Chapter Text
Hwang Hyunjin was born on a clear, starry night.
His mother was sweating as the handmaiden helped deliver the baby, her husband patiently holding her hand. It was not immediately obvious, but the handmaiden and the father both soon realized that his complexion was a little different from the other babies they’ve seen in the town. Instead of black hair and black eyes, the baby in her arms had light, golden hair and crimson red eyes. The handmaiden was slightly frightened, but decided to keep her composure and simply handed the baby over to the father, who then handed it to the mother.
Hyunjin’s mother did not care, did not immediately notice just how different her son was. She only knew that he was hers, that she would adore him.
Hyunjin cried in his mother’s arms and from then on, the couple’s lives changed forever.
-
The oddity of Hyunjin’s looks did not go unnoticed.
Especially not when the deity their city has always worshipped was known for their light hair and red eyes, depicted as an unparalleled beauty who transcended human nature. There were countless tales of the deity’s bravery, wit, and charm. Of their gentleness, their mercy, and their love of nature and their people. It was said that it was their strength that fortified the city walls.
Sooner than later, people began crowding their humble home, impatient to get a glance of the boy who resembled their beloved deity. Hyunjin’s parents were averse to this attention, but his mother did not mind as much as his father did. Because though she was just as worried about what this means for his, for their future, she could not help but to be happy that her son was adored by so many.
-
Word of the miraculous child reached the temple up on the hill not too long after.
The priests, dawning their red and white garb, visited the home as a convoy, their long sleeves fluttering in the wind as they walked.
Then they asked Hyunjin’s parents for a favor. Once he stopped breastfeeding, he was to be raised in the temple. “Why?” They had asked. “Will we be allowed to see him?” They pleaded.
The priests reasoned that it was for their own safety, that enemies of the city would come for him in time. Whispers that Hyunjin was an incarnation of the deity had already reached far and wide. It did not matter if he were just a normal boy, that what made him special was both a blessing and a curse.
For the people of the city, he was like a gift, a miracle, a symbol of hope. For those who wanted to breach the city’s walls, he was a point of weakness. They would come for him and his family first.
So with a heavy heart they agreed, but begged from the priests for more time with their boy. To spend at least his first five years of life with him. And of course to still occasionally see him even after he was taken to be raised at the temple.
This time it was the priests who reluctantly agreed.
Unfortunately, this decision came with a cost.
-
Hyunjin was barely three when their time together was cut short.
It was a rainy night and some scouts from a rivaling town sneaked past some guards to breach the city wall. Hyunjin’s home was not too close to the walls, but the priests had been right, they wanted to kill him first.
His father fought and his mother ran as far as she could take him. As soon as she was out of the intruders’ sight, she ran into a stranger’s house in a narrow alley and begged them to hide him. After kissing Hyunjin goodbye for the last time, she ran out again with a sack of rice she asked the homeowners for, pretending to be still holding him. Hyunjin did not understand anything yet, but he cried and cried, the homeowners desperately trying to calm him down.
The city guards were alerted of the surprise attack soon after, and they captured and chased off the attackers successfully. Everyone thanked the deity that there were not too many wounded or dead, but Hyunjin’s parents were the few who were not so lucky.
After dawn broke, as the city guards surveyed to assess the damage, they found a house with an open door and a man lying in his own pool of blood. They found a woman in a dark alley clutching a blood stained sack, and not all too far from her, a frightened family with a toddler that wasn’t theirs.
That was how Hyunjin came to live at the temple up on the hill, two years earlier than he was supposed to.
-
He was not an unruly child, but the first few weeks were hard for both him and the priests who lived there. Hyunjin did not have many words to explain his confusion, sadness, and anger due to the lack of his parents’ presence, but he sure did show it. He cried and trashed around, refusing to be fed or bathed or to sleep, constantly asking for his parents with the few words he did know.
For that period of time, the usually serene temple grounds were regularly disturbed by the wails of a child. He would only stop crying when his throat was too hoarse to make a sound or when he was finally too tired and fell asleep.
It took maybe a month until Hyunjin calmed down. It was as if he understood that his parents were not coming back, resigned to that fate.
He began to cling to the young priest who was most patient and gentle with him, grabbing on the edge of his sleeve or the bottom of his coat with his tiny hands, hoping that he would not be left alone again.
-
As he was a well behaved boy, the priests allowed him to watch the rituals, but he was not allowed to be seen by people very often. He would usually watch from a faraway window how the citizens would come bring their offerings and pray to the deity. He did not yet fully understand why he was brought to that temple and what had happened to his parents, that would come with time, but he did understand that he was different.
Different from the kids who waddled behind their parents to the altar, sometimes rowdy, sometimes shy, or sometimes simply exhausted from the hike. They would present their own little offerings: a fruit, small pieces of copper or gold, or maybe little paper crafts in different shapes.
When Hyunjin was five and asked why he didn’t do the same, the young priest who often accompanied him only said, “Your duty is different, Hyunjin. You too will honor the deity in time, just not like that.”
Hyunjin was also five when the priests began showing him books and scrolls, trying to explain to him about how the world was created. How the creator assigned his first creations places to take care of, to nurture, and to help grow. How some obeyed dutifully and how some didn’t. Of good and evil, of duty and offerings, of rituals and sacrifices. Hyunjin did not understand most of it, but it seemed like they did not expect him to.
-
Hyunjin was seven when they started to teach him how to do the rituals.
He had always watched them from afar, but this time he was allowed to watch them closely. Sometimes he had to be on his tiptoes to watch the priest perform the rituals on the elevated platform, a stage. And later when they were finished, he would go with one of the priests to an empty hall and practice the order and the movements. A lot of them were rigid and fixed.
Kneel. Bow. Place. Pour. Ring. Pray.
But there were also parts where they were not.
Hyunjin especially loved the part where he got to move freely, to dance.
Aside from prayers and offerings, he learned, this too was another form of honoring their deity.
Dancing in the empty hall, he wondered who he was trying to pray to if the altar wasn’t there. He only realized that he wondered out loud when the priest training him answered,
“You are honoring them, still, but once you do it in front of others, Hyunjin, you will become an example. A beacon that people will follow, that’s why you have to learn to do it properly.”
Hyunjin simply nodded and kept going.
The priests would sometimes scold him for improvising instead of following the steps that they taught him, but Hyunjin couldn’t help how his feet seemed to move like they had a mind of their own.
-
Hyunjin was eight when he started noticing his similarities with the deity.
The priests had never explicitly mentioned it, but he soon figured it out himself. Why he was kept hidden for the most part, why he wasn’t allowed out of the temple grounds, why people would sometimes try to steal glances of him.
He also realized that the way the deity was drawn, carved, and described varied slightly from time to time, place to place.
On the altar, the statue represented someone of a slender stature, eyes sharp like a fox, the pupils painted red. The skin, made out of the finest of stones, was unblemished and pale, safe for their eyes, lips, and cheeks. The garb they were wearing was similar to what the priests wore, but with more red than white, and embroidered with intricate depictions of the landscape surrounding the city and the animals that lived in them.
Their golden hair reached their shoulders, with half of it tied up in a neat bun, the finest of jewelries adorning it. Their features were neither too masculine nor too feminine, they were mostly angular, sharp, their pointed nose and jaw carved so perfectly it looked like it would make you bleed if you touched it. And yet there was softness there too, a roundness to their cheeks and a fullness to their lips.
Hyunjin remembered looking up to that statue and feeling like he was looking up to an older sibling that he never knew.
Crucially, this was the depiction of the deity that most people knew of, the one they prayed to.
But in the scrolls and books, in the other carvings on the temple’s windows and eaves, it would vary slightly. Sometimes they would look a little more masculine, strong and muscular, like a warrior protecting the city. Sometimes they were more gentle and feminine, on the edge of a lotus pond holding a blooming flower, symbolizing how they nurtured and cared for their land, motherly. But their golden hair and red eyes would always stay the same.
As he grew up, Hyunjin would watch over time in the mirror how his features grew more and more similar to that of the deity’s statue, and wondered what that meant. He wouldn’t presume that he was special in that way. He certainly didn’t feel it, but it occupied his thoughts all the same.
And yet, the question never dared leave his lips.
However, he did notice that everytime the priests would cut his hair, they would only ever cut it to his shoulders.
-
Hyunjin was ten when he made his first real friends.
He had now lived twice as long without his parents than with them, but he wouldn’t say that he was lonely. The birds in the forest and the priests in the temple were good enough company, he would try to tell himself. Yet deep down, he still longed for something more.
It was a spring evening when he wandered off to the edge of the temple grounds. He only meant to find a place to read that was not the reading room that he had seen a thousand times over, but he accidentally found an opening that led to a small path that led to the boundary of the temple. There was a small door on this section of the wall, somehow unlocked.
It led to a downhill path, bright and inviting.
There was a raging curiosity in him, something that pulled him to the world outside the grounds, but fear overcame him every time he came too close.
He had asked once, when he was around eight or nine, why he was forbidden to go out of the temple grounds or why the priests barely ever left them either.
They said that for them, it was their home, their duty, to care for, to protect, just like the deity did the land. And for Hyunjin, more than anything, it was for his own safety.
Though they did not elaborate, Hyunjin somehow understood. He did not remember much of his first few years of life, of the time he spent with his parents, but somehow, cruelly, he did remember the ending of that period.
He remembered his mother’s grief stricken face as she ran with him in her embrace, both of them getting soaked by the cold, heavy rain. He remembered the last moments he saw her alive, the way tears welled up in the corner of her eyes as she said goodbye to him and ran back into the dark city streets.
As painful as it was to admit, he knew that he was probably the reason why his parents were dead, why they were killed.
And in spite of his hardships, in spite of his loneliness, Hyunjin did not want to die, nor did he want to get more people killed. So obediently, he stayed within the temple walls. But sometimes there were moments like this one where curiosity would almost overcome him.
But only ever almost.
Usually he would snap back and be reminded of his responsibility, of his duty. This time he was just about to clench his first and turn around too, like always. That is until, out of nowhere, a face popped out from behind the gate.
“Hello?”
Both the greeting and the inquisitive face of the boy startled Hyunjin.
“Oh, sorry, I-“
The boy seemed a little older, but he looked in awe when he said, “oh, woah, you- you must be Hyunjin.”
Hyunjin did not meet many people outside of the priests, but he was used to this reaction the few times that he did. They always knew his name before he knew theirs.
So Hyunjin just nodded, not knowing if he was allowed to speak to him. The priests always warned him to stay away from strangers, not to talk to them.
“I’m Chan. It’s nice to meet you,” he said with a bright smile, radiant like the sun. And Hyunjin was supposed to be the one who resembled a deity?
Hyunjin nodded again, this time in acknowledgment. Because he technically knew who this boy was. He too had often come with his family to pray and bring offerings. And Hyunjin often saw his father converse with the priests too. He was the chief of the town, if he was not mistaken.
The older boy frowned. “Could it be that… you can’t talk?”
“I can!” Hyunjin protested, and his hands automatically moved to cover his mouth when he did.
The older boy looked a little stunned, but then he broke into laughter.
“Is it that you just didn’t want to?” He said in between his chuckles. “You could've just told me, you know.”
“I don’t know if I’m allowed,” Hyunjin muttered. “To talk to you, that is.”
Chan frowned again. “Why not?”
“They said that I have to always be really careful. There might be people who want to do bad things to me.”
Chanhee looked a little sad, but for some reason he chose to smile, maybe to comfort Hyunjin. “I promise I won’t do anything bad to you.”
Before Hyunjin could reply, another boy –a little younger, probably around his age– popped in from behind the gate. “Chan-hyung! What are you-“
His mouth formed a perfect ‘O’ when he saw Chan conversing with Hyunjin, blonde hair, red eyes, and all. “Oh.”
“Yongbok, hey,” Chan greeted him, a little awkward.
Yongbok slowly walked closer to them, seemingly in awe. “…Is that- Is it really him?”
Chan smacked the younger boy lightly in the head when he got close enough.
“His name is Hyunjin.”
“I know.” Yongbok pouted at Chan while rubbing his head before turning to Hyunjin, smiling somehow perhaps even brighter than Chan. “Hi, I’m Lee Yongbok. Nice to meet you!”
“Hwang Hyunjin,” Hyunjin replied dazedly. So much was happening to him so suddenly and he felt a little overwhelmed.
“Nice to meet you Hyunjin, you want to come play with us?” Yongbok asked, before adding, “Minho-hyung is being mean and doesn’t want to come play again.”
“I-“ I shouldn’t. “I don't know if I’m allowed to.”
He knew. He did know that he wasn’t allowed to, but some part of him tugged and tugged, telling him to ignore the adults, the priests, to ignore the rules, to reach for the childhood he secretly dreamed of.
Hyunjin did not want to hurt anyone, nor did he want to hurt himself, but maybe he was lonely, he was.
“Why wouldn’t you be allowed to?” Yongbok titled his head to the side, confused. “But nevermind that, we’re good at keeping secrets anyway!”
Secrets…was it okay for Hyunjin to keep secrets? He knew of sacrifice, how great a virtue that was. The priests told him that what Hyunjin was doing —staying at the temple, diligently spending his days learning and practicing the rituals— was a sacrifice, a virtuous act. But he did not know of secrets. What of them? Were they a sin or a virtue?
“Yongbok…we shouldn’t get him into trouble,” Chan scolded him. “It’s probably for his own safety.”
“Oh come on, Chan-hyung, what else are boys our age supposed to do if not get in trouble?” Yongbok said with a mischievous glint in his eyes.
Chan sighed. It seemed like he was used to Yongbok and his troublesome ideas.
“Please? Don’t you want to play with him? I know you’ve always been curious about him,” Yongbok added, snickering.
Hyunjin simply watched as Chan shot a glare at Yongbok, his cheeks turning a little red. With one last sigh, he eventually gave in. “Alright, fine, he can come, but only if he wants to.”
The two boys looked at Hyunjin expectantly and suddenly it felt like he was on a stage with hundreds of people watching him, watching his every move.
Of course Hyunjin wanted to go. But he shouldn’t. Shouldn’t want it, shouldn’t even think of it. And he definitely shouldn't do it. Wasn’t he of the gods, for the gods? Wasn’t this exactly what he had to sacrifice for his and everyone’s safety?
Still, when Yongbok held out his hand and asked, “So, what say you, Hyunjin? Coming?”, he could not bear to sacrifice anymore.
Hyunjin took Yongbok’s hand, nodding wordlessly. He could not muster the words, didn’t dare to say yes out loud, but he knew that his life would change from then on.
The summer when he was ten, Hyunjin stepped outside of the boundaries of the temple for the first time.