack up.

Changhwa was collecting his own earnings and, noticing Yunho’s stare, gave him no more than a forced smile before walking off.

“I’ll see you tomorrow, thanks for earning me a few silvers!” Yunho called after him, voice bright with the thrill of possibilities.

It was time to go inform Gunho.

This was it. This was his new strategy.