Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Aguero was five when he watched the Khun family’s official fights for the first time. His elder sister, having turned ten that year, was competing; thus, their branch of the family had VIP seating reserved for them in the stadium where the annual battle took place.

In previous years, his mother took his sister, Alina, to watch and learn from the older children fighting each other and prepare for her own upcoming fight. She said Aguero was “too young” for the violence in the official fights and had his aunt—her younger sister—watch him those days.

This year, however, was special enough for Aguero and even little Kiseia, swaddled in her mother’s arms, to attend. They settled down in the VIP area labelled “Agnis”, taking seats on leather sofas shaded by an awning, instead of the crowded marble benches beneath them in the late morning sun.

“Look at your sister,” Mother orders, so he does.

He surveyed the arena. Alina and ten other children around her height stood on the perimeter of a large circle. From the VIP box for families of competitors, Aguero had a bird’s eye view of their positions and the miniature labyrinth of obstacles—trees, shrubs, and boulders—in the circle, tall enough to hide the competitors from each other.

Upon the shot of a cannon, they simultaneously start towards the middle.

Aguero watches them go as they race inward, leaping over bushes like hurdles. It didn’t take long for the competitors to reach each other.

Mother shakes his shoulder and points. “Alina’s over there, Aguero.”

Indeed she was. On the far side of the arena, a figure with Alina’s long plait stands over the unmoving body of another child with short blue hair the same shade as hers, bloody sword in hand.

A boy Aguero saw around the neighborhood approaches her from behind with a long knife. He lunges at Alina, blade pointed to the small of her back. Mother and Aunt both sucked in their breaths.

Alina swiftly turns around and meets his blade with her own with a clang, pushing his strike to the side. Both women released a sigh of relief.

With a backhand, Alina slashes across the boy’s chest, leaving a shallow gash. As he keels over, she raises her sword over her head with both hands and brings it down on his head.

The boy falls over on his side. The hand he held over his wound goes limp.

Aguero’s breath stills.

Mother and Aunt clap. Kiseia clumsily brings her chubby palms together in imitation of them while Aguero goggles at the boy’s body.

Aguero’s aunt turns in his direction. “Don’t worry,” she whispers. “Alina used the flat of the blade, so he’s just unconscious. He’s not dead, so his family can’t retaliate. It’s a fair loss.”

The rest of the match passes similarly. Alina encounters and incapacitates two more children.

When Alina’s last opponent topples over in exhaustion, the sound of a horn resonates throughout the arena. The audience immediately goes into a frenzy, screaming and clapping and chanting while Alina wipes blood off her cheek with the back of her hand. The echoes of their shouts die down as they disperse.

Aguero’s mother gracefully stands up. His aunt soon follows, scooping up Kiseia. The sisters link arms.

“Lord Eduan’s blood runs strong in Alina, dear sister.”

“As expected of my daughter.” Mother grasps Aguero’s hand as they leave the bone-white stands.

The awards ceremony takes place half an hour after the match. Aguero’s family is ushered into a small auditorium with only enough seats for twenty or so families. Six of the children from the arena make their way onto the stage in a single file line.

Six, he realizes, is fewer than the ten who were Alina’s competitors earlier.

Where are the others?

Alina enters the stage alone, taking a position in front of the rest.

A vicious smile etches itself onto Mother’s face. “It’s not a tie this year,” she whispers the words slowly to her younger sister, savoring the words’ like aged wine.

The youth onstage all dress finely: delicate white lace, crisp black slacks, polished shoes. One of the boys Alina had knocked out has bandages wrapped around his chest and temple.

Alina wears a shimmering sea-blue dress and a pair of sapphire stud earrings; Aguero remembers Mother purchasing these after hours of fussing over a catalog.

The dress is freshly pressed and Alina’s hands are clean; none of the competitors have a speck of blood remaining on them.

Aguero watches a blue-haired woman press a blue handkerchief into Alina’s hands. Her bloodless hands shake slightly as she hooks it onto a lock of hair behind her ear, tying it to her plait.

She straightens and smiles with her lips. The other youths behind her collectively glower at the back of her head as the adult who had presented Alina the token walks offstage, her heeled shoes click-clacking behind her.

Mother squeezes his shoulder, warm fingers and sharp nails digging into his shirtsleeve.

“See, Aguero? This is what it means to be recognized as a member of this family. You will be on that stage one day.”

She points at the row of silent children behind his sister. “To have her own blood recognized, Alina spilled theirs.

“The year you turn ten, you will follow her example and earn your family name as well.”

Hours later, Aguero walks into his home with his mother and sister.

As Mother walks ahead, Alina slouches, ruining her previously immaculate posture. Her jaw is clenched and her eyes glazed over.

Mother had told him, You must follow her example.

Chapter Text

From his Lighthouse, Khun watches Rak and Paracule throw their spears into the fray of dogs and thieves fighting each other. He’d begun worrying about Shibisu and the bull when he appeared.

“A penny for your thoughts?”

An unfamiliar voice jolts him from his thoughts. In a flash, Khun swipes a knife from his Pocket.

Khun leaps forward and turns around, pointing his knife at the intruder.

The intruder laughs. “Don’t act so tough.”

As they walk closer to the screen of Khun’s Lighthouse, Khun watches the blue light illuminate the figure of a young-looking man slightly taller than himself. He had short blue hair, cobalt eyes, and a smug smile.

All were traits shared by Aguero’s many half-siblings, born and raised on Khun Eduan’s floating castle.

Khun notes, with dread, that the intruder wore a short, dark blue tie under his collar. The tie was simple, with only a light blue border for decoration. However, its quality was suspiciously higher than the shirt it was paired with. Not unlike the bandana he wore in his own hair.

He might be…!

“It’s been a while since I was in a Lighthouse like this. Reminds me of old times.” The man takes two slow, leisurely steps towards Khun, polished leather shoes tapping the suspendium floor.

From a closer distance, the man’s features look youthful yet ageless. Khun cannot pin the man’s face into any single age range. He held a handheld gaming console in his left hand.

“Who’re you? What are-”

The man—no, the Ranker—cuts him off with a wave of his hand. “Oh? I just wanna borrow this Lighthouse.”

“What?!”

Behind Khun, the Lighthouse whirs to life. Turning around, he is greeted by its many screens, flashing with commands and outputs.

On his other side, the Ranker fiddles with his console.

Khun reaches his hands towards the keyboard, entering a few short commands. The Lighthouse does not respond.

Thankfully, the man only used Khun’s Lighthouse to find his teammates.

He bantered with them like Khun wasn’t in the room, listening to every word.

“Ms. Ice Strawberry, where are you?”

“Hachuling? Oh, sorry, Blueberry. I’m in the grassy part of the testing arena. I found a homeless guy!”

“Blueberry” and his friends addressed each other with food-related nicknames. Khun knows (without context) that the Ranker—Hachuling—was working with some Princess, who might fight a Ranker. During their test. (None of it made sense to him, which was rare.)

What on earth was Khun Hachuling here for?

“Sounds good. See y’all soon.” Hachuling hangs up and tucks his console into his pants pocket. He waves at Khun. “I’m going too. Thanks for your Lighthouse, Blue.”

“WAIT!”

Khun jumps to his feet and blurts out the question weighing on his mind. “Are you also a son of Khun?”

Are you like me?

Hacking with a gaming console, fooling around during the Floor Administrator’s exam of all things… Blueberry seemed awfully frivolous. His band of gremlins didn’t seem to be from the Khun Family either.

But he possessed the same coloring as Khun, as well as the same trophy awarded for defeating one’s same-age siblings.

At some point, he had also borne the weight of the Khun Family’s name, but was no longer affiliated.

Who are you, and what are you doing with your life?

Hachuling looks down at him. “Oh. Are you my little brother? Well, I don’t really care.”

He stretches the left breast of his shirt until it is taut, revealing a small, intricate, eight-winged badge.

Wolhaiksong.

“I’ve been out of the family for a long time,” he crows. “Ever since I got this wing. Jealous?”

It was clear, Khun thinks, that the other man had left the family with no plans to return. Instead he tried to increase the distance between them until the day he left the Tower and never looked back.

“Hmph.” Khun furrows his brow and lets his lip curl into a sneer. “Why should I be jealous of a guy with a wing who ran away like a loser?”

Aguero is nothing like this man. The day he left, he vowed to come back one day, no matter what.

“I’m Khun. I’ll use this name to rule the Tower one day.”

He wouldn’t run away or leave anything behind. He’d return to take it all back, and then some.

Chapter Text

In the Tower, a person belonging to two families bears the names of both. Descendants of the Ten Great Families put the last name of the Family Head first, regardless of their other parent’s gender.

Khun Aguero Agnis is a legitimate child of the Khun family—specifically, the Agnis branch consisting of only his mother, her younger sister, and three cousins-turned-siblings. When Aunt was assassinated and Mother took Kiseia in, her secondary surname and their overall standing among the branches didn’t change.

Aguero knew of powerful Rankers like Po Bidau Lyborick Khun, who belonged to more than one Great Family and put his father’s family name first.

Princesses of Jahad were an exception; the King’s name served as their shared secondary surname. Their primary surnames indicated their true allegiances; Aguero thought it an interesting subversion of the Khun Family, where one’s secondary surname defined one’s loyalty.

Millenia ago, when Khun Maia Javier was chosen by Jahad, she had no choice but to discard her mother’s last name. (Maschenny Javier, one of the few Rankers among Eduan’s wives, was said to be descended from nobility. The country her ancestors lived in was annexed by Khun Eduan when he took over the 111th Floor.)

She maintained a connection to her mother by renaming herself “Khun Maschenny Jahad” upon being chosen by Headon. Outside the 111th Floor, the name “Maschenny” was now hers alone.

When Headon came to Maria’s coronation, she kept her given name. Her relationship with her mother was strained, and Aguero knew Khun Maria Jahad would not write home.

“Mother is finally happy now that I’ll be a Princess,” she told him the night before she moved to Jahad’s Palace. They met in secret at an abandoned garden overgrown with grapevines, hiding from the whispers that they were in love. It couldn’t be further from the truth, but they wouldn’t have plausible deniability if someone did find them.

“I leave tomorrow. I won’t have to see her again and she won’t have to support me anymore. She’s set for life, too. Win-win.”

The pale skin on Maria’s arms shone as she stepped into the moonlight. She usually wore long sleeves to hide a legion of bruises, so they hadn’t seen natural sunlight in years. Tonight her arms were bare and unmarred.

Aguero watched her from his seat in the shade. “What about you? The selection is over, but things will only get harder for you. Is that really a win to you?”

Maria was a big fish in the small pond populated by their half-siblings, but she’d soon be thrown into a tank of sharks. Her new big sisters were all stronger, meaner Princesses of Jahad.

“It’ll work out.” She spun around to face him. “I’m used to struggling to survive. I can handle whatever it takes to be Maria Jahad.”

Meanwhile, Alina couldn’t and never would take on the Jahad name. She’d lived and died as “Khun Alina Agnis, beloved daughter and sister”, stark letters set in her newly-engraved headstone.

It was clear, Aguero thought, that she was tired of struggling, and decided she’d rather not survive at all. He wondered if she’d still feel this way, had she become a Princess.

Neither Aguero nor Kiseia held a candle to her, the gifted eldest child of the Agnis branch family.

In the months following Alina’s funeral, Mother took to wine like their legendary absent father. She blamed herself for their family’s misfortunes: burdening Alina with the responsibility of their family’s fate, forcing Aguero to become a cold-blooded tactician beyond his years, honing Kiseia into the sharpest weapon. Failing to realize her sister was not infected with tuberculosis, but being poisoned. Her earlier mistakes that led to their precarious position: produce a Princess or lose all power.

“It’s all my fault, Aguero. I’m sorry,” she murmured, slumped over the dining table at midnight with a wine glass and several empty bottles.

Their family fell from grace after Alina’s failure. Alina, who lost everything, took her own life and their family’s stability with it. Mother fell into an ongoing bout of grief many times worse than the one after Aunt’s death. Kiseia spent more time at the cemetery than at home.

Aguero pretended to resign to his fate as an abandoned child. Secretly, he lay in wait for a chance to sow the seeds of his ambitions. After all, he thought, at rock bottom you could only go up.

(He was truly, he thought, his mother’s child.)

He was ready, armed with a packed Mandarondenna, when Headon spirited him away to the Inner Tower.

Chapter Text

While saving up and training to beat the 20th Floor, Khun hears about a new Regular on the block.

Considering the frequent arrivals of new Regulars, this one shouldn’t have mattered to him. Just another new face who would soon fade into the background.

Except they weren’t a stranger. The kid in question was a short boy with even shorter, Khun-blue hair, known for his deadly lightning spear and a horrible temper.

Involuntarily, his mouth quirks into a lopsided smile. “Ran’s mommy finally let him leave the nest, huh?”

All Khun children in their generation knew or at least, knew of Khun Ran. Youngest child of Lady Maschenny—most powerful wife of Khun Eduan, having spawned the most powerful Princess of Jahad from the Khun Family; baby brother to said Princess, Khun Maschenny Jahad.

At a young age, he unlocked his ability to use a spear of lightning and was chosen to be a Regular. When Khun was eleven and Ran was eight, the younger boy told him his ascension to the Tower was being delayed a few years.

“The Family Head is letting me stay until I’m fifteen so I can win my birthright, and because my sister the Princess told him she thinks I’ll do better if I leave when I’m older.” Ran had said, as he opened another yogurt bottle.

The boys had been sitting on the top of a marble ledge in Ran’s mother’s garden, surrounded by hydrangeas blooming in shades of purple and blue. Tall deciduous trees protected them from the harsh summer sunlight by providing shade.

“Because you’re too small and weak to stand a chance against real Regulars?” Aguero sipped his own bottle of yogurt. Ran punched him in the arm.

“Mom badgered him into letting me stay at home a few more years so I can learn ‘life skills’.” He made air quotes with one hand and crushed the bottle in the other, probiotic drink spilling onto his shorts.

Aguero choked on his own drink.

Now, he sits across the table from Ran as Novick sets a steaming plate of kimchi fried rice onto the bare table.

(“For your kid brother, Boss.” said Novick.

“Shut up,” said Ran, who promptly dug in with the kid’s spoon Novick provided with the plate.)

After half the plate is gone, Ran looks up from his plate at Khun. “A.A.”

“Yeah?”

“I’m gonna ask you something. Answer me truthfully.”

“Sure.”

“Why are you on the 20th Floor?”

“Because I passed the previous 18 Floors.”

“No, really. How come you’re still an F-rank Regular?

“I wasn’t expecting to catch up to you on such a low-numbered Floor. I thought I’d meet you on the 25th Floor at least. What's up with you?” Ran, satisfied with his monologue, shoves another spoonful of rice into his mouth.

“I was waiting for you. I baited Novick into joining my team by promising you’d join the team. He wants to fight you.”

“Pell be dah troof,” Ran scoffs through a mouthful of rice. Tell me the truth.

Khun leans back in his chair. “Okay, okay. I had a team but I split from them a few floors back. We split over…conflicting interests. I’ve been recruiting since then.”

“Conflicting interests?” Ran is relentless, thinks Khun.

“Yeah,” he replies. “The rest of the team didn’t really get along with another teammate. So they went ahead while I’m going at a slower pace to take care of her.”

Ran chokes. After coughing a few times, he gasps, expressionless: “Taking care of her?”

“Yeah,” Khun replies. He stares evenly into Ran’s eyes. “She’s been in a wheelchair for the past few years.”

Ran’s eyes twitch separately, one after the other.

“What the heck, A.A?”

“Your team is full of weirdos, A.A.”

Khun and Ran hiked up the stairs leading to Rachel’s room. “It’s inconvenient sometimes to bring Rachel’s wheelchair down the stairs,” Khun explained. “But this room faces north on the highest floor, so it has the best natural lighting during the day.”

Judging from Ran’s grunt in reply, the implication that Rachel rarely leaves her room doesn’t go unheard.

“Is she a weirdo like the rest of your team?”

“She’s okay. Her personality is a little bland, but I don’t think she’ll annoy you like Novick.”

“That guy is too annoying. He patronizes me by treating me like a kid and his obsession with fighting me is disturbing.” Ran scowls. “The chicken guy with all the Endorsi Jahad posters on his walls is just ridiculous. Does he think being in the same team as you will give him an opportunity to meet her? Does he think she’ll give him the time of day if he does??”

Khun laughs. “Let him dream, Ran. I don’t think that will happen anytime soon, though, since Shibisu’s team is several floors above us now.”

“Apple is okay. The way Michael looks at you is so creepy, A.A. It's like he wants to eat you! I don’t support your choice in teammates. Except for me.” Ran looks up at Khun, brows knit together.

Khun turns away, to face Rachel’s door. “This is the last member of my team, Ran. Be polite, okay?”

He knocks three times. “Rachel?”

“Come in, Mr. Khun.”

Khun turns the knob. Ran squints a little as he exits the dim hallway to enter Rachel’s bedroom, well-lit by the bright afternoon sun.

Khun introduces Ran to each other, laughs nervously when Ran refuses Rachel’s handshake, excuses him by claiming he’s shy.

As Khun inquires Rachel on her well-being and asks her what she wants to eat for dinner, he feels Ran’s gaze on his back.

After they leave her room and descend the stairs to Khun’s room, Ran locks the door and surveys the soundproofing on Khun’s walls. Then he brings his face close to Khun’s and whispers, “She feels like a snake.

“Did you want to let me get a first impression of her before you tell me why you’re letting this weakling freeload off you? Her voice is so fake, A.A. I can tell she wants to sound sweet and plain and it’s kind of working because she is plain but I don’t think she’s as nice as she wants people to think she is.”

Ran huffs after his whisper-rant. He takes a couple steps back to pointedly look Khun in the eye. Khun nods for him to continue. “And?”

“She reminds me of Maria’s mom. She’s sweet, but like cough syrup.” Ran wrinkles his nose.

Khun nods. “Me too.”

“Then why is she here?”

Khun sighs. “It’s complicated.”

He takes a seat on his bed and pats the area next to him. Ran plops onto the mattress.

“She was my best friend’s best friend. He wanted to take her up the Tower to see the stars, but he died on the 2nd Floor. Now I’m bringing her there in his place.”

“You and your friend both have questionable taste in friends. Since when do you have friends anyway?” Leave it to Ran to insult the dead and the living in one breath, Khun thinks.

“Since Bam. But you’re kind of my friend, aren’t you?”

“That’s more complicated.”

“Hypocrite. Anyway, here’s the catch:” Khun leans close to Ran. “I think Rachel killed Bam.”

He pauses for a few seconds to let that sink in.

Ran’s eyes widen as Khun’s real mission dawns on him. “And you want to avenge him.”

Khun grins like a shark. “Bingo.”

As Ran finds his place within their team dynamic, he doesn’t ask Khun about Rachel or Bam again. Instead, he waits patiently for Khun to tell him bits and pieces about his relationship with Bam every once in a while, like a goldfish watching its owner slowly shake fish food into its bowl.

However, he frequently ribs Khun whenever they’re alone about his choice of name.

“When did you start calling yourself Khun?” He asks one night, when Khun treats the two of them to sushi.

“Since the Floor of Tests,” Khun replies evenly. He snaps a picture of his red snapper nigiri to send to Shibisu, who recommended the restaurant.

“That’s lame,” Ran says through a mouthful of fatty tuna (Hatz’s favorite). “Does this have anything to do with what you told me about wanting a fresh start as a Regular?”

“Don’t go there.”

The short boy pitches his voice higher. “When people think of the name ‘Khun’, they’ll think of me??” He returns his voice to its usual timbre. “Your daddy issues run deep, A.A!” His shoulders shake as he eats another piece of tuna. He chokes on it.

Khun grits his teeth and picks up an ikura roll with red lacquer chopsticks. “I told you that in confidence.”

Ran chugs the rest of his Calpis and glares. “Do you see me going by my surname after leaving home?? I swear to god, you and Maschenny are ridiculous.” He coughs.

Khun sighs.

With a steady hand, Ran pours himself another cup of Calpis. “If you want, I can make fun of your mommy issues instead.”

“Ran.”

Chapter Text

The second Khun Aguero Agnis steps into the field of yellow grass under Evankhell’s Hell, he commits himself to the bit of being a self-serving Regular climbing the Floors.

He lapses after all of ten seconds, hesitating before rushing between an alligator twice his height wielding a tall spear and a boy shakily brandishing a needle.

He grabbs the boy’s hand.

“Run!”

The boy is fragile, Aguero thinks as they run through the tall grass. He breathes hard and stumbles behind Aguero as they run away from the gator. His hand is soft and has barely any calluses compared to Aguero’s own.

Forget hunting rabbits, the boy—with his wide eyes and timid expression—looks and acts more like a rabbit than any species of predator. He wouldn’t last a day as a Regular; what is he doing here?

Then Aguero truly looks at the needle in the boy’s hands. Not any needle, but the Black March itself, the three red eyes of Jahad glaring at him from its handle.

Weak Boy barely deflects Aguero’s questions with non-answers. He seems nervous, but truthful enough that Aguero can believe he genuinely doesn’t know what he’s doing with Black March, either.

In addition to being weak, he doesn’t seem to understand anything Aguero is asking, like he grew up in a cave or under a rock.

Against his questionably better judgement, Aguero decides he wants to learn more about what this kid is hiding.

He extends his hand to the boy he just saved. “I’m Khun. Khun Aguero Agnis.” Not Aguero, a name only used by his direct family. Not A.A, a nickname from his half-siblings; he’s not on the 111th Floor anymore. “What’s your name?”

“Bam…the Twenty-Fifth Bam.”

Bam only proves to be more unusual with each new test. When Lero-ro flings them all back with a barrier of high-pressure shinsu, Bam alone is unmoved.

Khun says nothing when the other Regulars protest Bam’s “luck” to avoid drawing unnecessary attention to their team. Nevertheless, he wonders how Bam, who could barely swing a needle, hadn’t moved an inch while on both sides, Khun and Rak were blown away.

He walks slowly through the barrier, feeling the shinsu gently push against him like the chlorinated water in the swimming pools on the 111th Floor. He tightens his grip on Manbarondenna.

At his side, Rak mutters as he wades through the shinsu. A man and a woman yell as they force their way through the barrier. A small girl with green skin, a green hook, and a lizard tail walks briskly ahead of him.

On the other side of the barrier, Bam and Mr. Lero-ro are seated. Lero-ro seems to be explaining something to Bam. Khun wonders what they’re talking about.

He follows Rak through the other side of the barrier—and nearly falls over when Mandarondenna gets stuck.

Khun tightens his grip until his knuckles turn white and pulls the briefcase through. At this stage he can’t reveal its contents just yet.

Now their team is safe, or at least until the next test. He waves with his free hand. “Hey, Bam!”

Bam turns to look at him. His eyes widen in surprise. Lero-ro turns to his and Rak’s direction and furrows his brow. He whispers something to Bam that Khun can’t hear.

He wonders what they are talking about. He wonders if it has anything to do with him.

“By the way, Mr. Khun—your baggage looks heavy,” says Director Yu Hansung.

This, and the entire ordeal that is Yu Hansung’s test, give Khun a headache. From the riddle that almost gave him an anxiety attack to Rak’s gloating to Yu Hansung calling him out for hesitating, nothing is going his way.

It doesn’t help that Yu Hansung is the first person in the Inner Tower to bring up his history to his face: an unwelcome reminder that many more will follow.

Sure enough, his team ends up facing off against not one but TWO Princesses of Jahad. (The universe must be conspiring against him.)

The Crown Game ends for their team when Bam finds the girl he’s looking for and shields her with his own body. He is knocked unconscious; they are eliminated.

Bam’s friend “Michelle Light” is suspicious as hell. That’s a statement, coming from Khun of all people.

Her flimsy excuses confirm Khun’s hypothesis that she abandoned Bam because she didn’t care about him as much as he did for her.

Their conversation over comatose Bam’s sickbed leaves a bad taste in his mouth.

Distantly, he wonders if he feels hurt because Bam and Rachel's dynamic reminds him of what he did for Maria.

The rest of Khun’s stay on Evankhell’s Hell goes better: to his delight, he is assigned to the Light Bearer position. He learns quickly and easily from his classes with Mr. Lero-ro and becomes “friends” with Shibisu, Hatz, and several other Regulars, including the Princesses themselves.

(His extra points from extra credit assignments are put to good use feeding Endorsi and Anaak while they recover from injuries.)

Of course, his newfound comrades all call him “Khun”. He wouldn’t have it any other way.

That name and his hair mark him like a blue poison dart frog in the wild. Not that he’s ever seen one in real life.

When he first meets new Regulars, he watches them take in his name and his phenotype. They grit their teeth and curse his plans within plans, recognizing the Khun Family's reputation in himself. Hate his family he does, but he'll milk every drop of his family’s notoriety to weaponize their fear.

Endorsi alone actually knows the extent of treachery he is capable of. He wonders if she and Maria ever met in King Jahad’s palace.

She does not share what she knows about his past to the other Regulars. He keeps mum about all the adoptive older sisters he knows she’s killed to become a Princess. Reluctant kindred spirits, they keep each other’s secrets.

Sometime after Hoh’s funeral, Rachel recovers enough to finally have a real conversation with Bam.

Khun knows this because Bam comes to him and Rak, and tells them: “I want to take Rachel up the Tower to see the stars.

“I know it’ll be hard,” he continues before either can object or retort, “and you probably still think I’m foolish for wanting to stay with her after she left me behind. But I care about her, and her dream means a lot to me.

“Will you climb the Tower with me? I understand most Regulars wouldn’t want to, but I consider you both the closest friends and best teammates I’ve had here. If you’ll have me—”

This is the difference between me and Bam, Khun thinks. I gave Maria everything, but never asked anything of her. I never asked to go with her.

Rak headbutts Bam in the stomach. “Of course!” he bellows. “What kind of hunter do you take me for, Black Turtle?! The yellow female turtle is weak, but you have gotten stronger. I haven’t hunted you properly yet.”

Bam groans as he gets up from the ground.

Khun throws his head back and laughs. Rak and Bam turn to face him.

“Of course we’re coming with you, Bam. We’re a team, aren’t we?”

Khun gets up and dusts off his pants. He extends a hand to Bam. “I’m gonna get you to the top of the Tower in the sneakiest, trickiest way possible.”

The night before the Submerged Fish Test, Bam told Khun: “The day we met Mr. Lero-ro, he told me to be careful around you because you’re from a dangerous family.”

Khun thought back to when Bam alone withstood Mr. Lero-ro’s shinsu barrier. It made perfect sense now, knowing that he’s an Irregular.

“Not that I agree with him, of course!” Bam waves his hands. “I’m just glad I got to really know you, because now I know for sure he was wrong.”

“No, he’s right.”

Bam makes a face. “Mr. Khun, don’t say things like that about yoursel-”

“He’s right, Bam. I’m gonna get us to the top of the Tower by being the Khun family douchebag I am. But you'll be fine, because I’m on your side.”

Bam smiles cheek-to-cheek and his eyes soften into crescents. “Yeah!”

But somewhere along the way, while Khun was executing his strategy and entertaining uninvited guests in his Lighthouse, something had happened in the shinsu bubble where he’d last seen Bam.

Rachel was the only one to leave the Net Dolphin Madame’s mouth in a pool of green sludge.

“Where’s the Black Turtle?!”

“He’s—the Bull—”

The other Regulars gather in a circle as Rak bellows at Rachel, interrogating her on Bam’s whereabouts.

Khun watches from a distance as he realizes the sick joke the universe is playing on him. Children of his family were notorious for their cunning and treachery, but Bam was the last person he could ever wish to become a casualty of his plans.

Chapter Text

“Run, Mr. Khun! It’s a trap!”

The puzzle pieces in his brilliant mind come together as the ground beneath his feet breaks apart. Just minutes ago, he’d made fun of Jyu Viole Grace for his shabby attempt at a villainous speech, a sorry cover for his reluctance to actually hurt Khun.

Unusual for a member of FUG, let alone an aspiring Slayer—whose job was literally to kill Jahad and the Ten Great Family Heads—to back down from a fight with a direct descendant of the Khun family.

At that moment, Jyu Viole Grace spoke with a voice Khun hadn’t heard in seven years. A voice he thought he’d never hear again.

Bam really sucks at pretending to be evil,he thinks absent-mindedly.

Bam, whom he mourned and plotted to avenge for years, is alive.

Somewhere along the way, the boy who'd struggled to inflict violence on others became FUG's newest killing machine. Upon first hearing of him, Khun had assumed Viole was somehow connected to Grace Mirchea Luslec, founder and leader of the Forces Under Grace.

How had Bam, who came from the Outside, become Jyu Viole Grace?

Khun wanted to ask Bam so many things.

But he was in the air, surrounded by falling rocks, and falling away from Bam, who reached towards him from far away and shouted words he could not hear.

His vision goes dark as the Hand of Arlene crumbles on top of him.

Chapter Text

Khun wakes up in a bed and room that is not his own. He hears loud, unfamiliar voices.

There are soft sheets under his back; his abdomen feels bare and exposed. He feels something warm and sharp pricking below his collarbone. Cautiously, he opens one eye, and sees the flaming acupuncture needle stuck in his chest and a man and woman screaming at each other. His head hurts; he is unsure whether it is from being buried in rocks or the noise.

The son of Khun does what he was taught to do in situations like this: he yanks the needle out, puts the blond guy in a headlock, and holds the needle to his jugular.

The yelling stops.

His saviors are Ja Wangnan (blond guy) and Yeon Yihwa (lighter of acupuncture needles); they introduce themselves teammates of Jyu Viole Grace. They found him while searching for Viole’s Pocket, which was buried with him.

In other news, Khun sees his name on the television, on a list of casualties from the collapse of the Hand of Arlene. The news station blames FUG and Jyu Viole Grace for the accident.

Meanwhile, everyone in his old team is gone from their bunker, except Gyetang, who is dead, and Dan, who is alive with crippling injuries. Dan, gasping with pain as his legs bleed out, reports that Ran and Novick never came back, and that Apple and Michael were FUG agents all along.

So is Hwaryun, who appears in front of him for the first time in seven years to tell him that yes, Jyu Viole Grace is Bam. She readily admits to colluding with Rachel and FUG to kidnap Bam. He’d fight her if she didn't have valuable intel and a shared goal in helping Bam escape from a certain FUG faction.

Over dinner, Bam’s team (and Khun) watch a television anchor report Jyu Viole Grace and Endorsi Jahad announcing their participation in the Workshop Battle next year. Khun signs them up as well.

Unfortunately, they are still on the 28th Floor. Therefore, they must train to pass the 28th Floor's, then the 29th Floor's exams to be eligible.

How bad could it be? thought Khun. They were the team of a FUG Slayer Candidate. Bam clearly thought they were worth it.

It was worse than he could ever imagine. Not even Ran and Novick were this chaotic.

But Team Sweet & Sour made up for their utter lack of organization with their determination to get “Viole” back. When they finally take the 29th Floor exam, Khun dyes his hair blond and puts on a one-eyed mask before going out. Because he’s supposed to be dead. He also gives himself a new name.

“Mr. Mask?” says Wangnan out loud. He wrinkles his nose. “That’s so lame. And too on-the-nose.”

Khun laughs. “Don’t worry. It’s only temporary.”

Chapter Text

The year-long gambit of stealing Bam from FUG at the Workshop Battle is successful in spite of all obstacles, expected and unforeseen.

Khun speaks to Mr. Lero-ro for the first time since the Floor of Tests after he takes their extended team to a secluded tropical resort owned by Wolhaiksong. He began working for them a few years ago, and has since experienced the woe of being co-workers with both Quant Blitz and Khun Hachuling.

His first evening at the resort, Khun receives a summons outside the infirmary after receiving treatment for his—relatively minor—injuries; his distant brother wants to see him.

That night, Khun meets Hachuling and Mr. Ro at a private dining room, located on a balcony overlooking a palm forest, the beach, and the shinsu sea. They catch up over a simple dinner of fresh seafood and noodles.

As it turns out, Mr. Lero-ro quit his test examiner job right after Khun’s cohort of Regulars went to the 3rd Floor to search for Wolhaiksong.

“Bam’s disappearance sat right with me,” says Mr. Ro. He pinches the tiny straw of his margarita between his thumb and index finger as he gazes into the transparent drink. “The whole affair was very suspicious.

“We found the body of the Bull at the bottom of the Wine Glass some time after the examination. That was when I first began to question if Bam was killed by it, like Rachel said. I didn’t tell anyone, though, because I didn’t want Yu Hansung to catch on and cover everything up immediately.”

Khun nods and sips his pineapple mojito. He normally doesn’t drink alcohol during serious conversations—or at all—but after the entire fiasco of the past year, he deserves a treat. Within the walls of a compound protected by Wolhaiksong, it’s safe enough to unwind.

“And then you met Hachuling on the 77th Floor. Wait”—he does the mental math—“You spent six years searching for Wolhaiksong??”

Then again he can’t judge, considering the seven years he plotted a revenge served cold.

“Yes.” Lero-ro lets out a long-suffering sigh. “It was Quant who found his arcade, actually.”

“I kicked his ass in every game,” Hachuling butts in while devouring a plate of mango sticky rice.

“Hachuling cheated him out of his savings and we almost fought each other.”

“Yeah, it was so extra. Ro here exposed me as a member of Wolhaiksong and wanted in, so I offered him and Quant an internship instead. See, the boss wanted me to observe the new FUG Slayer candidate, but I didn’t feel like it.”

He takes a shot of blueberry soju, exhales, then continues: “I outsourced the job to Lero-ro instead, since he was so desperate to join. You all are incredibly lucky I did, because Ro noticed how much Jyu Viole Grace looked like your Irregular friend.”

Otherwise, Khun and his allies might not have been able to escape the Archimedes without Wolhaiksong’s aid. The sheer amount of luck that allowed them to escape with their lives is not lost on him.

Khun pokes at his shaved ice. “Yeah.”

Hachuling empties his soju bottle and slams it on the table. “All right! It was good eating with you all, but I have to do a checkup on our systems to make sure they’re still secure.”

He gets up and makes finger guns at Khun. “It was good seeing you, little brother. Have fun while the grown-ups do their jobs. Can you write a report on the event for me soon, Ro?”

“Sure.” Mr. Lero-ro has also risen. “I have some other commitments now as well. Please get some rest, Khun.”

With that, they leave Khun with only his half-melted dessert for company.

Khun—with a little difficulty—locates Bam on another balcony overlooking the shore.

His friend turns around, long ponytail bobbing in the gentle breeze. “Hi, Khun.”

“Hi, Bam.”

He joins Bam at the railing. They stand there, side-by-side, gazing at the shore.

They both do not speak. It’s been too long since they were in the same place without being in immediate danger.

Finally, Bam ends the silence. “I’m sorry, Mr. Khun.”

Khun twists his body to face him. “What?”

“I’m sorry, Mr. Khun. I wish we didn’t have to go through all that just to help me escape from FUG. I wish you didn’t have to fake your death because of me. I’m tired. I’m glad I made it here.”

Bam’s facing him now. He’s giving Khun his full attention, waiting for a response—any response—from the friend he hasn’t had a proper conversation with for too long.

“I’m glad we’re safe, too.” He takes a deep breath. “Want to talk about it?”

It being whatever is weighing Bam down, keeping his and Khun’s hands locked around the railing. They feel it as Bam relieves himself of the past seven years:

“You might know already, but FUG held all my friends hostage. Shibisu, Anak, Endorsi, Hatz, Rak, you…Yu Hansung made it clear he knew where you were and could dispatch an assassin at any moment.

“It was worse on the Archimedes—I thought Endorsi would die if I didn’t run away and hide from her fast enough. I’ve felt responsible for all of your lives for so long, it feels surreal that we’re all safe from FUG now.”

He exhales deeply. Khun watches his eyelids gently close for a moment. Bam has become jaded by the Tower in a way different from Khun and his siblings, but changed nonetheless, his innocence gone.

Bam meets his eyes again. “I don’t know what to do now that I’m finally free.”

“Is there anything you want to do?” Khun can’t relate all too well, his single-minded ambition sustaining his endeavors since he left the one place he called a permanent home.

“Some things have crossed my mind. Finding Rachel, learning why FUG wants me so badly, climbing the Tower with you guys…” Bam hesitates. “But I somehow still feel like I can’t actually consider doing them. It’s daunting.

“I’ve been playing the role of Jyu Viole Grace for so long, I don’t know how it feels to stop.” Bam tightens his grip on the balcony railing. “I know I’m Bam, because I hate being FUG’s Slayer candidate. But I’ve lived for so long as Viole, I’m no longer the same Bam you and everyone knew.”

Khun swallows. Heart-to-heart talks aren’t his strong suit. He wonders if they would be, had his childhood been different. Then again, he wouldn’t be standing here otherwise.

He and Bam have both changed so much since the Floor of Tests. They’ve spent much more time apart than together.

On top of that, what they know of each other’s lived experiences only scratch the surface. Khun never told Bam about his childhood, and can scarcely imagine Bam’s training with FUG.

Bam chuckles nervously. “Sorry, Mr. Khun. That was a lot, huh?”

It was, but… “That’s okay, Bam.”

“I never talked this much in FUG. It feels good to be with you again. I like being called ‘Bam’ again.”

He straightens. Khun sees the weight lift off his shoulders, like the earth to the Titan and the boulder to the death-evading man in the myths. Bam is truly resilient, he thinks.

“What did they call you in FUG?” he broaches.

“Slayer Candidate, Jyu Viole Grace—the whole name, Viole,” Bam lists. “Oh, and Hwaryun always called me her god. But in a casual way, y’know. Like a pet name.”

“You like being called Bam because it feels like you’re safe from FUG?”

“Yeah. I had a crisis of sorts when they renamed me Viole. I resented my real name because Rachel gave it to me, and she’s the one who got me there in the first place.”

Ah. “How about now?”

“I’d rather people call me Bam. She gave me the name, so it belongs to me now. Besides, she’s not my whole world anymore; Bam is what my friends call me. Like you, Khun.”

Bam always manages to penetrate the ice within his heart. “Hmph, if you insist.”

Truthfully, he relates to Bam. As a child, Khun resented everything his family name stood for. Now he feels a mix of pride and bitterness towards how his upbringing shaped him like a sharp, durable blade.

Despite everything, he likes to think he’s grown magnificently into his name of choice. It’s—like Bam said—what people call him in this stage of life, including Bam himself.

Perhaps Bam would like to hear his thoughts put in words.

He opens his mouth and is promptly cut off by a weight bowling over him from behind.

“Oi! No hogging the black turtle!” Rak bellows. “I want to see my prey!”

Bam’s eyes light up behind his long bangs. “Mr. Rak!”

Rak waddles to stand between the other two. He points a claw at Khun.

“You too, Blue Turtle! I thought you were dead for a year. A whole year! I was ready to fight Black Turtle in disguise to avenge you!”

From his sprawled position on the floor, Khun puts a hand on his chest. “You’d do that for me, gator? I’m touched.” He bats his lashes for good measure. Bam giggles.

“Shut up, turtle. I found you two so we can rest and do some proper hunting tomorrow.”

After their whole ordeal, sleep sounds like a great idea. It’s been a long day—a long year, and a long seven years.

Bam follows Rak off the balcony, to the well-lit building. “That sounds wonderful, Rak.” His voice sounds like he means it.

Khun gets up and dusts off his pants. He sees the two of them wait patiently in front of the entrance, framed by warm yellow light.

At seven in the morning, Hachuling visits the suite he knows Aguero Agnis is staying in.

He’s been granted a brief reprieve from dealing with the aftermath of the Workshop Battle and has made the conscious choice to visit his little brother. What a good big bro is Hachuling!

The door is slightly ajar. He tiptoes to the entrance and peeks in.

Aguero Agnis sleeps on his side, wrapped in a blanket meant for three people like a blue burrito.

His alligator friend’s pillow is long forgotten as he lies on top of Viole—Bam the Irregular, his mind supplies—in the middle.

“Congrats on becoming a trio again,” he whispers, smiling. He closes the door and leaves them to their sweet dreams.