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In all fairness to himself, Geonhak did not initially think the night would end up the way it did.
For a member of the King’s Guard, it was enshrined into you from day one that you were never to roam the streets or the battlefield without someone at your side.
While his country had been at peace for many a year now, he found that there was always the opportunity for something unpleasant to make its way into your life, whether wartime or not.
Ruffians, bandits, and swindlers rarely ever cared for politics, after all.
Youngjo was adamant that whatever unexpected illness had infiltrated his system overnight would not stop him from fulfilling his duties, but one look at his friend's pale face beaded with sweat had Geonhak instantly rebut his claims.
Youngjo would not be much help to him on patrol if he could barely stand upright without assistance.
And so, after a cursory glance at the rotation schedule to see everyone either injured or otherwise occupied, Geonhak equipped himself and set out to the merchant quarter alone - his only partner being the celestial body that watched over him from above.
The brightly waning moon hung high up in the night sky, providing the only illumination along the quiet path Geonhak walked down the centre of the city. It must be past midnight by now, he thought to himself as he strolled down the seemingly abandoned street.
At any other time of day, the area would be bustling, with stall owners preparing their wares for the day ahead, husbands and wives purchasing household goods early in the morning, the children buying sweet treats in the afternoon, to the loud, raucous energy of the small taverns and entertainment venues.
But tonight, just a few days past the autumn harvest festival, the winding streets of the city were strangely quiet and content - merrymakers too thoroughly tired out from the recent festivities, Geonhak supposed.
The lanterns lining each side of the streets unlit, windows and doors closed firmly, and not a single other person out at this hour. He could hear the distant echo of laughter and music from a few blocks over, the only establishment seemingly open tonight.
For the moment, Geonhak was peacefully alone.
Geonhak held his sword sheathed at his side as he continued his moonlit patrol, the sound of his heavy boots echoing off the wooden structures on either side of him. Under the night sky, his robes appeared almost black - their usual deep green colour transforming as it bathed in the pale light above him.
Geonhak didn’t mind the solitude. In fact, in the barracks of the King’s Guard, solitude was a scarce resource.
Not that he didn’t get along with his fellow guardsmen - some of whom were practically as close as family to him - but a little breathing space was appreciated at times.
In the crisp autumn night air, the quiet of his path and a faint breeze carrying the smell of the maple trees dotting the streets, Geonhak felt a kind of peace that was few and far between while living in the crowded capital.
It was almost as if the entire city was his for the taking tonight.
This serenity, however, was quickly dashed by a sudden sound nearby. The sliding of an arrant roof tile above him breaking his focus.
Geonhak, torn mid-daze, swiftly turned around, partially unsheathing his sword reflexively as he spun.
Yet as he gazed upward to the roof in question, he saw nothing but rows and rows of similar moonlit tiles.
Strange, he thought as he let his sword slide back into its sheathe, must have just been an animal.
Feeling the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end, he continued his patrol with an air of anxiety surrounding him.
Geonhak did not scare easy, by any means. However, a life spent in service to his King from his teenage years to adulthood meant he carried a certain perceptiveness to the world around him that few others did.
He knew that danger could lurk behind any corner, be present in any shadow or anyone he met - a long, pale scar sliced into his right arm from a time when the colour he wore determined if he lived or died remained to prove his point.
While war stood as a distant memory for Geonhak, the instincts of the battlefield remained long past the time of armour and bloodshed. Of losing himself to the head rush of conflict and rage.
And while the last few years of peace had allowed him room to breathe, the capital of late was troubled by a string of seemingly unconnected murders, all with a suspect of similar description.
First, it was a man and his wife found dead in their home, both cut down safeguarding a massive supply of an illegal drug that had recently made its way onto the city's streets.
Then it was a local blacksmith, stabbed in the throat with one of his own blades, who was then discovered to have been conspiring with their state's former enemy to inspire a rebellion in the capital.
And most recently, the murder of two high court officials at a house of ill repute in the neighbouring red light district. At least they seemed to have enjoyed the illegally brewed snake wine before the deadly poison infesting it took its hold, the word on the street spoke.
All three cases took place in different parts of town, to people with no known connection to one another, and by three extremely different means.
The only linking features were the moon - always hanging full above the crime scenes - the presence of a strange purple flower left as the culprit’s calling card, and the whispers of a lithe man in black sighted nearby on all three occasions.
A living shadow, perhaps, as no one could seem to remember any distinguishing features besides his garb.
Geonhak was not superstitious. He knew of the mages kept in the walls of the palace - even fought alongside them on the field of battle in another life - but to speculate that a being made of pure darkness, striding undetected in the depth of the night, seemed too fantastical to be true.
However, as he walked these streets with the weight of his own sword being his only comfort, he thought that the moon’s pale glow could allow many a shadow to hide tonight.
His hand flexed its grip on the hilt of his sword restlessly at the thought.
As he continued to patrol, he took stock of his surroundings - a surefire way to cool his head, he believed.
Another boarded-up merchant’s street, one during the daylight hours would be home to exotic spices, fragrant teas, and so-called mystics peddling their enchantments and trinkets to those who wandered by.
The sound of the merriment from the pub a few streets over was almost gone, the only sounds around him seemingly were his own footfalls.
A few sealed barrels lined the street - what they contained, Geonhak was not sure of - and the red paper lanterns suspended unlit above him rustled with the calm night breeze.
Until-
Crack!
The sound rang out from behind him, a definite thud from the ground below as something shattered on top of the pale earth.
He turned carefully, his hand resting on the hilt of his sword.
As expected, a tile made of bright red clay lay broken a few steps behind him. His gaze flit upwards, inspecting the roof and its disrupted row of tiles.
Once again, his vision granted him no culprit.
His heart beating in time with his rushed steps, he moved closer to inspect the broken tile that now littered the ground behind him. Its pieces were jagged, the stone almost appearing sharp to the touch.
“Well, look what we have here.”
A deep, unfamiliar voice echoed behind him. Geonhak spun again, weapon ready to be drawn as he faced the mysterious men now standing behind him.
The three of them brandished long, rusted broadswords, their clothing ragged and torn in places and all clad in black. One was taller and broader than the others, their eyes and rotten teeth glinting sinisterly under the moonlight.
“Not every day you see a member of the King's Guard on their own.” The big one said, taking a second to spit on the ground beneath him before he continued. “What’s the matter, boy? You lost?”
His hand never flinching from its position on his sword, Geonhak widened his stance as he spoke.
“Clear the way, sirs, I have no quarrel with you.” His deep voice echoed through the distance between them.
“You think you’re in any position to be giving orders, boy?” One of the skinny ones said, his knife reflecting the dull light of the moon above. “As far as I see it, we’ve got you outnumbered.”
Geonhak’s face hardened at their reluctance to back down.
“By the order of the King, I command you to clear the way.” He raised his voice, infusing his speech with the authority his position commanded.
“Ooo, by the order of the King!” The other smaller one laughed in a shrill shriek. “Listen to him, I bet he’s all bark and no bite. Just a silly little stray who doesn’t know who he’s threatening, boss.”
“You should do better than to talk to me like that, son,” The bigger one said, taking a step in Geonhak’s direction. “You don’t know who you’re dealing with.”
“Then who, pray tell, am I dealing with?” Geonhak contested. “All I see are three pathetic lowlifes looking for a fight. One that they certainly won’t win.”
His thumb peeled the hilt of his sword up to reveal its deadly, sharpened edge.
“Leave now and I promise you no harm will come to the three of you. Stay and I cannot grant you that same promise.”
The big one laughed, the three ruffians now striding closer, weapons at the ready.
“You’re going to regret what you just said, dog.” The giant laughed as he brandished his sword in Geonhak’s direction. “Don’t you know it’s dangerous to be out while the moon is this bright?”
Geonhak’s eyes flit upwards momentarily.
They can’t mean-
Before he could finish the thought, the three were upon him. Geonhak unsheathed his sword, throwing the hilt to his side as he stepped backward, blocking the attack from his front.
Another bandit swiped at him from the side but he quickly jumped out of the way, parrying the blow.
The four of them trading turns and blows, the harsh sound of their weapons ringing in Geonhak’s ears like a war cry. Like a taunt.
He took one of the smaller ones off guard, blocking his attempt to cut him at his side, kicking the man to the ground. The other’s weapon scattered away as his head hit a nearby barrel, seemingly incapacitating him.
He was not so lucky with the next blow, the hilt of the other scrawny ones sword hitting him in the side while his focus momentarily slipped.
He hit back just as hard, his sword arcing in a surefire slash to the man’s arm, drawing blood that appeared blue-black in the moonlight. The man let out a pained yelp as he dropped his weapon to the ground in shock.
The big one saw the opportunity. He dove forward, his sword colliding with Geonhak’s, the screech of metal shrill and piercing to his eardrums.
They collided again, and again - Geonhak’s speed proving to be no match for the sheer brute force of the stranger in front of him as they traded blows.
He was losing ground quickly. He needed an exit route. Fast.
Luckily he did not need to wait a moment more before the opportunity came to him.
Crack!
Another roof tile slid down from above, landing square on the head of the man in front of him. A laceration cut through his bald head, blood running down his face as he yelled in pain.
Geonhak wasted no time sprinting in the opposite direction, his footsteps thumping as he sped down the winding lanes of the district, desperate to get away to the safety of the barracks.
He turned a corner, and another, and another - desperate for the others to lose their way, lest they follow after.
His luck quickly ran out as he reached a dead end. An alleyway lined with high stone walls, too tall and smooth for him to climb.
And nowhere to hide.
“There you are, you little bitch.”
The brawny one called out from behind him, hand still clutching the freshly bleeding wound on his forehead, his other two companions, both worse for wear but still brandishing their swords.
The big one grinned at him with putrid teeth as he pulled his hand away, the blood dripping menacingly down his face.
Shit, Geonhak thought, as the burly one raised his blade and charged towards Geonhak, the two others following behind.
Time seemed to run in slow motion as he braced for the worst, his sword holding strong in front of him.
His heart thudded, ringing in his ears as if he was back on that battlefield. The adrenaline honing his instincts, his body reacting.
But his body could not prepare him for what happened next.
Suddenly his vision was clouded by thick, impenetrable darkness appearing from below his feet.
Thick smoke smelling of night-blooming flowers filled his nostrils, Geonhak instinctively stepped back at its approach.
“What the-“ He heard the confusion of the bandits fill the air and he closed his now watering eyes at the intrusion.
And then another sound caught his ears.
The sound of a blade unsheathed, of a slide from above, of the landing of something in front of him.
Geonhak did not dare to open his eyes as he coughed through the stifling heat of the smoke, as he heard the sounds of a fight from beyond his perception.
The thud of people hitting the ground one by one, the sounds of confusion in their voices as they fell. A deafening slam as presumably the biggest bandit met the same fate.
And then silence.
Geonhak braced himself again, eyes closed.
Whatever was out there beyond the smoke was coming for him next, he was sure.
He swung once blindly in front of him, no resistance meeting his sword other than that of the air around him as he raised his voice.
“Who goes there?”
Silence once again.
And then a faint chuckle.
“What, not going to thank me first?”
A man’s voice. Playful, lilting and mischievous.
Geonhak’s face scrunched in confusion, his eyes opening slightly, the smoke beginning to dissipate around him.
The outline of a man not too similar to his own height stood before him, his features shrouded by the remains of the smoke.
“Thank you? What on Earth for?” Geonhak asked the figure.
The mysterious man chuckled once again.
“For saving you, of course.” He gestured to his feet, by which Geonhak could now see the three unconscious figures of the bandits who had pursued him lying prone on the cold, hard ground. “I thought that the King’s Guard weren’t allowed to patrol all on their lonesome.”
“You would be correct. We’re not.” Geonhak answered.
Even though the man's face still remained obscured by the smoke, Geonhak could almost hear his smile.
“So what are you, the exception to the rule?” He joked.
“No, I suppose I’m just unlucky.”
“Not completely, evidently.” The smile on the mysterious figure once again plain as day in his speech.
Despite the smoke clearing from their feet, the shroud remained to cloud the other man’s features seemingly on purpose. As if he were controlling the movements of the smoke to his own whim.
Geonhak’s curiosity would not let that slide.
“May I at least see the face of my saviour then?” Geonhak said, returning his sword to his side but still grasping the hilt firmly. “Know who I am meant to thank?”
A pause, as if the other man was pondering his request.
And then the smoke cleared to reveal his rescuer.
A man with sharp, dark eyes resembling crescent moons and skin that seemed to glow underneath the light of the sky above them, his wavy hair blowing softly in the gentle night breeze carrying the smell of a far-off land.
He was dressed in robes not dissimilar to Geonhak’s own, only dyed in a black so deep it looked as if he were wearing pure darkness.
As if he were a moonlit shadow.
“Has that sufficiently sated your curiosity?” The man clad in black asked, the corners of his mouth indeed curled up into a feline smile.
“Almost,” Geonhak replied. He felt a strange feeling rush overcome him. The need to know, to dive deeper. An unresting yearning for knowledge of this stranger who had saved his life. “Your name?”
The man hesitated again before answering his request.
“Seoho.” He said, the name filling the corners of Geonhak’s mind as if it were a spell. “You may call me Seoho.”
Geonhak was not sure if he was telling the entire truth, but he frankly did not care.
“And you?” Seoho asked, taking a step out of the remainder of the wafting smoke.
“Geonhak.” He answered almost eagerly, his mouth moving before his mind caught up. He took a breath before daring to continue, steeling his nerves. “Kim Geonhak, of the 4th regiment of the King’s Guard."
Seoho’s smile curved further, reaching his eyes and leaving Geonhak speechless once again.
“Well then, Geonhak,” Seoho started, his foot nudging the unconscious body of one of the ruffians prone on the ground. “Surely a member of the King’s Guard knows the roads of the city by heart? How on Earth did you end up cornered in one of the few alleys with no possible escape?”
Geonhak’s eyes narrowed at Seoho as if to try and study the beautiful enigma of a man a little easier.
“Were you following me?”
Seoho laughed, the sound ringing like the tinkling of a soft wind chime that filled the perfumed air between them.
“We all need some form of entertainment on a quiet night like tonight. Call it… curiosity.”
“Curiosity that led you to intervene when a stranger was fighting for his life?”
“Who wouldn’t do the same?” Seoho asked, Geonhak now realising the long twin daggers holstered at the other man’s hips. The hilts were a bright white, with rounded pommels that mimicked the moon above them. “Especially with a murderer roaming the capital, it pays to be on your guard.”
Geonhak’s heart seemed to skip a beat as Seoho spoke.
“A murderer?” Geonhak asked. “Now how would you happen to know about that?”
The smile did not drop from his face as Seoho leant slightly over to inspect the bigger of the bandits closely.
“Word travels fast on the street, Geonhak.” He answered. “The gossip of neighbours, of friends at taverns. Whispers in the dark muttering their evil schemes and plots. The city is alive with rumours, you just need to know where to look. Who to ask.”
“And is that you? The person to ask?”
Geonhak was starting to get the feeling that Seoho was hiding a lot more from him than met the eye.
“I don’t know, I suppose it depends on the question.” He pondered, his sharp but playful gaze once again meeting Geonhak’s.
Seoho took a step further towards him, closing the distance so that the softness of his voice could carry through the last traces of the sweet smoke. The moon reflected in the curve of his eye, in the wickedness present in the point of his smile.
“What answers are you seeking, Kim Geonhak?”
Geonhak gulped, his mouth dry. Was this the smoke or was this Seoho having this effect on him?
His head seemed to swim with questions, of inquisitiveness for the mystery of a man before him.
He cleared his throat before he spoke in an attempt to calm his swirling thoughts.
“The man cloaked in shadow underneath the moonlight.” He spoke as carefully as he could, Seoho’s head tilting ever so slightly in curiosity as he continued. “The one they spoke of leaving the scene of the crime. What do those voices have to say about him?”
Seoho brought a glove-cloaked hand to his chin, his forefinger draping over his plush bottom lip in thought.
The air between them hung heavy as Seoho began to stroll to Geonhak’s side.
“They say he left no trace behind him at the scene, that he disappeared as if he were a ghost.” Seoho began, almost as if spinning a tale as he paced behind the other man.
The hairs on the back of Geonhak’s neck stood upright as the other man got within proximity. The prickle of an anticipation he could not name.
“They say nothing connected those who perished beside the light of the full moon above them.” Seoho continued, his voice almost that of a whisper. “That the horrors inflicted were seemingly so effortless, so precise that it could only be the work of the supernatural.”
“And is that what you believe?” Geonhak asked, his voice barely escaping his throat. “That it was the supernatural?”
Seoho, now behind him, fell silent.
Until he felt the soft caress of warm air at his ear as the other man whispered softly to him.
“Is that what you’re afraid of, Geonhak?”
He took a step forward, spinning and drawing his sword to meet Seoho’s beautiful, pale neck. The moon illuminating them both in her glow.
The almost imperceptible shake of Geonhak’s tensed sword arm caught Seoho’s eye, his breath remaining ever calm and his appearance ever collected.
The smile still ever present on his face.
“You don’t want to hurt me, Geonhak.” Seoho started, confidently stating the fact. “I’m no threat to you.”
“Says the man who disposed of those three in mere seconds.” The ruffians remained ever still on the ground beneath them. “I know better than to trust the words of others.”
“If I wanted you simply disposed of like the trash at our feet, then I simply would have from the beginning and not stopped to entertain you in the meantime.” Seoho laughed, his gloved hand reaching up to grab the blade, to bring it closer to his own neck.
Geonhak could barely catch the startled noise that rose up from inside him as Seoho’s strong grip took hold of his own actions, the glove seemingly dulling any danger his weapon presented.
Seoho’s eyes seemed to pierce his own with his gaze, as if he were a predator now eyeing his meal with expectation.
“But by all means, Kim Geonhak, I invite you to test your luck once again.”
The blade now somehow even closer to his long, pale neck, Seoho’s voice almost too soft to hear.
“But I think we both know by now that luck is not on your side tonight.”
Geonhak swallowed heavily.
His breath stuck in his throat as he and Seoho continued to stare at one another.
The moon above them watching on, ever-present.
He relented, his grip on his sword softening ever slightly. Seoho immediately caught on and let his careful grip go, the sword now once again resting at Geonhak’s side.
Seoho let out another bright chuckle, his features softening in an instant.
“Well, Geonhak, the night grows old and I must be off. Return to your barracks, find your friends.” Seoho started onward, a careful tap to the shoulder with a gloved hand as he passed him. “And think twice before roaming the streets again by yourself! I can’t swoop down and save you every night you fall into trouble.”
Geonhak knew that the likelihood of encountering this man again was extremely low.
Almost impossibly so, if he truly possessed the power Geonhak suspected lay within him.
The weight of the brief touch on his shoulder stayed on him as if it bruised.
No, he thought, he must not let him out of his sight just yet.
“Wait!” Geonhak’s deep voice echoed off the stone walls surrounding them. “I owe you a debt.”
The soft tinkle of Seoho’s laughter filled the air once again.
“A debt?”
“For saving me.” Geonhak clarified, once again turning to face the other man. “Tell me how I am to repay the favour. Name your price.”
The air around them once again grew thick, the wind suddenly still.
The moon above them almost seemed to quieten the world around them, the night around them anticipating Seoho’s answer as much as Geonhak did.
“Any price?”
Geonhak was going to regret this, but his mouth jumped to react before his brain could dare to think.
“Anything.”
Seoho’s eyes narrowed playfully, his grin widening.
“How about… A kiss?”
Geonhak gulped.
This was not what he expected.
And his reaction clearly gave that away, Seoho’s melodious laughter filling the air, the breeze around them filling with sweet florals once again.
“Perhaps that price was too high, considering the colour of your ears now, Geonhak.”
Seoho laughed as Geonhak brought a hand up to the now burning shell of his ear, clearly stained red with the thought of the exchange.
“That’s your price?” Geonhak tried to play the situation off as best he could, but he could tell that Seoho could see right through his attempt to keep his cool. “That’s what you want, a kiss?”
The grin remained on Seoho’s face just like the ever-present moon above them.
“Yes, Geonhak, that’s my price.” He took another step closer once again. “What’s the matter? Don’t tell me you’ve never kissed anyone before?”
Silence.
The raise of Seoho’s eyebrows.
The glint of realisation in his eye.
“Really?”
“Really.” Geonhak answered - truthfully, if a bit bashfully.
What could he say, a life lived mostly in battle did not lead itself to as many romantic encounters as the tales would have you imagine.
Seoho did not seem taken aback by this information, if anything he appeared even more eager.
A glint in his eye, something that Geonhak could not place, and the perfume of the air around him made his head spin.
Seoho stared at him under the moon’s watchful gaze, admiring Geonhak as if he were an appraiser of a fine treasure.
He was beautiful, Geonhak thought.
“Well then,” Seoho began as he took a single step forward towards the other man. “Close your eyes.”
“What?”
“Close them,” Seoho repeated, stepping closer so that the air they shared was one and the same. “And I shall take my reward.”
He followed his words like a command like the air was laced with a power he could not name.
Electrifying his nerves, willing his eyes to shut.
The quiet set in around them both.
Geonhak could not hear anything besides his own breathing.
The steady but frantic thump of his heartbeat.
A moment passed.
And another.
Silence hung around him.
Anticipation prickling at every follicle, at every cell of his being.
Waiting.
And yet it never came.
The quiet persisted.
Geonhak opened his eyes.
And Seoho was gone.
The street in front of him was empty, save for the dispatched ruffians still unconscious on the ground beneath him.
A singular, mysterious purple flower now clutched in Geonhak’s hand.
And as the echo of Seoho’s laughter rang throughout the stone-lined street of the capital from a distance Geonhak could not place, the moon seemed to smile down upon him.