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Yeon had always been alone.
He’d never necessarily considered that a bad thing. He enjoyed his life, here on the mountain, a deity of his own remit. The days would pass, and he lived in peace. Humans would keep their distance, praying to him, leaving him offerings— and in return, he kept his district safe.
Yeon couldn’t even recall how long he’d been here, by himself. Memories of his parents were fading with time. All he could recall was coming here shortly after losing his mother, which subsequently followed with his father’s unexpected absence. They’d been estranged since then, further adding to Yeon’s confusion when he received a message from the man in question—
He had a gift for Yeon, for his son, his prodigy.
Yeon had accepted the letter with curiosity, taking it with him to the peak of his mountain, and settling down beneath his favourite tree. He wondered what news it would bring, if his father had been seen after all these years, or if he ever planned on returning to their homeland.
Little did Yeon realise that the contents, and the ‘gift’ it spoke of, would change his life forever.
Yeon had spent days travelling away from the safety and comfort of his mountain, and for what— for this?
He’d been led to the forest of undead, now staring down at a small, quivering, abandoned child, which only further added to his confusion. This had not been what Yeon was expecting. The word ‘gift’ wouldn’t come even close to this— at least, that’s what he’d first thought.
This small child, created by his father, appeared to be a burden to most, even though in reality, he was nothing more than an innocent in his own making. Their father had left him, and the humans didn’t want him. Left here to die, without having committed so much as a sin by his own hand.
The boy had no identity to call his own, and so Yeon bestowed him a name—
Rang.
Yeon didn’t think twice to pull the young child into his arms, escaping from the horrors of the forest, and returning to the safety of his mountain—
Only this time, he would no longer be alone.
Yeon hadn’t realised how dull his life had become in recent years until he’d shared this time with Rang.
There was a certain whimsey of children that Yeon had long since forgotten. Humans came and went in the blink of an eye, and a gumiho child in itself was a rarity.
For Rang, and his human half, even more so.
Yeon taught Rang all he knew, and all he didn’t know. There were boundless questions and adventures, never a dull day in recent memory. The world was brighter, expanding before his eyes—
Yeon had never known such happiness in his life.
Yeon could barely comprehend what he was seeing right before his eyes.
The town was silent. The scent of blood tinged the air, leaving a metallic taste on his tongue. Dust began to settle, and a single figure loomed in the distance— a gore soaked sword in one hand, and an emotionless expression in his eyes.
Then those same eyes caught Yeon’s and something changed.
There were tears of happiness, longing and fear. Arms encircled around him, pulling him close. Yeon remained stoic and calm, staring at the young man before him that he had always considered a brother. But this was not the man he remembered.
Rang had thought he was dead. Yeon had failed him, never taking into consideration how his disappearance would hurt his dongsaeng. Seeing that now, that wasn’t what broke his heart the most. Rang had taken out his fear on that of the innocent, slaughtering all the humans that stood in his way—
Leaving Rang little choice as to his punishment.
Yeon had never expected Rang to be capable of such carnage. Even through his sibling’s tears, Yeon forced himself to pull away from their embrace. He could see his brother’s heart breaking. The sadness and fear returned. He was no longer young and innocent. A crime had been committed, and punishment was due.
No sin of this extent could be ignored.
Yeon drew his sword and prayed he would miss.
Yeon had lost so much.
He couldn’t help but blame himself. It was his fault he and Rang were torn apart. He should never have fallen for a human. He should never have sacrificed his freedom for her possible return.
Thinking back to the day he struck down his brother, Yeon contemplated. Perhaps he could have handled their encounter differently, perhaps there was a way not to tear his brother down with his sword, and leave him for dead.
Yeon loved him, and could see no other way out at the time.
But even now, he’d destroyed what they’d built together.
The only thing Yeon longed for was a way for them to move past it, to mend what was broken, and possibly— live together in a world where they could once again consider each other family.
Rang was all Yeon had left.
The moment Rang, alive and well, walked back into the room— Yeon called his name with joy, hopping over the couch and desperately pulling his brother into his arms.
When they had been caught in Rang’s nightmare, Yeon was afraid he’d never manage to shake sense back into his brother, to urge him to keep fighting, to keep living.
A second scare to his life only further added to Yeon's anxiety. He could never allow his brother to die. Not while his own life remained present. He’d do anything to prevent that.
He shivered at the thought of a reality without Rang, urging that line of thought to cease.
Yeon held his brother just a little bit tighter.
Yeon’s heart was breaking, but so too was his life— slowly fading from his eyes.
He held the serpent in an iron grip, both choking as a sword pierced them. It was Yeon’s own sword, now used against him, after begging his beloved brother to end his life.
Rang was inconsolable. Their eyes were locked on one another’s. Yeon could only smile, whilst Rang fell apart by his own actions. This wasn’t how Yeon wanted their last moments together to end. So much remained unsaid.
As Yeon fell, spiralling towards the Samdo River, only one last thought remained—
Rang would live on.
That was all that mattered.
Yeon found himself alive once more.
Concern was his first thought, followed by confusion. Someone had gone to extreme lengths to bring him back to the land of the living. It was obvious who that would be, who would have the power to ensure such a thing to happen—
But a sacrifice was owed.
Yeon sobbed.
Rang was gone.
Returning to a world without Rang gave Yeon little reason to live.
Guilt and sadness were overpowering. This reality seemed anything but fair. That idiot— why had he done such a thing? Yeon had made a sacrifice for his brother, for the safety of all— and yet, all had been for nothing.
Why was Yeon forced to remain here without his beloved dongsaeng beside him?
Yeon recalled their times in the forest, the nightmare of Rang’s that had become a reality. His brother had longed for the taste of azaleas, of the years they’d spent together living on the mountain, reminiscing about a simpler time.
And so, Yeon had brought him to rest here.
Rang was no longer beside him, where he belonged.
No matter his strength, Yeon couldn’t hold back a sob. He was alone again. His dongsaeng was no more. He’d failed to protect his brother, to keep him safe, to cherish the precious gift from his father.
Yeon took a breath. Another tear fell, staining the gravesite before him for a mere moment before evaporating in the evening sky. Rang’s portrait stared at him, and Yeon’s mind was decided.
If given a second chance, he wouldn’t make the same mistake twice.
Yeon had never expected to be on the receiving end of time meddling.
A long since forgotten enemy had resurfaced. Their fight was ferocious, and yet Yeon had remained the victor, to no one’s surprise. But the foe he faced had another trick up their sleeve, a way to rid the world of Yeon, though not by ending his life.
Yeon couldn’t understand what was happening, at first. He’d awoken on a bustling street, in a place he didn’t recognise. Many passed him by, offering only an odd glance, and whispered gossip out of earshot. He was quick to return to his feet, mind alert, waiting for the worst, for his fight to resume—
But here, all was calm.
Yeon couldn’t quite decipher what exactly he was seeing. Then, everything began to fall into place. He did recognise bits and pieces, here and there. But for all of this to make sense, for him to understand what was happening, there was only a single explanation—
Had Yeon truly… been sent back in time?
The reality frightened him at first, concerned for what evildoing was occurring in his present time due to his absence. His primary focus had to be that— figuring out a way to return to where he belonged, and save those he cared for.
But that thought led him to another, a memory, a person who mattered more to him than any other alive in the present. Here, in a time before Imugi, before Ji-ah, before all the events that unfolded in recent years…
Yeon realised it then—
Rang was still alive!
Considering what now was technically the current year, Yeon hesitated.
Right now, Yeon’s last confrontation with his brother was when he’d struck Rang down with his sword. The memory was bitter, immediately sparking guilt and sorrow, but he couldn’t focus on what had already come to pass.
None of that mattered.
Rang, his brother, was here— right before his very eyes.
Yeon knew he should act dumb, to revert back to what behaviour would be expected of him during this time. He couldn’t help himself when a smile spread across his face, exclaiming his happiness of seeing his dongsaeng, wanting to run closer and pull him into his arms.
Rang’s first response, understandably, was to attack him.
Yeon had expected as much, but was adamant not to harm even a single tuft of fur upon his dongsaeng’s tail.
There was hatred in Rang’s eyes, and his determination to strike down Yeon was commendable, in a way. He defended himself, utilising his superior speed and strength to wear Rang down, insisting they need not fight.
The younger brother was finally out of breath, staring at Yeon’s eyes with confusion when he was met with a sad longing, tears staining the elder’s cheeks. It caught him by surprise, and Yeon seized the moment to pull Rang into a comforting embrace.
Holding his dongsaeng close, Yeon hoped to never leave his side ever again.
There was now more at stake than Yeon’s life.
Rang had allowed Yeon to work with him, utilising their combined strength and determination to take down those who sought their deaths. It was nostalgic, taking Yeon back to times in their past and future where they’d fought back to back, alongside each other— as if they were inseparable.
Yeon loved their time together more than he’d ever imagined. He missed Rang so much, savouring every moment together, yet lamenting all the years in the past that they’d wasted apart.
All their enemies had been dealt with now. Rang stood ominously amongst their fallen foes. He was silent, as if contemplating something, grip tightening on his axe.
“Rang-ah?” Yeon asked, taking a few steps closer, sheathing his sword. “What’s wrong?” He added, trying and failing to mask how concerned he felt.
“You’re Yeon, and yet… you’re not.” Rang met his eyes that moment, studying his reaction. “You’re someone different.” He bit out the final word, not as an insult, but as if the concept saddened him. “You’re from the future, aren’t you, hyung?”
“Rang-ah…” Yeon was at a loss for words, wanting to comfort his dongsaeng, scared of what he would think if he ever learnt the truth. “I…”
“A different time…” Rang mumbled to himself. “A time when I’m… dead, aren’t I?”
Yeon’s eyes widened. How was it that Rang could always read him so well?
“That’s not it,” he replied with a nervous shake of his head.
“Don’t deny it. I can see the look in your eyes, hyung. You’re grieving every moment we’re together.” Rang glanced away, shrugging his shoulders as if it wasn’t that big of a deal. “I only hope I died for a good cause.”
Yeon grimaced. Now would be a good time to speak up, he realised.
“No. It wasn’t.” Yeon was shaking, holding himself back. “You threw your life away, Rang-ah!” The lump in his throat made it difficult to speak, tears forcing their way out. “You… sacrificed yourself so that I could live on.”
There was silence in the wake of his words. Rang was no longer facing him, perhaps ignoring him, or not wishing to hear what he had to say.
Yeon couldn’t tell; all he wanted was for Rang to cherish his own life as much as he did.
“Rang-ah?”
His dongsaeng finally turned to him, expression unreadable.
“I’m just surprised I managed to avoid death for that long,” Rang replied half-heartedly, not allowing time for further conversation. He walked past Yeon, heading towards the exit. “We need to go.”
Yeon stared at his brother’s back, hoping his words had been enough for Rang to realise just how much he mattered to him.
A gumiho only ever has one true love.
Rang had discovered that the hard way. She’d died in his arms, and Yeon could do nothing but look on in horror as the events unfolded.
Yeon raced to his brother’s side, holding him before Rang could collapse, cradling his head as sobs fell from his lips uncontrollably. His young dongsaeng had never loved someone like her before, having never allowed someone in, to know him, to steal his heart.
It reminded Yeon too much of his own past love.
Yeon pulled Rang closer, feeling the tears stain his shirt, arms clawing at him with sorrowful desperation. He comforted his dongsaeng the best he could, having never seen Rang like this since that fateful reunion all those years ago, and how it had ended in bloodshed.
Nothing about their lives was fair.
Were they both destined to always lose those they cherished?
Yeon preferred his life here, in the past.
Rang was alive. That’s what mattered. But even then, Yeon had work to do. He had to figure out how to ensure he changed the future, before it was too late, to ensure Rang’s death was no longer set in stone.
Yeon tried everything—
And now, his time was up.
He hoped his meddling would benefit Rang when the time came.
Yeon realised now that no matter the reason, a man could not continue to exist out of his own time. He was being pulled back, forced to return to where he once came from.
Rang clutched at him, tears in his eyes, begging him to stay. They remained like that for a moment, neither willing to let go, wanting desperately to keep their lives as they were, here and now.
Regardless of what they longed for, they couldn’t hold on forever.
Yeon called out for his dongsaeng as the world around him disappeared.
Yeon woke in the present, startling back to reality.
He was in his home. It was mid morning, apparently, the day after he’d left. Nothing appeared out of the ordinary, but Yeon was quick to his feet, recalling vividly all that had occurred to him during his time in the past.
It couldn’t have been a dream.
But he had to make sure.
Yeon knew there was a single location that would confirm if anything he’d done in the past had an effect on his future.
He swiftly left his home, driving faster than he should, returning to the one place that would always be considered his home first and foremost, to himself and his brother, no matter the time that passed.
Yeon could hardly breathe when he stumbled up their mountain, reaching the specific point where he’d buried his dongsaeng. He was searching, desperately, fear climbing up his throat, choking him with worry.
He collapsed on the ground, unsure if he should celebrate or grieve.
Until—
“So… I was right.”
Yeon gasped, shocking himself back to the present moment. That voice… it could only belong to—
“Is this really where you buried me, hyung?” The familiar man asked, stepping up beside Yeon, before glancing down at him. “Well… I’m sorry to disappoint you, but I’m not dead.”
It was Rang.
Yeon dismissed his words immediately, stumbling to his feet, crying out his name—
“Rang-ah!”
Yeon had never hugged anyone so tightly. Even Rang was taken aback, struggling in the elder’s hold, but relaxing as the moment lingered on. Yeon felt arms around him, returning the embrace, though he could no longer speak.
He sobbed, fresh tears staining his cheeks, but they weren’t those of sorrow— but of relief.
“Rang-ah…” Yeon whispered, not wanting to let go yet. “I’ve missed you,” he confessed, words coming out broken between gasps for breath. “So much!”
He received a chuckle in return. “I missed you too, hyung,” Rang replied, closing his eyes, unable to hold back his own tears. “I’m glad to be home.”
Yeon couldn’t express the happiness and gratitude overpowering him.
Everything was finally as it should be.
Rang was here, in his arms, safe and sound— his father’s precious gift— alive, and well.
Yeon held him a little closer, comforted by Rang’s warmth.
In that moment, Yeon decided— he would never lose his beloved dongsaeng ever again— no matter what he had to do to ensure that Rang continued to live on.
From now, until the day Yeon died.