Chapter Text
“Mark, I know I repeat myself, but you can’t continue this.”
A corner of Mark’s lips twitches. Although he wants to say something, Mark remains silent.
He opens his eyes and blinks them to accustom them to the bright lights of the Quiet Room. The impeccably white walls and flooring do nothing to help his eyes, but Mark’s vision of Chenle sitting opposite him sharpens, and Mark shoots his friend a small, grateful smile.
Seconds pass, and Chenle sighs when Mark doesn’t deign to reply. Chenle rises to leave. “Jisung and I are meeting Jeno for dinner.”
“Say hi to them for me.”
At Chenle’s second sigh, Mark chuckles under his breath. He earns himself a soft punch on the shoulder, but the hand stroking his hair makes Mark hum in contentment instead.
“Don’t stay too long.” Chenle’s fingers briefly and playfully toy with Mark’s hair. “Remember to be back in your room before 7. I’ll bring dinner for you.”
“Yes, sir.”
Mark’s bark of laughter at his friend’s narrowed eyes of suspicion vanishes when Chenle disappears behind the door. Mark traces the rectangular outline of the door with his eyes before the pure white colour caused them to ache, and he drops his head. To avoid visual overload, Mark shuts his eyes.
Darkness follows.
Mark opens his eyes, not surprised to find himself standing within a familiar snowscape. He finds the vast, snow-white expanse calming, unlike the Quiet Room. And Mark would revel if not for the whipping snowstorm towering over him. Freezing snow slice across his skin, causing frostbitten cuts to his exposed forearms and face.
And yet, they don’t hurt, because temperature or pain from superficial wounds is imperceptible in a Sentinel’s Spirit Realm.
Despite that, a pain plagues Mark’s head every second, tormenting him. It should have vanished after Chenle had helped declutter his thoughts, easing the intensity of the behemoth of a snowstorm in Mark’s mind.
Still, they stay. Not the clutter, snowstorm, or pain will ever disappear.
Three years of relentless snowstorms haven’t toughened Mark. He might never will.
Not until his Guide shows themselves.
—
Mark knows that he is being stared at.
As a Sentinel, his senses are hyperactive. With minimal exertion, Mark can detect and sense movements a couple of kilometres away. Without squinting, he can read the fine print of posters pasted on walls at the farthest end of the room. His improved ability to detect scents helps him figure out the breakfast menu from tens of metres away from the Mess Hall. (It’s not great when the air smells bad, though.) Mark’s amplified sense of taste meant that he can only eat lightly flavoured food.
Is help required in removing a grizzly bear from someone’s backyard? No problem. Even if Sentinels have only received minimal combat training, their monstrous physical strength suffices to take on wild beasts with little effort.
This stare, though. Mark doesn’t need his Sentinel instincts to sense it.
“She’s a S rank,” Chenle whispers. “One of the few select Guides Commander Jeong poached from Tokyo.”
Mark flinches. His Sentinel hearing is too acute for a mere whisper to be just a whisper.
As he rubs his ear, Mark moves away from his friend, his expression darkening even more at the sight of Chenle’s oily lips. They were just at his ear. Mark grimaces, causing Chenle to mistake it for disdain.
“At least slap a smile on your face,” Chenle remarks as he points an accusing spoon at Mark, only for Jisung to push it away in the next second and wrestle it from his bonded Guide. Chenle rolls his eyes but still leans into his Sentinel as a subtle way of showing that he’s not mad. “Those Guides probably came here because of you and your handsome face.”
Instead of the smile asked of him, Mark slaps away the finger that is almost prodding his nose with a disapproving tsk. “I’m pretty sure this Tower has more good-looking S-ranked Sentinels.” He scoops rice onto his spoon. “Besides, they won’t want to bond with me. I’m defective.”
Every Sentinel and Guide on the globe knows that Sentinel Mark Lee of Seoul Tower, albeit one of the strongest S-ranked Sentinels in the world as assessed by the System, remains unbonded because of the defect that accompanied his Awakening.
“You just haven’t met your Guide yet, Mark.” Jeno lifts a spoon at Mark. “Because when that Guide comes, your dangerous snowscape will transform into a winter wonderland.”
Jeno’s words pause before sinking in, and a bittersweet smile forms on Mark’s face. Then, the smile quirks into an empty smirk that leaves an aftertaste far too bitter for Mark’s liking.
—
Mark’s Awakening was much like any other Sentinel or Guide.
A sharp pain in his head. The sensation of dizziness. Black spots dotted his vision. His body burned up as though someone lit him on fire, and aches ravaged his muscles.
Mark remembered staggering sideways, a hand extending forward to break his fall, when his knees buckled. The discomfort in his head shot to the rest of his body, wreaking havoc everywhere within him.
Mark’s pain surpassed any he’d experienced. Excruciating was an understatement. The intense pain overwhelmed him, and he collapsed.
When Mark awoke in a public hospital almost a week later, he was no longer just a human. The doctor’s congratulations, you’re a Sentinel had not sounded genuine.
And, oh, his parent’s expressions. The commingling of pride and concern on his parents’ faces remains etched in Mark’s memory because they must have known then.
That their son awoke as a defected Sentinel.
His mother, one of Vancouver Tower’s most celebrated Guides in her heydays, must have entered his Spirit Realm and seen the snowstorm raging in it. She must have tried to dispel it, but failed.
In fact, in the months that followed Mark’s fateful Awakening, plenty of other Guides have also entered his Spirit Realm and attempted to make the snowstorm disappear. The results were the same.
To Mark, that spoke volumes.
If experienced and powerful Guides could not rid him of the snowstorm, who could?
(Mark’s mother was the only Guide who had tried her best.
At home, she decluttered Mark’s mind daily during his years at the Academy, where he learned to be a Sentinel before graduating and joining Seoul Tower.
Mark would never forget how she looked after each session—perspiration glistened all over her face, the paleness of her lips, the lack of light in her eyes, and how she had to be carried to bed by his father.
His mother looked lifeless. And it was painfully terrifying for Mark because, god, it was his Spirit Realm—the damned snowstorm within it—that did that to her.
Mark always ensured the Guides tidied up his thoughts with no need to exert great effort, to prevent a repeat of his mother’s ordeal.
He’s not worth it. This defective Sentinel will never be worthy of any Guide’s life.)
—
Mark jolts awake.
His breathing is hard, chest heaving, breaths loud and ragged. His vision is still swimming, but the faint light emanating from his bedside lamp brings into focus a curious nose that is bopping his own and a tongue that is licking at his chin.
Mark murmurs, “Ooyoo…,” rubbing his eyes, only to have his fingers licked. “Why are you here… Oof!”
The head of a snow leopard plops onto Mark’s chest, pushing the air out of his lungs. It purrs before nuzzling its chin against Mark’s exposed stomach. It’s ticklish. Mark chuckles. “Ooyoo, stop it. Why are you out here anyw—Oh.”
At Mark’s pause, the large feline looks up and tilts its head. As Mark’s Spirit Animal, it knows what he is thinking and is aware of its owner’s emotions. A furry paw rests itself on Mark’s chest, hoping to comfort its Sentinel.
Mark smiles. He uses the back of a hand to wipe off the perspiration on his forehead before putting it on his snow leopard’s paw. “I guess I had that nightmare again, didn’t I?” His hand gently pats the paw while the other scritches the underside of Ooyoo’s jaw, causing the snow leopard to mew once more in contentment as its eyes flutter shut.
The Spirit Animal’s delight floods Mark, and a small smile forms on his face.
While under-researched, bonds exist between Sentinels and Guides and their Spirit Animals. It connects their emotions and thoughts, senses, and pain. Any Sentinel or Guide will admit that this link is something they’ll never want to lose.
It’s warm and comforting, dispelling the slight unease Mark had when he first woke. Mark snuggles closer to the snow leopard, not minding the weight on his chest and the warm, wet breaths fanning his face. Years of sharing a bed with the large feline have made Mark used to it. It’s very soothing, to be honest. Next to Ooyoo, Mark is home.
After all, Ooyoo is the closest creature he can regard as his family member now.
A tail taps on Mark’s shoulder, and Mark sees it pointing at the digital clock beside the bedside lamp. Almost half past four. Mark nods and gives his Spirit Animal a wink of acknowledgement. “Thanks, Ooyoo. Time to get some sleep.” There’s an important combat training happening in a couple of hours that Mark can’t miss, so he closes his eyes and attempts to go back to sleep. Yet, his eyelids fly open in the next moment because, fuck, he sees his nightmare again.
Mark takes a deep breath.
It’s shaky, and the impulse to cry is there, but he knows he mustn’t. One rogue tear will be all it takes for the floodgates to open, and Mark does not want a concerned Ooyoo to go looking for Jeno. His Spirit Animal had retrieved Chenle during his last nightmare, and the younger Guide treated Mark like a child, patting him to sleep.
Ignoring the concern swimming in his snow leopard’s eyes, Mark shuts his eyes. He breathes. Time to sleep.
A heartbeat later, Ooyoo whimpers. Mark senses a tongue graze his chin again. It’s telling enough. Reflects a great deal about his mental state. Because behind Mark’s eyelids, the nightmare makes its appearance again.
Mark expects another sleepless night.
—
“Big news!”
Jisung rushes over from the entrance of the Mess Hall, wheezing, and slams his palms on the table. Mark almost drops his fork into his cup of hot chocolate as he winces at the loud sound. Jisung seems to regret it too, when he flinches even more.
Next to him, Chenle purses his lips, then takes the Sentinel’s hands into his, fingers massaging Jisung’s palms to ease the pain as he pulls Jisung down to sit on the bench. “What brought you rushing here?”
A smile spreads across Jisung’s face. “Remember Commander Jeong’s application to the Towers’ exchange programme, specifically requesting Hokkaido Tower? Well, they’ve accepted!”
A month ago, Commander Jeong announced Seoul Tower’s participation in the annual Towers’ exchange programme and his request for Hokkaido Tower.
Unease had seized Mark’s heart then.
Don’t misunderstand him; Mark has nothing against Hokkaido.
It’s beautiful, with magnificent mountains, stunning lakes, forests and more. He had spent a couple of months in his younger years obsessing over the prefecture (no thanks to his neighbour who sang daily praises of it).
Oh, and the snow. Undisturbed, pristine, and glittering under the sunlight. Photographs do not do the snowscape justice. Hokkaido has to be visited in person.
(At the Academy, Mark learned that experiences before a Sentinel or Guide’s Awakening could shape their Spirit Realms and Spirit Animals.
It got him wondering if his inexplicable love for Hokkaido had been the reason that his Spirit Realm was a snowscape.
It could have been.)
Mark hasn’t personally seen Hokkaido’s snow.
A promised holiday by his parents never materialised, nor would it ever in the future. A solo trip isn’t possible, for until bonded Sentinels and Guides reached their “retirement” age or if they’re expecting a child, they cannot leave the Tower because of the unpredictable nature of their non-human strengths.
“They’re sending over some Guides and Sentinels for the exchange programme!”
Jisung’s voice snaps Mark out of his reverie, and unease washes over him again. Mark clenches his hands, fingers digging into his palms.
Hokkaido Tower boasts many high ranking Guides and Sentinels, a global leader among elite Towers. The chances of them picking him are slim.
“Um.” Jeno raises his hand, and Mark wants to coo at the cuteness. What Jeno asks next makes his smile drop, though.
“Is he taking part in the programme?”
Although no one has mentioned a name, Mark knows what Jisung is going to say. He may not wish to listen to the younger Sentinel’s words, yet Jisung’s pointed look is impossible to ignore. Jisung’s apologetic smile cemented Mark’s suspicion.
No one can tell how Mark’s uneasiness threatened to implode within him with each passing second.
Meanwhile, Chenle looks confused. “Who is Jeno talking about? And why are you two looking at Mark like that?”
Jisung murmurs, “Yeah, they’re sending him.”
Mark can almost hear the hahaha he used to experience daily during his younger years. And if he closes his eyes, he can make out a cute button nose, two adorable front teeth peeking out from under plush lips, sun-kissed skin, and a pair of pretty legs that stretch for miles.
Shit. Mark refuses to believe that the one person whom he thought he would never see again is returning.
“Donghyuck is coming to Seoul Tower.”