Chapter Text
Snow had been falling over the village since dawn.
It wasn’t heavy, just enough to soften the rooftops and gather along windowsills in pale white drifts. The streets were still busy despite the cold. Lanterns glowed warm against the early winter dark, market vendors called greetings to passing customers, and somewhere farther down the road, someone had started singing Christmas carols loudly enough to make nearby shopkeepers laugh.
It was the kind of village where everyone knew everyone.
Everyone knew who baked the best bread, whose fence needed repairing, which children tracked snow through the library every Tuesday afternoon, and which elderly couple still held hands while walking to the market every morning.
And everyone knew Park Sunghoon.
“There he is.”
Sunghoon looked up at the familiar voice and smiled politely despite how he was struggling to balance the basket against his hip.
Mrs. Choi stood outside her flower stall wrapped in layers of knitted scarves, waving him over with one gloved hand.
“You’re out early again,” she said once she approached. “Your family working you to death this winter too?”
The words were lighthearted. The look in her eyes wasn’t.
Sunghoon’s smile faltered just slightly before returning. “It’s not that bad.”
It always hurt to hear him say that.
Mrs. Choi sighed quietly and reached into a basket beside her stall. “Take these.”
Sunghoon blinked down at the wrapped pastries she pressed into his hands. “You don’t have to--”
“I know I don’t.” Her voice softened. “You look freezing.”
For a second, something painfully grateful flickered across Sunghoon’s face.
Then footsteps sounded farther down the street. Sunghoon startled hard enough to nearly drop the basket.
Mrs. Choi’s expression immediately dimmed.
A tall man stood near the edge of the market square, dark coat sweeping around his legs as snow drifted past him. Even from a distance, his sharp gaze settled directly on Sunghoon.
Sunghoon lowered his head instantly. “I’m sorry,” he murmured quickly. “I should go home soon.”
Mrs. Choi pressed her lips together. The man hadn’t even called for him yet, and Sunghoon already looked terrified.
“Yes,” she said quietly. “Be careful walking back.”
Sunghoon nodded once before hurrying away through the crowd.
People watched him go, some with pity, some with guilt, most with silence, because there was nothing they could do.
_______________________
“You’re staring.”
Heeseung looked away from the market window as the accusation came from somewhere between amused and annoyed.
“I’m observing,” he corrected.
His half-brother snorted from behind the library counter.
The village library was small, warm, and smelled heavily of old parchment and cedarwood. Snow tapped softly against the windows while a fire crackled in the corner hearth.
Heeseung leaned lazily against a bookshelf, arms crossed. “You didn’t mention this village had such depressing scenery.”
“It’s winter.”
“I wasn’t talking about the snow.”
Jongseong followed his gaze through the window. Sunghoon had just disappeared around the corner carrying what looked like enough supplies to collapse beneath.
Jongseong’s ears twitched slightly atop his head before flattening. “...Ah.”
That single sound told Heeseung enough to straighten slightly. “You know him.”
“Everyone knows him.” There was something strange in Jongseong’s voice now, something tired.
Heeseung frowned faintly. “Then why did everyone in the market look like someone had died when he walked away?”
Jongseong was quiet for a moment. Then, finally, he moved around the counter and shut the book he’d been sorting. “His family owns the manor on the hill.”
“The one surrounded by those protective wards?”
“Yeah.”
Heeseung whistled low. “That family?”
The manor overlooked nearly the entire village from the cliffs above the forest. He’d noticed it immediately upon arriving two days ago, massive gates, iron fencing, and ancient magic woven through the grounds like threads of silver smoke.
Old power.
Dangerous power.
Jongseong nodded once. “They protect this village from what lives beyond the mountains.”
“And they treat their son like that?”
A bitter look crossed Jongseong’s face. “Sunghoon’s human.”
Heeseung blinked. “...What?”
“It happens sometimes,” Jongseong said quietly. “Rarely, but it happens. Supernatural families occasionally have human children.”
Heeseung glanced back toward the snowy street. The boy from the market certainly looked human now that he thought about it, fragile in a way the others around the village weren’t. No sharpened senses, no aura of magic, no supernatural scent beneath the cold winter air. Just human.
“And his family resents him for it,” Jongseong continued. “His siblings can all fight, use magic, patrol the borders. Sunghoon can’t.”
“That’s not his fault,” Heeseung protested.
“You think they care?”
Silence settled heavily between them. Outside, snow continued drifting softly past the windows.
Finally, Heeseung asked, “How bad is it?”
Jongseong looked exhausted suddenly. “Bad enough that everyone notices.”
Something cold settled unpleasantly in Heeseung’s chest.
Jongseong continued quietly, “He has stricter curfews than anyone in the village. They make him do most of the labor around the estate. He shows up bruised half the time.” His jaw tightened. “Last winter they made him repair fencing during a blizzard.”
Heeseung stared at him. “And nobody stopped them?”
A sharp laugh escaped Jongseong. “Jaeyun and I tried. Sunoo too. Jungwon threatened to report them to the council.” He looked away briefly. “Sunghoon’s father threatened to withdraw the village’s protection if we interfered again.”
The words landed like stones, because Heeseung understood immediately.
The forests surrounding the village were dangerous. Winter made them worse. Creatures moved closer to populated areas when the snow deepened.
Without the manor family’s protection, people would die.
So everyone stayed quiet, even while watching a boy suffer.
Heeseung looked back out the window again. The market had grown busier now, snow-covered figures moving between glowing lanterns and crowded stalls.
But Sunghoon was gone.
“...That’s pathetic,” Heeseung muttered finally.
Jongseong raised an eyebrow. “The family?”
“The whole situation.”
For a moment, neither of them spoke. Then Jongseong sighed and dropped back into his chair behind the counter. “You’ll get used to it.”
Heeseung’s gaze remained fixed on the snowy street outside. “No,” he said softly.
Something about the answer made Jongseong glance up sharply. But before he could respond, the library door opened with a burst of cold wind and Sunghoon stepped inside carrying another basket.
His cheeks were pink from the cold, snow dusting the shoulders of his coat. He paused immediately upon noticing Heeseung standing near the shelves.
For one brief second, surprise crossed his face. Then he smiled politely, small and careful. Pretty enough that Heeseung immediately understood why the entire village seemed protective of him.
“Sorry,” Sunghoon said softly to Jongseong. “My mother has requested the books she ordered.”
Jongseong stood quickly. “Right. Give me a second.”
As Jongseong disappeared deeper into the shelves, an awkward silence settled between the remaining two.
Sunghoon shifted the basket nervously in his arms. “You’re visiting?” he asked after a moment.
Heeseung nodded. “Unfortunately.”
That earned him the faintest huff of laughter.
Cute, Heeseung thought absently.
Up close, the bruising beneath Sunghoon’s makeup was easier to notice. There was a shadow near his jaw and faint discoloration beneath his collar.
Heeseung felt irritation coil sharply beneath his ribs. Still, Sunghoon smiled at him like none of it existed.
“I hope the village is treating you kindly,” Sunghoon said.
“It is.” He tilted his head slightly. “What about you?”
The question seemed to catch him off guard and Sunghoon just blinked.
Then footsteps sounded upstairs. Immediately, his entire posture changed, becoming tense, frightened, and small.
A man’s voice echoed faintly from outside the library entrance. “Sunghoon.”
Just one word. But Sunghoon flinched like he’d been struck.
“I should go,” he said quickly.
Jongseong reappeared carrying several books wrapped carefully in cloth. His expression darkened the moment he noticed Sunghoon’s face.
“Here,” he said quietly, passing them over.
Sunghoon nodded gratefully before turning toward the door. For one second, he hesitated, then he glanced back toward Heeseung.
“Enjoy your stay,” he said softly.
And then he was gone.
The bell above the library door jingled once before silence returned.
Heeseung stood motionless. Outside the window, he could see Sunghoon crossing the snowy street toward the waiting figure near the carriage.
Even from here, the man beside him looked cold and demanding.
Sunghoon kept his head lowered the entire walk.
Beside him, Jongseong exhaled quietly. “Nobody’s been able to help him,” he said.
Heeseung watched the carriage disappear into the falling snow. Something twisted painfully in his chest.
He didn’t know Sunghoon. He didn’t know the village. He didn’t know why someone with eyes that gentle looked so afraid all the time.
But as the snow continued falling beyond the library windows, Heeseung realized one thing with startling clarity.
He already hated the family waiting for Sunghoon on that hill.