Chapter Text
In a small street of Gangnam-gu, just around the corner of busy streets and loud traffic, there’s a certain tailor shop. Its façade is dark green and the entrance a heavy black door. On both sides large windows showcase neat suits on wooden stands. Golden lettering adorns wood and glasses and the wall above.
When you walk by your eyes catch on the dandy clothes first. You’ll falter in your steps, marvelling at the design, wondering what the expensive fabric would feel like. Further into the shop your sight won’t reach – the light is too dim and the background seems obscured. You’ll take a step back and read the letters then your gaze will fall to the door. It’s closed when you take it in – and closed still when you try to open it. How strange that it’d be closed at the most busy time of the day. You take another look at the window and golden lettering trying to memorize the name to look it up later on (though you’ll forget about it all). Shrugging you leave the place resuming your promenade. You round the corner and re-enter the busy streets of Seoul and soon your mind is overtaken by bright ad screens and loud traffic while dark green and gold fade into the background until the name of the shop escapes you as you try to think back on it and the street it was in vanishes from the map of your mind. You’re busy, though – like the streets, the people on the sidewalk, the traffic – so you shrug and move on, forgetting all about it.
You forget about it not knowing that it doesn’t want you to remember it in the first place.
For the strange tailor shop is not meant for ordinary people like you.
It’s dusk when a man in a dark teal suit stops in front of the strange tailor shop. Though the sun has set and the streets are getting dark tinted glasses sit on his elegant nose resting against high cheekbones. A perfect eyebrow appears over the frame of the glasses as he cocks it critically while studying the letters over the entrance. A low impatient growl by his side urges him to move on. He rests his hand in warm fur ruffling it slightly before pushing the door open and enters.
As he strides in so does his familiar. Giant paws follow his footsteps, claws now digging into dark carpet then clicking soundly against wooden floor. Strong muscles shift beneath the fur as languidly it paces forward. Golden is its mane flaring wide and magnificently like the rays of the sun. Golden is its glowing trail it leaves in the air where it brushes the doorframe and touches the ground. And golden are its eyes piercing through its surroundings searching for prey. It moves with lowered head as if on the prowl, watchful and alert and comes to a halt when the man stops in his tracks.
In front of him is a tasteful black leather couch and beyond that a wall of classic wooden shelves and racks decorated with beautiful suits. Immaculately folded shirts and ties as well as shiny shoes sit on the stacks illuminated by incorporated lights. In the centre leaning against the shelves stands a man. He wears a brown patterned suit that stretches over wide shoulders and hugs a slim waist. Further flattering his form are perfectly fit pants clothing his endless legs. At the bottom polished shoes cross at the ankle. The visitor's eyes move slowly up again taking in the leather belt, the Rolex on his wrist, the phone in one, the pen in the other hand. Up his gaze travels passed chiselled jawline and painted lips and porcelain skin. Black hair frames his immaculate face and a soft glow envelops him not unlike that of a familiar. Delicate are his features as if a mere breeze could break this statue into pieces – yet strong and extraordinarily gorgeous, like a masterpiece that's survived centuries upon centuries of bad weather, polished to perfection by rain and wind and sun.
The man – the tailor – then lifts his gaze and meets the visitor's. Where his looks still betrayed some earthly connection his eyes are beyond this world. Dark like the matter behind the stars they shine with the depth of collapse and rebuild, of the timeless lives of rebirthed galaxies.
This is a strange shop with a strange tailor. There's no greeting, just a stare deep into your soul that tinted glasses cannot withstand. The visitor remains unmoved yet his familiar bows its impressive head as if hailing a king amongst kings. Its master frowns at its demeanour.
"You're new." The tailor's voice rings crystal clear through the room, cool as the morning dew.
"I want a suit." The man replies.
"Obviously." The tailor tilts his head considering him. His pen moves across the screen in his hand in swift strokes and hasty jerks. Next to the client the enormous lion settles down. Minutes pass until at last the tailor pushes away from the wall and starts towards a side door. He beckons the man and he follows him. The lion remains in the room as it watches its master walking deeper into the shop. There's a moment where the man looks back distracted by something glittering brightly in his periphery accompanied by a melodic sound of clinking crystals. But he only sees his familiar turning its head and lifting its nose as if to sniff the air. How strange.
Hours later the client leaves the backroom with the golden lion trailing behind him. He’s wearing a new suit, black with a glittering silver criss cross pattern. As he makes his way to the exit he puts one hand in his pocket and with the other he pushes his hair back. In that moment the door opens. A black-haired man in an all black suit enters the shop. He looks younger than the other men present and his eyes tell. They burn with the fierceness of youth, reckless and self-assured, untouchable in his beauty and boundless strength. A slight shake of his head makes his bangs fly sideways and his silver earrings glint in the dim light. By his side, his silent companion. Watchful as the moon and black as the night. Paws not unlike golden ones stride through the door. Where it touches a white shimmer follows in its wake. A mighty panther with diamond eyes. When the man’s footsteps hit the wooden floor they echo powerfully through the room. He’s broader than the first client, taller, stronger. For a split second he glances at the leaving man. Their expressions betray nothing. Their familiars on the other hand…a low growl starts rumbling in the lion’s chest and climbs up to form a threatening roar. The panther looking back bares white fangs and answers with a sharp hiss. Then the moment passes and the man and the lion are gone. The remaining man now has only eyes for one: the tailor in the centre of the shop.
It’s night when Jung Hoseok exits the shop. The door shuts itself. He stares at it for a while a look of contemplation on his face.
“Lion!” Someone calls. He turns towards the voice. There on a low roof in this quiet street is a man in white crouching on the edge. He’s cast in the moonlight and so pretty with his glittering eyes and smile. “I’ve been watching you.” A flash of bright white teeth. Hoseok pets his lion’s head as he regards the stranger. “Who are you?”
Full lips stretch into a wide grin, “A friend.”
“You wish.”
“I do.”
“A friend would tell me his name.”
“Tell me yours and I tell you mine.” Hoseok snorts, this man doesn’t make any sense. He scratches behind the ear of his familiar. His Sun leans into his touch. “I showed you mine, show me yours and maybe we can talk.” Another smirk, a dangerous glint of smoky eyes. And then he reveals himself. Suddenly, he grows white graceful wings. They’re big and beautiful like the man himself. But when they move Hoseok understands. The wings fold in on themselves and the stranger shifts. Behind him stands a swan, magnificent and pure white. What’s strange though is the snake around his neck. He cocks an eyebrow. “Two familiars? How peculiar.”
The stranger strokes the snake’s head lazily, “Not as peculiar as the tailor.” Hoseok perks up, “What do you mean?”
“Have you seen his familiar?” He shakes his head, “Have you?”
“No. Only few know its form. Do you know what they say about the tailor?”
“What do they say?” The man considers him for a moment. He shifts to sit on the edge. Next he lets himself fall to the ground from ten metres high. But gravity works differently for him. He floats down like a feather, softly, elegantly as his familiar lends him its wings. When his bare feet touch the ground he walks towards him. Up close he looks even prettier. Sun growls lowly as the snake darts the tongue out. The swan meanwhile has vanished from sight. Petting the snake’s head the stranger gives him a meaningful look, “They say he was born in the Realm itself.” Hoseok’s eyes widen. “Indeed?”
The man hums, “And they say his familiar is magnificent in size and beauty and power. Unlike any other.”
He lets the information sink in thinking of the moment his lion bowed so reverently in the half empty room. “Why are you telling me this?”
“Because I’m your friend.”
“What do you want?” The stranger laughs. It’s a warm melodic sound and his eyes become glittering crescents of joy. “Nothing. I just wanted to take a look at you. As I’ve done that now, I shall take me leave.” With a last bright smile at Hoseok he turns around and starts walking down the street. Hoseok frowns after him. “Wait! Who was that young man just entering the shop?”
“A foe.” He lifts a hand in farewell, “Welcome to the Realm, Lion.”
“Wait! What’s your name?” The man walks backwards facing him with a mischievous smile. “Call me Swan.”
He considers him. “I’ll call you Snake.” That earns him another ringing laughter. Slowly, the snake vanishes into the night.