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Joong-gil’s heart clenches when he sees Ryeon fall.
What had started as a textbook escort had snowballed into this current mess, and he wanted nothing more than to put this fuck up behind him.
This entire case had been a mess from the start. From that half-dead human mucking things up and nearly killing himself and Ryoen letting him run wild without properly educating the buffoon to his own assistants making an embarrassingly rookie mistake and letting a soul escape.
The only thing that had briefly mollified his ire was the unexpected boon of the Reaper’s Guarantee of Responsibility in which he would be able to call on Ryeon for a favor at his discretion. It was more proof that Ryoen and the Risk Management team were unfit to exist in Jumadeung; that Ryeon had betrayed his trust certainly had nothing to do with it.
Nothing about the contract he and Ryeon had agreed to was fair (and he was sure he was going to get scolded about it from the Director at some point), so he kept his distance to give a semblance of fairness - certainly her boys would become distracted by his presence; but with the two hour mark coming to a close, he finds himself becoming antsy.
Finding her had always been easy for him; she was like a steady flame amongst the flickering lights of souls in the Landing of the Living. He flickers in just in time to see her fall, to see that boy run to her with a shout. His vision tunnels; he doesn’t even register that his feet are moving.
...
Jun-woong is panicking. Full blown ‘don’t know what to do, someone, anyone please help!’ panicking. He shouts, hoping someone will be able to hear him. Ryeon’s eyes are fluttering but she’s quickly losing consciousness, and what happens when Reapers are hurt like this!? Can Reapers be hurt?? Will she be okay!?
He’s about to shout for Ryung-gu when he hears the soft whoosh that normally marks the appearance of a Reaper. The relief he feels is short lived as he recognizes who is now before him.
Park Joong-gil. Any relief he feels is quickly replaced by a thunderclap of dread.
He knows that the RM team is not on the best terms with the rest of Jumadeung and the feeling seems to be compounded with the Manager of the Escort team, Park Joong-gil. Any feelings of awe and coolness Jun-woong had initially felt towards the department had since dried up with his multiple interactions of various departmental members.
Most of the Escort team were cocky, arrogant, and rude. And many seemed to think themselves above the RM team - there were many times Ryung-gu had sharply corrected them when speaking on Ryeon. Jun-woong often found himself doing the same with other departments. It bothered him that the other departments could be so nice to him in one breath then so casually cold toward Ryeon in the next. Was she also not a manager? Did she also not deserve some modicum of respect?
And what was so bad about his manager in the first place? Sure, she was cold at first but the more Jun-woong worked with her, the more he saw just how dedicated she was to her work. But no one seemed to have bad blood towards the RM team quite like Manager Park Joong-gil. Jun-woong wants to call for Ryung-gu but no sound leaves his mouth. Please, he thinks. Please help. Who he’s pleading to, Jun-woong isn’t entirely sure.
...
Joong-gil sees the boy hovering over Ryeon and his lip curls.
“Move.” He orders but the boy doesn’t comply. If anything, he crouches over her even more protectively - like a dog protecting its master.
“Move, or I will move you.” Joong-gil states plainly.
He still has the gall to hesitate before finally stepping back enough, giving Joong-gil room to crouch down before them. His gloved hand brushes pink strands from Ryeon’s face but she doesn’t stir. He lifts her hand where the punishment ring sits, her hand slowly turning a necrotic black, and sighs. For it to have extended so far ….
He should have noticed but he had been too blinded by his fury at her audacity regarding the runaway soul.
The human starts stuttering over himself now, talking about the case, what Ryeon had done, that she had continued to use her powers despite the physical block (and resulting pain) for such a ridiculous endeavor.
“Foolish, as always.” He murmurs.
He can practically see the boy bristle at this.
“Will she,” He stammers. “That is, w-will she be,” He pauses, then whispers, “okay?”
Joong-gil looks to the boy before him; sees the genuine concern shining in his eyes and finds himself saying, “After some rest, yes.”
He breaks eye contact, surprised at his response to this impetuous child. Gently, he slides his arms under Ryeon’s knees; another gently cradling her neck, and stands. The boy hovers over them, halfway between protective man and anxious child.
In other circumstances, Joong-gil might have found this amusing but at this moment, his time is being wasted. Shifting Ryeon until her head lolls onto his shoulder, he says, “Go find Ryung-gu. Finish this case and send the soul on her way.”
“But -”
“Ryeon will be okay. For now, she needs rest. I will see to that.”
He stays long enough to see the tension ease from the human’s shoulders. He does not expect him to grasp his shoulder, and to look Joong-gil straight in the eyes and say, “thank you,” before taking off down the alley. So brazen, that child, He thinks before disappearing from the alley.
…
He’s only been to her quarters once. When Ryeon was first transferred to his team, the Jade Emperor had … suggested he escort her to her accommodations as an act of welcome and solidarity. Something or other about team bonding but it’s been so long Joong-gil can’t recall exactly (though he does recall the look on her face when he had questioned the point in such an endeavor).
Things have … changed since then. Ryeon’s sitting room is a wash of color; a series of vibrant pinks much like herself. The room houses a handful of overstuffed bookshelves with a plush rug and chaise; the small side table with various accouterments adds to the overall aesthetic, making for a perfect reading nook.
He gently eases her onto the chaise and it’s only slightly worrying that she doesn’t stir. How far had she pushed herself?
Joong-gil remembers having to keep an eye on Ryeon in the early days with her tendency to overdo it; he supposes he shouldn’t be so surprised that old habits die hard. He lifts her hand to check the damage and remove the ring when he feels it. Under his fingertips, the smooth silk of thread along with raised skin - scar tissue.
His hand jerks away as if scalded, and he quickly looks to her face as if expecting doe brown eyes to stare at him accusatorily. He only sees rouged lids but he still feels a lingering curl of guilt as he gently grips her wrist and turns it.
The broken red threads have been neatly braided and just under, he can see the roughened skin where his fingertips had initially brushed against. But just past that he sees … more. Thin, faded lines marking her skin. How many attempts, he wonders numbly, how many times until she had succeeded?
When Joong-gil feels the first tears drop down his cheeks, he is surprised. He stumbles back, furiously wiping at his eyes. Why? He backs away, suddenly needing the space; walking back until he knocks into the small side table, knocking over some of the knick knacks. Cursing, Joong-gil immediately picks them up; one of the small jars has broken, but he pays it no heed. He needs to leave, needs to get out of here; he needs space to b r e a t h e.
Ring in hand, Joong-gil flees to his own quarters, willing his heart to calm. He tugs open a drawer and throws the ring in, and it’s only then he sees pink on his fingers. The vibrant pigment is on his hands and the cuff of his suit jacket; the color stands out even more against the inky black of his clothing.
As he stares at the color dusting his fingertips, his fluttering heart slows, calms. Something about this color had always intrigued him; where before Ryeon had always tried so hard to fit in, once the announcement of her heading the RM Team became official, it was as if she had shed the facade of Escort liaison, and stepped into her new role with aplomb.
It had angered him, at first, that she could walk away from her duties (from him) so easily.
Now, he simply missed her. He had been reduced to stalking the halls on the off chance of catching a glimpse of her; seeing her with her small team of loyal misfits stings him more than it should. Others may have had a hard time reading Ryeon, but to him she was an open book. And there was a certain lightness about her. Despite the constant cloud of pressure and threat of failure, he sees Ryeon attack each case with enthusiasm (others may not be able to read her well, but he still could).
And so he continued going out of his way to confront her, to stay in her periphery, remind her of,,, remind her of,
What?
He doesn’t know.
So, Joong-gil sits at his desk staring at the pink pigment on his fingertips; his heart aches, and he doesn’t quite understand why.
...