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Rowoon watched from the top of the spiral staircase as his guests took their leave. It was well past 2 am, but no one seemed to mind. They were all still caught up in the excitement of the night.
His parties were always the talk of the town. Everyone wanted an invitation to the exclusive event, if only to find out what happened there. No one could ever provide a clear description of the festivities held within the walls of the mansion on the lake, much less remember the people who went in and never came out.
A silver Jaguar XK rolled to a stop at the front door. Hwiyoung hopped out and waited patiently as Dawon escorted the last of Rowoon's guests to their vehicle, sheltering them from the pouring rain with a massive umbrella.
"Yah! Hwiyoungie! Take off your boots before you track any mud into my foyer!" Jaeyoon's voice resounded through the hall.
Hwiyoung's grumbled about how Jaeyoon was already going to mop the floor after all the guests anyway, but complied, removing his boots before stepping foot inside.
Dawon barreled past, dripping water from the umbrella everywhere and earning a fierce glare from Hwiyoung.
Rowoon smiled at his pets' antics. He had never intended on collecting so many humans, but they definitely kept him entertained and provided a degree of companionship in this big, otherwise empty house.
He glided down the stairs. He couldn't wait to sample the goods Inseong had selected for him.
Inseong was a rare breed. He was born into this profession, his great-grandfather having served Rowoon a century past, and had a natural talent for identifying those with the sweetest blood. How a mere mortal could have such a skill was beyond Rowoon's understanding, but he couldn't complain.
Inseong's only fault was his weakness for pretty men.
Hence the current menagerie.
Rowoon could hardly deny his loyal servant's request when he pouted cutely up at him. Regardless, this habit had made throwing these house parties possible, greatly increasing the efficiency of hunting down fresh blood to stock his cellars.
As he approached the door to the study, raised voices reached Rowoon's ears.
"How dare you keep me here! Don't you know, my family will be looking for me? My friends know I came here."
"No one will remember you," Inseong's voice sounded exasperated as if he'd been trying to reason with the other for a while now, "You will spend the rest of your life here, serving Master, and you will love it more than anything in this world."
"No one would love being a slave! I bet your master is ugly too. Why else would he hide from his own party guests?"
Rowoon smiled and pushed the door open. He scanned the scene quickly. Inseong and Youngbin had five humans tied up in chairs all in various states of consciousness. His gaze fell on the angry young man who had been arguing with Inseong and was now staring slack-jawed at him. He stepped over to stand directly in front of the trembling figure, forcing him to crane his neck back to look at him.
"Do you really think I'm ugly?" He asked.
A blush colored the young man's face. Unable to resist the temptation, Rowoon caressed the cheeks, watching the rise and fall of the other's Adam's apple as he gulped nervously.
"No! I'm sorry, sir! Please don't make me leave! I couldn't bear the thought of having disappointed you."
Rowoon didn't doubt the veracity of those words. His charm was overwhelming, he knew. There had been a few times humans had laid eyes on him and been allowed to live only to take their own lives later out of despair. Such a waste.
"What is your name?" He asked gently.
"Ch-chani, sir."
Rowoon leaned down, and Chani instinctively turned his head, giving him easy access to his neck.
"So eager," Rowoon murmured appreciatively, taking a tentative whiff.
Type A - definitely not his preference. He straightened up and cast an accusatory glance at Inseong. At least Inseong had the sense to pretend to look apologetic.
"You have grown quite presumptuous. We will soon run out of jobs in this place, if you don't stop this nonsense," he chastised, "I assume you've found a role for this one?"
"I'm only thinking of your comfort, Master. I can train him as my apprentice, and maybe he can produce a line to carry on after I'm gone."
Rowoon hummed thoughtfully, "I suppose we can give him a chance, but if he does not have sufficient skill, I'm afraid I shall have to insist that you chose a woman to breed and produce your own offspring."
Inseong bowed low in acknowledgment and then turned to release the bonds. Now that all were under Rowoon's charm, it was no longer necessary to tie any up. All of the humans were completely docile and would wait contentedly in the blood cellar for their own fate.
Rowoon chose a well-matured female O, and Youngbin led the group out, promising to deliver a fresh decanter to the library within the hour.
A peaceful quiet fell over the house after Inseong and his boys had gone to bed. Rowoon settled in his favorite easy chair with a book. Being immortal could get boring, but as long as he had more languages to teach himself and literature from cultures around the world, he could compensate a tiny bit for his inability to integrate into society. He missed those days when he could hang out with friends and not question whether they liked him for who he was. What he would give for someone to yell at him again. Instead, he must content himself with lives and loves of people real and fictional the world over.
Rowoon had no idea how long the pounding on the front door had been going on before he realized that Dawon wasn’t going to answer it. It was still dark outside. No decent person should be making calls at this time. Reluctantly, he set aside the novel and got up to see for himself.
The man at the door smelled divine.
“Are you the proprietor of this place?” The policeman asked, his eyes remaining on his tiny notebook.
“Yes, Officer... Officer...” he prompted, trying to catch the man’s eyes. What a pleasant surprise, this man showing up out of the blue like this. He couldn’t wait to sink his teeth in him.
“Yoo, Yoo Taeyang,” he looked up and locked eyes with Rowoon, “I’m investigating some missing persons around these parts. Many last seen attending parties at this address.”
Rowoon stared at him, waiting for his charm to take effect.
Yoo Taeyang stared back.
“Hello?” the policeman finally broke the awkward silence between them, “Do you understand? I need to ask you some questions.”
Rowoon didn’t understand. Why wasn’t his charm working on the stranger? Was he somehow immune?
He had to have him.
If his charm wouldn’t work, he’d have to resort to physical force.
Thud.
The moment he started to move, he was on the floor, his head reeling from the impact.
“What... what are you?” Rowoon stared up at the man hovering over him. He wasn’t a policeman, that was clear now. It had been decades since he’d been out and seen any law enforcement, but he should have known that it wouldn’t have been long enough for police uniforms to progress to crop tops and booty shorts.
“You’ve been a bad boy,” Yoo Taeyang purred, running his baton down Rowoon’s chest. He leaned closer, his scent overpowering Rowoon’s senses, “You want my blood, don’t you? Too bad. You will never be able to stomach the taste again. Not until you find someone who can truly love you.”
“Huh?” Rowoon was fully confused, “What are you talking about? If you know what I am, you know blood is the only thing I can eat.”
“You could eat grass,” Yoo Taeyang said matter-of-factly then turned and sashayed back out the door.
“What the hell?” Rowoon yelled after him.
A sharp pain shot through his temples, and he blacked out.
“Sir! Sir!”
Rowoon opened his eyes to Inseong’s concerned face. His head was pounding like nothing he’d ever experienced before. He reached a hand up to his head and froze.
Everything was wrong.
“What?”
“Sir,” Inseong visibly gulped, “You have horns... and hooves.”
Rowoon stared incomprehensibly at his servant.
“Huh?”
“You look like a cow!” Dawon announced.
“A very pretty cow,” Inseong assured him quickly.
The faces swam in Rowoon’s sight, blurring around the edges of his vision.
“Here,” Youngbin helped him sit up, providing support, “drink this,” he held a glass of blood to his lips.
Rowoon’s stomach growled at the sweet scent, and he gulped it down gratefully.
“Better?” Inseong asked.
No.
A cramping pain squeezed through his guts, causing him to double over in pain. He heaved and heaved, his stomach expelling all its contents until there was nothing left. He sobbed, tears streaming down his face, as Inseong wrapped his arms around him and rocked him gently.
“Shh, it’s okay, we’ll figure this out,” Inseong comforted him, “My father told me about a witch who has a talent in transfiguring people. We just need to find him and see if he can help. What was his name? Yoo... Yoo...”
“Taeyang?”
“Yes! You’ve heard of him?”
Rowoon groaned. “He’s the one who did this to me.”
“Oh. Well shit.” Inseong said philosophically, waving Jaeyoon over to help get Rowoon to his feet, “Let’s get you cleaned up.”
Rowoon felt in a daze.
This couldn’t be happening to him.
He was supposed to be untouchable.
A big fat tear escaped his eye and rolled down his cheek. He raised his arm to wipe it away and was painfully reminded of his horrifying transformation, as an ugly black hoof came into view.
“Look at me, I’m hideous!” he wailed, “And how am I supposed to do anything with hooves?”
The answer to that question was very little. For someone used to fingers and opposable thumbs, Rowoon was immensely crippled, requiring considerable adjustments to his routine. He was entirely dependent on the humans to do everything for him.
He really didn’t know what he would have done without so much help. Sure enough, the only thing his stomach (stomachs?) could handle was grass, so every day, Hwiyoung and Chani would go out and collect his dinner from the yard, which Youngbin would turn into something resembling a salad to try to minimize the humiliation Rowoon felt in the situation.
Inseong was initially full of optimism that there was nothing they couldn’t overcome with enough determination and research, but as weeks turned into months of being Rowoon’s hands, collecting sources and turning pages as Rowoon scoured ancient texts for some clue to how to overcome the spell, even he started to become dejected.
“Didn’t the witch say you just need your true love to break the curse?” Hwiyoung asked, “I can make a dating profile for you.”
Rowoon stared at him unbelievingly. “And say what? 538-year-old polyglot vampire-turned-cow looking for a long-term relationship. Needs a partner willing to be the hands in the relationship and is not put off by cud-chewing.”
“Oh, well...” Hwiyoung wilted, “I was just trying to help.”
“I know, I’m sorry.”
Rowoon had changed in more ways than one.
The first time he said thank you, Inseong had ran to get a thermometer to check if the master of the house was running a fever and delirious.
It didn’t take long for them to get used to this more grateful and considerate version of him, and by the anniversary of Rowoon’s transformation, they had nearly forgotten their old way of life, hidden away from society in this secluded mansion.
Zuho was lost.
Totally and utterly lost.
“Damn that idiot kid,” he muttered under his breath.
He shook the compass in his hand, hoping beyond all hope that it would magically start working again. He and the other scout leaders had literally just last night around the campfire told the boys the ghost story that had arisen around the mysterious disappearance of multiple people from the nearby towns.
What was the good of these ghost stories if it didn’t deter the kids from wandering off to explore the woods on their own?
“My grandma told me that her neighbor didn’t even remember that she’d been married, when her daughter came home from university and asked what had happened to her dad,” Seunghyub had recounted in his low, slow voice that was made for ghost stories. The sharp lines of his face casting odd shadows in the firelight had only accentuated the creepiness of the story.
Zuho shivered. How sad it would be if someone you loved disappeared and you didn’t even know.
He looked around again, hoping to catch a glimpse of some familiar landmark.
A flash of color caught his eye.
Zuho pushed through the heavy brush to investigate.
A rose bush? What was a rose bush doing in the middle of nowhere?
He crouched down to examine the bloom. It was an unusual color for a rose, bright red verging on orange, just like the ones growing outside his house.
He’d tried to find out what variety they were, had done extensive research online and asked the florist in town, but had never been able to identify them.
Apparently, it was native to this area. Who’d have thought?
Zuho fished his pocketknife out of his pants and carefully cut the flower’s stem. He’d need to take it home to make a better comparison.
“Hey! Stop that!”
Zuho started at the sudden exclamation and stumbled backward into another rose bush.
His breath caught in his throat.
A huge mansion lay directly ahead of him through the foliage.
What the hell? How could he have missed seeing the structure?
He gingerly pulled himself out of the bush, taking inventory of the myriad of scratches peppering his body, only to be startled back again as a football whizzed past his head.
“See! Look what you’ve done now!”
“Aiish, I’ll get it. Calm yourself down!”
Zuho hurried to scramble behind a tree as the voice and accompanying footsteps drew closer.
“Oh no, the roses,” the man’s voice carried a twinge of despair, “he’s gonna kill me.”
Zuho peeked around the tree. A man stood not three feet away from him, surveying the damage his body had done to the bushes.
Zuho gulped.
The man’s caramel-tanned chest was fully bare and glistening with sweat, accentuating the perfectly defined pectoral and abdominal muscles. The sculpted body sharply contrasted the softness of the man’s sorrowful expression.
A pang of guilt swept over Zuho. He couldn’t let this stranger take the fall for his destruction. He was a scout leader after all, and, as such, needed to take responsibility for his actions. He stepped out from behind the tree.
“I’m sorry, that was my fault,” he said, eyes lowered, partly to emulate a bow of contrition and partly to avoid being caught staring at the man’s chest, “I was admiring the roses and fell into them.”
“Oh! I don’t know you.”
Zuho look up to see the surprise in his eyes, “No, I suppose you don’t,” he breathed out, “I’m Zuho.”
“Jaeyoon,” the beautiful man introduced himself, “You’re bleeding.”
“I am,” Zuho agreed, “I... roses,” he gestured helplessly at the thorny bushes.
“Right. We can get you patched up at the house.”
Zuho would never in a million years have called the great stone structure a house. A house was his cozy little two-bedroom bungalow just off the village green and across the street from his beloved library. This was a castle. How something this big and extravagant could exist unknown in these parts was beyond his comprehension.
“Do you live here?”
“We all do,” the man gestured at a handful of other young men lounging around the expansive yard.
“Yah, Jaeyoon! Pass the ball!” one of the guys yelled.
“Oh, I forgot the ball,” he facepalmed himself, “we were playing shirts versus skins.”
Zuho looked around in confusion, “Where are the shirts?”
“Haha, you’re funny. Inseong will like you, and that is very important around here.”
“Inseong? Is he the one who owns all of this?”
“God, no, but, if he likes you, he’ll persuade Master to let you stay.”
A sense of unease drifted into Zuho’s consciousness. Something felt off about this place. It seemed impossible that, despite having lived so close all his life, he’d never known about a massive mansion full of gorgeous men in the middle of the forest. What was with the secrecy and why should he care so much about staying? Had he unwittingly stumbled into a cult?
He briefly considered turning around and running away, but he was still lost. He needed to find a map.
He followed his guide through a side door that led to a large kitchen.
Jaeyoon went straight to the cupboards and started rummaging through them. “I know it’s around here somewhere,” he muttered to himself.
“What are you looking for?”
“Oh, Youngbin has a special elixir for closing wounds. It’s amazing.”
Zuho craned his neck, trying to get a good look at the back of his arms.
“I’m sure it’s fine,” he said, “They’re only superficial scratches after all. If you could just point me in the direction of town, I’ll get out of your way.”
“No!”
The door leading to the rest of the building swung open, spewing two anxious-looking men into the room.
“What do you think you’re doing, Jaeyoon?” the taller man exclaimed, rushing to open the windows and door to the outside, “I don’t know where you found this man, but he reeks.”
Zuho briefly raised his arm and took a surreptitious sniff. He didn’t smell that bad, the thought, even after wandering through the woods as long as he had.
“Youngbin, go to the garden and get as much lemongrass and basil as you can find. We’ll need buckets to clean this room. Jaeyoon, what are you still doing here, letting him bleed all over the kitchen? Take your boy to your room. I’ll be up in a bit to sort things out.”
Jaeyoon put a hand on Zuho’s arm and directed him from the room. Zuho followed meekly. The wild overreaction to him had so thoroughly befuddled him that he didn’t question the fact that he was following a stranger through a massive stone mansion that he’d never known existed until today despite having lived this close to it all his life.
“I’ve got the furthest bedroom,” Jaeyoon said apologetically after completely what felt like an hour of wandering through hallways, doors, and staircases, “because I’m Type O,” he added, as if it explained anything.
It didn’t.
“Huh, me too,” Zuho decided to be polite and go with the weird direction his companion had taken the conversation.
“Yeah, I figured,” Jaeyoon flung himself onto his bed, “what with the way Inseong flipped out just now. He’s not usually like that. Master is his first priority, but he takes really good care of the rest of us.”
“So now what?” Youngbin glanced up from the mortar and pestle he was using to release the fragrance from the potent herbs.
“Well, he can’t be allowed to leave now,” Inseong said what they’d both realized, “he’s seen too much.”
“He is kinda cute, don’t you think?”
Inseong groaned. “I’m not going down that path again. After all the trouble I went through trying to keep Master Rowoon away from Jaeyoon, I vowed to never let myself be tempted by another one of them.”
“I get that,” Youngbin acknowledged, “but it’s different now. Master isn’t going to be preying on him.”
“No, but what about when the curse is lifted?”
Youngbin didn’t have an answer to that or to the unspoken question, What if things never get back to normal?
Rowoon was sitting in wait as Inseong entered his chambers to help him get ready for bed.
“So, who got injured today?” he asked casually, smiling at the look of panic that crossed his servant’s face. “You didn’t think I wouldn’t know your tricks for disguising the smell of blood, did you?”
Inseong’s shoulders dropped. “Sorry, I was hoping to spare you some distress.”
Inseong’s concern was touching but unnecessary.
“Thank you, but I’m over grieving for my past life,” Rowoon stated determinedly, “I’m making the most of this situation from here on out. I have you and the boys to help me and provide company; this current lifestyle is surprisingly sustainable; and we are well hidden from the rest of the world here. There’s no point in letting myself be depressed anymore.”
“About that...” Inseong spoke hesitantly, “It seems that the defensive charms are starting to fail. Someone wandered into the rose garden today on accident.”
A sense of dread passed between them.
Rowoon understood the consequences.
If this place was discovered, people would come out to see it, and someone was bound to remember attending a party here and a friend or acquaintance who had taken up the host’s offer to spend the night never to be seen or heard from again.
From there it would only be a matter of simple calculation to realize what had been going on here.
“Would you like to read before bed?” Inseong offered, having finished turning down the bedsheets.
Rowoon shook his head, dismissing him, and settled in for a long, restless night.
Zuho was lost.
Again.
What the hell was wrong with his ability to maintain any sense of direction?
He’d been in this mansion for a week now, and he still couldn’t find his way around without one of the guys helping him.
At least the others didn’t seem to mind guiding him. In fact, it was rather more difficult to find time for himself.
Other than Inseong, who seemed unable or unwilling to warm up to him, everyone had been very friendly and helpful.
Except when it came to trying to get directions back home.
Somehow none of the men had ever heard of the town he lived in.
Zuho found that hard to believe, but there wasn’t anything to do about it. Instead, he found himself wandering the hallways of this mansion, having shaken off Dawon somewhere near the kitchen, trying to find the mysterious Master of the house that everyone talked about but wouldn’t let him meet. If anyone knew how to get back to town it would be the man who owned this place.
If he could only find his way.
He pushed another door open and gasped.
If he’d been asked to describe the place of his dreams, it would have paled in comparison to room in which he now found himself.
Every square meter of wall was covered by books and plush armchairs and a chess set were perfectly positioned for the view of the gardens from the large bay window.
Zuho reverently tiptoed over to one of the bookshelves to examine the contents. Science, philosophy, religion, classic literature from all over the world spanned the length of the room, many of them first editions.
He thought he might have died.
Wandering around the room for a bit, Zuho found a pair of gloves. The librarian in him sighed with relief. At least his host wasn’t a barbarian. He put them on and pulled down his first volume.
After that, Zuho spent every day he could exploring the library.
He still hadn’t found the Master, but now he was much more curious about the mysterious man. He daydreamed of sitting with him, discussing the merits and flaws of the great thinkers whose works now sat on these shelves. Surely, he was the most interesting man in the world to even possess such a collection, and Zuho ached to meet him.
He paused over the chessboard. He’d been playing against an unknown opponent for several days now. On a whim, he’d made an opening move only to find a response the next time he visited the library. They’d been playing ever since.
He studied the game carefully. He was running out of moves. His opponent truly knew his way around a board. Resigned, he settled for a defensive option, knowing that regardless of his choice, the match would be over in a day or two, then he returned to a chair and settled in with a book.
"How is our guest doing?” Rowoon asked as Youngbin and Inseong arrived with his dinner.
“Same as usual,” Inseong replied, “Still hasn’t asked about going home since finding the library.”
“You know,” Youngbin smirked as he set a bowl of greens in front of Rowoon, “you could just ask him yourself instead of interrogating us at every meal.”
Rowoon hung his head. He knew he was being a wimp, afraid of rejection from a mere human man, but he couldn’t help that he had grown to care what the man might think of him. Without his charm and without his looks, who knew how Zuho might respond.
“He’s bound to see you at some point,” Youngbin pointed out, “better to do it on your own terms, don’t you think?”
It was a good argument. A really good argument.
“And if things go south, we can make him disappear, even if I have to hunt down that witch for a memory potion myself,” Inseong promised.
“Okay,” Rowoon agreed decisively, “Have him come to the library tonight. I’ll see him after my evening rumination.”
Nervous knots filled Zuho’s stomach as he readied himself for meeting Master.
He hadn’t been this excited about another person since, well... surely, he’d gone on a date before. These feelings felt familiar, but he could not for the life of him associate a person to those feelings.
He pushed the oddness to the side. There seemed to be a lot of gaps in his memories, but he didn’t have time for that now. Instead, he put on the outfit he’d borrowed from Dawon after rejecting all the other guys’ closets, brushed his teeth, and smoothed his hair out of his eyes. Hopefully he looked good enough. It was hard to tell just from the tiny mirror everyone shared.
He made his way down to the library. It was way too early, but Inseong had said sometime between 7 and 7:30, so he wasn’t taking any chances.
He weighed his options. When the master arrived, should he be sitting, standing, reading, maybe studying the chessboard? Standing would probably be best to show off his stature. He could angle his head to display his profile, his strongest feature, if everyone were to be believed. He got into position and waited, heart pounding out of his chest.
It seemed like an eternity, but he finally heard the door creak open.
“Zuho?” a soft warm voice spoke his name.
Zuho turned to greet his host. Then he hit the floor with a loud thud.
Rowoon stared in horror as the man passed out in front of him. He called frantically for Inseong, unable to provide assistance without proper hands.
“We can move him out of your way,” Inseong was all business when he arrived.
“No,” Rowoon felt horribly responsible, “take him to my room. It’s closer. I can wait here until he wakes up, in case he doesn’t want to see me.”
Inseong roped a couple of his boys who had gathered around into helping him carry Zuho.
Rowoon sunk into his easy chair. He should have let Inseong give him a heads-up, but then again, how do you warn someone of something like this? It was unnatural. He was a freak. Of course, the one chance he had to make friends with someone without his charm coming between them he had to screw up.
“Master,” Inseong spoke from the entrance, “he’s awake and ready to see you now.”
Rowoon scrambled up and rushed to his room.
Zuho was sitting on the edge of the bed surrounded by the others. He blinked several times at the sight of Rowoon.
“That wasn’t the impression I was hoping to make,” Zuho said wryly, “I am really sorry, if I offended you.”
Rowoon let out a breath of air he hadn’t realized he was holding.
“No, not at all. It is to be expected,” he assured the young man. “Would you join me tomorrow then? We can try this again.”
Zuho smiled gratefully. “I would love that, Master...”
“Just Rowoon.”
“Thank God,” Zuho muttered, “Yes, I will see you tomorrow, Rowoon.”
Within days Rowoon and Zuho became inseparable. Once Zuho realized how helpless Rowoon was to do anything that required hands, he quickly volunteered his services. Together, they spent hours in the library, Zuho turning pages while Rowoon translated and read ancient texts to him.
“I think they’re falling in love,” Hwiyoung remarked upon observing Zuho persuading Rowoon to get some fresh air outside.
“What do you know about falling in love?” Chani scoffed.
“I will have you know that I have watched a lot of movies.”
Seeing the roses again reminded Zuho of how he had ended up stumbling onto this place, and he recounted the series of misadventures to an attentive Rowoon.
“I’d been planning on comparing the roses to the ones I have at my house,” he concluded, “You know what? We should go together, and I can show you my life and pack up some of my things to bring back. I’m sure the guys would appreciate not having to share everything with me. It would be nice.”
Rowoon froze.
“I can’t leave,” he said.
“We could disguise you or go in the middle of the night so no one sees you,” Zuho insisted.
“No,” Rowoon said firmly, “absolutely not.”
The disappointment that crossed Zuho’s face devastated Rowoon’s soul. For the rest of the day, it ate at him that he had made Zuho sad. So, by the time they sat down for their evening chess match, Rowoon had another proposition ready.
“Would you really want to come back, if you went home?” he asked carefully.
“Yes,” Zuho said, “I love it here, and you have become a very precious person to me.”
“How long would you need?”
“Are you coming?”
“No.”
“Three days?”
Rowoon nodded and signaled for Zuho to follow him. He led him to his bedroom and pointed out the small box on his dresser.
“Open that and find the ruby signet ring for me.”
Zuho obeyed and quickly located the piece of jewelry.
“I want you to wear that while you’re gone, so that you don’t forget me,” Rowoon instructed. “I also don’t want you to get lost. There should be a compass in there that will always lead you back here.”
The compass hung off a gold chain, and Zuho clasped it around his neck.
“Thank you!” he exclaimed, throwing his arms around Rowoon in a hug, “I will be back before you know it.”
Inseong was skeptical when asked to escort Zuho home.
“Do you really think you can trust him?” he asked Rowoon.
“Yes,” Rowoon affirmed, “but even if I didn’t. I wouldn’t have been able to not let him go.”
Zuho was thrilled to be back at his little house, but the first thing he did was run over to the library to tender his resignation.
At the reference counter, Cha Hun’s eyes widened as he looked up over his spectacles at Zuho. “What are you doing back?” he asked, “You burned a lot of bridges here with your little disappearing act.”
Zuho grimaced. “I didn’t mean to. I was lost and then got sidetracked,” he said vaguely, trying to follow Inseong’s directives that he was under no circumstances allowed to tell anyone where he’d been.
“For four months?” Hun pressed, “People thought you were dead. I’ve been taking care of your cat.”
“Oh, shit!” the blood drained from Zuho’s face, “I forgot about Huru! Is he okay?”
“He’s more than okay. Romangie is having kittens now. What the hell were you thinking not getting him neutered?”
“He was neutered!” Zuho insisted.
“Oh, well maybe it was one of my parents’ cats. They’re always picking up strays.”
“Where is he now?” Zuho asked.
“My sister is cat-sitting today.”
Zuho thanked him and went to pick up Huru. The cat was definitely a single child and seemed quite traumatized by the past four months.
There was a lot to get done in the three days he was given. He packed up his essentials and cleaned the house thoroughly. He figured he could put it up to lease and hire someone to manage the property while he was gone. That way it would still serve a purpose.
Word quickly spread that he had returned and soon he had all sorts of visitors coming around to find out where he’d been. Seunghyub brought the scout troop over to help out.
“You’re really only taking this?” Seunghyub asked curiously, “and the rest is going to storage?
Zuho nodded affirmatively.
“I have most everything I would need where I’m going.”
“Why won’t you tell me where that is?” Seunghyub insisted, “I’m your best friend.”
“It’s not my place to tell.”
Seunghyub’s eyes lit up in realization. “You’re moving in with your boyfriend!” he exclaimed.
Zuho blushed, and he acutely felt the weight of Rowoon’s ring on his hand. “I’m not sure what we are, yet, but yes, I met someone while I was away.”
“Wait,” Seunghyub looked confused, “You’re moving in with someone you just met? Whatever happened to your boyfriend?”
“I’ve never had a boyfriend,” Zuho stated, even as a sense of déjà vu swept over him again. It had been happening a lot lately. A vague feeling of familiarity that would pop up periodically, particularly when Inseong and his boys, as Rowoon liked to call them, were laying on the PDA. He chalked it up to his loneliness feeding the imagination.
“Huh, that’s weird. For some reason it seemed like you had.”
“Wishful thinking, I suppose?”
“I guess.” Seunghyub didn’t seem convinced, but also didn’t press him on it any further.
As the time to return drew closer, Zuho started having second thoughts. What was he doing, giving up everything he had here to go live with people he really hadn’t known that long? It had seemed like a perfectly reasonable decision back when he was at the mansion, but now, with the way everyone was reacting to his decision, he wondered if it might have been premature. It wasn’t like Rowoon had given any indication that he wanted to take their relationship anywhere, and there were still a lot of unexplained oddities around the whole situation.
Thus, when Seunghyub begged him to stay the weekend to attend awards night for the scout troop, he agreed. Rowoon would understand, he reasoned.
Every day that he stayed, however, the ring seemed to get heavier on his hand.
Eventually, he took it off and packed it away in a box.
A somber mood had fallen over the mansion and its occupants. Inseong was barely able to get Rowoon to eat, let alone get out of bed.
The first three days of Zuho’s absence, Rowoon had missed him terribly, but as days and weeks beyond his promised return passed, he sunk into a depression even worse than when he had been cursed by the witch.
Inseong was worried.
He had believed that his master was essentially immortal, but, as he watched him grow weaker and weaker, he had to rethink his suppositions.
He offered to go bring Zuho back, but Rowoon forbade it, saying that it would be worse to know that Zuho was with him against his will.
Finally, Inseong reached his limit and sent everyone out to find Yoo Taeyang and persuade him to sell them a memory potion to wipe Zuho from Rowoon’s mind.
“We need to find you a boyfriend.”
Ever since Seunghyub had started dating, it seemed to be his mission to get everyone he knew partnered off and as happy as himself.
Zuho grunted noncommittally. His mind flitted to the time he had spent with Rowoon. It didn’t seem possible to find someone as interesting and enjoyable as he had been. But every time he thought about returning, the shame of having broken his promise weighed heavily upon him. Rowoon must hate him.
“I’d rather not talk about it,” he said, mumbling into his beer.
“Sorry,” Seunghyub apologized and changed the subject. “Say, does that guy look familiar to you?”
Zuho turned to see where his friend was looking and nearly dropped his cup.
Dawon was standing near the door of the restaurant talking to another customer.
Zuho slid down in his seat, hoping that the booth hid him.
“Wait, I know!” Seunghyub exclaimed, “From the party Hwan and I went to a few years back. Remember? You were sick, so you couldn’t come.”
“Hwan?” Zuho tested the name on tongue. It sounded really familiar.
“Huh, I wonder what he’s up to these days. I can’t believe he ghosted you like that,” Seunghyub mused. “Gosh, I haven’t thought about him in forever. No wonder you’re so reluctant to get into another relationship. Talk about trauma.”
Zuho sat in stunned silence as the memories flooded back.
He remembered everything now. Their first date, adopting Huru together, moving here to Hwan’s hometown. It seemed impossible that he could have forgotten him, but he knew the brain was more than capable of building protective barriers.
Zuho slowly got up and walked out of the restaurant in a daze.
The pain in his heart was one thing, but what hurt more was the realization that Rowoon could be feeling that way about the way he had abandoned him. He had to make things right.
A quick detour to pick up Huru and Zuho was on his way, following the compass and his heart back to the mysterious mansion in the woods.
Inseong’s face was unreadable when he led Zuho through the building to Rowoon’s bedroom.
Rowoon lay deathly still, pale and weak. Tears filled Zuho’s eyes as he ran to his side. He couldn’t bear to see his vibrant friend in such a state.
“I’m so sorry,” he sobbed, “I was scared. Too scared of abandonment that I went and abandoned you instead. I love you, Rowoon. I don’t blame you if you can’t love me back, but I promise I will never leave you of my own will again.”
He sunk to his knees beside the bed, tears blinding his eyes. He could feel Rowoon’s judgement deep in his soul and he couldn’t bear it.
“Thank you,” Rowoon said softly.
A hand caressed Zuho’s cheek, and he looked up in surprise.
“I’ve been wanting to do that for forever.”
The most perfectly beautiful man Zuho had ever seen was in front of him, speaking in Rowoon’s voice.
“Wh-what?” he stammered.
“You didn’t think that was my true form, did you?” he said in a mildly amused voice, “Can you still love me looking like this?”
“Rowoon?” Zuho asked in disbelief.
The man nodded, fighting back the tears that were threatening to spill from his eyes.
Zuho reached out a hand to touch Rowoon’s face and leaned forward to sample his lips with a kiss.
"Yes,” he said finally with a smile, “I think I can tolerate this face.”