Archive of Our Own ^beta

Kim Dokja pushed open the door to the art studio, the bell ringing softly as his boots crossed the wooden floor.

"Hello?" he called out, his book pressed against his chest. "Yoo Joonghyuk? Minyoung-nim?"

There was no immediate response.

"Um. Is anyone here?"

Still no response.

He hummed to himself, before deciding to look around the place. He walked down the hallway and turned at the first doorway. When he walked in, a large window took up the wall furthest away from him. Fresh morning light streamed in, the trees outside presenting a pleasant view. Kim Dokja looked around at the shelves and the cupboards. In every corner, there seemed to be buckets and brushes, canvases and easels. Miscellaneous objects had been strewn around the place almost haphazardly. He took off his hooded cloak, opting to hold it with his book rather than to run the risk of getting paint or ink onto it.

There was a table in the middle of the room, closer to the window. A fabric had been laid underneath it. Probably to prevent the floor from getting stained, Kim Dokja thought. Pencils and chalks were placed in boxes, open upon the table. There was a huge sheet of paper on it.

Kim Dokja drew closer in curiosity, making his way around the workbench.

Etched in pencil, drawn onto the paper was a rough sketch of a building. A shop, actually, taken from the view of a shop from the other side of the street. He could tell it was in the process of being neatened up, some lines clearer in their direction and outline. The attention was drawn to a person behind the front counter, busying themselves with work.

Kim Dokja's eyebrows knitted as he peered at it. He knew the place in this drawing.

"Don't touch anything."

He shot upright, straightening his back and looking at the man frowning at him in the doorway.

"Ah, Yoo Joonghyuk," he greeted, clearing his throat. "Sorry, don't mind me. I was trying to find you but I got a bit sidetracked."

The man with the painter's apron tied around him walked over to him. He stopped at his side and looked at the paper Kim Dokja had just been staring at a few moments ago.

"You were looking at this?" he asked.

"Yeah, I was," Kim Dokja answered, turning to face him. "By any chance, is this… the apothecary?"

There was a beat.

"It is," came the reply.

As Yoo Joonghyuk said those words, he seemed to be looking intently at the drawing. Then he looked away and turned promptly towards the exit as if he had started back to life, walking towards it without even sparing Kim Dokja a second glance.

"I don't want you to make a mess of things. Follow me," he said curtly.

Kim Dokja trailed after him with a roll of his eyes. He felt tempted to hit Yoo Joonghyuk on the head with his book. "Why are you so blunt all the time? Y'know, it's what makes people think you're so rude.

Kim Dokja pulled a stool over by the window, propping himself by a small table lit by the sunlight. Yoo Joonghyuk was returning to his easel after taking Kim Dokja's cloak and placing it on another chair. Kim Dokja took a look at the canvas. It was a relatively new project, he assumed, judging by the lack of details.

"It's a study."

Kim Dokja looked at him. "A what?"

Yoo Joonghyuk picked up his palette, picking a relatively big brush from the workbench. "It's just a quick colour study. It's not meant to be polished."

"Oh, I see."

"You sound disappointed. If you're bored already, you’d best go wait somewhere else."

Kim Dokja waved his book. "I've got my book to keep me company if yours fails to keep me entertained," he joked. "And besides, I want to see you work in person."

Yoo Joonghyuk's eyes narrowed. Then with a small humph, he got back to work.

The room settled into a light silence. Kim Dokja watched as the man took his brush and dipped it into the paint, confident in the way he coloured the canvas. He didn't quite understand how artists did it; having the courage to draw the first line and to paint the first stroke; having the faith to see it through to the end; having the strength to scrap it and start anew when it was for the better. When he had to change the colour, he would wash it off, swirling the brush in a paint cup before adding a new colour to the small painting. He took a smaller brush. Yoo Joonghyuk was only painting part of the canvas.

It wasn't too long before Kim Dokja could make out the figure of blue ocean waves, white caps breaking through the surf. Then Yoo Joonghyuk wiped off his brush, taking a new colour and starting another smaller piece. This time, though, it was all red. A few more minutes passed and before Kim Dokja knew it, Yoo Joonghyuk placed the brush into the cup and set down his palette, taking a step back.

On his canvas were four different paintings, all of the same scene—gentle waves washing onto the shore of a beach, stalks of beach grass in the foreground—yet all a drastically different colour scheme.

"They look really nice," Kim Dokja said, breaking the quiet. "They all have different moods."

Yoo Joonghyuk turned, almost startled in nature (though Kim Dokja knew better than to think that true), his eyes landing on the other man whose face was resting on the palm of his hand.

Kim Dokja smiled. "What, did you forget I was here?"

"You…"

"Me."

Yoo Joonghyuk frowned pointedly. "You were watching the whole time?"

"Yes? Was I not supposed to?" Kim Dokja asked, raising an eyebrow.

"I thought you said you were going to be reading."

"And I thought I said I wanted to watch you paint in person."

For a short moment, Yoo Joonghyuk's brows drew into a knot, lips pressed thinly as if in deep thought. Then he moved away to lift the canvas and transferred it to another easel to dry.

"Let's go," Yoo Joonghyuk said as he untied his apron and hung it on a hook by the door.

He took the cloak from the chair and chucked it at Kim Dokja who was in the middle of walking to him.

"Wh— Excuse you—!" he sputtered, grabbing at the cloak and pulling it off his face. He threw his cloak on and chased after Yoo Joonghyuk who was pushing the front door open. He slowed down as they stepped out onto the street. "You know you can just hand it to me? Like a normal person?"

Yoo Joonghyuk kept on walking.

"Hey, Joonghyuk-ah. Don't ignore me," he protested as he gave Yoo Joonghyuk a light smack on the head with his book.

Yoo Joonghyuk inhaled sharply for a moment and turned his face away. Then he breathed out, mumbling something incoherent under his breath with a deep frown.

"I couldn't hear that," Kim Dokja said, mocking innocence. "You frown a lot, you know?"

The painter refused to meet his eye as he forced out of gritted teeth, "One day, I’m going to strangle you."

"Yoo Joonghyuk," Kim Dokja called as he pushed open the door and poked his head around the corner. "Are you sure you're fine to wait here?"

"Yes."

The man was sitting on a bench outside the back of the apothecary where the gardens were, sun shining down, warm and pleasant.
Kim Dokja frowned a little bit. "You don't want to wait somewhere else? Somewhere less lonely?"

Yoo Joonghyuk had a small sketchbook open, scrawling lines into it. He answered simply, not bothering to turn his head. "It's not lonely here. It's quiet and that's good."

"Hm. If you say so," Kim Dokja said, leaving the door to close softly behind him as he made his way to the apothecary gardens.

He walked further along the brick path, looking through the individual patches out in the open space. He checked the underside of the leaves, making sure they were healthy. He parted the branches of the bushes growing in the shade of a tree, searching for any new seedlings that hid in the undergrowth. The fountain was running in the centre of the garden, the gentle rush of the water washing over the stone. What Kim Dokja loved the most about maintaining the gardens was that he'd find small critters and birds every now and then. The usual bees and butterflies were a normal occurrence, but on occasion, he'd spot a wren or a finch bouncing along the ground amongst the various plants.

He made his rounds, plucking a few stems from herbs he needed to gather and placing them into a small basket while weeding out the bad ones.

A sharp pain pierced his temple. He winced. His headache from this morning had gotten worse.

He placed the basket down by the ground, glancing back at Yoo Joonghyuk who seemed preoccupied drawing in his book. Slipping around the corner of the pathway, he disappeared from view.

Kim Dokja breathed in and out. He had needed to give himself some space alone in the small pocket of seclusion granted by a few trees. It had been a little while since he let the spirits talk. He figured it wouldn't hurt to let them talk to him for a few minutes, especially considering the side effects of forcibly shutting them out.

He stood still, closing his eyes and relaxed, feeling them flood back. He opened his eyes.

"Kim Dokja," a familiar voice complained, "I'm still not used to you not responding whenever we talk."

Kim Dokja sat, leaning against the trunk of a tree. "I know. I'm sorry," he sighed, keeping his voice relatively quiet. "But I can't really afford to have people seeing me talking to myself while I'm helping customers at Seolhwa-ssi's apothecary." He looked up at the spirit dressed in pieces of armour who was hanging in the tree by his tail. "Or in the general public for that matter."

The longer strands of the spirit's blonde hair were tied up in a ponytail. Around his head was a thin golden circlet and tucked behind his back, his staff.

He huffed, "Why’d you have to move towns and find a job again?"

"Oh, stop whining Sun Wukong," another voice butted in. "We all agreed to support Kim Dokja on this."

"Hello, Uriel," Kim Dokja smiled.

This spirit had a black dress that cut the front shorter than the front, elegant and simplistic in its form. She folded her large wings behind her. Her halo gleamed a bit when she smiled back at him, green eyes shining.

"Hello to you too, Kim Dokja."

"Well, I for one actually agree with Sun Wukong for once."

A spirit who appeared to look like a brooding teenager in a black hoodie was re-tying the bandage on his arm.

Sun Wukong landed on the floor, slinging an arm around the spirit's shoulder. "Is the Abyssal Black Flame Dragon warming up to me?" he grinned.

The boy shrugged him off, sticking up a finger at him. "As if I'd ever do you the favour of inflating your ego, you cocky monkey."

"Plotter, you've been pretty quiet."

"And you guys all say that I'm the broody chuunibyou."

They all turned to the fourth spirit. He was completely covered by a long cloth that pooled on the floor. His human figure could only just be seen beneath the folds and layers, his eyes glowing white just like the lining of the cloth. Secretive Plotter stood out of the shade from the trees in the sunlight and Kim Dokja frowned as he realised he was looking in the direction where Yoo Joonghyuk would be sitting.

"Plotter?" he called. “Are you looking at Yoo Joonghyuk?"

Secretive Plotter's eyes narrowed very slightly before he turned back to the rest of the spirits and returned to the shade. "It's nothing. Do not worry."

"Ah! Yes, that painter!" Uriel exclaimed as she clapped her hands together. "I think he's sweet, no?"

Sun Wukong leaned on his staff. "His face isn't half bad. But he's a bit arrogant."

"He’s worse than you, hypocrite," Abyssal Black Flame Dragon muttered.

"But he's got a soft spot for our Kim Dokja," she swooned. "Did you see the way he got all flustered after Kim Dokja called him 'Joonghyuk-ah' last week?"

Kim Dokja almost choked on his spit. "What? I-I did?"

Sun Wukong chuckled quietly while Abyssal Black Flame Dragon shoved his hands into the pockets of his hoodie, raising an eyebrow. "You didn't notice?"

He felt his cheeks colour with heat and his heart thump. God, how embarrassing.

"Ah, anyways," he started, changing the topic, "my headache got worse earlier. That's why I'm taking this short break right now."

Kim Dokja placed a hand in front of a small seedling that was beginning to sprout from the ground.

The spirits exchanged glances with each other.

Uriel was the first to respond. Worry permeated her voice. "Did you tell anyone about it?"

The palm of his hand grew warm and a soft tingling sensation spread outwards as an apparition of the seedling reaching upwards materialised from where it sat in the dirt.

"No. I think it has to do with blocking you all out for long periods of time."

It grew taller and taller, branches growing out from the original stem until it grew buds and bloomed into a mature echinacea plant, flowers purple-pink with a cone shaped central disk.

"Then maybe you should tell someone that you can trust so that you can lessen the amount of time you have to shut us out."

"Someone who isn't your mother. Like Lee Seolhwa," suggested Secretive Plotter.

Kim Dokja stayed quiet for a moment. Then he lifted his hand and the mirage melted into thin air, disappearing.

"I'm really sorry."

Sun Wukong frowned, putting away his staff. "For what?"

"Having to force you guys out of my head. For pretending that you don’t exist. I feel bad having to do that to you all."

Abyssal Black Flame Dragon shrugged. "It doesn't hurt us. Besides, we've known you've been able to see, hear and talk to us since you were little. And we've been wandering the world unseen by people for millennia. It's you we're concerned about."

"You're going to need to tell someone at some point. It won't help if you hide it like this," Secretive Plotter said.

The spirits looked at him patiently, almost expectantly.

Kim Dokja swallowed. "I... I'll think about it. Maybe. I don't know. People are afraid of spirits and people who can talk to them. Everyone’s heard of the old stories of people who take advantage of a spirit’s form or spirits that brought about bad luck—"

A light voice called out, disturbing his train of thought. "Dokja-ssi!"

Another was heard a moment later. "Kim Dokja?"

It was Lee Seolhwa and Yoo Joonghyuk.

He scrambled to his feet, eyes wide and frantic as he looked at the spirits. They gave him understanding looks.

Uriel reassured him. "It’s okay."

"Dokja-ssi? Where have you gone? Are these the plants you gathered?" The voice was closer this time.

Nodding before he closed his eyes, Kim Dokja pushed the spirits out of his mind, feeling the dull ache return. When he opened them again, there were no spirits standing in front of him. There was an odd feeling of loneliness in his chest. He brushed it off and dusted his pants and his working apron, walking out into the open clearing of the garden.

"Seolhwa-ssi?"

The woman with her long white hair tied up out of the way turned around. She was holding the basket of plants.

"There you are! I was beginning to think you had decided to run off with the fairies," she smiled.

Kim Dokja glanced at Yoo Joonghyuk who he could see had been searching in another area of the garden. He assumed he decided to help Lee Seolhwa when she asked if he had seen him around. Yoo Joonghyuk's lips were shaped into a frown as they frequently were, but they seemed a bit concerned or confused perhaps. Kim Dokja didn't know why.

He turned back to Lee Seolhwa.

"Sorry, I needed a bit of fresh air so I took a little break after I got the herbs," he apologised.

They began to walk back to the apothecary and as Kim Dokja passed the bench Yoo Joonghyuk was sitting on, he saw the sketchbook laying open.

It was a drawing of a man gathering plants in a garden.

"We'll just have to be more careful now," Secretive Plotter said.

Abyssal Black Flame Dragon frowned, "He better not try to force us out again. He’s passed out every time he’s tried."

Sun Wukong tapped his foot on the ground. "Was blocking out spirits even something that a star speaker should've been able to do?"

Kim Dokja heard the whispering of the spirits hush.

A shadow loomed over Kim Dokja. He looked up from his book, sitting against the side of the couch on the floor.

"Sangah-ssi?"

Her dress fell to her ankles, brown hair tied in a low ponytail and bangs just covering her eyebrows.

"Dokja-ssi, can I talk to you about something?" she asked.

He shot a nervous glance at Uriel who was looking at some of the books on the shelf. She gave a terse nod.

Yoo Sangah seemed unsure on how to continue, looking as if she was trying to choose the right words. Then, she spoke, "Is everything alright between you and Joonghyuk-ssi?"

Kim Dokja paused and glanced around the bookstore.

"The shop is empty. I'm on my break. I don't have any customers to help right now," she assured.

He furrowed his eyebrows a bit. "Why do you ask?"

Yoo Sangah tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. "Well, it's just... I've heard from Seolhwa-ssi that whenever he comes by the apothecary, you two don't talk to each other anymore. Ever since you got really sick a week or two ago, you don't go over to say hello to Yoo Mia, you don't stop by the art studio and it's like you're strangers again. Everyone's been saying you've been keeping to yourself. Yoosung-ie and Gilyoung-ie say you haven't been looking as happy lately. Even I've noticed it."

She sat down on the couch. A silence passed between them.

"What's going on?" she asked.

Kim Dokja breathed in. "I... I just need some space from him."

"Did something happen between you two?"

Kim Dokja let his head fall back on the side of the couch, pulling his knees in as he stared at the ceiling. "Yes. There was something."

There was only the faint noise of people walking around outside the shop to fill the air. He felt the eyes of the spirits on him.

Kim Dokja sighed, "I don't know what to do. I think I'm overthinking it."

"Knowing you, you probably are," she hummed.

He rolled his eyes and huffed a short laugh. "Thanks for the vote of confidence, Sangah-ssi."

Kim Dokja fidgeted with the pages of the book in his hands.

"Sangah-ssi?"

"Yes?"

"I can trust you to have the best interest at heart, right?"

"Of course."

"Okay. Ah. Can I tell you something then?"

Yoo Sangah simply waited for Kim Dokja to say it. And he did.

“I can see spirits," he started quietly. "And they can talk to me and I can talk to them. They're here, right now. I was able to block them out for certain amounts of time but it got to a point where I’d get headaches from doing so. I didn’t tell anyone. The only person who even knew anything was my mother.

“And Yoo Joonghyuk saw me in the garden. He saw me creating a mirage of a tree. I panicked. I blocked out the spirits so that I couldn’t see or hear them. I tried to push past him but I passed out before I reached the apothecary. I… I woke up on his bed with a cold cloth on my forehead. Turns out I ended up with a really bad fever and I was drifting in and out of consciousness. He didn’t even push me on the mirage matter as he nursed me back to health. I haven’t spoken to him since I got better.

“I used to be able to block the spirits out when I was out in public but after I fell sick, I couldn't do it without fainting. I'm afraid because I'm scared that I'll talk to the spirits out of habit and people will cast me out. I know you can’t see them, but people are afraid of something unknown and different. I've seen it before. And I don't want to scare any of you. Please don't tell anyone else."

Kim Dokja kept his eyes shut, afraid he'd be disappointed and hurt if he opened them. He held the book tightly in his grasp.

Yoo Sangah didn’t say anything. Dread settled into his stomach, cold and sickening. She was scared. She didn't want to be his friend. She was going to—

"Can I see?"

"Huh?"

Kim Dokja opened his eyes and looked up over the side of the couch. Yoo Sangah wasn't looking at him in disgust. Or fear. Or even anger.

"Is it alright if you show me one of those mirages you were talking about?"

"You really want to see it? You’re— You’re not scared, or mad?”

“Why would I be? I think it’s really cool.”

“But no one in this town has ever met a star speaker,” Kim Dokja said as he closed his book and laid his palm on the cover, on top of the image of a dragon.

“Then you’ll have to be the first,” Yoo Sangah smiled. “And besides, if everyone really is your friend, they’ll accept it as part of who you
are.”

Kim Dokja let the warmth spread from his palm and the apparition of a baby dragon appeared in front of him. He let it move about, jumping onto the couch next to Yoo Sangah. And yet, she did not flinch. She simply smiled genuinely in wonder.

“Do you have any idea how amazed Yoosung-ie would be if she was seeing this right now?”

Kim Dokja smiled to himself at the thought. “She’s always liked dragons, hasn’t she?”

He removed his hand from the cover of the book and let the dragon fizzle away.

“I’m still worried.”

“That’s okay,” she reassured. “Just make sure you tell everyone else in your own time, alright? And from the sounds of it, Joonghyuk-ssi is more worried than scared or angry. The fact that he didn’t even ask you about it while you were sick or told anyone about what happened says a lot.”

Kim Dokja set the mortal and pestle aside and moved a jar back to the dark walnut shelves. He hung the oil lantern up by the hook next to the window, the flame glinting and whipping about in the confines glass and metal. It was night, the summer air damp and stifling. People were walking about town and Kim Dokja could hear the chatter of bar patrons at the tavern, the buzz of the night market a few blocks down and the clack of the occasional horse being led down to the stable by the inn. Turning his back, Kim Dokja walked over to the shelves, running inventory and double-checking the labels.

“Kim Dokja, there’s a drunk man coming this way,” Uriel cautioned.

Then he heard a thud of a bottle from the counter behind him. "Oiiii… You. Kid o’er there."

Kim Dokja turned around to the sight of a dishevelled man, leaning over the counter. He was too close and almost invasive in his bearing, propping himself up on his cheap bottle of alcohol. But the drunk and freshly-kicked-out-of-the-bar archetype was not too hard to come across when it was one of those nights that pressed people to reach for a mug of cold beer. He was sure he could handle it.

"Yes, how can I help you?"

His voice was sluggish and rough, eyes glazed over. "I don’ want youuur help."

"Uh… alright. Would you like me to get you some water?" Kim Dokja offered, placing a flask back onto the rack.

The man slammed his hands on the bench and the air stirred, his words snarling and snapping like a wild dog. "No! I said I don’ want help! Especially yours!"

He saw Sun Wukong swish his tail with a frown on his face, a ready hand on his staff despite the fact he couldn’t physically do anything.

Kim Dokja’s chest tightened and grew more uneasy as he shifted in his boots. He didn’t want to turn his back on this man.

The drunkard took a swig of alcohol. His face had darkened. "Where’sat lady at?"

Treading on ice, he asked carefully, "Which lady?"

"That— That lady with the… hic… the white hair. The dolly with’a pretty face."

"Ah, Lee Seolhwa? I’m sorry but she’s not here right now."

"Liar!" the drunkard spat, taking the bottle in his hands pointing it at Kim Dokja. "Youuu just want to keep’er to yourself, you dipshit!"

Kim Dokja felt the spirits bristle behind him. He cleared his throat nervously. "Sir, please put the bottle down."

"You don’t get… hic… to tell me what to do!"

Kim Dokja could smell the alcohol, sickenly sweet and rotten, from the man. He pushed down the resurfacing memories.

"Seolhwa-ssi is out visiting a patient. She won’t be back until later tonight." Kim Dokja had to force the words out of his mouth, his chest feeling tight and too small. "If I can’t help you with anything else, please leave."

"Bullshit!" the man hollered, wildly waving the bottle around in a wide sweep. "Why should I… hic… believe a single word you say! Don’t you tell me to leave!"

"Sir, I’m going to have to ask you to stop or leave—"

"I won’t be takin’ orders… from a nutcase who can’t even do his job!"

Kim Dokja’s throat constricted. "Wait, please don’t—"

"And frankly, we’d be better off," he roared, raising his arm, "without someone as incompetent as you!"

The air flared red for a split moment and a sickening weight rushed down Kim Dokja’s back, pulling at his stomach. He recognised that familiar arc of the man’s hand as it reeled back to fling the glass bottle at him. It was some amalgam of dread and pure instinct that forced him to duck, covering his head, eyes wide in adrenaline and fear.

In an instant, the bottle flew overhead and crashed into the shelf behind him. Flasks and jars were knocked off, shattering in a clamour as they hit the ground; the powders, herbs, glass and alcohol, a pitiful mess. Kim Dokja’s eyes were glued onto the cobble floor, his vision burning and throat closing in on itself. He was crouching, tucking his head in his arms and heaving, gasping for air. All he could hear was the ringing in his ears, the faint, distant sound of yelling. He couldn’t tell if it was the man, the spirits, or both.

Move, he thought. Get back up. Do something.

But he was frozen, caught in a suffocating mass that squeezed his lungs and chest. He was back on a dirt floor. He was back in a small house, barely big enough for his family. He was back, hiding beneath his bed with the dust, cradling his head in his arms from loud, shrieking voices and the sound of shattering glass. He was a cowering kid again, sniffling and holding down his sobs; covered in cold sweat, hands clammy and shaking. Everything, nothing, too much. Too much. Too much noise. He heard shouting. Maybe a crowd, maybe the drunk man. He couldn’t tell. The creak of the door opening. He swallowed, blinking hard. Everything was a blur and all he wanted was to breathe — to move.

Through the ringing, he heard the sound of approaching footsteps and for a moment of absolute terror, Kim Dokja closed in on himself. It was the drunkard, come to beat him. The footsteps stopped.

But there was no kick to the gut, no punch to the face, no digging insult. Instead, there was just a firm hand on his shoulder, shaking him slightly.

"Kim Dokja."

He knew that voice. He looked up, letting his arms lower slightly. A man was crouched in front of him. A familiar man.

"He’s gone."

Kim Dokja opened his mouth but nothing came out. He struggled again, taking a second to regain his wits much to his failure. He just closed his mouth, and tried to clear his throat.

He did not look at Yoo Joonghyuk, who’s eyes were looking over his face, unreadable. Then Yoo Joonghyuk looked away and took his hand off his shoulder, walking to the front door of the apothecary. He flipped the sign over.

"Your shift will be ending early tonight. Lee Seolhwa will be running the shop when she is back. And don’t worry or argue about it. Lee Jihye has already gone to get her."

Kim Dokja didn’t know what to say. That is, if he could say anything right now. Awkwardly, as he tried to keep himself balanced, he got back onto his feet. He looked at the mess around him and headed towards the workroom, keeping his eyes stuck to the ground. He avoided looking at the spirits.

“You should talk to him,” Secretive Plotter said.

He grabbed a broom from the cupboard and shouldered past Yoo Joonghyuk.

"Kim Dokja.”

He started sweeping the shards out of the way, trying to get rid of the clutter. He didn’t want to face this right now.

“Kim Dokja, stop.”

He didn’t listen.

“Hey.” A sturdy hand grasped the broom, stopping Kim Dokja from moving it. “Stop that.”

That was the second time tonight, Kim Dokja thought ashamedly to himself.

Yoo Joonghyuk met his eyes and something seemed to soften in his face. “You can tidy this up when you’re fine. Come on,” he said, taking the broom from Kim Dokja’s hands.

He led the two of them through the apothecary and brought him outside to the gardens of herbs and roots behind the shop. He sat Kim Dokja down before heading back inside shortly.

“I told you he was sweet.”

“You can fangirl over him and Kim Dokja later, Uriel,” Abyssal Black Flame Dragon groaned.

Sun Wukong stood in front of Kim Dokja. “Hey. Are you gonna be okay?”

Kim Dokja nodded.

“He really cares about you. I think you owe him some sort of explanation.”

Yoo Joonghyuk opened the door, walking over to Kim Dokja with a glass of water. He sat down next to him and handed it over.

Kim Dokja took a sip.

“Thank you.”

Yoo Joonghyuk turned to him. Here in the garden, the air was cool.

Kim Dokja continued, “You didn’t have to help me. Especially since I’ve been ignoring you for so long. I’m sorry.”

“You don’t need to thank me,” he said.

They sat in silence.

“Tell him already, you idiot,” Abyssal Black Flame Dragon urged.

Kim Dokja felt his chest thump. He didn’t know how to tell him.

It was Yoo Joonghyuk who spoke first.

“What was that? That tree I saw.”

Kim Dokja knew what he was talking about. “It was a mirage. Like an illusion.”

“How do you do it?”

“I don’t know. And I don’t know how to explain it. I’ve just been able to do it for as long as I’ve been able to see and talk to spirits.”

Yoo Joonghyuk frowned slightly. “Were you ever going to tell me?”

“I was but I was just afraid,” Kim Dokja began, fiddling with the rim of the glass. “I didn’t know when to tell you or how. A lot of people in my old town feared me for it. I didn’t want that. I’ll tell the others, but not now.” He breathed in, glancing at Yoo Joonghyuk. “You don’t hate me, do you?”

“No, I don’t hate you.”

“Oh,” he said, blinking owlishly. “Okay.”

The way his worries flushed away at a few words left him feeling stupefied. He placed down the glass of water beside him.

“Can we just sit here… for a while?”

Yoo Joonghyuk replied simply, “As long as you need.”

“Look, it’s the kids!” Uriel called.

“Ahjussi!”

“Wait, Yoosung-ah, you’re going too fast! I’m going to fall over!”

“Don’t hurt yourselves,” Lee Seolhwa smiled as she went back inside the apothecary.

Kim Dokja turned around to see Shin Yoosung and Lee Gilyoung bounding through the garden towards him and Yoo Joonghyuk.

“Hello, you two,” he grinned, ruffling Lee Gilyoung’s hair.

“Are you going to magic a dragon today?” Shin Yoosung whispered excitedly, bouncing on her feet.

Kim Dokja laughed, looking at Yoo Joonghyuk beside him, “I might. Maybe you should ask the painter.”

The corner of Yoo Joonghyuk’s lips lifted the smallest amount. “Well, come on, then. Let’s go.”

“Mia, how come yours looks better than mine?” Lee Gilyoung whined.

“Because I’m just better.”

“I like this kid,” Sun Wukong chuckled.

Abyssal Black Flame Dragon rolled his eyes. “Of course you do.”

“That’s not fair!”

“Gilyoung-ah, if yours looks worse, then you’ll just need to try better,” Shin Yoosung said, crossing her arms.

Kim Dokja laughed quietly as he stood next to Yoo Joonghyuk who was finishing a painting he had been working on for some time.

“I’ve never had to work in an environment so loud.”

“Oh, shut it, you big baby,” Kim Dokja said, though a smile betrayed his words. “A change in scenery never hurt anyone.”

Yoo Joonghyuk hummed, “I never said I didn’t like it.”

“Oh?”

“Anyway, the painting is almost done.”

It was the drawing of the apothecary Kim Dokja had seen the first time he had entered the art studio. Except it was no longer a drawing. Yoo Joonghyuk had turned it into a painting.

“I still can’t get over the fact that I’m the one who’s the focus of the painting.”

“And he made you look especially angelic,” Uriel teased.

“Wh— Uriel!”

Sun Wukong grinned, leaning on his staff, “Looks like you’re his muse, Kim Dokja.”

Kim Dokja groaned. “You guys are the worst.”

“Who? The spirits? What are they saying?” Yoo Joonghyuk asked.

“Nothing, nothing. Don’t worry about it,” he said, waving it off. “They’re just messing with me.”

Kim Dokja felt a light tug on his sleeve. He looked down. It was Lee Gilyoung.

“Hyung, can you do the thing with the magic? We’ve finished our paintings.”

Kim Dokja smiled, walking over to where they had been painting, “Okay. Are you all ready?”

The three kids nodded enthusiastically at him.

“Alright, then.”

He walked over to Lee Gilyoung’s painting first, feeling the familiar warmth spread from his palm. A huge giant mantis larger than the easel itself appeared to have crawled out from his canvas and the children gasped, their little giggles of wonder barely concealed. It made its way past them, passing through the table, tilting its head and clicking its mandibles as it hung upside down from the ceiling above Lee Gilyoung.

Then he walked over to Yoo Mia’s, touching the canvas lightly as a man resembling Yoo Joonghyuk except dressed head to toe in black formed before him. He wore black combat boots, black pants, a tight black shirt and a black coat. He even had a sword.

“Okay, this is a bit weird. Joonghyuk-ah, I think you have a temporary replacement,” Kim Dokja snickered.

“Mia-yah, what is this version of me you’ve made?”

“It’s you, but cooler.”

Yoo Joonghyuk seemed almost taken aback.

“You don’t think your oppa is cool enough as he is?” Kim Dokja asked.

“No, I think he’s cool. This one’s just cooler.”

“He looks like a chuunibyou,” said Abyssal Black Flame Dragon.

Sun Wukong laughed and gave him a hearty pat on the back, much to the spirit’s distaste.

Lee Gilyoung stood in front of the mirage and looked up at it. “He looks like he could kill a sea of monsters with one slash of his sword.”

“Your sister has quite the imagination,” Kim Dokja remarked to Yoo Joonghyuk before he approached Shin Yoosung’s painting.

He touched it and the red claw of a dragon seemed to tear through the canvas. The children hushed in awe. A limb came through the painting, then another, until a head and the whole dragon came out from the canvas, lashing its tail behind it and flexing its wings.

Yoo Joonghyuk glanced up at it before returning to his painting. “Dokja-yah, that dragon is barely big enough to fit in here and this is the biggest room in the studio.”

“Maybe, but the kids love it,” he replied.

Lee Gilyoung and Yoo Mia were wonderstruck, eyes wide as they looked at the creature. The dragon flared its nostrils and lowered its head down to Shin Yoosung who was squealing in excitement. The spirits, too, were staring up at the dragon.

“Can I keep it as a pet?” Abyssal Black Flame Dragon asked.

“I’ll keep the mirages up for a bit longer,” he smiled.

Turning back to Yoo Joonghyuk, Kim Dokja paused to look at the painting.

Yoo Joonghyuk lifted his brush and put it away in the cup. “Did you manage to tell everyone else?”

“Mhm. Got an earful from Sooyoung-ie about her being upset at the fact that she didn’t do enough to make me feel as if I could tell her. I reassured her it wasn’t her fault. Seolhwa-ssi said that there was always something about me she couldn’t place her finger on and she’s glad I told her. Heewon-ssi and Hyunsung-ssi didn’t really mind at all. Han Myungoh overheard me talking to them, though. I don’t think he took it well. But Heewon-ssi scared him pretty good. It went a lot better than I thought it would.”

“Of course, it did. Why would they fear you when you can do things like this?” Yoo Joonghyuk said, gesturing towards the kids as he lifted the canvas and moved it to dry.

Kim Dokja didn’t really know what to say when he was told such things. So he cleared his throat and made his way to the kids.

“Alright. It’s time to pack up,” he said, letting the mirages fizzle away.

“Aw, but I want to play a little bit longer,” Lee Gilyoung frowned.

Yoo Joonghyuk reappeared by Kim Dokja’s side. “You better not have made a mess. Master is not going to be happy if you have.”

“And remember? We’re meeting up for lunch with everyone at the bakery. Hyunsung-ssi said he was going to bake your favourites. Lee Jihye will be there, too.”

Shin Yoosung’s eyes shone immediately. “Really?”

“Yes, really. Now, come on. We don’t want to be late.”

The kids ran off, moving their paintings to dry and cleaning up the brushes as the spirits hustled about, all of them chatting amongst themselves.

Kim Dokja turned to the painter beside him. “Thank you.”

“For what?” Yoo Joonghyuk asked, raising an eyebrow.

“I don’t know. I just felt like saying it,” Kim Dokja replied simply.

He huffed a little smile. “You’re a very strange man, Kim Dokja.”

Something flipped in his stomach when he saw it. Kim Dokja had no idea he could smile like that.

“I know,” he smiled back.