Chapter Text
1- The First Branch
It started with one branch.
It lay neatly atop Baek Cheon’s folded robe, as though placed there with care. Dew still clung to the petals, fresh and cool, and the stem had been cut cleanly.
There was no note.
No signature.
Just plum blossoms.
Baek Cheon bliked.
Once.
Twice.
For a brief moment, he wondered if he was still half-asleep, if Cheong Myeong beating this past years had finally begun playing tricks on him. But the faint, unmistakable scent reached him, grounding him in reality.
“…Plum blossoms,” he muttered.
He rose from his bed and approached slowly, as if afraid the branch might vanish if he moved too quickly. His fingers traced the petals and after a moment’s hesitation, he placed them into a vase.
That should have been the end of it.
But it wasn’t.
Five days later, when the petals had begun to wither, Baek Cheon woke to find the vase full again. Fresh plum blossom had replaced the old ones without a trace left behind, as if the withered branch had never existed. This time, there were more flowers. Fuller. Livelier.
Another few days passed.
Then again.
And again.
Without fail, whenever the blossom faded, new ones appeared.
Before he realized it, the scent of plum blossom had become a constant presence in his room, light and sweet, lingering like an unspoken promise of spring.
2- A Room That Smelled Like Spring
“Baek Cheon sasuk?”
One afternoon, Yoonjong and Jo Geol passed by carrying unconscious Baeksang between them. As they neared Baek Cheon’s quarter, they slowed, noses twitching.
“That smell…” Jo Geol said, peering inside. “Why does it feel like you’re living inside a painting?”
Baek Cheon poured tea calmly, not even glancing up. “Get to the point.”
Jo Geol squinted at the vase by the table. “Did sasuk start gardening?”
“No.”
“Then what, are you dating a spirit?”
“No.”
“Did plum trees adopt you?”
Baek Cheon shut the door in his face.
Outside, Jo Geol yelped. Before he could process his sasuk action, Yoonjong hit him in the face.
Baek Cheon sighed and took a sip of his tea.
What a troublesome sajil I have
His gaze drifted back to the vase. A breeze slipped in through the open window, stirring the petals and carrying their scent through the room.
Plum blossoms.
Unconsciously, his lips curved into a small smile.
“…Seriously,” He muttered. ”That brat.”
His fingers brushed the petals lightly, releasing their fragrance once more.
He knew exactly where these plum blossoms came from.
3- Plum Blossoms Smell Good
It traced back to a few weeks ago.
The day Mount Hua’s plum blossom began to bloom in earnest. When pale pink petals drifted softly in the air, and the mountain was filled with a sweet, gentle fragrance. The training ground rang with the clash of swords.
Baek Cheon, however, had stopped moving.
He stood there, sword lowered, staring up at the sky. It was clear and impossibly blue, and instead of clouds, plum blossom petals fluttered past his vision, slow and light.
What a beauti—
Pwack!
“What are you spacing out for, Sasuk?” a familiar voice snapped. “Want me to send you up there properly?”
Baek Cheon’s head whipped around.
Cheong Myeong stood before him, sword resting on his shoulder, grin sharp and unmistakably demonic.
“YOU. SAID. WE. ARE. ON. A. BREAK!” Baek Cheon shouted.
Cheong Myeong shrugged, utterly unbothered. “Just felt like hitting you.”
Then he did exactly that.
The next strike came fast.
Too fast.
“W-wait!” Baek Cheon barely raised his sword before another blow crashed into him. “You punk—ack! Cheong Myeong!”
“It’s your fault,” Cheong Myeong said cheerfully, raining down strikes, “for thinking about anything other than training. Waist! Knee! Head! Head!”
“I WAS JUST. ACK!”
Baek Cheon tried to block. He really did. Alas, Cheong Myeong’s sword was faster, sharper, and totally uninterested in mercy.
Eventually, Baek Cheon stopped resisting. He crouched, arms raised to shield his head, accepting his fate like a man who had seen this ending too many times.
“…Is it a sin,” he muttered weakly, voice muffled behind his sleeve, “to think that plum blossoms smell good?”
Cheong Myeong paused.
Just for a fraction of a second.
Then he kicked Baek Cheon squarely in the side.
“Stop babbling nonsense.”
On the far side on the training ground, two heads cautiously peeked out from the ground. Too beaten up to raise their head properly.
“…Sahyeong,” Jo Geol whispered, eyes showing pity, “Should we start preparing for a funeral?”
Yoonjong didn’t even look at him and slowly lowered his head. “Shut up, Geol. If he hears you, we’re next.”
Moments later, Cheong Myeong finally sheathed his sword and walked off, looking perfectly satisfied. Meanwhile, Baek Cheon lay flat on the ground, staring at the sky. Contemplating both life and regret. As Cheong Myeong passed the edge of the training ground, his gazed flicked briefly to the plum blossom trees surrounding them. Petals continued to fall, carried by the breeze.
“…Plum blossom, huh.” he muttered, then walked away looking for his next victim.
4- He Who Bring Spring
Another day passed.
The plum blossom branch on Baek Cheon’s desk had finally withered. Its petals, once bright and fresh, had dulled to a fragile pink before loosening one by one, scattering across the tabletop and floor. The vase stood untouched. Empty of replacement.
Late.
Baek Cheon noticed it the moment he woke, but he chose to let it sitting there a little longer. Usually, by now, the old branch would already be gone, replaced without a sound, as if it had never been there at all.
This time, no one came.
He lay back on his bed, staring at the ceiling, exhaustion weighing down every limb. Cheong Myeong had gone mad with training that day, driving them until even breathing hurt. He barely remember how he’d returned, or how he’d washed the sweat from his body.
Only that the room still smelled faintly sweet.
Plum blossoms.
“…what a nice scent.”
Eventually, fatigue dragged him under.
—
Baek Cheon didn’t know how much time had passed before his nose twitched.
The scent was there again.
Stronger.
Much stronger.
Baek Cheon frowned in his sleep. That wasn’t right. The branch had already withered. There shouldn’t be anything left to smell. Unless he was imagining it or unless exhausting had finally driven him mad to the point where he was dreaming of plum blossoms. Slowly, he forced his eyes open.
Pink drifted across his vision.
Petals fell from above, countless and light, brushing against his blankets and shoulders as if carried by a gentle breeze. Some fluttered lazily in the air, others landed softly, piling upon the floor until it was hard to see the wood beneath.
Baek Cheon pushed himself upright, breath caught in his throat.
Amid the failing petals stood a familiar figure in black robes, arms folded behind his head, wearing a grin too satisfied for someone who had just broken into another’s room.
“Took you long enough,” Cheong Myeong said. “Guess I really worked you too hard, huh.”
His tone was teasing, irritating as ever.
But his eyes were
...annoyingly sincere.
Baek Cheon stared, trying to open his mouth, but shut it again. His gaze drifted to the petals, then to the door, then back to Cheong Myeong.
“…The branch,” he said at last.
Cheong Myeong clicked his tongue. “You said it yourself. Plum blossoms smell good.”
Baek Cheon eyes widened.
So he indeed remembered it
Before Baekchoen could respond, Cheong Myeong continued, tone infuriatingly casual. “Plum blossoms are almost done blooming, you know. If I kept replacing them one by one, you’d miss it.”
Since when this brat care about it?
“So I figured,” Cheong Myeong shrugged, eyes gleaming, “I’d just bring everything at once.”
Silence filled the room, broken only by the soft sound of petals touching the floor. Baek Cheon felt something tighten in his chest.
“You’re…” He stopped, unsure how to finish.
The younger one title his head. “What?”
Baekchone shook his head. “…Nothing.”
“Tch. So annoying,” Cheong Myeong turned away .“You owe me, Sasuk. Seriously. Like a looot. This took effort you know.”
He reached for the door.
A soft thud echoed behind him.
“…Oi.”
Baek Cheon had tripped over his own blanket, landing awkwardly on the floor. “Damn it. Wait!”
He scrambled up, face burning. Before he could stop himself, his hand reached out.
Petals clung to Cheong Myeong’s hair and shoulders.
“Look at you,” Baek Cheon said quietly. “Petals everywhere.”
His fingers brushed through Cheong Myeong’s hair and shoulders, carefully picking petals free, smoothing stray ones from his sleeves.
Cheong Myeong froze.
Only for a heartbeat.
Then he scoffed. “Stop fussing. It’s annoying.”
Despite his words, he didn’t brush Baek Cheon’s hand away.
He only turned his face aside, gaze fixed stubbornly on the wall. In the dim light, a faint flush crept up his cheeks.
Subtle.
But unmistakable.
Baek Cheon noticed. His lips curved into a small smile. He wasn’t sure if it was because he was still half-asleep, or if this dream-alike situation had finally made him reckless.
Before he could think any better of it, he lifted both hands and gently cupped Cheong Myeong’s face. Their noses brushed softly, close enough that he could feel Cheong Myeong’s breath hitch.
“…Thank you.” Baek Cheon whispered.
Cheong Myeong’s face turned read all at once.
“What—!”
Before he could finish, Baek Cheon had already pulled his hands back. He turned away just as abruptly and shoved Cheong Myeong toward the door, ears burning.
“Now OUT.”
The door slid shut with a sharp sound. Baek Cheon leaned his forehead against it, then slowly slid down until he was sitting on the floor. One hand came up to cover his face, hear pounding far louder than it should have. When he opened his eyes again, the room was still filled with petals.
They lay scattered everywhere.
On the bed.
The floor.
His sleeves.
Proof that it hadn’t been a dream.
The scent was overwhelming now.
Sweet.
Plum blossoms really did smell good.
And this time, Cheong Myeong hadn’t replaced the branch.
He’d brought the season to him instead.
“…What a crazy bastard.”Baeckheon murmured, a smile finally breaking through.
On the other side of the door, Cheong Myeong stood still.
For a long moment, he didn’t move. He looked as if he were about to shout something, anything, but the words never came. Instead, he lifted a hand and pressed it over his mouth, shoulders tense, as though holding something back.
It took effort not to grin. His ears burned. His face felt hot. No matter how he tried to school his expression, the corners of his lips kept twitching upward, betraying him.
“Tch… damn it,” he muttered.
Straightening, Cheong Myeong turned away at last and began walking down the corridor. His steps were light. Far lighter that usual.
“Plum blossoms really do smell good.” He murmured to himself.
And before he could stop it, he started humming.