#wong kunhang fluff | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

starlightkun · 6 months

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➠ word count: 22.0k ➠ warnings: cursing, mentions of drinking (there’s a frat party), everything i know about hockey is from internet research for this fic i’m sorry for any inaccuracies i tried ➠ genre: fluff, gets quite suggestive (a heavy makeout scene/near sex scene) but no actual smut, college au, hockey captain sungchan, chronically ill reader (chronic migraines), halloween-themed at the beginning, sungchan’s not a frat boy but he’s like... a frat boy by association ➠ extra info: the ages/relative ages of the members in here are whatever i want them to be, don’t read into it too much. this is a very usamerican take on a college au btw. also i call kunhang ‘hendery’ in here like it’s his government name for a one-line gag bc i think i’m hilarious the reader in this has chronic migraines, which i have. when the reader’s migraines and thoughts/experiences as a chronically ill person are described, that is me writing directly from my own life. i am not generalizing the lives of all people with chronic migraines and chronic illness, but i am sending all my love to any readers out there living with a chronic illness, and here’s a reminder to go take your meds ➠ author’s note: hi so this has been a wip for like a year lol. this one long predates sungchan’s deneofication (and subsequent re-debut in riize), hockey player sungchan just lives in my brain rent free ok. anyway, i hope you like ➠ series masterlist

“You agreed to go to a frat party?” Chenle’s eyes were bugging out of his head as he sat across a high top in the dining hall from you. “Do you remember what happened last time, Y/N?”

“Hard to forget,” you snorted.

“And yet it seems you did, somehow, lost in dreamboat Jung Sungchan’s eyes.”

FRIDAY, OCTOBER 24

“Now shoo!” Dr. Son waved the small group of you out of his dimly lit office.

It was Phantasmagorical Phriday, a time-honored tradition going back to your freshman year of university. Dr. Son had been intrigued by the four freshmen who were somehow in his third-year class on Gothic Fiction and actually seemed to “get it.” His “Phantasma Phour” as you dubbed yourselves (a nickname that got quickly worn out, persisting only as the title of your groupchat):

Wong Hendery, who ended up in the class accidentally due to an error on his academic advisor’s part (she had gotten him mixed up with a Wong Henry, a junior Literature major who actually needed to take Dr. Son’s class) and he subsequently changed majors at least three times to your knowledge, so you were genuinely surprised he was graduating on time—he finally settled on Communications;

Jung Sungchan, at the time a promising young rookie hockey player who had now blossomed into your school’s reliable team captain—Biology major, being an athlete meant he could pre-register for classes and he picked Dr. Son’s at random to fulfill a gen ed Literature credit;

Zhong Chenle, an honorary member of both Nu Chi Tau, one of the biggest frats on campus, and the hockey team, as somehow 95% of his social circle were Nu Chi brothers and/or hockey players despite Chenle being neither himself, your best friend and also sometimes you swear a demon sent straight from hell to kill you—Literature major, who bullied you into taking the class; and

You, Chenle’s best friend who used to hate anything and everything Gothic fiction that got bullied into taking it anyway and now adored the genre more than any other—Literature major, who took the last spot in the class on registration day.

Dr. Son would invite you all to monthly extracurricular workshops in his office that built up to this: Phantasmagorical Phriday, a writing competition to see which of the four of you could write the best gothic short story. The stories were actually submitted the prior week, but it was the Friday before Halloween that was dubbed the Phriday in question. The four of you were invited to his office that night after classes (and Sungchan’s hockey practice) to review your pieces: how he thought everyone had improved from last year, discuss the writing process, and to finish off the night, Dr. Son would announce his top two stories. Those in the top two had the chance to send him a persuasive letter about why they should win. They had to be sent to him that night because the next morning, your professor would email the top two individually with the results.

Since this was your last Phantasmagorical Phriday, Dr. Son pretended not to see when Hendery brought out four celebratory White Claws for you all. You still had your warm, unopened, orange-flavored seltzer in your hand as the small group of you left the Literature, Writing, and Foreign Languages building together.

“I still can’t believe you couldn’t find anything classier for our last Phantasmagorical Phriday, Hendery.” You shook your head. “Ever heard of champagne? Literally any wine?”

“So you’re not gonna shotgun that, Y/N, is what I’m hearing?” Hendery teased as you all stopped under the light post right outside the building.

“Is that a challenge or what, Wong?” You scoffed, handing it back to him. “But no, I’m good.”

Sungchan thankfully cut in and changed the topic of conversation, “So are you going to start writing your letter of reconsideration, Y/N?”

This year’s top two were you and Sungchan, the member of the Phantasma Phour you spoke to the least. Outside of the monthly “workshops” (which at this point with your differing majors were just get-togethers of questionable academic value), you never saw him. You obviously saw Chenle all the time, and despite the fact that you considered him a bit obnoxious, you were sort of friends with Hendery, joining him for lunch if you happened to see him at the student union or at the coffee shop on campus. Sungchan was perfectly nice and all, you just found that you never really talked to him like the other two.

You looked down at your watch, taking a quick inhale when you saw the time. You’d stayed in Dr. Son’s office a lot later than you’d realized.

“Oh, no,” you casually waved off Sungchan’s question, readjusting your tote bag on your shoulder. “I’ve got something more pressing right now. Anyway, see you guys. It was a good four years, I’m glad we got to do this.”

Lifting your hand in a wave of finality to the three men, you departed.

“She’s really not going to submit a letter?” Sungchan asked, still watching after you as your figure faded away in the distance.

“Nope,” Chenle shook his head, reaching for the spare White Claw in Hendery’s hand. “Y/N never does.”

“You didn’t know that?” Hendery questioned the hockey player, holding the drink away from Chenle.

“Why not?”

“She’s not in it to win really.” Chenle lunged for the can as Hendery jerked it away at the last second. “Just wants to make stuff.”

“So she was lying about doing something?”

Hendery and Chenle were now running circles around Sungchan in their game of keep-away with the seltzer.

“No.”

“What do you—” Sungchan sighed, yanking the drink from Hendery’s grasp and holding it high above his own head, well out of either of their reaches. “Hey!”

Now with their attention, the hockey captain kept his arm straight up as he returned to his question, “What are you talking about, Chenle?”

“Y/N does have something pressing right now. If I tell you where she’s probably going will you give me the White Claw?” Chenle bargained.

“You’d exchange your best friend’s location for an orange White Claw? Not even watermelon?” Hendery asked incredulously.

“It’s Sungchan, someone we’ve known for like four years, not some creep off the street who’s going to wear her skin.”

“No, Chenle, you don’t have to tell me that,” Sungchan shook his head, offering the can out for either one to take.

The Literature major was able to snatch it first, jumping up in celebration, “Suck an egg, Hendery!”

“I wouldn’t—” Sungchan’s words were too late though, as Chenle had already popped the tab, and the overly-shaken seltzer exploded all over all three of them.

“Zhong Chenle, I’m going to strangle you, you little weasel!”

“Ah! Sungchan, save me!”

“I would, except you got fucking orange White Claw in my eyes and I’m fucking blind now! Goddamn!”

SATURDAY, OCTOBER 25

Rolling over in bed the next morning, you let out a big sigh and buried your face in your pillow, fully intent on going back to sleep. Saturday morning. No school, no work. Just you, your bed, and some much-needed sleep.

Then, the obnoxious blaring of your phone came from your nightstand. You groaned, reaching blindly for the object, and barely opening one eye just enough to snooze it. Damn, you really had slept in, to be woken up by your first medication alarm. Well, you weren’t going to die if you took your morning doses fifteen minutes later than normal. You were about to stuff your phone under your pillow when you briefly caught sight of your lockscreen after the alarm disappeared.

Text notification from Jung Sungchan?

Flopping onto your back and bringing your phone with you, you squinted against the harsh light of your screen to make sure you were reading that right. Yep, Sungchan had definitely texted you a few hours ago, separate from the Phantasma Phour chat. At almost 7:00 a.m., too. What the hell?

Curiosity won out over a need to sleep for fourteen more minutes, and you opened the notification.

[jung sungchan: Congrats, Y/N!]

You stared blankly at the text, your groggy mind desperately grasping around for any sort of context as to why Jung Sungchan would be texting you that at 7:00 a.m. on a Saturday. Then it struck you like lightning, and you let out an audible “Oh, duh!” as you remembered where you both were last night. Phantasmagorical Phriday. The writing contest. You and Sungchan were the top two. Dr. Son must have sent the email out already, and apparently you had won.

Normally, you wouldn’t check your school email on the weekend until Sunday night, unless you were waiting to hear back from a specific professor—and the Sunday night check was just to see if any of your Monday classes were cancelled. Lord knows you definitely wouldn’t have checked it at seven in the morning on a Saturday. You let out a snort of disbelief as you reread the timestamp on the text. But still, it was nice of him. A good show of sportsmanship, as one would expect from the hockey captain.

You quickly checked your own student email, and did in fact see an email from Dr. Son at the very top with the subject ‘PHINAL PHANTASMAGORICAL PHRIDAY RESULTS.’

‘Y/N and Sungchan:

Thank you again for your submissions. I enjoyed working with everyone these four years.

The winner this year is Y/N. Good job.

Dr. Son.’

An amused smile crept across your face at your professor’s usual blunt email style. But this was also some of the nicest feedback he’d given your writing, even when you had won Phantasmagorical Phriday in the past, or in classes that you’d taken from him over the years. Something about it truly did feel... final.

And so with an odd bittersweetness, you drafted an equally short and blunt email back to your professor.

‘Dr. Son:

Thank you for taking us on these past four years. I will never forget the experience.

Y/L/N Y/N.’

Then finally, you went back to the original reason that you were even doing this.

[you: thanks, sungchan!]

Then, your alarm went off again, making you jump out of your skin. Well, time for your morning meds.

MONDAY, OCTOBER 27

A tall figure was nearing the corner table you had claimed in one of the campus coffee shops the following Monday afternoon, and you looked up from your laptop screen, a little surprised at who it was. Jung Sungchan was standing at the end of your table, black flannel over a graphic t-shirt and dark wash jeans, one backpack strap slung over his shoulder. He had an iced coffee in one hand.

You paused the movie playing on your laptop, taking out both your headphones as you looked up at him inquisitively, “Uh hi, Sungchan.”

“Hi, Y/N.”

“Are you here to study or something?”

“Mm.” He couldn’t seem to meet your eyes. “Not really. Just grabbing a coffee and saw you. Do you mind if I sit with you for a bit?”

“Oh, sure. I’m waiting out the storm to leave,” you gestured to the near-constant downpour that had started right after you’d arrived over two hours ago. Noticing that some of Sungchan’s hair and shoulders were damp, you added, “The storm you apparently got caught in without an umbrella.”

“Oh, yeah,” he ran a hand through his hair to push some of it away from where it had been falling into his eyes.

“I don’t mind having some company while I wait.”

To your surprise, instead of sitting across from you, Sungchan plopped himself onto the same bench that you were on, one leg slung over either side so he could face you directly.

You picked up the mug in front of you, your second cup of your drink of choice. You’d gotten a refill after it became clear that the rain wasn’t letting up any time soon. Sungchan was already a third of the way done with his iced coffee as you blew over your hot drink before taking a small sip. He glanced up at you, and you felt like you were going to choke on the uncomfortable silence. So you took a gamble. Turning in your seat to face him as well, you hiked a knee up onto the bench, bringing your mug with you.

“Do you want to ask me something, Sungchan?”

The hockey player startled, having to catch himself from nearly choking on his coffee. Seems like you were right. Sungchan finally stopped sucking down his drink, setting it down on the table and wiping his palms on the knees of his jeans. “I heard that you never sent in a letter to Dr. Son. Any year you were a top two.”

“Oh, yeah, nah.”

“Why not?”

“Didn’t seem worth it,” you shrugged.

“What?”

“Every year I participated I wanted my work to stand on its own two legs. After the death of the author, that’s all that’s left, right? The work. It has to speak for itself.”

“Oh,” Sungchan nodded, then squinted his eyes, confusion entirely overtaking his features. “Wait, what?”

“Sorry, I don’t know how much Lit Theory you’ve done. Probably not a lot as a Bio major, huh? Death of the author is both literal and metaphorical. Removing what the author meant to do or say with a text from how you actually interpret the text as the reader. It’s a lot easier when they’re actually dead, but the abstract concept is practiced when they’re alive too. It’s… seeing the text as separate from authorial intent. Mind you, it’s only one tool in a literary critic’s arsenal, but I liked it for our Gothic fiction class. All the authors we read in that class, they’d been gone for a while, we had no way to know what they really meant when they wrote all that stuff. And it didn’t really matter for our purposes. All we did have was what they wrote, and that was enough for me. So the same should be enough for whoever reads the stuff I write. Even if it’s just Dr. Son.”

“Huh.”

“Though I guess I just explained myself a little, oops,” you laughed at yourself, taking another sip from your steaming mug. “I’m getting less and less mysterious by the second, aren't I?”

“Chenle made it sound like you didn’t care about winning,” Sungchan asked, cheek in hand.

You arched an eyebrow at this. “You asked Chenle about me?”

“W-Well you left so fast after we saw Dr. Son, and you two are you know...”

“Oh he’s my best friend,” you clarified for perhaps the ten-thousandth time in your life. “And while others may use any litany of swears for him and Hendery calls him a little weasel, I prefer ‘actual demon sent from Hell to kill me.’”

“What?” Sungchan’s eyes widened.

“He pushes me out of my comfort zone. In a good way, most of the time.”

“Got it. Then what do you do for him? If he’s your yang…”

“I’m entertainment?” You snorted, taking another sip of your drink. After setting it back down, you answered more sincerely, “I’m kidding. Sometimes it feels like that but I did ask him one time a couple years ago, when he was tipsy enough that I believed the words coming out of his mouth but not so drunk that it was unintelligible. ‘A safe place.’ And since then… I can see it in us. That’s my yin to him.”

He smiled softly at you. “That’s... really nice.”

“Sorry, what were you asking me before that?”

“Oh, uh— Chenle said you really didn’t care about winning Dr. Son’s contest, you just wanted to make stuff? That’s why you didn’t submit a letter.”

“Generally, sure. Winning would’ve been great, but I didn’t write what I thought Dr. Son wanted. I took all of his feedback with a grain of salt. Took stuff that I liked from him, took stuff I liked from other profs I had. Mixed and matched to make something that was mine.” You pressed your lips together, then leaned forward like you were about to tell him a secret, “I didn’t live for Phantasmagorical Phriday, Sungchan. You do know that, right?”

“Wow,” he blinked, seeming a bit disoriented. “I’ve never really thought about… you like that.”

“Well to be fair to you, you only ever knew me there and in Dr. Son’s class. Makes it hard not to think of me only through that lens. All you know about me is that I presumably like Gothic fiction and I’m a Lit major, right?”

“Right.”

“So what do you think I was doing here before you showed up?”

“…Reading Edgar Allan Poe.”

You couldn’t help but laugh at that, turning your laptop screen to show the paused movie to him, “I was watching Pacific Rim.”

His jaw literally dropped, and you felt the need to save him at least a little. Grabbing a book from your bag, you held it up, “I did come here initially to finish reading this new mystery novel I just got, but then the storm came and I had nothing else to do after I was done with the book.”

“But still… you’re so…”

“I have interests outside the one class we took together?”

“Smart,” he finished, an absolutely adorable expression of wonder across his face.

You weren’t expecting that, surprised giggles bubbling up out of you as you felt yourself growing warm under his awestruck gaze.

“Anyway, your turn,” you tapped his knee with your book before putting it back in your bag.

“For what?”

“To expand my horizons of you. All I know about you is that you’re the hockey captain, and a Bio major who took a gothic fiction class one time like three years ago. Show me you’re a multifaceted individual, too.”

“Uhm, that’s about it.”

“Oh come on, Sungchan.”

“No really, if I’m not on the ice, I’m in class; if I’m not in class, I’m with my team; and if I’m not with my team, I’m studying.”

“You’re here, right now,” you pointed out. “Last I checked I’m not on your hockey team, and we’re not studying. You have to do one thing that’s not for school or hockey. My thing was just watching Pacific Rim this one time, remember?”

“Alright…” he paused to think, fingers tapping along his thighs. “I used to play the piano.”

“Past tense, but I’ll accept it. When did you stop?”

“High school? Around when piano lessons and hockey practice started conflicting.”

“And you chose hockey?” You asked, hoping it didn’t sound judgmental. You really were just curious, trying to understand him.

“Actually, the choice was made for me.” He held his right hand out in front of you, and it was then that you saw his pinky finger was unnaturally crooked as he pointed to the digit. “I broke it in a game without even realizing it. Bruises and stiffness sometimes are normal so me and my parents didn’t know anything was up until weeks later when I was fucking up all the notes at my piano lessons because it still hurt. By the time I finally saw a doctor and got a splint on it, it set up wrong. All dexterity for piano out the window. Hockey on the other hand… guys have done a lot more with a lot less.”

You couldn’t help but curiously run a gentle fingertip over the crook in his pinky. “Does it hurt at all? Now?”

“Not really.” He went to bend and flex the fingers of his right hand, and you saw how the fifth finger didn’t curl up as much as the others. “It’s just a lot stiffer. Doesn’t bother me all that much.”

He brought his left hand up and wiggled the fingers on that hand. “Besides, I’m a lefty anyway.”

“So—apologies if this sounds like a stupid question to you, I don’t know anything about hockey—are there like, different hockey sticks for left-handed and right-handed players?”

Sungchan immediately broke into snickers, and you set down your mug to cross your arms over your chest indignantly.

“Hey, I didn’t laugh at you for not knowing what death of the author was—”

“I wasn’t making fun of you, I’m sorry,” he covered his mouth. “That was just… too cute. Uhm yes, there are lefty and righty sticks.”

You had to bite down your bottom lip to not smile at him calling you cute, and instead keep up your ruse of being offended. “I feel patronized.”

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry.” There was still a hint of a giggle in his tone, and you felt your self-righteous façade slip away as he continued, “You should come to a game, then, if you really want to broaden your horizons. The season just started. First home game is this Thursday, actually. 7:00 p.m. and students get free admission with your student ID.”

“Thursday?”

“Fridays are for basketball, Saturdays are for football.”

“Oh. Right.”

“You don’t go to those games either, do you?”

“Oh no, did I make it obvious?” You asked sarcastically.

“A bit,” Sungchan jested back.

Outside the window visible past Sungchan, the rain had let up a few minutes ago, and you briefly glanced over at your laptop for the time. Shit, your next alarm was going to be going off soon. If you left now, you should be home at roughly the right time for your next dose.

Clicking your tongue, you started packing up your things, “Well, looks like the rain’s finally let up enough to allow me safe passage. That’s my cue.”

“Oh.” The hockey player with you looked over his shoulder at the newly sunny day outside before turning back to watch you put your things away.

“Are you heading out too?” You nodded to his empty cup.

“I’ve uh, got some homework to do.”

“Guess this is where we part ways then.”

“Um, you didn’t say if you were going. To the game.”

You tucked your chin to your chest to hide your smitten smile as you put your laptop in your bag. Typically just asking for the details would’ve been taken for a yes, but Sungchan wanted extra confirmation. This boy wasn’t good for your heart, truly.

Turning back to him, you gave him a firm and nearly business-like nod. “Yeah, I’ll be there.”

A bright grin lit up his features. “Okay! Great! Uhm, feel free to bring some friends, I know just sitting in the stands by yourself might be lonely.”

“I’ll see if I can drag somebody else out. It’ll be a tall order, though. Literature majors, you know, we prefer our Shakesperean poetry readings.”

“Oh, well—”

“I’m kidding,” you laughed and stood then, slinging your tote onto your shoulder. “Honestly, have you seen Chenle at a rager? Boy can drink twice his body weight I swear. He shouldn’t, but he can.”

Before you could reach for your cup and saucer to buss your place, the hockey captain spoke up, “I’ll take care of your mug, don’t worry.”

“Oh, thanks, Sungchan! I’ll see you Thursday then.”

“Bye…” Sungchan trailed off, watching the door long after it had closed behind you.

He didn’t actually have any homework to do, and scrolled on his phone for a few minutes to make sure you were out of the area before leaving himself. He grabbed his long-empty plastic cup and your mug. His went in the trash, and as he went to put yours up with the other dishes and trays, his eyes were caught by the iridescent glitters left behind on the rim by your lip gloss.

[you: hey what are you doing thursday at 7:00?]

[chenle: depends on what weird poetry reading you’re trying to drag me to]

[you: not this time. Sungchan’s hockey game?]

[chenle: you want to go to a sporting event?? why????]

[you: i told him i’d go please don’t make me go by myself]

[chenle: did you offer to go or did he ask you to come?]

[you: he asked me to? i guess?]

[chenle: haha yeah fuck no i’m not going with you]

[you: why not????????]

[chenle: a guy invited you to one of his games? yeah no way am i coming with you]

[you: what difference does that make? you’re seriously going to make me go to a hockey game by myself?]

[chenle: i don’t know how to tell you this gently so: he wants to fuck you]

[you: bro???]

[chenle: especially hockey? caveman brain is activated, he wants to show off how big and strong he is for you over the other males]

[you: damn can’t believe i just blinked and woke up in 200 BC]

[chenle: i’m warning you, only go if you’re ready for the consequences. i.e., that]

[you: so you’re not coming with me]

[chenle: no <3]

THURSDAY, OCTOBER 30

Your chronically early self had gotten there as soon as the doors opened to spectators in order to scope out the perfect spot for yourself. Somewhere not too close to any speakers, where you could still see what was going on, hopefully somewhere Sungchan could maybe see you, but you could make a quick escape if need be. A lot of parameters, hence the need to be early. That meant that you got to watch the visiting team warm up first, and now your school’s team was warming up before the game. Finally the stands started filling up, and you had to do a double-take at the newest figure entering.

“Zhong Chenle, you lying little bitch!” You cursed out your best friend who was approaching you.

He immediately went to defend himself as he plopped down beside you, “Look, I told you I wasn’t going with you, not that I wasn’t going at all. Come on, Lit major.”

He finished off with a solid knock on your head, which didn’t hurt all that much through the beanie you were wearing, but you still slapped his arm away with a glare.

“Are you sure you want to live until graduation day? I can’t tell sometimes.”

“Half the team are Nu Chi guys,” Chenle explained his being there, then waved at one of the players skating by, 23, who gave a salute back. “Jeno.”

“Oh.” You belatedly waved too, but your friend had already turned back to warming up.

Chenle then gave you the run-down on all your friends and acquaintances’ numbers as he spotted them.

“Goalie. Sicheng, 7.” He just blocked a shot from a familiar number, 23. “Already told you, 23 is Jeno. Right wing.”

“Does he always suck?”

“Here’s Ten, number 10. Right defense. He’s never told me which came first, his nickname or his jersey number.”

Sicheng blocked Ten’s shot.

“2 is Mark, center.” His went in.

“66, Donghyuck, center alternate.” His also went in.

“24, that’s Yangyang, left wing—and a miss!”

“This doesn’t bode well that so many of our players apparently kind of suck.” You muttered to yourself, well aware that Chenle was no longer listening to you.

Finally, the tallest of the team was skating up to take a shot. “And there’s your guy, Y/N. Number 27, Jung Sungchan, left defense, captain, your dreamboat—”

“If you don’t shut up—”

“Oh! All net!”

“Isn’t that a basketball—”

“Hey, you got your earplugs, right?”

“Yep, same ones for concerts,” you confirmed, reaching into your purse for them. You hadn’t been able to take your full tote bag into the school sporting event, so you had to condense the essentials into your smaller purse.

“Good, because uh, it’ll get loud.”

“I figured.”

“Yeah, remember how half the team are Nu Chi guys?”

Your eyes widened in realization, “Oh god.”

“Here they come!”

Whipping around to face the same direction he was looking, you saw a horde of about ten to fifteen guys storming the rink, practically shaking the audience section. They were all donned in blue and orange, your university’s colors, various hockey or Nu Chi merch and paraphernalia, and you would’ve absolutely bet money that at least three of them had Nu, Chi, and Tau symbols painted across each of their chests under their shirts. Chenle leapt up to greet them all, the volume of the area immediately rising tenfold at least.

You recognized most of the Nu Chi frat brothers, they were mutual friends or acquaintances of yours through Chenle over the years, and there were even some familiar graduated faces. Lee Taeyong was the first to pick up on your presence, squeezing past Jisung—a new pledge that had glommed onto Chenle in particular—to plop down behind your seat.

“What are you doing here, Y/N?” Taeyong asked you with a tilted head. “Not exactly a good place for you, is it?”

Taeyong was frat president for your first two years of college and his last two. You had an absolute disaster at a Nu Chi party in your freshman year that he was witness to. Ever since then, when you would see him in passing at other lowkey (or as lowkey as frat functions could get) Nu Chi events that Chenle took you to during those two years, you always got the distinct impression that he was keeping an eye on you during them.

“Could be asking you the same thing, Taeyong,” you countered, fully turning around in your seat to chat with the man. “Didn’t you graduate two years ago? You don’t have anything better to do on a Thursday night? Like your taxes or something?”

“Us old-timers who peaked in college like to come back and re-live our glory days vicariously for the first home game,” he entertained your jibe, making you giggle. “And somebody’s got to be these kids’ DD. They always go at it too hard after the first game. Win or lose.”

Johnny, another graduated Nu Chi brother, spoke up then, eyes laser-focused on you, “So Chenle’s finally dragged you out to a game, Y/N?”

You immediately looked at your friend with wide eyes, knowing what the answer was, and exactly what reaction said answer would garner. Chenle, on the other hand, seemed all too thrilled to join in, turning to face you with his hands on his hips and a knowing smirk on his face.

“Oh no, I didn’t bring Y/N. She actually didn’t know I was coming at all. I found her here all on her own,” he announced to all the guys, who were hanging on to every word he said. If literally anything else were happening, you might’ve laughed at how they were all wrapped around his finger.

“No offense, but you don’t really seem like you’re interested in hockey,” Jungwoo, a junior who you’d shared a couple literature classes with, said curiously.

You sighed, giving Chenle a frank look before admitting, “Jung Sungchan invited me.”

They exploded with various hoots, hollers, whoops, and whistles.

With a shake of your head, you turned back around to look back at the players on the ice, knowing full well that there was nothing you could do alleviate—or even really participate in—the absolute chaos that was happening behind you.

Eventually, the game started. Taeyong, who had moved to sit on your other side from Chenle, quietly explained the basics of what was going on to you: positions, plays, scoring, why the referee made certain calls. Chenle was caught between cheering along with the other Nu Chi guys and rattling off hyper-specific stats on individual players to you, so you were truly grateful to have Taeyong giving you your “hockey for dummies” tips and tidbits throughout.

You kept your eyes on number 27, as Chenle had pointed him out to you earlier. The gear made it somewhat difficult for you to really recognize any distinguishing features about Sungchan himself except maybe his height, made even greater by the skates he was wearing. But as much as the intellectual side of you might’ve hated to admit it, there was definitely some part of you that very much enjoyed watching him play; that got some kind of thrill every time somebody tried to check him and he didn’t budge—or when he checked somebody and they most definitely did budge.

Before you knew it, all three periods were over, and you were jumping to your feet along with the others, cheering wildly. Your school won by a landslide.

“Oh, they’re going to get plastered,” Taeyong murmured from beside you fondly.

All of you had been in the cheering section milled around in the ice rink lobby waiting for the team to get out of the locker room.

“That was fun,” you declared to Chenle as the two of you stood off to the side from the larger group of loud Nu Chi brothers.

“Yeah, you didn’t seem like you were listening to a word I said.”

“Because you were telling me sports stats, Chenle, I’m surprised my brain didn’t start bleeding out of my ears.”

“Well I’m surprised your nose wasn’t bleeding watching your dreamboat Jung Sungchan beat up all those other guys,” Chenle teased. “200 BC called, they want their cavewoman back—”

You lunged at him, managing to get an arm around his throat in the beginnings of a questionably friendly chokehold, “I’m going to kill you, you little—”

“No murder in the rink!” Came the chastising voice of Johnny Suh from afar, and you reluctantly let him go.

The players started streaming out of the locker room soon after, and you nervously scanned the crowd for Sungchan. Chenle was easily dragged into the chaos of everyone celebrating, leaving you standing off to the side waiting.

Finally, you spotted him. Sungchan was wearing a simple pair of black sweatpants and black hoodie with your school’s name embroidered across the front, his hair a bit mussed up. He was deep in conversation with Sicheng, brow furrowed. The goalie’s features were similarly serious as they gestured to each other. You stayed put, not wanting to interrupt. Taeyong had mentioned that Sicheng was sort of like a co-captain, you guessed they might be doing something important.

Then you’d suddenly made eye contact with Sicheng, who was facing you. He gave you a casual head nod, and said something to Sungchan you couldn’t quite make out. The captain whipped around, a bright smile coming to his face as soon as his eyes landed on you. You lifted your hand to give him a small wave and smile back.

Sungchan quickly ended his conversation with Sicheng, making his way over to where you were standing by a wall.

“Hey, Y/N,” he was still smiling down at you, his eyes practically glittering even in the harsh fluorescents of the lobby. “So you really made it out.”

“I said I would.” You fidgeted with the straps of your bag.

“And…?”

You tilted your head, “And?”

“What did you think? You know, are your horizons super broad now or something?”

You couldn’t help but laugh. His phrasing was funny, but also remembering how he played and was now giving you his undivided attention admittedly made your chest flutter.

“It was good, yeah. I had fun,” you confirmed. “You uhm, you played really good. I think.”

“Thanks,” Sungchan scratched at the back of his neck, and you swore the tips of his ears were pink, but that could’ve just been the cold. “Did you drive yourself?”

“Walked, my apartment is close.”

“Uh, so, we all go out to a bar after games usually. It’s kind of a sleazy dive bar, and I know it’s a Thursday, but I’d really like for you to come. I’ll buy you a dr—”

“I’m really sorry, Sungchan, but I can’t. I’d love to, but…” You trailed off, wracking your brain for some concise way to explain why he couldn’t buy you a drink.

“Don’t worry, it’s okay,” Sungchan assured you, and you winced at the way the hopeful smile fell from his face.

An awkward silence descended over the two of you. You were chewing on your bottom lip, desperately trying to think of something to say to gloss over your rejecting his offer. You didn’t want to end the conversation on such a sour note, nor did you want to leave him just yet either. Stealing a glance at the clock above you on the wall, however, you knew that you’d need to be going soon anyway.

The hockey player was the one who ended up breaking the silence, “Can I walk you home? It’s late for you to be out by yourself.”

A relieved smile overtook your features, and you hoped he could see the sincerity in it, “Sure, thank you. Let me let Chenle know he’s relieved of his man-shaped friend duties for the night, and we can go.”

You got on your tiptoes to look around for your friend, finally spotting him in a headlock by Jeno, with Yangyang giving him a noogie. They all seemed to be laughing, so it didn’t look too much like bullying that you felt the need to intervene.

“You know, I’ll just text him, actually,” you chuckled, bringing out your phone to do just that.

“Man-shaped friend duties?” Sungchan questioned as the automatic doors parted for the two of you.

“His words, not mine,” you snorted. “But you know, making sure a woman doesn’t walk places by herself at night, that kind of stuff. Having a man just with her makes her safer, as fucked up as that is. Chenle corrected it to be man-shaped since he’s not the manly protective type.”

“I see.”

“But it looks like you’re on man-shaped friend duties for tonight, Sungchan.”

As soon as the words were out of your mouth, you wanted to stuff them back in. Friend. God, that was absolutely not what was happening here and you knew it. Chenle’s previous texts flashed across your mind. You obviously knew why Sungchan would’ve wanted to invite you to his game, and you said yes purposefully. Friend. Foot, meet mouth.

Sungchan blinked down at you, but seemed to take it in stride, “Of course, Y/N. Anytime you need a man-shaped person at your side, just call me up. I’ll bring my hockey stick.”

He patted his gear bag that was slung over his shoulder, making you giggle.

“I’ll keep you on speed dial, then.”

It was a short walk to your apartment, and you and Sungchan mostly talked about the game. You asked him a couple questions that Taeyong hadn’t covered during it— which Chenle might’ve, except you had tuned him out. And as you came to a stop at your front door, you didn’t yet fish your keys from your bag.

“How often do you have away games?” You asked.

“They’re usually about half,” Sungchan shrugged. “It’s a bit annoying missing classes, and the bus is kind of rank on the trip back.”

“Ew…” You wrinkled your nose.

“But they’re always a lot of fun.”

“So, uhm, when’s your next home game?”

His face brightened as he seemed to realize what exactly you were asking, “Next week. Same time.”

“Okay, cool.” You bit your lip.

“Cool,” he echoed.

You looked up at Sungchan, catching his eyes for a heart stopping moment. Both of you were standing on your welcome mat, he was close enough that you could catch a faint whiff of the detergent from his clothes—a college athlete with freshly washed clothes? You might already be in love—and watched his Adam’s apple bob up and down as he swallowed. You had the urge to grab him by the front of his hoodie and yank him—

A garish, blaring ringing going off interrupted your split-second pros and cons weighing that had been going on. Sungchan startled at the noise, reminding you very much of a baby moose in the moment. You groaned as you reached into your bag for your phone.

“Oh my god, stop it,” you hissed under your breath as you snoozed the alarm that was going off on there. Once it was quiet, you looked back up at the man with you sheepishly, “Sorry about that.”

He joked, “Curfew?”

You laughed lightly, “No, just a reminder for something I have to do after I get home. It’s fine.”

“Well, before you go do that, can I ask you something?”

“Yeah, of course.”

“Nu Chi and the team are hosting a joint Halloween party this year, and I’d really like it if I could see you there.”

“When?”

“Tomorrow, people will probably start showing up after like ten, eleven. It’s at the Nu Chi house, theirs is bigger than ours.”

“Fascinating phrasing,” you snickered.

“I know this is last minute, so I get if you have other plans or something.”

“I… can probably swing by for a bit, yeah,” you nodded.

“Great!” Sungchan beamed. “Oh, it is a costume party, by the way.”

“Costume?” You arched a brow. “What’ll you being going as? And please don’t say hockey player.”

He rubbed the back of his neck, “Definitely not… that would be lame…”

“You were planning on going as a hockey player, weren’t you?”

“Me and Mark have been putting all our spare time into planning this thing, I haven’t had any time to think about a costume.”

“Well you’ve given me 24-hour notice for a costume, so this is your 24-hour notice for one too. When I find you at the Nu Chi house tomorrow, I do not want to see a hockey jersey, Jung Sungchan. Any sports player is off-limits, understand?” You poked his chest with finality.

“Yes, ma’am.” He nodded in assent.

Just then, your alarm went off again, and this time you jumped out of your skin. Apparently, another 5 minutes had elapsed. With a sigh, you reached into your bag for your keys.

“I should let you go do that thing,” Sungchan chuckled. “Goodnight, Y/N.”

“Goodnight, Sungchan,” you unlocked your front door. “See you tomorrow.”

Sitting at your kitchen table a couple minutes later, you were looking down at the vitals displayed on the screen of your blood pressure cuff.

“Jung Sungchan…” you muttered to yourself as you added the reading to your digital record, noting how the line graph jumped up with the new data.

FRIDAY, OCTOBER 31

“You agreed to go to a frat party?” Chenle’s eyes were bugging out of his head as he sat across a high top in the dining hall from you. You two were grabbing a quick lunch between classes, and doing an obligatory catch-up on how your short but sweet walk with Sungchan went last night. “Do you remember what happened last time, Y/N?”

“Hard to forget,” you snorted.

“And yet it seems you did, somehow, lost in dreamboat Jung Sungchan’s eyes.”

You threw a fry from his plate at him, “It wasn’t like that!”

He ducked, letting it sail by his head and hit the wall behind him.

“Then what was it like?”

“It was more like a big puppy that I couldn’t say no to and—”

You were cut off by loud gagging noises from your friend, and went to kick him under the table, but missed and hit his chair leg instead. He still got the message, quieting down to let you continue.

“I told him I’d be able to just pop in for a bit. I’ll be in and out before it’ll get too bad.”

“Famous last words...”

“Hold on, LeLe,” you grabbed your friend’s arm to stop him on the sidewalk in front of the Nu Chi Tau frat house.

Taking another look into your tote bag, you made sure once again that you had everything you could possibly need tonight. Medications, snacks, water bottle, ear plugs, the usual. After closing the snaps on the bag, you nervously fidgeted with the hem of your costume. Generic witch, it was the last thing the costume store had in your size that wasn’t garishly scary. You understood well and good how college Halloween parties worked: you had to look hot, not terrifying. Not to mention that those horror show costumes were also much pricier than your “Sexy Witch” one.

“You look cute, Y/N,” Chenle reassured you, readjusting your witch hat for you. “Jung Sungchan won’t know what hit him.”

Chenle, on the other hand, was an almost scarily realistic zombie. If you hadn’t spent an ungodly amount of time hanging out on his bathroom counter this afternoon watching him apply the SFX makeup himself, you would’ve thought he had hired a professional makeup artist to do it. He’d always gone ham on Halloween since you two were kids, ever since he figured out how to make a Transformers costume out of cardboard boxes in primary school. You usually participated in partner costumes with him, but you really didn’t want him to make you a gross-looking zombie tonight.

“Thanks.” You gave him as confident a smile as you could muster.

Resecuring your grip on your go bag, you started up the walkway to the house with your friend.

You had been able to faintly hear the thumping bass of the music from outside, but once inside, you were almost immediately hit by a wall of music. Just inside the front door you were faced with a mass of people in bright costumes, flashing lights, corny Halloween decorations of cobwebs, spiders, ghosts, and pumpkins all over the walls.

Chenle looked over at you expectantly, “Y/N?”

“I couldn’t find my concert earplugs, only my noise canceling. I won’t be able to hear anybody unless they’re shouting at me if I put those in,” you replied, having to raise your voice to make sure he heard you. “I’ll be fine.”

“Okay…” He sighed and grabbed your elbow. “Come on, let’s find a quieter spot in the house then.”

You gave him a thumbs up and bright grin, already feeling your ears acclimate to the loudness. You could totally do this. It was one night, and you were just going to see Sungchan for a bit then go. Pop in then back out, just like you said.

You didn’t have to wait long to spot Sungchan. Chenle had barely tugged you into the next room over from the small foyer when a familiar head was visible over the crowd, his bright smile focused on you.

“Hey, Y/N!” Sungchan grinned down at you. He was dressed in a suit and tie, what you were guessing was probably his only set, and his hair was parted to one side, styled off of his face. The tie had already been loosened, and the tuck of his dress shirt wasn’t so crisp.

“Hi, Sungchan,” you smiled up at him, amazed that you could hear anything over both the music and now your heart beating so loudly in your ears.

“So you did find a costume.”

“Oh, yeah,” you messed with the hem of your skirt. “Last one at the shop.”

“You look great.” He was still beaming down at you, and you could feel your skin growing warmer. “I’m really glad you could make it.”

“Thanks. Uhm, so what are you? Funeral director?”

“What? No, I’m—” His sentence stopped in its tracks as he looked down at the front of his suit jacket. He started patting his empty breast pocket, then other jacket pockets, then pants pockets, then looked around on the floor. “Fuck.”

“What?” You looked around under your feet, but weren’t able to see anything other than the usual party debris. “Did you lose something?”

Sungchan looked back up at you, sheepishly rubbing the back of his neck. “Well, I was about to say that I’m Mulder from the X-Files. But I’ve apparently lost my fake FBI badge. So it looks like I’m a funeral director now.”

You giggled. “Maybe you can be Mulder when he retires and buys a funeral home.”

“Yeah, the perfect costume. Won’t take too long to explain to anybody, they’ll get it immediately,” he laughed.

“Hey, I’m just glad you didn’t wear a jersey.”

“I’m nothing if not a man of my word.”

“Oh, have you seen Chenle’s makeup by the—” But when you turned around to gesture to your friend, you found that he had disappeared, leaving you and the hockey captain all alone.

“Chenle?” Sungchan asked with a tilted head. “I didn’t even realize he was here yet.”

You shook your head fondly at your friend’s antics. Well, you’d have to thank him later.

“He must have gone to get a drink or something. Either way, it seems I’ve been abandoned.”

“Well, you can come hang out with me and some of the guys, if you want?” He offered.

“Yeah, I’d really like that,” you nodded, readjusting your bag to make sure it was pulled in tight to your body.

Sungchan led you through the frat house with a hand on the small of your back, and you snuck a glance up at him when he went to greet someone who had called his name as you passed by. He kept you tucked into his side as he slowed to give the guy a friendly slap on the shoulder. As soon as Sungchan had stopped to say hello, two more people appeared seemingly from nowhere, eagerly greeting him as well. You faintly recognized one, Jisung, a new Nu Chi pledge. He’d been at the hockey game you went to, and always found Chenle at Nu Chi events that you tagged along to. You looked up at Sungchan’s animated, handsome face again as he continued talking.

“This is Y/N.” Sungchan’s voice suddenly pulled you into the conversation. You snapped your focus down from his face to the other three that were in front of you, and realized that they all definitely knew that you’d been staring.

“Oh, hi.” You gave the three boys a nervous smile.

“Y/N, this is Jisung, Shotaro, and Renjun. Jisung and Shotaro are Nu Chi pledges, Renjun’s a sophomore brother, and he’s—you’re a Literature major, right, Renjun?”

“Yes.” One of them nodded.

“Renjun’s a Literature major too, Y/N,” Sungchan finished the introduction.

“Cool, cool,” you nodded. It had been Shotaro that called Sungchan over in the first place, you were pretty sure.

“Anyway, thanks for the offer, guys, but I already promised Hyuck I would, so we’ve got to go.”

Sungchan ushered you away to the tune of a chorus of disappointed groans from the three boys, and you wracked your brain to see if you could recall hearing any sort of proposition from them. But nope, between the loud music and your prior lack of attention to the conversation, you had nothing.

“What did they want?” You gave up and finally asked Sungchan.

“Beer pong. Hope you don’t mind that I declined. I’ve already had a couple and am not looking to get wasted quite yet.”

“Oh, no, not at all,” you shook your head. Thank god you didn’t have to deal with that yet. “Not really my thing anyway. Terrible hand-eye coordination.”

Sungchan seemed about to say something when someone walked by you with an exceptionally pungent cologne. The whiff shot directly to your head like a bullet, the sharp pain making you wince and hiss. It took everything in you not to cover your nose like Edward Cullen and instead shift to breathing through your mouth for a few moments.

“Y/N? You okay?” Sungchan’s voice was clearly concerned.

The sharp pain was gone just a couple moments after it had registered, and you opened your eyes up again, giving him a reassuring smile. “Yeah, I’m fine. Sorry, don’t know what that was.”

“Okay, good.” He squeezed your shoulder before dropping his hand back down to your back and continuing your trek through the Nu Chi house.

You and Sungchan finally made it to a room adjacent to the main living room, where there were a couple of beat-up old couches and lots of Nu Chi Tau paraphernalia. The bass of the music playing in the next room over would occasionally make the picture frames and plaques on the walls rattle, and you could hear every word of the songs crystal clear, even though the room that you were in was packed to the brim with partygoers as well. Sungchan stopped you at a group of people gathered around one of the couches, tapping the shoulders of two of them who had their backs to you. Donghyuck and Hendery turned around, immediately parting to make room for the both of you in the group upon seeing you.

Almost everyone in the group was familiar to you either as friends or acquaintances. Your social circle was big thanks to Chenle, who was friends with practically the entire hockey team and Nu Chi house, despite being a member of neither. But now you didn’t have your best friend at your side, just Sungchan and your tote bag, both of which you were keeping close to you.

“Oh shit, Y/N!” Hendery grinned, pulling you into a one-armed hug of greeting. “Damn, it really is you!”

“Yeah, I’m a witch, not a ghost, Hendery,” you retorted jokingly. He was dressed as Prince Eric, if you weren’t mistaken.

“Well, when Sungchan said you were coming, some of us were a bit... skeptical.”

Someone dressed as Venom cut in from Hendery’s other side sharply, “No, I believe you said ‘never in a million fucking years, loverboy.’”

The rest of the group erupted in tipsy snickers and ‘ooh’s, and you felt Sungchan jostle a little as someone had presumably given him a teasing shove.

“Alright, guys. You can cut it out now,” Sungchan spoke over them authoritatively. He then looked down to you, features softening. “Sorry. Anyway, this is Donghyuck, he’s on the team and in Nu Chi—”

He pointed to the boy right next to him, wearing a very classic vampire costume splattered with a little bit of fake blood or fruit punch (you couldn’t tell in the poor lighting), and you wondered if he had also gone to a Halloween store last-minute like you. You knew him both from the game, and from a couple times you’d seen him with Chenle outside of frat or hockey events.

“Mark, frat president and he’s on the hockey team—” He was next to Donghyuck, dressed as Spiderman. You were already familiar with Mark, both from the game, and a group project in a class last year. You wondered if Mark remembered that.

“Ten, hockey and Nu Chi—” Ten was reclined on the couch, a top hat that had presumably been on his head earlier now resting on his propped up knee. Between that and his eyepatch, he clearly was dressed as some character that you couldn’t identify in the moment. You knew Ten outside of hockey, the frat, or even Chenle. He was a Lit major, so you had shared classes and study groups over the years. He raised a friendly hand in greeting.

“Sicheng, my co-captain and he’s in Nu Chi, too—” He was on the couch with Ten, sequestered to one corner as his teammate was taking up most of the space with his legs. Sicheng was dressed up as an angel, fake wings, little halo, and all. And you knew Sicheng through Ten, they’d been roommates since freshman year and could often be found together around campus. He gave you a nod of familiarity.

“Dejun, Nu Chi—” Sungchan had finally reached the man who was dressed as Venom.

“And you of course, unfortunately, know Hendery, Nu Chi.”

“Oh, boo, Sungchan,” Hendery stuck his tongue out at the captain.

You smiled and nodded a little bit at everyone else, but you were finding it hard to concentrate with the music in the background. Did it really need to be that loud?

“Y/N?” The sound of your name snapped your focus up, and you looked around for the source.

A few of the guys had gone back to their own conversations. Sungchan was looking down at you, head tilted inquisitively. Presumably he had been to the one to say your name.

“Oh, sorry,” you tried to give a nonchalant chuckle, but it was getting harder and harder to even articulate yourself with all the stimulation. “The music...”

“Oh!” Sungchan perked up at this. “Do you want to go dance?”

He was offering a hand out to you, and you stared down at it, mouth opening and closing as your brain felt like it was moving through sludge. You quite literally could not process what that string of words actually meant for a good second, and then it took even longer for you to even tie together the right way for you to respond. Cognitive fatigue. Oh this was not good. You squeezed your eyes shut, then open.

You again gave him an apologetic smile. “I’m sorry. I’m- I’m kind of light-headed right now. Could you get me something to drink?”

His features immediately turned concerned. “Of course. Do you need to sit down or a ride h—”

“Can you just get me a drink?” Your brain was stuck in a perpetual loop now that it had locked onto one task. It took all of your energy just to regulate your tone enough to keep your voice (hopefully) as sweet as possible, despite the fact that you had cut him off.

“Of course. I’ll be right back.” He squeezed your upper arm reassuringly before taking off.

Your eyes were fixated on the spot where he had just been, your vision seeming to continuously zoom in and past your head. Squeezing your eyes shut once more, you took a deep breath through your mouth to try to recenter yourself. But it didn’t help any. Your head felt like a balloon that someone was overinflating, and you knew exactly what was coming next. You swallowed thickly, taking a second to look through the crowd. Nope, you couldn’t wait for Sungchan. Not like you could even verbalize much of anything right now. You had to go take your medication.

So you hurried into the crowd, clutching your tote bag to your chest like your life depended on it—which it really did. Mumbling ‘excuse me’s to everyone you shouldered, bumped into, or stepped on the toes of, you finally made it to a door that you were pretty sure was a bathroom. You tried the handle first, and when it gave in, you still knocked as you opened it, just in case. It was miraculously empty. Maybe there really was a God. Then, the balloon started to deflate, the pressure in your head inverted, becoming a harsh, squeezing pain instead. Nope, nope, definitely not a God. Or at least not a benevolent one.

You locked the door behind you with clumsy fingers and shuffled over to the sink. The countertop was in good enough condition for you to toss your bag up there and start rooting around through it. Bottle after bottle after bottle, then you finally secured the right two. You shook out a pill from one, then a pill from the other. The lights above the mirror were becoming more insufferable by the second. You cracked open the fresh bottle of water you had stored in your bag too, and knocked both pills back in one big gulp.

Tossing the water back into your bag, you could fucking finally flip the switch and turn the lights in the bathroom off. After feeling your way along the wall, you eventually found the bathtub, and sat yourself down. The music was somewhat muffled in here, and you figured this was going to be the darkest room in the whole Nu Chi house. Right now, your plan was to wait in here for your medication to kick in and hopefully stop this migraine before it really got going. Then you could make your great escape, and send Sungchan some bullshit apology text later. After tossing your witch hat to the ground vaguely beside your bag, you gently rested your head against the cool tile of the shower with a sigh. Chenle was right, you shouldn’t have come. Cynically, you thought that you should have timed it. See how long you lasted before you got a migraine. You’d be surprised if that was even 15 minutes.

Stupid, stupid, stupid.

Sungchan returned to the group with your requested drink in hand and another for himself, frowning when he immediately noticed your absence. “Hey, where’d Y/N go?”

“Oh, shit, uh…” Mark looked around with a baffled look on his face. “No clue dude, she was just here a second ago.”

“I’m going to go find her. Here.” He shoved both drinks into Hendery’s hands.

“Sungchan, come on, take a hint, man,” Donghyuck sighed, patting the taller boy’s shoulder sympathetically.

“What?”

“She asked you to get her something to drink and then slipped away when nobody was looking.”

“Y/N’s not like that.”

“And denial’s a river in Egypt.”

“No, she hasn’t been feeling well all night. I think. I’m going to go look for her.”

“So you’re admitting that you make her physically ill.”

“Dude, you’re just asking to get your shit rocked, you know that, right?” Ten warned him.

“Hey, I’m standing up for women—”

Mark cut him off, “Hyuck, you’re on your own if Sungchan decides to fuck your shit up. I don’t care if you’re my little, I’m not—”

“Oh, wahhh, my big strong big won’t protect me.”

“Christ, I swear he’s only had like four shots and a couple…”

His friends’ voices quickly faded into the din of the party as Sungchan pushed through the crowd. He couldn’t spot you, but found maybe the next best thing.

“Hey, Chenle.” He grabbed him by the elbow, turning him away from the arm wrestling competition between Jeno and Yangyang that he was spectating. Or, he at least hoped this was Chenle, it was a bit hard to tell with the zombie makeup.

“Hey, Romeo!” Chenle greeted him jovially, punching him in the shoulder over-zealously. Okay, definitely him.

“Have you seen Y/N? In the past like, five minutes or so?”

“You lost her?” The zombie asked angrily, cheerful mood immediately soured.

“Uh, yes? Sorry?”

“No, I’m not pissed at you,” he shook his head at Sungchan’s apology. “You go check the bathrooms, I’ll look outside. Don’t bother calling her, she’s not going to pick up.”

“What’s—”

But Chenle was already gone.

You weren’t sure how long you had been sitting in there for, but you could feel some of the overstimulation from the party beginning to slide off of you. Which could be either a good or bad thing. Cognitive fatigue was usually a prodrome and postdrome for you. Regaining some clarity could either mean that your medication was working and the migraine was going away, or you were about to enter the proper migraine phase. The fact that the pain hadn’t gone away was worrying. But at least it was dark, and relatively quiet. Oh, quiet... you could put in your earplugs now too.

Just as you had gone to grab for your bag, there was a knock at the bathroom door. You froze. Shit.

“Occupied!” You yelled out hesitantly to them, wincing at the loudness of your own voice. Okay, ow.

The person knocked again, harder.

“Seriously! Busy in here! Puking my brains out!” You yelled even louder, hoping they got the fucking idea this time. There was no way you wanted to have to actually get up and deal with a drunk partygoer that needed to piss and/or puke.

“Y/N? That you?” A familiar voice came through the door. “It’s Sungchan, can I come in?”

“Oh, sure, hold on.” You clambered out of the tub as carefully as you could in the dim lighting coming from under the door.

Against your better judgment, you turned one set of lights on in the bathroom, then cracked the bathroom door open. Sungchan was in fact on the other side, and you stepped back to let him in. He looked around the bathroom, worry on his face.

You shut the door behind him, saying sheepishly, “So, I was lying about the puking my brains out.”

“But you don’t look okay.” He peered down at your face as you were still wincing against the bright lights. “You didn’t drink anything tonight, what’s wrong?”

You went to sit on the side of the tub, feeling a pain in your eyes now. You gestured to the light switch. “Can you turn that light off?”

“Uh, okay…” He obliged, and the room was dim once again.

Your eyes adjusted quickly, and you could still see the general outline of everything in the room. Sitting back in the tub, you pulled your knees to your chest. Well, no chance for your great escape now. Sungchan climbed into the dry tub with you, facing you. He didn’t fit great in the small space, all gangly limbs, and your knees bumped into each other. But he sat there with you quietly.

“I’ve got a migraine coming on, I had to get somewhere quiet and dark and take my meds.” You told him bluntly, opting to just take the plunge. Not like you could even attempt flowery language at the moment anyway. Sure, some of your speech capabilities were coming back now that there was less sensory input, but you weren’t going to be doing any soliloquies tonight.

“Oh, I’m sorry,” Sungchan said quietly. “Do you want me to leave?”

“No, no. I actually- I actually don’t want to be alone right now, if that’s okay?” You surprised yourself with your answer.

“Yeah, of course.” He said reassuringly. “Do you want me to take you home?”

“I might not have drank but you did. I’ll be okay here, for the most part. I’m the one who came knowing that I get sound-induced migraines.”

“Wait, really?”

“Mm, yeah,” you pinched the bridge of your nose to alleviate some of the tension there for a moment. “Remember when I said Chenle pushes me out of my comfort zone in a good way most of the time?”

“Right.”

“One of the times it wasn’t... good was when he got an invite to Nu Chi’s Halloween party our freshman year, dragged me with him. And he always means the best when he does stuff like that. I hadn’t made any new friends at college, meanwhile he had a bunch, including some of the pledges at Nu Chi.”

“How he got the invite.”

“Exactly.” You needed to take a pause, resting your head against the cool tile again. After a few deep breaths, you pushed on in the story. “Anyway, we’d been there for a couple hours when the loudness and the music and everything finally got to me and I got a migraine. I had my go bag on me, and went to what I thought was an empty corner of the house to take my meds. But a couple other people saw me knocking back pills and wanted some. My head was hurting like a bitch, and they were trying to grab them from me and anyway, I spilled a bunch of them all over the floor, drenched myself with my water and their beer, and elbowed a dude and gave him a bloody nose.”

“Holy shit,” Sungchan breathed out.

You opened and closed your jaw a couple times to try to relax the muscles and joints there. “I couldn’t even open my eyes because my head hurt so bad. Chenle told me later I was screaming and Taeyong wanted to call an ambulance until Chenle ran up and explained what was happening. They put me, Chenle, and Jeno—turns out that’s whose nose I broke—in Taeyong’s room in the house for the rest of the night. Neither Chenle nor I were in any shape to drive ourselves home.”

“Wait is that how you met Jeno?”

“Yeah, and it turns out he wasn’t one of the ones trying to take my pills, he was trying to break up me and the people who were. Collateral damage.” You recounted it regrettably.

“When Jeno found out I’d invited you, he told me he’d keep his room clear in case we needed it. I thought he was just being a dick.” Sungchan sounded like he was having an epiphany. “Y/N, do you think you’ll be okay to move up a floor?”

The bass was thudding through the door, and you knew that if you stayed here when you transitioned into the throes of however bad this migraine fully got, you’d regret it. Grabbing your earplugs from your bag and putting them in, you gave him a thumbs-up and attempted a smile, but you knew it came out like more of a wince.

Sungchan kept you between him and the wall as you moved through the Nu Chi house, casting as much of a shadow against the garishly flashing lights as possible. Even through your earplugs, the music was raucous, people were practically screaming at each other, and you gripped one hand around his arm and the other onto his suit jacket to keep yourself balanced and to not lose him. When you got to the stairs, he fully wrapped an arm around your shoulders to jerk you out of the way of a drunk Nu Chi member stumbling his way down, and kept it there the rest of the way up. The noise was squeezing around your head like a vice, and you shut your eyes tight at the top of the stairs for a moment in an attempt to clear your head.

Sungchan’s voice was right beside your ear, muffled through the earplugs, “We’re almost there, Y/N, I’m sorry, come on.”

You were vaguely aware of the man with you feeling around on the top of a doorway before jiggling a doorhandle, and finally you were in a blissfully dark and quiet-ish room. Your head definitely hurt more than before, and you practically collapsed onto the bed.

“He was kind enough to stuff all his dirty clothes in the closet,” Sungchan muttered.

You managed a strangled chuckle at that, dropping your go bag onto the floor beside the bed. A moment of silence passed, and you could hear Sungchan awkwardly shifting his weight between his feet at the doorway.

“Sungchan,” you said his name, then patted the empty half of the bed beside you. “You can sit. I know Jeno doesn’t have any other furniture in here besides the bed and his PlayStation.”

“He probably only has a bedframe because it came with the room.”

You snickered, but were cut off by the squeezing pain turning to a sharp, stabbing pain behind your left eye, “Oh fuck!”

“Y/N?!” Sungchan was right beside you, and you felt the bed dip as he sat down beside you.

“Sorry, sorry, it feels like I’m getting an icepick lobotomy! Jesus!” You hissed, cupping a hand over your left eye as if that were actually going to do anything. “It’s normal, I’m fine. Relatively.”

“Okay…”

Still clutching your eye, you rolled onto your side and brought your knees up towards your chest. You blindly fumbled towards the head of the bed, and felt a pillow being pressed into your hand.

“Thanks,” you muttered, tucking it under your head.

“Do you want to lay under the covers?” Sungchan whispered.

“Do they smell like Jeno’s washed them in the past week?”

He laughed breathily at that, “Miraculously they do. I think he was planning on getting laid.”

“He gave up getting his dick wet for me. Jeno’s a real one,” you mumbled, feeling the covers that you were laying on top of being pulled out from under you.

Sungchan gently brought the sheet up to your shoulder, then a blanket too. The stabbing pain behind your eye was still there, and your stomach filled with dread as you acknowledged that your acute medication wasn’t going to be working this time. This was going to be a full-blown migraine, and who knew how many hours it would last.

“Thank you.”

“Is there anything else you need? Water?”

“No. Just uh, let me know when two hours have passed, I can take another dose of my meds that aren’t fucking working then.”

“Oh. Will do.”

You opened and closed your jaw, letting out a distinct groan. Another few minutes passed. Or, you think it was a few minutes, you couldn’t really check your phone for the time.

“Sungchan.”

“Yes?”

“You don’t have to stay. I’m sure the party is a lot more fun.”

“Do you want me to go?”

“…No.”

“I want to stay. I’m not going to have any fun out there knowing that you’re in all in this pain all alone in here.”

You squinted your right eye open, and had to crane your neck to look up at where Sungchan was sitting against the headboard. He had taken his suit jacket and shoes off at some point, now just in a rumpled dress shirt, loosened tie, slacks, and socks. He held your eye contact steadily, head tilted slightly and a frown across his handsome features.

Reaching your unoccupied hand up towards him, he watched it with confusion.

“What do you need? Your bag?”

“No.” You grabbed his hand, giving it a light squeeze.

“Oh.” An adorably radiant grin was on his face now instead.

SATURDAY, NOVEMBER 1

Sungchan knew you’d finally fallen asleep when you stopped muttering swears and curses under your breath, the pained expression fell from your face, and your hand that was holding his went limp. He could still hear the party going strong outside of Jeno’s bedroom, and a glance at his phone told him it was just after one in the morning. He had no want to rejoin his friends, to leave you.

He took his tie all the way off, thinking to himself that if you were feeling better, you might have joked that he looked like Mulder the off-duty funeral director. And he would’ve laughed and watched the cute way the corners of your mouth quirked up when you said something that you thought was funny. He set the tie down with his shoes on the floor beside the bed.

Careful to stay on top of the covers that you were sleeping under, Sungchan shifted until he was laying down too, pillow tucked under his head, facing you on his side, hand still holding yours.

Like usual, you didn’t remember falling asleep, but you did remember shutting your eyes tight and wishing really hard for your head to stop hurting so bad. Or to die. Whichever the Universe felt like granting. And judging by the fact that you were now waking up without a migraine, it seemed like the former.

The first thing you were aware of before you even opened your eyes was that you felt like shit. Sure, your head didn’t hurt anymore, but jeez the morning after wasn’t much better. Tired, achy, and your brain felt like TV static.

The second thing that you were aware of, after opening your eyes, was Jung Sungchan just a few inches from your face. He was still asleep, soft bursts of air passing from his lips and mussing up strands of hair that were falling into his eyes. You didn’t quite have enough in you to coo over his bedhead, but you could give half of a fond smile as you pushed yourself into a sitting position, running a sleepy hand over one side of your face.

Only one of your earplugs was still in your ears, and you looked around the bedsheets for the other one. After securing it, you scooted over to the edge of the bed to put the plugs back into your carrying case before rolling back over and pulling the blankets over you again. You deserved this, honestly. Sleeping in late, a comfy bed, warm blankets, a cute boy next to you, nothing to—

Your happy thoughts were ripped away by the sound of a loud alarm. You shot up, scrambling towards your tote bag to grab your phone from the depths of it and turn your goddamn alarm off before it woke Sungchan up.

“Mm?”

Too late.

Sheepishly, you looked over at him, “Sorry…”

“‘S okay,” he mumbled, flopping onto his back and rubbing a hand over his face. “How’s your head?”

“Better. A lot better, thanks.”

“Good, good.” He yawned, “Morning, by the way.”

“Good morning.”

His eyes were closed as he laid there, a hand resting on his chest, and you weren’t sure if he had fallen back asleep.

“…Sungchan?”

“Hm?”

Taking his inquisitive tone as a sign that you could keep talking, you said, “Uhm, that was the first time I’ve had anybody around for one my migraines in a while. I’m sorry if it was… well, I don’t know. What was it like for you?”

He opened his eyes, rolling onto his side to face you and tucking a hand under his cheek, “Oh, uh, I mean, I wasn’t quite worried, since you seemed like you knew exactly what was happening, you know? But still, I… I was wishing there was more I could do. It was weird knowing that you were in pain but not being able to see where it hurt.”

“I should’ve figured that might be upsetting. Sorry about all that.”

“No, Y/N, it's okay. I get it, you just wanted someone with you when you were hurting.”

“Yeah, yeah, I did,” you nodded, curling one of your hands into a fist in your lap, digging your nails into your palm in an attempt to not cry at how easily he saw right into you.

“I was more than happy to sit with you.”

“I’ve had these stupid migraines for years now. Tried every treatment in the book, been on every regiment. And my friends and family, they don’t treat me like I’m made of glass or anything, which I’m grateful for. Everyone in my life knows I’m a pro at it all: I’ve got my go bag, all my meds, my alarms, I’ve been going to doctors’ appointments, testing, everything for years. But like... they still hurt. The migraines still fucking hurt.” Your voice cracked over the word, and your nails dug in deeper. “And I just… think they forget that part sometimes? I don’t know, I guess they hear the word ‘migraine’ thousands of times over the years it sort of loses its meaning. They kind of forget what one actually is. But it hurts Sungchan, my head just hurts for hours or even days, sometimes so bad I throw up from the pain. I can’t do anything but lay in bed in the dark and cry. Last night’s wasn’t that bad but still… thank you. I needed for it to all be real to somebody.”

Sungchan pushed up into a sitting position, and through your watery vision you could see that his brows were furrowed. You followed where his gaze was locked, and watched as he gently unfurled your fingers. You used the thumb of your other hand to rub at the divots that your nails had left in your skin.

“The migraines are why I’ve been all weird, by the way.” You added, trying to ignore the strain in your voice.

“What?”

“When you wanted to buy me a drink after the game. One of my migraine medications that I take, I can’t drink alcohol on it. It just felt like a weird and long explanation to have to give in the moment. And when you asked if I wanted to dance with you last night, the music would’ve made the migraine come on quicker than it did, but explaining it to you then, again it felt like it would’ve ruined the moment even more.”

“Oh… don’t worry about it.”

There was still one big thing you hadn’t smoothed over. But it looks like you’re on man-shaped friend duties tonight, Sungchan. Stupid, stupid.

Pushing through the discomfort prickling at your skin, you asked, “Sungchan, do you want to go on a date?”

“A…” He looked you dead in the eyes for a moment, mouth parted, and blinked once, twice before he was absolutely beaming at you. “Yeah, yes, I do.”

“Okay.” You couldn’t help but giggle, nerves buzzing through you as your chest was airy and you were lightheaded for two reasons now, “Okay, good.”

“Is it bad for me to say that I’m relieved? That you have migraines? Well, not that you have them, because obviously they hurt, but like, that this is what it was? I seriously thought I was being stupid, like mixed signals or something. Like, you came to my game but then you didn’t want to go to the bar.” He ticked the instances off on the fingers of one hand.

“Medication,” you nodded.

“Right. Then you let me walk you home after, but you called me your friend.”

“That was just plain stupidity,” you admitted with a groan at having to relive that moment again.

“And you said yes to coming to the party, but then you didn’t want to dance with me,” Sungchan had now run out of fingers and dropped his hand back down to the bed.

“The music...”

“And when you disappeared, I thought you left because you didn’t like me. I just… felt like I was going crazy.”

“It’s not awful of you to be relieved about this. I’m sorry, Sungchan. Migraines aren’t conducive to romance, apparently.”

“Oh, bullshit.” He pushed back immediately. “They’re just not conducive to drinking and loud parties. That’s not romance.”

“Alright, fair. I’m wont to agree with you.”

“And you need to stop apologizing for your migraines. It’s not like you’re doing it on purpose.”

“Well, I did come to a loud ass party knowing I’d probably get a sound-induced migraine.”

“Okay, aside from that— which, I’m very flattered by and will never ever ask you to do anything like this ever again.”

“Okay.”

Suddenly the door handle rattled, then there was a banging on the door. “Hey! Are you two done in there?” Jeno yelled through the wood. “You better not be having post-headache sex on my bed!”

“Seems like he didn’t get laid last night,” Sungchan muttered.

“If he keeps up that pounding I’m going to get a rebound headache and he’s going to wake the entire house, please let him in,” you groaned.

The boy with you quickly moved to do so, unlocking the door and throwing it open to whisper aggressively, “Jeno! Shut the fuck up! People are still sleeping!”

“Oh. You’re dressed.”

You rolled your eyes at your friend, “I don’t know what you think a migraine is like, but getting my back blown out is pretty far down on my to-do list for immediately after.”

“How are you feeling?” Jeno was nice enough to ask as he rooted through his closet.

“Like shit. While you guys nurse actual hangovers today, I get to nurse a migraine hangover. Same awful morning after without the fun night before.”

“That sucks.” He secured a rumpled shirt and inside out pair of sweatpants. “I told Chenle you were crashing here last night, by the way. He didn’t just abandon you for shits and giggles.”

“Oh, thanks. He was sober enough to drive?”

“Mark had a Breathalyzer and everything.”

“Wow…”

“Now I recommend you two get the fuck out before everyone else wakes up and sees you sneaking out together.”

“Right,” Sungchan nodded, sitting on the edge of Jeno’s bed and pulling his shoes on.

You quickly gathered your shoes, phone, witch hat, and go bag before giving Jeno a short goodbye and following Sungchan out. The Nu Chi house was thankfully quiet as everyone was still asleep in their own rooms, save for the partygoers and brothers who had passed out on the couches in the living rooms. Once you were on the front porch, the two of you dared to speak again.

“I’ll drive you home, Y/N,” Sungchan offered.

“Mhm, thanks,” you squinted against the bright sunlight, reaching into your bag for the spare pair of sunglasses you kept in there.

He gestured to your bag. “So what all do you have in there?”

“Everything but the kitchen sink.” You sighed, finally securing your sunglasses and putting them on. They did help, but you knew there was no way you were going to avoid a rebound headache today. Realizing that Sungchan might actually have been genuinely asking and wasn’t just trying to be polite, you decided to give him a sincere answer as well. “Uh, my meds, my blood pressure cuff, earplugs, sunglasses, some snacks, other miscellaneous non-migraine related stuff like an umbrella.”

“Blood pressure cuff?” He stopped in front of a sedan parked on the street, and opened the passenger door for you.

Even through your unpleasant migraine hangover, you couldn’t help the giddy smile that crossed your lips at the gesture.

Once the both of you were in the car, you explained, “One of my medications affects my blood pressure. I have to check it every few hours, or whenever I feel kind of funny. That’s partially what the snacks are for too.”

“Really?” He started the car and pulled out into the street.

“Most of my meds I need to take with food, so keeping snacks on me makes it easy. The sweet ones are in case my blood sugar drops though.”

“Blood sugar too?”

“A different medication affects my appetite, secondary effect is on my blood sugar. Fun fact, it’s the same one that keeps me from drinking alcohol. Anyway, if you’re ever craving something sweet, I keep gummies and stuff on me usually.”

Sungchan let out a deep breath. “Wow…”

“Oh and water.” You perked up as you realized you’d forgotten something, and reached in for said item. “I've got my water bottle. I need water to take my meds, obviously, but I also need to drink water to make sure I don’t get kidney stones from my medication.”

The car had stopped at a stoplight, and he looked over at you in disbelief. “What the fuck.”

“Hey, it’s this or be entirely unable to participate in society.” You explained. “I used to get five or six migraines a week, with really bad or mild headaches constantly in between. I couldn’t do anything, they were disabling. Clearly, they still are now when I do get them, but I only get one or two a month.”

“I can’t imagine— I… yeah…” He trailed off as the light turned green, a deep frown etching itself on his features as he clearly was trying to imagine what a huge shift in his life that would be. And was having a hard time doing so.

“People without chronic illnesses usually can’t, until they get one,” you shrugged. “I know I couldn’t imagine it either. Then I got my first migraine. Then my second, and my third. I think the ‘chronic illness’ part really hit for me when I had to order my first sharps disposal bin for the monthly injections I take.”

“You’re…”

“Do not say that I’m so strong or any live laugh love type shit right now.”

He laughed, shaking his head, “No, no, not what I was going to say. I was just thinking… you’re really cool.”

“I just info-dumped about my migraines, medication, medication side effects, and treatment to you for ten minutes straight and that’s the conclusion you came to?” You asked in disbelief as he pulled into your apartment complex, and it dawned on you just how long you had been talking about yourself for. You couldn’t remember the last time you’d been that detailed with someone other than your neurologist or your mom about your condition and treatment.

Sungchan put his car in park to turn and look you in the eye. “I’m looking at the bigger picture here: You’re a Lit major, you like Gothic fiction, you’re good at writing, you’re smart and know things like death of the author and stuff, you like Pacific Rim, you’ve come to one of my games, you’re funny, and you just info-dumped to me about something personal for ten minutes. So yes, I think you’re cool. Actually, cool might be an understatement.”

“Jung Sungchan, you…” Your cheeks were hurting with how wide you were grinning. Whether it was the migraine hangover or truly from how warm and happy his words made you, you couldn’t formulate a proper response, “Congrats, I’m speechless.”

“I think that's good?” He laughed again. “Anyway, you told Jeno earlier that you felt like shit, so I won’t hold you up anymore. Rest well today, Y/N.”

“Thanks. You too, Sungchan.” You wrapped your hand around the door handle but stopped just short of actually opening it. “Oh, and uhm, I don’t know if this too eager or whatever, but I’m free tomorrow.”

His face lit up with recognition at what you were implying. “Me too. But are you going to be okay? Like, recovered?”

“Yeah, I’ve got all day today to sleep it off.”

“Okay.” He grinned.

“Okay.” You repeated. “Text me?”

“Yes, yes. I will.”

“Bye.”

And with that, you got out of his car, making sure to take your go bag that had been on your lap for the whole drive.

Halfway to your front door, you turned around to give Sungchan a final wave goodbye, and he waved back through the windshield. Once you’d finally disappeared into your apartment, he looked over at his now empty passenger seat. Well, not completely empty, he realized. Your witch hat was on the floor of the passenger side, you’d forgotten to grab it on your way out. He picked it up, gently setting it on the seat beside him. He’d just give it back to you when he saw you again for your date tomorrow.

“A date,” Sungchan sighed happily, feeling his chest swell and nearly burst with joy. “A date, a date, a date.”

Putting his car in reverse, he looked through the rear window as he muttered, “Suck an egg, Donghyuck. Man-shaped friend, my ass.”

SUNDAY, NOVEMBER 2

Sungchan picked you up at 7:00 p.m. on the dot for your first date. You made sure to take your nighttime meds early and silence your alarms so there was nothing to bother you that night. Migraines notwithstanding, of course. You still had to bring your go bag just in case you needed anything acute, but you didn’t think twice about leaving the majority of it in the car, tucking just a couple individually packaged tablets into your pocket before accepting Sungchan’s hand that he offered to you after opening your car door for you.

Walking into the movie theater with him after he bought your tickets, you were about to start off in the direction that the usher had pointed you when your date stopped you.

“You want anything from concessions?” He nodded towards the long line of other couples, families, and groups of friends.

“I’m not big on overpriced popcorn,” you shook your head with a smile. “Thanks though, Sungchan.”

“You sure you don’t want a soda or candy? How’s your, you know, blood sugar?”

It was then that your polite smile morphed into a genuine, touched one, and you squeezed his hand that you were holding. “I’m doing good, promise. I made sure I ate before. But thank you, seriously. You’re really sweet.”

“Okay, but let me know if you need anything.”

“Sungchan, can I tell you something?” You ducked your head in towards him conspiratorially.

“Yeah, of course.”

You gently shook one side of your jacket, and a muffled rattling sound came from within it. “I snuck a bag of Skittles in,” you whispered to him.

He chuckled as you dropped your jacket back down and smoothed over the inside pocket inconspicuously. “Two steps ahead of me.”

“I just didn’t want to ruin our date if I got low.”

“It’s very thoughtful, thanks.”

“So are you!” You tried to reassure him.

The two of you entered where your movie would be showing, and picked your seats. The previews had already started, so you had to drop your voices to whispers.

“But you’re going to be good with the bright light, and the sounds?” Sungchan double-checked with you.

You nodded insistently. “You’re the one who made me compile a list of stuff that I could do, remember?”

“I know, but you also came to that party knowing that it was like 100% guaranteed to give you a migraine. So I think I’ve earned some skepticism.”

“Okay, fine. You got me there,” you sighed. “But I get nothing out of suggesting things that will give me migraines other than cutting our time together short. Which I don’t want to do.”

Sungchan shifted in his seat, and when you looked over at him, you could see a small, bashful smile on his face. “Good. Glad we got that cleared up.”

The previews finally ended, and the entire theater quieted down, including you two. You settled in to watch the movie, scooting closer to your date, looping your arm under his, and resting your head on his shoulder. He hesitantly leaned his head against the top of yours.

As you left the theater hand-in-hand with Sungchan, you two were deep in discussion about the movie, and in the back of your mind, you realized with a panic that you had far too much that you wanted to say that wouldn’t fit into the short ride back to your apartment. Not to mention that you didn’t want your night with him to be over yet.

“Hey.” You called for his attention as he opened up the passenger door for you, stopping before you got in the car.

“Hey.” He offered you a lopsided grin, still holding the door open with one hand and now caging you between him and the open car door.

If the parking lot wasn’t literally swarming with other movie theater patrons, you swore you would’ve grabbed him and kissed him stupid right there and then. But a family of five walked by at that moment, so you swallowed down the itch.

“We should go somewhere,” you suggested, trying to sound equal parts nonchalant and hopeful. Which was a weird combination, you knew, but you didn’t want to come across as too desperate. Again, a ridiculous sentiment, but it was engrained in you with social conditioning or whatever.

“We just went somewhere,” he pointed out knowingly, and you swore that was a smirk that you spotted on his face in the shadowy lighting afforded by the parking lot streetlamps.

“We should go somewhere else.”

“Like where?”

“I don’t know,” you shrugged, despite how desperate you felt on the inside to just be around him right now. “Somewhere. Are you hungry?”

“Are you?”

You pressed your lips together in a thin line. “Well—”

Finally, he smiled, nodded towards the car, and said, “I know somewhere. Get in.”

Sungchan closed the car door after you before walking around to get into the driver’s side. He didn’t offer you any information or clues as to your new destination as he left the movie theater parking lot. The hockey captain drove with one hand casually holding the bottom of the steering wheel, the other tapping out the rhythm of whatever song was playing over his speakers onto his thigh. You dragged your eyes from his fingers to the passing scenery.

Honestly, you couldn’t remember the last time you’d been on a good date. Even the last date you’d been on was a distant memory. Lunch with some CompSci major your freshman year, a blind date set up by a mutual acquaintance. He just talked over you the whole time. You didn’t deign to go on a second date with him. It wasn’t that your migraines made it impossible to date—they hadn’t even come up at the date with the CompSci major (mostly because he didn’t give you the opportunity to say much of anything)—but you knew that it was always going to be something to get out of way. Either up front or at some point down the line. And it was exhausting enough for you to have to completely restructure your life around them, how could you really ask some stranger who barely knew you—or didn’t at all—to consider doing the same? It felt like it just made your dating pool even narrower, an added standard that you didn’t even get to pick.

But with Sungchan, it had happened in the worst way possible, you disappeared on him because you were having a migraine, without even having told him anything about them. And not only was he more than chill about it, he stayed with you through your entire full-blown migraine. Listened to you explain every ailment, medication, and medication complication that you have, and just tucked all that information away to keep track of your wellbeing. Taken it all in stride and made it look easy. And that was before your first date. It almost made you angry. Not at Sungchan, but at the fact that other people had ever made you feel like an inconvenience.

The car slowing to a stop knocked you from your thoughts, and you didn’t even realize that you had been silent for the entire trip. Sungchan didn’t seem to mind, though, as he hadn’t tried to start a conversation either. He put the car in park as you looked around, trying to gauge where exactly you were.

“Are we… on campus?” You turned to him with an eyebrow raised.

He was already out of the car, though, jogging around to get your door. As he opened it for you, he tilted his head innocently, “What was that?”

You stepped out, taking in your surroundings. “Are we at a campus parking garage?”

“Specifically, the top floor of Evergreen Parking Garage,” Sungchan clarified, rolling the passenger window down.

Evergreen Parking Garage was a commuter-only parking facility, meaning that this level was empty this late at night. It was also located at the furthest reaches of the north block of campus, which bordered a nature preserve, meaning that while on one side was your university campus, the other side was entirely evergreen trees. Hence the name.

Sungchan had parked on the side that faced the nature preserve, and as you turned to question your date as to why exactly he’d taken you to campus, you were instead greeted by the sight of him hunched over to lean into the open passenger window, seemingly messing around with the audio controls of the still-running car.

You tilted your head to one side, then the other as you just watched him struggle for a moment before finally speaking up. “What uh… What are you doing, Sungchan?”

He banged his head on the frame of the window as he went to stand back up. “Fuck! Ow…”

Covering your hand to muffle your giggles, you waited patiently for him to turn around and answer you.

Still clutching his head, he said with a sheepish smile, “Just give me a sec, sorry. Technical difficulties.”

And with that, he opened the door to properly sit in the passenger seat, futzing with his phone and the car radio. Finally, there was music playing from the speakers as opposed to the radio station ads, and he turned the volume up before getting back out of the car and shutting the door. With both the driver and passenger windows rolled down, you could hear the song clearly.

“I was originally going to try to take you to this lookout, but there were other cars there, so I had to keep driving by it and oh my god why did I tell you that—” He scratched the back of his head nervously. “Anyway, since we didn’t get to dance at the party…”

Sungchan offered his hand out to you, and you set yours atop it. The upbeat song that had been playing finished just then, switching to a much slower, softer one. You stepped in closer, smiling up at him as you looped your free arm around his neck. His other hand settled on your hip, and he slowly started leading you in an uncertain sway of sorts.

You let out an airy chuckle, “Was this really the kind of dancing you had in mind for a frat party?”

“Would you believe me if I said yes?” He questioned.

“Would you believe me if I said that I believed you?”

“No.”

You snickered. “Smart man.”

“But this is good, too. Better, even.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, there’s not a bunch of other drunk, sweaty, loud people everywhere knocking into us. I don’t have to worry about somebody spilling beer on me, or other guys looking at you, or the DJ picking something bad. Or you getting a migraine.” Sungchan slotted his fingers with yours. “I just get to think about you.”

You rested your head on his chest, eyes zoning out on your linked hands. It was his right hand, so his pinky finger couldn’t quite fold down along with the others. “Yeah. I like this, too,” you agreed softly.

A cool breeze gently blew across your cheek that wasn’t resting on Sungchan’s chest, and you were glad for the warmth of him pressed against your front. Your feet awkwardly bumped into each other, making you chuckle, and he apologized with a nervous laugh.

“It’s okay,” you reassured him. “I haven’t exactly taken any ballroom dancing classes. Have you?”

“Well...”

You jerked your head back to look him in the face. “You have?”

“You know how Greek life has those formals every year?”

“You’re not in a frat...”

“No, I’m not. But freshman year, Nu Chi had pitched in for this dance teacher and— God, I can’t believe I’m telling you this,” Sungchan said regretfully, tilting his head back to look up in embarrassment.

“Sungchan, come on!” You pleaded.

“Hendery swore me to secrecy...”

“Well now you have to tell me!”

“Hendery’s date couldn’t make it to one of the lessons, so he asked me to fill in for her...”

Your jaw dropped with delight, “Was his date an Amazon? How did that work? He couldn’t have possibly dipped you! Or twirled you!”

“She was taller than him, to be fair,” he admitted. “Nothing that couldn’t be adjusted for with some thick soles, but, you know...”

“You’re such a good friend, Sungchan,” you said through a couple of giggles, imagining the two of them attempting the aforementioned twirls and dips.

He dropped his head, shaking it. “Right, thanks.”

“So I guess I should be leading then, hm?” You teased, your feet bumping his again in that moment.

“I feel like you’d lead us over the edge of this parking deck, Y/N,” he joked.

Before you could make a retort, he stepped back from you to gently twirl you around by the hand, and a cross between a surprised yelp and a laugh tumbled from your mouth. As he brought you back into his chest, you could barely think over the joyful buzzing in your head that resonated out to every square inch of your body.

“Okay, okay, I guess you can lead,” you surrendered, looping your arm back around his neck again.

After some time, the songs had picked up tempo again, but you and Sungchan were long past actually dancing to them. You were more so just holding each other, leisurely swaying, and from here you got to listen to the sounds of his breathing. He’d taken to rubbing absentminded circles into your hip with his thumb, and the fingers of your arm that was around his neck had dipped below the material of his collar, resting on his bare skin.

“Sungchan?” You murmured.

“Yes?” He responded, his voice rumbling right under your ear.

“Thank you for not making me do this in front of a bunch of other cars at the other lookout.”

He let out a couple quiet laughs, his chest shaking with each. “You’re welcome. I figured all of the teens making out in their cars also didn’t want to watch us do this either.”

You mock gasped, pretending to sound scandalized, “You were going to take me to a lover’s lookout? On the first date? Jung Sungchan…”

“Who are you, my grandma? Nobody calls it that anymore.” He pinched your side. “And only because it’s actually got a great view over the city and—”

“I’m kidding, Sungchan.” You pinched him back, lightly, on the nape of the neck. “Besides, I wouldn’t have been opposed to a trip to a lover’s lookout with you anyway…”

You heard the breath hitch in his throat, then Sungchan swallowed and inhaled through his nose, before he finally spoke, “Really?”

His grip on your hip tightened, sending a bolt of electricity along your skin out from the contact point. You brought your head out of his chest and used your arm around his neck to draw him in even closer.

“Really,” you echoed, blatantly staring at his lips now that they were centimeters away from yours. “And it looks like we’ve got our own right here.”

Then Sungchan was using his hold on your hip to push you back step by step until your back was against the side of his car. Your own arm around his neck kept him anchored to you as he stood hovering over you, blotting out any light that would’ve come from the light post above you. Your noses were almost touching, your breaths mingling in the negligible space between your mouths. You were looking at Sungchan’s eyes now, usually a warm, deep brown, now all inky blackness in the dark of night, and staring down at your own mouth. Your tongue instinctually darted out to wet your lips, and that seemed to be the final straw.

His mouth on yours was desperate, but not desperate to get laid, like your previous lover’s lookout banter might imply. Like he was just desperate for you. He stole kiss after kiss from your lips, but never forced his tongue into your mouth, nor moved his hands anywhere else. Despite leaning more and more of his weight forward onto you, utterly pinning you to the car, he kept his bruising grip on your hip and never let go of your hand.

You parted your mouth with a bedraggled gasp of his name, and he finally took this as an invite to slip his tongue into the mix. You shifted to rest the hand that was laced with his above your head, on the roof of the sedan, giving his hand a squeeze. He squeezed your hand back.

Turning your head and breaking the kiss, you hoped he’d get the idea as you continued laying there half-spread out under him. He did, thankfully, kissing from the corner of your mouth across your cheek and down your jaw and neck.

“Sung…chan…” You breathed out his name, stroking the back of his head with your free hand as his lips latched onto a spot at the base of your neck.

Trailing your hand down further, you snuck it up under the hem of his shirt, feeling over the expanse of his chest and stomach. Oh fuck yeah, hockey players. You pulled the article of clothing up towards his head insistently, and he detached from your neck for the two of you to jointly strip him of it. Oh fuck yeah, hockey players. You truly didn’t know if he looked or felt better, but you couldn’t ogle him for long, because he was back on top of you as soon as he’d thrown the shirt into the front seat via the open passenger window beside you. His lips were so warm on yours, his skin even hotter under your touch now as you unabashedly felt up every inch of it and the muscles underneath.

But soon that wasn’t enough either, and you were fumbling at his pants button. He groaned into your mouth, the sound vibrating down into your own chest, as his hand snapped around your wrist.

“Ahh…” He hissed regretfully.

“What?” You looked up at him with wide eyes.

“I can’t get my dick out in public.”

You glanced at the car behind you, with its tinted windows, then back at Sungchan. He met your eyes, then shrugged. “That’ll work.”

It was a mad scramble to get the door to the backseat open, so much so that you accidentally smacked Sungchan in the leg with said door. After lots of apologies through giggles, both of you were in the backseat with the doors closed and locked. Sungchan had the task of awkwardly reaching forward over the console to roll the windows back up first, during which you made a couple observations about his backseat, which you hadn’t seen much of before. His practice bag for hockey was back here—which was different than his gear bag, as you’d already been told. The gear bag actually had his equipment that he needed to play with like mouth guards, sticks, and all of that, while his practice bag had more personal stuff like changes of clothes or hygiene products. You figured his gear bag was either in the trunk or at the rink, as he didn’t always need to carry it back and forth with him. But other than the practice bag and a couple of reusable grocery bags on the floor, the backseat was pretty clean. You were genuinely impressed, especially because he made it sound like he tended to chauffeur a lot of his teammates/roommates around frequently.

Sungchan eventually reentered the backseat fully, focusing a content, closed-lip smile on you. You’d taken it upon yourself to lay down on the seat, your knees propped up by your feet. He settled in to kneel on the same cushion as your feet, but just rested an arm on your knees and his chin atop that forearm to gaze down at you, still smiling.

“What? What’s that smile for?” You asked, starting to feel a bit self-conscious.

“Nothing, I just—” He reached both his hands out towards you, fingers spread, and you got the idea, linking yours with them. “I hope you don’t get the wrong idea. I want this to be a real thing, Y/N. Like, I don’t just want to sleep with you. I don’t even do this kind of stuff—car sex on the first date in a campus parking garage?—literally ever. I’m just kinda crazy about you. I know for most people usually it’s the opposite; you know, they save it for later for really important people. They try to make it special, but I know it’ll be special just because it’s you.”

“Sungchan... I’ve never done something like this either,” you admitted, squeezing both of his hands tight. “I think I’m just kinda crazy about you too.”

“Okay. Cool.” He beamed at you, and you felt your insides turn to mush in that moment. You didn’t think they’d ever un-mush again.

“Now can you please take my clothes off before I spontaneously combust?”

“Fuck. Yeah.” He nodded, immediately turning serious as his brow furrowed and he leaned forward to lock his lips with yours again, propping himself up with one hand to hover above you.

You let your knees fall apart to give him room to settle in between your legs. He pulled at your jacket first, and you sat up to help yank it off, dropping it to the floor with his practice bag. With you no longer laying down, he could use two hands to get the next part, your top. His fingertips skimmed along your skin as he grabbed the hem. You broke the kiss so he could start pulling the clothing up your body—

A loud knock against the driver’s side window quite literally made you scream, and Sungchan jerked up and hit his head once again, this time on the roof of the car. You tugged your shirt back down to cover you, ducking to lay flat on the seat as Sungchan looked at you with panic in his eyes.

Another knock came at the window, this time accompanied by a man’s voice, “Campus security! Roll the window down or I’m going to ask you to turn the car off and step out!”

“Just a second!” Sungchan yelled back, a noticeable crack in his voice. He had a difficult time maneuvering his lanky body over the console fully into the driver’s seat again.

“Now!” The man called out again. “Three! Two!”

Sungchan didn’t have time to put on his shirt before ‘one,’ and he rushed to roll the window down. A flashlight was immediately shone into the car, and you didn’t doubt your own visibility to the security officer. You were remaining laying down for your own mental wellbeing at this point. You didn’t think that you could deal with looking this man in the eye right now.

You didn’t know if it was wisdom or embarrassment that kept your date from saying anything, but he thankfully didn’t speak until spoken to, not offering up any incriminating information. After five entire seconds of silence, the officer let out an audible sigh.

“No overnight parking in this garage,” he said, his tone making it very clear that he knew that was not what was going on. “I’ll be back in five minutes and if you’re still here, you’re getting a ticket.”

“Yes, sir,” Sungchan replied.

“I’m sure that the captain of our hockey team wouldn’t want to get put on probation at the beginning of the season.”

“N-No, sir.” His voice cracked again.

The security officer grunted, but said nothing more. You heard Sungchan roll the window back up, then the sound of another car driving away. Slowly, Sungchan turned around to look at you over the console with wide, horrified eyes.

“He knew who I was…” He whispered. “That was the most terrifying 45 seconds of my life.”

“You’re famous, Sungchan,” you teased, sitting up in the backseat now that the coast was clear.

“Yeah, and fame has got so many perks so far.”

“Almost got into your first scandal already.” You clicked your tongue disapprovingly. “Caught with a girl in your backseat. What will the fans say?”

“Considering my fans are all frat bros, probably something along the lines of wolf whistles and incoherent, congratulatory lewd jeering.”

You couldn’t help but laugh, able to picture that perfectly considering you’d already gotten a taste at the first home game you’d gone to. “Sounds about right.”

“Anyway, I should take you home before that guy comes back.”

“Good idea.” You slipped your jacket back on.

“Are you going to come up here or am I your chauffeur?”

“I suppose I’ll sit up there with you,” you sighed, opening the backseat to get out and into the front normally since there was no security man around.

Back in the passenger seat, you handed Sungchan’s shirt back to him, “Here, have some decency. You’re the captain of the hockey team, you know.”

“I’m sorry, who was going to spontaneously combust if we didn’t get naked in the next 0.2 seconds?” He scoffed, pulling his top back on.

“I don’t recall.”

“Sure.”

“And who’s still hard in their jeans right now?”

“Don’t remind me, I have to drive like this,” he groaned, taking the car out of park with a shake of his head.

As Sungchan drove with one hand, the other reached over to take yours, lacing his fingers together with yours.

THURSDAY, NOVEMBER 6

Just a few days later, and you were at the rink again, eagerly watching the hockey game in front of you. Chenle was beside you, continuing his constant sports commentary on every play that happened. You still mostly tuned it out, but you were pretty sure you at least understood most of the basic rules that Taeyong had explained to you before. You kept your eyes on Sungchan, cheering him on along with the other various Nu Chi brothers around you and other fans in the stands. It wasn’t as full of a house as it had been for the first home game, but you were perfectly content to have a slightly quieter environment.

Sungchan happened to skate by your section as everyone was resetting their positions, giving you a wave through the clear barrier. You gave him a slightly bashful but nevertheless bright grin as you waved back.

“So are you two like... dating now?” Hendery asked from your other side, leaned forward with both of his elbows on his knees as he watched the game. He looked back at you over his shoulder with a shit-eating grin, though, one that made you roll your eyes.

“I don’t know. We’ve been on a date. I mean, there was the Halloween party, but I got a migraine so I don’t think that really counts, so— I don’t have to explain myself to you!” You scowled at him, shoving him away by his shoulder.

He laughed as he let himself get jostled around in his seat from the push, holding his hands up in surrender. “Just curious. Unlike your bestie over there, I think you two are adorable.”

“What?” You looked over at Chenle, who Hendery had pointed at.

Chenle had apparently been listening enough to be able to jump in to defend himself. “It’s not what it sounds like. I think you two are great, promise.”

You turned back to your other friend. “Then what the hell are you talking about, Hendery?”

“He just doesn’t want to lose,” the Nu Chi member explained. “I pegged Sungchan’s huge crush on you on day 1 of Dr. Son’s class. Once the Phanta Phour stuff started, I knew that boy had no chance. Chenle just didn’t think you’d ever... hold on, how’d he put it... be into uh, ‘Neanderthal frat-bro-in-law types.’”

“I was maybe a bit tipsy...” Chenle added in.

“So you made a bet on if Sungchan and I would get together? In four whole years?” You looked from left to right between them.

“Loser has to buy winner a 12-pack,” Hendery confirmed with that same grin. “When Phantasmagorical Phriday ended this year, I really thought I’d lost. But then you turned up at the game last week and I figured Sungchan just might score himself a buzzer beater.”

“You two need to get better hobbies,” you declared with a snort.

“This so counts as sudden-death OT, but whatever,” Chenle scoffed under his breath.

You smacked him across the chest. “And don’t call my dating life ‘sudden death’ either.”

“Hey.” He said softly, grabbing your arm, and you turned your head to meet his gaze. “I really was worried about you going to the Halloween party with your head. I swear.”

“I know, LeLe,” you nodded, giving him a reassuring smile. “You did some great wingmanning once we got there.”

The brief flash of sincerity you got from your best friend was over as quick as it had come, as you heard the crash of helmets on the ice, and both your focuses were drawn back to the game. Two players had collided into each other and the clear barrier right in front of your faces. You grimaced sympathetically as you tried to identify the player from your team. 23— Jeno, ah, he’d be alright. And you were right, he took off almost immediately as the other guy was left behind still dazed.

At the end of the game, with the buzz of another win in your veins and the anticipation of seeing Sungchan thrumming along your skin, you bounced on your heels as you waited in the lobby. You weren't paying attention to the ecstatic, dramatic recollections that Chenle and the Nu Chi brothers were giving of specific plays around you, your gaze entirely focused on the locker room exit.

The very first player to leave was Sungchan, his eyes already scanning the crowd. Without a second thought, you darted over to him, ignoring the couple of whoops and whistles you two got from your friends.

Sungchan beamed down at you as he went to pull you into a hug, and you were immediately enveloped in the smell of the freshly washed clothes that you’d caught last time. This time, though, there was the distinct, crisp smell of ice rink ice under it as well, reminding you of when you’d go ice skating with friends.

“Hey,” you smiled up at him as he let you go, but didn’t step back very far. “You played really good again. I’m pretty sure. A bit more sure than I was last time.”

He was still grinning, looking down at the floor then back up at you before he responded, “Thank you. And I don’t really expect you to become a hockey pro or anything if all that doesn’t interest you. As long as you don’t expect me to remember what death of the author is.”

“This was only my second game, have some faith in me!” You cried out indignantly. “And no, I don’t expect you to become a full-blown literary critic either.”

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” he apologized through a couple of poorly suppressed giggles. “I do believe in you. I just didn’t want you to feel like you had to learn boring sports stuff for me.”

“I do want to be able to follow the basics of a game without Chenle or Taeyong annotating it for me, at least.”

“Oh, yeah, you can definitely do that. Might need to come to a few more games, though...”

You nodded giddily. “Just let me know when the home games are and I’m there.”

“Yo!” A voice had called from the gaggle of guys heading towards the exit. You didn’t even realize that the rest of the team had left the locker room in the time that you’d been talking to Sungchan.

While you couldn’t tell who had gotten your attention, it was Donghyuck that asked, “Are you two coming or are you just going to keep making moony eyes at each other all night?”

“Yeah, Sungchan, you’re our ride!” Yangyang yelled out from somewhere.

“DD!” Jeno cheered.

“I’ll drive you two,” Mark offered with a shake of his head.

“Shotgun!” The two of them immediately dibs-ed in unison.

“Sorry, bitches, I’m his little,” Donghyuck declared. “That means eternal dibs on shotgun in Mark’s car.”

The frat president scoffed, “You only give a shit about that when it directly benefits you.”

“You guys go ahead,” Sungchan cut into their bickering. “We’re right behind you.”

After they had all filed out, he looked back down at you, a nervous smile worming across his face. “Sorry about that...”

“It’s okay,” you said. “So... you ready to go?”

The two of you had already discussed going to the after-game celebrations with the team before this. Sungchan texted you last night to check in and make sure you’d be okay with going from the loud game to a noisy bar/pool hall with a bunch of frat guys after. You’d assured him that you’d be okay as long as you sat away from any music speakers at the bar, and he’d in turn made you promise to tell him if you needed to leave early.

However, he now halted you as you were slowly turning towards the exit. “Wait, I want to try this again.”

With a sneaking suspicion of what he was about to do, you assured him, “Sungchan, you don’t have to—”

“Let me do this. Please.” He gave you those same eyes that had convinced you to go to a frat party in the first place, and you were squaring your shoulders back to face him, giving him a firm nod.

“Okay. Go for it.”

He asked casually, “So, did you drive yourself?”

You had to hold back a laugh, covering your mouth to straighten your face before replying coyly, “Oh, me? I walked. My apartment is close.”

“So, the team all goes out to this bar after home games. It’s a pretty sleazy dive bar, and I know it’s a Thursday night, but I’d really like for you to come with me. I’ll buy you a... soda.”

“I would love to come, Sungchan,” you giggled, adjusting your purse strap.

“Awesome,” he grinned, wrapping an arm around your shoulders.

As you walked up to the passenger side of his car with him, you suddenly realized something. “Wait, did you have your car last time, too?”

“Maybe?” He rubbed the back of his neck, reaching for the door handle to open it for you.

“Then why did you walk me home?”

“To spend more time with you?”

You stole a quick kiss before ducking into the passenger seat.

Squished into one side of a booth with Sungchan’s arm around you, you chatted happily with Chenle, Ten, and Sicheng, who were sitting opposite from you. The team and cheer section were spread out between a couple booths and tables near each other, a few of them up playing pool too. You sipped on your soda between discussions about tonight’s game, upcoming games, classes, or whatever else struck you all. Currently, you were locked in a conversation with Ten about the most recent assigned reading in a class that you two shared together this semester.

“I thought that scene had a lot of great allusions back to the earlier one with her mother and the pie baking,” you gushed.

“Really?” Ten tilted his head curiously. “I was seeing it more as a continuation of the cannibalism-sex-love metaphor, since they were eating figs, you know.”

You nodded knowingly. “That’s true. Everything’s about sex—”

“Except sex.” You two finished quoting your professor in unison.

“And then with figs, there’s the Bible interpretation, of course,” you continued.

“Always the Bible.”

“We can never escape what John Milton did for Christian fanfiction, truly.”

“But I do like the pie scene connection the more that I think about it, actually.” Ten knocked back the rest of his cocktail. “And, tying her mother into the cannibalism metaphor could be a fascinating angle, too.”

Your eyes widened as you were practically vibrating your seat with excitement now. “Yeah, her earliest memory being of food, parental love, and harm...”

“Anyway, I need a refill.” Your friend shook his glass of ice with a smile. “Be back. Good chat as always, Y/N.”

Chenle and Sicheng scooted out of the booth to let Ten out, the former heading off towards the restrooms while the co-captain followed his roommate to the bar, leaving just you and Sungchan. You continued musing over the new connections you’d just made in the text as you turned your gaze back over to Sungchan beside you. He was already looking at you, a fond half-smile on his face.

“Hi.” He said quietly.

“Hi,” you replied, just as quiet.

Sungchan took a swig of his drink, then eyed yours. “You haven’t drunk any water since we get here.”

He’d been sure to not only order your promised soda of choice, but also water, and as you now looked over at your two cups, you could tell that the water had not been touched at all while the soda was practically empty.

“Oh uh, I guess I haven’t.”

“Drink some.” He pushed it towards you insistently. “Can’t have you getting kidney stones on my watch.”

“Okay, okay.” You acquiesced easily, switching your straw over to that glass and chugging a quarter of it in one go. “Better?”

“Much.” He nodded in satisfaction. “So what were you and Ten saying about pies and sex or whatever? Sex isn’t about sex?”

“Oh, it’s just something one of our professors says a lot. ‘Everything is about sex except sex.’ For lit analysis. In literature, pretty much everything is about sex. Or can be. You can turn like, anything in a piece of text into an innuendo or euphemism if you wanted to. Except for sex. Like, if a sex scene is included in a piece of literature, it’s not actually about the sex that’s being depicted. The sex is meant to represent something else. Like politics, or social structures, or whatever other themes are present in the work. Unless you’re just reading porn. But even then, there’s artistic merit to erotica, and plenty to be learned about the social structures at the time it was written, too.”

Sungchan hadn’t blinked the entire time you’d been rambling on, and upon you finally stopping, blinked in rapid succession as he seemed to come to from a daze. “Wow. Uh, interesting. Filing that away with death of the author.”

“Sungchan...” You leaned in to whisper, placing a hand on the inside of his thigh, just above his knee. His leg jumped, knocking his knee into the tabletop. Your hand had narrowly avoided being smashed too, saved only by its position curled around his leg instead of directly on top. You didn’t move it up or down now though, simply tapping your index finger against the loose material of his sweatpants as you giggled. “What are you thinking about?”

He cleared his throat a couple of times. “How you still have three-quarters of that glass of water left to drink.”

You laughed, slumping to relax into his side and pulling your hand back up to a more casual position on top of his leg. With your other hand, you grabbed your water. “Alright, fine.”

Not too long after your water had been drained, Sungchan was driving you home. Some of your other friends had taken off as well, and you didn't put up too much of a protest when he offered. As your familiar building came into view, you suddenly remembered something.

“Oh, visitor’s parking is over there. Sorry, forgot to mention before.” You pointed to a few parking spots painted with yellow lines instead of white, further away from the apartment entrances than the resident parking. “They’re a bit picky. Chenle got towed after like, five minutes one time.”

“Got it. Thanks.” Sungchan smoothly turned the wheel to pull into one of the open visitor’s spots.

Your reason for showing it to him was two-fold. One, to let him know you hoped he’d be coming over more often, so he’d need that information for future reference. And two, for perhaps less innocent ulterior motives tonight. Truly, your apartment complex only towed people after dark. Overnight visitors. Chenle’s five-minute tow had been a fluke.

“I’ll walk you to your door,” he said with no prompting, and you had to hold in a sigh of relief.

Instead, you gave him a genuine smile. “Thanks, Sungchan.”

“I don’t think I thanked you for coming tonight. To the game.” He slowly meandered up the sidewalk with you, hand holding yours.

“Thanks for inviting me again. I had a lot of fun.” You squeezed his hand.

Your front door loomed in the not-so-distant distance.

“Uh, are you busy this weekend?” He rushed to ask. “I have Saturday morning practice, at 7:30, but it’s over at 9:00, and after that I’m free.”

So that’s why he had texted you at seven in the morning to congratulate you on winning Phantasmagorical Phriday.

“No, I’m not busy. I’d love to do something, just pick from the list I sent you. Surprise me, hm?”

“Will do.”

You were finally on your front welcome mat, and watched his face fall as he seemed to be drawing a blank about how else to prolong your night. But you had an idea.

You didn’t let an alarm or anything else possibly have the chance to interrupt you, grabbing the back of his neck and pulling his mouth down to yours. He stumbled forward at you suddenly yanking him off-balance, catching himself with one hand on your front door and the other on your doorframe. Then, he dropped a hand to the small of your back, drawing you in even closer as he tilted his head to deepen the kiss.

Disconnected just enough to murmur against his lips, you asked, “Do you want to come in?”

“Please?” He replied with a nearly sheepish chuckle.

“So polite,” you quipped.

You gave him one more peck before turning around to unlock your door and drag him in by the arm.

➠ sequel | series masterlist | blog masterlist

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jungwooisms · 2 years

Text

hwarang | kun

ACT III - THE END

pairing: qian kun x female!reader genre: historical au, fluff, angst, supernatural members: moon taeil, lee taeyong, nakamoto yuta, li yongqin (ten), jeong jaehyun, wong yukhei (lucas), xiao dejun (xiaojun), wong kunhang (hendery), huang renjun, na jaemin, lee donghyuck (haechan), osaki shotaro, warnings: crass humor and language, blood, violence, injuries, alcohol, major character death, minor character death, war, historical inaccuracies for the sake of plot progression word count: 43.2k it is important to read the prologue & act i & act ii first to understand the context of this! i can’t link it here but it’s on my masterlist!

June 7, 665 – Seonggwa Inn, Ungjin, Kingdom of Silla By the time that the Hwarang finish following King Munmu of Silla to Ungjin, they find themselves holed up in Seonggwa Inn, a relatively spacious lodging, as their king speaks of a treaty between his kingdom and the Tang. With each day, the Hwarang hope that the potential of invading Goguryeo due to their aiding and abetting with the now quelled Baekje forces becomes a reality.

Silla hadn’t lost the conflict with Baekje, without the aid of the Tang the story would be entirely different though. Yet, with their aid, it had begun to expose several rifts in both the Crown and the Hwarang in favor for or against the additional help.

The recent attack on Taeil’s life, as well as Yongqin’s illness, has confined both of them to staying with Doctor Namekawa Yasuo to treat them. So, while they don’t remain at the newest Hwarang headquarters, they still reside within Ungjin. Although present in spirit, some of the men have begun to notice their rather large absences…

“He’s probably just run off to not have to deal with this shit,” one of the warriors guffaws at the thought of Taeil not returning. A few others around him return the sentiment.

“He’d never do that,” a serious voice responds, you turn to see Jeno looking angrily at the group, “All of you are complaining instead of focusing on the work we have ahead of us.”

Normally such insubordination from a lower wang-do was met with harsh consequences, yet things had changed since coming to Ungjin.

“You all have too much to talk about, go sharpen your swords or train,” Yukhei adds to Jeno’s proclamation.

With grumbled acceptance, several of the Hwarang run off.

“I can see where they’re coming from… They’re tired, I suppose,” Jaehyun huffs out, shaking his head as he watches the other scurry away. “We’ve been sitting here without orders for weeks.”

“True, but I mean… What else are we going to do while Munmu’s off kissing up to the Tang?” Yukhei frowns, moving his head from side to side to crack his joints.

“Don’t give me that bullshit,” Jaehyun retorts, “These men were ready to die for him not too long ago, I’m pretty sure they just want to run out the loyalists and Goguryeo soldiers just like we do.”

“So…” Jeno murmurs, “What’s going to happen now?

“Taeil’s stuck in bed. Even if we wanted to run after the traitors, we’re not going to be able to touch them if we leave too late,” Yukhei sighs, his shoulders slumping. “Future’s looking pretty dark if we’re looking north… Maybe we oughta head to Jinro-dong again…”

“Jinro-dong?” Jaehyun’s brow furrows at the mention of the nightlife district, “Really? In a time like this?”

“Of course you idiot,” Yukhei scoffs, “Times like this are when we need to party hard! Gotta lift our spirits somehow!”

“Huh,” Sungchan, who’d been standing in the courtyard along you all quietly, asks, “Does anyone know where Yuta is? I haven’t seen him around lately…”

“He’s off helping Namekawa,” Jaehyun explains, “We still have a lot of injured men after the last fight.”

You frown, not saying anything. Memories of the peaceful times back in Seorabeol are like a candle flickering in the wind, one breath away from turning it all into smoke. Sometimes you have to ask yourself if they really had happened at all.

June 18, 665 – Ungjin, Kingdom of Silla When you hear footsteps walking up the entranceway of the inn, you think it’s just another Hwarang returning from town until…

“Hello,” a soft voice greets, “It’s been a while.”

“Oh,” Your eyes widen upon looking up from your work and finding Kim Jungwoo standing before you. “Jungwoo… What brings you here?”

“I've come to discuss a few important matters with Kun, would you mind taking me to him?” He asks as his shoe slowly taps at the gravelly rocks underfoot.

Sometime after you lead him to the Commander’s quarters, murmurs of conversation suddenly become exclamation.

“Are you sure?!” Kun says angrily as you peer into the room.

“Yes,” Jungwoo nods solemnly, eyes trained on the floor, “Supposedly, an urgent matter has arisen, meaning he cannot meet with us.”

“… No.” Kun frowns as he shakes his head, “We need to talk to him. I don’t care how. If we don’t, we’re stuck here. I’ll go.” And with that, he storms towards you, toward the exit. He doesn’t acknowledge you as he goes, only looking as pensive as ever as he leaves the compound.

“Did something happen?” You ask Jungwoo, who’s gaze had risen to watch the Hwarang leave.

“Kun had planned to meet with a member of the king’s council today, but I’d been informed that the man hadn’t planned on showing up, so I came to notify him.” Jungwoo explains quickly.

The Commander has been attempting to gather council support to try and speed up the process of invasion, however their unwillingness to try and sway the king’s favor has led to them not entertaining Kun’s initiative means.

“Do you think they’re just waiting until Tang makes a call?” You question timidly.

“Whatever the case, the King has instructed me to not make any rash decisions,” Jungwoo hums, “Honestly, in times like these, I am a little envious of Kun as he can do as he pleases… Anyway, I will be leaving now. Please send my regards to everyone.”

“Oh, of course!” You say as you begin to walk with him towards the entrance. “I’m sorry that I couldn’t offer you more courtesy while you were here.”

Shortly after Jungwoo leaves the inn, a familiar figure approaches you to ask a question.

“Is the Commander inside?” Shotaro says as you stop outside the front door.

“Ah,” you shake your head, “You’ve just missed him, he’s stepped out for the time being… Did you have business with him?”

Shotaro’s eyebrows raise in surprise, “Wow, ever since we’ve gotten here, he’s been working non-stop.

“I know… I seriously wonder how he finds the time to sleep, if at all.” As far as you know, Kun should be suffering in agonizing pain during the daytime due to his condition as a Fury. However, seeing him work as tirelessly as he does, one would have no clue of his affliction at all.

“Are you okay, Shotaro? You look a bit more gaunt than usual…”

“Ah… Well… Ever since Minhyung passed away, I’ve had a lot more work to do.” Shotaro smiles sadly, “But he left it to me, and I’ll be damned if I dishonor his memory by messing it up. And seeing how far the Commander’s pushing himself for us, it wouldn’t feel right if I just sat around here all day, you know?”

“I see…” You know exactly how he feels, yet he’s actually in a position to contribute. Unlike Shotaro, there is nothing you can do for Kun, even though you yearn to be involved and do whatever you can to help.

“Well,” Shotaro nods briefly, “I’ve got plenty more to do, so I’ll be on my way.”

“Of course, please be careful.”

“By the way,” he’d begun walking before stopping himself, “There’s been a lot of killers on the street recently, looking to test their swords on a living body. Don’t travel alone, okay?”

Later that night, you’re waiting in the empty common room for the captains to return, sitting idly as your fingers tap atop the table you’re seated at when Na Jaemin comes strolling into the room.

“Evening!” He greets cheerily, moving to come over and sit beside you.

“Hey Jaemin,” you say politely, peering around him to see if anyone else has followed in behind him. “Where’s everyone else?”

“Yukhei and Jaehyun took the men to Jinro-dong, and, if you can believe it, they left me behind to house-sit.” He sighs out, resting his head on his chin, “I’m not their maid, you know. They can’t keep giving me this kind of bitch work… Well, I guess it’s nice that they’re acting like usual. To me, I mean. Like nothing ever changed.” His laugh sounds small in the empty hall.

“That reminds me, do you know where Taeyong is?” You tilt your head inquisitively as you ask. “Did he go out somewhere?”

“Yeah,” Jaemin sits up, nodding his head, “He went out on patrol.”

“Patrol?” You furrow your brow, “But we’re not in Seorabeol any more… No one’s asked us to keep peace in Ungjin…”

His face grows solemn, as if he’s quietly searching for words. “… He’s been acting weird lately. Like, today, soon as the sun went down, he said he was going on patrol. I asked if he wanted me to go with him but he said he’d be just fine on his own.”

“I’ve heard that there’s been a lot of killings at night recently, maybe he’s going out to try to learn about who or what’s causing it?” Taeyong may not have the same authority here that they had in Seorabeol, but they do still work for the Crown. Perhaps Taeyong’s just trying to protect Ungjin, regardless if he was asked to or not.

“…Well, if that’s the deal, then good.” Jaemin doesn’t sound fully convinced.

Just then, the door opens once more and Kun comes inside quietly.

“Good evening, Commander,” you greet him with a small smile.

“You’re still up?” His face is pale, but his tone is sharp. As you watch him, you can see that it looks as if he’s struggling to stand. He shakes slightly as he moves, and you get the feeling that if he were to let his concentration slip, he’d just simply collapse on the floor in front of you.

“Is there anything I can do to help?” You already know his answer, but you can’t help but to ask.

“No,” he shakes his head, “Just stay put, and stop thinking about that.”

Even though everyone else is working themselves thin, barely sleeping or eating, all you can do is sit around, useless.

“Hey… Don’t give me that look,” he says, noting your expression.

“I’m sorry!” You say quickly, only realizing after you’d spoken that you’ve only made things worse. And apologizing makes you sound all the more miserable.

Kun nearly chuckles, “You don’t need to worry about us. Just… go make some tea, alright? Your tea isn’t that bad, I guess.”

“Okay!” You rise to your feet, “I’ll be right back.” Your feet carry you to the kitchen, a slight smile curving along your lips.

You return to the common room some minutes later, a tray with three cups atop it, along with the hot teapot steaming into the night.

“I couldn’t find any yakgwa to go with it… but I was able to sneak a few of Taeil’s old snacks…” You say as you set the tray atop the table.

“It’s alright,” Kun sighs, now sitting down at the table. “I have to get back to work as soon as I drink this anyway.”

“Are you sure you’re going to be alright?” Jaemin frowns worriedly, “You’re a Fury now. You should be sleeping during the day and working at night.”

Kun doesn’t answer, just chooses to sip at his tea for a long drawn-out moment. “When we were leaving Daegaya, Taeil said something to me. He said that if he were the King, even if he only had two hundred men, he would continue to push forward for the legacy of our Kingdom, and if he failed? Gut himself like an honorable warrior.” He huffs out a short laugh, “Now he’s stuck in bed, shot in the shoulder. He’d die for any one of us, and we all know it. Sure, I feel like shit, but that doesn’t mean I get to rest.”

The prospect of handing over a fully-functioning Hwarang back to his friend brings a gleam to his eyes. If the rest of the men are worried because their leader has been wounded by a coward's arrow… Kun is buoyed by the fact that Taeil is still alive, and that he has the courage to do what other leaders will not. He finishes his tea quickly, returning to his room with only perfunctory thanks.

Yesterday, his light had stayed on late into the night. Today, you’re sure, will likely be no different.

“I’ve got an anxious feeling about what’s ahead…” Jaemin says after Kun’s left, “He’s a Fury, but it doesn’t look as if he’s started to feel the bloodlust yet.”

“Bloodlust?”

“When you become a Fury… Something happens to you and, well, sometimes you really, really want to drink blood. Like, you need to,” he explains slowly, “It hurts, and not like how it hurts when Jeong shoves a practice sword into your gut. You want to die, just because that’ll make the pain stop.”

Your mouth hangs open. Kun already looks terrible, if unbearable pain is suddenly added to his already long list of burdens… “Is there any way to do anything about it?”

“Well, if you drink some blood, then it goes away almost immediately, but… only for a while.” Jaemin sighs out, “And the longer you go, the more painful it gets. At first you only need a little blood to feel better, but after a while you need more. And pretty soon you’ll need a whole lot before you feel better again.”

You sit there at a loss for words. Furies truly do seem like the monsters from legends.

“What about you, Jaemin? Are you…?”

“Come on,” he closes his eyes, unable to look at you, “You can’t ask me that.” After this, he makes some manner of excuse and shoots up. He departs from the common room quietly, leaving you alone with your thoughts of the commander. Is he really okay?

Lost in thoughts, you stumble upon something—your father had done research on the Furies. Perhaps he’d left something useful behind at your home… or the one that used to be yours. It’s already too late to visit… And finding an escort will be troublesome enough…

June 25, 665 – Toehwa-hyeon, Kingdom of Silla The following day, you leave a neatly written note behind at the inn for anyone who may be curious as to where you’re headed. It had only taken you a week, maybe less, to return to your home on the main roads… And it should take about that time to return.

It seems as if no one’s visited the home in several years, everything covered in a thick layer of dust. You hum to yourself, perusing the shelves and drawers for anything denoting your father’s research on the Furies. Hands brushing off a few books, you scan their contents only for them to reveal some barely legible scribbles that would take you forever to decipher.

‘No…’ You shake your head, this is the least you can do for the Hwarang.

After searching through several more books, you sit on the floor, sighing heavily as your eyes fall to the unkempt floor. Have you been foolish enough to think that this would work? That waltzing in, finding these secret documents and solving the Hwarang’s plague would be easy?

You frown, needing to rid these thoughts. So, you continue to flip through all the books and papers you can lay your hands on. As you skim through a large sheaf of papers a small stak falls onto the floor, dust flying upwards as it lands. It appears to be… some kind of formula?

“Huh?” You murmur, moving to place down the stack in your hands, reaching for the papers at your feet. Studying it, you realize what you’ve found. It details a mismade concoction your father had made after working with the Hwarang that could stop Furies’ bloodlust for a time. Maybe you’ve found something useful after all?

July 1st, 665 – Ungjin, Kingdom of Silla You arrive in Ungjin just as the sun settles beyond the western horizon, and as you enter the Hwarang’s compound, you’re met with Jaemin and Taeyong. Their backs turned to you, you call out to them to make sure they can hear you.

“You’re back?” His brow raises inquisitively, as if he’d not known if you were coming back. “It’s dangerous out there, you know. You shouldn’t be out at night all by yourself.”

“I meant to come back earlier… The roads were… I lost track of time, is all,” You say quickly, trying to change the subject. “Anyway! I have something for you!”

You reach into your bag, procuring the medicine you were able to make from your father’s old supplies.

“What’s this?” Taeyong questions as he looks over the powdery substance.

“It’s medicine to suppress bloodlust! I went back home and found instructions on how to make it,” you nod enthusiastically, “It should make the pain go away, at least for a little while.

His gaze looks from the medicine to you, biting his lip coyly before looking into your eyes, “Thank you, but no. Your gesture is certainly appreciated, but it isn’t needed.”

“Huh?” You say, unable to stop the exclamation from leaving you, “Wait, but… without it…”

“You are not one of us, so to you the bloodlust may seem odd, or wrong.” He gingerly hands the powder back to you, “However, the more one tries to suppress it, the greater the pain becomes. This medicine would be a minor reprieve… nothing more.” Before you can say anything else, he nods to you, “Excuse me. I must leave for patrol. Good night.”

You wonder what he’s to do about his bloodlust without the medicine as you watch him walk briskly into the night. To not only acknowledge but accept this insatiable craving as a part of one’s life seems… beyond you. It’s now that you remember Seulgi’s warning of the Hwarang’s Furies murdering people on the streets to test their strength… Had they been feeding off of innocent lives?

“I’ll take that,” Jaemin says, looking down at the medicine.

“Oh!” You nod, handing it to him, “Of course.” He stuffs it into his pocket before staring at where Taeyong had just disappeared. “I’m going on patrol with him. If he… does anything weird, I’ll stop him. So don’t worry, alright?”

“Alright,” you nod quickly, “I’m counting on you, Jaemin… Is the Commander inside?”

“Yeah,” the Hwarang nods, “he came back earlier this evening, but he locked himself in his room. Not a peep from him since.”

“Oh…” You hum, “I’m going to check on him then.”

Jaemin and you say your quick goodbyes, and you make your way inside of the inn towards Kun’s room. You hope the wave of anxiety you feel is a needless one, but you have a very bad feeling as you call out to him from behind the door of his room.

A knock, “Are you in there? I have something for you…”

Nothing. “You’re about to turn away, assuming that he’s asleep when—

Kun cries out in pain, sounding as if he’s struggling for air.

“Commander—I’m coming in!” You blurt out, opening the door and running inside quickly.

Kun lays bent over his desk at the back of the room, sweat pouring down his face as his teeth squeak horribly as he grits them. His hair lay a stark white, his eyes, when he opens them to look at you, are a harsh crimson.

“Are you okay?!” You say as you rush to his side.

“You idiot.” He groans, “Just shut up.”

“But—”

“This’ll pass… any time now… Don’t get all worked up over nothing! Leave it.” He wraps his arms around his shoulders and squeezes until his knuckles turn white as he glances up at you. His breath comes out in pants as he shivers violently.

It’s Kun’s personality to refuse any show of pain, or any emotion at all—or at least to show as little as possible. For him to be like this…The pain must be unimaginable. Is this the bloodlust that Jaemin spoke of?

You pause, knowing that he needs blood but that’s… A frown as you think of the medicine, but again, Taeyong had said it was a temporary solution. Should you give him your blood, then?

There isn’t any time to think of this any longer. It’s not the best plan, perhaps, but you cannot bear to see him in pain any longer. Besides, this is one way that you can help.

Kun shakes fiercely as you gaze upon him in horror. Saying nothing, you draw the blade at your waist.

“What the hell are you—?!” Kun’s eyes go wide as you slide your finger along the edge of the blade, a bead of thick blood forming over the cut.

“Please drink my blood,” you offer your hand to him, “It’ll make you feel better, right?”

“I can’t do that!” He refutes, his clothes drenched in sweat as he shakes like a leaf in the wind. If he had the strength you’re sure he’d try to knock your hand away.

“Don’t worry about me,” you insist, unable to watch him suffer any longer, “Please…”

Though he’s trying to resist, his eyes are locked on your finger, to the blood dripping to the floor. He balls his fist tightly, but he cannot resist.

“You’re an idiot,” he murmurs, reaching out for your hand, “A girl shouldn’t hurt herself for a man’s sake…” Then, he brings your fingers to his lips, you wince slightly as you feel the soft caress of his tongue on your cut. Then, the gentle pressure of his teeth and lips as he sucks, drawing a few more drops out and into his mouth.

“I’ll be fine,” you promise, “I’m a Demon. I heal quickly.”

“Doesn’t matter,” he frowns, “Demon or not, you’re still a girl.” By now, his breathing has already begun to calm itself; through his hand on your wrist, you can feel him stop shaking as well. A few moments later, his grasp on your wrist loosens and he slips his hand away.

The cut on your finger has already healed. The split in the flesh heals before your very eyes as you stand there quietly, Kun wincing.

“I’m sorry for being so forward…” You apologize, returning your hand to your side.

Kun takes a quiet breath and shakes his head, a sense of calm seems to emerge from him, “This isn’t the time to be pretending that I’m fine. I know that. If I want to make sure that Taeil succeeds, then I don’t have a choice. I have to become a monster.”

Absently, you move your fingers to the wrist he’d taken when he drank your blood. A peculiar feeling lingers on the surface of your skin, almost as if you can still feel his warmth there.

September 10th, 665 – Ungjin, Kingdom of Silla Even after the events of that fateful night, Kun had pushed himself just as hard as he had before; he still continues to visit the council members whenever he can find the time. Eventually, that work does pay off, and he’s found himself in several meetings with the King’s closest men.

Between his demanding schedule and Fury-related difficulties, you know he must be miserable, but you know that he’s determined to give Taeil his fight. This alone seems to drive him forward.

It’s a cool evening when the doors of the compound open and Moon Taeil walks confidently into the Hwarang’s main hall.

“I apologize for worrying you all,” he smiles, scratching the back of his head.

“Welcome back!” Both Sungchan and Jeno say excitedly, “We’re happy you’re back with us.”

“You flatter me,” Taeil laughs, “But in all seriousness… Thank you. I am truly grateful that I am able to join you all again.” His eyes scan the room of men, nodding as he does, “I’m sure you’re all wondering what’s next. First, we’ll head to Hanseong. We’ve been ordered to take the city.”

Prior to this, you’d heard that Taeil has almost been promoted to a position outside of the Hwarang, while Kun has basically taken over Taeil's old role as Chief.

It’s a momentous honor to have been bestowed, although you can see that some of the men are hesitant to find cause for celebration.

“Hey, Moon,” Yukhei says from his seated position, “Who came up with the idea of us sieging Hanseong?”

“Kim Yong, why?” Taeil looks at him quizzically, “Is that a problem?”

“This guy is rumored to be a pacifist,” Yukhei pushes, “Why does he want us to go to war?”

“Besides,” Jaehyun adds, “I’ve heard that the King is perfectly willing to just go along with whatever the Tang forces want. You don’t think Kim feels the same way?”

Taeil crosses his arms before he speaks, “Wong, Jeong, these are direct orders from the King’s council. It’s true that the King is following the influence of the Tang, but to be fair, he owes them a great amount of debt. However, if we can take Hanseong, then perhaps he’ll see that he won’t need to rely on their aid as much as we drive out Goguryeo. This isn’t just a matter of winning and losing; the men in charge are saying that we are a force skilled and dedicated enough to capture Hanseong.” His voice sharp, domineering, “Isn’t our duty as warriors, then, to give all we can to this fight? Don’t you agree, Yukhei?”

“You’re going to gloss over it like that?” Yukhei scoffs, “I’m a captain of the Hwarang, but I’m not your retainer.”

Looking upset, Taeil moves to speak before Jaehyun interjects, “Yuta… what’s your take on all of this?”

“I will do whatever is commanded of me.” He says simply.

All eyes turn to Kun, who’s been observing the amicable commotion before him quietly, “We should round up more men if we’re to go to war. If we do well in Hanseong, I’m sure the Crown will send us even more men. As far as Kim goes… Doesn’t matter how much he hates war, I’m sure he knows that you cannot avoid it.” His head shakes as he sighs out, “I mean, if he refuses Tang influence at this point, what’s the point of staking out Goguryeo? What’s the point in seeking out revenge?”

“I guess you have a point,” when Kun had put it that way, it seems like Yukhei has nothing more to oppose.

“Shall we head out for the mountains near Hanseong and prepare for night raids?” Taeyong asks.

“The Fury Corps aren’t going this time,” Kun states, “You’re staying here.”

“Why?” Taeyong frowns.

“If the King does send us reinforcements, I can’t afford to let them see you.” Kun adamantly shakes his head, “There’s going to be significantly more men in Hanseong, you’ll get spotted. Then what’ll be the point of having a secret division?”

“But—!” Taeyong begins to retort until Jaemin stops him.

“The war’s only just begun… We shouldn’t be in a rush.”

You see Kun and Jaemin exchange a quick look. They must have realized how Taeyong would react and spoke of this beforehand. To you, at least, there seems to be a silent agreement.

“Alright then, everyone return to your rooms. We have some time before we leave so make sure you get your affairs in order,” Taeil stands as he addresses the room.

And that’s that. The captains soon leave for their stations, seeking to brief their men and prepare for battle. Only Kun remains behind, mumbling something to himself as he sifts through the massive stacks of paper and maps before him.

“Are you sure it’ll be okay?” You ask timidly as you approach him.

“Hm?” He glances up to you, “What will be okay?”

“This war… It’s not going to just be one battle, is it?” You frown, “Wouldn’t it have been better to take the Fury Corps along?”

“Oh.” He sighs, “That.” The map in hand set down, he glances at it before looking back to you, “Remember what that Sooyoung girl, or whatever her name was, warned us about the Furies killing people?”

“Yes…”

“Well. I think it might’ve been Taeyong.” He says shortly as your mouth flies open.

“What?!”

“The Fury Corps is our ace in the hole,” he continues, ignoring your short outburst, “but I can’t have them murdering people in the streets to satisfy their bloodlust. During the fight in Seorabeol they used silver arrowheads on the Furies, which made them essentially useless. Until we can figure out how to counteract the silver problem, I need to have Taeyong stay here. Jaemin will… keep an eye on him. We also may need them to collect arms for a counterattack.”

A counterattack… Does that mean Kun is planning for a possible loss in Hanseong?

“This next fight is going to be a big one. We probably shouldn’t take you, but… If I leave you here, Donghyuck might decide to try and steal you away again. So, I’m taking you with us, but you need to watch yourself and stay out of trouble.”

With the nervous knot slowly forming in your stomach, you nod, “Okay…”

October 31st, 665 – Ungjin, Kingdom of Silla Today, the Hwarang leave for Hanseong. And as you enter the common room, you take note of the different outfits the men have donned.

“You’re up early,” Yukhei muses, beckoning you over.

“Your clothes…” Your brow furrows at him, “Are you really Yukhei?! What are you wearing?”

“The Commander ordered us to dress in Tang clothing when going into battle from now on,” Yuta explains as you look over his new uniform as well.

You look at the Commander, dressed predominately in black, his new outfit giving him an elegant look. It suits him well, he looks almost as handsome as an actor. You can’t help but stand there and admire him for a moment.

“Something wrong?” Kun asks as he notes your prolonged gaze, “…Do you think I’m wearing it wrong?”

“Hm? Oh. No. No, definitely not.”

He laughs, “You’re strange.”

“Hm,” you shake your head and your eyes fall on Taeil, “Why aren’t you wearing Tang clothes?”

“They’re just so… heavy.” Taeil explains, “I can’t stand how the shoes are made either. I wouldn’t feel like a real warrior dressed like that. I suppose I’m being childish, but that’s my right.”

“You’re fine,” Kun smiles, “It’s not like you’ll be out on the front lines. You just have to act dignified in front of the men. Your presence alone is enough to inspire everyone.”

“You’re going to make me blush,” Taeil sounds flustered before speaking to the men, “Well, let’s go then! To Hanseong!”

November 11th, 665 – The Road North, Kingdom of Silla/Goguryeo And so, the Hwarang are headed north. During the journey, Taeil splits from the main group to visit his hometown somewhere east of the border. And after several days of his absence, the men begin to worry.

“Where is he?” Yukhei notes as the men stop along a rocky path, his eyes looking up the walkway and behind to where they’d come.

“It seems as if the Chief hasn’t caught up with us yet…” Jeno trails off, a frown of worry present on his lips.

“Still? How long is he going to sit around that inn getting drunk?” Yukhei says impatiently.

“Well, he probably hasn’t been home in a while,” Jaehyun snorts, “Probably wants to show off how successful he’s been. Not to mention he probably wants to visit his wife and daughter. He hasn’t seen them in a long time.”

“Show off, huh?” Yukhei shakes his head, “We’re marching to war. You really think this is the time for that shit?”

“He’s gone to see if the rumors of people wanting to join us were true, if they are, he needs to assess their abilities,” Kun interjects. “What better way to get to know new soldiers than by sharing a drink with them?”

“You have a point… but…”

Kun’s eyes narrow and Yukhei looks unsatisfied as the commander mutters to himself, “If we had gotten enough men before we left, then Taeil wouldn’t be out there right now.” His words cut the air like a knife.

The Hwarang had made a name for themselves in Seorabeol, but their notoriety can only carry them so far. You no longer have the luxury of interviewing potential recruits and taking the best ones; now, you need to offer incentives of alcohol and money to attract them. You know Kun would have rather cut off his own arm than stoop this low, but he has no choice.

From down the path, you can see Yuta rearing towards the group atop his horse, stopping shortly before you and leaping off, “Commander, I have something to report—The enemy has called reinforcements to Hanseong.”

“What? How did they know we were coming…” Kun frowns, “We’ve got to relay this to Taeil as soon as possible.”

November 14th, 665 – Outside of Hanseong, Kingdom of Goguryeo It’s some time before the Chief receives the message and returns to the main group of Hwarang. Long enough for the news of the enemy threat to spread and causation for some to panic. Nearly fifteen hundred of the men you’d left Ungjin with desert, reducing your forces to a mere two thousand. Jaehyun and Yukhei seem only more cautious at this, both advising retreat. But Taeil decides that the Hwarang will form up for battle and fight until the bitter end.

Now that the Crown had given him direct orders, he said that there cannot be any hesitance.

“I’ll call in reinforcements from Ungjin,” Kun frowns, “One thing for sure is… We cannot afford to lose this. Make that damn clear to the reinforcements, we can’t afford to have any more deserters.”

“Of course,” Yuta nods, turning and jogging off to join the rest of the men.

After giving his directions to the last of his men, Kun looks to you.

“Go back to Ungjin with someone. This place will turn into a battlefield soon enough, and you should be somewhere safe.” The tone in his voice shows no room for you to question his call.

“I’ll stay here…” You eventually conclude, “I can’t run away to somewhere safe while everyone else is off fighting. I’ll stay here to watch over the Chief until you get back.”

Kun grimaces, “How? You can’t swing a sword to save your life, and I don’t think you’ve got the guts to kill a man. You’re not a soldier.” You’d expected him to say as much, but you’re not going to back down easily.

“It’s true that I’m not very good with a sword, but… I can still be his shield. Any small wounds I sustain will heal quickly enough.”

“Why are you doing this? No one’s asked you to,” Kun stares at you, seeing that your resolve isn’t shaken.

“I know I may be out of line when I say this, but I know that we can’t lose him. Not now.” You insist, “I’m sick and tired of always being protected, I want to help!” You’ve been with them long enough now to see how much Taeil means to Kun and the rest of the Hwarang. If you go back to Ungjin and Taeil dies… Just thinking of it makes a cold chill crawl up your spine.

Kun chews his lip thoughtfully for a moment, and his hard, piercing gaze never seems to drift away from your face. Refusing to break his concentration for a long moment, he sighs.

“If you’re really that serious about this, then I’ve got an order for you,” he crosses his arms, “As a member of the Hwarang.”

“What…?” Your eyebrows shoot up.

“You’re going to guard Taeil personally. Stay by his side and give him anything he asks for.” After awaiting your baffled response he continues, “…And?”

“Yes! Sir!” Without thinking, you straighten up and nod vigorously.

“I will protect him even if it means my li—” Before you can finish, Kum cuts you off with a sharp expression.

“There’s one condition. You can’t die.” That isn’t the sort of thing you’d expect him to say. ‘Be careful’, maybe, but not ‘You can’t die’. “And don’t do anything stupid, like being his shield, or whatever bullshit you were saying. I am not ordering you to die.” He gives you one last pointed look before turning to gaze bitterly at the walls of Hanseong in the distance.

“If our enemy this time turns out to be a bunch of amateurs who’re just hoping to kiss some ass with their king, we might have a chance,” he muses. “If it’s not… That’ll be a different story. I’ll try and get back as fast as I can, but if something happens before I do, I’m counting on you and Yuta to make sure Taeil gets away clean.” Kun then looks back to you, “And none of this shield shit. You escape with him. Die, and I’ll make sure you regret it. Understood?”

You feel a cold sweat on your back as his words sink their way into your skin. You’d seen others fight for their lives in battle many times, but this is the first that you’d actually be joining. Will you really be able to protect Taeil? Will it even be possible to evade your enemies, let Taeil escape and survive?

Perhaps Kun notices your sudden fear as he lets out a short, bitter laugh, “Hey. Take out your sword.”

“Huh?” You ask, stunned for a moment by the strangeness of his request before complying and unsheathing your blade from its scabbard.

Kun then moves to swiftly remove his from his hip, taking his steel and tapping it against your own. The clear tone they make draws goosebumps from your arms.

“The third rule of O Gye is to trust your friends and treat them sincerely…”

“O- Oh…” You furrow your brow. The O Gye is the set of principles that the Hwarang have followed since their inception, why is he…

“You’re a Hwarang now… Well,” he chuckles, “I suppose you’d be a Wonhwa, wouldn’t you? Regardless, this is proof.”

“Proof of what?” You ask as he smiles gently at you.

“That I’ll come back, that you can trust that I will return and that I can trust that you’ll survive too.” He lowers his blade, slipping it back into its sheath, “So you believe me, and you wait. And don’t die.” His words are confident, and listening to him, you feel as if they somehow have bolstered your spirit tenfold.

As someone who prides himself on being a Hwarang, you know these words, the O Gye, mean a great deal to him. You have to follow through, you can’t break this newly formed promise with him.

“I understand,” you nod, “I will protect the Chief and I will survive.”

November 27th, 665 – Outside of Hanseong, Kingdom of Goguryeo Slowly, the Hwarang find themselves driven into a stalemate. Taeil had done his best to try and tell the men they were to slowly siege the city, to draw them out and have them surrender on their own terms to protect the area around Hanseong from becoming bloodied with battle. Unfortunately, one of the new recruits had cried out that he was a Hwarang and slain a Goguryeo soldier.

That was the spark that set the pile ablaze. The bulk of the opponent’s forces turned out to be men who’d come from the hardened battle lines of Goguyeo’s northern fronts, meaning they’d been in near constant battle with the Tang for years. It quickly becomes stalemated as the days progress. Taeil has no choice now but to retreat until forces from Ungjin arrive.

“We have to go!” You cry out as Taeil emerges from his tent, “If we don’t, you’ll be killed if Goguryeo breaks through our lines!”

“My men are still fighting out there!” He states firmly, “I cannot run away and leave them, I will not leave them behind!”

“Even if we lose this battle now, we have reinforcements coming later, and as long as you’re safe, there’s still hope for the Hwarang—” You insist as you walk with him, “We can regroup and fight back later!” You reach for his hand, pulling him as hard as you can toward the path away from the city.

Taeil looks across the battlefield at his men, hopelessly entrenched in lines that will never break or push through. The smell of death from both allied and enemy corpses stings your noses. Looking at him, you can see tears well up in the corners of his eyes. He lowers his gaze, murmuring something as Yuta returns from the front lines.

Yuta’s steely expression is colored by streaks of mud and grit from the battlefield, “Are you prepared to leave?” He notes the bags around your and Taeil’s backs, “Good. Let’s go.”

“Let’s go quickly…” You say, urging Taeil forward.

“Right…” He sighs out and begins to walk once more.

Running into the nearby forest, you escape into it under the cover of the quickly encroaching night.

“We’ll be in Silla territory soo,” you say as you look at Taeil, “Hang in there.”

“Right…” He sighs once more.

Perhaps it’s because you’ve never seen him lose before, but this is the first time you’ve seen Taeil so… drained.

“I’m sorry for being so, um, forward…” He eventually says, “I let so many of my men die…”

“You can’t beat yourself up over that now.” You say, trying to rid him of the thought, “Like the Commander said, we just don’t have what it takes to beat them right now.” Your words don’t seem to reach him as he continues to stare numbly beyond you.

“Perhaps if someone else were Chief… they might still be alive…”

“Taeil…” You let his name slip from your lips, forgetting the last time you’d referred to him by his name, not his family’s.

“Who’s there?” Before you’re able to console him any more, you hear a voice coming from the brush that sounds unfamiliar to you. Peeking out, you catch the sight of a Goguryeo soldier and freeze immediately. “I know you heard me.”

Yuta, who’d been staring intently out to where the soldier stands, murmurs, “I’ll buy you some time. Take the Chief and escape.”

Nodding quickly, you and Taeil tiptoe away through the brush, trying your best not to make any noise. Just as soon as you’re able to get Taeil moving at a decent pace, a shadow leaps out before you, barring your way forward.

“I had a feeling you might be here…” The figure of Xiao Dejun murmurs before you. Instinctively, you step backwards, unease writhing in your stomach as you wonder if Lee Donghyuck is nearby.

“Wasn’t he with the Goguryeo army in Seorabeol?” Taeil asks as you slowly nod your head. “Then we can no longer escape… I need to take responsibility for the men I’ve lost. Will you go on without me?”

“What…?” You look at him puzzled, “I can’t do that!”

Dejun had remained silent for the short exchange, but now he speaks up, “Yes, I do work with their forces. But I have been given no orders regarding the Hwarang.” His eyes shift to you, “My only business here is with her.”

“Me?” Your brow furrows as he crosses his arms.

“Donghyuck is… vexed by you, and that commander of yours. He disregards the kingdom’s wishes and does as he pleases, not as he is ordered. Yeon Gaesomun is troubled, to say the least. And for now, we don’t wish to cut our ties with Goguryeo quite yet.” The light in his eyes promises violence, and his body tightens as his hand rests on the hilt of his sword, ready to make good on whatever promise he’d made. With a swift flourish, he relinquishes his blade from its sheath and narrows his eyes at you, “And for that, you must die here.”

With shaky hands, you reach for your blade, already knowing you’re no match for the Demon.

“He’s after me,” you look frantically to Taeil, “Only me. You need to escape!”

“But—!” Taeil says, panic riddling his expression.

“I’ll be fine,” you try to reassure him with a small smile. “The Hwarang need you now more than ever, you can’t abandon them.”

His mouth hangs slack for a moment, speechless. Then he shuts his jaw and draws his sword,“No matter the reason, an honorable warrior cannot run away and leave a woman to fight alone.” Despite your protest, he gets into a fighting stance, slowly closing the distance between Dejun and himself. His face calm and serene, you don’t see any hesitation in his eyes, “My recklessness has seen many of my men to their death, I don’t want it to lead another away.”

You’d seen this same expression on Jisung’s face just before he’d died on Donghyuck’s blade. Taeil’s mind has already been made.

“I am Moon Taeil, Chief of the Hwarang!” With his sword held high, he charges Dejun.

The intense force of their clash sends a shockwave rippling through the air. The clangor of metal rings out and the two part.

“You challenge me knowing that you cannot win, for the sake of someone who cannot defend themselves…” Dejun almost lets a smile creep onto the corner of his lips, “Your actions are worthy of respect.”

Taeil swings at his last word, Dejun sliding away as if he’s made of water. His hand outstretches and grabs the metal of Taeil’s blade, pushing the hilt of it into the Chief’s stomach.

As Taeil groans out, falling towards the ground, Dejun flips him around so that he slams directly onto his back.

“I’ve knocked most of the air out of him. He won’t be able to move for quite some time,” Dejun glances at Taeil writhing on the ground and then looks at you. “You’re next. Do not blame me for what I have to do.”

Raising his blade, he charges at you, kicking you in the stomach as you have no time to dodge his attack. Feeling like your whole body is about to shatter, you endure the pain just a bit more and struggle to your feet.

“You just saw the difference in our power… Are you sure you still want to put up a fight?” He asks, looking at the blade locked tightly in your grip. Noticing that you’re not budging, he nods, “Very well. I’ll humor you, then.”

Giving a huff, you readjust your grip on your sword and rush at Dejun. However, he evades your attack with no effort. You murmur to yourself how you need to change your movements, and begin to swing rapidly at him. Yet, once again, his elegant technique moves him out of the path of your blade. No matter how many times you charge and slash at him, there’s no way you’ll even scathe him. It’s not until his leg moves and kicks your arm with the force of a falling boulder that you move again.

The pain is so immediately overwhelming, you drop your blade to the forest floor, crying out in pain as you fall to the ground. Your knees skim across the dirt, digging into the earth and scraping your skin. Your brain screams at you to move, to fight, but the roar of your surely broken arm drowns it out almost entirely.

“This fight is done,” Dejun says quietly, “Don’t worry, I’ll make it quick.”

Your eyes close as you hear him approach, and a myriad of thoughts runs through you. An apology to Kun, first and foremost, he’d told you to survive and now you’re doing everything but. A tear carves its way down the side of your cheek as you wait for the blow to hit you.

“Giving up so soon?” A voice says calmly, “The Hwarang don’t stop fighting until they’re dead. The only thing on your mind right now should be how you’re going to out-think this idiot.”

That voice…

Your head raises and eyes shoot open just in time to see Kun leap through the air and land a strike with his sword on Dejun’s arm.

“You!” Dejun says as he recoils.

“I thought I’d only be fighting soldiers out here… Guess I’ll be taking care of a Demon, too,” Kun huffs, his white hair glimmering in the moonlight.

“Have you learned nothing since your fight with Donghyuck?” Dejun huffs, “A Fury is a mere echo of a true Demon. No matter how powerful you may think yourself, you cannot defeat us.”

Kun lets out a short laugh, “Never know until you try…”

“Only bloodshed will satisfy you… Very well.” Dejun raises his sword, “I’ll be your opponent.” Giving him a short nod, Dejun once again falls easily into a ready stance.

Kun’s blade flickers through the air, a little more than a glint of silver in the moonlight. Dejun blocks it with his own sword, dodging away from the attack. With his brow furrowed, Kun braces himself for the pushback that Dejun does, using the momentum against the commander to shove him back.

Kun’s face twists as his feet slide back into the dirt. Be it his Fury-born strength or his adrenaline- he surges forward after a split second, charging toward Dejun. His blade leaps forward, burying itself into the Demon’s chest. Blood flies from the gash, splashing across Kun’s face.

A startled noise falls from his mouth and he jerks back, pulling his sword from the wound. No sooner had it been out does the wound begin to close.

“Right…” Kun shakes his head, “You heal quickly, don’t you? It’s straight through the heart or not at all, huh?” His sword shines with the sheen of fresh blood, “I’ve got you figured out, though. I know how you move. You’re tough, but you’re not impossible.”

Drenched in blood, Kun looks more monster than human, his eyes wide and hungry. There’s something terrifying and inhuman about his expression as he whips his sword through the air.

Dejun leaps back, Kun’s sword almost catching his hand as he does so. Jabs and parries, feints and counter-feints… The battle flows between them like a living thing; it changes, moving too fast for any mortal eye to track. Neither of the two men show any sign of tiring as they dodge and attack in ways that would be unthinkable for any human.

Even in the maelstrom of death and violence, you can see Kun smiling.

The smell of blood hangs heavy in the air, and his grin speaks of a Fury’s lust for death.

“I never imagined a Fury could match me in battle…” Dejun murmurs as the two part, “You are unexpected. This power, though, what will you do with it?”

“What?” Kun says, confused. “Protect those I care for. What other reason could there be for wanting power?”

“Those you care for… Would you count Silla among that number?”

“No… This is bigger than the Kingdom. They can’t compare.”

Dejun closes his eyes and stays silent for a moment. What’s gotten into him? Why had he stopped fighting?

This would be a perfect time to strike, right?

Just as you think to pick up your blade and move toward him, you feel a hand on your shoulder, “Stay back.” Yuta, who you hadn’t heard return, stops you despite your protest. “That Demon no longer thirsts for blood. This battle is over.”

“Demons are not meant to involve themselves in the world of humans,” Dejun states as he opens his eyes to stare at Kun, who’d lowered his sword. “Now that you’ve become a Fury, you belong in the shadows as well.”

“Yeah.” Kun says shortly, “I’m not interested in my name being written in the annals.”

“If you understand that, I shall leave the rest to you.” Dejun shakes his head, “Donghyuck is proud, even for a Demon. If you have indeed humiliated him, I doubt he will ever forgive you. It is unlikely that you will defeat him… However, if there is something you wish to protect, then please… use the powers you’ve been granted to do so.”

In his own stoic way, Kun looks as confused as you feel. Can Dejun be trusted?

“There is one more thing I must tell you…” Dejun warns, “The power of the Furies is not magic, or a gift from the gods. Great strength, lightning speed, and mortal wounds that close themselves… This power was already within you, but had you stayed human you would have spent it in decades, not minutes. You are only borrowing these things.”

Your fingernails dig into your palms at the realization. By ‘borrowing’, does he mean that when Kun taps into the speed and strength of a Fury, he’s picking away at his future—his life?

“So you’re saying that every time I use that stuff, my life gets a little shorter?” Kun asks and Dejun nods. The commander lets out a short laugh, “Makes sense. Seemed too good to be true. Guess it’s only natural that I’d have to trade something for this kind of power.”

“Then I will be on my way…”

“Hold on. I want to ask you something.” Kun stops him before he can run off, “You sure you want to let us get away? If you don’t kill me now, I’m pretty sure I’ll end up killing your friend.”

“If you defeat him, then that was all he amounted to.” Dejun states plainly, “We Demons are not sentimental.” Then, with a last polite nod, he disappears into the night,

With his enemy gone, Kun slumps and takes a long, deep breath.

“Are you alright?” Your voice comes out quietly as you look at him.

“Fine. Where’s Taeil?”

“Over there,” Yuta gestures as Kun runs off toward the Chief.

“Are you okay?” Kun asks as Taeil looks at him wide-eyed, “Are you hurt?”

“Kun… you…” With Kun standing before him, his white hair and red eyes bright in the moonlight, he looks as if he’s seen a ghost. A Fury.

“Oh…” Kun begins but looks away, almost guiltily.

Staring at him a moment before speaking again, Taeil notes in a soft, stunned voice, “Are you… a Fury?”

“Uh, yeah.” Kun admits, “I didn’t have a choice, alright? It was for the Hwarang,”

For a moment, he sounds composed, but as you look closer you can see that he’s desperately avoiding Taeil’s gaze. Not being able to bear looking him in the eye.

Everyone is silent for a moment before the first raindrop hits you, taking you by surprise.

“…It’s starting to rain…” Kun sighs, “We need to get back to Ungjin and reorganize. We need to discuss our next move.”

“Right,” you nod, reaching out to tug at Taeil’s sleeve, “Come on, we need to hurry.” Taeil simply stands there, almost as if he’s forgotten how to walk. “Is something wrong?” It begins to rain harder yet he doesn’t budge.

Rain runs down his cheeks to his chin, or are they tears?

“What…” He murmurs, “What have I been doing…? Today I sent men—men who trusted me—into battle. They died. And I’ve made you,” his gaze flickers to Kun, “a man I’ve known for years, into a Fury. A monster…”

“Taeil…” Kun’s brow furrows at him, “What is this? No one blames you. We were able to take the city because Wen Junhui’s forces showed up— No matter how good of a tactician you are, we couldn’t have taken Hanseong alone.” He shakes his head, “I made bad calls too, and it got Jisung and Minhyung killed. We cannot change the past. What we can do is turn this around and keep fighting with our all. Besides, I don’t regret becoming a Fury.”

He laughs shortly, “Hell, I’m stronger and faster than I ever was, and I can use that to help you out. Nothing could make me happier.”

Rain pours onto their faces. Surely it’s in your imagination, but for a moment, it almost looks as if Kun is crying. Taeil stares at him for a long moment, then finally draws himself together.

“I’m sorry,” Taeil shakes his head with a small smile, “I was being foolish. Forget what I said.” Something in his voice tells you that even he doesn’t quite believe that.

December 2nd, 665 – Ungjin, Kingdom of Silla The Hwarang had returned to Ungjin. Rejoining with your friends and the rest of the men who had stayed behind feels bittersweet. Your mind often turns to Taeil, who expectedly remains disconsolate after his first defeat on the battlefield.

Even after the attempts to rouse him, he spends most of his time in his quarters, moping. The man who had come in only hours after the Hwarang had given up their position in Hanseong, Wen Junhui, would be arriving in Ungjin any day now. His victory over the Goguryeo forces had been a swift undertaking, something of a thorn in the Chief’s side.

You think of this future meeting as someone brushes past you just as you’re about to begin lighting the lanterns outside of the headquarters.

“Oh– Yuta? Are you off to work?”

The man gives you a curt nod, “When you have a moment, could you make some tea and bring it to Kun?” Without waiting for a response, he gives you a small smile and scurries off.

Yuta had never been a talkative man in your presence, or anyone’s, really. Yet he’d lately taken on a taciturn demeanor. Is he still upset by the events from Hanseong…? Or maybe…

The day after the large posse had returned to Ungjin, you awoke the next morning to Yukhei and JAehyun loitering around the main hall, their gear and belongings tucked away into haphazardly made bags.

‘We’ve made up our minds’ you recall Yukhei saying, a dimness in his voice that you would have never attributed to him prior to that meeting. ‘Our path isn’t Taeil’s. I don’t think we can follow him anymore.’

It was a blurry goodbye after that, and you suspect that you’re not fully over their departure, either. Of course, you’ve only known them for a few years, not the lifetime it seems that they’ve had with the other men.

Along with their departure, Yongqin had been moved to Sabi, a southern town known for its medicinal practices. Finding his room empty left you feeling bereft as well.

One by one, the group that you’d come to find as a second family is slowly falling apart.

As you light the last lantern you sigh to yourself and decide to go make tea, as requested by Yuta.

The tray remains sturdy in your grasp, even if you can hear the ceramic clinking against itself as you approach the Commander’s door, “Good evening, I’ve brought you tea…” As you speak, you open the door, stopping almost immediately as the gazes of Kun, Jaemin and Taeyong fall onto you.

Their conversation must’ve been important judging by the hardset lines carved into their expressions.

“I’m sorry!” You say quickly, “I hadn’t realized that you were in the middle of a meeting.” Feet trailing backwards, you’re almost out of the room when Kun speaks up.

“You can stay.”

His words halt your movement and Taeyong piques your interest as he looks back to Kun, glaring, “You cannot possibly be serious about this! Why would you halt the augmentation of the Fury Corps?!”

“I am serious,” Kun’s attention turns from you and once back to his comrade. “I will not have any more men being turned into Furies. Make do with what you have.”

“I apologize but I cannot support your decision. The Hwarang’s power is at an all time low, even if Silla is standing against Goguryeo and winning– I think that expanding the Fury Corps to keep this fight pushing forward is our only option.” Taeyong’s voice is a strained composure as he grits his teeth and continues, “Jaemin told me that Yukhei and Jaehyun have left. That is a serious blow to us, Kun.”

“You saw what happened in Hanseong– Even if we recruit more, they’ll run off on us. Wasting our effort on pitiful men like that is foolish. Would it not be better to focus on those who have abided by our code? Who understands what it means to be a Hwarang?”

Jaemin looks to the floor, his shoe gently tapping the boards underneath. He’s been silent since you arrived, but you can clearly see that he isn’t agreeing with Taeyong fully.

“You make several good points, Taeyong.” Kun frowns, his arms crossing, “If we want increased strength, the best way to attain that is through the Fury Corps.”

“Then why–!” Taeyong begins.

“There’s a problem with the Furies. A big one. We only just found out about it and our source is,” Kun glances at you briefly, “reliable.” With your eyes widening at what’s to come, you can only look at Jaemin's and Taeyong’s faces as he divulges what Dejun had told you.

“The power of a Fury comes from your… potential. The more you use it, the shorter your life becomes.”

Taeyong’s gaze, usually cool and calculating, goes awry as he processes. From his standing position he falls to his knees, hitting the wood with a thud. A surge of realization of his powerlessness registers within him.

“Yeah,” Kun’s voice falls into a somber lull, “We shouldn’t be using the Furies unless we really have to.”

After several long moments of silence, Taeyong raises his head to speak, “Then that is yet another reason why the research must continue.” He pushes himself from the floor, brushing off his knees and looking at Kun, “It is a flaw, yes, and a serious one. But with more research… We may find a way to circumvent, or even counteract, it entirely. As a Fury, you should understand.”

“This is not a request, Taeyong. This is an order.” Kun’s arms uncross and seems ready to impose his status over the other, “As your Commander, I am telling you that research on Furies will stop. There will be no more.”

Taeyong says nothing, he just glares at Kun until seconds once again turn into minutes.

“Let’s go, Taeyong…” Jaemin tries to urge him. When Taeyong turns to him, you can see lines in his face, perhaps proof that his life is already steadily leaving him.

You step aside to let them leave, and as they open the door, the figure of Taeil is seen passing by in the hall.

“Oh, Chief,” Jaemin stops, “Were you coming in?”

“No…Uh… No, I’m just out for a walk,” Taeil chuckles, “Just passing by. Don’t mind me.” A few more pleasantries were exchanged and then the sound of three sets of footsteps trail away down the hall.

You’re reminded of Kun’s presence when he sighs behind you, you spin on your heels and note that he’s looking forlornly out of the small window in his room.

“I’m sure the tea’s cold by now,” you look at the tray in your hands, “Let me get you a fresh pot.”

“No,” he stops you, gaze broken from the window and now linked to you, “I’m thirsty, cold tea’s perfect.” His hand gingerly reaches out to the tray as you approach and swiftly grabs one of the cups atop it. Kun brings his lips to the porcelain and he sighs, a distant look twinkles in his eyes.

“He’s right, you know.” Kun says as he sets his empty cup down. “Taeyong’s right. Jaehyun and Yukhei leaving… It hurt us bad.” His voice shakes almost imperceptibly, his lips curling into a bitter smile, “I had a feeling this might happen someday. It’s our fault for falling short of what they wanted. But damn, we sure have lost a lot of people. Things are undeniably different now.”

You can’t even begin to imagine what’s going through his head. He’s been working from dusk to dawn, has he even had time to grieve anyone properly? Even with the strength that his newfound Fury powers had given him, you can see the horrible toll it’s taken on his body.

“Kun…” you say softly, “you have to stop.”

“What?” His voice is much rougher than you though, giving you momentary pause.

“I’m only telling you to do what you told Taeyong to do a few moments ago. Don’t use your Fury abilities unless it’s an emergency.”

“Why should I listen to you?” His expression questioning.

“Well… You turned into a Fury to save me from Donghyuck, you wouldn’t have had to unl–”

“This again?” He sighs, “Look, I said I chose to do it. I wasn’t forced.”

A pang reverberates around your ribcage, “When you say things like that, it only makes it worse. If you’re in pain, just say so. Don’t you wish you’d never become a Fury?”

For a moment, the room is quiet, and then Kun begins to laugh. “I just can’t win with you, can I? You really are from the countryside.” Another chortle before he continues, “I can’t remember if I’ve told you this before– Anyway, I am the adopted son of a sixth rank noble, I hardly knew my birth parents. I was raised with the noble’s son and daughter, Hoseok and Joohyun. You kind of sound like Joohyun. Yongqin’s sister Cheng sounds the same way too. When you go off, it’s like I’m being scolded by my family. Makes me feel like I have to listen to you.”

You’d never heard him speak of his childhood like this before. It’s surreal in a way.

“If what Dejun told us is true, then as long as I don’t use my Fury powers, I’ll be alright, right?” His lightheartedness flees slightly as he huffs out a puff of air, “If it gets bad I’ll let you know. Stop worrying about me.”

He’ll likely keep most of his pain to himself– that’s just who he is, but if he really means what he’d said…

“I understand,” you say with a nod, another thought beginning to bubble to the surface. “So… What will happen to the Hwarang now?”

“Well, we need to get Taeil to snap out of it, but after that, we’re heading north.”

“North? You mean back to…”

“Yeah, back to Hanseong.” Kun cedes with a sigh, “The Tang forces may have saved our asses up there but it doesn’t mean that they don’t want every man they can take fighting alongside them. Some of Namekawa’s men are stationed there too, hoping to round up some men and head to Bakjak. We’ll try to pincer Pyongyang and take those–” Suddenly, Kun’s body contorts and hunches, his hand grasping at his now heaving chest. His eyes wide in pain, sweat begins to pour from his head and he mutters out through clenched teeth, “Fuck, fuck–!”

“Kun?” Your mouth lays agape as the hair on his head turns an alabaster white. It’s bloodlust, you’re sure of it. “You need blood…” The sentence isn’t a question, and you react almost instinctively, recalling what you’d done for him before.

With unsteady hands you reach for the blade at your hip, laying its cool edge on the palm of your hand before his hand grasps around your wrist. Trying to pull away, you're met with a fervent shaking of his head.

“I’ll do it,” he murmurs, straightening himself to the best of his ability. Kun moves around you, standing behind you as he loosens your collar as the night air hits your neck followed by his fingertips. Seconds later you feel the kiss of a cold blade against your neck before feeling it slide against your skin. You try your best not to wince but the air makes the cut sting.

The cold is eventually replaced by the warmth of his face as his lips fall onto the cut. Heat raids your body, never before had you been this close to a man before. Nerves make your body twist to try and look at him until Kun’s hands grab your shoulders.

“Don’t look,” his voice low, husky. And you nod, not particularly sure that you want to see him in his Fury state. Those few words– a last, strained defense of his wounded pride– tear at your heart, and a knot gets stuck in your throat. For his sake you try and calm your nerves, although you can still feel your heart racing.

“I’m sorry… I can’t afford to lose it right now.” You’re unsure if he’s saying that to calm himself or calm you.

“Of course…” Your voice leaves you quietly, “You don’t need to hold back, I want to help in whatever way I can.”

In the days you watched both Minhyung and Jisung die, you’d find yourself inundated with near tortuous regret. There had been nothing in your power you could do for them. Ever since those fateful days it has been your resolve to help the Hwarang after they’d aided and sheltered you for so long.

Kun’s grip tightens on your shoulder, and a wave of emotions washes over you– guilt, disappointment, anger, regret– and you soon realize that they are not your own. They’re his.

Eventually he lets go and steps away from you.

“I’m sorry for doing that…” His hair back to its darkened state, he can’t seem to meet your gaze.

“It’s nothing,” you insist, adjusting the collar of your outfit that he’d shifted aside, “See? The cut’s already closed up.” Seeing his still-stolid demeanor, you continue, “I’ll be staying here for a while longer so please, if you need anything, just let me know.”

“So I can just drink your blood whenever?”

You nod, “You can.”

Kun cracks an eye open and gives you a small chuckle as he shakes his head, “Shouldn’t say things like that. Someone’s gonna use you up and throw you away.”

You know he’s joking, but there’s a part of you that feels if it were he that used you up then it wouldn’t be that bad.

April 7th, 666 - Hanseong, Kingdom of Silla Sometime after the incident between Kun and you, you begin to move northward, back to Hanseong. Nearly a month after its liberation from the Goguryeo forces, the Hwarang settled on a private estate just outside of the city’s walls. Taeil had been reluctant to return to the battlefields, but after several conversations with Kun, he’d become convinced otherwise.

Until the preparations to siege Pyongyang were in place, you would be set up in Hanseong to train. Yuta had gone to a town some ways south to train in Tang weaponry with one of Wen Junhui’s assistants, Hao Chujun. Taeyong and Jaemin had left with the Fury Corps along the naval route to Bakjak as they were not permitted to travel to Hanseong.

“Do you know where the Chief is?” A voice calls out to you, and you turn to see Jeong Sungchan standing there, his eyes wide.

“I think he’s reading in his room,” you have to think of when you last saw him. Weight shifting from foot to foot you try not to look concerned, “Is something the matter?”

“It’s nothing in particular, but…” There’s a peculiar expression on his face you can’t quite grasp. “I can’t shake this worrying feeling like he’s lost the will for us to fight again since the last time we were here…”

“Hmm…” You purse your lips, “I don’t think that’s the case. I can’t say that he’s completely lost his will to fight.”

Sungchan is hesitant to respond as he stays quiet, eventually speaking again, “You’re probably right, huh? I mean, Commander Qian is still giving his all for him. I’m sure he’ll return to his old self soon enough.” With that, Sungchan quickly scurries off, racing back into the depths of the manor.

As you watch him, you can’t help but let his words sting you a little. Taeil certainly had lost some of that ambitious fire he’d always had in his eyes as of late. If he wasn’t holed up reading in his room, he’d spend time in solitude out in the garden. Yet, you hold on hope that his confidence had deflated only a little after the battle in Hanseong.

Prompted by the meeting with Sungchan, you decide to pay the Chief a visit a few hours later.

“I’ve brought you some tea,” You say quietly as you slide open the door. Taeil sits behind his desk, nose buried in a bound novel, and he greets you with a smile. “What are you reading?”

“Oh, this is Jemangmaega,” he lowers the book, closing it but saving his place with a scrap piece of parchment. A collection of poems but more critical than that if one reads further into the text. I practically know them by heart now, but with each time I reread them I find I learn something new.”

“When I was younger I wanted to be just like Kim Yushin– he fought for others, more so than just himself,” his grin lasts for a moment before fading, “But I suppose dreaming about being a great commander doesn’t just make you one… I wish I realized that a bit sooner.”

“What are you talking about?” You tilt your head, “You’ve only just begun.”

“... How’s Kun?” He asks, not seeming to have heard your prior statement.

“I think he’s in his room writing something.” You state, “Probably writing orders for Yuta, he’s off with Hao Chujun in Kyeju, you know.”

“Ah…” Taeil sighs, “I keep giving Kun so much to do.”

“I don’t think he’s pushing himself too hard,” you say quickly, “And nothing makes him happier than being able to help you. That’s just the kind of guy he is.”

Taeil chuckles at that, “You’ve turned out to be quite a page to him, haven’t you? I think you know him quite well by now.”

“You think so?” You feel your cheeks warm at his certainty. “That’s right… I was supposed to be his page, wasn’t I?”

“To be truthful, I never thought that you’d be with us for this long…” Before you knew it, the two of you had begun to reminisce about your time in Seorabeol. Back then, you never could have guessed where fate would take you. There have been constant challenges, but you thought that’d you’d eventually return to your lives in the capital.

“I know things will work out. The Commander will get us through this.”

Taeil responds with a melancholy laugh, “Don’t you think you’re asking quite a bit of him?”

“... What do you mean?”

Before Taeil has any time to answer, the door opens with a snap, Shotaro and Kun briskly walking inside, their faces tense and drawn.

“We have to go. Now.” Kun says sharply, “The place’s surrounded.”

“There’s two, maybe three hundred of them out there. We came in through the back so they wouldn’t see us,” Shotaro says solemnly.

“If it were only twenty or thirty then we could take them… But we don’t have time to call Yuta and his men. Guess we’ll have to come up with something here. You two take Taeil and go on ahead,” Kun says quickly.

“What?!” You speak up, “Not even you can take on that many people. And it’s still daytime…”

“A majority of the soldiers out there are archers,” Shotaro says as both you and he move toward the door in an effort to block it should Kun try and get out.

Taeil, having been in quiet contemplation since their arrival, speaks out, “You needn't do that, Kun. I’ll go and have them take me to their headquarters.”

“What the hell?!” Kun shouts out incredulously, “You might as well just paint a target on your chest!”

“I won’t introduce myself as Moon Taeil of the Hwarang, of course,” Taeil sighs as he rises to his feet, “I’ll tell them that we’re soldiers here to just secure the location. At any rate, it should buy you enough time to get away.”

While you and Shotaro lay shocked into silence, Kun doesn’t relent, “Listen to yourself! You really think they’ll let you waltz in and fuck with them like that?! You know how they work! There’s no way in hell that those bastards don’t hate our guts! They won’t believe that shit about us being soldiers for a second!”

“Well, even if I do get captured, I have the status of a Lord. They can’t just kill me.”

“You have got to be kidding me.” Kun’s face is a near vibrant red at the moment, “You think they’ll give a shit about a title you have from the Kingdom they’re against?! You go out there, you’re signing your death warrant. You really think I’ll just let you do that?!”

No matter what the Commander yells at him, Taeil’s expression doesn’t change.

“I’ve made my decision. Nothing you say can convince me otherwise.”

Kuns fists begin to shake by his sides. In all your time with the Hwarang, you’ve never seen either of them act like this before.

“No! No! What the hell are the Hwarang going to do without their Chief?!” Kun shouts, “You’re coming with me even if I have to knock you out and drag you along! You have a responsibility to the Hwarang! You don’t get to die and run away from that!” He’s screaming at Taeil, his white knuckled fists now gripping the front of the other man’s robes and his eyes red with held-back tears.

Yet his fury and pleas break across Taeil’s impassable calm like wind against a mountain.

“This is a direct order!” Taeil says sternly as Kun’s hands drop from his robes, “You will go to Kyeju to meet with the rest of our men. The two of you will accompany him as well.” Kun stumbles back a step or two at the force of Taeil’s voice.

“You’re going to tell me what to do…? What the hell is this?!” Kun asks near incredulously.

“Aren’t your Chief’s orders absolute?” Taeil asks with a tilt of his head, “You’ve ordered men to kill themselves, or to become Furies from disobeying that rule. Are you somehow an exception? Is that the sort of warrior you want to be?”

Kun says nothing.

As long as he’d been commander, Kun strove to lead by example. He lived by the O Gye and demanded that others do likewise to groom the Hwarang into true warriors. There’s no doubt Taeil had counted on that fact. He meant to do it to keep Kun alive.

Taeil looks to you and Shotaro, stepping a few paces in your direction, “I want you to leave with Kun. If you take too long, they’ll attack and my surrender will mean nothing.” He gives you two a small shove to get you moving, Shotaro turns to look at Kun.

“Commander… Let’s go.”

He only stands, chewing his lip, until Taeil lays his hands on his friend’s shoulders, giving him a warm smile.

“Hey, Kun… Let it go. Let me go.” Taeil says softly, “You’ve run yourself ragged trying to earn me the status and fame that I wanted. You even turned yourself into a Fury… It kills me to see you do all of these things for me… I’m not worth it.”

Kun doesn’t meet his friend’s gaze, he instead blinks rapidly, trying to hold back tears, and stares desperately at the floor. Then he swallows the lump in his throat, his voice tight and strained when he speaks, “I– If I do this, then what have I been fighting for all these years? I became a warrior, served our Kingdom… I won numerous battles and killed men… All because I thought you’d be there at the end with all of us…”

“I’m sorry,” Taeil’s voice reflects the softness of the other’s, “I brought you here, I did this to you. Thinking back on it, it was all sort of a dream. We weren’t real warriors yet but we strapped on our swords and went to work.” His voice is warm, but that seems to make it even more difficult for Kun to let go.

The room is still before the commander speaks, “Osaki… Send a message to our remaining men. We need to secure an escape route.” His gaze then falls to you, “Stay here. Once we’re ready, I’ll come get you.”

“Okay,” you nod quickly. And with that, Shotaro and Kun leave, and Taeil and you are alone once more.

“Take this with you,” Taeil says as he begins to reach for something in his robes. After a moment, he hands you a small cloth bag, it clinks as it rests in your palm.

“What is it?”

“Money. To help you escape. I wasn’t able to do anything for you. This is a token of my appreciation, for all you’ve done for us. Please, take it.” His warmth still lingers on the fabric of the bag, you feel a lump rise in your throat. “You still have time. I’ll tell Kun. Once you get away, go somewhere safe and look for Doctor Namekawa… Just forget you had anything to do with us. Marry someone you love and live a peaceful life. Find happiness.”

While you appreciate his kind gestures you cannot find it within yourself to follow his guidance, “No, I won’t run. I want to go with Kun. I’m… I’m his page…” Your teeth catch your lip, afraid that if you say any more you may cry. Instead, you look up to Taeil and do your best to smile.

His eyes are warm as he looks to you, “Our Commander’s been blessed with some great friends. I’ll be counting on you, then. Take care of him for me.”

Eventually, Kun and Shotaro return. They gather you and the rest of the men in an outer courtyard on the premises, including Jeno and Sungchan.

“What?!” Jeno shouts, “We’re going to leave Chief behind? Is that true Commander?!”

“Chief’s orders,” Kun says sternly, “You’re all going to escape this place and I’ll be right behind you.”

“If he just surrenders, then his cover will be blown immediately!” Jeno insists, “At least here, I could remain by his si–”

“I said, ‘Chief’s orders’! Or do you have shit in your ears?!” Kun snaps, “Don’t you dare put Taeil’s efforts in vain with your stupid suggestions!”

Jeno looks as if he wants to respond, but instead he looks down as he tightens his fists and shakes.

Just then, Sungchan says, “I’m going to stay. I understand they’re the Chief’s orders. However, as a warrior of the Hwarang, I cannot abandon the Chief.”

“Jeong Sungchan!” Shotaro raises his voice, only to be interjected.

“Sungchan you bastard…” Kun frowns, “You really want this steel in your gut right now?”

“No! It’s not like that,” Sungchan’s eyes burn with intense vigor as he glares back at Kun. “I understand you, more than anyone else, want to remain here. But the Chief entrusted the Hwarang to you, which is why you can’t… So that’s why I want to protect him in your stead, Commander!”

Kun curls his lip, staring at him for a long moment before unsheathing his blade at his hip.

“Commander!” As the exclamation leaves Shotaro’s mouth, Kun points the tip of the sword toward Sungchan’s throat.

“You said you’ll protect the Chief, right?”

Sweat trickles down Sungchan’s reddened cheeks, “...Yes, I will.”

“Then you’d better keep your goddamn word. No matter what, your eyes don’t leave Moon, got it?”

Sungchan’s eyes grow wide, trembling for a moment but soon after brim with a fiery determination, “Yes, sir! I, Jeong Sungchan, promise to protect the Chief's life, no matter the cost!”

It seems as if he’s convinced Kun, as the latter returns his blade to its sheath. “Let’s go.” His words are curt as he nods quikly before leaving the residence behind.

In a short while, Taeil and Sungchan will hand their terms of surrender to the Goguryeo army. You find yourself looking back over your shoulder many times as you run. Soon, Taeil will surrender to his enemies. Perhaps, you think time and time again, if you turn around now, you can rescue him,

Shotaro seems to feel the same way, but Kun never once turns back.

April 7th, 666 – The Road South, Kingdom of Silla You run and run through the forest to Kyeju. It doesn’t matter how quickly you get there– it’s not soon enough to bring back an army to save Taeil.

“Are you alright?” Shotaro asks as he falls in step by your side, “We can rest if you’re tired.”

“I’m alright,” you shake your head, “I can keep going.”

Kun, with his back to you, says nothing, but you can feel each pained step he takes away from his friend.

The sun begins to dip towards the western horizon and night starts to fall when your party is stopped by a group of Goguryeo soldiers.

“You there! Stop!” One of them commands, his hand already hovering over the hilt of his sword, “Where are you headed?”

Kun only frowns and makes his way to walk past the soldier.

“He said to stop!” Another soldier yells out, “Goddamn it, are you more of those Silla guys?”

“Hold,” the first man pauses, “I’ve seen him before. You’re that bastard from the Hwarang, aren’t you?”

“You mean those guys that offed Suh?” The soldiers around them begin to scramble for their weapons.

Unfortunately, they aren’t fast enough for Kun. His hair snaps white and he shoots forward, toward the soldiers, sword in hand. His strikes are so fast and elegant that the eye barely even has time to perceive what happened before the two men fall dead.

“Wrong day to fuck with me, boys.”

A volley of soldiers rush forward, as well as a few arrows loosened in his direction. One of the arrows pierces his shoulder and Kun cries out, swiftly pulling it from the wound. It immediately begins to close as he smirks at them, “That’s how it feels getting shot, huh? Not as bad as I thought.” His gaze sharpens on those left before him, “This is nothing! This doesn’t even come close to what Taeil’s going through!”

Kun launches himself at the nearest of the soldiers, his sword already in motion and his face twisted by grief and anger. Even without Fury powers, Kun and Shotaro could have made easy work of this small troop of men… But rage and frustration boiling over since you’d left Taeil had erupted in a torrent of violence.

“You can’t use your powers–!” You call out to Kun, trying to stop his relentless assault.

“Shut up!” He snarls at you, “Stay out of this!”

He knows what he’s doing, but he’s far past caring. Kun leaps from tree to tree, his sword flashing like lightning. Every time it moves, a life ends. Rage, anguish and an unrestrained thirst for blood radiates from him like heat from a blaze from a fire. Blood soaks his face and hands. Still, he cuts and cuts, never satisfied.

You see Shotaro and Jeno sweating as they stand silently, watching Kun fight as a Fury. They’re mesmerized and you can hardly blame them. Every swing of his sword spills a man to the dirt. He looks like a monster. At last, the only man left alive is Kun himself.

Silence falls over the forest once more, save for the birds that have restarted their chatter,

“Shotaro… Jeno… Go see if there’s any more of them.” Desperate to distance themselves from the bloodshed, the two depart quickly after Kun’s orders. “You. Go with them.”

Normally you would do as he’d asked and followed after them but now…

“What?” Kun turns to you, noticing your hesitation, “I gave you an order.” His words cut like a knife but you don’t move.

“I’m sorry, but I can’t do that.”

“I am your commanding officer. I am giving you an order.” He sounds angry, as he oft does, but just behind that there's a deep, miserable sadness. If he doesn’t stay angry, you feel, he’d probably be crying.

“I promise I won’t get in your way, but please, just let me stay here with you.” There’s nothing you can do for him, but you cannot bear to leave him alone.

He turns his back to you– to everything, his face hidden. You have no idea what expression he’s wearing.

You search yourself for something to say, something to ease him, but you find nothing within yourself to better him. And, after a few moments, he speaks.

“What the hell did I do… all of this for?”

How can this be the fate dealt by the god for two men so honest and determined? It just doesn’t seem fair…

“Was it just so I could give Taeil to those bastards? I busted my ass to give my friend to the enemy?” His voice trembles with every word, the weight of it all still resting heavily on him, “I was going to make him important. Help him carry himself to his family’s standards. I wanted to see him fight in the kind of battles they wrote about. Like a true warrior… I wanted to see just how far the owner of a school in the sticks could go.”

You’re not even sure if he knows that you’re still here. If he does, it seems as if he no longer cares.

“I thought we were shooting for the same dream. Long as it was for him, I felt like I could do anything. So what the hell am I doing here, alive, while he’s… he’s god knows where?! After all that self-righteous preaching, what did I do?! I turned around and left him to the wolves! He… I’m just like the king. Soon as things get dangerous, I turn tail and leave better men to deal with the mess! God damn it! Why am I alive?!”

It tears you apart to hear him lament his inner machinations aloud. You find yourself stepping forward, wrapping your arms around him, pressing your face against his uniform.

“Taeil said… I mean, after you’d left, I told him that you’d figure it out,” you say softly, “and he said that I was asking too much of you.” Tears run hot down your cheeks, “It’s not your fault, you can’t blame yourself… He didn’t want you to die. That’s why you’re still alive. Just… Please don’t blame yourself.”

Kun listens, saying nothing. Or perhaps he didn’t even hear you. Why do words feel so powerless when you need them the most? What good are they if you cannot comfort someone at their lowest?

“He did this to save me… but what the hell am I supposed to do without Moon Taeil of the Hwarang? The dream of helping him is what brought me here in the first place.” Kun’s shoulders shake, “Now that dream has left me… I don’t have anything left. I’m nothing.” He gives a short bark of humorless laughter, “Seriously Moon… Stop giving me all the shitty jobs.” His voice chokes on a sob and falls silent.

April 10, 666 – Ungjin, Kingdom of Silla The days that followed were somber, and eventually your group returned to Ungjin before regrouping with Yuta in Kyeju. When you arrived in the city, Jeno mentioned he was going to visit a friend of his, and left. However, you think Jeno’s just trying to be considerate and give Kun some space.

Arriving back at the compound, you’re shocked to see none other than Li Yongqin waiting for you.

“Evening,” he says as you walk inside, “Who would’ve thought you guys would ever come to visit me?”

“Nevermind that you should be in Sabi– why are you up this late? Just look at you,” Kun frowns, crossing his arms.

“I’m a bit tired of sleeping alone, you know?” Yongqin muses, “At this rate, I’ll never get a chance to shine again… Seems to me it’s time to join you guys.”

“The hell you won’t! What makes you think you can hold a sword with that body?” Kuns words cut through the air.

“Come on, cut me some slack.” Yongqin snorts, “I’ve been feeling great lately. So…” As he begins his next statement, he turns to cough into his fist. The fit doesn’t relent until he crouches on the floor, coughing painfully with strained breaths.

“Are you alright, Yongqin?” You ask, rubbing his back as he tries to catch his breath. Under your palm, you can feel the bones of his back. At first glance, he may look to be improving but he’s lost a lot of weight and it’s almost painful to look at.

“See?” Kun turns to look down at him, “What’d I tell you? Why don’t you admit you’re sick for once, and take it easy?”

Yongqin bites his lips out of frustration, grimacing at the thought of admitting his weakness, he sighs deeply and rises to his feet, “So, how’s Moon doing? Too busy to visit me again?”

You flinch at the mention of Taeil, which causes your body to jolt unexpectedly. Kun, however, is unfazed by the question.

“He’s a little preoccupied at the moment.”

“How’s his shoulder doing? Isn’t it tough for him to be up and about?”

“That was a while ago. He’s fine.” Kun says, “He may not be able to wield his sword but, well, with his promotion, it’s not like he’s charging from the front lines anyway.”

“Spare me,” Yongqin waves his hand, “You’re bragging about his promotion like it’s you out there and not him. But… that’s good to hear. Taeil’s okay then.” The Hwarang seems to have eased down. It looks as if Taeil’s well-being is the only thing keeping Yongqin invested in his own health.

“Look,” Kun states, “I promise I’ll bring him next time. Just sit tight, okay?”

“Sure, I’ll wait. But I’m not holding my breath. You’ve always been a bad liar, Kun.”

“Who the hell are you calling a liar? I’ve never lied to you about Taeil.” The tone of their conversation sounds like their usual banter, but you can understand why Jeno may have been inclined to step out. You begin to gather that there’s much for them to reminisce on, so you take the chance to sneak outside.

Cool nighttime air whispers against your cheeks as you gaze to the stars hanging above. It seems like tonight would be the final farewell between Kun and Yongqin, you need to let them have this moment to themselves. Being an outside observer to the intimacy of their conversation tells you this, at least.

In the midst of your contemplation, you think you see Jeno speaking to someone in the distance. You know he said he’d been planning to meet a friend in Ungjin but you don’t recognize the figure.

“Are you sure about that? You’re the Commander’s acquaintance, aren’t you?” You hear Jeno speak to him as you slowly approach. “You’re already here so why don’t you stop by?”

“I think I’ll pass on that.” The person says coolly.

“Why?” Jeno questions further, “This may be the last time we step foot in Ungjin.”

“Wasn’t Taeil just arrested by Goguryeo soldiers in Hanseong?” The person murmurs, “I don’t know what I’d say to Kun in a time like this, knowing what everyone’s been through and all.”

Jeno’s head suddenly hangs, as the words from the conversation penetrate and resound around his head, “You don’t need to mince words. Just, you know, tell them how you feel… talk about what you’ve been up to, or what you’ve seen. Isn’t that good enough?”

“Jeno…” For a brief moment, the stranger looks unsettled by the suggestion. However, he takes a deep breath and continues, “But I was never one of the Hwarang. I just happened to be around when the newer group was established.”

“Then why did you paint them as Furies?” Jeno frowns, “If they didn’t matter to you anymore, then you wouldn’t go through the trouble of drawing that? It’s not like it’d make you any money.”

“Well…” The other stops.

“So, are you absolutely sure there’s nothing you’d want to say to the Commander, Colonel or Jaemin? You’re positive?” Jeno lists off the names of the Hwarang, only making you question the stranger yourself. Is he a friend of theirs? Perhaps Jeno had met with him to bring him to your side?

Whatever the case, the stranger’s countenance gives the impression that he’s reluctant to be involved at all.

As you’re thinking of this person, a voice speaks up behind you, “You should go and talk to Yongqin while you can.”

Kun. You hadn’t heard the door open, much less his footsteps approach.

“S- Sure,” you say quickly, spinning on your heels and walking into the house from the darkness.

After making smalltalk for a while, Kun rejoins you and begins to say his farewell to him, “We’ll see you later, Li. Don’t trouble Namekawa too much.”

“I never do,” Yongqin shakes his head, “The man just worries too much.”

“Forever the smartass,” Kun rolls his eyes jokingly, “Whatever the case, we’ll be on our way soon.”

“Leaving already?” Yongqin asks, eyebrows raised.

“Goodnight, Yongqin. Please take care of yourself.” You say with a small smile and begin to turn to leave.

“Hey,” Yongqin calls out to you, “Can I have a word?” He beckons you over with a gentle gesture so you walk to him.

“Is something the matter?”

“I know he won’t admit it, but Kun looks like shit. Are things at the front going bad?”

If you speak too carelessly you can give away information– information that can easily hurt Yongqin, so you fall silent.

“Here’s the thing: I don’t like that man at all, and quite frankly, I can’t give a rat’s ass what happens to him. But… I want you to be by his side. If he goes down, then the Hwarang go down with him.”

“I understand…” you murmur out before Kun butts in.

“Are we done here? Time to get going.”

He doesn’t ask a thing about your conversation as he begins walking briskly ahead of you on the darkened streets. Watching him make that promise of bringing Taeil the next time he’d see Yongqin… it seems as though that burden of promise, and the potential of it being left unfulfilled, weighs heavily on him.

Suddenly, he stops in his tracks.

“You should go on ahead and go home.”

“Huh?” You pause yourself, “What do you mean? What do you plan on doing?”

“I’m going to speak to the Goguryeo forces in Hanseong,” he turns to face you, “And I’m going to personally ask them to release Taeil.”

“You’re going now?!” You sputter, “I thought you said they can’t be reasoned with?”

“If we can’t get results, then I can’t say we’ve done everything we could.”

“It’s not safe for you to go there! They could capture you at any moment!” Frantic energy runs in your voice, “If they take you like they did Taeil…”

Yesterday this idea would have been preposterous to Kun, what happened to mak him change his mind?

“So you’re telling me to my face that this decision is a mistake?”

“No… No I’m not saying that.”

“Then what is it?” He snaps, “If you have something to say, just say it.”

“Stay strong.” You raise your voice, nearly shocking yourself, “You of all people know what needs to be done.”

“I decide on what I do. It’s not your place to say.”

“I understand, but what will you do if you’re arrested by the Goguryeo army?”

“So what if I am?” He frowns, crossing his arms, “Sitting here and talking about ‘what-ifs’ isn’t any better than taking action.

“So you’re going to let Minhyung and Jisung’s sacrifices go in vain?!”

“What do you know?!” He explodes, and you have to stop yourself from taking a step back.

“E- Even I can understand a little!” You refuse to let your convictions amount to nothing. With a heavy heart you continue, “I was there when they gave their lives for… I saw it with my own eyes. Both of them loved the Hwarang. And they trusted their commander! If either of them saw what I am now, it would crush them.”

“Crush them, huh?” At last, he seems to let go of a bit of the tension in his shoulders. They relax slightly as he looks off into the distance. “Do you believe it to be the survivor’s duty to carry on the will of the deceased?”

“I think so.”At least that’s what it feels as if you’re doing now. The reason you can’t back down, even if Kun feels compelled to yell at you, is because you know Jisung and Minhyung would have done the same.

“Damn, guess this means all I have to look forward to in life is shouldering more burdens until I die.”

“Kun…”

He shakes his head and gives you a short, melancholic smile, “Sorry for yelling at you. You were right. You did know. There’s no point in me being irrational when our situation is already grim, huh? It wouldn;t look too great if there’s nowhere for the Chief to go when he gets out eventually.”

With that last statement, you see that he’s finally regained his composure, and you respond in kind by calming down, “I know I told you to stay strong, but please, don’t push yourself too hard. I noticed you’ve been running around during both day and night time.”

“Where do you have all this time to show concern for every person you meet?” Kun sighs out, “Once we leave here, if you so much as collapse on the way out, I’m leaving your ass behind. Brace yourself.”

“Okay!”

You’re happy to have gotten through to him, even if it was just a courteous gesture. He begins walking again and you run right behind him, doing your best to keep up with the swiftness of his pace.

At the entrance of the city, you regroup with Jeno and Shotaro, the two greeting you quickly.

“Commander, I need to speak with you urgently,” Jeno says, looking frigid as he approaches Kun. “Please let me petition for the clemency of both the Chief and Sungchan! Surely the Goguryeo forces understand what killing Moon would detail. If we work hard, I’m sure we can find people to cooperate with us. So please–”

Kun stares at Jeno, who’s bowed over in a sign of respect, and seems to take his suggestion into consideration.

“...You beat me to it. I was going to say the same thing.”

“Commander! Then–”

“Osaki, I have a favor to ask you. Take her and head to Kyeju first.”

“What?!” You gasp out.

“We’re going to continue our fight for Taeil’s freedom. Your presence here is only a burden for us right now.” Earlier he’d given you the same instruction, albeit with a far more aggressive tone. But this time you can tell thoughtful consideration went into it.

You’re worried, of course. But there isn’t anything more you can argue.

“This is an order from your commander. We’ll meet up again soon so get out of here and stay sharp.”

It felt strange to part from them, as if some piece of yourself is now missing– but you don’t have much time to harp on it as you meet up with other troops in Kyeju.

You’re worried about what’s to become of Taeil, but perhaps because the situation seems grim, no one has brought it up.

May 1st, 666 – Outside of Kyeju, Kingdom of Silla Kun soon rejoined Shotaro and you as you resided in Kyeju, only after he’d settled his affairs for Taeil’s freedom in Ungjin first. Yuta had taken the main body of Hwarang soldiers to Koksan and then onto Bakjak to keep an eye on the Fury Corps. You have just left the small town with Wen Junhui’s men to hop onto the route to follow after him.

After a while, you manage to meet up with some allied soldiers, but many of them look at you with a strange mixture of curiosity and fear. It’s unpleasant, to say the least.

“Those are the Hwarang, right? The murderers?”

“Yeah, noble dogs that kill men for no reason– even their comrades! Best not to look at them for too long. You never know what might set them off.”

It isn’t difficult to hear the gossip that floats through the ranks.

“They sound like a bunch of old wives spinning those stories!” Shotaro scoffs, turning to look at Kun, “Want me to keep them quiet for you?”

“No.” Kun shakes his head, sounding more irritated than usual, “They want to talk, let them talk.”

“Are you alright?” You ask as you walk along, “You don’t look too well.”

“I’m fine.” He says but he clearly seems otherwise. His skin is a pale color, almost blue, and he looks exhausted. Marching during the day is hardly a pleasant walk for a Fury.

Taeil is clearly at the forefront of his mind. And although you hate to admit it, he has a good reason to be on edge.

“Excuse me, could you let me pass? Ah– apologies, oops…” Someone moves towards you from the back of the column of men, pushing his way through the rest of the marching soldiers.

“Hello,” a man, no older than Kun, steps forward and offers a bow, “Are you Qian Kun? I’ve heard a great deal about you and the Hwarang.”

“Who the hell are you?” Kun asks, puzzled.

“Pardon my rudeness, I’m still not fully functional with the language– my name is Wen Junhui, one of the commanders of the Tang forces. I’m sure I’ll be talking with the Hwarang a great deal in the future. It’s nice to meet you.”

It’s strange, for the man who claimed to command the infantry of men, he looks more like the son of a wealthy merchant than a soldier.

Kun snorts under his breath and turns away, leaving Junhui to look on for a moment longer.

“Do you have business with Kun?” Shotaro asks.

“Ah, yes. I was hoping to hear stories about the Seorabeol attacks from the Commander of the Hwarang himself.”

“Sure you wouldn’t rather hear some ridiculous rumor from a drunk soldier?” Kun bites, “Seems like everybody here loves to gossip.”

“I apologize for them. We’ve been far from home for a while and they’ve only grown more undisciplined as time progressed.” Junhui shakes his head to continue his original plan, “At any rate, I came here to give you an overview of how our forces are being deployed. We have five thousand soldiers in the advance guard, main body and rear guard. As the highest ranking officer–”

“Wen Junhui… The Wen Junhui who took back Hanseong a few months back?”

“That’s me,” he smiles.

“And you lost it.”

“Yes, well… I suppose I did. It was a misstep of my forces and I take full responsibility for it. But I assure you that we will be taking it back, and keeping it this time.”

Kun looks as if he’s just swallowed something rotten. He’d only just lost his Chief and it seems as if this newcomer’s trying to force himself into Taeil’s place. No one, no matter the skill, can replace his friend. Still, Junhui seems to have been expecting to be rebuffed, and continues, showing no sign of being put off by Kun's behavior.

“The advance guard is made up mostly of men from the Silla army. The rear guard, however, is composed of men from Tang. I’m thinking of promoting you to Deputy Commander in order to lead the advance guard. What do you say?”

“Why?”

“I have experience leading my men. And am I wrong to think that the advance guard would take more kindly to a fellow countryman than an outsider?” Junhui speaks plainly, “Besides, there isn’t anyone on our side or theirs who hasn’t heard the name Qian Kun. I can’t think of anyone better suited.” His copious praise does nothing to thaw Kun, they just stare at each other for a few awkward moments.

It’s painfully clear that the two of them don’t see eye to eye, and it cannot be a worse first impression.

“Well,” Junhui claps his hands together, “I suppose I better be on my way. We’ll talk later, and go over some more in-depth plans.” Their conversation ends as one-sided as it had begun, and the Tang general disappears into the swarm of marching soldiers.

Later that night, your group camps a short distance away from the rest of the force. Kun, sitting by the fire’s edge, beckons you and Shotaro over, “We need to talk.” The main bulk of the Hwarang forces are with Yuta heading even more northward, meaning that the only people in the camp were you, Shotaro, Kun and three dozen more Hwarang. “Remember what Junhui told us earlier?”

“About taking command of the advance guard?” Shotaro inquires, “What of it?”

“I’ve been thinking about what I want you guys to do. You can’t be in the advance guard, so I’ll have to send you off to fight with the main body or the rear guard.”

“So this means you’re going to take his offer?” Shotaro shifts as he speaks.

“Yes. You were in Seorabeol. You’d be a good commander for men who’ve never seen a real battle.”

“But…” A frown carves itself on the younger’s lips. Kun’s reasoning makes sense, but it doesn’t mean he has to like it. It feels as if Shotaro had grown attached to the idea of fighting in the same unit as Kun. Perhaps the commander is insensitive for either ignoring this sentiment, or not acknowledging it at all.

Shotaro sighs, resigning himself into a period of deep thought, looking up to Kun’s gaze, “Understood. Whatever you order me to do, I’ll do it. But first, I want you to tell me something. This doesn’t mean you’re planning to disband the Hwarang, does it? If I fight in this, it’ll be as a member of the Hwarang.”

It seems the two of you feel the same way. Kun’s hope may be flickering but yours isn’t.

“Fine. Whatever.” Kun seems disengaged.

“I should also point out that I think commanding soldiers is a little more than she can handle.” Shotaro adds, glancing over to you, “She doesn’t belong on the front line. She’s a page, not a soldier.” He rises to his feet, dusting the dirt from his knees, “Anyways, I’ll go and tell the others what you’ve decided.”

Kun and you are left alone with the crackling fire as Shotaro jogs back to the main encampment. He sighs and his shoulders drop. Suddenly he looks very, very tired.

“Why did you try to order us away?” The question leaves you before you can think it through.

He doesn’t answer, only tilts his head to look at the flecks of starlight dappling through the trees above. As the melancholy silence speaks, you nearly regret asking the question before he laments, “If I knew Taeil was coming back, then I could go out there ready to give my life to win. Just like Minhyung said– Taeil and I were the Hwarang. With him gone, there’s no way in hell I can carry all this on my own.”

When he normally speaks to you, he is oft cruel and rude, you’ve never heard him sound so defeated before.

“Yukhei was right, wasn’t he? Remember what he said when we decided to attack Hanseong? He said there was no way in hell Kim Yong would fund us without some sort of hidden agenda.” Kun huffs, “He was right. So was Jaehyun… You know who was the first to petition for a settlement between Goguryeo and our forces? Kim Yong.”

“...What?”

“He wanted to showcase our defeat as costly and an expenditure of life and resources. Make it abysmally clear that the war is funded on blood, and to keep his own money in his coiffers.” He laughs despondently and kicks at a rock by his foot, “Damn it, how couldn’t I see that coming? If I thought about it, that would’ve never slipped past me. I was desperate for Taeil to be off fighting big important battles, winning all sorts of glory… But I let it all blind me, we were played and Taeil lost his spirit…”

The Hwarang had put their lives on the line for the Kingdom. How could the King just let them be pawned around?

“Noble or commoner– we all busted our asses to get where we are. Aren’t warriors meant to be the masters of the battlefield? What the hell have we been fighting for this entire time? Is anything I believed in still true? We believed that we were fighting for something, so no matter the shit we had to crawl through, we did it. Turns out it was just a trench that just circles itself. What are we supposed to do now? What the hell am I supposed to believe in?”

Every word of his punctures you with pain. But the kingdom had betrayed them, their trust. The war had changed and it feels as if the Hwarang had been tossed aside. All that the Hwarang had done is fade away, what could Kun do to fix it?

“You lost what you believed in,” you say quietly, “They think as long as you’re there to lead, they’ll be fine and refuse to show fear in front of you. They want you to see the kind of men they are, which means they’ll fight to the death if you tell them to.” If anything, you want to soothe his wounded soul a bit. “But if someone were to ask why I’m here… I’d say it’s because I believe in you.”

Perhaps that’s the wrong thing to say, all you’ve done is give him something more to worry about.

Kun looks at you, but for once the light in his eyes is soft, “You’re right. If you lose sight of something the only person who can find it again is you. Besides, we’ve got a big fight coming up. Guess I should be thinking about how we’re going to win that, not whining about my problems.” With a small smile, he turns back to the stars.

You fall silent again, cicadas fluttering and chirping through the night being the only cacophony of sounds around you.

“Are you really going to stick around?” He asks. You know he wants to go alone, but you can’t go with Shotaro, you both know that.

“Yes, I am.” Perhaps you don’t know how you can help him just yet, but you can hardly leave him alone.

“Fine. Just stay out of my way.”

“I know.” You sit there in the silence of night, you’re just about to return to your tent when he groans out in pain. Almost immediately you know what’s happening, your fears confirmed when his hair begins to turn white at the roots. Quickly you scramble to your feet, urging him to his and leading him to the shadow of a large tree where the nearby soldiers won’t be able to see him.

“Damn it,” he curses through clenched teeth, “Why now?!”

With shaking hands you reach for your collar, and as he grasps your intent he grimaces. Kun takes a hold of your shoulders and roughly pulls you toward him, seconds later you feel a dull sting on the back of your neck and then the hot trickle of blood.

His warm breath comes in pants across your bare skin, but after a time his ragged gasps for deliverance begin to steady. And slowly, his grip loosens. Then, without a word, he pulls away from you.

“How long do you plan to keep letting me do this?” He mutters, as you turn to him, worry in his eyes.

“Forever,” you say simply, “As long as you need me, I’ll be here.”

“You’re a stupid woman,” he sighs, “And I’m a man who’s lost sight of what makes him human. How can you just let me cut you open like that and drink your blood? What the hell are you thinking?”

“It’s alright, Kun. I really don’t mind.”

There’s nothing for him to say to that.

The next day, along the route to Hanseong, the news breaks.

“So, Goguryeo forces are pulling out of Hanseong?” Wen Junhui frowns, “That’s… unexpected.” He and Kun stop to talk over the news and their next move.

“Unexpected? They’re cocky bastards that think we won’t try to retake the city.” Kun scoffs, “It’s the most opportune moment to take it back.”

“I’m not against going into battle,” Junhui states, “We are leading an army, after all. But the main body and the rear guard are still on their way. All I’m asking is that you wait until they catch up with us. Attempting to lay siege to the city with the men we have is folly beyond folly. We should–”

Kun sighs, “This isn’t a theoretical scenario from one of your war manuals.”

“Sun Tzu isn’t just a war manual. The highest form of generalship is balking enemy plans; the next best in preventing enemy junctions,” Junhui argues, standing his ground, “After that, it’s attacking armies in the field, and the worst of all is besieging walled cities. Therefore, we should only lay siege as a last resort. Attacking head-on is foolish. If you’re determined to be foolish, the best you can do is make sure your army is in the best condition possible and–”

“Though we have heard of stupid haste in war, cleverness has never been seen associated with long delays! No kingdom benefits from prolonged warfare!” Kun offers his rebuttal, “Remember that one? He’s saying that it might get messy, but it’s better to end your battles quickly. Taking your sweet time just comes back to bite you in the ass.”

“Qian… Don’t do that.” Wen Junhui’s brow furrows, “I’m not asking you to wait long. They should be here in just a few days.”

“And we’re just meant to sit here twiddling our thumbs until the Goguryeo army shows up?” Kun frowns, “If they catch us unaware then we’re screwed, no two ways about it.” He must sense that he caught a nerve in the other as he pushes ahead, “You want to miss this opportunity, fine. I’ll just take the advance guard and capture Hanseong myself.”

“That’s suicide!” Junhui shouts as Kun snorts derisively. He clearly has no intention of taking his opinion.

“I guess we’ll see. I’ll take Hanseong by tomorrow.” His lips pull back from his teeth in a feral grin, and he looks off in the distance toward Hanseong.

He isn’t being belligerent. He’s being reckless. With Kun like this, can you really win?

April 13th 666 - Hanseong, Kingdom of Goguryeo Hanseong is in turmoil. Your forces neared three thousand, while Hanseong’s barely had a thousand. And although the Silla forces easily outnumber your opponents, the guards are able to use their fortifications to great effect, fighting you to a standstill. Arrows fly, swords clash, and men scream in pain.

“We can’t keep this up,” Kun sighs out with crossed arms, “This is as good a time as any to attack the enemy lines.”

“Attack?” You look toward him in disbelief, as a nearby soldier cries out, “Their fortifications–”

“Can fall.” Kun says flatly, “An arrow or two won’t kill you.” The men around him are stunned into silence, never having imagined they would receive orders like this. Their commander, however, just stares back coldly. “What the hell did you come here to do? You’re here to fight a war. If you’re prepared to fight, you should be prepared to die. Am I wrong? So, when I give the word, you’re going to charge that line!”

The men before him pale, and many tremble. Eventually, one of them snaps, “I can’t do it! I don’t want to die here.”

No sooner had he turned to run, does Kun’s sword flash in the daylight, striking the soldier dead. The men watching swallow thickly. For a few moments they stay utterly silent. Commotion breaks out shortly afterward.

“What is this?!”

“Is he crazy?!”

Kun lets his cold eyes slide slowly across their ranks, and slowly the mumbling ceases, “Anyone else want to run? If you’re too scared to fight, go ahead. Be my guest. But anyone who runs will die by my hand. So either I kill you… Or you take your chance out there. Up to you.” With one final scowl, he turns back to the battlefield, taking off across it.

He runs through the throng of bodies and hail of arrows, falling upon the men defending the main gate like a vengeful god. His sword drips with fresh blood, you stay in the shadows of the treeline waiting for him to return.

Shotaro runs to the commander, grime and blood smeared across his face, “With another push we should be able to take the gate!”

“Great!” Kun shouts, “I believe in you Osaki!”

As Kun effortlessly slices through the enemy, the mood among his men begins to change. A ripple goes through them, a surge of newfound energy to fight. You can’t hear him from the distance, but he shouts something over his shoulder and his soldiers fight with intense vigor.

And soon after the sun passes its zenith, the city gates open, the news of it spreading like wildfire.

The Silla forces sweep into the city soon after, finding relative ease when liberating the streets. Kun glances at you with a grin as Shotaro runs up to him.

“Commander! The men we sent to the town head’s home ran into trouble!”

“What?” Kun almost sounds confused, “We haven’t seen any real resistance so far.”

Shotaro shakes his head, “I’m unaware of the details. Should I go see…?”

“No. I’ll go.” Kun stops him, “I’m leaving you in charge here.”

“What would you like me to do?” You ask.

“Come with me,” he says simply, “Don’t want you wandering around. Might get hit by a stray arrow or something.

And thus it was decided. You quickly follow after Kun, and even upon approaching the building, you can tell something is wrong. Inside, your men are dead on the floor, their bodies laid out like the spokes of a wheel, and at its hub… Lee Donghyuck.

“What are you doing here?” Kun asks, more nonchalant than you’d have thought. “Decided you’d take a vacation? You do know there’s a war out there, right? Or maybe you’re just hiding out here, hoping you won’t get hurt.”

“We were acting under orders from the King.” Xiao Dejun, whom you hadn’t seen upon your arrival, speaks out, “We are here to deliver a secret message. We did not expect to be drawn into battle and we certainly did not expect to encounter you here.”

“Huh,” Kun scoffs, “Gaesomun yells jamp and you leap. You sure are dedicated.”

“Well, I didn’t think I’d see you again so soon, Qian…” Donghyuck leers with a snide grin.

“And I didn’t think you were so anxious to get your ass beat again. Don’t worry though, I’m happy to oblige.”

Donghyuck grinds his teeth and draws his sword at his hip, “Killing you will erase the humiliation I suffered at your hands. You and your dogs have been a thorn in my side since Wonweol. Today, I will have my revenge.”

“... Sounds as if you’ve got this covered,” Dejun sighs, stepping back once more, “He’s all yours.”

Kun just as easily draws his sword, “Guess the face wasn’t enough, maybe if I take an arm you’ll get the message.” He soars across the room at Donghyuck, their blades rattling against one another as Donghyuck block’s the commander’s strike. Then, the demon pushes back and Kun is thrown across the hall.

“You’re not getting away,” Donghyuck says coolly, his hair turning stark white, just as Kun’s had done at the beginning of the battle. In the blink of an eye, he leaps after his opponent, whipping his sword in a quick slash. Kun brings up his blade at the last second before the strike could wound him.

“You’re slow,” Donghyuck taunts, “Your movements lack finesse. Don’t tell me that killing humans has tired you out? Last time you said you were a Demon…” Their blades locked together, Kun’s begins to shake under the pressure of the other’s force.

Donghyuck’s right, though, Even with his Fury abilities, Kun is slower than before, too unfocused.

“Ah, I see,” the Demon’s eyes flicker to the open door for a moment, “The sun’s still out. You don’t like it much, do you?” He chuckles, “Don’t worry, I won’t go easy on you just because you’re weak. After all, a warrior always gives all he can, no matter the situation. That is your code, isn’t it?”

“Damn you!” Kun jumps backwards, but not fast enough to escape Donghyuck’s blade. It arcs down across the Hwarang’s chest, blood erupting from the gash and splattering to the floor. Kun drops to his knees, skidding across the hard wooden panels panting heavily as blood blooms across his robes and pools on the floor below him.

Agonizing seconds pass as both you and he wait for the blood to stop, yet it continues to fall through his fingers clenched to the robes hanging from the wound. “What the hell is this?!” Kun asks through clenched teeth as he stares daggers at Donghyuck standing before him.

Donghyuck laughs, almost as if Kun had told him a joke, “What’s the matter? Not healing like you should? This,” his wrist flicks upward to show off his blade, which almost looks to be faintly glowing, “is Hwangun’s Blade. It’s been passed down through my family for generations, but… no one had ever thought to test it on a Demon. This is an excellent chance to see what it can do. And you know what? I can use it to put down a fake Demon.”

He smirks, giving the impression that he’s figured this victory is a foregone conclusion.

“You must be pretty desperate if you’re willing to grab your family’s magic sword. Really need something like that to take on a fake Demon?” Kun gives his own taunting laugh, but Donghyuck’s grin doesn’t falter.

“You humiliated me for the first time in my life. Nothing is too much if it will send you to hell.” With another flick of his wrist, Donghyuck sends droplets of gore spraying down onto the floor, “Your abilities can’t heal any wounds from this blade. You became a Fury to defeat me, but now that sacrifice means nothing.”

“So, tell me if I’ve got this right. All I have to do is avoid getting cut by that thing? Hell, before I became a Fury, all I did was dodge swords. This’ll be easy.”

“Does your impudence know no bounds?” The Demon scoffs, “Fine. I’ll put your short lived defiance to the test.” His blade shimmers a blue-white and seems to shiver with his murderous intent. The air is thick, feeling like a struggle to just breathe.

Donghyuck slashes downwards toward Kun, who’s able to dodge out of the way in time, bringing up his own sword to strike back. But when it arcs upward, instead of hitting flesh, Kun’s sword cuts through air. In tandem with the strikes, Donghyuck moves too fast for the bare eye to see, Kun’s margin for error becoming slimmer and slimmer. With another dodge, the Demon slams his riposte into the Hwarang’s shoulder. Kun’s robe is torn away, displaying a fresh wound.

“Good… You’re overthinking on how you might kill me,” Donghyuck smirks, “But I want to see more. I want to see your face when you realize that you can’t kill me and that I will win!”

Blood pours from him, but Kun brings up his sword to catch Hwangun. Teeth clenched, you know that he’s lost far too much blood to carry on for much longer. Donghyuck kicks Kun back and as he does, the commander’s hair returns to its natural hue.

“What the hell?!” Kun cries out, still in a defensive stance.

“Reached your limit, I see,” the Demon chortles, inching closer, “Even a false Demon is better than this pathetic existence! You might as well be an insect.” His laugh echoes through the hall, gloating over the near unconscious Kun, “I want to hear you cry! Scream! Beg me for your life! You and your filth have stood in my way for too long. I’ll kill you and the Hwarang!”

Kun’s head twitches, “Kill…the Hwarang? You?” It’s almost as if he’s keeping himself upright with sheer force of will at this point. “After we left Taeil and the Hwarang fell to me, I felt like there was no way I could do all that by myself. I was just about ready to give it up.” Suddenly, the hair on his head shifts back to its demonic white, “...But now, when you say you want to erase everything we did… I’ll be goddamned if I let you destroy the Hwarang!”

Ichor continues to fall from him and you know that if he’s to continue like this he’ll most certainly die.

“Kun, no!” You cry out, “If you don’t stop you’re going to die!”

His eyes flick to you and you can already see the resolution in his gaze, then he gives you a grin before looking back to Donghyuck, “You really think I care about how much of my future I’ve gotta burn to get this bastard? I can’t let him kill me here. I can’t let this bastard and his damn sword get the best of me now!”

Relaxed now, Donghyuck speaks once more, “You’re practically dead already. What do you intend to do? This charade is pathetic.” Almost lazily, he swings his sword again.

Kun cries out in pain, not having the strength to lift his sword entirely to block the blow. Then Donghyuck’s sword slams into his right shoulder. Kun’s clothes are soaked in blood, his skin the color of parchment.

“I hoped you might be entertaining, but I suppose it’s time for me to say goodbye now. Shame you don’t have enough energy to talk. I miss that dry wit,” Donghyuck sighs, “What’s the matter? Can’t hold your sword anymore? Where’s that warrior spirit?”

Even though he struggles to draw breath, Kun musters what little strength he has left to reach for his sword. The point of the blade tips and weaves in the air as blood pours from his body, but he stands. Donghyuck lifts his sword slick with the commander’s blood, and smiles.

“At last! I can kill you with my own hands and erase the humiliation you gave me!”

Before he can land another blow, the building shakes as an ear splitting crash barrels through somewhere on the estate. Smoke rapidly fills the room, making it hard to see.

“What is this?!” Donghyuck spits, distractedly turning from Kun to find the root of the interruption.

“Fire! Fire!” Cries scream out from deep in the building, and you can ascertain that one of the trebuchets aligning the fortified walls had been turned against the city for some reason or another in a last act of defense.

The fire from the lit fodder spreads quickly, roaring around the room and licking at the sides of the hall. Black smoke pours into the room, irritating your eyes and throat. Even as the room plunges into a near unbearable heat, the two men don’t lower their swords.

It’s only when the ceiling begins to give way does Donghyuck remark, “Damn it, this place is falling apart.” Not wanting to endanger himself, he shoves his sword back into its scabbard angrily, glaring across the smoldering wreckage at Kun. “I’ll let you go this time. We’ll finish this duel another day. And you will die.”

He disappears shortly thereafter and you run to Kun, “Are you alright?!”

Waxen skin and face writhing in pain, he doesn’t respond as he drops to the floor. And as he does, the near forgotten Dejun walks toward you from his corner, unbothered by the flames around him.

“The Demon clans no longer intend to involve themselves in your governmental squabbles.”

“Why?” Kun asks, sweat beading on his forehead.

“We owed favors to Goguryeo. We feel those have now been repaid.” Dejun shrugs, “Besides, even you must know that they will soon fall, regardless of the efforts of my kin.”

You spot a bitter smile creeping along Kun’s lips, “... Yeah.”

“And I suppose you intend to watch that ship sink?” Dejun asks, “Silla never gave your Hwarang the recognition it so desired, and pawned you off when they had nothing to lose. Why do you still fight?” The truth of his words drive a knife into Kun’s heart, and you see his face fall.

“We’re knights of the Crown, we fight for them no matter what, right?” Kun says with ragged breaths, “What I’m fighting for now isn’t Hanseong or Pyongyang, or any of those bastards that call themselves ministers. What I– no– What we’re fighting for is the bond in our hearts. The bond that we joined the Hwarang with.”

His hand clenches to his chest and he lets out a small ‘fuck’ before continuing, “It’s not easy, not by a long shot, but… I’d feel like a real asshole if I died before Taeil came back.”

Dejun closed his eyes while Kun spoke, he now stands silent, “If Donghyuck chooses to involve himself with either of you again, he will have betrayed the moral code that binds all of our kind. He will no longer have the support of the clans. He will be on his own.” He looks to the building around him, “I imagine this will be of little concern to him, but I ask you to hear his mind when he next tries you, he is not doing so at the behest of the Demon clans. He is, I fear, your problem now.”

Then, he turns and disappears. As you look to where he once stood, you hear Kun thud to the floor, collapsing from relief or exhaustion, you cannot tell. But, he’s fallen unconscious, and if you cannot escape soon, you’ll burn to death.

“Hello?! Are you here?!” A figure bursts into the hall, shrouded in smoke but with a voice you recognize.

Shotaro had come to the rescue in your most dire hour. He quickly helps you lift Kun so you can shoulder the weight of his body together as you leave the estate.

Hanseong, the town Kun had fought tooth and nail to overtake, only remained in Silla custody for a few days. As an army of Goguryeo soldiers came within the following week to recapture the city, leaving your commander’s mission for naught. After the battle, Wen Junhui’s army, along with the remaining Hwarang, set off to Koksan. Kun had somehow miraculously survived, but by no means has he recovered. For days he drifts in and out of consciousness, settling in at a small residence in Kyeju for him to recover.

April 20th, 666 - Kyeju, Kingdom of Silla Since you’d arrived in Kyeju, you’d buisied yourself with taking care of Kun. As a Fury, most normal means of healing and medicine have little to no effect on him. So, most of your nursing consists of fervently hoping that his natural strength and tenacity would bring him through. Fortunately, your prayers begin to pay off and in time his wounds begin to heal.

Although those made by Donghyuck’s blade did not do so easily, or quickly. You find yourself thinking of the battle of Hanseong. After watching Kun, many of the reluctant soldiers came around to clash swords with the enemy. They had told him it was an honor to fight alongside the Hwarang, for they were true warriors.

You replay that fated battle several times over the course of your day, you’re just about to do it again as you open the door to Kun’s room, set to change his bandages. Yet, you don’t have the chance, as when you peer in, you see him sitting at his desk. He’s healed enough to move and speak without pain, but he’s still meant to be confined to his bed.

“You shouldn’t be up,” you say quickly, walking inside and shutting the door behind you, “When I said you were healthy enough to get up, I didn’t mean you were healthy enough to work!”

“It’ll be only a minute,” he murmurs, looking over a few papers before him, “I’m going back to bed as soon as I finish this.”

“You nearly died! You need rest!” You rush to him, setting the bandages down on the tabletop.

“Died?” He laughs once, dryly, “Me? Hah. That was nothing. Barely a scratch.”

“Barely a– Do you know how long I’ve been taking care of you?!”

“Fine, fine,” he relents with a sigh. “Just a bit more reading, it’s all I ask.”

You sigh too, reaching for his blanket he’d strewn aside when he awoke. Moving to stand behind him, you drape it over his shoulders, “At least let me put this on you. You’re going to catch a chill.”

“Hm, I’m sure even if I said I don’t want it, you wouldn’t listen to me.”

“I’m glad you see how this works,” you say with a smile, “Now, as soon as that’s done, it’s straight back to bed.”

At last he turns to look at you, his face quirked in a small, bitter smile, “Alright, fine. Sorry for the trouble.”

“Huh?” You stare back at him intently.

“Guess I should be thanking you and Shotaro, huh? Well… I appreciate what you did. Thanks.” His thanks are rarely unaccompanied by cynicism, sarcasm or outright derision but this is different. Noticing your baffled expression he speaks again. “Something wrong? Did I say something funny?”

“Oh! No no no,” you quickly assure him, “It’s not that.” It’s more you’ve never seen him act so nice.

After that, you leave him to his work, checking back an hour later to make sure that he’s asleep and not working himself to the bone. Once doing so, you return to your quarters for another few, quiet hours, before a visitor arrives in the night.

“I thought I’d come and pay him a visit…” You hear the voice of Wen Junhui speak out as you approach the common area, you also note Shotaro standing next to him.

“He’s resting at the moment–” You begin, but stop when you hear movement behind you.

“Sir–!” Shotaro says, rushing to Kun’s side, “I’m glad to see you standing! For a while, I really wasn’t sure what was going to happen.” His eyes begin to tear up and he blinks rapidly to clear them.

“C’mon, don’t give me that,” Kun gives a short laugh, “You really think I’d die so easily?”

“I’m sorry sir, you’re right,” he rubs his hand across his face awkwardly, trying to brush away the tears that refuse to stop forming.

“Kun,” Junhui says solemnly, “I’m going to be honest with you. You fought like a Demon back in Hanseong, I’ll give you that. Morale is through the roof. The whole army won’t stop talking about you. But your actions were dangerous and idiotic,” the once calm demeanor of the general turns angered. “You are a commanding officer, not a soldier! You don’t belong on the front line!”

“General Wen, he’s only just recovered… Don’t you think you’re being a bit too harsh–” Shotaro tries to quell the other’s discontent.

“No! I’m going to give my piece, I won’t let him slide out of this one!” Junhui shouts, “Listen to me, Qian Kun. Combining our men isn’t just about new clothes and new titles, we have to change about how we think about war. We have to learn new tactics. The commander charging at the front of the army does not show that we are improving our strategy!”

Flustered at this point, Junhui struggles hard to keep his composure, “If the soldiers are the hands and feet, then their commanding officer is the head. Without a head, the body is a useless mess! This war will be lost if we succumb to our own pride!”

Kun’s eyes go wide. The words similarly mirror one of the last things that Minhyung had said to him. Keeping his head on so that the body can move forward…

“Minhyung’s ghost back to haunt me,” Kun sighs out with a weighted smile, a faraway look in his eyes.

“Is something funny?” Junhui frowns, “This is serious! Don’t you understand how worried I was about you? Hell, how worried the whole army was about you?!”

For a few moments, Kun simply stares at him.

“Say what you want!” Junhui stands his ground, albeit a bit taken aback at the commander’s attitude, “It won’t change my mind!”

“You’re right, Wen. Sorry for worrying you.” He follows his surprisingly genuine apology with a similarly surprising bow.

Junhui has clearly prepared himself for a variety of reactions from Kun, but this had been none of them. For several moments he stands there, too flabbergasted to speak.

“My apologies to you too, Shotaro. I hear you helped carry me all the way here.”

“Oh no!” Shotaro shakes his head, “No, it was nothing. Anything for you, sir.”

June 19th, 666 – Koksan, Kingdom of Silla Summer blooms from the remnants of spring in full fury. Rumors and news about the intense fighting floats in and out of the town, and you grow uneasy thinking about the loss of lives on each side. In the subsequent weeks following Wen Junhui’s visit, he’s once again able to take Hanseong and keep a steady hand over keeping it in Silla's grasp. And although he hasn’t completely healed, Kun has decided to leave Kyeju as soon as he is well enough to march with Junhui who’s now stationed in Koksan.

The way there seems longer than you'd ever thought possible. At last, you’d caught up with the main body of the Hwarang.

Yuta’s at the door to greet you the moment you arrive at the estate.

“Commander,” Yuta says with a small smile, “I’m grateful to see you alive.”

“Glad to see you’re alright too, I hear you’ve been doing well.”

Although Yuta looks relieved to be reunited with Kun, he frowns and rubs his hand to his forehead. Perhaps fatigue from the battles occurring is beginning to get to him.

Kun looks past him to the people standing behind him, “Jeno, Sungchan, nice to see you’re still around. Was starting to get worried about you two.” Despite their commander’s voiced appreciations, both wear glum expressions.

It’s Sungchan who begins to shake before breaking down into tears, his voice quivering violently, “You entrusted me with Chief’s safety, b-but– I wasn’t strong enough! I couldn’t protect him!”

Although hearing his words, you cannot get yourself to grasp their meaning. For him to be this distraught can only mean one thing.

“We have been told that at the end of last month that Taeil was… beheaded in Pyongyang.” Yuta steps in after Sungchan fails to compose himself, being ushered aside and consoled by Jeno.

‘Beheaded.’ You swallow at the word. Taeil had been killed like a common criminal, and you know it would have been pure humiliation for him.

“Hm, didn’t even let him kill himself,” it almost seems as if Kun had expected this. His voice is controlled and unsurprised, but within his eyes you can see a bottomless, yawning despair.

“It’s my fault he died!” Sungchan exclaims, “Please commander, I deserve to die as well!”

“I as well!” Jeno adds, “I begged you to let me fight for his freedom, but I– I wasn’t successful! I’m a failure!”

“You idiots! Look around you,” Kun frowns, “There’s no goodman way we have a single Hwarang left to spare! If you’re so prepared for death, then don’t give me your cheap words. Prove yourselves on the battlefield!”

The two fall silent after a quick, “Yes sir.”

Later that night, both Taeyong and Jaemin come to visit Kun.

As members of the Fury Corp, they had been resting when you’d arrived earlier in the day.

“Your arrival has the men in something of an uproar,” Taeyong muses, “It woke me somewhat earlier than usual.”

“I heard you got hurt pretty bad, Commander. Didn’t think we’d see you again so soon,” Jaemin says, almost scanning for wounds on the elder.

“Well, I couldn’t just sit on my ass once I heard there were battles happening all over the place,” Kun says, sounding calm and relaxed. You know that isn’t how he’s feeling on the inside though. If you have been feeling depressed since learning of Taeil’s passing, you cannot begin to comprehend how he must be feeling.

“We should be on our way then, our work begins at night, after all,” Taeyong notes and begins to head for the door. Jaemin nods and heads after him before Kun speaks up.

“Jaemin, do you think you can tell Yuta to come by?”

“Huh?” Jaemin looks back, “Uh, sure… I’ll go and get him now.” Before he leaves he says one more thing to Kun, “I know you only just got here. But you should really rest tonight.”

With both of them gone, the room falls into an awkward silence. Kun hasn’t told you to leave, but it seems unlikely that he’ll start talking to you either. Just as you’re about to break the quiet, Yuta opens the door and steps inside.

“I heard you had business with me. Can I help you?”

Without even waiting for him to settle in, Kun says, “From now on, I’ll be commanding from the front line.”

A strangled gulp treks down your throat as he says this out of almost nowhere. If he were to fight on the front line, the violence would be intense and he still hadn’t fully healed.

“Do you intend to die in battle?” Yuta asks simply.

“No,” Kun shakes his head, “I won’t go out that easily. You’ve been out there. Only right for me to take that burden off you, right?”

His presence would raise morale among the men but if he died, the Hwarang dies with him.

“You raise an excellent point, sir. If you mean to take my place, however,” the air grows thick as Yuta’s hand falls to his sword, “I must ask you to defeat me first. If you cannot best me, then only death awaits you on the front lines.”

“Getting a little full of yourself without me, huh?” Kun’s lips turn upward into a grin as his sword slides from its scabbard.

“You shouldn’t be doing this!” You cry out as Yuta’s blade is also released, the blade glinting in the glow of the lanterns.

“Stay out of this!” Kun says and locks eyes with Yuta. Seconds linger as they remain unmoving, just then they leap towards one another, swords struggling against one another. After a bit, Kun is thrown backwards to sprawl across the floorboards.

“What?!” He looks surprised. Even only partially healed, he still has far greater strength than a human, and he isn’t the type to go easy on a friend.

“This war is not so easy that you might rush to the front line without your full strength,” Yuta says and as you look back at him your eyes grow wide.

“Yuta…” With his now reddened eyes and white hair, there’s no doubt that he’s a Fury. “You drank the pimul?”

“Don’t worry about me, I made my own decision.” The simple fact that he’s decided this path says more about the battles he’s been fighting than words ever can. Yuta looks to Kun, who’s rising to his feet, “I understand why you wish to fight, that is why I cannot allow you to.” He straightens himself and sheaths his sword, his hair returning to normal. “Perhaps you might be able to forget your pain in the midst of battle, but I cannot afford to let you do that. You cannot be permitted to turn a blind eye to our problems.”

Kun slowly puts his sword away, “Because I’m the Chief now?”

“Because you’re the only one who can unify the Hwarang.” After hearing that, Kun sighs, only allowing Yuta to continue. “Leave the front line to us. You, Kun, should remain here and plan our strategies.”

“Fine. The front line’s yours until my wounds heal.”

An honest, “Thank you” leaves Yuta, and then he turns to you. “I’m leaving him in your care. Don’t let him out of your sight until he’s healthy again.”

You nod and give him what you hope to be a reassuring smile. He inclines his head to you, turns to Kun to give a short bow, then leaves. As soon as the door closes, Kun’s face darkens and his brows draw together.

“Damn it… He’s gotten to the point where he doesn’t trust me and thinks I need you as a babysitter.”

“He’s just worried about you, that’s all,” you try to justify Yuta’s actions.

Kun gives a bitter laugh, then stops suddenly. He gulps out a noise and clutches his stomach in pain, his body and hands shaking as his hair and eyes begin to change color. With the bloodlust taking hold, he begins to groan out in pain.

“This way,” you quickly take his arm and lead him to a room off of the main hall. In the open, anyone is privy to catch him.

As he settles in the room, you set out towards him, and he has a look in his eyes as if he already knows what your next move is. You tug at your collar, loosening it like you’d done before. He leans toward you and you feel a sharp prick on your neck, you stay as still as you can as he bites down onto you. His hot breath panting along your neck, drinking slowly as he begins to calm.

Eventually, he pulls back. There’s pain on his face but not from the bloodlust.

“This can’t go on forever…” His face turns upward into a half sour smile, “You. Me. This war. Everything…”

“Kun?” His eyes are distant and he doesn’t seem to hear you. You can’t describe it but something feels strange, wrong, even.

September 6th, 666 – Koksan, Kingdom of Silla By the time Kun’s injuries heal, it’s early autumn. Battles still rage along the fronts, and Silla inches nearer and nearer towards its goal. Kun hasn’t received any orders of late, but you feel that that’s about to change when you hear Shotaro storming down the hallway.

You’re settled in the main room with Kun, Taeyong, Jaemin, Jeno and Sungchan when the doors burst open, Shotaro shouting, “I have news from Wen Junhui! He says were to launch an offensive against Pyongyang.”

“Pyongyang? That’s the capital….” Jeno says seriously, glancing towards Kun.

In other words, this may be the push to finally close in on Goguryeo.

“What now then?” Sungchan looks to Kun as well.

“We’ll need to get there as soon as possible. No doubt Junhui has some elaborate plan to route out their forces.” You haven’t seen Kun this excited in a while, and the others in the room pick up on his energy.

“Our ships have already been sent to Ongjin, they will be able to converge on Pyongyang once the situation up north has settled.”

“Then I should go to Ongjin first,” Taeyong says, “We should establish a stronghold for when the main body of men arrives.”

“Isn’t it a bit dangerous to have our representative be someone from the Fury Corps?” You postulate to the group.

“My father’s family is from Ongjin, you know.” Taeyong says quietly, “I have a few connections there. I feel I am most suited to lead the advance guard. There’s… Something else that’s been bothering me as well.”

“Bothering you?” You question but all he does in response is nod and smile.

“Taeyong… you’re supposed to be dead, aren’t you?” Jaemin interrupts, “Seems like that might be an issue.”

“A minor detail,” he waves it off, “easily dealt with.”

“In that case, he’s probably the best choice,” Shotaro murmurs.

“No,” Kun disagrees, “The Fury Corps isn’t cut out for that. You still can’t stand up during the day.”

“It’s difficult, certainly, but not impossible.” Taeyong argues, “I don’t see any reason to just follow behind the rest of the army, and I’d be glad to push myself for this.”

You don’t doubt his ability to do that, but you do question the validity of his motives.

“There’s… a bit more to his message,” Shotaro says after Kun and Taeyong have been staring at each other for a moment. “Junhui will be leading his men to Tagok Pass in hopes of stalling the Goguryeo reinforcements. I believe he means to buy time so that our allies can sack the city without interference. But…”

“The pass is on the front line right now,” Jaemin drums his fingers along the hilt of his sword. “I understand what he’s trying to do, but I don’t think it’s going to be as easy as he thinks it’ll be.”

“That’s a good point,” Jeno sighs, “The enemy’s getting desperate, and we don’t know what else they’ve got up their sleeves.”

“If we want Junhui to come back alive, we need to send some reinforcements to go along with him,” Kun ascertains.

“I disagree.” Taeyong frowns. “If we are to win in Pyongyang, we must arrive there at full strength.”

“Are you saying we should abandon Junhui then?” Yuta asks.

“Well, if both of our forces are wiped out by Goguryeo, there is hardly any point at all.”

The men all shoot glances at one another, formulating their own thoughts and responses before Yuta speaks once more, “I will remain with Wen. Without their aid in previous battles none of us would be here. I will go to Tagok Pass. Kun, please take the rest of the men to Ongjin.”

“Yuta, you–” Kun’s eyes grow wide.

“Then I’ll go and prepare to depart.” Before giving Kun a chance to respond, Taeyong stands quickly and leaves the room.

Jaemin doesn’t seem particularly happy about the way things have gone either, and after a moment of furious thought, he stands as well, “I guess I’ll go with him. Don’t really want to let him out of my sight, you know.”

“Yeah,” Kun nods, “That’s probably smart.”

“Be careful, Jaemin,” you say as he walks past you. He gives you a small smile and a wink, then dashes out the door after Taeyong.

“Osaki,” Kun looks at the man still at the door, “I need you to go and tell Junhui what we’ve decided.”

“Understood,” Shotaro says quickly, “I’ll be off as soon as I can.”

Once he leaves, Yuta turns to Kun. Whether or not he was waiting for the room to be cleared, you’re unsure.

“Please survive. No matter what happens.”

“What’s the matter?” His brow furrows as he looks to the other, “That came from nowhere.”

“In the Hwarang, you and Taeil upheld the path of a true warrior.” Even when slanted by their own kingdom, they had never compromised what they stand for. “Our standard of truth is a banner for everyone who fights. We lead the way.”

Yuta and Kun look at one another silently, before Yuta continues. “As the man who made the Hwarang into what it has become, it must be your duty to carry that standard. Every Hwarang before you and after is relying on that.”

“You make it sound so easy.” Kun replies with his thin lipped grin. “I’ll promise you this though, I’ll stick around until the Hwarang’s dead, or I am.”

“Thank you, Chief.” Yuta smiles, eventually turning to you, “I leave Kun in your care.”

The words are few but hold great emotion behind them, “We’ll be fine. I’m sure of it… After all, I don’t think he could die even if someone killed him. I’ve seen him on the verge of death many times, but he always pulls through. So,” your jaw locks and you look directly into Yuta’s eyes, “Please don’t die, Yuta.”

The battle at Tagok Pass is sure to be an intense one. Many lives, you’re sure, are going to be lost.

“I won’t die even if I get killed?” Kun’s eyebrow piques, “That’s quite a statement. If you’ve got time to worry about me, maybe you oughta be worrying about yourself too, Yuta.” He’d said it as a joke but there’s no mistaking his underlying sincerity.

“I won’t die easily either. After all, I will be fighting in the name of the Hwarang.” Yuta says calmly and then addresses you, “Thank you for your kind gesture.”

And so, you accompany Kun to Ongjin. He’s still gravely concerned about Yuta, thus he’d ordered Shotaro to remain alongside him at Tagok Pass. LEaving them both turns out to be much more difficult than you’d imagined. All you can do is pray that they survive, and that you will meet again someday.

December 1st, 666 – Ongjin, Kingdom of Silla As winter takes hold, the cold wind blows down on the main body of the Hwarang as they arrive in Ongjin. The trip had been impeded by several small snowstorms, but now upon your arrival a new problem is encountered: Taeyong and the Fury Corps were nowhere to be found. Jaemin, too, had been unheard from.

From the townspeople in Ongjin, you hear disturbing rumors that murder has been on the rise in recent weeks.

Upon reaching the regional minister’s house, you’re met with a man who splits a grin as soon as he sees Kun. “Long time no see, Qian. How are you?”

“I’m glad to see you’re doing well, Xu.”

Later on, you learn that this man is Xu Minghao, the Tang navy’s second-in-command. When the Yamoto forces had fired upon Sabi some years earlier, Minghao had been in command of the Tang ships that aided the Silla forces on land. While Kun hadn’t been at the battle, he was able to speak with and befriend the man when he visited Seorabeol some weeks later.

“Have you already heard about Taeil?” Minghao frowns,as Kun nods. “I apologize for having been unable to help. Your kingdom has truly lost a great man.”

“He would’ve been happy to hear you say that,” Kun says with a bitter smile, “But he wouldn’t want us to stand around crying about him. He’d want us to get to work. Can you give me a rundown of what we’re working with?”

“Unfortunately I don’t have the greatest news,” Minghao says, “While we’ve secured the city, there is something… wrong occurring. I have requested a meeting with the newly implemented officials but I haven’t received any form of response. To top it off, there’s a suspicious group of men running around Ongjin. Well, there are rumors, at least.”

“Suspicious how?”

“Well murders have increased, and a few rumors report the assailiants running back to the minister’s home.”

Suspicious men running around, possibly murdering civilians… Taeyong and the Fury Corps unreachable… It isn’t hard to put two and two together.

Kun and you lock eyes, no doubt thinking the same thing.

“If this continues we may become sidetracked here from our main goal,” Minghao states, “Perhaps if we could arrest these murders and restore peace in this area…”

“Minghao, think you could leave the murders to me?” The other man opens his mouth to protest, but something in Kun’s gaze makes him change his mind and he nods.

“Alright, I’ll leave this one to you. No more questions from me.”

Once Minghao returns to his men, you turn to Kun, “Do you think it’s Taeyong…?”

“Can’t say,” Kun sighs out breathily, “You heard the same things I did. No way to know for sure but if it is… I’ll have to kill him.”

“Kun…”

“He got pretty freaked out when he heard about where a Fury's power comes from. Might be he’s pretty depressed right now. Maybe crazy.” He shakes his head and looks to the minister’s house, “Strange things are afoot in Ongjin. We can’t be careless.”

December 2nd, 666 - Ongjin, Kingdom of Silla The next day, Kun begins his investigation. Despite your attempts to convince him that he still needs rest, not the stress of a murder investigation, he presses on. And so, that is how you find yourself lounging around the rooms the Hwarang are occupying while Kun goes off on rounds with the rest of the men.

You’re engrossed in reading over some medical papers Namekawa had left you with when you receive an unexpected visitor.

“Where were you this whole time?!” The papers drop from your grasp as Na Jaemin steps into the room, “We couldn’t contact you, we were all so worried…”

“Do you know where Kun is?” He doesn’t answer your question, but rather jumps straight to the chase.

“He’s off doing rounds at the minister’s estate…”

“Ah,” Jaemin looks a bit crestfallen, “Can you give him a message for me? I can tell you everything since we got here. Just make sure you pass it on to him.”

You gulp, waiting for him to open up. “The minister isn’t being cooperative. Chances are they're being pressured by the enemy somehow. At least that's what Taeyong thinks. So, we looked around a little more and while we were doing that we found out that Heo is actually here.”

“What?!” You cry out at the unexpected revelation. Your father had been forced to do research on the Furies by the revivalists before the war broke out, or at least that's what you thought.

“Yeah… and… he seems to be leading a unit of Furies for the Goguryeo forces.” Jaemin frowns, “Well we figured we could just let that slide so we started watching their Furies, you know, where they go and stuff and well… I saw Taeyong meeting with Heo.”

Jaemin explains that Taeyong told him they'd be more likely to get spotted if they moved together and went off on his own. This is pretty peculiar on its own but sometime after they split up Jaemin witnessed Taeyong meeting with your father.

“I don’t know anymore… I don’t know what Taeyong is thinking.”

“It doesn’t mean that Taeyong is connected with Goguryeo, does it?” Your brow furrows.

“If that were the case then there wouldn't be a need for him to lie to me though, right?” Jaemin says frustratedly, “Doesn't act like he's got any plans to contact the rest of the Hwarang. I just didn't know what to do…”

You’re not sure what else to say and just before you open your mouth you hear a commotion happening at the entrance of the building. The door to your room is kicked open and several strange men suddenly leap inside.

“Who the hell are they–?! Shit!” Jaemin shouts as they unsheathe their swords and lunge after him. He dodges the attack easily drawing his own sword as he moves. He strikes out at one of the men before he has a chance to recover. The man laughs and the spot where Jaemin had struck him is beginning to heal immediately. Suddenly, the man's eyes begin to grow a deep crimson you understand what you're up against.

“Furies…!”

“Get behind me!” Jaemin reaches out and grabs your wrist, pulling you backwards.

“Now, there’s no need for that,” a new voice says from the entrance. You feel your eyelids footer incredulously after hearing a man's voice. It's familiar… nostalgically so.

“Father?!” You’re frozen in place as Jaemin continues to fight the Furies.

“What the hell!? Who are these guys! It's broad daylight! How are they moving swiftly?!”Although he's Clearly they're superior regards to swordsmanship, he's outnumbered and the daylight had weakened him. He's slow and his strikes are unsure.

Your father maintains his cool composure, and he mutters under his breath as he observes the events, “Aren't they wonderful? Furies no longer restrained by the cycles of day and night.”

“You…” You stare at him, mouth agape, “You did this?”

“Of course, my child. I am unsure if the news has reached you yet but I was captured by the Goguryeo Army, and in this captivity I continued to research the pimul.”

“Father– you need to stop them!” You look to your friend fighting, “At this rate he’ll–”

Heo Jinsang’s eyes widen as if he’s only just remembered and he looks over to Jaemin with a smile. “Ah, yes. I don’t know how to thank you. Without you, it would have taken much longer to find my daughter.”

“You followed me?!” Jaemin spits through grit teeth.

Ignoring him, your father looks back to you and speaks with a soft voice, “I’ve come to get you. At last, we’ll be able to restore our clan.”

“Clan…? You mean the Heo family?”

“With these superior Furies, restoring the glory of our clan will be child’s play.” Heo laughs, “Once the kingdoms bear witness to the potential of these breakthroughs, they cannot ignore us! We can even wipe out the Demon clans who rejected our plea for help, avenging our kin!”

“You’re planning on using Furies to restore the Heo lineage to power?”

“Yes, I am. Everything I have done was for you.” His voice evokes the same tone he had used to speak to you when you were a child. You shake your head to combat it and his eyes narrow. With a few swift footfalls, he closes in, “You’ve been with the Hwarang for too long. They’ve corrupted you.”

No… It isn’t you who’s changed, it’s your father.

“Goddamn it! Get off me you bastards!” Despite being out of breath, Jaemin manages to swipe at the Furies with his sword, giving himself space. However, no matter the amount of wounds he’s able to inflict on them, they heal immediately.

“Father…”

“If we just sit down and talk this through, I’m sure you’d understand.” Your father’s face lies in a stony demeanor.

“I–!” Before you can say anything else, he drives his fist into your stomach. Stars leap before your eyes, the world grows dark and you slip into unconsciousness.

When you awake, you’re in an unfamiliar room.

“Where…” Your hands gripping your head as you sit up, “Where am I?”

“You’re at the minister’s estate.” A voice says before you and you widen your eyes.

“Taeyong?!” You cry out before noticing the figure next to him. Beside him stands your father.

“What’s going on here?” You say as you scramble to your feet. “Why are you two together?!”

“I met with Heo secretly here in Ongjin, and we’ve agreed to work together in order to do Fury research.” Taeyong explains, resting his arm on the hilt of his sword.

“Then… You’re working with Goguryeo? You’ve betrayed Silla… Betrayed the Hwarang…”

“Is that what you think?” Taeyong raises an eyebrow, “Interesting…” Explaining himself had never been one of Taeyong’s strong points.

“How are you feeling, my child?” Heo asks sympathetically, “I apologize for the rough treatment. I hope you aren’t too hurt.” His tone is intimate and caring, you feel yourself wavering towards the father you used to know.

“I suggest you make no attempts to escape…” Taeyong says calmly but with more intimidation than you’d seen from him before, “We could make that difficult. In any event, it was reckless of you to bring her here, Heo.” He glances at you before continuing, “Kun is no fool. Her disappearance will surely mean that he will be onto our plans. I expect him at any moment.”

“You told me that if I wanted to know where my daughter was, I just had to follow Na to the Hwarang.”

“Yes. I did.” Taeyong’s lips curve into a frown, “But I never suggested to kidnap her. Alas, what’s done is done. No point arguing about it. We need to be thinking about what this could mean, and plan for it.”

“I’m sure the Furies I left to deal with Na will return to the estate soon, you needn’t worry about the future.” Heo shrugs.

“What did you do to Jaemin?” Your voice nearly breaks.

“I doubt he survived. After all, I did bring quite a few of them.”

Your whole body shakes. You want wholeheartedly to not believe it, but the Furies that your father had brought were unlike any you’d ever seen before. Jaemin had already looked pale and weak even before he’d started fighting…

“You just have to assume I’m dead?” A voice says from the open doorway, “C’mon, that hurts my feelings…” He’s leaning against the frame and someone brushes past him, glaring at Taeyong and your father.

“You alright?” Kun asks as he looks at you.

“I am!” You nod vigorously and he lets out a snort of laughter.

“How did you find us?!” Heo asks incredulously, “I’ve made so many improvements on my Furies. How could you have destroyed them all?”

“Improvements? If you say so, but if you want to take out the Hwarang, you’ll need about ten times what you sent.” Kun smirks.

“I figured you’d be here soon,” Taeyong murmurs, “You didn’t bring any of the men, though… Well, I suspected you wouldn’t. Still, doesn’t it seem rather reckless for the two of you to charge headfirst into unknown enemy territory?”

“Explain.” Kun’s eyes narrow at Taeyong, “Why didn’t you contact us?”

“There’s nothing for you in Ongjin.” Taeyong says simply.

“I was given orders by Yeon Gaesomun to come here. They told me to take my Furies and kill the traitors who reside here. However, I found such a plan unagreeable when so many test subjects reside here…” Heo sighs out.

“We found common ground in our distaste for Goguryeo,” Taeyong explains, “and thusly decided to seize Ongjin for ourselves.”

“So you’re not fighting with our enemy…?” You struggle to piece together everything.

“I’m on your side, child. I have no intention of taking part in mankind’s disputes.” Your father says as he crosses his arms, “Let us bring retribution to the humans who destroyed our clan and the Demons who betrayed us. It is in our destiny to forge a new Demon kingdom with our own hands– no, we will be the only Demon clan!”

You recall Sooyoung explaining how the Heo village had been destroyed by humans. Even then, you can’t get yourself to agree with your father.

Just then, the sound of footsteps loudly resound out from the hallway. Furies pour into the room as Taeyong smiles, “Ah, they seem to have noticed our intruders.”

“Hey–!” Kun’s eyes widen as he notices their faces, “They’re the Hwarang’s–!”

“Not only does this castle hold the remnants of Goguryeo’s Fury army, but also of the Hwarang’s Fury Corps.” Taeyong crosses his arms, “All of the Furies that exist in both Kingdoms are gathered here.”

Red eyes surround Jaemin, Kun and you. No humanity resides in their gazes.

“Please give us your help,” Your father calls out to you, “We need you to lead us. You must command the Furies and restore the Heo clan.”

But you don’t care about restoring the clan. You don’t want to create more Furies so that blood can drive them mad. You don’t want to see more suffering.

“Father… you’re wrong.” Heo’s eyes go wide when you speak. “Building a kingdom on the corpses of others isn’t right! I can’t agree to it!”

Human or Demon, every life is precious. Just because your home village was destroyed doesn’t mean you can oppress humans.

“I believe Heo was saying that he’d be willing to assist the Hwarang.” Taeyong interjects, looking at Kun. “What do you think, Qian? Would you like to lead this army of Furies against Goguryeo?”

“You know the answer.” With Kun having been against Furies from the very beginning, you doubt he’s changed his mind about them.

“So I suppose that ends our negotiation.” Taeyong sighs, slowly drawing his sword from its scabbard. “Very well…”

You stiffen, yet Kun doesn’t move towards his own blade. He remains still, cooly contemplating Taeyong. Almost as if someone’s dumping white ink on it, Taeyong’s hair slowly changes to white and he raises his sword.

Instead of swiping at Kun though, he cuts down a Fury standing nearby him.

“All a Fury exists for is battle, and now we’ve taken that away from them…” Taeyong shakes his head with a sigh, “The least I can do for them is let them die here, in battle.”

The room falls silent. Then it explodes in noise– the enraged cries of the Furies and the rattle of swords being drawn.

“Jaemin–” Kun says quickly.

“I know!” The younger shouts and drops into a fighting stance, slipping his hand around the hilt of his sword. A grin splits on his lips as his hair turns white, “Taeyong, this is way too badass for an old guy like you! Why didn’t you tell us?!”

“Well,” Taeyong chuckles, “as they say, to fool your enemies, you must first fool your friends.” Their swords whistle and spark through the air, Fury after Fury falling before them. “Besides, doesn’t the hero’s right-hand man make the best villain?”

Kun responds with a bark of wry laughter and draws his own sword in a flash of silver light as his hair turns white as well. The men get into their stances and face the Furies as Furies themselves.

“The hell are you talking about?” Kun says with a grin, “Still means the hero gets stuck cleaning up the damn mess.”

As their three swords spin and hiss through the air, blood gushes and spatters, painting the walls of the estate a deep red. Wave after wave conquered, they drown their foes in a sea of blood. You notice that your mouth has gone dry, your hands beginning to shake. In the corner, you spot your father sitting down.

“Everything you told me was a lie?” Heo asks Taeyong. “You said you wanted to do more research on the Furies in the kingdom of Demons… Why?”

“I saw the end.” Taeyong answers, “I was trying to discover a way for Furies to live past their… limits. Our short lifespans made me impatient. To continue my research I even dirtied my hands.” Every suspicious thing he had done had been in the service of a single goal: saving his fellow Furies. “We have no future as Furies. You know this as well as I do, Heo.”

“No matter how resistant you make them to sunlight, they will push themselves too hard, and their lifespans will shrink and the bloodlust will drive them mad.” Taeyong confirms the truth you’d all suspected: there is no way to save the Furies. “We are a mistake: a failed experiment. Furies are not something that should exist in this world. Let’s end this.”

Taeyong’s true intentions leave you surprised, as does his admission that the Furies are a failure. Is he right? Can they not be saved? Has all hope been lost? You let your mind drift for a moment, and then you see a shadow move in the corner of your eye– A Fury only feet from you, his eyes red and mad with bloodlust. You reach for your sword but it’s too late.

Before your hand even touches the hilt, you see the Fury’s blade sweeping toward you. Blood splashes down onto the floor before you, but it isn’t yours. A figure standing before you had taken the blow in your stead.

“Father?!”

The Fury pulls back for another swing but then it freezes, gurgles oddly and slides neatly in half, a blade glistening in the center.

“Turn your back on us in a fight, will you?” Kun spits as he looks down to the halved Fury, “Idiot.” He shifts his eyes up to your father’s wound, and you see his face twitch. Immediately, he moves closer and turns his back to the two of you, sword held at the ready.

“Are you… alright? Are you hurt anywhere?” Your father asks as he turns to look at you. There’s blood splattered all over his chest. The wound, now that you can see it, is undoubtedly a fatal one.

“Yes, yes. I’m fine. I’m not hurt at all,” you say quickly. His hand reaches out and grasps your shoulder, he falls to his knees and you follow after him. Quickly you lay him on his back, clutching at his hand.

“Our research was a… failure. I knew there was no future for the Furies…” He murmurs out as tears begin to well in your eyes, “But I couldn’t give it up… I wanted to bring back your clan, your family.” Ever since you were young he’d always tried to do what was best for you. “It seems my fate is to die with the Furies… I have committed terrible sins. This is for the best, please, don’t cry.”

You nod your head knowing that if you’re to open your mouth the tears would never stop. He gives you one last smile, sighs a calm breath and is gone.

After what seems like an eternity, you look up. The battle is over. The Furies that came to fruition by the Hwarang and your father lie dead, scattered around the room.

“Kind of a waste, isn’t it?” Taeyong says as he looks at the bodies, “That many Furies could have been awfully useful… The Hwarang could have used these men.”

“You don’t win battles by thinking you’ll lose them.” Kun says.

“Well, you don’t win by thinking you’ll win either,” Jaemin snorts with laughter, then coughs to cover it up.

It’s true, the Hwarang had lost a lot of Furies but their unity had grown stronger.

“Ack–!” A sudden burst of pain wipes the grin from Jaemin’s face. Taeyong, too, has doubled over in agony. Their hair which had returned to normal goes back to stark white.

“Looks like we’ve reached our limit,” Taeyong says through grit teeth.

Dejun’s words suddenly flash to you. The Fury’s power isn’t a gift from the gods. You’re only borrowing life that you would spend decades on.

Jaemin sees your eyes go wide and gives you an awkward sort of laugh, “We were some of the first Furies.” They’d been in more battles as Furies than anyone else, and all of the strength and healing they’d enjoyed ate away at their futures until there was nothing left.

“Did you know…?” The question leaves Kun as a whisper.

Taeyong smiles and then gives a slow nod, “What warrior doesn’t know his own body?” His legs suddenly shake violently and he falls to the floor, Jaemin soon following.

Kun drops to his knees and takes both of their hands in his own.

“Kun… Do you remember?” Taeyong remineces weakly, “Back when we were at Moon Hall, we would spend all night talking.”

“Yeah,” Kun nods, “We would say that Taeil would never be content with being just the heir of a small school. We promised to do what we could for him…”

“Who would’ve thought he would leave this world before us?” Taeyong frowns and his voice grows quiet, “I know we haven’t always seen eye to eye, but without you, we couldn’t have built up the Hwarang.”

“Same goes for you too…” Kun says with a small smile, “You were the one that always calmed me down whenever I’d start a fight with Yixing.” He’s doing his best to act tough so that Jaemin and Taeyong won’t worry.

“Looks like we’re taking the lead this time… Don’t be in too much of a hurry to catch up though, alright?” Jaemin adds in a bright and kind tone, “I mean, you barely had any time to rest since you joined the Hwarang.”

Kun just nods.

“I’m having a hard time buying that ‘yes’. You’re a little too short-tempered to keep a promise like that…”

“Shut it, you little brat. You really think I’m gonna take that crap from you?”

Jaemin’s face relaxes as Kun snarls back at him. Even in this moment, Jamein’s tender and kind for the benefit of his Chief.

“You must go south.” Taeyong suddenly says. “Heo said he used water from Tamna when he was refining the pimul.”

Your eyes widen– perhaps there still is hope. Maybe, just maybe, there’s a chance something south can repair the curse of the Fury to these men. Taeyong’s last words are the fait muster of hope for the fate of the Furies.

“Kun… Don’t… don’t lose sight of what matters, alright? Being reckless doesn’t work out so well.” Jaemin’s voice has grown rough and raspy. Kun’s knuckles whiten as they tighten around his comerade’s hands. But with a sound like sand pouring over a stone, their hands crumble into ash. In moments, they are no more.

“Kun…” You call out but he doesn’t answer. He only stares, silent, at the twin piles of ash that sit where his friends were only moments before. There aren’t any tears in his eyes, but even so he’s somehow crying.

You’re not sure how long you sit there before he stands up. The room that includes only you two is devastatingly quiet.

“Let’s go.” He says quietly, his voice curt and clipped. Yet, when he turns to you, his eyes suddenly go wide. “Hey, no crying.”

You nod, trying to stop, but it’s no good. The tears don’t pause, regardless of how much you wipe them away. In one day– an hour– you’ve been forced to say goodbye to Jaemin, to Taeyong… and the father you haven’t seen in over a year.

December 17th, 666 – Ongjin, Kingdom of Silla The events of the magistrate’s house resonate with you for a while, and after some time has passed you find yourself alone again, standing in front of the estate. Wisps of snowflakes fall around you, wind hitting your cheeks and chapping your lips.

“They sure took their sweet-ass time,” Kun quips as he exits the front gates of the building. His worn expression indicates a worried tiredness.

“Hello,” you greet him, “How was the meeting?”

“How? Hmph.” He shakes his head, “Those idiots north of Pyongyang don’t like any of the plans we’ve proposed, even with Junhui and I poking around as often as we are. Apparently with the incident here and continuing at Tagok, Munmu doesn’t trust us yet to act. That’s the bullshit they relayed! Can you believe that?”

Kun paces the front gate, arms crossed and breath puffing in the air, “They act all high and mighty on their capital in the north, but pussy out when it’s time for the final push. It’s pathetic, Munmu hasn’t done shit and is relying on the Tang for everything.” He frowns, “Whatever. Let’s head back to the inn, the sun’s really beating down today.”

“Okay…” A cloud of frustration seems to follow you as you return to the inn, most notably in Kun. “We’ll be there soon enough, hang in there.” His skin looks pale and watching him in silent agony makes your heart ache.

“Don’t worry about me,” he sighs, “How about you? Are you holding up alright?”

“I’m… fine. I mean, I’m pretty resilient.”

“How can you say that?” He lets out a dry laugh, “You stay up all night just to tend to me…”

“I’m tough.” You smile back, “When you finally fall asleep, it gives me the peace of mind so that I can rest easily too.”

Kun’s lips curl and he doesn’t seem satisfied with your answer. Instead, he just stares at you. He turns his head gradually to the hues of red and orange covering the winter sky in the distance. You follow his lead and look towards the horizon.

“Huh…?” Your vision suddenly blurs.

“Hey, what’s the matter?” Kun’s right next to you, but yet his voice sounds so distant.

Before you know it, your body collapses to the ground.

“Hey!” Kun shouts out, “You alright?! Hang in there!”

When you regain consciousness, you discover yourself tucked snugly in bed.

“About time you woke up,” Kun says as you look around the room. “Do you know where you are right now?”

“Ah! Kun…” Once you realize that it’s him, you snap out of your daze. “I’m sorry, I–”

“You idiot!” He shouts, causing you to jump. “If you weren’t feeling well, you shouldn’t have gone outside. You should’ve rested!”

“I’m sorry…” It feels as if a stone has dropped into the pit of your stomach as he scolds you, and you can only look down at your hands.

“Uhm, well… I guess I shouldn’t be too hard on you,” Kun sighs. “You’ve barely had any chance to rest, especially after what happened with your father’s passing… I can’t really be surprised that you would push yourself to act like everything’s normal.”

But he’s lost people too, and if you’re suppressing how you’ve been feeling you can’t imagine the turmoil happening within him,

“Until further notice, you don’t have to join me when I meet with members of the war council. You’re going to stay here to rest.”

“What?” You shake your head, “No, I’m fine. Today was just a lot to handle. So, please… I’ll be careful. I won’t let this become a problem again in the future.”

“Why? Because Taeil, Minhyung and Jisung asked you to watch after me or something?” His head tilts, “None of the men who died for us would have wanted you to look after me at the expense of your own health.”

He does have a point. But that isn’t the only reason you’re still here.

“I… I want to be by your side, Kun.”

“Yeah?” His brow furrows, “Why’s that?”

“What do you mean ‘why’?” I, um…” You can’t continue. Of course, you know the true answer but to admit that is a bit too much. There’s no way you can tell him your feelings. Suddenly, the hairs on the back of your neck stand on end.

“Well, fine. Whatever,” he waves it off, flashing his usual sense of detachment, muttering to himself, “If you don’t want to tell me, I don’t care.” Caught up in his own thoughts, he mutters something shortly, “You were close with Namekawa, right?”

“I wasn’t close with him… My father was, though.” You admit, “However, he did watch after me frequently.”

“I see. He’s a good man, but I just can’t seem to put my full trust in him.”

“Okay…?” You can’t quite grasp the point Kun is trying to make.

“If anything happens while we’re out here, I want you to find him and stay with him.” Kun states, “Even if Goguryeo catches you, they won’t touch you as long as you’re with him.”

“What? Why would they–”

“Look. When you’re at war, you can’t just prepare for victory. Gotta consider your defeat as well.” Kun crosses his arms, “I’m sure Doctor Namekawa will show up here any day, so when that happens…” He falls silent. After a while, he shakes his head tenderly, “Nothing. Forget it. I’m just rambling.”

In the empty space of your conversation, you try to sift through what Kun’s trying to say. All you can do is pray that this brief, peaceful reprieve will prolong itself for a bit longer.

December 21th, 666 – Ongjin, Kingdom of Silla In the following days Minghao and Kun make another trip to the war council stationed in the minister’s home. Although they hope their audience with the officials will be fruitful, it turns out to be less than eventful.

“Yeah,” Minghao sighs, “It’s no use. The water’s going to be frozen over soon enough, I get that. But waiting until it thaws in the spring…”

“It’s idiotic,” Kun agrees. “Guess we should kick back and relax until then, huh?”

“Even if you’re joking it’s not funny.” Minghao frowns, “We’re only giving them more time to reinforce Pyongyang.”

“Sure,” Kun says, “But it’s not like they’ve got anyone else to come in and save them. They’ll be holed up in the city, waiting for a reprieve. If they’re smart they’d have surrendered by now.”

“Knowing Gaesomun, it’s not like he’ll have a shortage of ideas of how to turn this around. For fuck’s sake he killed their last king to wrest power from him. I suppose we’ll refrain from making any rash decisions until we reunite with Li.”

December 26th, 666 – Ongjin, Kingdom of Silla You find Kun in his apartments when you approach him, “I hear our forces are gathering in the north of the city… Are we leaving?”

“The Hwarang serves two things:” he sighs, “the King and the Kingdom. That hasn’t changed.”

“The Hwarang shows the way, right?” You point out.

“It’s funny, isn’t it? All this time, we had those lords and ministers looking down and judging our actions. Now look at us.” You can almost recall Taeil’s grin as Kun smiles.

“Well, that’s one more reason not to die, then.”

It’s a burden on him, undoubtedly, but Kun has seen many of his friends lay down their lives for the Hwarang and what it represents. Knowing what it had meant to them, he can’t allow himself to die.

“As long as the men believe in what we stand for, I can’t let the Hwarang die.” The doubt you’d seen in him weeks before is gone. He’s accepted his place at the head of the Hwarang. “I have to protect them.”

He looks over to you, his gaze warm, it makes you feel better than you have in a while. Just being next to him is enough to make you feel like everything is right in the world.

December 30th, 666 – Ongjin, Kingdom of Silla A few more days pass and the men you’d left to go to Tagok Pass finally reach Onjin. Unfortunately, bad news comes with their victory over the pass.

“Yuta has fallen in battle,” Shotaro reports, his head bowed, “His last words were ‘Leave the rest to Kun’...”

Ever since this war started, you’re unsure of how many times you’ve seen this expression on a warrior’s face. You bite your lip until it almost bleeds.

Kun puts his hands on Shotaro’s shoulders, giving him some words of encouragement, “I’m sorry I put you through that, Osaki. I’m just glad you made it back alive.”

Shotaro’s eyes grow wide and he looks overcome with emotion, “Th–Thank you sir!”

Jaemin and Taeyong lost their lives in Ongjin, and Yuta at Tagok… This means that Kun is the only Fury left among the Hwarang.

“It’s been hard already, but I’m pretty sure things are going to get worse,” Kun crosses his arms, “You’ve all fought enough, so…”

Shotaro sets his jaw and looks back at Kun, “I’ve given my life to the Hwarang, it just hasn’t been lost yet. We’ll follow you to the end of the world and back, sir.”

“Me too!” Jeno says firmly, “I’ll follow you all the way!”

“Let me accompany you, no matter where it takes us!” Sungchan adds.

“You guys…” Kun’s almost at a loss for words.

“We want to fight as the Hwarang, not as foot soldiers of Silla. We want to fight for the justice we believe in.” Shotaro smiles at him reassuringly.

You’re sure that if Taeil were alive, he’d be crying. The Hwarang united in body and mind. A great happiness wells within you and suddenly you can’t hold it in any longer. Tears spill forth from your eyes.

“... Idiots.” Kun’s face twists into a sneer, but there isn’t any hiding the warmth in his eyes as he looks out over the men. They know the coming battle will not be an easy one, but there is no doubt in their mind: their place is with Kun and the Hwarang.

January 7th, 667 – Ongjin, Kingdom of Silla Ultimately, it is decided that Minghao’s fleet will head to Cholsan while Li’s army will march to Yangdeok. In the cold of winter, you leave Ongjin and head into the surrounding forest.

You’re only a few minutes walk in when Kun stops you, “I can’t take you this time. You stay here.”

“What?” You stop in your tracks, “But why? Where is this coming from?”

“There’s going to be a lot of fighting. You should get away from that. No reason for you to stick with us anymore, right? I know Taeil, Jisung and Minhyung asked you to take care of me. But I’m sure you’ve fulfilled your promise in full. If you were to die in the mess of this war, then I’ll be the one that gets scolded by them in the afterlife.” His voice quiets, “I think it’s time you are released from us.”

“No!” Now that your father’s passed, there isn’t anything to justify staying with the Hwarang but… Your heart yearns to be with Kun.

“Donghyuck’ll probably be coming after me soon, but I can take him. You don’t need to worry about that.”

“That’s not it!” Once again you find yourself almost yelling. “I don’t want to stay just because I think I need to be protected from him!”

He sighs, looking as if he’s dealing with a fussy toddler. “Come on, don’t be like that… I can’t make you happy.”

Your eyes go wide, your voice shaking when you speak, “... I don’t need to be happy. All I want to do is fight alongside the Hwarang. I want to follow the same path you do.” There was never an ulterior motive for staying alongside him. “Please, I’ll do whatever you tell me to.”

“Well, I’m touched that you feel that way, but I want you to be happy. Without being with us.” He isn’t saying this to just make you feel better. You feel the sincerity behind his words. And you’re happy to know he cares, but it pains you just as much.

“These are orders from the Hwarang’s Chief.” He looks you in the eye, his voice flat and cold. “You would impede the function of the Hwarang, and therefore will not accompany us to Pyongyang.

The air is sucked from your lungs and your heart skips a beat. You feel the blood drain from your face and your hands begin to tremble.

“You’re a woman, and you deserve to have your own life. I can’t let us tie you down anymore.”

Hearing that, all of the power in your body leaves you, and you fall to your knees in the snow underfoot, “Kun… Please wait…” You want so badly to scream this at him, but your voice no longer feels like your own.

“Take care. That is all.” The minute he turns his back on you, you know it isn’t good. It’s clear that he really intends to leave you behind and you can’t even lift a finger to stop him.

He’s getting further and further away, his footsteps crunching in the snow. It was him who you’d been running after since the battle in Seorabeol… A man that, up to now, was working on chipping the distance between you, bit by bit.

“I don’t want this!” You scream out, forcing your voice to be heard. But Kun walks as if he doesn’t hear you. “Qian Kun!” Even calling out his name doesn't make him stop. And eventually, you can’t see his back anymore.

Minutes pass and you remain in a defeated stupor on the ground. It feels as if something inside of you has crumbled. You’ve been chasing after Kun this whole time… but he’s someone who only moves forward. His whole life was lived by keeping his pain sealed away, but never once did he leave you behind. He would always give you the chance to cling onto him.

Now you understand that there aren’t any more chances to gather yourself, or run after him, or any other childish endeavor to bring you closer. He has deemed no further use of you and severed the ties that burden his duty.

“Ah… Excuse me…” A quiet voice speaks up behind you, and you turn to see who it is. “I’m sorry but I heard everything,” Wen Junhui inches toward you, “I apologize for eavesdropping, but there didn’t seem to be a good moment for me to admit I was here.” He coughs awkwardly and hands you a small piece of cloth to wipe your face.

He waits for you to calm down before he begins to speak again, “You want to stay with him, I take it? Then… Will you wait for us? We’re settling down in Yangdeok before our attack on Pyongyang… So, can you wait until then?”

“What do you mean…?”

“Once we’ve settled in, I can send for you. I mean, I can hardly leave you crying here alone!”

“General Wen…” Your mouth hangs open.

“Oh, you don’t need to thank me. Once you get to Yangdeok, I’ll assign you to Qian. It won’t be easy work, but at least you’ll be with him.”

February 14, 667 – Yangdeok, Kingdom of Silla You get your summons right after Yangdeok falls to Junhui’s forces. Yangdeok, to the Silla and Tang armies, has been seen as Goguryeo’s last city to topple before moving forth to Pyongyang to its west.

“It’s good to see you again!” Junhui calls out to you, waving his arms in the air to summon you closer.

“Thank you so much for arranging all of this,” You say as you gather your bags together and walk over to him, “And congratulations on your victory here.”

“My victory is a bit of an exaggeration,” he says, “Qian put in a lot of work too. As soon as we finished deciding on the new council, I sent for you.”

“The new council?”

“Yeah,” he nods enthusiastically, “With the effort going to close in soon, we decided to pull our forces together and combine the northern armies and southern armies to collapse on Pyongyang. Xu Minghao is our general now, he knows enough about the Silla and Tang armies to combine us together.”

You learn that Junhui has been elected the Army Minister, and Kun has been named the Assistant Army Minister.

“You had to wait a while, I understand.” Junhui frowns apologetically, “Was it too long?”

“It could have been shorter,” You say halfway joking and halfway serious.

Still, the fact that they’re this close to pushing inward says something to the end of this war. Despite the losses you’ve accrued, this is a glimmer of hope.

“Ever since we got to Yangdeok, Kun’s been… different.” Junhui notes your confused expression and continues, “He’s nicer to the men, which is good, but he spends too much time locked away in his room. Says he spends most of his time in deep thought and won’t let anyone come by.” He sighs, shaking his head, probably wondering what to do with the man before reaching into his pack and removing a piece of parchment. “I think he needs you,” a smile graces his lips and he hands the paper to you.

“Me?” You question, taking it from him.

“This document officially appoints you to your position. You can get the details after you give it to Kun.”

It takes a while, but you muster up the courage to go into the main hall of where the leaders of the army are staying. Yet, Kun isn’t among them, he’s in his room, alone. After inquiring about where his room is, you find yourself standing before it.

You take in a deep breath and rap your hand against the door several times. After a few silent seconds, a tired voice drifts out, “I’m not attending… This isn’t the time for a party.”

Without saying anything you push open the door. Kun turns toward the door, preparing a half-hearted tirade for whoever had decided to intrude on his solitude. When he sees you, the words freeze in his throat.

“Reporting as ordered, sir.” You say, standing straight, “I have been assigned to serve as Assistant Army Minister Qian Kun’s page… by Army Minister Wen Junhui.”

His mouth works soundlessly for a moment, finally closing with a snap. He stares at you incredulously for several more seconds before frowning, “It’s a mistake. I haven’t been told about this.”

You pull out the letter that Junhui had given you and hand it to him, “I received these orders from him earlier.”

Kun’s hand snatches the letter and he scans the page rapidly, his frown deepening with each line. When he finishes he shoots you a sharp look and thrusts the letter back into your empty hands, “No. Take it back. I don’t approve of these orders.”

“I understand…” You sigh out, looking at the paper now in your grasp before tearing it into pieces.

“What are you doing?” His eyes widen in shock.

“I don’t care if you won’t approve these orders,” you let the pieces fall to the ground, “I shouldn’t have relied on them in the first place.” You hadn’t taken the letter because you wanted to be in Yangdeok, you accepted Junhui’s help and came here because you want to be with Kun. That’s all that matters. “I came here because I wanted to. I want you to let me stay. Here. With you.”

It’s his choice.

“Not fair for me to be the only guy with the luxury of a girl for a page. Especially when I’m sending men off to die.”

“Is… Is that why you left me?”

Kun falls silent and shifts uncomfortably.

“Stop this!” You find yourself yelling, and Kun looks equally surprised. “You always do this! You decide you can’t do something, then you make up all the excuses you need to justify it! You say you’re doing it for my feelings without even knowing my feelings!”

When he’d left you behind, he said that he couldn’t make you happy– that you should go on and live your life. But he is what makes you happy, and you want to live your life with him. Now he’s trying to push you away again so that he can bear this burden alone. You can’t let him do that.

“You take on so much and you won’t let anyone help!” Tears sting at the corners of your eyes as you try and make him see the errors of his ways.

He crosses his arms, “That’s my job. If I can handle it, then it’s my responsibility to!”

“What about the people who have to watch you do this?!” You’d watched him torture himself this way for far too long… Every hardship, every burden, is his and his alone to suffer with. And you haven’t been the only one to witness this. “I can’t let you do this to yourself! I want to be here for you! I want to help you! What else am I supposed to do?!”

With a sigh he falls silent, “I give up.”

You blink, furrowing your brow as you have no idea what he’s referring to.

“Can’t fight a country girl… Better to just listen to them, I guess.” His voice is gentle as he looks up with a wry smile. You then find his arms wrapped around you. As unexpected as it is, you let yourself sink into his embrace. He holds you tightly, almost as if now that he finally has you, he doesn’t want to ever let you go.

“Ever since you left…” He murmurs before pausing, and you can sense him trying to organize his feelings. “I’ve figured some things out,” he squeezes you a bit tighter, “you… supported me. Guess that’s the best way to put it.” As he speaks, he sounds slightly bewildered, as if he can’t believe what he’s saying. “When you’re not here… It’s hard for me to deal with it. All of it. Life, I guess.” With each word, your heart swells warmly in your chest. Each word descends like the snowflakes outside, gently gathering in your heart.

“You saved me,” he whispers and you feel the warmth of his body touching every part of yours. You’re sure there’s tear stains on his uniform from where you’ve been pressing your face into his robes. “... Do you think the Hwarang still stands for what it means to be a true warrior? Have I done what I was supposed to? Have I led us down the right path?”

You nod, “The soul of the Hwarang that our friends believed in is alive in you. In fact, I think it’s stronger now… We’ve been through a lot but it’s brought all of us together.”

His lips curl into a smile, “Hearing you say that makes me happy. The men that the Hwarang have left are true warriors. No more need for the iron fist.”

Everyone in the Hwarang now has the unity of vision that brings the clarity of purpose, hopefully meaning Kun’s burden will lessen a little.

“Well,” you say, “from now on, please don’t try and hide your problems from me. I’m here to help you. You don’t have to do this alone anymore.”

He’s silent now, but his arms stay wrapped around you. You feel his hands grasp at your robes as his voice is barely above a whisper, “Stay with me…”

February 15, 667 – Yangdeok, Kingdom of Silla The next morning, you’re greeted by familiar faces waiting for you in the main hall.

“Long time no see!” Jeno smiles, “We were eagerly awaiting your return for a while now.”

“Jeno, Sungchan…” You smile back at the two.

“How was the dramatic reunion?” Sungchan pushes eagerly.

“What do you mean?” Your eyes widen, unable to answer him with a straight face as his face blushes with color.

“Well, ever since Commander– er Chief– left your side, it looked like he just sank deeper and deeper into depression,” he says quickly, “It just made us realize how much he needs you by his side.”

“And now the two of you can be together as much as you want to be!” Jeno adds.

“Ah,” you feel heat rise to your cheeks, “Yes, well, I’m sure we can.”

“Oh?” You hear footsteps coming from down the hall, “I thought I heard a familiar voice. So, you’re in Yangdeok too…”

“Jungwoo!” Your eyes widen at the familiar face, “You’re safe!”

“Indeed,” he smiles weakly, “Sadly, I was injured in combat against some of the Goguryeo forces.”

“He was appointed as the Infantry Head of the Kyongjong Unit during the last meeting,” Sungchan says quickly.

“Really? That’s fantastic news! Congratulations, Jungwoo.”

“Thank you, but I don’t know how much I’ll be able to accomplish in this state, unfortunately.” You glance down to his bandaged left arm before looking back up to his face. “But for now, I am here, and all I can do is fight until the end beside Kun.”

“Jungwoo…”

“If there’s ever anything you need from me, don’t hesitate to ask. I will always support you and Kun.”

“Of course,” you smile at him, “Thank you.”

February 25th, 667 – Yangdeok, Kingdom of Silla As Kun’s page, you spend every day assisting him in his duties. Since your arrival in Yangdeok, he’s seemed much more at ease during the daylight hours. Your job sees you spending more time around him than you ever had before. He’s actually begun treating you quite nicely.

You feel a little bad that you’re getting spoiled, but whenever you’re around him, your heart pounds.

On one afternoon, some days after you’ve settled in to Yangdeok, Junhui comse to visit Kun in his quarters.

“I’ve made tea,” you say as you set down the tray in front of the two sitting figures.

“Thank you,” Junhui smiles, gingerly picking up one of the cups before him and looking over to Kun, “Your assistant here is quite something. Tell me, where did you find her?”

“Well,” Kun leans back in his seat, “I think some big shot wannabe had her sent over here without my permission. You know anything about that?”

“Oh, I was doing it for your sake, you know. Although, I’m a bit jealous now” he sighs, “A cute, dedicated, efficient page… What man could ask anything more?”

“No, I’m… um….” You say quickly, frantically busying yourself with your tea.

Kun glances at you for a moment, then back at Junhui, his face calm and serene, “I agree… So long as she sticks with me, I don’t think I’ll ever need any other page.”

You nearly drop your tea at his statement. Junhui also looks surprised, but raises his cup to his lips to hide it.

You look for words to say but you can only hear the blood rushing to your head and feel your heart pounding in your chest.

“I, ah, didn’t think I’d hear something like that from you, Qian…” Junhui muses, “I’d want a wife like her too.”

“Well she’s mine.” Kun says simply, “You’ll have to find one of your own because there’s no way I’m letting her go.”

Junhui laughs, “Now you’re just rubbing it in.” You feel your face growing hotter by the second.”Well, with Kun in this sort of mood, I suppose I shouldn’t stay too long, hm?” With one last grin to you, he turns to Kun. “So, back to business… Do you think they’ll be mobilizing?”

“Yeah,” Kun nods, “As soon as the snow melts.”

“Well, if you think so too, then we should prepare to mobilize.” Junhui sighs, “Minghao says it will be a few more weeks before his ships can set out from Ongjin.”

“There’ll be a fight once they reach Pyongyang’s harbor, that’s for sure,” Kun nods, “There’s no way they’d let us take that easily.”

“Of course,” Junhui agrees, “We’ll need to reconvene to see what troops we can send to aid the navy.”

“Huh,” Kun muses, “Gotta admit, before we came here, I never thought you and I would see eye to eye.”

“I know, right?” The other smiles, “I was taken aback by you the first time we met.”

“And I was with you.”

Junhui laughs, “Well, I wasn’t born into a family of warriors…”

“Hey, me neither. My family were merchants from Tang before I was adopted.”

“Yet here we are, commanding respect as true warriors…” Junhui nearly marvels at the fact, “A man can only be judged by the path he walks, not the name he bears, nor the house from which he comes. We chose to fight for what we believe in. That path led us here. That’s all there is to it.”

Kun and Junhui are two very different people, but listening to his passion as he talks resonates with you as well. You were born into a family of Demons, but here you are. All your life, you thought you were human. Nothing more, nothing less. But the truth in this discovery gave you life beyond you thought you were, and they accepted you.

“Our ambition will never waver. We’ll fight to the end like we promised to.”

“Thank you for your time,” Junhui says, setting his cup down. He nods to you and Kun before standing and excusing himself from the room.

“They’re already going to fight?” You ask as you begin to clear the teacups.

“Come here,” Kun says, reaching out and taking your hand in his. He stands, gently pulling you towards the door outside. The wind is frigid, without your thick coat on it cuts you straight to the bone. “See that plain down there?” From the higher vantage you have, you see the rolling hills pour down into a sunken valley that spans as far as the eye can see.

“We’ll go down the plain and attack Pyongyang from there. Minghao’s ships will come from the west and attack by sea. And if all is communicated correctly, the forces up north will converge on the city at the same time as us.”

“Then we’ve got to make sure we plan all of that out correctly, right?” You ask, “Sending troops in waves would only give them time to prepare for the next one.”

“Yeah,” Kun smiles, “If we can take Ajinham before they can fortify it well enough I’m hopeful we can end this before summer hits. The battle in Pyongyang will be my last. It will be the last place I draw my sword as a warrior.”

“Kun…” You’re desperate to talk about anything else.

No sooner do you step back into the inviting warmth of his apartments does his expression suddenly shift. He lets out a grunt as you watch his Fury nature forcing itself to the fore. His hair shifts hue, his eyes turn red.

“Don’t worry,” he assures you weakly, “I’ve been doing pretty well since I got here. Looks like my body’s getting worse. Hope it’ll hold up until spring ends.” Does he mean that he’s ready to throw away his life so long as he lives to fight in one last battle?

“Please don’t say that,” you say, “Didn’t I tell you why I’m here?” Unfastening your collar, exposing the flesh of your neck, you step towards him, “Please don’t say you just want to live until spring. I need you to live longer than that. Much longer.”

“You’re a scary woman, you know that?” He smiles, although the pain twists it into a heart-wrenching grimace. His hands clasp your shoulders, and you feel his lips brush against your neck. “I haven’t tasted blood in a while,” Kun murmurs.

“You haven’t had any since you left?” His silence answers your question, “Why?”

You feel as if you know the answer, though. If he only cares about his body lasting until spring, then he likely hasn’t been taking care of it.

“I suppose my blood must taste awfully good,” you chuckle, “Because, you know, I’m a Demon. In fact, it must be so good that you don’t want to drink anyone else’s blood.”

He lets out a snort of surprise, “Well maybe you’re right…”

March 2nd, 667 – Yangdeok, Kingdom of Silla You find Kun at his desk, his eyes fixed on a stack of documents, and you muster a troubled smile at him. This has been a familiar scene for whenever you find him, as it seems his work ethic is the same as it ever had been.

Even if you are worried that he’ll start to find you obnoxious, you place his teacup beside him as he writes furiously onto a piece of parchment.

“The hell’s this?” He asks, not looking up from his work, “Don’t remember asking you for tea.” Kun scrunches his nose as he finally looks up to you as you flash him a bright grin. A sigh escapes him, “Don’t worry. I’m not tired. In fact, I’m starting to think I’m cut out for all this bureaucratic crap.”

“Well, it’s true that your duties here in your office are very important, but…” You hum, “It’s not like I can imagine a job or position that you wouldn’t be cut out for.”

“Of course you can. I hate public speaking, and even worse, I hate having to deal with emotional bullshit.” You suppose for him, a loathing profession never had gotten in the way of completing his duties. You’re certain that he has a knack for public speaking, let alone balancing the emotional stress that comes with managing a large group of soldiers. “So, it looks like I have to thank Minghao and Junhui for stomaching all of that shit so that I don’t have to.”

You chuckle at him, “Yes, but in return, you’re the one who’s in charge of managing all of the subordinates. Right?”

“Eh, win some, lose some. They’ve been calling me a Demon for so long, it’s kinda been throwing me off.” He shakes his head, “Hell, I don’t think you could pay me enough to bark at those idiots, or act like the Demon I used to.” His warm eyes glance toward you with an exceptional gleam, and it’s like he’s a completely different person from the man you met all those years ago in Seorabeol.

It’s true– Kun is no longer the Demon Commander and it seems like he’s discovered an inimitable truth: the practice of self-love is deeply fulfilling.

“What’s the matter?” His gaze narrows, “Do I have something on my face?”

“I was wondering when people started calling you a Demon.”

“I guess it’ll come up sooner or later… Don’t get too excited, it's not that interesting…”

March 19th, 667 – Yangdeok, Kingdom of Silla Before Minghao’s fleet is launched from Ongjin, a group is splintered off from the main army in Yangdeok and sent to the navy to aid in their future attack on Pyongyang. Jeong Sungchan had volunteered to go and you received word on the thirteenth that the fleet had left port to set the offensive in motion.

On the night of the news’ arrival, Kun holds a meeting into the late, late hours of the night.

“Our meeting is over,” Shotaro says as he exits the meeting hall, looking to where you’ve been sitting patiently.

“Thank you for telling me, Shotaro,” you smile up at him. “I’m planning on bringing Kun something to eat, would you like anything?”

“Oh no, I’m quite alright.” He says glancing back to the room, “Although I think it best for you to hold off on your plans for now. I don’t want to worry you but Kun’s been in quite the foul mood after tonight’s meeting.”

For Shotaro to be in such a dour mood must mean that whatever they'd discussed in there must have been truly serious.

“It can’t be that bad, I’m used to being scolded…” You raise your head high and stand before his door. As you let yourself into his room, you see something that stops you dead in your tracks. Kun isn’t sitting in his usual spot. Instead, he’s sitting on the floor with an apprehensive expression. “I=I’m sorry. I, um, heard your meeting ended. If you’d like something to eat I can bring something up soon. What do you say?”

“Don’t want it. Not hungry.” He’s curt, and you can tell he’s irritable.

Although whatever was discussed in their meeting had been left in the meeting room, you can tell those heavy thoughts still swirl around his mind.

“Is there anything I can do for you?” You ask him.

“I don’t know how many times I’ve heard you say that,” he sighs, “I seriously have nothing to ask of you. Sorry for taking things out on you.” Now he turns his head upward to look at you with a sad smile, “When we first men, it drove me mad thinking that you and I couldn’t relate to anything at all. But now that you’re here, I can truly say that it makes me happy to have you here with me. I mean it.”

“Kun…?”

“You’ve kept your eyes on me this whole time… Ever since we were in Seorabeol, in fact. If I think about it, you’re probably the person who’s seen me at my lowest.” He lets out a dry laugh, “It’s ironic, isn’t it? Thanks to you, I can remember. The weight of my burden… The reason every one of our friends sacrificed themselves. If it’s something as simple as rushing straight in, I can just handle that kind of stuff myself. But having you here with me as someone to talk me through doing something stupid make me think twice. You’re my rock.”

He moves to his feet, walking over to the window cracked open to let cool air into the room, “Putting my life on the line isn’t something I have to think about, but it’s all about knowing the timing. You’ve helped me to come to this conclusion.”

“Then if my life’s purpose is to be there for you, then nothing could make me happier.”

Another laugh, “I’ve only caused you trouble. It’s too much of a burden to put on the shoulders of a woman like you.”

“I won’t let this bring me down… I’m your rock after all.”

“I see…” He hums, leaving the windowsill and slowly begins walking toward you. “I’ve changed my mind. I could use something to eat. Preferably your cooking.”

“Oh? Is there something in particular you’d like?”

“Surprise me,” he smiles, “Just make sure it’s good. Cook like the fate of the Hwarang is in your hands.” It’s as if the realization of your connection hits you suddenly, and you can’t help but grin madly.

With the threat of war looming on the horizon, you can sense that Kun’s mind will struggle to find itself at ease in the coming days. You take solace in knowing that you can give him just one moment of reprieve before whatever’s to come.

March 15th, 667 – Yangdeok, Kingdom of Silla Several days later, the town begins to welcome springtime. As you all had long anticipated, Minghao’s ships make port in Cholsan but stay docked until given the word to advance on their enemy. Being a key member of these discussions of when to push forward, Kun is often pulled away from the Hwarang’s compound and Yangdeok in general, to a secret meeting place where it is believed all high ranking members of the Silla and Tang debate. You, on the other hand, have been ordered to remain in Yangdeok, the only thing you can do is wait patiently for his safe return.

The day that the men stoll back through the door is a happy one; Kun, Jeno and Shotaro stepping inside from the warmer day.

“I’m so glad to see you all safe…” You aren’t sure what catches hold of you, but as soon as you catch site of them, you feel your heart begin to swell and tears begin to prick at your eyes.

“Such a crybaby,” Kun chuckles, “You know, pretty soon you’re going to dry up from all the tears you’re losing.” Despite his words, he stands next to you with a warm greeting.

“Have you heard from Sungchan?” You look at Jeno, “I know the ships arrived in Cholsan a few days ago…”

Suddenly, everyone’s expressions drop.

Jeno furiously bites his lip, “We received word that the troop of men he went with to Cholsan were ambushed somewhere along their route… There haven’t been any reports of survivors.”

An altogether completely different emotion washes over you, the tears justifying themselves. This has been the first time since arriving in Yangdeok that you have to surrender yourselves to the news of another lost comrade, and your vision blurs for a moment.

“Sungchan had been dealing with the guilt of being unable to protect Taeil for quite some time… If I recall,” Shotaro closes his eyes, “it was his wish to greet the Chief with his head held proudly when he crossed over into the afterlife. Sungchan didn’t die a coward, so I believe that at the very least he accomplished that.”

Later that afternoon, as the sun begins to transition into red and orange hues, Kun summons you to his quarters. The light filters in on him as he sits at his desk, looking up at you as you enter.

“You’ve got time,” He says quietly, “Get as far away from here as you can. I can send you with a merchant’s caravan, I’ll get everything worked out. You don’t need to woot about a thing.”

You understand immediately what he’s trying to do. Kun knows the loss of war- does he not want you to get mixed into the crossfire?

“You can try and convince me all you want but I won’t budge… I want to stay. With you,” you say softly. Knowing everything he’s gone through, why would you leave him now? Besides, you’re sure if you hear of his passing in some far off, distant place, it would surely break you in two.

He lets out a breathy laugh that almost sounds more like a sigh of relief, “I figured you’d say that. You’re a real strange one.” You watch his eyes flick in miniscule directions as if he’s coming up with another plan.

“You’re worried about me, right?”

“Of course.” He says immediately.

“Well if you’re worried about me, then don’t let me out of your sight, okay? It’ll be your job to keep me safe.” You smile at him as his eyebrows raise in surprise. “And you can’t do that if you’re dead, can you? So, survive. To protect me.”

“Don’t worry too much about it,” he smiles at you, “I can’t let you die before I do.”

April 19th, 667 – Yangdeok, Kingdom of Silla By the first of the month, you get news that Goguryeo is expecting the assault on Pyongyang. They began reinforcing their walls and reports say that many of the cityfolk fled the city in a want to not get caught in the fighting.

Xu Minghao reunites with his fleet in Cholsan, Junhi leads the men who have been assigned to navigate Kangdong Pass to reach Pyongyang, while Kun has been assigned to the men at Haegok Pass. You accompany Kun where you wait for the enemy’s resistance.

Even though the snow has long since melted, the weather still gets quite cold at night. To rouse the men, Kun has brought several large jugs of yakju.

“The battle’s going to start soon,” he says as he pours the men cups of liquor, “I’ll be counting on you guys. We can’t afford to rest, unfortunately, but I figured you could have something to warm you up. I’d like to give you guys as much as you want, but we don’t know when those bastards are gonna show up.”

After he’s emptied the supply, you and he walk together back to his tent.

“Kun, are you alright?” You ask, rubbing at your nose so it doesn’t begin to run.

“What do you mean by that?” He turns to look at you, the empty jugs clinking together in his hands.

“You’re not drunk, are you?” You look at the aforementioned jugs.

“That’s it?” He laughs, “I had one cup, I can hold my liquor, promise.” The smile slips from his face and he looks off into the distance, “They’re almost like kids to me. Not much I can do for them personally on the battlefield, seems like a little yakju is the least I can give them.”

The two passes are the last line of Goguryeo defense before the city itself, this would be an important undertaking to take these points if the Silla-Tang plan is to go smoothly.

“I’m sure they understand,” you nod, setting down the jug you’re holding beside his tent.

“You always say what I want to hear,” he says softly, setting down his next to yours.

April 30th, 667 – Anjinham Fortress, Kingdom of Silla With the warming weather, comes battle. Junhui and his men are routed at Kangdong, letting Kun’s forces push through with concerted effort towards the fortress at the mouth of Haegok Pass. Beyond these walls and field beyond is where the final battle will take place.

Everything has gone well, just as Kun had predicted all those weeks ago. Before the night ends, Kun requests your presence in his quarters.

“Are you going to be up for much longer?” He tilts his head as you approach, “You should sleep soon, there are long days ahead.”

“I know,” you have to try and stifle a yawn, “but… “ As the days press on toward the final assault on Pyongyang, days like this in relative closeness to Kun become more and more sparse. All you want is to cherish every moment with him while you still can, so you linger for a moment longer. Before you’re able to finish your thought, a visitor arrives.

“Chief, are you here?” The muffled voice of Jeno speaks out.

“Yeah, I am,” Kun responds, “Come in.” As Jeno enters you look to him, Kun questioning, “What’s the matter?”

“There’s something that just couldn’t wait, something I need to give you, Kun.” Jeno says, his hands fumbling with a rolled up scroll in his hands. He holds it out to Kun, “Here…”

When Kun realizes what he’s looking at, his eyes grow wide and he stares intently at it. “Did… Did Kunhang draw this? Why are you giving it to me?”

“When we were in Ungjin some time ago I went to see him…” Jeno confesses, “And that’s what I told him, I told him to show all of you where he’s been… To show you the life he’s led and experienced. And so, not long ago, he sent me this drawing. As soon as I saw it I thought it best to give it to you.”

“I’ll take this,” Kun says after a moment, solemnly smiling at him, “Thank you, Jeno.”

Without another word, the younger one turns with a bow and leaves the room. Kun gives a curt smile, exhaling as he plops back into his chair.

“What was that all about?” You ask, looking at Kun reviewing the drawing, “What is that?” The minute you see it, the vivid brushstrokes on the page evokes a small gasp and a feeling of magnificence from you. “A Fury…?”

Painted onto the scroll is the depiction of a Fury, complete with white hair and crimson eyes. Within those eyes, however, is none of the murderous rage you’ve come to expect in Furies. A peculiar kindness is imbued into them, “Who is this?”

“Well, this was the Chief of the Hwarang, but that hasn’t been in a long, long time.” Kun guffaws, “The bastard would get into skirmishes with merchants, nobles, and commoners. Then go partying in Noseo-dong when he was finished. His name was Zhang Yixing. When he was still kicking around, I don;t think I ever got a good night’s rest. Always had to get into some bullshit.”

Everything he describes to you about Yixing seems incongruent to the kind-looking image of the man on the page.

“Actually, funny to think about it now, but I remember spending every day thinking of ways to fuck with him. Then, he told me something… ‘If you want any chance of pushing Taeil to to the top, you need to become the ‘Demon’ you were born to be.’” Kun hums, “And I took his word for it, then I took his life when it seemed being a Fury was too much for him.”

“Pushing Taeil to the top…” You can’t begin to imagine bearing the responsibility of killing the man who was supposed to be your leader, and you realize how dire those straits must’ve been.

“I have a feeling that night Yixing knew, somehow, that I was going to take his life.” Kun’s eyes are locked with your own for a minute of dull silence before falling back to gaze on the drawing. “Strangely enough, the same look he gave me as I killed him is the one drawn here.”

“Huh?” The man you see on the page looks so warm and gentle, and in no way did you interpret his expression as belonging to someone expecting to meet their demise.

“You know, come to think of it, I could probably credit the bastard for giving me the kick in the ass needed to get my shit together.” Kun smirks, “If I let the Hwarang half-ass their way to power, who knows what kind of shit Yixing’ll have to say to me in the afterlife.”

When it comes to people who’ve made a considerable impression on Kun, Taeil is one of the first people to come to mind. Yet, it seems as if Kun holds a special place for Yixing as well, and you can hear the admiration.

“I don’t know what the hell fate’s trying to tell me,” his arms cross, “but he visited me in my dream last night.”

“What kind of dream was it?”

“Well, we weren’t speaking to one another,” Kun nods down to the painting, “But he seemed at peace, not too unlike how he looks on this… It was like his eyes were telling me to let go. Let go of the pain, the burden…”

May 8th, 667 – Ajinham Fortress, Kingdom of Silla As the men come in and out of the fortress, Kun is dead set on making sure everyone and all equipment is up to par for the days ahead. A certain group of incoming soldiers does catch him off guard–

“Hello, Chief!” Shotaro greets with a smile.

“Everything’s going to plan,” Jeno smiles as he bounds up alongside him, “We’ll have the city in no time.”

“I’m glad to see you all safe…” You sigh out in relief.

“Of course they are,” Kun says, looking at the pair, “The battle’s not even started yet.”

“It’s nice of you to be concerned for us,” Jeno blushes sheepishly.

“I’m glad you’re doing well too. How are things with you?” Shotaro asks.

“Great,” you shoot a glance at Kun, “He’s allowed me to stick around as usual. I’m not sure if I can live up to the bar you set, but I’m doing my best!”

“Nah,” Shotaro shakes his head, “Nobody can do what you do.”

“He’s right,” Jeno nods fervently, “The only person in the world that can defeat Kun is you.”

“Knock it off, guys,” Kun chuckles, “This is all going to go to her head and then I’ll be the one to deal with it.”

“Apologies, sir,” Shotaro says, “It can’t be helped.”

After some time, Kun fixes his gaze on Jeno, “Thanks for stopping by with the painting.”

“There’s no need to thank me, I’m confident that Kunhang is happy you have it.”

“Hmph, maybe it’s time for me to stop being such a hardass all the time.” Kun nods, “Hey, I’m leaving the rest to you.”

The words don’t register for Jeno at first, and he blinks incredulously with a nervous chuckle, “...Um… What do you mean by that?” Kun smiles back kindly, staring back at Jeno with eyes that brim with warmth. After a second, Jeno perks up and his eyes widen, finally realizing what he means, “Understood. Please leave everything to me.”

Kun nods curtly, perhaps satisfied with the confidence in his reply, “Osaki, do me a favor. Can you call Junhui? I have some words for him.”

A few minutes later, Shotaro returns with Wen Junhui at his side.

“Sorry for taking so long to get here… They put up a hell of a fight at Kangdong,” Junhui apologizes.

“We split our forces, we got screwed a bit because of it but we brought it back in the end.” Kun nods slowly, “All that matters now is concentrating our men on the front gates of the city.”

“We’ll take it no matter the cost,” Shotaro nods firmly.

“As long as we fight under the Hwarang banner we’ll fight to the very last man!” Jeno says quickly.

“Don’t say shit like that– Did you already forget that Junhui’s in command going forward?” Kun frowns.

“I’ll raise the Hwarang’s standard for this battle. Then everything should be fine, right?” Junhui asks, “So long as it’s up, I don’t think I could falter. I’ve lost a few battles here and there, sure, but I’ve never given up on the spirit of a warrior.”

“Hah,” Kun smiles at him, “Now the Army Minister’s superstitious? You need to get your act together, Wen.” That’s when you realize that all four of them are smiling. “We should get going,” Kun looks to you, “the men aren’t going to move themselves.”

“Alright…” You say, looking back to the other men, “I’ll see you all again soon.”

As you’re walking away, Shotaro shouts out, “I’m entrusting you with Kun!”

Ever since the war had begun, you’re unsure of how many times people have said this to you. You turn to look over your shoulder at him, “I’ll do my best! I’m ready to lay down my life just like anyone in the Hwarang!”

“You don’t need to risk your life,” Shotaro shakes his head as you turn fully to look at him, Kun continuing on behind you,, “I want you to protect Kun’s heart. He’s a strong man, but he hides behind that strength and he suffers alone. He needs someone who can look past that, and be there to support him. I believe that someone is you.”

To stay by Kun’s side and support him is all that you want… “Can I really do that?” Soon you’ll be plunged into a violent and bloody battle. How much help can you be to him in the middle of a war?

“What are you talking about?!” Jeno saysm “No one else except for you can do it!”

“Kun trusts you more than anyone else,” Shotaro smiles.

“Alright…” No one else can stand by him in the days to come. You nod firmly and wave to them one last time before rushing back to Kun’s side.

May 10th, 667 – Ajinham Fortress, Kingdom of Silla You’re sitting quietly in Kun’s study when he suddenly says, “We’re going to attack tomorrow.”

“Right…” You nod slowly. You’ve been on Pyongyang’s doorstep for weeks now, the battle is inevitable. When the sun rises the next day, the area will become a battlefield.

“Are you sure–”

“Yes, I’m going to stay with you.” However the battle ends, you intend to be there with him when it does.

“I need to stop letting you say it all the time…” His expression is solemn, but his lips are pressed tightly together and you can feel his hesitation. Kun’s eyes stare back into yours.

“Um…” The silence drags on and on.

“More than anything else, I want to keep you safe.” His voice is low, quiet, “I’m… I think I’m in love with you.”

Your mouth hangs open, the question you had intended to ask now forgotten. You’ve loved Kun for some time by now, and in the past months you’ve begun to realize how much he cares for you as well. For a moment, you think you’re heart is going to stop.

He gives you a crooked smile, reaching out to close your mouth, his fingers lingering under your chin, “I thought I could just die as soon as I’d done what I had to do for the Hwarang.”

The words linger in your ears and you can feel just how much has been weighing down his heart. It seems as if he’s trying to assuage your anxieties as he speaks in a soothing tone, “I mean, it’s not like I had a death wish or anything. I just… wouldn’t have anything to live for anymore.” His hand drops from your chin and into his lap, “So long as I led the Hwarang and made them into what they were meant to be, what did it matter if I lived or died? … But now I’ve got a reason to live.”

You feel your shoulders relax from a tension you didn’t realizing you’ve been holding.

“Because you’re by my side… It gives me a reason to keep moving forward.”

“Me…?” As you struggle to comprehend your worth to him, you squeeze your fists together.

Kun reaches out and embraces you, holding you tightly without saying a word, he opens his mouth as if he was going to say something, then closes it. There isn’t a need for words in this moment. At last, his stubborn heart opens, and through his lips pours out what it has long kept hidden. His touch is gentle as ripples on a lake but when you kiss, you feel within him a passion that burns so hot it could put a forge to shame.

And though that feeling fades as your lips part, the love that flows between you remains in your heart.

“Continue to stay by me,” he says softly, pressing his forehead against yours, “I won’t let you go even if you want to, so be prepared.”

“Of course, Kun,” you respond quietly, his hand raising to brush away the tears you didn’t realize were falling.

May 11th, 667 – Ajinham Fortress, Kingdom of Silla Once the first and second wave of Junhui’s troops leaves, Kun decides to travel with the men stationed in the third group.

“You’re coming, right?” Kun asks you as he walks to you, the reigns of his horse in hand as it trots alongside him.

“Yes!” You nod and he grins back at you.

The two of you gallop through the valley, moving at an incredible pace.It seems to be going well until something impacts Kun’s body, the horse, surprised by the sudden jolt rears up and throws you to the ground. Rid of its frightening burden, the horse bolts.

You’re fortunate to have landed in a small area of brush, only a few small scratches littering your body. “Kun!” You cry out to him, crawling across the ground toward his body, your own bruised and aching. The soil around him is staining red, more blood than you’d seen over the course of your time in the Hwarang.

Terror grips you and you can hear blood hammering in your ears.

“Kun!” You call out to him again, shaking his body as you call his name again and again.

“Hm?” His brow furrows ever so slightly. A normal human would have died from this– but his Fury blood is keeping him alive, if only barely.

“Say something!”

His eyes open to thin slits, “Are you alright?” Near dead and undoubtedly in serious pain, and his first thought is about your safety. “We’re in trouble if they come back to finish the job. We need to get out of here and wait for this to heal.” He struggles to his feet and begins to walk, blood dripping down the length of his body.

“Stop!” You say and haul his arm around your shoulder, and he leans against it gratefully. Scanning over the vicinity, you cannot see any enemy soldiers. Perhaps they’d seen you fall from the horse and assumed you’d died.

Nudging Kun, you push him to move into the brush away from the open air. In the forest you find a grove and settle down, “Kun, are you okay?”

He rests under the trunk of a large tree, a steady flow of blood leaving him. One might guess him dead from his pale complexion, “I guess so…”

“We need to do what we can to stop the bleeding…” It takes a sheer force of will to stop your fingers from shaking as you carefully peel off his clothing. Revealing his chest, you see two arrow punctures, one near his heart and one on his stomach. “This is horrible…” You murmur, thanking whatever deity’s out there that the archer had missed his heart.

You do what you can to staunch the bleeding, but without the proper tools you can only minimally patch him up, “As soon as you’re able to move again, we need to go back to the fortress.” With no response you call out to him again, “Kun…? Can you hear me?”

“Urg, yeah…” His breaths are heavy, “I don’t know if I can go back out there on my own yet.”

“Okay!” You say, knowing you need to keep him awake. “Shotaro and the others have everything under control. They’ll be waiting for you.”

“Damn r-right they will…” Sweat pours from his forehead, “They’re not Hwarang for nothing… We can;t waste too much time though, we– we have to come back and cover them while they take the gate.”

“You’re right… you’re… You’re going to make it,,” however the spots where he’d been shot don’t look like they’ll be closing any time soon. Had they used silver arrowheads? “Kun…?” His eyes close you begin to panic, “Kun!”

“Goddamn it… S-stop making a scene. I can hear you, alright?” His voice is barely above a murmur– it’s practically a wispy breath.

At once, a sense of clarity washes over you– he’s a Fury. “Kun. You need to drink my blood.” Without any doubts, you move your blade to your wrist.

“Stop it!” The force of his command startles you, and the blade drops to the forest floor. In his condition, he shouldn’t be able to scream this loudly.

“Why–?!”

“Spare me,” he says through grit teeth, “I’ll be okay. I’m not going to let this crap kill me… This isn’t the end, I told you that. You’re… you’re the reason I’m alive. I’m fine, I won’t die here.”

“I don’t believe you.” You frown, “I believe that you want to live and don’t plan on dying here. But you’re not ‘fine’!” He blinks incredulously, perhaps taken aback by the intensity of your glare. “So, I’m mot taking your word for it. You always put up a wall and pretend everything is ‘fine’ even when you’re bursting at the seams!”

You’re determined to get your way just this once. And maybe this time, you’ve gotten through to him.

“Some lady you are…” He chuckles weakly, “I’m starting to second guess why I fell for you. Ugh, this is why they say women from the countryside are trouble…”

“Look, I promise you can give me grief for this later, but for now, please…” Before you finish, Kun closes his eyes in silent resignation.

“Do as you wish…” He leans gently against the tree carefully. You pick up your blade, running it across the length of your wrist.You put your lips against the cut, sipping in a large gulp of blood without swallowing. You then lean over, pressing your lips against his and let the blood flow into his mouth.

Perhaps its his Fury instincts kicking in that allow him to accept the blood as readily as he does. You repeat the process of this blood transfer over and over again. You’re about to do it one more time when his hand reaches out to stop you.

“That’s enough,” he says calmly, “I’ve stopped bleeding.” His cheeks, once pale and pallid, begin to show color once more. “You’ve gone and hurt yourself for me…”

“It’ll heal soon…” you say, hiding the cut with the sleeve of your robes.

“What kind of absolute idiot would ever allow the woman he loves to hurt herself for his sake?” He sighs out, “Try putting yourself in my shoes for once.” After all of that trouble, the first thing he does is scold you… You can’t help but burst into laughter.

“What kind of absolute idiot would ever want to watch the man she loves suffer?”

“Oh, shut up…” He says as you continue to laugh.

After another handful of minutes he brushes himself off and rises to his feet.

“We’ve got to get going,” he says, pulling his robes back together. “Let’s head back to the fortress. Oh– and by the way, I’d prefer the next time we kissed to taste a little bit better than that did.” He chuckles as you help him start walking. His body isn’t great, but it’s enough to get you back.

Once you get back to the fortress, you’re met with a startling site. Perhaps you hadn’t noticed them bloom, or they’d come into their own while you were away, but the azalea bushes surrounding the fortress have sprung to life.

Their petals dance in the sunlit breeze, fluttering like small butterflies. The area is empty, the men away fighting at Pyongyang…

“Kun, how are you feeling?”

He forces a small grin. As a Fury, he should be fully healed by now. Dejun’s words about the Fury’s borrowing their power from their future lifespan suddenly comes to mind. You slowly begin to panic, becoming paralyzed with dread over the implications of this realization. Is this the end for Kun?

He breaks the silence, interrupting your anxiety, “You don’t look half bad surrounded by flowers.”

“You really think so?” You muse, “I’ve alway thought they really suited you, though.” Each falled blossom is strikingly beautiful in defiance of the tragic end they’ll surely face.

A strong gust of wind blows through the clearing. And then, out of nowhere, a figure emerges from the treeline.

“So, you were alive…” Lee Donghyuck’s eyes fall on Kun and his mouth curls up into a smile.

“Why…?” Your voice breaks and the Demon only laughs.

“This man is an affront to my honor.” He says simply, “I’m here to put an end to all of this.”

The last you’d seen Donghyuck, he warned you that he’d return. You didn’t think that he would forsake his clan and travel all the way here just to fight Kun.

“I’m surprised to see you make it this far,” Donghyuck mutters. “Impressive, for a fake. I heard your pathetic friends got their asses kicked until it was just you standing. I’m not sure if being born into a warrior family… Or hell, even being born as a Demon, could help you survive the embarrassment of failing as often as you fools do.”

It’s strange… his tone is as derisive as usual, but his words are almost compliments. In some way, he recognizes what Kun’s been through.

“Didn’t think you’d come all the way to Pyongyang.” Kun crosses his arms, his voice still a bit raspy. “What were you gonna do if I ate it already? You would’ve wasted your time.”

Donghyuck’s face screws into a twisted grin and he draws his sword.

“He’s hurt!” You cry, stepping between the two men.

However, Kun puts his arm in front of you and moves you, “Step back. He’s thrown everything away to come fight me, right? It’s only polite of me to accept the invitation to fight a warrior of his quality.”

Donghyuck practically abandoned his clan. This, up until now, seems to be his entire lids, just for the sake of defending his honor.

Kun and he are two different men in almost every way, but perhaps they share a warrior’s pride.

“I’ll be fine,” Kun tells you as he reaches for his sword, “I won’t die. I already told you: I have a reason to live.”

If he fights Donghyuck, then surely by then his life’ll be up. Even if you can convince him to run, then everything he’s stood and lived for will be destroyed. But you can’t stop him.

“...I’ll watch, then. I believe in you.”

Kun’s smile is fleeting like the blossoms scattering at your feet.

“Furies are only imitations,” Donghyuck says, brandishing his sword, “The more you use those powers, the shorter your life gets. You’re nothing compared to a pure-blooded Demon. You are destined to wither and die. You’re no different than these,” his show skids across the ground, swirling the azalea petals around.

“A man’s gotta protect the people he cares about. It’s not so easy to be a warrior, didn’t you know?” His tone indicates that he’s speaking seriously, but a sardonic grin dances along his lips. Watching him now makes you see just how much he’s given, every drop of sweat, blood and tears in his life to protect the ones he loves.

“Perhaps the name of ‘Fury’ no longer suits you.” Donghyuck says, his gaze narrowing, “The life you strive to live is not that of a fake.” There’s no hint of contempt left in those red eyes of his, full of confidence. “You are a Demon.”

The man who takes so much in being a Demon calling a Fury, a ‘fake’, a Demon… For him that’s possibly the highest compliment he can ever give.

“I take back all the crap I gave you for being a fake. If you’re really ready to take on the life of a Demon, that means you must have a Demon’s name. I name you… Dùjuān huā jīngshén.”

You think back to the first night you met Kun, his hair whipping around his face as snow falls around him like these monstrous azalea blooms do… It seems almost as if the name had been chosen long, long ago; so perfectly befitting of him.

“Thanks, I guess, but I’m not doing this so you’ll call me a Demon, you know.” Kun’s mouth quirks upward into a smile as he slides his sword from its sheath. With a sigh, his body shivers and suddenly his hair is white.

“Can’t play long, though. That a problem?”

“Not at all. I’ll kill you with the first blow.”

The air is tense between the two; not a soul can come between them. A wind blows up, casting scores of petals into the air. Between the two combatants, there’s a brief moment of stillness. If only for a second, their swords meet. The two trade blows that thunder through the field around you, slashing with their full body weight.

Donghyuck’s sword passes within a hair's breadth of Kun, but the Hwarang had found his mark.He buries his sword deep into the Demon’s heart.

“There’s still something I’ve got to protect,” Kun murmurs slowly, his voice full of confident authority, “I can’t lose, not even to a Demon.”

Donghyuck gazes up at the clear blue sky, and you can almost see a faint grunt creep onto his face.

His lips move, “If my end were to be met with the blade of a Demon like yourself… Then I have no regrets… I have lived my life with honor, and I die with the same.” Donghyuck’s eyes are free of hostility, if anything, he seems at peace. To die in a duel against a foe he respects… “You’ve defeated me. Now you must live out what you have left, Qian Kun.”

Those are his last words.

Kun draws his sword from Donghyuck’s body as it falls, dropping the still bloody sword back into its scabbard, “... I will.” Then his body trembles for a moment, and he gasps before falling to his knees.

“Kun!” You shout and run to his side. As he lies on his back, you take his hands into yours, “Please hang in there!” Your desperate screams reverberate around you, but Kun can only manage an uncertain lip curl.

“Man, you always have to cry, don’t you?” Kun smiles up at you, his voice weak, “If you don’t get thicker skin, there’s no way you’ll be able to handle being married to a warrior…” He winces with near every word and your heart clenches at the pain he must be in.

“I only cry because of you… And besides, being married to a warrior doesn’t make you impervious to watching the person you love get hurt.” Teardrops stream down your cheeks, dripping down on his bruised face. He reaches his hand unsteadily upward to wipe your flowing tears, kindly running a finger across your cheek.

“D- Don’t worry… You won’t ever have to cry on my behalf again. Just let me spend whatever time I have left with you beside me. I want to enjoy it…” Kun’s eyes quietly shut. You hold tightly onto his blood soaked body, hugging him closely as the blood seeps into your robes. Bright blossoms dance cooly around you as you look to the sky.

June 15th, 667 – Toehwa-hyeon, Kingdom of Silla Kun never made it to the gates or siege of Pyongyang. He never saw the fall of Yeon Gaesomun or the Unification of Silla. You hear later that it was Wen Junhui who brokered for a sated peace between Tang and Silla, at least for the time being.

The Tang reclaimed Minghao and his ships as soon as they could, returning him to their capital to bestow honors and titles on him. Somehow, Shotaro made it through the battle, despite having been on the front line. When you asked what he intended to do, he laughed and said he’d probably open a swordsmanship school in Seorabeol. Jeno, on the other hand, was entrusted by Kun with the Hwarang, returned to Seorabeol to try and rebuild what men they have left. As for Jungwoo, before the battle of Pyongyang, took his own life with a concoction of opium. You suppose he would have seen his life as forfeit if he couldn’t continue being a warrior…

From the stoop of your home, you watch the blooms of flowers lining the road before you, recalling everything that had occurred up north.

How many men had given their lives for what they believed in…? Perhaps most of all, you remember the time spent with Kun. Every time you come across an abundance of them, they remind you of that dreamlike spring, so far removed from it, you’re left to wonder if you really had spent all that time with him.

“You really like those flowers, don’t you?” A voice murmurs out from beside you, a mass of warmth pressing against you as another body squeezes into the doorframe.

“Yeah.” Neither the Yuchae nor the sansuyu can compare. “I like them because they remind me of you.”

Kun looks at you in a serene contemplation for a moment, then lets his grin spread across his face into a smile, “Well, I like them too. They look good on you.” His voice, soft and quiet, throws your mind into chaos.

“Lately, I’ve been worried about the end…” He hums, noting your confusion, “I never get bored when I’m with you. Sometimes, I wish I could live forever.”

As a Fury, Kun has spent his future in exchange for power in the present. How much he’s spent, you don’t know. His life could end tomorrow. If he could live forever, then that fear of the unknown will disappear.

“It’d probably be an easy way to go… to accept that I’m used up and wither away. But there’s no need for me to ask for an end. Since I want to live, I'll fight for survival. That suits me better.”

“I don’t want to be apart,” you say, your hand holding onto the sleeve of his robes. “I want to stay with you for as long as I can.”

He chuckles, “You cry so easily, I’d feel pretty bad if I left you behind.”

“Oh…” Tears had begun to run down your cheek without you noticing at first. You blink in surprise, but that hardly helps. You raise your hand to wipe them away but he grins and stops you.

“I’ll get them for you,” he says softly, gently drying them with his fingers. “It’s my job to help you.”

“Then it’s my job to support you too.”

“Of course, who else could fit that role aside from you?” He murmurs with a smile, “No matter what I do to drive you away, you won’t go. You even followed me to Pyongyang. I lost to you… and I don’t think I can ever win.”

You want to hold on to this moment of him, the memory, for as long as you can.

#nct fluff #nct angst #nct smut #kun x reader #kun fluff #kun angst #kun smut #wayv fluff #wayv angst #wayv smut #it's here :)

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