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It was a bad idea. It was a horrible idea, in fact. But Chan was out of options, truth be told. It was not an everyday thing that you get so intrinsically cursed by someone who hates witchers to the point where you required special and very specific magical attention. And it was also not an everyday thing that he required this special and very specific magical attention from a certain someone he hadn’t seen in quite a bit. Usually, he didn’t quite care when he had bad blood with certain people. It came with the territory of being a witcher and it also was part of some of his jobs. Some people would sing him praises, about how he was the friend of humanity and how selfless it was of him that he would get rid of the monsters which made their life hell. Some others, though, would probably burn his skin off if they could, because he was meddling with things which, according to them, shouldn’t be meddled with. This type of hatred came in many forms. This time, it came in the form of a spell — a curse — which, if not treated, it would weaken his witcher senses and powers little by little, to the point it would be uncomfortable to live in his own skin. Eventually, he would be so drained of life force that he would just… cease to exist.
Chan didn’t really look into the details of this curse and how exactly it was meant to work; he probably should have done so, because he knew he was going to be asked and when he wouldn’t have an answer, the reprimanding would follow. How dare you be so careless? Do you have no clue what you do to me? What am I supposed to do now?
Chan could hear the voice loud and clear in his head, as if the sorceress of his dreams and nightmares was actually speaking to him telepathically. He wouldn’t be surprised if this sorceress actually managed to do so.
“Witcher. I wasn’t expecting you.” The voice of the actual person pierced through the air, sending tingles down Chan’s spine. The ice in the tone hadn’t thawed out. It’s been months. This was such a mistake.
“Jisu.”
“I don’t recall letting you address me.” Jisu scoffed and took a few steps closer, looking at everything — Roach, the horse, the trees in the horizon, the carriage passing by them on the dirt road, the pebbles under their shoes, literally everything — but him. “To what do I owe the honour of this meeting? Especially one after such a long time?”
Chan couldn’t hear the click of a tongue, but he could imagine it. Jisu was good at instigating fights, he was well aware of that. The worst part about this was the fact Jisu could instigate fights without her actual habits. Chan was way too used to them, so Jisu didn’t even have to do them for the witcher to feel slightly pissed off.
“Can we talk inside of your big and stupid manor?”
Jisung finally made eye contact with Chan and if the ice didn’t start to thaw in the last three months, Chan could definitely feel now that winter would never go away unless he did something about it.
Always the one to do something about it. It didn’t matter if Chan was on his damn near death bed, Jisu just had to annoy him somehow.
“I forgot how pleasantries were never your forte. Ugh, okay, come in. Annoying.”
Jisu just turned on her heels and started to walk towards the house. Chan now noticed Jisu had a basked full of herbs and some other things he could barely identify. She was probably gathering materials for some potions; after all, Jisu didn’t quite like her big, important, privileged role as a sorceress. As soon as she made it out of the service of one of the kings on The Continent, she was more than happy to establish a potion commerce thingy and just focus on that. This was also why it was so easy for Chan to find Jisu without anything important to do.
Okay, there was another reason, too, but he didn’t have time to get into it.
Right. He also had to tie Roach in the stable. And he knew Jisu was not going to wait for him. So, he had exactly two minutes before Jisu would finish putting away the herbs and ingredients. Which meant two minutes before Jisu would rip into him about not moving fast enough. To be fair, Jisu didn’t need any reason to rip into Chan, but in this moment, he knew the sorceress would use any and every reason possible to make Chan’s head hurt.
—
“You’ve decorated.”
Chan couldn’t think of a better thing to say in that moment. He just noticed one more painting since last time he was here, and, somehow, he decided that was worth noting. Way to go.
“Observant, are we, Witcher?” The poison in which Jisu’s tongue was coated was not unknown to Chan. After all, he’s had a fair share of taste before. And sometimes he even missed the taste. Maybe he was the problem after all. Not like it would be surprising, but he didn’t like learning new things about himself, not when it came to complicated feelings. And he had plenty complicated feelings when it came to Jisu.
It was the only thing which occupied his mind, besides the usual — and the fact that he was currently dying.
“Enough about me. What happened?”
Jisu looking to go straight to the point wasn’t new; that’s how she handled business. Chan hated that he was regarded as ‘business,’ though. Alas, he made the bed, and he had to sleep in it.
“I got cursed.”
“Oh, dear me.”
“Please. Let me finish.”
Jisu rolled his eyes, but he nodded, letting Chan know he had Jisu’s full attention.
“I don’t what kind of spell it is and how it works, but it’s something specifically made to kill Witchers. It’s been a week or so. The effects are not in full swing, but I can feel it in my blood. And it overwhelms me. I tried to get rid of it, but I couldn’t. No one knew what to do or how to stop it, so…”
“So, you came to me. Your old friend. The one you always end up at when you’re in trouble. Whatever would you do if I wasn’t here to save your arse?” Jisu sighed and stood up from the chair she was sitting in. They were facing each other, but they were on opposites sides of a wooden table. “Honestly, you got some nerve to show your face here after what happened three months ago. But I am so kind and forgiving. Aren’t you so glad?” Jisu’s words were anything but kind or forgiving. They both knew as much. Jisu’s psychological warfare on Chan was always on-going. Because Jisu was petty. And they both knew Jisu was petty. And Jisu would continue being petty, until Chan was on his knees asking for forgiveness.
Jisu walked towards Chan and without any warning, she ripped a strand of white hair from Chan’s head.
“I bet that made you feel better, didn’t it?” Chan gritted his teeth, but Jisu didn’t give him the satisfaction of answering the question.
“Shut your stupid mouth. I need to research whatever spell was put on you. If only I was the one who thought of this curse.”
“Oh, I’m sure you would want to curse me.”
“I might as well be the one behind this one, too. You will never know.”
“Maybe I do know, now.”
“Are you implying I would do something like this to my most well regarded ally and friend?” Jisu sounded offended, as he was grinding Chan’s strand of hair with some herbs, ready to cast a spell to study further what this curse might be.
“Anything’s possible when it comes to you, my dear.”
“If this curse won’t kill you, I will. One way or another.”
“You flatter me.”
“You’re easy to flatter. I would know.”
Chan decided to not continue this mindless chatter. He knew Jisunwas bound to win, purely because she was fuelled by spite. Jisu was always fuelled by spite. Why was he in love with such a person?
Silence took over the house, the only audible sounds being the fire crackling somewhere deeper inside, and the whispers Jisu did to reveal more information about the curse. Chan was left to observe, his yellow eyes scanning the entirety of the scene before him. He forgot how beautiful Jisu could be — especially in this kind of environment. She was made to perform magic; it was like a tune she couldn’t ignore when the bard sung it. It flowed within Jisu’s being and it made its existence known in every particle of skin, every strand of hair, every word. Chan knew this came from Jisu’s half elven lineage, but he also believed there was no other person — human or elf — that could be this in tune with magic. Not even he, as a witcher, could say magic was this intricate to his life. And he was made by magic.
Maybe the actual curse wasn’t the one trying to kill him, but the pretty woman in the room which, despite her wants to murder Chan, decided to help him, anyway.
Love was a funny thing and a violent, reckless act.
“This is quite the curse. Someone put some… effort in this.” Jisu was holding back. There was something on her mind, but it seemed like she didn’t want to go into details. “However, it seems to not be the final product. So, whoever made this, it’s mostly a prototype of some kind. It can be undone quite easily.”
Jisu put down the small, stone bowl and leaned to take the head of a spear instead. He took some steps towards Chan and for a brief second, she seemed worried. Chan didn’t know if he was making it up or not, but he chose to believe that there is no Universe in which Jisu wouldn’t be concerned for him. Not even when they have a stupid lovers’ quarrel going on.
“Give me your hand.” Chan complied with Jisu’s demand without any question or complaint. The sorceress made a cut in his palm, waiting for blood to gather. When she decided it was enough, Jisu drew some signs on Chan’s hand, coating most of it and his wrist in some magical symbols. Chan recognised half. Once Jisu was done drawing, she started whispering some words, the blood sparkling to life in a bright colour. The symbols started to expand all over Chan’s arm, and then further and further away. He could feel his own skin on fire and his blood boiling inside his veins. It was quite a peculiar feeling, but not worse enough to have him wince in pain. Chan didn’t even have enough time to get used to it. As quickly as it started, as quickly it faded away.
Maybe he should have been concerned about that. What if what Jisu tried to do didn’t work? What if he was not cured? He wanted to believe Jisu would have said something if Chan was still in danger. After all, Jisu was one of the most powerful sorceresses on The Continent.
“Your thoughts are so loud. Ugh.” Jisu murmured and placed Chan’s hand on the table. She started looking around for some cloth she could use to patch up the cut. Once she found a clean one, she started wrap it around Chan’s palm. It was not needed, as witchers could regenerate faster than others, but Jisu definitely felt like she owed it to Chan for some reason. “There’s nothing to be worried about. The feeling you had might return in the next few days. While it was a prototype, it seems like this curse is weird to kill. It was done with the blood of a witcher which is already dead.”
“Who?”
If Chan sounded startled, Jisu pretended not to notice.
“I couldn’t figure it out. But whoever started working on this is a coward, if you ask me. Humans have killed witchers using nothing but tools. And yet here come the slightly magically inclined using a curse that can’t even be done if you don’t have another witcher’s blood already. Must have acquired it from some shady seller or something. Alas. You will be fine. I will conduct a search to see who is trying to do such experiments in their free time.”
“You don’t have to.”
“I don’t remember asking for your permission, Witcher.”
Chan sighed. This situation felt a little bit too sensitive to bring other things up. But he decided it was now or never.
“Jisung.” The word sounded weird on Chan’s tongue. “I’m sorry.”
“Took you long enough to say something.” Jisu rolled her eyes and finished patching up the cut, letting Chan’s hand fall on the table. “Three months, Chan. Not even a stupid letter?”
“I thought you hated sappy letters.”
“What I hate is you.”
“Not even you believe that.”
A scoff. And a smile from Chan, which he knew wasn’t appreciated by Jisu.
“Maybe I should have let the curse kill you. Or better yet, maybe I should have sped up the curse.”
“Dear, come on.”
Jisu fixed her purple eyes on Chan, and the witcher knew it was the time for him to shut the hell up once and for all.
“Don’t ever run away from me like this ever again. Next time if you don’t come back to say sorry in maximum of three days, I’m hunting you down and I’m making a statement out of you to the School of the Wolf.” Jisu pointed a finger with a sharp nail at Chan, who just nodded. He was sure Jisu could see the regret (and stupid love) in his eyes. “Anyway, there’s a kikimora I need you to get rid of.”
“Wow, straight to other things.”
“Eye for an eye, witcher. I lifted your curse, you lift mine.”
Chan was convinced that the real curse he suffered from when it came to Jisu wouldn’t ever be lifted, but how could he say no to her of all people? Sure, he could try, but he still liked living and he was a rational person, after all.
“Where may I find this kikimora?”
“South from here, beloved. Make sure to bring a trophy for the house. I’ll prepare you a bath in advance as well.”
“You can be so sweet sometimes.”
“Don’t get used to it now, Chan. Get out. I have some other things to do, things you interrupted me from.”
“I can feel the love.”
Jisu pointed at the door. She really didn’t like having her business interfered with. Chan knew that. But if Jisu was truly upset, she wouldn’t be talking. She would try to kick Chan out using magic. Maybe it was close to that already, but he was sure Jisu wouldn’t use magic (anymore) to hurt Chan. Just a testament that Jisu was under the same stupid curse called love, just like Chan.