Archive of Our Own

Days at the Yawning Portal are always hectic. 

This was a thought that was always at the forefront of Jisung’s mind, ever since he started working at the tavern. A moment of peace is a rarity when you are manning the bar and an impossibility when you are manning the bar while Chenle is the entertainer in charge of music for the night. 

The thing about Chenle is that he encourages everyone and everything. He gives false gossip to the nosy travelers, sends the weary ones to the counter for a free drink — on Jisung’s tab! — and flirts with the ones who blush the easiest. It is unbelievable. It is the root cause of most of Jisung’s problems in life. 

That is why Jisung is sweeping shards of glass into the neatest pile he can. It all circles back to Chenle. 

“There may be a chance a mistake was made on my part,” Chenle says from where he is perched on his piano seat. Unfortunately for Jisung, the small stage the entertainers occupy is no less than five feet away from the bar counter. “How was I supposed to know he would throw a bottle of ale at you if you tried to break up the fight? The fight he was losing, might I add. If anything he should’a been thanking you and kissing your toes! Quite foolish, I say, to get yourself banned from the Yawning Portal.”

Jisung throws his most scathing glare towards Chenle. It does not phase the entertainer, if anything his grin widens. Chenle is probably the only thing closest to a best friend Jisung has, but trying to get him to admit his wrongdoings is like trying to intimidate an Orc; a battle lost before it has even begun. Telling the entertainer he would have rathered he helped him restrain the man than start playing the piano faster after every punch was thrown would be pointless. 

Thankfully, Chenle is cut off from making further comments as a customer waves Jisung down. Working in a tavern for well over five years means you learn how to work quickly, something he had to pick up on lest he wanted to get kicked out into the street. 

The Yawning Portal is a three-floored tavern with a well planted in the middle of it — that was the main attraction, really — and another three floors of rooms for the travelers to rest in for a small price. There are no shortage of taverns in Waterdeep, they are scattered all around the streets, but there are not many places where you can get an easy entrance to the Undermountain like you can at the Yawning Portal. 

The Undermountain is a dungeon that resides beneath Waterdeep, 23 floors deep and full of magically dangerous creatures. People go there for all sorts of things, be it because they are sent on a mission, looking for someone, or simply going on an adventure. 

(“ The Undermountain is where you go if you have a death wish, ” The tavern and inn keeper, his boss had said to him a few days into the job, “ Avoid it. Pretend like it is not even there. ” That had been the end of the conversation. Jisung was young, too young to talk back, too paralyzed by the fear of the gigantic well in the middle of the floor.) 

Jisung has not gone to the Undermountain. 

The fear had simmered down after seeing groups of travelers go down the well and come back after days, weeks or months. However, to say they all came back unscathed, or even all came back, would be a lie. He had seen a young elven man go down there with a promise to retrieve someone, only to never come back. He likes to think, perhaps naively, that the elf had casted a spell that got him back onto the mainland. 

Jisung is not stupid. He knows what must have happened. 

So he has not gone, because he has no death wish and no business to attend to down there. No amount of curiosity can make him go against his superior’s words. 

He hears a groan and shuts his eyes, knowing he has been caught looking at the well. 

“Lords, quit it with the longing gaze,” Chenle sighs, “The Undermountain isn’t that goddamn exciting for you to be making bedroom eyes at it, fucks sake.” 

Liar . Jisung thinks, watching the way Chenle picks at his nails. Kind, selfless liar. But still a liar. 

Chenle has been to the Undermountain before. He did not go too deep, just for a small mission, but he came back with a dazed look and an entirely different aura about him. Like he had seen things, like he knew things Jisung did not. 

“Not making bedroom eyes,” Jisung mumbles, picks up a clean rag and begins to wipe down the bar counter, “Would that not be strange to you? To live right above the Undermountain and never go?” 

Chenle rolls his eyes so hard it hurts to watch, “We all live right above the Undermountain, numskull.” He takes a seat at the bar counter, in between a human and a dragonborn. “Besides, plenty of people who live in Waterdeep haven’t ventured into any part of the Undermountain. If they don’t need to, they don’t . Hell, I only went there — once — because I was getting a hefty sum of gold. You’re fine with your two feet on the mainland, there’s nothing for you down there.”

You sound like the boss, is what Jisung wants to say. “I know,” He says instead, “I know that. It’s just a stupid thought.”

Chenle frowns. “It’s not stupid,” He counters, his voice mean but his words kind. “You work 10 feet away from it every night, it would be weirder if you weren’t curious.”

Jisung stays quiet, eyes focused on a smudge on the countertop, rag wiping back and forth methodically. 

There is a sigh from across the counter, “Listen, Jisung, you know that if you want to go down you can. You’re 20 now. You’re not a child and no one can stop you from going down there.” Chenle cuts him off before he can even open his mouth, “ No one . Not even the boss.  And you also know I’ll go down there with you if you need someone.”

Taeil saves him from giving Chenle an answer, walking in through the door that leads to the kitchen, “I must be seeing things, the Zhong Chenle I know doesn’t slack off on the job.” 

Chenle hops off the bar seat with a hearty sigh, “Right. Suppose I shouldn’t deprive these sad souls of my music any longer,” He says, ever humble. Jisung snorts as Chenle cracks his knuckles and takes a seat at the piano stool. The gentle notes of the piano begin again and Jisung notes that Taeil has gone back to the kitchen. 

Jisung looks back to the well and wonders if the consequences would be worth it. 

💫

Growing up without a family had been hard. 

At age nine, Jisung was abandoned in the middle of the forest with a kiss to the forehead and an apology falling from his mother’s lips. 

Perhaps he is too forgiving, but Jisung never blamed her. He only vaguely remembers bits and pieces of her, those of which were disappearing more and more as he grew up, but he knew she tried her best. He remembers sitting beside her as she begged for money on cobblestone streets, sleeping in an alleyway tucked between two slim buildings and washing their few articles of clothing in a river. 

He remembers her musing about him becoming a spellcaster when he got older, despite her not being one herself. He remembers the hair that framed her face, the smile on her lips when she got her first job, the tears down her cheeks when she got fired.

The forest had been kinder to him than the streets had ever been. 

He wandered for days and nights. He drank stream water and plucked berries off of bushes. Nature embraced him and he went along willingly. 

Refusing to hurt animals proved to be difficult, his stomach would rumble when his search for fruits and other edible substances dragged on for too long. He was a child with no parents to take care of him, no concept of time and no way to know which fruits were safe to eat and which were poisonous. There were times where he would eat, only to unload the contents of his stomach minutes later, leaving him feeling worse than he did before he ate. Days would go by where he would have no energy to do anything but lie in the grass and stare up at the blue skies through the thick trees, praying for a miracle to a God he did not even know the name of. 

The answer to his prayers came in the form of a fox. 

It stood in the middle of a clearing, between two, tilting trees that met above the animal in an archway. The small, orange fox had its four paws planted on the forest floor and stared at Jisung, through Jisung, waiting patiently. 

Jisung had felt seen. He followed the fox through the forest, keeping a careful distance as the creature instinctively dodged the natural traps of the forest, jumping over exposed tree roots and ducking under a spiky bush. 

He followed the animal’s every move. 

They traveled. They traveled for minutes. Hours, maybe. Days, even. Jisung did not know, following the fox with a one track mind. The fox stopped to drink from a body of water a couple of times, stopped to take a nap under a tree once, too.

It was the first time Jisung thought that, perhaps, he was too trusting. 

Eventually, the fox guided him out of the forest. 

The two of them walked up a path on a steep hill, Jisung’s legs tired and breath coming out heavy. Nevertheless, he continued following the fox. 

They descended down the hill and Jisung’s breath caught in his throat. 

The sight was one to behold. They were met with a Port full of massive boats, small tented shops and people going about their business. Big, brawny men were loading a ship with wooden boxes, the fox and the boy’s presence going undetected by the crowd.

The fox sat down at the end of the path, looked at Jisung, the boat, and then back at Jisung, as if to say, “ Go .” They rested together for a moment, then the fox had gotten up, turned tail and made its way back up the hill. 

Jisung watched until the creature disappeared from his line of sight, and then watched some more, silently asking himself if that would be the last time he would see the orange fox. 

By the time he looked back to the Port, the sun was setting over the big expanse of water and few wooden boxes were left on the ground. The men moved quickly as they packed away all that they needed to bring on the ship. 

A bearded man shouted down to the men on land from the ship, “Aye!” He yelled, “You’re not gettin’ paid by the hour down there! I’d’ve gotten it done faster than yous and I’ve only got one leg! Hurry up.”

Jisung had been only half listening. He saw they were distracted, eyes on the man scolding them, and he took his chance. If he did not get on the ship, did not follow what the fox seemed to be hinting at, he was not sure what would happen to him. With their attention away from the boxes, Jisung ran for it. 

Having lived on the streets meant taking advantage of any situation he could. It meant learning how to be swift and sneaky, but remaining soundless while doing so. It meant sometimes being sly, like a fox. 

His feet took him towards the small pile of boxes before he could think twice about it. Thin bones and a scrawny frame allowed him to fit in a soybean filled box, the discomfort of the goods not registering to him over the heaviness of his breathing and the stinging of his lungs. There was a hole at the top of the box big enough to press his eye against, but all he saw was cloudy skies. He did not think about what may happen to him if the bearded men found him. 

Sweat dripped down his temple as he sat agonizingly still in the wooden box, a sharp twinge of pain shot through his ankle, but he stayed silent. Patient. 

One of the men finally heaved the box into his arms with a grunt and a muttered curse, and Jisung’s heart thudded with every step he was carried. 

It was frightening. It was survival. 

After looking through the hole of the box and seeing nothing but darkness, Jisung fell asleep. It was a sleep that was somewhat unfamiliar to him. The last few slumbers he had experienced had been under open sky, surrounded by nature and God’s beloved creatures, grass under his skin and wind through his hair. This slumber is cold and still. He was squished in a box, sharing his space with soybeans and wood. His ankle hurts then more than ever and his overgrown hair stuck to the sweat that dotted his forehead. 

He yearned for his mother, her soft embrace and comforting words. He wanted to cry, but making a sound risked the possibility of getting caught. 

So he slept. 

When he awoke, there was sunlight. 

Sunlight was pouring through the hole of the wooden box and Jisung scrambled to get a whiff of fresh air, sticking his nose through. It smelled like saltwater and fresh baked goods. Faintly, he wondered how long he had until the men started moving the boxes again. 

Wasting no time, Jisung had put his fingertips to the top and pushed, surprised by how easily the lid lifted off. He quickly counted down from three before hopping out of the box and making a run for it. 

Soybeans had fallen off of his dirty clothing as the men from the ship shouted in confusion, too far to be considered a threat, but close enough to serve as motivation. He ran as fast as his swollen ankle had let him, stomach empty and throat dry. He ran until the soles of his worn out shoes were coming apart. He ran until he felt ill. 

He collapsed far from the Port the ship had been docked at, in a long alleyway near an empty street. His energy was low and he was desperate for food and water. Or shelter, and clean clothes. A bath, perhaps. 

Sleep overtook him once again, eyelids heavy and heart racing. By the time he awoke for the third time that day, it was dark. He slipped out of the alleyway and walked further away from the direction he arrived from. 

It took only a few minutes for him to see the lights, hear the people singing and laughing, and smell the aroma of food and liquor. A big, navy blue sign distracted him momentarily from the bustling city that was in front of him; it read, Welcome to Waterdeep .

💫

Living on the streets since he was a child had taught him a few things, but living on the streets alone since he was nine had taught him much more. 

Jisung is at the ripe age of 11 years old when he gets hired for the first time, a sketchy job given to him by an even sketchier man. He was to deliver an enclosed letter to a man at the Port, no questions asked. Desperate, hungry and sick of washing his clothes in the river, he agrees without hesitation. A simple transaction, money in return for the envelope. It is a straightforward enough demand that Jisung is fairly confident as he departs off to the Port. 

The man he meets at the Port is a tall, slim man with a long cigar hanging out of his mouth, a perpetual frown on his lips. He eyes Jisung’s short body and slim build with mild amusement as he leans against a lamppost. He mocks Jisung, but pays him the right amount and leaves without much of a hassle. 

It goes better than he expected, so Jisung stays in contact with the man who hired him. He gets sent out on more jobs, some dangerous, some as easy as running something down to Waterdeep’s postal service building. He does not have enough money to rent a room at an inn, but he saves his pennies and visits a lady who will wash his clothing for a cheap price. He does not have enough money to afford transportation to get to school, but he stays busy with jobs given to him by past clients, now present employers. 

He gets pushed around by other kids living on the streets, an easy target with no strength and no hardened personality, a boy who stays quiet when his employers underpay and overwork him. 

Jisung is 13 years old when he steals for the first time. 

There is a market in Waterdeep that is open for two days, from morning to late afternoon, traveling merchants and locals alike set up tents and stalls full of handmade items and fresh goods. Waterdeep is always bustling with people, going to and fro as they venture about their day, but never has Jisung seen so many people packed into one street. 

Jisung has just spent the last of his coins on a hat to shield his eyes from the harsh Summer sun during outdoor jobs, walking around with his hands in his pockets and head down low. The heat is harsh on the exposed skin of his nape. He is tired, having walked for some time now. He can feel sweat clinging onto his temples and getting the rim of his newly bought hat wet. He lifts his head up, scanning the street for a short cut so that he can make his exit. 

Out of the corner of his eye, he sees it. 

Garfeen’s Tea Tent , the sign at the top says, Served Cold & Fresh! 

Jisung does not mean to — really, he doesn’t — but his feet take him towards the tent, eyes fixed on the sign. 

Cold. Fresh. 

It has been such a long time since he has had a drink outside of the water that few taverns will give out for free. His eyes drift down, and there they are. An assortment of clay cups sit on the wooden counter of the tent, each of them tightly sealed with a cap for the travelers to bring along with them as they wander around the market. 

He shouldn’t. 

The person behind the counter is laughing along to something a customer says, her smile crooked and eyebrows raised in joy. She gives the customer their change and turns around to prepare the tea. She does not even acknowledge Jisung. 

He shouldn’t. 

She hums along to the Bards that have formed a cluster somewhere outside, becoming entertainers per their own will, she hums like it is her favorite song and not one that she has never heard. 

I shouldn’t , Jisung thinks as he is running away from the tent with a cup of Pale Jade tea clutched tightly in his hand, She seemed so happy and carefree. I shouldn’t steal from her, he thinks as he hears a distressed voice yell after him, ordering, “Stop! Go after that boy!”

It is only when Jisung is slumped against an alleyway wall, cup of tea emptied and a satisfied buzz in his head that he thinks, That was too easy . It is not a good thought, not one that makes him proud. It fills him with guilt, but not enough for him to stop thinking about it. Not enough to stop his next thought, It would be so easy to live like that. 

And it is. 

Jisung is 13 years old when he steals for the first time, and the second time, and the third time. He is 13 years old when he gets chased halfway across Waterdeep by a man with an axe. He is 13 years old when he locks eyes with the man selling apples right before he starts sprinting the other way. He is 13 years old when in his haste to get away after stealing, he bumps into a young girl, her cries following him as he runs. 

He never looks back. 

He is 14 years old the first time he gets caught, the man tackles him to the floor and twists his arm, snatching the loaf of bread from Jisung’s hand. The man puts his foot to the small of Jisung’s back while he waits for the City Watch of Waterdeep to relieve him of the young boy who attempted to steal from him. 

Then, there is a commotion that distracts the man. A shelf of his fresh baked bread had been knocked over onto the ground. He rushes over with a cry of anguish, leaving Jisung breathing heavily on the ground. With the man’s attention away from him, he pushes himself up and spares a glance to the bread on the floor. 

There is a fox. 

It stares at him from where it is sitting on the ground, a few feet away from the knocked over shelf. Jisung turns and runs. 

He does not think about what that may mean. 

He is 15 years old when he enters a tavern for the first time. 

He is 15 and he has been on the streets as long as he can remember. He is 15 and his mother abandoned him six years ago. He is 15 and confused and everywhere he turns he feels like someone is watching him. He is 15 and he has never been a kid.

He is 15 and he plans on finding a rich bastard at the tavern to nick some gold off of, and with that, maybe he will finally leave Waterdeep. 

Jisung has practiced his thievery too many times by now to be nervous, but his palms still sweat as he pushes open the heavy wooden door of the tavern, his heart rate kicks and his eyes dart around. 

He blends in, sits in a dark booth and watches for a while. The notes of a piano echo throughout the building, boisterous laughter and loud voices fill the space between it. 

An hour or so of people watching goes by and Jisung concludes that none of the customers look particularly lavish. His eyes feel heavy and he wants to take his thin blanket out of the shoulder sack that sits on him uncomfortably, but he has a mission. 

Most people have shuffled out by the time his eyes find someone. 

The man sits down at a table, far enough away from the bar counter to not draw attention, but close enough to call for help given he figures Jisung out before the boy can make his run for it. 

The man is all confidence, pale skin and broad shoulders as he looks at the menu options with a blank face. Jewelry adorn his fingers, wrists, neck and ears, gold and shining even in the dull light of the tavern. 

He is Jisung’s target. 

Jisung is 15 and his first time meeting the boss goes a little something like this:

Even up close, his face remains blank, his jewelry remains shiny. “Hello,” Jisung greets, shoulder sack hidden behind him as he bows his head in greeting, “Anything of interest to you on the menu?”

The man stays stoned face, but his eyes show the slightest hint of surprise as he asks, “Are you the waiter?” 

No . “Yes.” Jisung smiled sheepishly, wondering if this man could see right through him, “Though I ask you to bear with me, I am a new hire.”

The man seems to lighten up at that, the stiff line of his shoulders loosening a bit, his lips turning up in what Jisung can guess is a reassuring smile directed at him. 

“Of course,” The man says, voice even, “May I have the steak and potato dish with a glass of the aged red wine?” Jisung leans over to look at the section of the menu the man is pointing at. The watch on the man’s wrist comes off easily, slipping into Jisung’s pocket without a sound. The man does not seem to have noticed. “If it is not too much, could you request for the chef to hold the garlic? I’m afraid I’m a bit sensitive to it these days.”

“No problem at all,” Jisung replies, studying the man. He is sitting there like everything is fine, like all he wants is his steak dinner. Perfect. “I’ll get that in right away, sir.”

Most of Jisung’s quests happen without proper planning, but this is the least amount of planning he has ever done. “Steak and potato dish with a glass of aged red wine,” Jisung recites to a man at the bar counter. He gets a raised eyebrow in return. “And no garlic. Please.” He gets the other eyebrow lifted as well at the last word tacked on, an effort at manners. 

The man behind the bar looks over Jisung’s shoulder quickly, before grunting, “Sure.” He then spins around and makes his way through the door behind the counter, disappearing into what seems like a kitchen. Jisung takes a deep breath and quickly steals a glance at the man at the table. 

The man sits straight as he plucks his rings off of his fingers, sliding them both into the pocket of his sleek, fitted pants. If the watch was easy, he can only assume the rings will be a challenge. 

Jisung holds off until the man is enjoying his meal to make an attempt at the rings. When he comes around to check if the man’s meal is up to par, he slips two of his fingers into the pocket, getting a hold of both of the rings. “I hope that everything is to your liking?” Jisung asks as he awaits the opportunity to slip his hand out of the pocket. 

“It is!” His fingers slowly slip out, “Thank you.” The man grins, the first show of emotions on his face. Jisung’s fingers are almost out. He grins back. 

Fingers close around Jisung’s wrist. 

“A new hire, huh?” The man repeats the lie that Jisung had uttered to him. He is still grinning, “Sit down. Let’s have a chat, shall we?” 

Run . Jisung thinks to himself, If I can just move my feet I can outrun him, I’m sure I can . 

“I’ll even let you keep the watch if you sit down and accompany me while I finish my dinner, how does that sound?” 

Jisung sits down wordlessly. The man’s voice holds no emotion. He can not read him. 

“Stealing from people in a tavern is awfully risky, don’t you think?” The man across from him muses aloud as he swirls his cup of wine in his hand, “Drunken travelers, groups of strong warriors. You could get reported, hurt… or worse. Did you think about that?”

The man must take Jisung’s silence as an answer, “Ah, I see. You should be more mindful, perhaps, for future reference.” He takes a sip of the wine, sets it down and picks up his utensils, giving his attention back to his meal. 

Jisung stares at him dumbly, wide eyed and open mouthed, “That’s it?”

The man spares a short glance up and a weak shrug before putting a piece of steak in his mouth. He hums, satisfied, “That’s it.”

“You’re not going to report me to City Watch?”

“Do you want me to report you to City Watch?” The man asks, eyebrows raised. His voice is filled with mild exasperation. “City Watch is too tough on kids, even for a kid with my watch in his pocket, I quite honestly don’t think that I could do that.” 

Jisung scowls. “I’m not a kid.”

Another sip of red wine. A lull in conversation. 

Jisung is sure they make quite the duo. A man who sits in his chair like he owns the place, eating his steak meal and drinking expensive wine, dressed like he is meeting the Open Lord of Waterdeep. A young boy with crossed arms, a slouched posture and a perturbed look on his face, dressed like he has no business being in a 10 foot radius of the spiffy tavern. 

“How old are you?” The man inquires. 

“15.”

“A child, then. What are you doing alone in Waterdeep?”

Jisung furrows his brows, “That’s none of your business.”

“Okay.” The man replies, “Then what are you doing alone in my tavern, trying to pickpocket me under the guise of being one of my trusted waiters?” 

My tavern . Jisung’s stomach drops. One of my trusted waiters . All of Jisung’s instincts are yelling at him to go. Shouting, Please run! Run as fast as you can! 

“You knew?” Jisung asks, numbly, “You knew the whole time?” 

The man hums an affirmation, “The minute I had seen you out of the corner of my eye.”

The boy on the piano starts to speed the notes up, neck craned in a way that screams discomfort, face joyed as he eyes the duo at the table. Jisung wants out. He wants to leave right now. He wants to go back to seven years old, taken care of, warm and naive. 

“What do you want from me?” Jisung asks, defeated. 

The man’s lips quirk up. He pushes his plate away from him as he answers, “For starters, your name.”

“Park Jisung.” He gives, easily. The man has him between a rock and a hard place, the only thing he can do now is give in. There is no use in fighting. There is no use in running. 

Jisung flinches as the man stands up from his chair, closing the short distance between them as he walks around the table. He stops in front of Jisung, then crouches down, looking up at Jisung with big eyes, eyes that were scary before, but now they look warm. Dark brown with a red tint to them, but so welcoming. 

He sticks his hand out. 

“Hello, Park Jisung, it is a pleasure to meet you. My name is Kim Doyoung.” Jisung’s hand slots in his in a firm handshake, “I think you did a splendid job as my waiter for the night. Are you interested in working here? At the tavern?”

Jisung stares down at the man — Doyoung — the soft smile on his face as he offers a place in his tavern for Jisung. It feels like a dream. 

“You can say no.” Doyoung says to Jisung’s stunned face, “No consequences. You can say no and I’ll let you be on your way, my watch in your pocket and all.”

Jisung thinks of the fox. “Yes.” He replies. Quiet, unsure. Jisung thinks of the fox, the gentle inclination of its head as it nods in confirmation. He clears his throat, says with certainty, “Yes. I’m interested.”

Kim Doyoung smiles, real and big, and shakes his hand once again, “Okay.” He says through a chuckle, “Welcome to the Yawning Portal. I hope you enjoy your time here.”

💫

“All those years ago, when we first met, why did you offer me a job?”

Doyoung halts in his tracks, broom slowing to a stop as he takes the question in. The two of them are cleaning up for the night, Jisung’s hands inches deep in sudsy water as he washes the dishes, Doyoung’s voice filling the empty tavern as he sings along softly to the old radio that switches channels by itself every so often. It is one of Jisung’s favorite parts of the day, the quiet between the two of them as they get to unwind and tidy the place up. 

Tonight, however, something was on his mind. 

He was usually content in keeping to himself as they went about their own business, working together as a two man clean up crew before heading upstairs to their individual rooms on the inn top floor, but this time his curiosity got the best of him. For five years, the answer to this question had been unknown to him. Tonight, the question had spilled out before he could stop it. 

“You were a kid,” Doyoung says, his eyes to the floor as he resumes his sweeping, “You were living on the streets, resorting to stealing as a way to have an income. It wasn’t something I put much thought into. I wanted to, so I did. That’s all there is to it, I suppose.”

Jisung flicks a cluster of bubbles off of his hand as he places a clean dish into the left side of the sink. Damn soap. “Sure,” He considers, “I was 15, though. Only a year later would I have been able to go out on more jobs and receive more money. Legally, I wouldn’t have been a kid anymore. You could have fired me and kicked me out.”

Doyoung huffs out a laugh, his expression one of fond amusement. Jisung was not aware he said anything that was funny. Sometimes he still feels like a child. “No, I couldn’t have,” Doyoung tells him, the same tone coloring his voice that he used when he offered Jisung the job. The tone where he was being careful, kind, like he was talking to a spooked animal. Gentle. He stops sweeping and catches Jisung’s eye, “I offered you a job because you were a kid and no kid deserves to be left to fend for themselves.”

Doyoung abandons the broom, leaning it up against the wall. He walks the short distance to where Jisung now has the faucet turned off and is leaning against the metal tub of the sink, “I kept you around because you are Park Jisung. I got to know you. I got to care for you. You’re a good kid, Jisung.”

Jisung turns his head away, breaking eye contact. Shame? Embarrassment? Overwhelming happiness? Jisung was not sure, but he set his sights back on the dish brush, picking up a dirty plate. He can feel his ears and nape burn. Doyoung does not point it out. 

“Not to mention the staff loved you,” Doyoung continues, either oblivious to or ignoring Jisung’s mortification. “If I had let you go, there would have been hell to pay. Taeil, Kun and Chenle would have had my head on a stick.”

Jisung can feel his ever-growing blush make its way down to his nape and up to his ears. “Quit…” He trails off, feeling so loved and embarrassed about it. 

Doyoung wraps his hand around Jisung’s wrist, putting a stop to his frantic dish scrubbing, “I know it has been years.” His voice is serious, his tone no longer teasing, but still soft, “I just want you to know that even though your family isn’t around, there is a family for you here. At the Yawning Portal. We love you, Jisung. Undeniably, we do. Please don’t ever forget that.”

Humiliatingly, Jisung can feel tears start to build up. It wasn’t that he didn’t already know that. He did. He loved the family of the Yawning Portal long before he knew what it meant to be a family. But Doyoung sounded so earnest, words genuine and filled with unadulterated adoration. It was not often they had deep talks, but when they did, Doyoung always left a lasting impression. His words, his reassurance. 

“I know,” Jisung says, voice thick, “I won’t. Thank you… I —“ He swallows. He wants to say so much, thank him for everything he’s done for him. He wants to ask him more questions, dig deeper until the older man has answered everything that keeps him up at night. At Doyoung’s inquiring look, Jisung sighs and flashes him a short, sincere smile, “Nothing. Just thank you. Seriously.”

Over the years, Doyoung has become an expert in reading Jisung, knows when he needs an extra push, knows when not to pry. So he smiles back, taps the gold watch on Jisung’s wrist once, then twice. With that, he turns around and busies himself with cleaning once again. 

( “Keep it.” Doyoung had told him when Jisung tried to return the watch he had stolen only a week prior. “ It fits you better, don’t you think? Gold isn’t really my color, anyways. Nowadays, I’ve been liking silver. What do you think about silver, Jisung? ” Despite that, Jisung had never seen the other wear silver, sticking to more yellow and rose golds.)

When Jisung is in his bed an hour later, showered and weighed down by sleep, he looks out the window. He looks out, far past the buildings, the markets and the Port. He looks to the forest. He thinks, quietly, hoping it will reach who he needs it to, Thank you . 

💫

It is 9 in the morning when the City Watch guards come into the tavern. 

Jisung fumbles with the glass in his hand. The last time he saw City Watch guards this close was when they were on his ass for sleeping on a park bench in broad daylight. The two in front of him do not look nearly as intimidating, seeing as they are not chasing after him with their shorts swords out, but his fingers tremble nonetheless. 

“Hello,” one of the guards greets. He’s tall and slim but he has an air of confidence around him, something Jisung still lacks. It makes Jisung straighten up a bit, setting the glass down on the counter. “I am Captain Kim Jungwoo with the City Watch. We are looking for one Zhong Chenle. City Watch intel reports that he works here as an entertainer and we have not seemed to be able to track him down otherwise. Is he around?”

Chenle? Jisung is not sure what business Chenle has with the City Watch, or why they would have intel on him. He wonders how much information he should truly give out. 

“Sorry,” Jisung says, face crafted to a careful blank, voice given nothing away. If there is one thing he knows how to do, it is how to lie to authority. “I’m not sure who you’re talking about.” Lie. Another lie, “I can notify a guard if I see him, though. Have a good day.”

There. Respectful with a kind this-conversation-is-over tacked on. Seems he has not lost his touch. 

“Listen, kid.” The second guard butts in. He is shorter than the first, but he has a general ‘do not fuck with me’ aura to him that makes Jisung want to hide behind the bar. “We know Zhong Chenle works here. Is he going to be in today?” Good cop bad cop. Well played. 

However, Jisung is resilient. 

“I’m afraid I can’t say I know who you speak of. Are you sure the Yawning Portal is the place you’re looking for? Perhaps try the Crow’s Nest. It’s down south from here, two streets away. Big crow’s nest as the sign, you really can’t miss it.”

The second guard’s eyes cut away from Jisung to stare at the first guard. They seem to be having a silent conversation, one with the widening of eyes and inclination of heads. The second guard’s jaw clenches as the first guard’s eyebrow raises. It is quite interesting to watch even though it is sort of giving Jisung a mild headache. 

The second guard sighs, “We’ve got a job here for him.” He gives up, “The Waterdeep Adventurers Guild is seeking a Bard to accompany them on a mission and one Zhong Chenle was recommended by a high ranking member of said Guild. Tell him he can take it or leave it.” The first guard slides a closed envelope to Jisung over the counter and adds, “The mission is scheduled in five days time. Please encourage him to respond quickly. Thank you for your time.”

They both bow their heads in gratitude, one more enthusiastic than the other, and turn around to leave. As Jisung peers down to the waxed sealed envelope on the counter, he hears the first guard scold a hushed, “Lords, Yuta, do you have to be so abrupt?”

Kun, one of the Yawning Portal’s other Bards, comes in around 10 a.m to play an acoustic guitar set. The smooth melody mixed with Kun’s voice does wonders for Jisung’s nerves, settling him as much as one can while he’s on the clock. Chenle’s shift does not start until 5 p.m, and it is really a toss up on whether or not he is going to make it on time. If he were not such a musical genius, not to mention a dangerously talented Bard, Jisung reckons Doyoung would have fired him years ago. 

When 5 p.m comes, surprisingly, Chenle strolls in. He is whistling a tune as he shrugs out of his cloak, leaving him in the red, flashy, custom-made entertainers outfit Doyoung had specifically designed for the Bard after he showed up to his shift one too many times in his rattiest articles of clothing. 

“Chenle!” Jisung raises his voice to get the other’s attention, “The City Watch was here for you earlier today!”

Chenle’s face pales, head cocking to the right in a puzzled manner. “The fuck? I’ve been staying out of trouble!” Chenle takes a detour on his route to the piano, approaching the bar counter with furrowed brows. 

Jisung opens his mouth to speak but is quickly interrupted by a customer hailing for him, another shouting an order. He gives Chenle a half shrug and a muted apology before hurrying over to the patron. 

Despite popular belief of taverns being the Nightlife of Waterdeep, the Yawning Portal was a hot spot for travelers and locals alike throughout the afternoon, evening and well into the night. The few that stopped by in the morning were usually headed to the Undermountain, skipping pleasantries with the bartender and heading straight to the well. 

Given this, Jisung has no chance to talk to Chenle about the envelope that was left for him until the Bard is finished with his shift a couple hours later. 

When the clock strikes 8:30 p.m and Chenle scoots off the piano stool with a groan, the Yawning Portal crowd has thinned. Customers still mill around and travelers still gather around the well, but the bar counter is abandoned other than Jisung and a lone dragonborn downing a bottle of ale. 

“Lords, I messed up more on that set than in my entire fuckin’ career,” Chenle bemoans, “All due to the news that the City Watch is on my tail. Couldn’t have saved that tad bit of information until after my shift?”

“Sorry. I didn’t finish, though.” Jisung hardly feels bad. Chenle will be on cloud nine once he hears he’s been after a job. Jisung pulls out the envelope from the pocket of his mini apron, “The City Watch was here to deliver a letter to you. Specifically, they were here to request for you to join the Adventurers Guild on a mission.”

As Jisung predicted, Chenle lights up. “A mission?” He asks, voice filled with thinly veiled excitement, “Did they say what kind?”

Jisung frowns. “No, just that they needed a Bard. I’m sure it is in the letter, though.”

Chenle snatches the letter from Jisung’s hand before he can even finish his sentence, ripping it open without an ounce of gentleness. Jisung winces. 

The Bard unfolds the paper, “ Mr Zhong, We hope for this letter to find you in good faith. Assuming you have been told what is asked of you, the quest is quite simple. There is a man named Pukno who has bouts of knowledge and information we seek, however, he only speaks kindly and open to fellow Bards. We ask for you to accompany the Guild to the Undermountain for all of four days and none more. There will be a gold reward that can be discussed prior to setting out. If you wish to accept this quest, we ask for you to write back and meet with one of the Guild members at the West Park entrance in two nights for more information. Take care of yourself and we hope to hear from you. Best regards, Waterdeep Adventurers Guild. ”

Chenle gnaws on his bottom lip when he finishes reading, eyes continuing to roam over the words on the paper. Jisung flicks him in the center of his forehead and the Bard scowls at him, but does not resume in the assault of his lip. 

“What do you think?” Chenle asks after a few moments, “Sound like a scam to you?”

Jisung huffs a laugh, “I doubt the City Watch would come all the way to the Yawning Portal to deliver a fake letter.”

The Bard shakes his head, “Sure — that’s not what I’m talking about, though. What if it’s a coup? What if I go meet up with this so-called member of the AG and I’m ambushed by City Watch guards?”

The two stare at each other in silence. 

“Lords, what exactly did you do to be so worried about the City Watch being after you?” Jisung questions, narrow eyed. 

Chenle waves him off, eyes looking far away, “Nothing crazy, Doyoung took me in when I was like 14 and I haven’t done anything too illegal since.” Too illegal. Right. “But the City Watch don’t forget, you know? I kicked one of them in the shin when I was nine, who knows, bastard probably has a hit out on me.” A customer takes a seat two stools away from Chenle, shooting him a dirty look at his vulgar language. After too many incidents where Chenle has almost been in the ring with patrons, he has been strongly advised to keep his mouth shut. He ignores her. 

Jisung pauses in conversation to help the customer, taking care of her order quickly. He tries not to leave Chenle to his own devices too often, Lords knows no good would come from it in a tavern full of brawny, sneaky and intelligent travelers. Jisung learned that the hard way. 

“Are you going to take it?” Jisung asks. Chenle is slouched in his seat, fingertips tapping the bar counter as he hums in response, ”I think so,” The Bard answers, short, mind miles away. 

His eyes suddenly snap to meet Jisung, “You’ll come with me, right? When I go to meet the Guild member? Two is better than one if I do get ambushed.” At Jisung’s hesitation, he pushes, ”C’mon, we can be partners in crime, like they do in those books that the boss reads during his breaks.”

Bonnie and Clyde. Joker and Harley Quinn. Lord and Lady Macbeth. Jisung scoffs, “Those partners in crime were in love. If you get ambushed I’m leaving your ass behind.”

Chenle’s mouth curls in a grin, “I didn’t hear a no!”

With a roll of his eyes, Jisung says, “Need I remind you that I’m a Druid? Not very suitable for combat. And I don’t even have my Level 2 license as an Enchanter yet, I still have to graduate and get my apprenticeship. Plus, I’m not even —“

The entertainer groans, “ I get it . Okay, you won’t fight. You won’t have to, if they’re after me then I’m the distraction. You can run as fast as your goddamn feet will take you at the first sign of trouble. Is that a yes I’m hearing or what?” 

Jisung narrows his eyes. Chenle narrows his back. The bartender can only do it for so long before his eyes begin to water. “Fine!” Jisung exclaims. Chenle does a little wiggle in his chair. “Fine! Yes, I’ll go with you. Quit distracting me, I have a job to do.”

Chenle mutters a Yeah, yeah , but as he hops off the stool, he turns and gives Jisung a grateful smile. Jisung gives a small, close mouthed one back and turns to check on a customer. 

💫

The first sign of him being a Druid made itself known when Jisung was 16. 

Becoming a Druid was less of a choice and more of a calling. Jisung had heard of Druids long before he became one himself. Similarly to other classes, some Druids are born with it in their blood. Some feel an intense relationship with nature during a moment in their life. Some receive training from a mentor. 

(“ There are a select few Druids that discover themselves in a different way ,” His mother had told him, fingers combing through his hair as the two of them huddled under an awning to hide from the storm that was encasing them, “ But they are rare. They have a connection to the God of Nature and they follow that God. They worship that God .”)

When he arrived in Waterdeep, he heard stories. Stories about how Druids can turn into nature themselves, channeling their energy into a plant or shapeshifting into an animal. Stories about how Druids can talk to and understand God’s beloved creatures. Stories about Druids disappearing into the forest and never returning, willingly or not. 

He never thought much about class, not even when he was surrounded by people of all different backgrounds, drowning in the city of Waterdeep. 

It was not rare for Jisung to go out and explore Waterdeep after his shift at the tavern. Even after working at the Yawning Portal for over a year, Doyoung insisted that he forgo helping with cleanup, encouraging him to explore the city. 

There were times he did explore. He discovered a Merchant’s shop, the man who ran it had a charismatic smile and just about persuaded Jisung to buy half of the store. He discovered a street corner where Bards got together and played songs, the air filled with violins and flutes that were paired with lovely voices. 

However, Jisung’s favorite place to go was the flower garden, four streets down from the Yawning Portal and owned by a frail, human lady named Sulilda. He would sit on the grass, leaning against the stump of a tree, surrounded by nature on all sides. It was not a huge garden, but it was enough to wash Jisung’s worries away. There were Hydrangeas and Daylilies. Tulips and Hyacinths. Daisies and Petunias. Marigolds and Lavender. Big patches of Roses and few Lilies of the Valley. 

At times, Sulilda would join him in the flower garden. She would speak of the days she would go out and explore, going on about how she was the top of her class at the School of Abjuration. “A power spellcaster, I used to be.” She once said, forlornly, “I am years out of practice. The best I can do is a simple protection spell. It is just me and my garden nowadays.”

One day after his shift at the Yawning Portal, 16 years old and anxiety-ridden, Jisung makes his way to the flower garden. He stops by the shop at the corner to pick up Pale Jade tea and the herbal medicine that Sulilda likes, then hurries to the garden. 

The gate opens after a few tugs, the wood of it creaking as it swings open. Jisung walks through the grass of the garden, the floral scent in the air making him relax instantly. 

He tenses up when he hears a sniffle. 

Clutching his shoulder sack tightly, he picks up the pace as he travels through the garden. He finds Sulilda after only a moment of searching. She is kneeling over a flower bed, hands in front of her like she wanted to touch, but could not. 

“What happened?” Jisung breathes. He looks over Sulilda, making sure she is not hurt, before his eyes roam over to where her hands are hovering. 

The Marigolds are brown and wilted. 

“A gang.” Sulilda says, her voice gentle and calm as it always is. Jisung has spoken to her enough now to recognize the shakiness underlying her words, the thickness to her voice. “They ran through here to get away from authority. Fortunately, they ran mostly through the grass.” Her hands drop from where they were stilled, now resting in her lap. She has soil on the knees of her long dress but she does not seem to mind. “Unfortunately, it will take around 90 nights for the new Marigolds to be planted and to bloom.”

Sulilda sounded defeated. Jisung was not sure what to do, “I’m so sorry.” He offers, feeling out of his element. It was not often he dealt with emotions other than his own. 16 years old and a criminal for half of his life, he was not sure if he was fit for comfort. 

She gets up slowly, taking the hand Jisung offers as she hoists herself up. She has dirt on her hand when she pats Jisung on the head, but he says nothing. “It is not your fault, young man.” She sighs, “Nothing we can do to change it. I will go to a shop tomorrow and look for seeds. Do not worry that head of yours.”

Jisung wants to listen, but the sadness in her voice makes it impossible. 

If Chenle notices him being withdrawn during his shift in the following days, he does not mention it, filling the space with his music and chatter. 

Realistically, there is nothing he can do for Sulilda. The best thing he can do is stay out of her hair for a while. The last thing she needs is something else to stress her out. 

Despite this, he goes back to the flower garden only a week later. 

He enters through the gate, shoulder sack left back at the tavern, his two hands occupied with the drinks he brought. He peeks his head around, searching for Sulilda. She does not always come out to the garden when she hears the old gate open, but when she does she is usually already sitting against a tree by the time Jisung spots her. 

He does not see her, so he ventures out towards where the patch of Marigolds were. It is not difficult to locate the patch, a blank slate amongst a palette of different colors is eye catching. 

He sits down, cross legged and slouched shoulders, heavy as he looks upon the barely sprouted flowers. He unscrews the cap of his tea and takes a sip, wondering if Sulilda is still upset. He wonders if she visits the garden as much as she did before the gang came through. 

He stares at the flower as it grows, the stem growing longer as the yellow changes to orange. It is interesting, Jisung ponders as he watches the flower, just how many stages it goes through before it reaches its full potential. He wonders how long it takes for a florist to consider it perfect, to pluck it out and wrap it in a bouquet. Jisung has always liked the deep orange of the Marigolds, how they reminded him of the freckles on his mother’s face and the sun as it stared down at him. 

Jisung pauses in his thoughts. 

There is an orange Marigold. 

He scrambles onto his hands and knees, leaning down to get a close look at it. It is still orange. He blinks hard, widens his eyes, looks away and then looks back. It continues to stay orange. 

The orange is beautiful. Shiny. Familiar. It is an orange not unlike the fur of a fox. 

Jisung sits back, a little scared, a lot confused. Sulilda is still nowhere to be found. He swallows hard around a lump in his throat and looks back at the patch of flowers. One, long Marigolds sits at the front of the bunch, orange and blooming as if nothing had happened to the patch in the first place. 

His fight or flight instincts are urging him to go, grab the drink and leave the flower garden. Instantly, he shuts them. He has been trying to ignore what his gut has been telling him recently. A year off of the streets and he still can not seem to grasp that not everyone wants to hurt him. He still has to ward off the thoughts that tell him to steal from the register, make a run for it and never look back. He has to push back the thoughts that tell him that the people closest to him are using him, manipulating him. 

His instincts are telling him to flee, but he thinks of Sulilda, how happy she would be if she came out to the garden and saw all of her Marigolds in tip top shape, and he knows he can not leave. Whatever he did to make that flower bloom, he needs to do it again. 

Jisung kneels in front of the lone flower and dozens of sprouts, hands wringing together where they are resting on his thighs. He takes a deep breath, closing his eyes and relaxing his shoulders. He opens his eyes and stares at the flowers. 

Nothing. 

He stares a little harder. Nothing. With a frustrated huff, he pokes and prods at the little stems, observing them as they give under his touch. 

An hour passes with no progress and he is slowly, but surely, starting to lose hope. 

It was probably a fluke , Jisung thinks to himself and feels himself start to frown. He stares down at the orange Marigold, then he gets up and leaves. 

Doyoung kicks him out during cleanup again the next day, threatening him with a duster in his hand as Taeil laughs besides him. 

It brings Jisung back to the flower garden, and this time, he is much more aware as the Marigold grows before his eyes. He is not doing anything special, in fact, his mind is as close to empty as it could be. He is doing nothing but staring out at the Marigold. Not touching it, not stressing over it, just concentrating. 

It feels natural. Comfortable. To let his worries wash away, to let his mind be rid of any thoughts. It is just him and nature, once again, sat together underneath the same blue sky. 

By the time Sulilda comes out, all but two of the Marigolds are orange and blooming. 

“Oh,” She murmurs. Jisung turns around from where he is planted in front of the flower patch, looking up at Sulilda as she approaches him. She gently lowers herself next to him, eyes not leaving the Marigolds. 

Moments of silence go by, the two of them looking upon the flowers as Jisung causes another one to bloom. When there is only one Marigold that is not yet touched, she speaks softly, “Jisung this is… what have you done?” He turns quickly, wondering if she is mad. That was the last thing he wanted, he only wanted to make her happy. 

She is smiling. His shoulders drop, relief rushing through him. “I do not know,” He says carefully, “It just happened. I’m not doing anything special.”

She makes a sound of realization. “So it’s a gift, is it? Making a flower bloom… is that not Druidcraft?”

“Huh? No — it’s nothing like that.” Jisung quickly denies. Except, he does not have any other explanation. There is only one that could hold true, but he is not sure if he can confront it yet. He does not know if he ever will. 

They bask in each other’s company for a little while longer, admiring the Marigolds as they dance gently in the spring winds. 

On his way home, Jisung watches the blue skies turning into orange skies, the sun settling for the day. 

💫

Upon first glance, Jisung concludes that he did not have to accompany Chenle to his meeting. 

The Guild member is waiting at the West Park entrance when they arrive. He is decked out in the AG’s signature uniform, tan pants and a blue fitted tailcoat with Waterdeep’s flag embroidered on the chest. He is also staring intently at a butterfly as it lands on one of the statues beside the park gate, big eyes wide, eyebrows raised to his hair. 

Jisung sticks around, because first meetings can be deceiving, appearances more so. He is not naive either, he has been around far too long and seen way too much to trust so easily, especially a member of a Guild who may or may not be corrupt. 

“Do you need me to be there while you speak with him?” Jisung asks, essentially offering his presence while knowing he would serve as no help. 

Chenle nods anyway, “Better safe than sorry.”

The two of them are wearing civilian clothing, cloaks and slacks but they are bound to draw attention while talking to a Guild member. The thought of it makes Jisung’s throat dry, but he follows Chenle as he walks towards the man nonetheless. 

“Hello,” the Bard greets. “I have been informed that an Adventurers Guild member would be here to fill me in on the Pukno mission.” It is the most formal Chenle has ever sounded. Jisung barely holds back a snort. 

The AG member’s eyes snap from the butterfly to Chenle, an obliviousness to the world around him in a way that Jisung would have never guessed a man who goes to the Undermountain on daily missions would possess. Chenle has a way of catching anyone and everyone off guard. 

“Hi!” The man says, folding into a 90° angle. He comes back up from his bow with a smile on his face, “That would be me! My name is Lee Mark, I am the leader and founder of the Adventurers Guild. I actually wanted to personally come out and talk to you. This mission is one of our more dire ones and I would hate for it to not be explained properly.” Mark pauses, then backtracks, “Not that I don’t think the Guild members would explain it well! Just like… if you want something done well, better off doing it yourself, right?”

This time, Chenle seems to be the one caught off guard, “Right.” He agrees, somewhat winded. 

Mark chuckles, a high little Ha. Ha. Ha. Jisung wants to bury his face in his hands in Mark’s honor. The Guild leader does not seem embarrassed though, if anything he looks a bit apprehensive. 

“Uh — Zhong Chenle, correct?” At Chenle’s nod, he turns to Jisung. “So… sorry, who are you?”

Mark does not seem like the type of guy who would take his shoe off and throw it at Jisung if he talked to him, but strangers in Jisung’s past have done that before, and worse. He is understandably nervous around new people, especially those with authority. 

“The City Watch gave your letter to him.” Chenle cuts in before Jisung can give a stuttered-out version of his name. “If there is information needed to be shared in private, you can do so before we set out on the mission. If we set out on the mission. There is still the matter of what exactly I am doing that needs to be discussed, as well as the reward for helping you.”

Mark seems as wary around Jisung as Jisung is around him. It is somewhat comforting. He hides it well, Jisung is not sure if Chenle can tell, but Jisung can see it. Jisung knows many languages. Common, Infernal, Druidic, though he is especially privy to body language. He can read it like a book. Mark in particular seems like an open one, waiting to be analyzed. 

Mark clears his throat, “Sure. I should preface this by saying there will be the possibility of physical and psychic damage. We will have to go to the 4th level of the Undermountain, Twisted Caverns. Unfortunately, I can’t give you all of the details yet, but your sole mission would be to talk to Pukno.” The AG leader pauses. With a quick glance around him, he lowers his voice to a near whisper, “He knows the whereabouts of the Shadow Thieves as well as the rumors on where they are supposedly striking next.” 

Shadow Thieves. Jisung has never heard of them. Though if the Adventurers Guild is put on a quest to get information on them, they must be a pretty big deal. The Open Lord would not send them to get the whereabouts of someone who was not a threat.

Mark continues, “As the letter mentioned, he seems to only speak to fellow Bards. You were recommended by several travelers, adventurers and city goers, they had nothing but good things to say about your musical talents and social skills. It would be an honor for you to travel with us.”

Chenle hums and picks at his nails. It is a nasty habit of his, something he does when he is unsure of the situation he is in. Jisung wants to smack his hand to get him to quit. He narrows his eyes in Chenle’s direction, trying to silently communicate with him. 

Chenle ignores him, of course, “You said this mission was a dire one?” He phrases it as a question even though they all know the answer. At Mark’s nod and short affirmation, he speaks again, “I want guaranteed protection in the Undermountain. I am going there to speak to Pukno, not to fight. I want it to be a priority that I do not get harmed in any way.”

“Deal.“ Mark agrees easily. 

“I want 7 gold pieces.” Chenle adds, “And I want to be paid upfront.”

Mark counters, “We’ll double it. In three days, we will meet at The Watchful Order of Magists and Protectors headquarters for a short meeting before we set off.” 

He pulls a card out from his pockets and holds it out to Chenle, “That has W.O.M.P HQ’s address and the time we will be meeting, along with The AG’s mailing address if you have any questions you may think of before we meet again. Anything else?”

“I do not believe so. You have my word, I will fulfill the quest to my best ability. Thank you for meeting me here.” Jisung feels his eyebrows raise, surprised by the quickness of the meeting. Perhaps he should not be surprised, given he has never experienced one himself. Perhaps they are all like this. 

“Thank you for your time. I look forward to it.” Mark says kindly, a bow in Chenle’s direction, then one in Jisung’s direction. With that, he is on his way. 

The two watch him leave in silence, the street lamps around them turning on as it gets dark outside. The evening breeze makes Jisung’s teeth clench. Chenle seems utterly unbothered, eyes fixed on the area Mark was before he left. 

“Are you nervous?” Jisung asks. 

He does not expect an answer and Chenle does not give one. The Bard gives half of a shrug and diverts his eyes away from the spot where they were trained, continuing to avoid Jisung’s gaze. 

“Let’s go home.” Chenle suggests. 

They walk through Waterdeep, away from the park entrance and the conversation of promised missions, back to their cozy tavern. 

💫

The second sign of him being a Druid made itself known when Jisung was 18. 

It was not uncommon for someone to have an unspecified class at age 18. Plenty of the people he went to school with now did not have a determined class. Of course, there were the ones that were decided at birth, as well as the ones who discovered it sometime in their early teenage years, but most people were still left in the dark. Just like Jisung. 

(“ Yeah, it’s normal.” A classmate had answered when Jisung mustered up the courage to ask. “ Some people are raised into their class, some are born with it, others make pacts or deals with higher entities. All in due time, my friend, you’ll find your class soon enough.” )

“Hey.” Jisung says, waving to get Chenle’s attention. Technically, they are both on the clock. It is 3 p.m and the amount of people in the tavern is close to none. Lunch has already finished and travelers have already set out, the few people here do not seem to want any company. Or service. 

Chenle hums, distracted. He is currently doing his annual piano tuning, something he is supposed to do before his shift. They all let him get away with it, so long as he sings if the tavern gets too quiet. 

“How did you know you were a Bard?” Jisung asks. 

Chenle keeps picking at the strings, eyes flickering up at Jisung for a fleeting moment, “How did I know I was a Bard?” He mutters to himself. “I’ve been playing instruments for as long as I can remember and I’ve got the voice of an angel. It was only natural.”

In the past three years they have known each other, Chenle has not asked many questions about Jisung’s life. He is all ears when Jisung recalls a memory of his time on the streets, or the rare occasions where he may talk about the forest, but Chenle does not pry. It may be that characteristic that allows them to get along so well.  

“Why?” the Bard asks, dropping the tool he was using to tune, “Haven’t discovered your class yet?”

“Something like that.” Jisung mutters, grabbing his rag to wipe down the counter. It does not matter that the counter is squeaky clean, it gives Jisung something to do with his nervous hands. 

Chenle approaches the counter, smacking it twice. He leaves oily fingerprints and a small smudge. Jisung smacks him with the rag. “Hey.” Chenle says, warning, before his mouth turns into a grin, “How about a cup of liquid courage before I go up and start smacking the keys, aye? Promise I won’t tell the boss.”

“Not a chance!” Jisung splutters, ”No drinking on the job.”

Chenle cackles, “Whatever you say. A water, then.”

Begrudgingly, Jisung fills one of the glass cups behind the counter with water and slides it to Chenle, pointedly ignoring the cheesy grin on his face. The Bard takes the water and disappears back behind the piano, resuming his humming from before. 

It happens when Taeil bursts through the kitchen. 

A second before that, Jisung lifts his nose to the air and sniffs, eyebrows furrowing. It kind of smells like — 

“Do you smell smoke?” Jisung and Taeil question each other at the same time, eyes widening. 

“Smoke?!” Chenle asks, sitting up straight and thwacking his head against the piano. 

It plays in slow motion, the piano jolts from Chenle smacking against it, the water Jisung gave him tilting where it was placed on top of the instrument. Vaguely, Jisung registers Chenle’s eyes widen, Taeil’s yelp of surprise, Chenle’s arm shooting out to grab the cup. If the cup falls, it could spill all over the piano keys. Jisung is not always good at following his gut instinct, but this time he does it without thinking. 

His arm stretches out from behind the bar counter and the cup stops falling. 

The water turns into ice, freezing right above the keys. The cup freezes in place as the water turns to ice, but Jisung does not know how to make things float, so it falls onto one of the piano keys with a pathetic ping! and rolls around momentarily before stopping. 

“I —“ Jisung begins, feeling a headache coming on. 

“No time,” Taeil says, grabbing Jisung’s wrist, “We have to find where the smoke is coming from.”

A part of Jisung is relieved that he does not get the opportunity to stress over whatever the hell that just was. He lets himself be pulled away by Taeil, Chenle hot on their heels. 

The smoke turns out to be coming from a worn wire in the tavern’s electrical breaker box, one that had sparked and started to smoke. At Chenle’s suggestion of, “Why don’t we just throw some water on that bad boy?” Taeil kicks the two of them out and deals with it on his own. 

“Lords, I was just yanking his chain,” Chenle grumbles, picking up the frozen cup with ice attached to it off of his piano, “Anyways, that little party trick was cool, hot shot. Where’d you learn that?”

The headache is back. The headache’s name is Zhong Chenle, “It just happened.”

“It just happened,” Chenle deadpans. “Right. And when I say a few words and physically inflict damage on others, it just happens . Nothing to do with the fact that I’m a Bard or anything, that’s just preposterous.”

“Are you done?” Jisung asks tiredly. 

“Not quite.” Asshole. “Shape water, was it? You can only do that if you are a Fighter, Rogue, Wizard or —“

“Druid.”

Jisung resists the urge to roll his eyes at Chenle’s triumphant smile. The Bard claps his hands and makes a little noise of amazement, “So you know already! I never would’ve guessed, seeing as you live in the city and allow yourself to be trapped in a building for hours upon hours of the day.”

Chenle’s a prick. “You’re a prick,” Jisung tells him. Said prick in question cackles loudly. “Nature saved my life, and I guess in return, I shall be bonded to it for life. It’s not that I have to live in nature all of the time, it’s that I will always have a duty to repay nature.”

“Poetic,” Chenle says, taking a seat on the piano stool, cracking his fingers, “You’re a good guy, Park Jisung.”

Jisung lets himself sink into the kind words of the Bard and the high notes of the piano, the tension in his head temporarily making its leave. Knowing one’s class is half the battle, now he’s left to perfect it. 

💫

There are the good days. 

Jisung comes back from class and immediately bursts through the door of the kitchen. 

“Taeil!” He exclaims. The cook turns his head away from the pasta he was handling, looking at Jisung. 

The Druid holds up a piece of paper, cursive writing and a stamp on it, too far away for Taeil to read. He does not need to, Jisung is all too excited to share the news, “I got into the apprenticeship program! If all goes well, in a year, you’ll be looking at a college graduate and a Level 2 spellcaster.” 

Taeil starts cheering before he even finishes. Jisung ducks his head for a moment, pink rushing to his cheeks before Taeil comes up and shakes him by his shoulders. 

“That’s great news.” He says in that calm voice that only Taeil can achieve. Calm, but full of emotion. “We have to tell… everybody. Quite literally everybody. Go tell all of the patrons out in the tavern, I’m sure someone will buy a round for everyone.” 

Jisung laughs, knowing Taeil is joking but not doubting his words. The customers of the Yawning Portal change day by day, but they always seem to have an endless amount of thrill and celebration. 

“Seriously, though.” Taeil says, grin on his face, “Have you told Doyoung? Kun? Chenle ? Lords, he is gonna be a menace about this. He will tell everyone he meets.” The amount of fondness in Taeil’s voice brings a smile to Jisung’s face. 

Jisung was proud of himself. Waterdeep’s School of Enchantment has a 0.8% chance a year of being accepted into their apprenticeship program. If one is accepted, the School of Enchantment assigns them to a high-profile spellcaster. They learn from the spellcaster for a year, said spellcaster acting as their mentor, educating them on the tips and tricks of spellcasting. If a student is not accepted into the program, they may seek out a spellcaster with an apprentice license and learn from them, though they are not guaranteed the best education. 

“Tell Kun what?”

Jisung spins around, facing Kun where he is leaning against the doorway of the kitchen. 

“Kun! I got into the apprenticeship program!”

Kun’s eyes go wide, flickering back and forth from Jisung to Taeil. “Really?” He asks, voice filled with astonishment. “Jisung, that’s fantastic. Congratulations.”

Jisung smiles wide, feeling warm. Kun and Taeil are talking about ways to celebrate, what to cook and where to visit. Jisung can hear Chenle making his way to the kitchen, whistling to himself like he always does. He makes a mental note to go upstairs and find Doyoung when he leaves the kitchen to fill him in on the good news. 

Jisung is happy. For the first time in a while, he is anticipating what the future has in store for him. 

💫

There are the bad days. 

Jisung wakes up with a jolt, sitting up straight in his bed. He can count his heartbeat without touching his pulse, the thudding in his ears loud and distracting. Every breath he takes shudders and every blink makes his eyes hurt. 

“Jisung,” - voice says. He wants to ignore it, wants to put the covers over his head and rock back and forth. 20 years old and he still can not handle the nightmares. He clenches his jaw and brings his eyes up, searching for the voice. 

Doyoung leans against the door frame, eyes worried and upset. It seems all Jisung does sometimes is upset Doyoung. He takes another shuddering breath. 

“You were screaming in your sleep again.” Doyoung says, “Is everything okay?”

Some nights are better than others, even on the bad days. Sometimes it is a quieter nightmare, one he hardly remembers in the morning. Sometimes it will silently wake him up, make his heart race until he falls back asleep. Sometimes he startles himself awake, rushing to the bathroom or pulling the blankets over his head. Sometimes he works through it himself. 

Doyoung steps into the room when Jisung fails to answer, sitting at the end of the bed. When he opens his arms, Jisung’s face crumbles, tears welling up and dripping down his face. 

“Oh, Jisung.” Doyoung mutters, “I know. I know, I’ve got you, it is okay. It is gonna be okay.” It is slightly awkward. Jisung is taller than Doyoung now, he can not curl up against him as comfortably as he could at 16 years old. Jisung’s elbow pokes into his own rib cage as he sticks his face into Doyoung’s neck, tears wetting the older man’s sleep shirt. Doyoung does not seem to mind, fingers carding through Jisung’s hair, scratching at his scalp. 

“Come back. It is mind over matter, okay? Take deep breaths. Whatever you may think is going to hurt you, it will not. You know why? Because they are thoughts, Jisung. That is all they are, they are just thoughts. They have as much power as you give them. You can overcome them, I know you can. Come back, Jisung.”

Doyoung breathes with him, heavy inhale, slow exhale. In through the nose, out through the mouth. In situations like these, Jisung loses track of time easily. It seems like hours go by, his cheeks are still wet as he tries to control his breathing. They do not talk for a moment, still in an embrace, even as Jisung’s breathing pattern seems to be going back to normal. 

“That was good. You get it under control much faster than you used to.” Doyoung whispers as to not bother Jisung too much, but Jisung can feel every word from where he is pressed up against his neck. Rather than it being a bother, it is comforting. 

Doyoung knows he has a difficult time responding after one of these episodes, so he continues talking in a quiet voice, “Your sympathetic nervous system and parasympathetic nervous system do not want to fight each other. They both want to keep you safe. You tell your sympathetic nervous system that there is a threat, and the next minute you tell your parasympathetic nervous system to bring you back to normal. They can’t do it all on their own, they need a little bit of your help. I know you can do it.”

They sit in silence for a bit, Doyoung rubbing Jisung’s back in comfort. Jisung wants to thank Doyoung, open his mouth and tell him how grateful he is, but his limbs are getting a little too heavy. He wants to blink his eyes open, but they feel like weights on his face. 

Thank you for taking me in when I had no one. Thank you for helping me, giving me a job and a place to sleep. Thank you for letting me meet the staff. Thank you for comforting me. Thank you for not asking too many questions. Thank you for pushing me to talk when it is needed. Thank you for teaching me how to breathe. And to love. And to cry. Thank you. 

He hears one last, “I’ve got you, Jisung.” before sleep overtakes him. 

💫

After working at the Yawning Portal for over five years, one starts to get desensitized. 

Jisung has seen people who are half lizard. He has seen people who are half dragon. He has seen people with missing limbs and missing eyes. He has seen people made mostly out of metal pieces. He has seen it all and much more, yet he is still stopped in his tracks at the sight of this customer. 

A man walks in and it seems all heads turn to look at him. He has a certain air of elegance that Jisung has never seen a person at the tavern possess. He walks like there is water under his feet and gives Jisung an unsure smile, sun spilling between his teeth. 

“Hello,” he greets, soft spoken. Jisung can not help but to smile back at him. 

“Hello. Can I get you something?”

As the Druid looks closer, he can see the sweat dotting the man’s hairline. The way the man is clenching his jaw as he swallows and the way his fist is pushed against the bar counter. “Yes,” he answers, eyes flitting off to the side, “I heard this was a good place to go if you wanted information.” While this may be true, Jisung is pretty tight lipped. If the man wanted information Jisung did not want to give, he should have asked another patron. “I… I have a question. On the whereabouts of someone.”

Jisung absentmindedly drums his fingertips along the bar counter, on guard, “Sure. Hit me.”

The words burst out of the man as if he had been holding them in for too long, “Do you know a Kim Doyoung? And where I might be able to find him?”

Jisung tries to keep the surprise off of his face. Not a local, then. Everyone from Waterdeep knows that Kim Doyoung runs the Yawning Portal, knows that he built it from the ground up. 

“Kim Doyoung,” Jisung repeats slowly. Just who is this guy? “A friend of yours?”

The man’s laughter shakes as it comes out, but somehow it still sounds like music to Jisung’s ears, melodical and twinkling. 

“The best I ever had.”

“But you don’t know where he is?” The sentence leaves Jisung’s mouth before he can think about it. Instantly, he wants to take it back. The man’s lips turn down at the corners and his eyes seem glassy. 

“No, I…” The man chokes out, “We haven’t spoken in a long time. I thought — I thought he was gone.” The man sounds like he is going to cry. He looks at Jisung with big, teary eyes and suddenly, Jisung remembers. 

( “Hey,” Jisung had said, “Are you okay?” Doyoung had turned from where he was staring at a fruit stall at the market, eyes lingering on the bags of tangerines. “Yes,” He responded, seeming far away, “I just got reminded of someone .”

Jisung looked away from Doyoung, watching other customers mill about the market, chatting with one another, smiling. “Do you miss them?”

Doyoung smiled unevenly and responded, “So much. I miss him more and more every day.” )

It was the first time he talked about him — about Lee Taeyong — but it was not the last. 

“Have you ever heard of him? Or know someone I could talk to for more information? Just… anything.” The man asks desperately. 

Jisung contemplates for a short moment, then asks through an exhale, “What did you say your name was?” The man pauses, looking confused, then shakes his head and answers, “Lee Taeyong.”

“Right. That’s what I thought.” Jisung feels his face begin to betray him, a smile trying to make itself present. Doyoung should be here any minute now. He clears his throat and looks at the clock, “Give me… approximately one minute.”

Taeyong looks confused, even more than he did before, and questions, “I — okay? A minute for what?”

Saved by a patron calling for him, Jisung shrugs at the man sitting at the bar, then steps away. 

Chenle makes direct eye contact with him from where he is turned at the piano, eyes widening as if to say What the fuck was that . Jisung widens his back in what he hopes comes across as I don’t know but I think we’re gonna find out . 

He quickly serves the customer that hailed him a Scotch and amaretto cocktail, muttering a quick “Enjoy,” as he sees the door swing open, Doyoung stepping inside. 

“Boss!” Jisung shouts, “There’s a man here looking for you.” Taeyong’s head shoots up from where he was looking down, eyes wide. Jisung and Doyoung share a smile with each other before Doyoung turns his attention to the white haired man at the bar counter, his smile growing in size. 

“It was about time. I thought maybe you had forgotten about me. It is nice to see that I was wrong.”

Ever so slowly, Taeyong turns his head, face pale as if he had seen a ghost. 

If possible, Doyoung’s grin widens even more, eyes shining bright, “Welcome to Waterdeep, Taeyong.”

“Doyoung…?” Taeyong calls his name like he does not believe it, “Is it really you?”

Doyoung seems to melt where he stands, eyebrows tilted up as he looks upon Taeyong with soft eyes and a warm smile, “Yes, Taeyong,” He replies, quiet, as if it were just the two of them, “It’s really me.”

Taeyong shakes his head, “I can’t believe it.” He isn’t astounded, nor is he surprised. No, by the tone of his voice, he really does not believe it. 

Doyoung nods, “I know. Come upstairs with me. I’ll explain everything, okay?” He holds his hand out. 

Jisung sucks in a deep breath as Taeyong hesitates, staring deeply into Doyoung’s eyes. The moment passes and Taeyong lays his hand in Doyoung awaiting one, and they retreat to the staircase leading to the floors of the inn. 

“What the hell?” Chenle mumbles. Jisung turns his head, struck with laughter at the sight of Chenle’s genuinely surprised face. “What the hell?” Chenle repeats, “The boss has a lover ?!”

Jisung laughs as he puts a finger to his mouth, “Shh! That was private —“

“The fuck it was private, they just had a moment in the middle of the tavern —“

Chenle’s incredulous ramblings are drowned out by the sound of Jisung’s laughter. 

💫

Jisung knocks on the door labeled PROFESSOR SUH’S OFFICE three times before standing back to wait patiently. 

After being accepted into Waterdeep’s School of Enchantment apprenticeship program, he was told to meet with Professor Suh to find the spellcaster best suited for him to learn from. 

Professor Suh was a nice guy. He taught Jisung’s Magic Safety class, spoke a lot about his pet fish and told everyone to call him Johnny. While most of the professors at the School of Enchantment were Wizards, Warlocks or Sorcerers, Johnny was a wise, Paladin spellcaster. 

“It’s open!” Jisung hears Professor Suh answer, voice faint behind the wooden door. 

It swings open smoothly when Jisung turns the knob, revealing the wide smile of Johnny Suh. 

“Hey there, Jisung,” Johnny greets, “Come sit down.”

Jisung says a short, “Hello,” before sitting in the seat across from Johnny. 

“So,” Johnny begins, “First of all, I would like to congratulate you on being accepted into the apprenticeship program. I was delighted to see your name on the list, actually, I had no doubt in my mind you would make it. Your grades and attendance are both well above average and the letter of recommendation from your other teachers helped as well. Second, we should talk about the spellcasters.”

“Right. I read on the form that I could write a name down if I had someone in mind, but I don’t have any connections to spellcasters that master in Enchantment.” Jisung had asked Doyoung if he knew any Enchanters. Though Doyoung himself was a Necromancer, he seemed to know everyone, but all his boss did was shake his head and tell him to take the spellcaster the school assigned him. 

“Don’t worry. I have someone in mind.” Johnny says, opening a drawer to his desk and flipping through files, “I had some doubt, at first, regarding if he would be a good pick for you.”

Jisung leans forward in the seat across from Johnny’s desk as Johnny pulls out a folder of files from the drawer, kicking it shut mindlessly as he sits up straight. “He’s a bit of a — how do I put this — a bit of a recluse. However, I thought about it more and I think you two could learn a lot from each other.”

Jisung blinks at the words, learn from each other? The disbelief on his face must be apparent if the chuckle Johnny gives him as they make eye contact is anything to go by. 

“I was his mentor for his apprenticeship a few years ago.” Johnny explains, “He was one of the brightest spellcasters I have ever had the pleasure of working with.” Johnny opens the folder, taking a sheet of paper and flipping it upside for Jisung to see. 

Jisung looks at the man on the file, his picture at the top right, and sucks in a deep breath. The man is gorgeous, to put it lightly. The picture only shows from the top of his shoulders and upwards. Nonetheless, he looks poised, but delicate. Jisung wonders how strong his magic truly is, how bright of a spellcaster he really is. Jisung is nervous, but more than that, he’s excited. His eyes trail down to where the man’s name, age, class and school of magic are written. 

Huang Renjun. 22. Sorcerer. School of Enchantment. 

“Okay.” Jisung says. “When do I start?”