Chapter Text
San watches in disbelief as Wooyoung throws the silver chalice into the sand, his expression a mix of defiance and distaste.
"Couldn't they make poison that isn't bitter?" he quips, sticking out his tongue in a childish gesture that belies the gravity of the situation.
"You have until sunrise," the mage replies, his tone flat, as if delivering an inevitable sentence.
San's heart sinks. Wooyoung is taking this too lightly, and he can feel the edges of panic creeping into his mind.
"Listen to me," Wooyoung leans forward, urgency radiating from him as he gulps for air, "Find Yeosang. It isn't fast acting; likely, it will remain dormant for a certain time and slowly seep out. Yeosang can cure it."
The words hang in the air, heavy with implications. All San can do is stare, disbelief coursing through him like ice water. Wooyoung has drunk poison—poison of all things. Recklessness floods his thoughts, mingled with a desperate ache that coils in his chest. He can't believe that Wooyoung would risk everything like this, that he'd put himself in danger so willingly.
"San, let's go. We have to find him." Wooyoung urges, the fire in his eyes igniting a flicker of hope amidst the dread that suffocates San.
But San can't move. The world around him feels surreal, as if time has stilled, the waves crashing against the shore now muted by the rush of his thoughts. He feels his heart race, pounding against his ribcage like a drum, a frantic reminder of the urgency of their situation.
"Wooyoung, you can't just—" San stumbles over his words, frustration bubbling to the surface. "You can't just throw your life away like this. What were you thinking?"
His voice raises, filled with a mix of anger and fear.
"San, we don't have time to argue!" Wooyoung's voice slices through the haze of San's frantic thoughts, sharp and clear like a dagger. It pulls him from the whirlwind of anxiety threatening to consume him.
With a determined urgency, San stands up, his heart racing, but before he can fully gather his thoughts, Wooyoung grips his arm, pulling him along.
"How do we get out?" Wooyoung huffs, his breath coming in quick bursts, frustration coloring his tone as he shoots an angry glance at the mage.
The mage, still perched casually on the rock, regards them with an amused expression, unbothered by their panic.
"Your magic will be nullified until the sun comes up," he replies, his voice smooth and calm as if discussing the seasons rather than a dire life-or-death situation.
Wooyoung's frustration boils over.
"How do you have that kind of power?" San finds himself asking before he can stop himself, his voice laced with disbelief.
The mage's lips curl into a smug smile, clearly enjoying their distress.
"Power is not merely about brute strength or flashy spells," he says, leaning back as if he's about to impart some grand wisdom. "It's about understanding the very essence of magic itself. I can manipulate the rules of this realm because I have learned to embrace its true nature."
"Enough with your riddles!" Wooyoung snaps, his eyes blazing with determination despite the tears still lingering on his lashes. "We need to escape before sunrise. Can't you do something to help us?"
The mage raises an eyebrow, the corners of his mouth twitching with amusement. "Help you? Oh, my dear young mage, this is a test. A trial for you both. You must learn to navigate your fears and desires. Only then will you find the way out."
San clenches his fists, the tension mounting as he watches Wooyoung's expression darken with frustration.
"A test? Wooyoung's life is on the line."
"Is it?" The mage muses, his tone mockingly inquisitive as his eyebrows raise curiously. "Is his life truly in danger? Or is it your perception that threatens to unravel you?"
San's fists clench at his sides, his voice low and filled with barely contained rage. "I'm going to kill him."
"You can just pardon yourself," Wooyoung replies, a hint of sarcasm creeping into his voice. "It's a beach, we'll just walk."
With that, Wooyoung pulls San by the arm, his determination shining through the haze of uncertainty. But as they begin to move, the world around them starts to fade, the colors of the beach bleeding into a void of nothingness.
"Wait!" San exclaims, instinctively grabbing onto Wooyoung, pulling him closer as a wave of vertigo washes over them. The air thickens, and with a sudden lurch, they find themselves standing in the center of the town square, the heart of the kingdom.
They are on a parade carriage, towering above the crowd, but instead of cheers and applause, a chorus of boos and jeers fills the air, drowning out any semblance of hope. San's heart drops as he scans the faces twisted in anger and disdain, their eyes burning with contempt.
"What's happening?" Wooyoung whispers, his voice trembling as he looks around in disbelief, eyes wide and searching.
San huffs, his frustration boiling beneath the surface.
"He's making us go through my fears. Again." The weight of the situation presses down on him, tightening his chest.
"But why?" Wooyoung clings to San's arm, his grip desperate as if the touch might anchor him in this surreal nightmare. San glances down at him, noting the paleness of Wooyoung's face and the sheen of sweat clinging to his skin—a clear sign of the poison working its way through him. It breaks San's heart to see Wooyoung like this, vulnerable and scared.
"Because they all involve you, Young-ah." San's voice softens, the concern threading through his words as he tries to reassure Wooyoung, who looks up at him with wide, worried eyes.
"Choi San!" The booming voice of San's father cuts through the tension, sharp and commanding. San's heart races as he instinctively steps in front of Wooyoung, positioning himself as a shield between the man he loves and the fury of his father.
"How dare you align yourself with this traitor," the king continues, his tone dripping with contempt. "A mage disguised as a physician—he should be hanged."
San feels the fury rise within him, anger coursing through his veins like fire.
"No," he gulps, forcing the words out despite the tremor in his voice. "He's mine."
The declaration hangs in the air, heavy and charged, defiance sparking in his chest as he stands firm against his father's accusations.
The crowd grows restless, a sea of faces twisted in anger and disdain, their shouts rising in a chorus of condemnation. San's heart pounds in his ears, but he refuses to back down. He glances back at Wooyoung, whose expression is a mix of fear and determination, and it strengthens San's resolve.
"You've been blinded by this—this creature! Magic is a curse, a threat to our kingdom!"
"Magic isn't the enemy!" San retorts, the anger spilling over. "You are, for refusing to see the truth. Wooyoung is not like the others; he doesn't use his magic to hurt. He uses it to help!"
Wooyoung shifts slightly behind San, his grip tightening as the tension in the air thickens. San feels the weight of his presence, the warmth of Wooyoung's body grounding him as they face the impending storm together.
The king's expression hardens, his disappointment palpable. "You will regret this, Choi San. This will cost you everything."
San's heart aches, but he stands tall, refusing to let fear dictate his actions.
"Then let it cost me," he declares, determination igniting within him. Let it cost him everything his legacy entails, as long as Wooyoung is safe.
With every ounce of resolve he possesses, San steps forward, ready to face the wrath of his father and the judgment of the crowd, fully aware that this moment could change everything. But as long as Wooyoung is by his side, he knows they can weather the storm together.
The world around them swirls like smoke, colors and shapes merging into a fluid tapestry of light and shadow. Gradually, the chaos settles, and the scene crystallizes, transforming into the familiar contours of Wooyoung's room on the ground floor of the castle. The walls, once vibrant, now appear muted, as if the very essence of joy has been siphoned away.
Wooyoung blinks in disbelief.
"My...room?" he asks, his voice wavering as he looks up at San, sweat glistening on his forehead, eyes beginning to darken with fatigue.
"Sit, Young-ah," San urges, concern etching deep lines into his brow. He can see the toll the poison is taking on Wooyoung. "Are you feeling okay?"
"Just dandy," Wooyoung murmurs, forcing a smile as he sinks onto the bed, its fabric rough and unforgiving beneath him. "My mattress is a lot harder than this, San."
San's heart clenches at the sight of Wooyoung's feeble attempt to lighten the mood.
"This fear is going to take a lot longer," he whispers, guilt gnawing at him. "I'm sorry."
"Don't want that," Wooyoung replies, mustering his strength to smile despite the growing heaviness in his eyes. "What is this fear? It's just my room."
San scans the space, his gaze lingering on the bare walls and the clutter of Yeosang's storage crates strewn across the floor. The familiar sight stirs a sense of nostalgia within him, but it also amplifies the underlying dread.
"You're not here," San finally admits, the weight of his realization settling heavily in the air, suffocating in its intensity.
"What do you mean?" Wooyoung's brow furrows, confusion flickering in his weary eyes, the shadows of uncertainty deepening the bags beneath them. San takes a deep breath, the truth pressing on his chest like a vice, threatening to crush him under its burden.
"When you go on your little adventures..." San's gaze locks onto Wooyoung's sweaty face, every line of worry etched in his features making his heart ache. "And you won't come back."
"I promised I would," Wooyoung's voice rises in urgency, his desperation palpable as he searches San's eyes for understanding. "I always have."
"I know," San nods, forcing the words through a tight throat. "Doesn't mean the fear goes away."
Wooyoung's eyes dart around the room, taking in the emptiness, as if he were a stranger in his own space. The familiar walls feel foreign, the memories tainted by the weight of his absence.
"That mage that poisoned me," Wooyoung looks back up to him, his voice trembling with the weight of revelation. "He slipped a sigil—your sigil—into my horse's pouch. For the longest time, I thought you gave it to me. I thought you wanted to remind me of where home is...that you were worried, but you were trusting me."
San's heart tightens, a mixture of pride and pain surging within him. He never wanted to burden Wooyoung with his fears, but hearing those words cuts deeper than he anticipated
"Young-ah," he starts, but Wooyoung interrupts.
"Can you hold me, San?" The request hangs in the air, fragile yet potent, sending a shudder of longing through San.
Without a moment's hesitation, San crosses the distance between them, sinking down onto the bed beside Wooyoung. He wraps his arms around him, pulling him close, letting Wooyoung lean his head into his chest like he always does. The familiar weight of Wooyoung's body against him feels like home, grounding San amid the chaos of their surroundings.
"I love you, Young-ah," San whispers, leaning down so his nose brushes against Wooyoung's warm forehead, a soft reminder of their bond. "I have to accept that someday you might not come back to me."
"Why is that the only outcome?" Wooyoung says dejectedly, his voice tinged with frustration. He pulls back slightly to look up at San, eyes shimmering with unshed tears. "Why can't you accept that I will come back? Always?"
"I don't know," San admits, squeezing him tighter, wishing he could erase the uncertainty that clouds his heart. "I have to get you out of here."
"On the fact that I'm dying and all," Wooyoung replies with a weak chuckle, but it quickly dissolves into a sob as the reality sinks in.
"I won't let you," San insists, his voice thick with emotion, feeling the burn of tears in his eyes. "We have to go home."
"I am home." Wooyoung presses his head back into San's chest, reaffirming his presence, as if the warmth of San's body could anchor him in this moment. "This is where I want to be."
"I promised I would take you out—a week to ourselves. Just me and you," San sniffles, trying to hold onto the hope that lingers between them. "And I promised I would marry you. Marry you properly."
At those words, Wooyoung's resolve crumbles, and he starts to cry, soft, heartbreaking sobs that resonate in the hollow room.
"You can take me out. Take me to my cottage," Wooyoung's voice trembles, and he lifts his gaze, his eyes glassy yet filled with a fierce determination. "And then you promise to take me home again?"
"Yes. Yes, I will take you home again." San nods vigorously, the words tumbling out with an urgency that catches in his throat.
"Find Yeosang," Wooyoung takes in a shaky breath, his voice wavering as the poison seeps deeper into his system. "The poison is going to make me pass out, but I'm still alive. I promise—I wouldn't lie to you, San, ever."
"Wooyoung." San's tears fall freely now, landing in the soft strands of Wooyoung's hair, which has grown impossibly long and wild.
"Two sides of the same coin," Wooyoung murmurs, his eyes starting to flutter as the exhaustion from the poison weighs heavily upon him. "Two people who take care of me."
"There was one more fear," San grips him tighter, as if holding on can somehow protect them from the inevitable. "This one—this is my biggest fear."
But as the shadows begin to close in, Wooyoung's eyes have closed, and he sinks into unconsciousness, leaving San alone.
San cries and cries, the sound echoing through the remnants of the illusion, filling the empty space around them with despair. Each sob feels like a dagger in his chest, a painful reminder of the reality he is now forced to confront. His grip on Wooyoung tightens as if he can will the warmth of his lover back into consciousness. The scent of Wooyoung's hair, once a comfort, now twists into a haunting reminder of the life they could lose.
"He won't come back," San sniffles, burying his face deep into Wooyoung's hair, inhaling the familiar scent of home that now feels tainted by loss. "He won't come back."
The words are raw and jagged, caught in his throat like shards of glass. He can feel his heart racing in his chest, the frantic beats echoing the dread that settles like a heavy fog over his mind.
The forest around them seems to reflect his turmoil. Shadows stretch and shift, whispering secrets that San can't quite grasp, taunting him with the uncertainty of it all. He's lost in a moment where the world feels painfully still, the silence amplifying his grief, each heartbeat thudding louder than the last.
Wooyoung's still body sits lifeless in his arms, the vibrant energy that usually radiates from him now dulled, leaving San clutching at a husk of the person he loves. The illusion of Wooyoung's bedroom, once filled with warmth and laughter, begins to dissipate like smoke, replaced by the stark reality of the forest ground beneath them. The soft earth, once a comforting bed of leaves, now feels cold and unforgiving, amplifying the sharp pang of loss in his chest.
San's sobs deepen, tears streaming down his cheeks, falling onto Wooyoung's face as he clings to him with desperate intensity.
"I told you I would never ask you to stay," San sniffles, his voice trembling as the rawness of his plea spills into the still air. "But this is the one time I'm asking. Please, Young-ah, stay...stay."
His words hang in the silence like a fragile thread, a plea woven with the urgency of his heart. He feels as if he's grasping at shadows, his grip tightening on Wooyoung as if holding on just a little harder can change their fate. But as the illusion fades, so does the warmth of Wooyoung's presence. San is left alone, surrounded by the dense trees that seem to close in on him, swallowing him whole in their suffocating embrace.
The forest is silent except for the sound of his grief, the only witness to the depth of his despair. Every breath feels heavier, laden with the weight of the moment, and San rocks back and forth, instinctively trying to soothe the ache that spreads through him. He holds onto Wooyoung's body as if it is the last tether to a world he doesn't want to live in without him.
The tears continue to flow, hot and relentless, carving paths down his face as he clings to the lifeless body before him. San squeezes his eyes shut, shutting out the world around him as he takes a deep breath, steadying himself against the storm of emotion swirling within.
Find Yeosang.
The words echo in San's mind, a haunting mantra that drives him forward. Find Yeosang.
He feels the weight of Wooyoung's body in his arms, the warmth slowly fading as he cradles him against the forest floor, the grass a stark contrast to the chill creeping into the air. San's heart aches at the sight of Wooyoung's still form, his face serene yet hauntingly pale. He doesn't want to leave him alone—doesn't want to face the reality of his absence—but he knows that time is slipping through his fingers like sand.
With a heavy heart, San gently lays Wooyoung down on the soft grass, careful not to disturb him further.
"I'll be right back," he whispers, a promise made to the unconscious form. He brushes a trembling hand across Wooyoung's cheek, hoping for some sign, some spark of life to reassure him. But there's nothing—only the whisper of the wind and the rustle of leaves in the surrounding trees.
San turns and takes a step back toward the heart of the forest, each stride pulling him further away from the person he loves most. Find Yeosang. The urgency propels him forward, a desperate plea urging him to move, to act, to do something, anything that could change the fate unfolding before him.
As he navigates the tangled underbrush, memories flash before his eyes—Yeosang's steady hands, his calm demeanor, the way he always knew how to fix things. If anyone can help Wooyoung, it's him.
The other half of the coin.