Chapter Text
The piercing winter of the northern regions was always unforgiving.
The glacial winds bit at Kim Dokja’s cheeks, his teeth clattering. He let out a puff of air just to see it condensate against the near-blinding white of the snow.
His mother, he knows, would raise an absolute uproar if she saw him now. Her beloved heir battling the winter with nothing but a single carriage and only the smallest retinue of people accompanying him. The image would most likely send her into cardiac arrest.
This was precisely the reason why he had not breathed a word to her of his journey during their dinner the evening before. He loved Persephone, he truly did, but oh how he wished she wasn't as overprotective as she was. He knew her worry came from her care and love. He had a tougher childhood than most. His parents always wanted to protect him even though he knew he hardly deserved it.
He probably should have told his father, though. Hades would have worried obviously but he always showed his care silently and deeply. He would have let him go but only if he took half of the palace guards with him (really, no one needed that much protection. It was a two-month trip at most ).
Kim Dokja sighs to himself and brings his numb fingers to his cheeks. There was no point in thinking it over now, he thought, what’s done is already done. He pulls himself out of his mind and stares at his companions bustling around him. They had managed to find a damp cave to rest in for the night. Lee Gilyoung and Shin Yoosung were already arguing about who was going to light the fire. Kim Dokja smiles fondly as he looks at them.
“What’s got you looking so happy?” he feels someone punch his shoulder from behind and groans dramatically.
“Heewon-ssi, aren’t you supposed to be protecting me?” He rubs his shoulder and pouts in the most exaggerated way possible. “Offending the crown is a punishable offence, you know. I could have you hanged.”
Jung Heewon stares down at him disdainfully but there is an amused quirk lurking at the corner of her mouth. “Your threats don’t work anymore, you know,” she says plainly. She nudges his thigh with her foot and plops down right next to him on the cold ground. “We’re set to arrive at the Kaizenix Dukedom in two days if we don't get side-tracked.”
He nods at her and stretches his legs in front of him. Jung Heewon shifts beside him and fiddles with her fingers, a quirk she only does when she has something weighing on her mind. He knows the question she wanted to ask. He's sure all of their companions have the same thoughts as her.
In truth, Kim Dokja hadn't exactly informed his companions on why exactly they were on their way to the Kaizenix dukedom by themselves with little to no protection and barely any planning. They had been travelling since dawn and Kim Dokja hadn't breathed a word of his plans to either of them.
He would tell them, he would, really, if he actually had any clue of what he was doing.
The idea had stemmed in his mind about a week ago. When his advisors were driving him half mad, going on and on about betrothals to the noblewomen, noblemen, princesses and princes he had no interest in. Or when he had to sit in 4-hour-long meetings with the same advisors about politics and court ‘issues’ he could have solved when he was all but 10 years old.
He was tired—exhausted, really—and just wanted a simple break from all the brainless idiots(excluding his companions) surrounding him 10 hours out of the 24 a day but he knew that if he even so much as breathed a word of this to the Emperor and Empress, the whole lot of them would have been killed off.
If it wasn’t obvious already, he didn't particularly want to be the reason for 30 people losing their lives.
So that brings him to his next best option: running away. It’s only temporary; two months at most. He knew the uproar that would happen if he actually ran away (not that he thinks he could. His parents would find him eventually and then he would have to deal with his mother’s burning fury(and worry) and his father’s quiet disapproval(and worry) and… yikes. He shudders from just thinking about it.).
Kim Dokja knows that running away is not something befitting of the crown prince of the Underworld, but he also knows that if someone talked to him about ‘securing the alliance between Eden and Underworld through more ‘convenient’ ways, e.g marriage, between himself and the crown princess, Uriel’ or about ‘how all the farmers’ cattle in the western bridge had suddenly vanished overnight but, oh! Look! A certain wealthy merchant just had a quadruple increase in his own share of cattle over the course of a single week! Wow, what a coincidence!’, forget his parents beheading his court, he was going to start slaughtering them himself.
So, in light of people not dying and him keeping his brain cells intact, he has taken the cowardly route. He doesn't think explaining all of that would be beneficial though. He’s the crown prince of one of the richest nations in the world. He can't just run away whenever things get a little difficult.
Even if that’s exactly what he’s doing right now.
He sighs to himself again and stares at his nails until he feels someone kick his foot gently. He looks up and meets his General’s warm eyes and kind smile. Lee Hyunsung holds out a cup filled with steaming liquid and says, “For you, sire.”
Kim Dokja pushes the cup back towards him with a small shake of his head, his heart lurching from the kindness. “You should take it. I’m fine.”
Lee Hyunsung frowns at him and catches his wrist gently. He places the cup in his hand. Kim Dokja opens his mouth to protest before he gets rudely cut off by the Wicked Witch of the West.
“You’ve been shivering from the moment we stepped out of the border, you blundering idiot, just drink the stupid tonic so we can all rest,” Han Sooyoung says haughtily. She has all her magical herbs spread out in front of her by the fire and she throws a clover at his head.
Kim Dokja glares at her but she just rolls her eyes and stalks towards him. She pushes the mug closer to his chest roughly. “You won't be able to ride tomorrow if you fall ill, Your Highness.” The title is very characteristically said with sarcasm but her tone is very uncharacteristically dripping with worry.
It makes his insides squirm with guilt (just a tiny bit because it’s still Han Sooyoung). He doesn't want any of them to think there’s anything wrong with him (even though there is, just a little bit).
“Gosh, how on edge must I be for you of all people to be concerned over me?” He asks but the joke sounds weak even to his own ears. He glances around the dimly lit cave and sees them all staring at him with expressions varying from worry(the kids and Lee Hyunsung) to apprehension(Jung Heewon) to annoyance(Han Sooyoung).
He looks down at the cup and smells the medicinal herbs wafting from it. The liquid swirls in tiny tornadoes, the colour similar to that of an addled egg. Kim Dokja tips his head back and drinks it whole, focusing on the way the heat of it burns all the way down his throat and the horrific, vomit-inducing taste so he wouldn't have to feel the way his skin prickles under the wrought tension of the room.
“There,” he says once he feels his throat clear. “I’ve drank the gross juice. Can you all stop being weird about me now?”
“We’ll always worry about you,” Lee Hyunsung says softly. He takes the cup from Kim Dokja’s hands and gives his shoulder a reassuring squeeze before standing up to tend to the dwindling fire.
Kim Dokja clears his throat quietly and gets up, stretching his arms. He hears Jung Heewon rustling beneath him and waves her off. “I’m just scouting the perimeter, Heewon-ah. It’s fine.”
“Be safe,” she grunts. She doesn't mention that she already triplechecked the surrounding area of the cave once they had settled there. She just nods at him begrudgingly and he smiles at her. She knows how much he hates being coddled.
He steps out of the cave and has half a second to be shocked at the way the temperature drops from freezing but bearable to freezing and absolutely inhospitable until he sees the heat-summoning arrays littering the mouth of the cave. He laughs quietly. As expected of Han Sooyoung.
Kim Dokja walks farther away from the cave and hums to himself. Once he reaches a distance he finds acceptable, he takes a deep breath and forces his muscles to relax.
He feels more than hears the creaking of his bones as his wings sprout from his back.
Kim Dokja exhales sharply as the wind brushes against his wings before it immediately warms. One good thing about being in his demon form is how endothermic it makes his body.
Midnight black feathers obscure his vision as he brings his wings closer to his face. Onyx horns grow from his head and his body stiffens before relaxing again. He has transformed countless number of times but he doubts he’ll ever get really used to the feeling. All of his senses get dialled up extensively and for the first few seconds of his transformation, he always gets slightly disorientated; the dimensions of his back changing to accommodate his ridiculously large wings; and the red tint in his eyes. It does make his eyesight better but it also makes everything look slightly like an odd colour of puce. It’s not exactly uncomfortable but it's not all that pleasant either. It’s just… weird. Really weird.
Kim Dokja stretches his wings and watches his shadow on the snow. His wings span the length of two large carriages. Like this, he looks like a true demon. Kim Dokja feels a myriad of different emotions flow through him once he has that thought, but they're all too complicated for him to parse out and Kim Dokja really doesn't want to deal with them right now so he ignores them and hopes for the best.
He tears his eyes away from his shadow and looks at the dark sky. He closes his eyes for one, two seconds before he takes off into the skies. He flies high enough until he’s on the same level as the clouds. It's only then that his shoulders seem to loosen completely.
His hands rise just above him as black whorls of magic flow from his fingers. The magic traipses around him like a frightened child, trembling under the weight of his existence. Kim Dokja coaxes it towards him with a calming hand and a gentle hum and it comes slowly but eagerly. It engulfs him whole and lays dormant like an indiscernible veil. His brain becomes fuzzy. Empty, perhaps. The buzzing in his brain stretches long and thin until he only feels silent peace. Blissful silent peace.
It doesn't last very long.
An arrow whizzes past his head. He only lets himself feel the cool metal of the obsidian arrowhead graze the tip of his nose before he snaps back to awareness. Kim Dokja’s hands go to his waist only to find it empty. He’d forgotten his sword. Typical. Jung Heewon was going to give him the scolding of his life once he got back.
In short, Kim Dokja really should have expected this. What, with his notorious bad luck and his uncanny ability to attract every and all awful thing in the near (and far) vicinity? He may as well have had a big red X flying over his head that invited every single unfortunate circumstance in the world.
Another arrow flies towards Kim Dokja but he easily sidesteps(is it considered sidestepping if he's in the air?). The only reason the first arrow got to him was because of the bubble his magic created for him. He has his focus back now. He may not have his sword but he does have his skills.
The third arrow that comes towards him, he catches by hand. He studies it briefly whilst he flies behind a cloud for slight coverage. It’s a well-made weapon. The wood is of high quality and the craftsmanship was done by someone with obvious talent. He flips the arrow over, absently dodging another assault, and inspects the inscription. Kim Dokja traces a finger over the ingrained crest and marvels at the familiarity of it. He studied and memorized all of the symbols of each of the great nations at a young age. Where would he have encountered anyone bearing this insignia?
Speaking of symbols though…
Shit.
Kim Dokja glances down at his bare wrists and swears. The twin crosses on his skin shine ebony black, contrasting with his pale skin. They were the most recognizable thing on his body. Anyone would just have to look at them and discern who he was; the demon prince. He was supposed to ask Han Sooyoung to conceal them for him before they’d set off but he’d forgotten. Really, how much worse could his luck get?
An arrow lodges itself into his shoulder.
Point taken, then.
He scowls as he yanks the arrow out of his body, breaks it in half and hurls it in whatever direction it had come from. The pain in his shoulder flickers before smoothing over, as if someone had slathered it with balm.
Kim Dokja hears a thunk swallowed by a long and impressive string of curses and snorts to himself. He tucks the other arrow in his belt and stretches his arms.
“This has gone on for far too long,” he says to himself and sweeps down to the sound of his attackers.
His wings extend to their full length as he lands in front of his assailant. His assailant who turns out to be… children.
Beautiful. He’s allowed himself to be injured by little kids.
“Now, now,” Kim Dokja drawls, making his voice purposefully nonchalant. He steps closer to the both of them. A girl and a boy, probably no older than 18, were staring at him with expressions filled with a mixture of fear, bewilderment, and a tiny bit of awe. “Didn't your mother ever teach you not to attack people without a preamble?”
The boy nocks another arrow to his bow and stares at him sinisterly. The girl looks less evil but certainly not friendly. She narrows her eyes at him. “How the hell did you dodge those?”
Kim Dokja shrugs at them. “It's not as if they were shot with much skill.”
The boy beside her sputters and points an indignant finger at him. “What do you mean ‘much skill?!’ I'm the best archer in Kaizenix!” Kaizen, huh?
Kim Dokja knows what the crest of Kaizen looks like, knows it like the back of his hand, so he knows the insignia on the arrow is not from there. Interesting.
The boy continues, unperturbed, “And how are you still standing? All of you creatures are susceptible to ashwood!”
That makes Kim Dokja pause. He stares at the dozen identical arrows strapped to the boy's back. Ashwood? Well, he supposes that ashwood is poisonous to all creatures. So would mistletoe and silver. But he isn't ‘most’ creatures, is he?
No. He was born like this.
Cursed like this.
Kim Dokja feels his lips curl into a sneer as all the amusement bleeds out of his body. So that's what these kids were doing. Hunting demons. He’s not surprised. The hunting of his ‘kind’ has been going on for far longer than he’d ever wish to know.
A swirl of dark energy forms a cloud at his fist and as his anger rises, the mist grows. The kids both shout and scramble away from him. Kim Dokja feels a small prickle of dark satisfaction flow through him before he forcibly tamps it down. Anger would do him nothing here.
Kim Dokja clenches his fists, lets his nails dig into his palm and focuses on the fleeting pain until the last of his resentment vanishes from him. He turns his focus back to the kids who have taken several steps back from him.
The girl’s body is tense and she looks at him both calculatingly and fearfully. The boy picks up his fallen arrow from the ground and points it at him once more. There's a big red spot smack in the middle of his forehead. So that’s where the broken arrow had ended up.
He slaps on a fake, shiny smile and asks, “Were the both of you under the order of someone or did you act on your own?” He doesn't even know why he’s asking. It’s not as if he’s planning on doing anything to them. Killing them would probably cause more problems than it would solve them.
The girl immediately straightens her back and says, “No. We acted on our own.” It would have probably been a very convincing lie if Kim Dokja couldn't hear the way her heart was hammering in her chest.
Kim Dokja raises his eyebrows. “Oh, really? Because those stallions behind you hardly look like something two babies could afford.”
“Babies? Who the hell do you think you’re calling babies? You’re hardly even 5 years older than us!” It's the boy that’s speaking this time. Kim Dokja decides he doesn't like his voice very much.
“Namwoon!” the girl snaps and the boy—Namwoon—immediately falls silent. The girl turns back to him and says tightly, “We mistook you for someone else. I apologize for the inconvenience.” Namwoon scoffs from beside her. She elbows him in the gut. “We will be taking our leave now.”
Kim Dokja raises his eyebrows. “What, no compensation?”
If he has to walk away from being shot without killing anyone, he has to at least get some money out of it. Plus, they seem to have a couple extra coins lying around, if the quality of their clothes and weapons are to be judged.
“We don't have any money on us,” The boy says quickly.
Someone has certainly not been paying much attention to their lying skills. He can almost taste the fib.
“Then give me something else.”
“Something else? Like what?”
Kim Dokja pretends to think for a moment, a wry smile painted on his lips. He winds his hands behind his back and circles the both of them casually. He can see the stiffening of thor limbs, their spine pin straight as if bracing for a predator.
As he passes the girl, the rising sunlight glints on the silver hilt of the sword on her belt. Kim Dokja’s eyes gleam. “How about that pretty sword of yours?”
It’s an absurd request, he knows. A swordsman’s weapon is their most treasured item. And the young knights before him seem to serve a respectable army. To ask a person, especially one you’ve only met recently, for their weapon is unbearably rude and insulting. Kim Dokja doesn't have a lot of days where he's allowed to be unbearably rude and insulting. He decides to take a liberty today.
Kim Dokja watches as Namwoon’s face turns an alarming shade of purple and starts squawking at him. Kim Dokja tilts his head to the side with laughing eyes before turning to the girl. If the girl had looked irritated at first, she looked all but terrified now. All the blood had drained from her face and her lips quivered.
“Kim Namwoon.” Her voice is barely higher than a whisper but it makes the boy fall silent immediately. Kim Namwoon glances at her with barely concealed curiosity and a flare of anger(most likely directed at him) but she just keeps staring at him, her face still oddly aghast. Kim Namwoon refocusses on him and Kim Dokja watches the way his face falls. His mouth slackens from shock and Kim Dojka sees his shoulders tremble faintly.
Kim Dokja squints at them.
“You…” Kim Namwoon’s voice is more muted when he speaks, much different from his shouting earlier. “How are you d-doing that?”
Kim Dokja’s eyebrows shoot up. “I’m not exactly… doing anything?”
The girl reaches her hand up to cradle her head. “No, you’re definitely doing something.”
Kim Namwoon’s hands shake when he clasps it over his nose. His hand leaves it a second later and Kim Dokja watches as blood flows from his nose with faint bemusement. “How can one even radiate that much power?”
Ah.
Kim Dokja stares down at his hands and cringes internally.
He hadn’t even noticed.
Kim Dokja lets an amused chuckle snort out of him as he watches the two knights stare at him in horror. “Ah, sorry kids!” He raises his hands up in mock acquiescence and watches as the children flinch. He only feels slightly sorry. “I didn't mean to lose control like that! You’ll forgive me, won't you?”
It was true. He hadn't even noticed when the control of his concealment slipped. He is normally much better at concealing them when he’s in his human form. His control in his demon form is all over the place because of his senses so trying to confine all of his energy into just his body was much more difficult.
But their reception still vaguely puzzled him. He’d always known that he was a rare case. Being the only true-born demon was disconcerting to say the least. But his companions are around him all the time and they have never had such a visceral and immediate reaction to his powers before.
Was it because they were so used to his presence? Or had he grossly underestimated the influence of his power? Perhaps even both? He would have to theorise with Han Sooyoung later.
The distant crunching of snow draws Kim Dokja back from his thoughts just in time to hear the tail ends of Kim Namwoon’s muttering. “... I mean, how does someone just lose control like that?”
The pair of them were whispering to each other in hushed words and glancing to his side in a futile attempt at being inconspicuous. They were failing, but it still amused Kim Dokja greatly. He focused his attention on the sky above and pretended to contemplate the odd shapes of the clouds to give them the allusion of privacy.
“Your question should be about how one even gets that much power to lose control of anyway! Master’s presence always makes me feel woozy but it cannot even compare to what I felt from him!”
“I know! It felt like my insides were getting fried and my blood boiled. I nearly collapsed right in front of him! Do you know how embarrassing that would have been?”
“It’s not as if I was faring any better. How can a winged demon even solicitate that much energy? He must have committed grave sins while he was still human.”
Kim Dokja snorts and regards the pair of them again with a raised eyebrow. They straighten up immediately. It was no common secret how demons came forth. It was only people with deeply rooted sins and tainted hearts that could succumb to the transitioning into a demon after a ritual of self-sacrifice.
And for a winged demon, as Kim Namwoon had so nicely put it, it was even worse. Demons were mostly at the bottom of the ladder in terms of power compared to other creatures, but winged demons were the most powerful of demons. They are the most sinister. The people who transitioned to winged demons would have had to be the most evil of humans. Someone who had sinned every day of their lives and someone with no compassion or remorse whatsoever. The higher the transgressions, the higher the ranking of demon species.
This was what these two kids probably thought of him as well. Kim Dokja allowed himself to dwell on that thought for a moment longer and felt sourness swell his stomach. Then he breathed out and shook the awful feeling away from him. Such musings would do nothing for him here.
He gives the knights a blinding smile. “Are you two quite finished yet? Or do you need more time for your gossiping?”
They both flinch. Kim Dokja’s voice sharpens. “You are? Good!” He claps his hands together and takes a deliberate step forward. The knights move several steps back. “I was serious about my request, you know.”
There is a moment of confused silence before the girl speaks up, her voice a tad bit hesitant, “... Your request.”
Kim Dokja’s eyes cut towards her. “Yes. If I recall correctly, I asked for your sword.”
“I won't be able to do that.”
“Ah?” Kim Dokja raises both of his eyebrows as if greatly surprised. “Why not? I even asked politely!”
The swordswoman’s voice was clipped. “My sword is very valuable to me. It cannot be wielded by anyone apart from me.”
“Is that so?” Some of his amusement must filter into his voice because the boy glares at him. Quite ferociously at that. Kim Dokja feels his smile widen. “I’m sure I could handle it.”
“You would not,” Kim Namwoon says hotly, his eyes twitching in annoyance.
“Why don't I test it out for you?”
In between one moment and the next, he’s at the girl's side. He easily plucks the sword from where it's strapped on her weapon belt. He’s already back in front of the pair before either of them has even realised what has happened.
He twists the sword in his hands and vaguely registers the audible gasp heard from in front of him. It is a finely made sword; he was right about that. But there is something else about it, something he's been feeling ever since he descended onto its presence. He unsheathes the sword with one hand. There’s a pulse of energy flowing down the length of the sword. His eyes train on the faint blue light emanating from it. The sword has most definitely been enchanted. By a moderately skilled person as well.
As sensitive as he is to magic, he isn't fully able to parse out the exact spell put on the sword. It is a complicated array, something that he would need to consult Han Sooyoung to figure out for him. He swings it in his hand for a few seconds. It has a nice weight to it and the hilt is smooth. It is definitely the most suitable weapon to be used in close-distance combat. Kim Dokja briefly wonders if he would be able to ask his blacksmith, Gong Pildu, to make him an identical new hilt just by describing this one alone. He would have to make a sketch most likely. Jung Hewoon could probably help with that…
“Hey! What the hell are you doing?! How the hell did you even do that? What the hell even are you?!”
Kim Dokja blinks. He’d nearly forgotten that he wasn't alone.
“I told you I was going to take it,” he points out, his hands absentmindedly running up and down the body of the sword.
“You can't— you can't do that,” says the girl. Her voice is shaking. “Master he— you can't do that !”
A master, huh?
“Can't do what, exactly?” The girl’s eyes had been glued to her sword but at his voice, her gaze shot up. She looks vaguely hysterical. Kim Dokja continues speaking as if he hasn't seen anything. “Is your master the one who charmed your sword?”
“Yes! And you’re not supposed to be able to touch it! No one apart from me and Master are allowed to touch it! Which is why you can't do that!”
“But I can though…?”
“Exactly! Master’s going to kill me! He’s going to kill us !”
“...”
Kim Namwoon, who has been strangely silent this whole time, stares at him funnily. Kim Dokja noticed that he had unsheathed a pair of daggers from his weapon belt and was now squeezing it in a death grip. Kim Dokja rolls his eyes. Are they really going to attempt to fight him over a not-so-measly sword?
Kim Namwoon aims one of his daggers right at Kim Dokja’s head.
It seems as if they would then. How troublesome.
Kim Dokja opens his mouth to do— nothing really. He doesn't even know what he wants to say. Ask Kim Namwoon not to shoot him? Something tells Kim Dokja that the kid wouldn't even listen— when his ears pick up on the sound of an alarmingly fast-paced horse coming towards them.
Kim Dokja stares in the direction the sound is coming from. The area where his party had decided to rest for the night was called the ‘Unseen’ only because no one had the balls to settle down there even though the soil was fertile enough to earn a stable living and the temperature wasn’t as harsh here as it was in Kaizen. It was only so empty simply because it was in between Kaizen and The Underworld. Two great countries that have gone to war against each other five times in the last three centuries over things as little as an offensively made dish or a heartfelt letter ignored. It was a depressingly barren land.
The fact that he ‘ran’ into these kids here, of all places at all is surprising enough.
An arrow whizzes past his ear as soon as he finishes his line of thought. He turns back to glare at Kim Namwoon.
“That was the second time! Can you stop doing that?!” He places his hands on his hips and speaks to Kim Namwoon as if he’s a particularly unruly child. He practically feels the resentment in the air triple in quantity. “I’ve already told you you're rude. Have you really not learned your lesson yet?”
Lee Jihye, who had been looking around their surroundings frantically, snaps back to the situation at hand and alternates glaring at the two of them. “What is wrong with you?!”
“Are you speaking to him or me?” Kim Dokja and Kim Namwoon speak at the same time. Kim Namwoon glares at him. Kim Dokja winks back.
“Him of course!” She still doesn't specify who she refers to.
“Hey, are the two of you expecting anyone?” Kim Dokja asks. He’s been vaguely aware that the horse has become exceptionally closer distance-wise.
Lee Jihye’s anger is immediately blanched into fear. Kim Namwoon nearly drops his bow.
“Wh- why do you ask?”
Just as Kim Namwoon spoke, a sharp gust of wind breezed through the three of them. With it brought the very loud and very unavoidable sound of approaching hoove steps.
Both Lee Jihye and Kim Namwoon instinctively take 2 steps closer towards him. Kim Dokja snorts softly under his breath. Barely 5 minutes ago they were ready to take his head off. Now they look to him for 'protection' against their master. It was really quite hilarious.
Kim Dokja looked up just as a horse came into his view from a distance away. The horse was an ebony black, its mane glinting under the still-emerging sun. It moved as if it had gone through a multitude of wars yet still had an air of… something to it. It wasn't exactly grace nor was it elegance. It was ineffable; beautiful and sturdy yet indescribable, at least for him.
All in all, it was a wonderfully bred stallion, obviously owned by a person of great importance and wealth. Kim Dokja felt a strum of anticipation pulse down his spine.
If the person mounting the horse could cause such primal fear to such skilled combatants… He must truly be exciting!
"Aiya! Children, what's with all the panicky faces? Isn't that your master over there?" Kim Dokja purposefully spoke in a boisterous tone and pointed exaggeratedly. He started waving his hand.
The man on the horse wore a black veil, leaving only his eyes visible to Kim Dokja. Despite this, Dokja feels as if the freezing temperature dropped by another 10 degrees just because of this stranger’s presence. Lee Jihye seemingly forgets herself and hits him on the arm.
"Why are you so loud?! Don't you know he's going to kill all of us?!"
Kim Dokja tilted his head to the side with a saccharine smile. "Why would he kill me? I didn't do anything to him?"
"Of course, he's going to kill you, you fucking winged frea-"
"Kim Namwoon!"
"What?" Kim Namwoon sneers at him. Kim Dokja grins. "He's the reason we're in this mess in the first place! If he hadn't grabbed your stupid sword, Master wouldn't be on his way to skin all of us alive!"
Kim Dokja huffs a breath, fake petulance lacing his words. "And how exactly is this my fault? Would you care to remind me who attacked first? It wasn't me."
"Hey, Ajhussi," Lee Jihye sticks a finger in his face, nearly poking his eye out. When the hell did they get so close? "That idiot is correct, you know. If you hadn't grabbed my sword none of us would be in this shitty situ-"
"Lee Jihye."
It was almost comical how quickly the both of them froze. Though Kim Dokja had been absently keeping track of how close this mystery man had been distance-wise, he's still momentarily struck by the pure frost embedded in his voice. How could someone even sound that cold? His voice could have rivalled the weather itself.
Objectively speaking, it was a great voice, all deep and monotonous. It boomed throughout the little group they had found themselves in and the tension that was already building tripled in an instant. Kim Dokja feels a spike of heat curl in the pit of his stomach. He isn't sure exactly what emotion he's feeling.
There is a moment of utter silence as soon as the man's presence becomes known. Lee Jihye squares her shoulders and tenses her jaw. She gropes at her waist for a second— looking for her sword, presumably— before her eyes harden even further when she remembers it is still in Kim Dokja’s hands. Kim Dokja nearly feels sorry for her. Nearly.
They both bow stiffly. Kim Namwoon’s hands are kept clenched behind his back.
“Master,” Lee Jihe says, looking up. Kim Namwoon keeps his head bowed, either out of deference, fear, or both. “We were not expecting your company this afternoon. Forgive us for not being adequately prepared.”
“You are not at fault,” says the stranger. His voice is still impossibly hard. The beauty of it was nearly lost. “It seems as though I was… summoned.”
Both Kim Namwoon and Lee Jihye flinch but Kim Dokja doesn't have any space in his mind to feel guilty. No, he doesn't have any space in his mind to feel anything. At all.
Kim Dokja had looked up at the man when he spoke the second time. He had just meant for it to be one measly glance, to see whether or not he would need to memorise his face for later. The man has taken off his veil now. Kim Dokja thinks it may have been a mistake to look now. Kim Dokja thinks he may never want to look away ever again.
The words he had thought before, the one about the beauty of the man’s voice being lost, he takes it back. A hundred times he takes it back. All the beauty in the world had obviously been sown into just this man's physique alone. His face, Kim Dokja barely even had the words to fathom it, let alone describe it. Strongly carved eyebrows; a magnificently shaped chin; full lips that were downturned in the most severe of ways and eyes. Glacial, narrowed beautiful eyes that looked like twin bottomless pits. They scrutinised him impassively. Has Kim Dokja mentioned they were beautiful already? It feels as though he had to think it twice, not because his eyes were limited to only beauty, no, but because it was the only word Kim Dokja’s malfunctioning brain had any capability of producing.
Perhaps at a later time, when Kim Dokja is feeling particularly poetic, he would describe them as indissoluble. They only looked at him with one intensity at a time so from a perspective, they seemed unbreakable. Continuous, even.
Just as he snaps out of his brief daze, he realises he is being assessed as well. Most likely in a less horny way.
A sword tip is placed just above his Adam's apple, the pressure nearly hard enough to draw blood. Definitely in a less horny way.
"You,” the man says, his voice cutting glass. It takes a second for Kim Dokja to realise he’s addressing him. "Who are you?"
Kim Dokja blinks several times. It feels as if his entire brain has been tipped sideways. It tries, fruitlessly, to jumble out stings of sentences in answer to his question, but they’re all half-finished and nonsensical.
The sword presses deeper into his neck and a line of blood flows down the knob on his throat and seepes into his overcoat. A stain of crimson against the white collar; his seamstress will surely have a good scolding for him.
"You won't answer me." The man asks (or demands. He structured questions as if they were statements. It was very confusing). The man's gaze trailed down to his hands and a vicious sneer curled its way onto his lips. "Unhand my liege's sword right this moment," he said, voice as rigid and as beautiful as diamonds.
Kim Dokja forces himself out of his daze and manages to give the man a sly smile. "And if I don't?"
There is a sharp inhale of breath from right beside him just as sharp fingers dig into his ribs. Kim Dokja ignores this and continues smiling.
Kim Dokja had thought that the only emotion this man was capable of showing was cold indifference but now there is anger. Burning hot anger that seems to only be directed at him. "Then you will die here, demon." His voice dripped with certainty. It made Kim Dokja’s grin spread even wider.
"Is that so?" His voice sounds deeper to his ears. Sultry, even. He lolls his head to the side and stretches his arms. "That's quite unfortunate, isn't it? I wasn't exactly planning on dying today."
The two children turned to Kim Dokja to give him identical wide-eyed stares. Kim Dokja raises an eyebrow, slightly amused and slightly annoyed. It was as if they were certain he would die at this very moment.
Which was… understandable. Their master looked very strong. But Kim Dokja was strong too! Mother always praised him for being the best swordsman in the capital.
The man snorts but when Kim Dokja glances back at his face, not a hint of humour is present. “You are cocky,” he says. He sounds… not amused, certainly, but less murderous than he did before. "I’ve never met a demon as arrogant as you before.”
Kim Dokja blinks in surprise. “Are you sure?”
There is a reason why Kim Dokja doesn't like being in the presence of other demons. Apart from them being extremely wicked beings, they are also ridiculously haughty. It is unbearable to be in the presence of supercilious assholes who have no sense of humility whatsoever.
“Yes,” the man says. “They don't have the opportunity to be arrogant.”
Kim Dokja’s eyebrow furrow. “What does that mean? What would they be doing?”
For the first time since their short conversation started, Kim Dokja sees a hint of sharp amusement flit over the man’s face as he says, in the most cynically barren tone, “They would be begging.”
It is at that moment that Kim Dokja realises just who exactly he is talking to. He glances, again, at the arrows on the Kim Namwoon's's back. Specifically, the familiar-not-familiar insignia on it. There's only one person in Kaizen who's crest is dissimilar to that of the rest of the country, and for good reason.
Yoo Joonghyuk.
The Supreme King.
The most skilled militant on the entire continent.
Not only was he the youngest person to become the Chief General of the imperial army of Kaizen in the last 600 years, but he was also notoriously known as the ‘beast hunter’.
The most successful creature hunter to be exact.
And Kim Dokja, unlucky and unfortunate Kim Dokja, was a demon. A creature. A beast, if one was feeling creative.
It's not hard to see where the issue begins.
Kim Dokja knows that he isn’t like other demons or even other creatures. He knows that he was born this way and weapons that would normally hurt other demons wouldn't damage a hair on his skin but that doesn't stop the way every last drop of blood solidifies into tiny iceblocks in his body.
He’s heard of Yoo Joognhyuk. Hell, everyone’s heard of Yoo Joonghyuk. Uriel writes about him at least twice a week. The Supreme King. The only person with the title, ‘king’, that wasn't ever a king.
Jung Heewon is going to kill him.
Kim Dokja shakes his head slightly. Jung Heewon would just have to understand. For now, he just had to figure out exactly how he was to escape this situation without anyone A.)Dying or B.)Encapsulated.
It may have seemed easy in theory but in practice…
Jung Heewon is most definitely going to be killing him.
“Ah,” Kim Dokja says in his most blandest of tones. He gives Yoo Joonghyuk a dazzling grin and subtly attempts to start backing away from him. “Well, it was lovely meeting you and your…. students, but I'm afraid I’m urgently needed elsewhere so if it was possible for us to end this early on, that would be absolutely perf—”
“Wait.”
Kim Dokja winces internally but still manages to keep his smile in place. “Yes?”
The man is not fooled nor is he impressed. He holds out his hand. “Give me the sword.”
The sword? Kim Dokja looks down at himself and realises he still has Lee Jihye’s sword in his hands. He all but shoves it into Yoo Joonghyuk’s open palm. “Well if that’s all I really have to-”
“You’re not going anywhere.”
“Hm?” Kim Dokja really might cry. How he wishes he could just cry for the rest of eternity.
Yoo Joonghyuk speaks while handing the sword back to the quiet Lee Jihye. “You must have already realised who I am.”
There are two options that Kim Dokja has right now. Either to say, ‘Yes, I do know who you are but I’m afraid you killing me or torturing me or whatever the hell brutes like you do to demons won't be possible as I am truly, excruciatingly busy and not in the mood for anything incriminating.’ or he can decide to play dumb and test out his horrible, horrible acting skills.
He decides to take the better, safer option. Which is, of course, to play dumb. “Who you are? I’m aware of no such thing. It’s extremely rich of you to think I have even an inkling of whoever you are. Don’t you think a bit too highly of yourself…” he trails off with a highly unnatural laugh and silently asks his mother, in his head, why on earth she had allowed him to drop his acting lessons at such a young age.
Yoo Joonghyuk does nothing but raise a beautifully shaped eyebrow. The bastard’s countenance doesn't so much as move an inch but he still manages to look extremely mocking.
“You know I cannot let you go.”
Kim Dokja runs a frustrated hand through his hair. His teeth bare when he asks, “And why exactly is that?” as if he doesn't already know the answer
Yoo Joonghyuk narrows his eyes. “You know why.”
“It’s get’s quite irritating after a bit, you know,” Kim Dokja says slowly. “That thing you do when you assume everyone knows everything that you know.”
“Malum. You must be detained. It is law.”
And just like that, Kim Dokja’s blood burns in molten anger. It nips at his skin and rolls throughout his body in waves. “There is no such law.”
Yoo Joonghyuk's hands grip his sword tighter. “There is in Kaizen.”
“Not in the Underworld.” He hardly even recognises his voice with how tight it sounds.
“Is that your origin?”
Kim Dokja gives himself a moment to take a breath and the rage that clouds his eyes lessen. His anger is still there, of course, simmering under his skin like a maddened animal, just waiting for its moment to attack. “No,” he says calmly.
“No,” Yoo Joonghyuk repeats or asks. It’s hard to decipher. His face starts showing a bit of irritation. “Lying to me isn’t very wise.”
“Ah, but isn’t it?” Kim Doja tries for levity but his voice sounds flat even to his ears. He glances at the sky. The sun has fully made its presence. His companions are going to start getting more concerned the longer he stays here.
He turns back to Yoo Joonghyuk and stares him straight in the eye. “See, I’m sure this has been very fun for all of us,” he lies. This has to be the worst interaction he’s ever had in his life. The expressions on Lee Jihye and Kim Namwoon’s faces seem to say the same. Yoo Joonghyuk’s face is as impassive as ever. “But you must forgive me for my impertinence, Supreme King. I must take my leave.” He takes a large step away from Yoo Joonghyuk’s sword and starts stretching his wings.
Kim Dokja was unrealistically hoping that if he flew fast enough he would be able to get out of here without fighting anybody. Read: unrealistically.
“You don't seem to listen very well.” Yoo Joonghyuk swings his weapon at Kim Dokja in an unsurprisingly impressive display of swordplay and takes menacing steps closer towards him. “You are not allowed to leave.”
Kim Dokja smiles at him, brief and jarring. “I don't want to hurt you, Joonghyuk-ssi.”
Yoo Joonghyuk scoffs at him. He stretches his arm and readjusts his grip on his sword. “You won't.”
He swings his sword.
Kim Dokja grits his teeth.
Chaos erupts.
The fight has been going on for exactly ten minutes. Kim Dokja would know; he's been counting. Yoo Joonghyuk’s breath has long since become laboured. A drop of sweat drips down his forehead despite the cold. His eyes shake with overexertion but the grip he has on his sword remains as steady as ever
Kim Dokja takes his time to look at him during the brief pause of their fighting. He’s impressed, he truly is; no human has ever lasted this long against him. No even Hades, who Kim Dokja is certain is the strongest man he’ll ever know.
But even with this accomplishment, Yoo Joonghyuk is still very much on the disadvantaged side. At some point during their fight, Kim Dokja swapped out from using his powers to physical combat to even the playing field a little bit and give Yoo Joonghyuk a bit of an upper hand. It doesn’t seem to be working very well. Or at all.
“Ho… How the hell are you so strong?!” cries Lee Jihye. She is lying on the ground, clutching a broken ankle. Kim Dokja winces. He hadn’t meant to hurt her. But the two children had jumped into the fight the second they saw their master edging towards the losing side. He didn't have enough time to pull back his strength in time when he shoved her backwards.
Kim Namwoon, however, was surprisingly still standing. Like literally just… standing. He had a grimace on his face and his eyes were alternating between the fallen Lee Jihye and the exerted Yoo Joonghyuk.
“Take her away from here, Kim Namwoon,” says Yoo Joonghyuk, his voice coloured with indignation. Kim Dokja looks back at him with a raised eyebrow. What right does he have to be mad? Kim Dokja already warned him.
“Ah?” Kim Namwoon asks. He looks between the two of them, shrugs, and takes off running to their horses, barely stopping in time to haul Lee Jihye over his shoulder. “Good luck, master! Please don't die!” he says haphazardly over his shoulder and then they’re off, their horses' hoove steps trampling ominously on the snow.
Kim Dokja heaves a heavy sigh and turns back to his adversary. He waves his hand. “Do you mind if we cut this short?” Kim Dokja had tried suggesting this multiple times during this short fight but each and every time Yoo Joonghyuk would just huff, scowl, and flare his nose angrily. He'd look rather like a petulant child rather than a warrior but then he would hack his sword menacingly at Kim Dokja’s head and then Kim Dokja would forget about the child comment entirely.
Alas, this time was not any different. Yoo Joonghyuk scowls, again. “What?”
Kim Dokja rolls his eyes and stretches his arms. He raises his bloody knuckles and laughs. At first glance, the fight would have seemed quite unbalanced. Yoo Joonghyuk had his sword; Kim Dokja had his enthusiasm. But Yoo Joonghyuk steel glided off Kim Dokja’s body like water, barely even breaking skin, so Yoo Joonghyuk soon abandoned his sword and resorted to very well-coordinated punches and much less coordinated kicks. Even though Kim Dokja isn’t using his powers he is still very much impressed. Not a lot of people stood a chance against him, powers or no powers.
But then again, this was the supreme king. It is hardly to be unexpected.
The winter sun warmed Kim Dokja’s face and reminded him just how much time he had spent dawdling with the supreme king of all people. Really, what the hell was his life?
Yoo Joonghyuk charges at him once more. Kim Dokja groans and steps out of the way just in time to narrowly avoid getting decked in the neck.
Yoo Joonghyuk looks so angry and he— honest to god— snarls at him like a beast.
If you’re so pissed off, Kim Dokja thinks helplessly, then just end it! You’re miserable, I’m miserable. Just end it!
Yoo Joonghyuk takes a couple of steps back from him and Kim Dokja has a second to think, wow, did he hear my thoughts? Is he going to stop acting like an animal and leave me the hell alone? Before Yoo Joonghyuk runs at him once more
Yoo Joonghyuk jumps but mid-way through his leap, he flips his body sideways. He’s trying to headlock Kim Dokja to the ground, but he has his angle wrong. The distance between them is too short. If he does this, he’ll end up with a broken neck. Kim Dokja panics and his arms reach out instinctively. One of his hands curl around his waist and the other one cradles the back of Yoo Joonghyuk’s neck.
The force of the jump sends them both tumbling to the ground with Yoo Joonghyuk on top of Kim Dokja, his back to the other’s chest. The breath is knocked out of him completely and he wheezes in pain. His shin then hits a particularly spiky icicle in the snow and he groans. Why must all bad things happen today of all days?!
“Let. Go,” a voice gruffs out from above him. The body on top of his starts wriggling aggressively.
“Do you promise you’re not going to try and kill me?”
The voice stays silent. The wriggling gets even more aggressive.
“Then we stay like this then.” His arm twists even tighter on Yoo Joonghyuk’s waist. His grip is like iron, he knows. Yoo Joonghyuk wouldn't be able to escape from his arms even if he tried for centuries.
Yoo Joonghyuk’s ebony black hair gets in his mouth and Kim Dokja sputters quite embarrassingly when he tries to open his mouth.
Despite his heavy layers, Yoo Joonghyuk’s body burns as hot as a furnace. Kim Dokja feels his face warm unexpectedly, and then he imagines Yoo Joonghyuk’s body as a different kind of furnace and his face heats up for an entirely different reason. Kim Dokja silently thanks God that Yoo Joonghyuk’s face is turned away from him even as he inhales his third batch of hair.
Kim Dokja relaxes his head against the freezing snow and clears his throat. Maybe if he gives Yoo Joonghyuk a speech on the disadvantages of killing demons, he’ll leave Kim Dokja alone. He opens his mouth but all that comes out is, “You… um… so the supreme king?”
Yoo Joonghyuk stops moving for half a second but remains completely silent.
Kim Dokja instantly wants to bash his head against a brick wall. The silence stretches on for so long that Kim Dokja starts counting the number of clouds in the sky before Yoo Joonghyuk finally speaks.
“What is your motive?”
Kim Dokja startles. “My motive?”
“Why are you doing this?”
This? What the hell is he doing exactly? Kim Dokja wasn't the one who decided to start fighting random people before the sun had even fully risen!
“I don't think I’m the one doing anything, Supreme King,” he says sarcastically. He feels sharp nails pinch his arms.
It doesn't hurt obviously but Kim Dokja still grunts. “Ah, stop that!” He removes the hand that’s holding Yoo Joonghyuk’s neck to rub at the arm he has around his waist. Belatedly, he realises that he’s now fully hugging Yoo Joonghyuk’s body from behind.
“Answer the question.” Yoo Joonghyuk’s voice sounds different. Rougher, perhaps.
“I can't answer it if I don't understand.” Kim Dokja says, not at all mockingly. Yoo Joonghyuk pinches his arm again. Okay, maybe a little mockingly. Kim Dokja laughs. He says slowly, “Explain your words properly, Yoo Joonghyuk.”
“You could have let me die.” Kim Dokja raises his eyebrow in confusion before it clicks. The move Yoo Joonghyuk attempted was a potentially fatal one. Kim Dokja nods before getting confused again.
“Why would I have let you die?”
Yoo Joonghyuk remains quiet for a few seconds. Then: “I would have let you die.” He says it rather perplexedly.
Kim Dokja snorts then pokes Yoo Joonghyuk in the stomach. Yoo Joonghyuk tenses immediately. Then when he realises it’s only his finger and not any hidden weapon, his body relaxes, if only marginally. “I'm not you am I?”
“I was going to… kill you. If I took you back.”
“I thought you were just going to detain me.”
“You would have still died,” He says bluntly. Kim Dokja finds himself amused again somehow.
“That’s not very nice of you, Joonghyuk-ah,” Kim Dokja says slowly, Yoo Joonghyuk inhales sharply and Kim Dokja bites back a laugh. “Don't people always praise you for righteousness?”
“People praise me for anything they feel like praising me for. I’ve never said I was righteous before.”
Kim Dokja nearly chokes on his laughter. “Are you calling your fans liars, Yoo Joonghyuk? Do you know how devastated they would be if they heard this?”
Yoo Joonghyuk huffs a breath that sounds very similar to a laugh but that can't be true. Kim Dokja couldn’t have made the supreme king laugh. It was impossible.
Kim Dokja so desperately wishes he could see his face right now.
“You still haven't answered my question.”
“Ah? This again?” Kim Dokja exhales through his nose and adjusts his grip around Yoo Joonghyuk’s waist. “I have no reason to want you dead, Yoo Joonghyuk.”
“You have plenty of reasons to want me dead.”
“Is that so? List them for me?”
“I hunt your kind—”
“That’s not really a valid reason.”
Yoo Joonghyuk sounds as if he’s walking on a thin line of patience. “How is that not a reason,” he asks(demands?).
“All demons are horrible people,” Kim Dokja says simply. It was true— at least all of the demons Kim Dokja knew were horrible people.
“You’re not a horrible person.”
Huh.
“Was that a compliment?”
The response comes as fast as lightning. “No.”
Kim Dokja grins, even as a flush raises high against his cheeks. “That was a compliment,” He sings. “What’s this, are you getting soft on me already, Joonghyuk-ie? And here I was thinking I was going to have to lay on my charm a bit more…”
“Don't be stupid. I would never compliment you,” Yoo Joonghyuk snaps. It makes Kim Dokja's smile stretch even wider.
“But you did.”
“It was a slip of tongue.”
Kim Dokja starts laughing uncontrollably, just to be a piece of shit. “Even so. Do you even know how legendary this is for me? The Supreme King just complimented little ol’ me. No one’s going to believe me. This is the best day of my life.”
Yoo Joonghyuk ignores him completely and opts to seethe silently.
There are tears in his eyes once he’s done being dramatic but Kim Dokja can't exactly reach out to wipe them away so he resigns himself to being a little blurry-eyed. There’s silence between them, certainly not companionable silence but more contemplative.
“My students shot at you. On my order,” Yoo Joonghyuk says randomly.
Kim Dokja blinks then remembers what they were talking about before and rolls his eyes. “So?”
“How do you— never mind.”
Kim Dokja sighs. “You’re so dramatic.”
The pointed silence that Yoo Joonghyuk leaves seems to say, me? The dramatic one?
Kim Dokja opens his mouth to spill more bullshit when he feels the thin silver circlet he keeps around his ankle begins to grow hot. “Shit,” he mumbles.
“What,” says Yoo Joonghyuk and Kim Dokja absently pats his hip.
The circlet was a gift from Han Sooyoung when he turned 18. Han Sooyoung has a similar one wrapped around her waist. Whenever they were in trouble, all they had to do was activate it with a bit of magic and it’ll start heating up until the feeling got unbearable. It wasn’t exactly practical in extremely dangerous situations since the magic had to be transferred via touch, but it was very useful when they were trying to piss each other off. If Han Sooyoung was using it now, then the party had to be extremely worried for him.
“If I let you go, can you promise me that we can go our separate ways? That means you can't attack me or like follow me or whatever.”
“Why the change?” Yoo Joonghyuk asks with a hint of… disappointment? How weird.
“I’ve told you multiple times that I don't have much time here,” Kim Dokja reminds him.
“Are you in any trouble?” Yoo Joonghyuk now sounds vaguely concerned. Kim Dokja is getting slightly confused here. Why would he be concerned? Or disappointed?
“No, none of that. My companions are getting worried. I need to leave urgently,” he says quickly. “So, promise me? Pretty please?”
Yoo Joonghyuk remains silent long enough that Kim Dokja starts getting legitimately worried that he’s going to have to stay here for the rest of the day hugging Yoo Joonghyuk in the snow in the middle of nowhere (it's not exactly a bad way to spend his day but still).
Then, he says neutrally, “Fine. Let go of me.”
Kim Dokja releases his hold on Yoo Joonghyuk and he immediately shoots up. He turns towards Kim Dokja and stares down at him. The sun obscures his face for a moment so Kim Dokja has to squint to see him clearly and when he does, his breath hitches.
Yoo Joonghyuk looks at him intensely, an indescribable expression on his face. His breathing comes out slightly laboured, Kim Dokja notes with the small part of his mind that isn't screaming incoherently at him. Why would he be breathing heavily? Kim Dokja’s brain asks stupidly.
Yoo Joonghyuk stares at him, as hauntingly beautiful as always and Kim Dokja is dumbstruck
Yoo Joonghyuk extends an arm towards him and Kim Dokja’s gaze flicks towards it before focusing back on his face. Yoo Joonghyuk tilts his head slightly to the side before his lips twitch. It was only for a millisecond but Kim Dokja could have sworn that it looked like a smile.
Kim Dokja shakes himself out of whatever stupor he’s in and grins brightly at Yoo Joonghyuk. He grabs the offered arm and Yoo Joonghyuk hauls him up.
Kim Dokja understates exactly how long his legs have been asleep but when he stumbles, Yoo Joonghyuk’s hand is on his waist, steadying him. All of Kim Dokja’s senses zero in on the palms searing imprints on his body and his brain temporarily short circuits once again.
Yoo Joonghyuk has a couple of centimetres of height on him so Kim Doka has to crane his neck slightly to look at him and when he does, Yoo Joonghyuk looks right back down at him, gaze as potent as always.
Kim Dokja blinks and clears his throat. He steps back and Yoo Joonghyuk’s hand falls away. Kim Dokja forces himself not to mourn the loss of contact. “Um… I guess this is it? I would say it was nice meeting you but that isn’t exactly true so… Goodbye?” He says it as if he’s asking a question. Why does he say it as if he’s asking a question? He needs to leave obviously. He needs to.
He’s about to turn around to do just that when a hand takes his wrist. Yoo Joonghyuk's hands are calloused and tanned, with a ridiculous number of cuts on every one of his fingers. His hands are beautiful. Kim Dokja is starting to believe every part of Yoo Joonghyuk is beautiful.
“Name,” Yoo Joonghyuk grunts out.
Kim Dokja tears his eyes away from their joint hands and tries to ignore how nice the pressure around his wrist feels. “???,” Kim Dokja manages to sound out.
“What is your name.” He says the four words as if they have been forced out of his throat.
“My name?” Kim Dokja searches in his mind for something. Obviously, he can't give him his real name. He isn't that stupid. He thinks for a bit more before finding something.
“Guwon. My name is Guwon.”
“Salvation,” Yoo Joonghyuk says. He looks him up and down. Kim Dokja tries not to preen too obviously. “It suits you.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Nothing.” Yoo Joonghyuk lets go of his wrist. Kim Dokja feels as if he can breathe again. Yoo Joonghyuk lets out a short whistle and his horse comes trotting towards them. He mounts his horse and looks down at Kim Dokja. He seems to hesitate.
“Will I see you again?”
Kim Dokja’s eyes widen in surprise. “I would have assumed you would never want to see me again.” he can't quite keep the shock out of his tone but honestly, who can blame him?
Yoo Joonghyuk scoffs. “Of course I don't.”
“Then why ask?”
Yoo Joonghyuk doesn't answer. Instead, he gives a shallow, half-assed bow and starts leading his horse away.
Kim Dokja calls out to him. “What, no goodbye? That’s terribly rude of you, Joonghyuk-ah.”
Yoo Joonghyuk ignores him.
Kim Dokja grins briefly and watches his horse widen the distance between the two of them until Yoo Joonghyuk is no more than a dark speck amidst the white snow.
Kim Dokja laughs in one second and takes to the skies in the next.
Hopefully, he would be able to make it out of Jung Heewon’s scolding alive today.
Kim Dokja doesn't know what he’s expecting.
At a distance away from the cave where he and his party are staying, he sees Jung Heewon pacing, his sword in a vice-like grip in her hands. That makes him pause. In fear or in worry, he isn’t sure.
He contemplates just staying where he is and watching her when Jung Heewon looks up and her gaze lands squarely on him. He closes his eyes and curses.
When he opens them, she’s still standing there, her face pinched with anger, worry, and more anger and he knows that if he spends any more time staring at her, she’ll find a way to grow wings just to beat his ass mid-air.
He flies very slowly down towards her and lands a minimum of 15 metres away from her. She doesn't move an inch. She just stares at him, her emotions like a set of waterfalls cascading down her face. Kim Dokja feels his heart drop in regret. He didn't mean to worry her like this.
Kim Dokja walks towards her, his steps getting more and more subdued the closer he gets.
Jung Heewon stares at him silently for the first few seconds he stands in front of her. Then she goes into a deep bow, her hands pinned straight by her sides and her head cowed in deference.
“Heewon-ah.”
“Your Highness.” Her voice is stoic. Neutral. Emotionless.
“I’m sorry.”
“You have no reason to apologise to me, your highness.” Her head is still bowed. She’s refusing to look at him.
“Please, Jung Heewon.” His hand rests on her shoulder. She still doesn't move an inch so he drops his hand, takes a step back, and carefully goes down to his knees.
He bows his head and says quietly, “I'm sorry for worrying you.”
Jung Heewon remains silent for so long that he thinks she’s left him alone in the snow when she says, “It’s not just me you have to apologise to, your highness.” She sounds irritated. Kim Dokja feels his lips twitch. He much prefers her anger to her cold civility.
“I know,” he says. Then: “Please stop with the title thing. It’s making me nervous.”
Jung Heewon laughs, an abrupt and loud sound that makes Kim Dokja's heart just get a little fonder.“That’s why I'm doing it. Dumbass.”
Kim Dokja looks up at her with a smile. “Does that mean I’m forgiven now?”
She rolls her eyes at him and then hauls him upright by his shoulders. She pretends to dust invisible dust from his lapels but Kim Dokja knows she’s just looking for any long-lasting injuries. “Not until you tell me how exactly you managed to get that blood on your hands,” she says snappily. Then she turns around and walks back into the cave with a, "Hurry up you idiot" thrown over her shoulder.
Kim Dokja smiles at her, all warm and fond, and follows her to meet the rest of their companions.
The kids are a bit teary-eyed and pissed off(at Yoo Joonghyuk, not him, Thank god), Lee Hyunsung actually does cry a bit because he’s mad that he wasn't there to protect him(which, also thank god, Yoo Joonghyuk may have been a fairly easy match for him but Hyunsung would have immediately been wiped out with just two of Yoo Joonghyuk’s punches), Han Sooyoung doesn't believe a single word he says(“You? The supreme king? Tarturus must have surely frozen over” she says laughing, quite boisterously for someone whose eyes certainly don't seem as dry as she says they are when she gives him a nasty punch in the arm in welcome of him being alive. That's the only reason he’s not strangling her currently, actually.)
Jung Heewon calls him an idiot about 200 times both during and when he’s done explaining the whole story to them (obviously not all of it. He’s trying to get through today with his eardrums still intact thank you very much) and only allows him to actually move around normally once she’s checked his body over for any external, internal, or psychological injuries (which, really, that doesn't even make any sense).
All in all, Kim Dokja is under the attention from being under the influence of his companion's flowing and unwavering care and concern so if a tear or two slips out from his eyes no one can really blame him.
“We still set to ride tomorrow?” he asks Hyunsung once the kids let him hear anything apart from their bickerings right next to his ear.
“If there aren't any discrepancies, yes,” Han Sooyoung answers, eyeing him warily. He sticks his tongue out at her just to watch her snort.
“I promise there will absolutely be no more discrepancies or whatever,” he says reassuringly. Jung Heewon slaps him under the head. Okay maybe not that reassuringly, but reassuringly all the same.
“You’re certain?” Jung Heewon asks. Kim Dokja grins at her. She glares back, but there's no heat in it, just annoyed exasperation and a little bit of fondness, if Kim Dokja is really looking.
“Of course I'm certain,” he says easily. He runs his hand through Lee Gilyoung’s hair and wipes soot from Shin Yoosung's face. His face feels numb from the cold but his smile is genuine when he says, “Where else would I ever want to be if not with you guys?”
The problem, Yoo Joonghyuk decides when he finally dismounts from his horse in front of his estate, were his emotions. He rushed into a fight with a demon when he hadn’t even assessed their abilities clearly because he was angry; he had tried attacking said demon with a move that would have surely killed him had the situation turned out differently also because he was angry; he didn't ensure the safety of both Lee Jihye and Kim Namwoon as he should have the second he arrived at the Unseen because he was prideful and spiteful; he allowed himself to be… cuddled by someone that could have been an extremely dangerous threat— is a dangerous threat, Yoo Joonghyuk vehemently reminds himself— because he was…. infatuated? Dumbstruck? Clearly knacked in the head? He doesn't even have the words to describe the pure stupidity that was going through his mind during that very odd encounter.
Yoo Joongyuk leads his horse to the stables and hands it to the stableboy for tending before directing his legs to the infirmary. He stops at the door once he gets there and stares into the room from the clear door.
Lee Jihye lays on the bed while Lee Seolwha stands over her, crouched over her ankle. Kim Namwoon stands beside her, his face twitching in worry. Yoo Joonghyuk watches, quietly, as Lee Seolwha places balm on her injured leg and Lee Jihye’s face contorts in pain.
There’s shame in Yoo Joonghyuk’s guts, mingling in between misplaced anger and cursing guilt. He could have prevented Lee Jihye’s injury if he hadn't been so impulsive in his decisions. This is his fault.
“Your grace.”
Yoo Joonghyuk startles and looks to his side. Yoo Sangah stands by his side with her hair pulled back so he can clearly see her expression. She looks amiable but Yoo Joongyuk finds himself grimacing either way.
“We should enter,” she says. Her voice is light, but something in it has Yoo Joonghyuk flinching, if only slightly. “It would do us no good to stand here and self-destruct.”
With that, she pushes open the door of the infirmary and drags him inside by his arm. The reaction is instant. Kim Namwoon and Lee Jihye immediately straighten up, even with the latter still lying on the bed. Lee Seolwha rises up slightly to give him a brief smile and a nod before returning back to her work.
Yoo Joonghyuk waves his students off just as Yoo Sangah sits him, quite aggressively, on one of the beds. “Are you injured?” she asks. She’s already begun cutting his coat open.
“No.”
“I don’t believe you.”
Yoo Joonghyuk scoffs. “Of course you don't. Check all you want.”
Yoo Sangah glares at him in that way of hers that seems entirely polite but still gives the same effect as someone shoving knives in front of one’s eyes and starts her very thorough and very useless check-up on him.
Yoo Jonghyuk was surprised when he was riding back to the teleportation port after he and Guwon had departed. Apart from soreness he'll most definitely suffer through, he doesn't have any injuries. Guwon was strong, possibly the strongest demon he'd ever encountered, but he didn't try to injure him, at least not intentionally, and that's..... hm. He's not going to think about that.
“What, prey tell, actually happened out there?” Yoo Sangah asks once she’s satisfied with her assessment of his well-being. She hands Yoo Joonghyuk a blank tunic that she seemingly retrieved out of thin air.
“You were sent to the Unseen for punishment, not to cause even more trouble,” she says. The kids have the mind to look a little sheepish. “And you,” she points a finger in Yoo Joonghyuk’s direction, “that was a very foolish thing to do. How could you fight someone without even knowing their species? Are you a child or were you deliberately behaving stupid?”
“He was a demon,” Yoo Joonghyuk says mulishly.
“Yeah, But what kind? Leliurium? Terrestrial? Aerial? You knew nothing. And you fought him anyway.” She stares up at the ceiling, closes her eyes for a moment, and then looks back at him. Her anger softens a bit when she says, “That was very foolish of you, Your grace.”
Yoo Joonghyuk stands up, goes over to Lee Jihye’s bedside and pats her head once. She looks up at him shocked for a second then she smiles.
“I know,” he says to Yoo Sangah. He maintains eye contact with her even while he gives Kim Namwoon a squeeze on the shoulder.
She stares at him for a moment longer then sighs with a small exasperated smile. She throws his torn clothing at him. “Go get some rest, Yoo Joonghyuk. You may not be injured but you are exhausted. I will see to it that Mia finishes her schoolwork accordingly,” she tells him kindly. He nods at her in thanks then turns to Lee Seolwha to give her a short, bland smile. She raises an eyebrow at him and then punches him in the shoulder lightly.
He picks up his torn clothing from his feet and walks out of the infirmary with sure steps. He attempts to go to his study to pick up a couple of documents for work once he’s handed over the ruined clothing to a passing servant but when he gets to the office, he finds the door handles covered in repelling wards and sighs a very long-suffering sigh before trudging back to his quarters.
Yoo Sangah had obviously been very serious about him getting rest.
He gets to his rooms and goes through the very arduous process of running a steaming hot bath, undressing, and staring at nothing for a good forty minutes. By the time he’s out of the bath, the water has long gone cold and his fingers and toes are all wrinkles.
As he dries himself in the bathroom, he catches a glimpse of himself in the mirror. There’s a thin red slash that can be seen at the back of his neck if he turns his head just so; Yoo Sangah probably missed it when she was checking him over.
The thing is, Yoo Joonghyuk remembers exactly when and how he got this small injury and how he wishes he didn't. It was when he was on the ground and in the arms of his…. Opponent.
He doubts Guwon even remembers nicking in the back of his neck when he was holding Yoo Joonghyuk’s neck after his disastrous failure of an attack. It didn't hurt at all, no, but Yoo Joonghyuk remembers how he felt when Guwon’s talon-like fingernails slashed his skin.
There was a buzz in his ear, he thinks, shock perhaps. He had thought it was a dagger at first and that Guwon was finally going to stop his stalling and cut his throat off but he didn't. Instead, Guwon’s hand was cradling the back of Yoo Joonghyuk’s neck as if he were holding glass, his thumb sweeping small arcs against his skin.
Yoo Joonghyuk feels his ears warm the more he thinks about it. He creeps a hand across the wound and when he pulls it back, a thin line of blood lies on his palm. He stares at it contemplatively as he tries to decipher the emotion that has been swimming in his gut ever since he left the Unseen. Ever since he left Guwon.
He lies in his bed in his nightclothes, his mind a jumbled, disarrayed mess. His hands settle on his waist when he turns to the side but then he remembers Guwon’s strong and warm arms around him and his hands practically fly away from his body, all the while his neck and ears burn scarlet.
He tries to lie on his back with his hands as far away from him as possible but then he remembers the feeling of Guwon’s firm chest pressed to his back and just resigns himself to possibly not getting a wink of sleep at all, no matter how exhausted he feels.
He knows that it would be impossible for him to meet Guwon again. Not that he wants to, obviously. That would be very stupid. Guwon is probably not even his real name and he is a demon. Demons and other creatures alike should not be making him feel this way at all. Demons are conniving and evil and haughty and not at all warm or funny. Or flirty.
He hates demons.
He doesn't hate this demon though.
Yoo Joonghyuk groans and buries his face in his hands. He can't do this. He is called the supreme king for a reason. He can't be succumbed to unnecessary feelings.
In a few hours, he’ll wake up and this fuzzy feeling he feels running through his veins will leave.
It has to.