Chapter Text
Jihoon was teleported and dropped near the Pool of Styx in the most uncomfortable way possible. He laid there and waited until the pain subsided, not for long though, his afterlife as a shade had gradually made him numb to most physical pains. Jihoon sat up and stared at the crimson waters beside him, Pool of Styx, watched over by Lord Jun, located right smack in the House’s foyer. They say only the staff and guests of honour came into the house through the pool. Jihoon remembered how he entered this place surfaced in the very pool alive and well for his first and last attempt to bring his love back to live with him.
Jihoon shook his head, that’s not a nice memory to remember in the first place. After a tired sigh and a quick glance around, he willed his legs to stand though awkwardly, he stretched a bit. That was an awful surprise trip from Tartarus, he spent quite some time after Seungcheol had banished him back out there after a bit of a disagreement in terms of his job description. It was kind of sad, he’s already getting used to seeing the same things over and over again and almost enjoyed being stranded in Tartarus. The guards there weren’t so violent, the shades that were there never really bothered him.
Just when Jihoon was taking his usual casual stroll in one of the rooms, all of the sudden something in him felt lighter, the pact must have been lifted off him. Then he’s back in the glory of The House of Lord Seungcheol before he knew it, Jihoon can’t help but notice few things had changed, there’s a new rug, a new bed for the three-headed beast, Lord Jun has a new bed which is not helping him do his job, gods bless him for being the sleep incarnate. Jihoon kept staring at anything but what’s waiting for him at the end of the hall. With his lyre in one hand, he joined the long line of shades as he did all those aeons ago.
“Dismissed,” a voice boomed from the end of the hall, the line of shades dispersed as did Jihoon. But the Lord of the Underworld has a sharp eye for things.
“Jihoon, please step forward,” his voice shattered into the musician’s marrow. Jihoon dragged what’s left of him and his lyre to the centre of the great hall, it felt larger somehow, was this part of the new addition to the house? He’ll never overcome how minuscule he is compared to his Lordship Seungcheol. The King of the Underworld sat behind his gargantuan desk, on it was carved his symbol, and Jihoon can probably see the small carvings of the tragedy and joy the Lord had gone through. He gathered enough courage to lift his head up to His Highness, Seungcheol looked rather fatigued, probably due to the departure of Lord Jeonghan, or Lord Jun’s constant slacking on the job, or the complaints he had to listen from the shades from day to day. His Lordship wasn’t even looking at him.
“As you probably already know, your pact has been lifted thanks to my insolent child. You may now do your work as per usual-”
The sentence was cut off by a loud splash coming from the Pool of Styx. Lord Seungcheol’s annoyed groan drowned the string of profanities spat by whatever came out of the Pool.
“Back already?”
Jihoon turned to see to whom that question was for just in time to see a flash of red about his size before it disappeared into the hidden crevice leading into what he remembered as the lounge room. That’s another new feature in the House. The musician turned to His Lordship if he wanted to continue the previous conversation but the Seungcheol’s glare was still fixated on the hidden crevice, he scoffed out ember and set his fiery gaze at Jihoon.
“Help me to understand something here, Jihoon. Why do I bother keeping such a worthless shadow of a court musician in my House? You prattle ceaselessly, yet I can't get even a single note out of you?”
Jihoon shuffled uncomfortably and broke eye contact with Lord Seungcheol, he had his reasons. He had his reasons as to why he won’t use his gift in the presence of anyone at all at this point. The gift that had cost him so much pain. Jihoon sighed and moved his head up so fast he thought he might have pulled something there.
“If I may be so bold, my lord? Perhaps the merest sight of me still stirs in you a memory of my performances of yore. It gladdens me you used to like my songs,”
Seungcheol’s glare went as dark as the depth of Chaos. Jihoon didn’t budge, nothing really gets to him nowadays, unless it had something to do with trees.
“I used to tolerate your insolence. We're finished here. You find your voice. Immediately! You have one hundred years, and not a moment more,”
With that gruff and painful retort, Lord Seungcheol waved at Jihoon’s old workplace. Which was a normal-sized chair right next to Seungcheol’s desk. Now, this is a feature that he remembered from his previous stay in the House of Seungcheol.
Jihoon reluctantly inched towards his chair, dusted off the seat and plopped down. Not that he wanted to serve properly as a court musician in the near future but it’s a nice change of environment. Not for his health as he is already dead, but for his sanity, if he still had any left. He had to thank the Prince for releasing him of his infinite punishment though.
That day (night? You never know the time in the Underworld) was the first of many days Jihoon will spend staring off at the main hall or anything except his job until someone can convince him otherwise.
He nodded politely to Chan, who Jihoon had recognized as every lore that had spread across Greece was very detailed about the greatest warrior to ever live that had fought the Trojan War (well, not really, Jihoon overheard Lord Jun calling for the guard about some rowdy shade in the line last time Jihoon ‘worked’ here). Now the afterlife shadow of the very legend stood guard in the House of Seungcheol, King of the Underworld. Jihoon can’t help but be giddy that he shared the same workplace with Chan, he promised himself he’d gather enough courage to talk to him.
Jihoon also nodded to Lord Jun the sleep incarnate who is probably nodding himself to sleep again, just to be polite. Jihoon put his lyre aside and watched as the shades gathered again and formed a line under the Lord of the Underworld's command. He tried his best ignoring the heterochromatic gaze sent at him from the lounge door. Not that it’s easy when the young man is clearly moving back and forth, probably contemplating something.
The handsome figure in red decided to approach him. Now that Jihoon had a good look at him, this man must have been the Prince as he shared several features with Lord Seungcheol. The dark hair, peculiarly only one of His Highness’ eyes which was crimson red with a dark sclera, where the other was a calm human-like green eye, the sharp jaw, and the burning feet. Funnily enough, the man’s size is not of your daily deity that sits on the throne in Olympus or a special case of Lord Seungcheol, the Prince probably had some human in him somewhere. Though he had to admit, the matching red laurel crown with Lord Seungcheol is a dead giveaway. Jihoon tried his best to suppress a chuckle, the goofy smile the Prince had on his face is not something Jihoon would expect to be featured on the grouchy Lord. He is surprisingly dry after that dive from the Pool of Styx.
“You must be Prince Mingyu,”
The smile dropped a bit and the supposed Prince scratched his head nervously, embers flying out and away like dandruff the more his messy hair shook.
“It’s clear as day as to who I am, isn't it?”
He even speaks like someone that had lived on the surface, Jihoon thought.
“It is not that difficult to guess in the first place, my friend,”
Jihoon tested the waters but it seemed like the Prince didn’t mind him being addressed so casually. They continued conversing for a while, sometimes the Prince would get distracted by his pet Cerberus, the renowned three-headed hellhound. It didn’t take long for Mingyu to bid his farewell, Jihoon made sure to express his gratitude.
“Prince?” The latter turned with a smile “Thank you, for settling the pact I mean,”
“Anything for my favourite court musician,”
Jihoon watched as Mingyu ran off to Chan for a small chat, then ran off to the other side. In fact, Mingyu ran around the house for a while, Jihoon can clearly sense annoyance growing within His Lordship but the Prince disappeared into his abode before Lord Seungcheol tempted to blow his anger towards the poor shades more than he used to.
Jihoon sighed and slumped into his seat, at this point he can’t help but think about what his beloved is doing right now, where in this vast Underworld are they currently. Are they also lost, wandering in Tartarus as he did just a few moments ago? Or are they enjoying themselves along with other heroic shades in the lavish lands of Elysium? Or maybe worse, are they tortured by the heat in Asphodel? Jihoon will never know and never dared to ask. Even the privilege of thinking about them haunts him a little.
Jihoon couldn’t grasp how much time had passed ever since the whole catastrophe happened but he always tries to never forget what his beloved looked like, how beautiful their voice is when they sing, the wonderful aroma of their cooking. Jihoon tries to remember the days he would run his fingers through their leaflike hair, their soft skin tan under the summer sun, their smile that could put Apollo and Helios’ chariots to shame. Jihoon’s favourite would be their melodic laugh every time his beloved would play around with their fellow dryads.
Jihoon slipped a hand into his pocket until his fingertips touched something cold. The distant memory he had with his love all contained in one small jar. The musician can’t exactly remember how he got hold of it, but he had cherished it ever since. The improved lighting of the house shone through the jar as he held it up above his head. Jihoon could feel it, the warm hand upon his as they both sang to the vast darkness of the Aegean Sea in a warm Thracian evening. Looking up to the roofless ceiling of the House, Jihoon held down the jar to his chest. He may have lost hope in meeting his beloved even in the afterlife, but at least he can cling to what they had. Jihoon continued to grasp for it, protecting what is left of it with all his might.
