Chapter Text
It was late. The gate surrounding the orphanage was locked, and the building's doors were shut. The last church bell had rung that day, and the only remaining lights were the flickering vigil lamps that hung from the arched ceiling. Everything was dark and quiet except for a strange noise that drew Yoojin towards the church.
That was when he first saw him.
A man dressed in all black with hair as bright as gold. His skin was pale and flawless. The dim lights from the altar embraced him in a heavy hue while leaving the surroundings dark. Angels would’ve wept upon seeing his grace, but Yoojin could tell at first glance this man was a devil in disguise.
From the blood that dripped off his coat onto the pews to the gun hidden on his side, this was a dangerous man who had wandered into Yoojin’s church.
“I don’t intend to cause trouble,” the man said listlessly, as if reading Yoojin’s thoughts. He stared ahead as if waiting for something, not giving Yoojin a glance. “It seemed like a lovely place to rest. I’ll be leaving soon.”
Scared to take his eyes off the strange man for too long, Yoojin quickly glanced at what the man was staring at. While it was a small church in a remote country town, it had once been the heart of the community.
The builders idealized the potential for the church’s construction. Each piece was beautifully handcrafted. The design was envisioned with only the best materials man could find. Not a single detail was made half heartily and as a result, many people had sat right where the stranger sat and looked forward in awe. Many things couldn’t be duplicated with modern tools, so it was truly one of a kind.
Everything from the stone pillars that framed the luminous stained glass windows, the carvings on the altar, and even the pews were breathtaking.
There had been many battles to keep the church standing, but Yoojin had fought against them all. Whether it was against degenerate entrepreneurs who desired to strip the church’s valuables piece by piece. Or an angry mayor who wanted to rezone his church for a golf course. Or a corrupt priest who tried to embezzle funds dedicated to orphans.
Or a man with a bleeding side and gold eyes who came to cause trouble. Yoojin had seen it all before, and he wouldn’t give up his home without a fight.
Yoojin looked back at the man who hadn’t moved. There was no one else around, and he didn’t look threatening at the moment. Yoojin stepped away and ran down the grand hall. His footsteps snapped against the stone.
The strange man relaxed for a moment, but his head snapped around when Yoojin returned, holding a small box.
Yoojin walked through the pews and slowed his steps as he neared him.
The man looked up at Yoojin with creased gold eyes and a tired expression. He looked indifferent that Yoojin dared to approach him, but the back of his head rang in alarm, an unspoken warning that he shouldn’t move closer.
Yoojin swallowed, but his mouth was too dry to erase the itchy sensation in the back of his throat.
He could demand that the man leave, but that would only lead to more trouble. Sometimes asking for peace and quiet led to the loudest protests and the most miserable responses.
It was a little pitiful to think some people lived such twisted lives to come here to take out their frustration. The church called out to the worst people, but not all of them wanted to be helped.
Yoojin cautiously sat next to the man, shifting the box he held in his lap. Inside the box were scattered kid bandages with anime figures, a half-used bottle of alcohol, and the poor remains of a first aid kit. He held out the box, letting the light from the flickering flames catch the items within.
He looked at the man with questioning eyes, asking for permission.
The man did not answer at first, stone-faced and silent. As the wait persisted, Yoojin prepared to retreat. The tense air felt hot. Sweat trickled down his neck, and staring at those gold eyes made him shrink in on himself.
After a long pause, the man sat back and closed his eyes, letting out a short, almost scoff-like breath. “Were you worried about me?”
Yoojin kept a steady composure as the man released his grip on his gun at his side. He did it so smoothly that Yoojin almost didn’t notice. Sweat dampened his forehead. He hadn’t even seen that man reach for it.
“I don’t want you to take this the wrong way,” Yoojin replied, his quiet voice sounding much louder than he intended in the dark church, “but I thought if I helped you then you would leave faster.”
The man laughed so abruptly it sounded more like a grunt, but he quickly grimaced. His lips thinned and his hands clenched the back of the seat as he restrained himself from clutching his injured side.
“If it will put your worries at ease, then have at it,” he said in a rough voice, stretching his arms across the back of the pew. “This much is nothing to me, but I won’t stop you.”
Yoojin nodded and moved aside his coat, lifting his shirt.
After disinfecting the area, Yoojin realized the wound would take more than a few bandages. He pulled the needle, scissors, and gloves out of the sterilized bag and broke the seal on the thread.
His hand hovered over the man’s skin. Hot even at a distance and still bleeding. It looked severe enough that he should be in a hospital instead of a church. What had possessed him to come here instead of receiving proper treatment?
This wasn’t something Yoojin enjoyed, but he had done it enough times that he felt confident it would hold together. It wouldn’t be the prettiest, but if the man wanted quality work, he should’ve gone to a doctor in the first place.
The needle touched his skin, and the man’s chest rose in a quick breath. That was his only response. Besides the sweat accumulating on his forehead.
Yoojin worked as fast as he could. Careful to hold the needle with just the tweezers and not his fingers.
He tried not to rush and to stay focused, but eyes kept wandering up the man’s exposed chest. The deep lines of muscles on his sides were covered in scars. How could a person live such a dangerous life? It felt important to get him out of the church quickly.
Yoojin finished as carefully as possible. Having witnessed how the mafia retaliates if they think they have been slighted, Yoojin didn’t want this man to remember him in a bad light.
“Aren’t you a little young to be a Father?”
His voice startled Yoojin, snatching him out of his focus. He was not prepared to see gold eyes studying him.
“They’re not really my kids,” Yoojin answered. “I’m the director of the town orphanage.”
The man resisted smiling as best he could, fighting back another laugh that would hurt much more while a needle was threading through him.
“I meant—” he nudged his head toward Yoojin’s white collar and black robes, “you’re more profound calling, Father.”
“Oh,” Yoojin mouthed when he realized his true meaning. His cheeks even reddened in a rare moment of embarrassment. “You must not be from around here. I’ve been doing this for over ten years now.”
The man blinked at him. Amazed at such an answer. “You’re whole life?”
“Just about.”
The man sat a little straighter, forgetting about the pain as he found something to suit his interest. “Doesn’t that mean you’ve never…?”
Yoojin felt the instinct to retreat as the other man moved closer. He was looking at him too intensely. “Never…what?” Yoojin asked when he didn’t finish.
The man touched his lips and looked away. “Oh my. I suddenly feel very…wrong for talking to you this casually.”
Yoojin shook his head, finishing the last stitch and putting away his bloody tools. “I’ve heard everything there is. This might be a small town, but you would not believe the confessions simple men make.”
A smile returned to the man’s lips. “Then have you ever been in a fight?”
Yoojin tilted his head. “What’s wrong with fighting? It’s not inherently a sin, and I was young once.”
“Once?” The man held his side as a ripple of laughter shook his chest. Not even the pain could hold back his smile. “Are you sure you’re no older than twenty?”
Yoojin nodded. “I’m twenty-five.”
The man fell silent.
Most people were amazed at Yoojin’s age, but it was easy to brush off once they got to know him. As someone who would rather look after the town orphanage or spend his time filing financial paperwork, everyone just assumed he was a bore. Assuming that Yoojin spent his youth doing mundane things as well and that he would continue to do them until his hair turned white.
But the man was lost in thought.
“Father, can I really ask you anything?”
“If it’s appropriate.” Yoojin braced for the typical, invasive questions he often received.
“Have you ever had a drink?”
“Huh?”
That was his question? Nothing about how a teenager ran a whole church? The legitimacy of the management or suspicion of his age? Not even a racy question like the bolder teens of the town had once gathered the courage to ask?
“We use real wine for our Communion.”
“But have you ever…?”
He lifted his eyes when he didn’t finish. Meeting those golden eyes caused Yoojin’s chest to tingle.
“…drank for fun?”
He shrugged. “Communion’s fun. I haven’t had many opportunities otherwise.”
The man sealed his mouth, but another question came. “Have you ever danced with someone?”
“My brother when I was younger.”
“Driven?”
“I don’t have a license.”
“…”
Yoojin assumed he had run out of questions and returned his focus to the injury.
There weren’t really that many interesting things about his life, and it was easy to lose curiosity. He wiped the wound down with alcohol one last time to prevent infection, then placed a layer of antibiotic ointment over it. Lastly he finished it with some gauze.
While the man was pulling his shirt back into place, he spoke again.
“Are you not bored? Surrounded by the feeling of repetitiveness that’s so dull you need to crawl your way out no matter what? Are you not missing out on life?”
The question felt so out of place that Yoojin almost saw the man as a completely different person. Yoojin crossed his hands over his lap and tried to see the question from someone like his point of view.
What would a gangster, dressed in black, with a large knife wound, in the middle of the night, think of Yoojin’s life?
“Not really,” Yoojin answered, removing his gloves. He looked at the altar. A place he had held his little brother’s hand and smiled and laughed many times. A place he could easily watch over all the orphans. Growing up here had been hard, but he wouldn’t have traded his childhood with his brother for the world.
“This is exactly where I want to be,” Yoojin said.
“Why?”
Yoojin looked at him, but the man wouldn’t return his gaze.
“This is my home. I can’t think of anywhere else I want to be. I get to take care of the orphanage. If you find your purpose in life, the world doesn’t seem as boring. Maybe you just haven’t found what you’re looking for yet.”
The man turned to Yoojin, and for a moment he stared without speaking.
“I keep waiting for you to turn your story into some kind of lecture for me. I’m a little disappointed you’re not.”
Yoojin blinked at him. “Have I crossed a line?”
“Nothing like that.” He shook his head and tested his arm, shifting his side. “Shouldn’t a priest try to convert a dangerous person? Tell me to repent my ways and turn to the church? You haven’t once offered to save me.”
Yoojin squinted his eyes. “Have you heard all this before?”
“Nearly a hundred times.”
“Then…” Yoojin shrugged. “Just pretend I’m the one who said it the hundredth time. Besides, I don’t think you’ll take anything I say seriously.”
The look the man gave him was more intense than before. “Maybe I should try tempting you instead.”
“…I would rather you didn’t.”
“Then how should I pay you back?”
“Leave quickly and don’t return.”
Those bold words caught him off guard, widening his eyes and making him pause for a moment. “I can’t remember the last time someone had been this rude to me. Are you sure you’re a priest?”
“You said you wanted to pay me back. I’m just answering your question honestly.”
He shook his head. “That’s not what a priest should say. You should say: out of the goodness of my heart, I can’t accept anything.”
“You’re not a priest, so you don’t know what we want.”
“You never even asked my name.”
“I’m sure it’s lovely. Can I show you the exit?”
He sealed his lips, fighting not to laugh.
“Since when did they start making priests so charming? Maybe I should start attending church after all.”
Considering that the children from the orphanage also attended this church, the idea repulsed Yoojin. It would make the town gossip and fearful to approach. The headaches it would cause!
Yoojin flinched, nearly backing into the end of the pew as the man leaned closer, stretching his arm over his shoulders.
“I’m Sung Hyunjae.”
Yoojin swallowed, trapped in front of a dangerous gangster. “Father Han Yoojin.”
Sung Hyunjae smiled. “I’ll think of a proper way to thank you, Father.”
He struggled to remember exactly what Sung Hyunjae had said and quoted it back to him. “’Out of the goodness of my heart, I can’t accept anything.’”
“Too late,” Sung Hyunjae said with a smirk. “You already said there was something you wanted, so I must find you something of equal value.”
Yoojin scrambled to deny him, but Sung Hyunjae stood. Standing tall, much taller than Yoojin first estimated. He used the back of the pew to balance himself and take another breath.
“Thank you for everything, Father.”
Anything Yoojin had prepared to say died on his tongue. The sincere look was too much for a young soul like him. It was so easy to fall for a pretty face. In his next sermon, Yoojin was definitely going to warn the congregation that the devil would indeed be handsome.
Yoojin stood, offering Sung Hyunjae his arm for support.
Sung Hyunjae didn’t accept the arm at first. Even after receiving help, he still held onto his untrusting nature. Most likely a result of living an evil life for so long, where he couldn’t depend on anyone.
But in the end, he took Yoojin’s arm, and they walked to the door together.
“Oh, wait.” Yoojin stopped and reached into the box he had tucked under his arm. He fumbled through the old, nearly empty box for something important. “Here.”
He held out a small pouch.
Sung Hyunjae took it into his hand and looked at it.
“You should see a doctor if anything looks infected tomorrow, but this will help with the pain,” Yoojin said after handing Sung Hyunjae two fever reducers. They might’ve been nearing their expiration date. “I hope you’re not expecting anything more. It’s all we have.”
Sung Hyunjae’s lip twitched. “I see…”
Yoojin tilted his head. “Is something wrong?”
Sung Hyunjae was holding the small bag of medicine close to his chest, and Yoojin couldn’t help notice how sad he looked. The insignificant gesture seemed to affect Sung Hyunjae for some reason.
“I’m sorry we don’t have anything better,” Yoojin muttered. For the first time, he felt ashamed that he couldn’t offer more to him.
Sung Hyunjae closed his fist around the pouch. “I assure you, Father, this is more than I deserve. You are too kind to a sinner like me.”
“Everyone deserves help.”
“…I guess you’re right.”
Yoojin pointed to the door. “Now please don’t come back.”
Sung Hyunjae laughed once again, ignoring his injuries. Yoojin had to push him out the door just to shut it in his face.