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Summary
“I—you don’t have such tales in the palace? When a handkerchief goes missing, or a brew you’ve worked on diligently goes awry? It’s the work of a trickster.”
Chan raises his eyebrows. “Like a god? Doesn’t he have a name?”
“Well, sure,” Jeongin says—is the trickster his parents told him about really nothing more than some backwater, podunk wives’ tale? “But we don’t know it. A name is a powerful thing; it has the capacity to control, and a trickster isn’t going to just give it out.”
That's the thing about attracting the favor of a trickster, is that they are inherently tricky. It's in the name—and Jeongin and Chan can't work out the name of the trickster trying to break them apart.