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Chapter Text

“You dare to bring a bastard into my home? Jeon Bongjun! Who do you think you are?” 

The irate voice is accompanied by the unmistakable snap of a whip against stone, a sizzle of electric spiritual energy layering ozone into the air. Jimin flinches and shrinks back, trying to make himself small - smaller than he already is, which is quite small to begin with. He hides part of his face behind the dark violet durumagi of the ahjussi who had found him on the streets only earlier that day. 

But some wary instinct makes him keep a tearful eye on the angry woman spitting a tirade in the courtyard of what is supposed to be Jimin’s new home. She is tall and stately, a fine-boned face with glossy, raven-black hair, and glittering eyes. Unlike ahjussi, she does not have a face that looks kind. She is beautiful but cold, and she looks at Jimin with fierce hatred.

The ahjussi Jimin cowers behind is Sect Leader Jeon Bongjun, someone who knew Jimin’s parents. The man sighs, a long-suffering sound. “Hyebin, this is not my child, but the child of my dear friends.”

“You mean that woman,” the Madam of the sect spits. She returns her furious gaze to Jimin, a sneer crossing her aristocratic face. “I can see the resemblance in the bastard. Oh, I bet you’re awfully proud of yourself, Jeon Bongjun! You finally get what you want all along! The child of that woman-”

“Jimin is not my child,” Bongjun tries, but he is talked over. It reminds Jimin of the way angry shopkeepers would talk over him when he tried to explain that he wasn’t stealing, he was just taking from the goods that had been discarded in the trash. But just like the shopkeepers, Madam Jeon has closed her ears.

“-I will not have a street rat bastard in this sect! Hear me now! If you insist on bringing that child into my home, he will be the ruin of us all! Just like his mother was the ruin of everything!”

Jimin’s small fingers, which had been gripped tightly into the soft, clean fabric of the Sect Leader’s overcoat, loosen at the vitriol in the Madam’s voice. He feels very small and dumb as he stands in this clean courtyard, in this immaculate manner on the coastline, in this place that was promised to be safe. The dirt on his skin, his unkempt hair, his tattered clothing, and his aching belly - never had he felt so grubby and unwanted, not even when the shopkeepers chased him away or beat him with brooms. He feels sweeping regret at being the cause of the tension between the Sect Leader and his wife. He should not have come along when ahjussi offered. Ulsan was cold and desolate and unwelcoming to an orphan like him, but Jimin had been able to survive. He could continue to survive there if he had to. 

Jimin manages only a small step back before a wide, warm hand settles on top of his head. His eyes flicker up to see Jeon Bongjun’s tired, kind face. The Sect Leader ignores his wife as she stomps her foot, flicks her electric whip again, and strides away in a fit of anger. Instead, the Sect Leader smiles down at Jimin, resigned but determined. 

“Your parents were very dear friends of mine,” he says, repeating what he had told Jimin in Ulsan after chasing away the hungry dogs ripping into the flesh of Jimin’s legs. “Your father was my sworn brother, and it is my honor and duty to bring you into my home. You will be raised alongside my son and you will learn cultivation. You are safe here and you belong here. Don’t let anyone ever tell you otherwise.”

The words are a balm to Jimin’s heart and he sniffles, quickly dashing away the tears that spill over his eyes. “Ahjussi…”

Nobody has ever treated Jimin so kindly. Perhaps his parents had, but they never returned from the night hunt that winter, and since then, three more winters have passed. In all that time, the most kindness he had ever seen was the blind eye some of the ahjummas had when he picked scraps off the streets. The acceptance from this man is foreign and shocking. And Jimin is so very small and tired. 

Bongjun pats his head. “None of that, now. Just like your mother, you have a face made for smiling. There’s no need to cry.” He pauses, a smile tugging at his mouth. “You may call me samchon, if you wish.”

Jimin nods. He can call this man more familiarly. The permission makes him feel like he belongs in this immaculate place, with all the fragrant hibiscus flowers and flowing purple banners. At this moment, with this kindness, Jimin feels a seed of loyalty take root in his heart. 

Jeon Bongjun. Samchon. Jimin nods again.

“Let me call for a bath and new clothes for you, hmm? And a meal,” Bongjun adds when he hears the urgent grumble of Jimin’s belly. “Then you can meet my son.”

It takes no more than a few minutes for much of Jimin’s new-found hope to fracture. For all that Mugunghwa Pier is a pristine show of the safety afforded by wealth, it is not safe. There are dogs, vile creatures with long, slimy teeth and hot breath and fearsome growls - and they want to rip Jimin apart! 

Jimin shrieks at the first sight of the dogs, falling onto his bottom and scrambling backward, insensible in his panic. He screams and cries and begs and then the barking dogs are gone and Jeon Bongjun is patting his head again. It takes several minutes for Jimin to hear the calm words that are being repeated by the man, rhythmic and slow like a metronome. 

“The dogs are all gone, Jimin. It’s okay. Stop crying.”

Jimin stops crying, but things are very much not okay. It turns out that the dogs that were just sent away - amazingly, removed from the manor altogether - belonged to the Sect Leader’s son, Jeon Jeongguk, a boy two years younger than Jimin. And Jeon Jeongguk is not happy about this development at all. 

Jimin can hear the shrieks of a displeased child throwing a tantrum in the distance. He ducks his chin into the steaming water, eyes falling to the murky, dirt-sheen surface. He listens as Minji, the maid who has been charged with bathing and feeding him, calmly explains the situation, but he still feels guilt twisting through him.

Jimin is very afraid of dogs, but he can learn to be strong! He doesn’t want to cause trouble, especially when it doesn’t seem like Madam Jeon wants him around, either…

“It’s good for a young boy to learn to bend with the world,” Minji says, dipping a cup into the water to rinse Jimin’s hair clean. Her hands are soft but strong, with callouses that speak to years of labor. His tense muscles relax into her ministrations as she strips the dirt from his skin. “Our doryeon-nim is a precocious boy,” she reflects fondly. “But he is kind. Give him time and you will be fast friends.”

Jimin has never had a friend before. In Ulsan, it was all he could do to keep clear of the older boys who lived on the streets - or worse, the children with parents who were unafraid to use their status to push others around. Friend is not something he is familiar with, and he isn’t sure how he’s meant to be friends with someone who is currently so upset with him. 

“Jeon juin-nim will need to have the doctors look at you,” Minji tuts as she cleans the open wounds on his legs. He tries to be good and not flinch from her touch, but the dog bites feel very tender and throb in the warm water. He offers a watery smile anyway because it’s very nice of her to think of his needs so diligently.

Deciding him sufficiently clean, Minji urges him out of the bamboo tub and into soft cotton underclothes. Jimin marvels at the softness of the fabric, at the warmth, and he doesn’t even mind when the socks and shoes given to him are much too large. 

Minji smoothly guides him to a small table in the kitchen, ladling a simple broth into a bowl. His stomach gurgles and cramps with the warm liquid, unused to the strain of fullness. “Tomorrow,” Minji says, patting his messy mouth with a cloth. “If you do well with broth in the morning, we can try rice. You may be able to have fish for dinner. How does that sound, hm?”

Jimin nods, smiling shyly, and lets Minji lead him to the residential quarters of the manor. By now, the sound of a child’s discontent has faded - instead, the sound of raised adult voices comes from another wing. Minji seems to take it all in stride, ushering Jimin through a short hallway and to a door decorated with artful hibiscus motifs. 

“Here you are,” she says, urging him forward. 

Jimin turns to the door with apprehension and hope warring in his heart. He reaches forward to knock, then hesitates, turning to look back at Minji. But Minji is already gone and Jimin must be brave.

He knocks softly. There is no response, so he knocks again, harder this time. Again, no response. Jimin knocks a third time and, with a sudden rush, the door slides open with a great bang and a small, doe-eyed child glares at him.

“You!” Jeon Jeongguk shouts. “It’s your fault my puppies were sent away! What did Bam and Princess and Little Love do to you? It’s your fault! I hate you!”

Jimin’s eyes brim with tears at the abrupt hostility. “I-I’m sorry-”

The little master turns his nose up, appearing very much like his mother. “I don’t care! I want you to go away forever! I want my puppies! Puppies are much better than you!” 

And with that, Jeon Jeongguk slams the door, leaving Jimin in the hallway. Jimin stands for several moments, warm tears on his cheeks, before he shuffles a step backward in shame. 

“I’m sorry,” Jimin says softly. “I’ll leave…”

Yes. Jimin will leave. He has caused strife in this family and he has only been here for less than a day. It’s his fault the Sect Leader and his wife argue, and it’s his fault the sect heir has lost his beloved companions. It would be better for them all if he left. It will be fine. Jimin was doing okay in Ulsan, except for the dogs, but he can learn how to avoid them better. He's almost fast enough to outrun them, so he just needs to get a little stronger!

Determined, Jimin turns away and traces his steps back until he finds himself outside the manor once more. He intends to drift into the greater town of Busan, which is separated from Mugunghwa Pier only by a warded gate, but he must take a wrong turn because he is soon standing on a pier stretching into the ocean. 

Jimin inhales deeply, unused to the brine of the sea thick in the air. His lip quivers at the scent and before he knows it, he’s crouched down at the end of the pier, head buried in his knees with his arms over his head. The cold of the sea breeze is bitter against his clean clothes and damp hair. It’s all he can do to muffle his sobs so that his noisiness doesn’t echo across the sea. He knows from experience that nobody wants to hear a child crying. It’s best to be quiet. 

He isn’t sure how long he stays at the end of that pier, but eventually, his ears prick at a hollow thudding sound behind him. Jimin lifts his head and looks - and there, not too far away, is Jeon Jeongguk, his small arm holding a lantern aloft and his lips drawn into his mouth.

Jimin sniffles.

Jeongguk stares.

And so much larger than either of them can comprehend, the ocean foams and bubbles with lapping waves, the high tide rolling in along with the rise of the silvery moon. The ocean sound fills in the air, and Jimin waits, wondering why the boy who hates him so much is now standing so close. Is Jimin…not allowed on this pier? He didn’t know!

“I-I can…I can swim away, if you want,” Jimin offers weakly. He casts a look at the deep black of the nighttime ocean and the sandy shoreline. He could probably swim for a while. He’s a good swimmer! 

“I’m sorry!” Jeongguk bursts out, his eyes so very round and wide. “I was mean! And I’m really sorry! You don’t have to go!”

Jimin wilts. “But…I made your dogs go away.”

Jeongguk does look rather sad to be reminded of this fact, but he rallies anyway. “When my Bam and Princess and Little Love were taken…Appa said you could be my friend instead. Maybe friends are better than dogs!”

Privately, Jimin thinks just about everything in the world is better than dogs, but…

“You could bring them back,” he says, rubbing his face. “I could just stay away from them.”

Very, very far away. 

But Jeongguk shakes his head. 

Jimin will never know what the little master intends to say, because right at that moment there is a sudden squawk of a nighttime seabird, and Jimin, who had been standing much closer to the edge of the pier than he realized, startles. He startles so badly that he falls backward into the ocean, which pulls him under greedily as cold saltwater invades his nose and mouth. Frantically, Jimin sweeps his limbs, trying to push upward -

But then there is something - someone - grasping at him, hard little hands gripping tight enough to leave bruises. It takes a moment for Jimin to realize that Jeon Jeongguk had jumped into the sea to save him. It takes a moment longer to learn that Jeongguk is valiant, but he is too young to be a strong swimmer, especially during high tide.

He isn’t sure where the strength comes from, but there is a tingling burn in his limbs spreading from his middle, and that tingling burn gives him the energy to latch onto little Jeongguk and drag them both to shore. Jimin heaves salt water and they each spend several minutes hacking, clearing their sinuses of the salty sting of the sea. 

And when they have recovered, they stare at each other in shock, each of them surprised to be alive after a near-brush with certain death. 

Jimin is in a state of disbelief. “You saved me.”

“You saved me!” Jeongguk corrects quickly, black hair plastered to his face, bedtime braid askew. 

“We saved each other…” Jimin compromises haltingly.

Jeongguk looks very sure of himself when he lifts his chin and says, “We saved each other because that’s what friends - no, brothers! - that’s what brothers are supposed to do. Right…hyung?”

Jimin gasps. Hyung! He’s never been anyone’s hyung before! 

“I’m your hyung,” he agrees quickly. “I’m your hyung and I’ll protect you forever!”

Jeongguk holds out his pinky with determination. “We protect each other.”

It’s a promise, a pledge, that Jimin intends to honor for as long as he lives. Because nobody had ever tried to save him before - not when the cost might have been their own lives. 

Yet Jeongguk hadn't hesitated.

And so Jimin will keep this pledge. 

Jimin still can’t believe that his legs are already fully healed! Right before his eyes, the doctor is sealing up his wounds with spiritual energy, which thrums warmly against Jimin’s skin and sinks into his veins. The doctor had looked a little surprised about it but had gamely put away his other instruments when it was clear Jimin wouldn’t need bandages anymore. He would probably always have scars, according to the doctor, but the scars would be very small. In the future, the puckered pink flesh on his legs would become silver with age. 

Jimin is simply glad to no longer be in pain. It’s not very much fun to hurt. 

He swings his legs back and forth, his eyes on the fresh boots on his feet. How wonderful it is to have his feet protected and warm! He is seated on a cot that rises high off the ground, and he hums to himself while the doctor who treated his bite wounds turns to speak with Sect Leader Jeon, who had observed the healing session with keen eyes. 

“He is eight years old? You’re sure?” the doctor checks, as if Jimin is not there to confirm his age himself.

“The letter might have been delayed, but I’m certain of his age. He was born sometime in autumn. Why?” Bongjun’s tone sharpens. “Is he not healthy?”

The doctor sighs. “He’s healthier than I would have expected, given how he was living before. Certainly, other children would have been in worse shape. But this boy…even half-starved, his nascent core is brimming with yang energy. If I didn’t know any better, I would assume he was a few years older, at the least.”

The Sect Leader looks pleased. “He will be a strong cultivator, then. His development won’t be delayed?”

The doctor sounds wry as he says, “I daresay his living circumstances have already delayed him, yet he is still quite strong. I have to wonder just how developed his golden core might have been had he not been struggling for so long. As it is, his core has been working hard to sustain his body on minimal sustenance and protect against infections, and as a result, his physical growth has been somewhat stunted. He might not be as tall or physically strong as his peers, but with a core that developed, there won’t be many disciples who will be his match if he continues to progress at this pace.”

Jimin’s eyes fall to his belly. He doesn’t know much about golden cores, only that cultivators like his appa and eomma had them, and that he should do his best to nurture his. Eomma had taught him how to do this before she and appa disappeared on that night hunt, and Jimin had been doing his best to remember her directions every night since. It’s one of the few things he recalls of his parents at all, actually…

“Our sect places more importance on speed and agility, anyway,” the Sect Leader says dismissively. “Let the Gom Sect and Kkachi Sect produce men the size of mountains. Physical power matters less to cultivators than it does to commoners…”

Jimin’s attention drifts as Minji enters the infirmary with a bowl of broth. She pauses to curtsey to the doctor and Sect Leader, and then comes to offer Jimin the bowl. His nose wrinkles at the sharp medicinal smell and he wants to whine about how bitter it will surely taste, but he thinks better of it. He takes the bowl and sips on the broth, face scrunching at the flavor. 

“I thought it might be bitter,” Minji says in a whisper. She pulls a piece of honey candy out of her pocket. “If you can finish your medicine, you can have this treat.”

Jimin brightens and finishes his bowl very quickly.

Meanwhile, the Sect Leader and doctor continue their discussion. 

“To have such a strong core…There are two possible reasons. The first is that his parents taught him early so he could master basic talismans,” the doctor reasons. “This isn’t unusual for the children of rogue cultivators. To light a fire, to clean water…those are skills that are useful for survival, and responsible parents will teach these skills.”

“Simple talismans are not difficult to manage. Jeongguk is also learning these basics,” the Sect Leader muses. “What of the second reason?”

“It’s possible the boy is simply gifted,” the doctor says. “You know as well as I do that some disciples can condense a golden core more easily than others. This boy has strong, wide meridians, which makes him particularly open to energy. If he was taught even the most basic meditation…”

“I see. Well, given what I know of his parents, both reasons seem likely.”

“Park Jaeyoung was rather gifted,” the doctor recalls.

“He was the best disciple of my generation,” Sect Leader Jeon says with pride. “And Yon was the disciple of the Immortal Wanderer. Her skills were on par with my wife’s, and you know how strong my lady is.”

“With a pedigree like that, it’s not surprising at all that the boy is already so strong,” the doctor agrees. 

Feeling the weight of eyes on him, Jimin looks up from where he is savoring his candy. Jeon Bongjun is looking at him with something like expectation in his expression. 

Jimin smiles. 

The Sect Leader smiles back.

“No, no, no,” Jimin chants, following the trail of little black ants to the hollow floorboard near his bed. He has been living as a ward of the Mugunghwa Sect for a little over a year now, but old habits die hard, and Jimin has yet to cure the urge to tuck food away, just in case. It seems as if the ants have finally caught onto this habit because they have found his stash of dried fruits, jerky, and nuts. 

Jimin bites his lips, feeling utterly distraught. It’s bad enough that the ants have ruined the food, but they have also infested his room - his very own room, which Madam Jeon had insisted on. According to her, there was no reason a sect heir should have to share a room with a mere servant, and so one day Jimin was given his own space.

The room itself is small, a space that had been occupied by a previous household servant who stayed in the family wing when Jeongguk was a baby. But there is enough room for a warm, comfortable bed, a small table for Jimin to pile his notes on, and a chest for his clothes. The room keeps out the sometimes biting breeze from the ocean and shields him from rain and keeps him toasty in the winter. The silk bedding is secondhand and there are scuffs on the dark wooden furniture, but Jimin has never known anything so grand. 

And now Jimin’s bad habits have ruined his room!

“Hyung?”

Jimin jolts, turning around with wide eyes. He tries, rather futilely, to hide his mess with his body, but Jimin is small for his age and Jeongguk is a smart child. “Gguk-ah!”

Jeongguk leans around Jimin’s kneeling form curiously. “What are you doing? Oh.” He pulls a face. “That’s…a lot of ants.”

Jimin hangs his head, shamed.

“Hyung,” Jeongguk says softly, after a long moment of inspecting the stash of food Jimin has painstakingly collected. “It’s okay. You don’t have to be scared of feeling hungry anymore.”

Jimin bites his lips. If only it were that easy. He’s been able to adapt to almost everything when it comes to living in a sect. He enjoys the training disciples undergo and he gets to sit in on Jeongguk’s classes to learn noblemen’s arts often enough that he’s picked up tremendous skills like reading and painting. He has clothes of his own and when he ventures into Busan, none of the shopkeepers chase him away from their stalls. By all means, Park Jimin has become a respectable child, someone who is fit to be the ward of Sect Leader Jeon Bongjun. 

Except for this one nagging fear. Even when he is in town and he passes discarded food on the street that he knows from experience is still good enough to eat, he must stop himself from tucking food away. The urge is hard to resist even when he knows there is a kitchen in the sect that he has permission to visit, just like any other disciple. 

He fears he will not be able to shake this habit. After all, it was hard enough to stop himself from gorging during mealtimes. Only Madam Jeon’s fierce reproaches had cured him of eating until he felt sick.

Jeongguk nudges him. “How about this, hyung? You don’t have to hide food anymore. Instead, I’ll always have a snack for you, so if you’re hungry, just come find me. Okay?”

When Jimin hugs Jeongguk tightly, a few tears escape. Neither of them mentions it. But from that day forward, Jeongguk does indeed have a snack or two up his sleeve just for Jimin. 

“Come on, hyung!” Jeongguk cajoles. “These storytellers only come to Busan once a year and they always tell epic tales! Missing one day of training surely can’t hurt, right?”

Jimin grins. A day is a day - they can make up for it later. “You don’t have to convince me! Let’s go!”

Jimin and Jeongguk slip away into the greater city of Busan, darting through the crowds toward the entertainment district. Busan is so lively and colorful, but no place is more fun than the entertainment district. There, banners in bright colors are hung over dance halls and taverns, and the outdoor dance hall is strung with unlit lanterns. This part of the city is near the beach, so there is always a pleasant breeze on the wind ready to waft the enticing scents from various food stalls.

Short as they are, the boys have an easy enough time slipping to the front of the crowd to get a first-row view of the storytellers. And perhaps it helps that Jeongguk is dressed in the fine clothes of a little master, his dress dyed in the rich purples of the Mugunghwa Sect, the ribbon holding his braids back obviously made of high-quality silk. Jimin is, by contrast, a little less noticeable, with his clothes of deep blue and middling-quality silks. But even so, with a hibiscus bell tassel around his waist, it’s obvious where they come from. 

The Mugunghwa Sect is one with a good reputation among the citizens of Busan, who pay a fair tax to the sect to protect the town from the ghouls that frequently populate the water and the beasts that roam the nearby forests. Each time Jimin comes to town by himself, people recognize his bell and they treat him kindly, sometimes even with a permissible sort of fondness.

With the attitude Busan citizens have toward the sect, it’s no wonder at all that Jimin and Jeongguk get to enjoy the storyteller so closely. 

And what a story it is! Jimin likes the cunning of the rabbit, who saves itself from being eaten by the dragon king, and he goes to tell Jeongguk as much -

A hand falls on his shoulder, the grip firm and immobilizing as a thumb presses into an acupuncture point that renders half of his body numb. A glance to the side tells him that Jeongguk is in a similar situation. Worse still - Jimin recognizes the sleeve pattern as that which belongs to Madam Jeon’s personal maids, who had followed her from her mother sect when she was first married.

Indeed, it’s Saehee who circles around them, pinning them with an equally cold stare. “Jeon ma-nim requests you return and submit to punishment.”

There is no arguing this order. And so Saehee and Eun corral them back to the sect, where they are greeted by Madam Jeon’s fury. 

She is already standing in the front courtyard, her spiritual bracelet sparking with purple lighting around her wrist. The courtyard is empty of servants and disciples, who have all surely scurried away from Madam Jeon’s temper. Jimin would like to scurry too, but Eun’s grip remains hard on his shoulder, even as her sister closes the gates behind them. 

“Jeongguk,” Madam Jeon says sharply. “Come here.”

Jeongguk glances at Jimin hesitantly, but obeys, stepping into his mother’s shadow with his shoulders curled toward his ears.

Madam Jeon reaches for his chin, angling his face up so she can study the pitifulness of his expression. She releases him with a scoff. “Weak child,” she says in clear dismissal, before turning the full force of her aggravation on Jimin. “You! How dare you make Jeongguk miss out on his lessons? Is it not bad enough he’s behind you in every way? You must also do everything you can to sabotage his progress?”

Jimin twists his hands in front of his body. “I didn’t mean…We just wanted to hear the story.”

“Such entertainment is for peasants,” the Madam spits, stalking closer to him. “It’s no surprise that you find them interesting, but Jeongguk is made of better stock. Such activities are beneath him.”

“Eomeoni! It was my idea to see the play,” Jeongguk tries. He takes a few steps before Saehee stops him, holding him back from further approach. Jeongguk looks rather confused as he says, “I wanted to hear the story, so I convinced hyung to skip training-”

Madam Jeon spins to face him, infuriated. “Who’s your hyung?” she demands. She points back at Jimin. “He’s your hyung? He’s your servant!”

“Eomeoni!”

“You hush if you know what’s good for you!”

Jeongguk falls silent, drawing back in shock. His mother has never spoken to him so harshly, although Jimin is beyond accustomed to this attitude. 

“Make him kneel,” Madam Jeon orders in a cold tone. With a flick of her wrist, the bracelet transforms into a long whip of purple lighting. She snaps it against the courtyard stones, and Jimin imagines that even the hibiscus planted nearby shivers in fear. He certainly does as he is forced to his knees by Eun. 

Even though Madam Jeon has called him dumb in the past for his inability to read or write, Jimin is not a stupid child. Not only did he pick up literacy quickly, but he is also intelligent enough to know what is coming. And he knows that there is no stopping it, either. 

In the last year, when the Madam of the sect wanted to punish him, she was always halted by her husband and the punishments were transformed. What might have once been a skipped meal was instead more laps of running. What was a beating with the discipline stick was instead raps with the ruler across his knuckles.

But the Sect Leader is gone from the manor today, off at an annual discussion conference, and there is nobody to stop Madam Jeon this time. Jimin eyes the spiritual whip and wonders if she has been itching to whip him since the day he arrived. The look in her eyes is certainly eager enough.

“Today, you will learn your place,” she tells him ominously.

And then the first whip snaps through the air. The pain is sharp, but delayed - he hears the sound of the second strike long before he feels the pain of the first one bloom across his back. Small as he is, the force sends him from his knees to his hands, bracing himself against the impact of the next strike. He cries out twice before the blood rushes to his ears and the shock of the pain renders him silent. 

“Eomeoni! No!” Jeongguk screams. “No! It was my idea! I made him go! It was me!”

Madam Jeon refuses to listen, raining strike after strike across Jimin’s back. Jimin can only stare at the smooth ground, watching the spittle of his blood stain the stone and the purple lightning cast his quivering frame in shadow.

“You do not take the blame for servants, Jeon Jeongguk! If one misbehaves, you beat him until he understands! And if he can’t understand, you cast him out!” The whip falls again, an arc of lightning and heat blooming over Jimin’s spine. He spasms, jerking hard enough that he falls onto his belly, cheekbone slamming against the ground. “Don’t let an ill-behaved miscreant hold you back! He is worthless and you are worth more! Remember it!”

This punishment, Jimin knows, is just as much for him as it is for Jeongguk. It is to teach a lesson to both of them about Jimin’s place in the world. In this place, even though Jimin and Jeongguk share the heartbond of brothers, they must never forget that Jimin is expendable, whereas Jeongguk is not. They must learn that the mistakes of the master are also the mistakes of the servant. 

Jimin understands. 

Madam Jeon releases a final strike, her heaving breaths filling the courtyard. She glares at him and huffs. “You’re getting blood everywhere,” she tells Jimin. “Clean it up.”

And then she leaves, taking Saehee and Eun with her.

Jimin breathes out shakily. His back muscles are tremoring from the lightning or the pain or both. He has no idea how many times he was whipped, but he thinks if he has to move right at this moment, he might very well die.

Jeongguk falls to his knees, bending close to Jimin with fluttering hands and panicking eyes. “Hyung,” he says brokenly, tears running rivets down his face. “I’m so sorry - I didn’t think she would -”

No, neither of them would have expected this, as young as they are. And being so young, what are they to do?

“I-I’ll go get Minji!” Jeongguk says, scrambling to stand up and dash away to the servant’s quarters. 

Jimin closes his eyes. He can already feel his golden core racing to fuse his skin back together, to stop the bleeding, but he’s only at the intermediate stage in his core development. It doesn’t matter. Madam Jeon didn’t whip him enough to kill him, but she did whip him enough that he would always remember his worth. She intended to scar him to sear this lesson into his body, if not his mind.

But Jimin understands. He’s always understood. And today, he understands even more - because it isn’t so much that Madam Jeon looks down on servants, having two of her own who have been her companions through childhood. It’s that Madam Jeon looks down on Jimin, perhaps truly hates him because of who his mother was and what his mother meant to Jeon Bongjun.

Because Jimin has heard the same rumors Madam Jeon has. Rumors that Jeon Bongjun was in love with Wanderer Yon, but that Wanderer Yon ran away with Bongjun’s closest friend, Park Jaeyoung, the servant-disciple who had grown up beside him. Rumors that said Bongjun only cared to spend so much time looking for Jimin because he was searching for the last remaining piece of Yon on the earth - or worse, that Jimin was not his father’s son, but rather the lovechild of free-spirited Yon and the Sect Leader who was stuck in an arranged marriage. 

Rumors can be so cruel, especially when they strike at the deepest fears of a jealous woman. 

And Jimin is the one who must bear these consequences

“You whipped him into unconsciousness!” a voice thunders, drawing Jimin from the dark tunnel of sleep. “And with a spiritual whip, no less!”

“And so what? It’s what the little bastard deserves for distracting our son! Or are you mad that it wasn’t Jeongguk who was punished?”

“I was told it was Jeongguk’s idea!”

“And so what if it was? This bastard still allowed Jeongguk to neglect his duties, and he deserved the punishment that was given!”

“Hyebin! Madam of the sect or not, this has gone too far! You can’t punish a child so cruelly-”

“You listen to me, Jeon Bongjun. You brought that bastard into my home, you raise him alongside my son, and you tell me that he is not yours. But then you have a problem with how I treat the son of a servant!”

“The son of my best friend! The son of my sworn brother!”

“Park Jaeyoung was a servant too! He was lucky to be granted disciple status, but he was always a servant! And so his son will also be a servant and he will be treated like a servant! Unless…you’re telling me you don’t want him treated as such because he truly is your bastard!"

“He isn’t!”

A scoff. “You’re a foolish man. Foolish to believe this won’t cause trouble. To raise the son of a servant as your own, to elevate him as your ward and allow him to be treated like a young master - just what do you think will happen? He is a servant, and yet he is not, but he is above other servants and so cannot be treated as one?”

Silence.

“I thought as much. Now that you understand, don’t interfere with his punishment again.”

“...Just go. We will discuss this later.”

An irritated huff, the slam of a sliding door, and silence once again. Relief sweeps through Jimin, his muscles relaxing.

“How bad is it?”

“Ah, Sect Leader…” A sigh. “The damage is…it could have been worse. I’m not sure if Jeon ma-nim held back or if the boy’s core worked very hard to save his life. He will live. But the scars…”

“Men have scars. This isn’t a huge deal.”

“As you say.”

“What of his spiritual energy? Hyebin’s whip has been known to damage meridians before.”

“There are some meridians that have been bruised, and some that have already scarred. He is young enough that some of this damage can be compensated for as he strengthens his core. But there are no significant repercussions.”

“Good.”

Caught as he is in medicated slumber, the bitter tang of medicinal broth on his tongue, Jimin still feels unsettled. His heart is heavy. 

He doesn’t know why. 

The Mugunghwa Sect of Busan is known for many things. Perhaps the most famous is the wealth of hibiscus flowers, which bloom all across the city in shades of pink, violet, and deep purple. These flowers are the symbol of the sect and can be found as a motif sewn into the hems of durumagi, or worn from the waist as the Mugunghwa Clarity Bell, a norigae given to all disciples who are old enough to practice the sword. Hibiscus flowers are so very embedded into the sect that even the dyes used by the main clan and outer disciples are all in the deep, majestic shade of the rare purple petals that are found only this far south. 

But the sect is also known for other things. The free-spirited nature of its disciples, which honors the founder of the sect who was once a rogue cultivator. The fluid sword forms, which reflect the flexibility of the ocean and waterways flowing through the sect’s territory. And the archery skills shared by the disciples, which are second to none in the cultivation world. 

The Sect Leader himself tutors the disciples in archery, starting from the earliest ages. It is a point of pride for the Mugunghwa Sect that, unlike other great sects, their Sect Leader takes an active role in teaching disciples. 

Although Jimin is now ten, he has been too physically weak to partake in archery training, which usually begins when disciples are eight or nine. Like many other aspects of his physical training, Jimin has had to wait until he was rehabilitated from his time living on the streets. He has instead spent the last two years catching up on other skills, learning the foundation of cultivation, and building his core as much as he can. But even for his delays, Jimin thinks it’s nice that he can learn alongside Jeongguk. His sword training also has him training with Jeongguk. He likes that they can be equal in their cultivation path. 

Now fully recovered from his punishment under Madam Jeon, Jimin is finally healthy enough to learn. He has been looking forward to archery training for days, excitedly discussing the event with Jeongguk. They even snuck down to the archery field yesterday to watch their seniors sink arrow after arrow into bullseyes. Some of the seniors even struck down moving kites, a game Mugunghwa disciples play to test who is the most talented. 

Jimin watches with bright eyes as Bongjun kneels behind Jeongguk, patiently correcting his form. Jeongguk sticks his tongue out and closes one eye, inhales at his father’s direction, and then releases the arrow. His aim is nearly perfect already, so Jimin thinks Jeongguk must be truly gifted. 

“You’re amazing, Jeongguk-ah! So amazing!” Jimin cheers. 

Jeongguk giggles, his nose scrunching up. Bongjun hands him another arrow and stands, observing as Jeongguk takes a few more shots. Jeongguk never quite hits the center mark, but it is still impressive that he has gotten so far after only working with his father for an hour. 

Seemingly satisfied, Bongjun ruffles Jeongguk’s hair and praises him warmly. “You’re very impressive, Jeongguk. Go, drink some water while I work with Jimin.”

Jeongguk scampers off and Jimin tries to hold in his excitement. He’s been as quiet and still as possible, gripping his training bow tightly to restrain himself. It’s been very hard - but now it’s his turn!

Bongjun smiles at him and motions for him to get in position. He does not kneel behind him as he had with Jeongguk, but he does tap at Jimin’s elbow and adjusts his fingers to hold the bow more delicately. 

“Pull your arm back more,” the Sect Leader instructs when Jimin’s first two attempts fail. “Aim higher. Now, clear your mind and focus on the target. Inhale as you center your aim, and exhale as you fire.”

Inhale. Aim. Exhale. Fire. Jimin pulls as hard as he can on the bowstring and releases the arrow with a gust of air - and his jaw drops when his arrow hits the center red mark. 

“Very good,” Bongjun says. “You’ll be skilled in the future.”

“Wow!” Jeongguk marvels. “Hyung, you hit the center! I didn’t even manage that!”

Jimin laughs, his face warm. “Can I try again?”

But Bongjun doesn’t hear him. Instead, his attention has been drawn to the furious presence standing at the mouth of the training yard. Madam Jeon is glaring at them coldly, while a servant girl smiles nervously. 

“Jeon juin-nim,” the maid says. “Sect Leader Kim of the Kkachi Sect has arrived. He says he must speak with you immediately.”

“Of course,” Bongjun says, striding off without a second glance back. The maid glances at Madam Jeon wearily, and then swiftly follows after the master of the manor. 

His departure leaves Madam Jeon alone with the two boys, who both shrink into themselves as she comes nearer. Jimin because he is fearful of the madam, and Jeongguk because he is fearful of what the madam might do to Jimin. 

“So, another thing you’re good at,” she sneers. “I see the Sect Leader gave you individual tutelage, too.”

“Abeoji taught me first,” Jeongguk says. “Jimin-hyung only just started…”

Madam Jeon laughs. “Is that supposed to be better? Do you want a servant to be better than you?” she snaps at him, then turns to glare fiercely at Jimin. “See how it is? With you around, does anyone pay attention to my son?”

Fortunately, Madam Jeon storms off before saying anything else. Still, Jeongguk looks down morosely and Jimin feels rather helpless.

“Do you think eomeoni is right? Am I not as good? Abeoji worked with me for so long and I only got a little close to the center, but you…”

“I got lucky!” Jimin says quickly. “I bet I couldn’t do it again!”

Jeongguk gives him a very skeptical look. The skepticism isn’t unearned - Jimin does pick up skills faster than others. He builds his core faster than others. He memorizes writings and talisman designs faster than others, too. But can he help how fast his mind moves? He can’t.

But it hurts to see Jeongguk so sad. Usually, Jeongguk can brush off the comparisons. For all that Madam Jeon insists Jimin is favored by the Sect Leader, she doesn’t witness how much time Bongjun spends training Jeongguk and answering Jeongguk’s questions. At most, the Sect Leader entertains Jimin’s curiosity and treats him well. But he does not treat Jimin as he does Jeongguk. 

Yet Jimin can’t fix this. Madam Jeon is determined to see things her way and hurt everyone who disagrees. Today, the collateral damage had been her own son. Tonight, Jimin is sure he will suffer in some way, and there is little anyone can do about it. 

For now, how can Jimin put the smile back on Jeongguk’s face? He taps his bottom lip thoughtfully, then grins with a conspiratorial twinkle in his eye.

“You know,” he drawls, nudging his shoulder against Jeongguk’s. “I think Jeon ma-nim was wrong.”

Jeongguk frowns at him, then looks over his shoulder, as if someone was listening. Seeing nobody around, he leans in closer. “Wrong?”

“Think about it,” Jimin says. “It’s not bad if I’m a little better at some things, right? After all, the better I am, the better I can protect you. That’s how it should be if I’m your right hand.”

Jeongguk’s brows draw together at this reasoning.

“Am I wrong?” Jimin challenges. He nudges Jeongguk again. “You’re going to be the Sect Leader one day and I’ll be right beside you, just the same way my father was right beside yours. So, of course, I need to be just a little bit faster and stronger! It’s the only way to watch your back.”

Jeongguk turns his deep violet doe eyes up at Jimin. “Do you promise?”

Jimin holds his hand up in a salute. “I swear!”

Jeongguk smiles, his nose scrunching as he slaps his hand against Jimin’s. “Alright! You swore, so you can’t ever go back on it!

“Yah! I always keep my promises!” Jimin smiles widely, holding his arms out. “Remember, I promised to hug you every day and now, look at the sun! It’s time for your hug!”

Jimin leaps and Jeongguk dashes away. They’re of a height, although Jeongguk keeps weight on far more easily than Jimin and is clearly intent on growing faster, too. This means that they are evenly matched as they dash around the archery yard, bows discarded as Jimin chases after Jeongguk with the threat of a playfully tight hug.

Jimin is fast enough to catch Jeongguk soon and he wraps his arms around the younger boy, tight like an octopus even though Jeongguk squirms and whines. 

“I’m hungry,” Jeongguk complains. “Let me go!”

Jimin perks up at the mention of food. He’s hungry too, now that he thinks about it. He waits as Jeongguk digs around in his sleeves, pulling out two slightly crushed yakgwa. He makes a face but hands the butterfly-designed honey cookie to Jimin. “We should go to the kitchens,” he says around his mouthful.

Jimin nods, cheeks stuffed full. He has yet to stop his habit of eating so quickly. Jeongguk, predictably, pokes at his cheeks as they meander from the archery field toward the greater manor. 

Given Madam Jeon’s ire, there are only a few routes they can take to completely avoid her. Knowing she might either be in her dedicated wing or in the pavilion on the eastern pier that overlooks the ocean, the boys opt to circle around the greeting hall. From there, it’s nearly a straight shot back to the kitchens where they can beg off early portions of their dinner from the kind cooks. 

Only, both boys have forgotten that Bongjun is in a meeting with another Sect Leader, seemingly on urgent business since the meeting was spontaneous. Indeed, the boys slow down when they hear the raised voices coming from the greeting hall and, exchanging wide-eyed looks, silently agree to creep under the window eaves outside to listen in. After all, they are young and curious, and it isn’t every day something like this happens!

Jimin peeks through the window, the rice paper screen lifted to let the breeze into the hall. Inside, Bongjun is speaking with a giant of a man dressed in deep green and gleaming copper. There is an elaborate sangtuwan over the man’s tight topknot, the black leather decorated by a hammered copper magpie with emerald stones for eyes. Jimin tries to remember - which Sect Leader was this?

“Kkachi Sect?” Jeongguk breathes.

Ah, right. Kkachi Sect, a fierce sect known for its large sabers, volatile tempers, and leagues of soldier-disciples. Jimin eyes the wide saber strapped to the Kkachi Sect Leader’s back and shivers. He can’t imagine lifting anything that heavy. 

“-took out an entire group, Bongjun! A whole contingent of my disciples on a night hunt in my own territory! And do you know what the explanation was?” the Kkachi Sect Leader questions angrily. “There was a ‘disagreement on how to slay the wolf-beast! What disagreement could there be? Slay the damn thing!”

Sect Leader Jeon is frowning mightily. “That is concerning, Taeyong-ssi. The Gom Sect…why were they in your territory to begin with?”

The other Sect Leader scoffs. “Said they were on their own night hunt and didn’t realize they had stepped into KKachi land. As if they couldn’t feel the wards!”

Bongjun draws in a deep sigh. “The Gom Sect…”

“They’re out of control! Lee Chungwoo annexed two minor sects this year alone, absorbing their able-bodied fighters into his ranks. I’m telling you, he’s encroaching on my territory, and next, it will be everyone else. The Lee Clan wants to take over the cultivation world!”

“Is it that extreme?”

“I have thirteen dead disciples, Bongjun-ssi,” the other Sect Leader seethes.

“What would you have us do? The Gom Sect is larger than most of the great sects put together,” Bongjun says with some frustration. “You want to go to war with them? We would be wiped out.”

“We are being wiped out - slowly and methodically. Something has to be done! We need to prevent disaster!”

Bongjun rubs tiredly at his face. “...Well then, we could invite the other sects to have a meeting off the books. My wife, she wants to arrange a marriage for our son. The engagement party…we could use that as a cover. The Gom Sect declines most invitations anyway…”

Jimin and Jeongguk look at each other in shock. Engagement? What engagement? And war? Jimin lifts his brows and taps Jeongguk’s shoulder repeatedly, urging him on. Quickly, they go to Jeongguk’s room, bypassing the kitchens in favor of discussing the major news they just learned. 

“Do you really think the sects will go to war?” Jimin worries.

“Do you really think I’m going to be engaged?” Jeongguk whines.

The boys grimace, hunkering down around Jeongguk’s study table, which is organized with scrolls, brushes, and fresh paper for note-taking. Jeongguk is much neater than Jimin, who has notes spilled across most of his room or gathered into untidy stacks.

“War would be bad,” Jimin says after a while, folding a loose bit of paper into a simple flower. “Commoners never do well when there is war…”

Jeongguk shakes his head helplessly. 

Jimin hopes there won’t be war. He also hopes Jeongguk won’t be engaged so young. Jimin may be new to the gentry class, but he’s heard enough from common people to know that arranged marriages are seldom happy. It would be awful if Jeongguk had to marry someone he didn’t even like. 

“Who would you even marry?” Jimin muses with a frown. He thinks of their lessons about the clans, the current sect leaders and heirs. “Right now, all the heirs of the great sects are boys, and there are only a few minor sects with eligible daughters.”

“No girls!” Jeongguk bleats. “Girls are…scary.”

“Could you marry a boy?” Jimin asks, the idea utterly foreign to him. “Is that allowed?”

Jeongguk shrugs. “I think so?”

But Jeongguk doesn’t look so sure and Jimin doesn’t know, either. Maybe they could ask Minji about it. Minji always seems to know something new about the world and Jimin dearly values her insights. He’ll track her down later and ask. 

“If you can marry a boy,” Jimin starts. “I wonder who it will be?” 

Jeongguk lays his head on the table. “Hopefully someone nice with good fighting skills…” He seems to be thinking hard. “And maybe someone pretty. Someone who talks good, because I’m not great at that. And good with money, because abeoji says it’s good to be smart with your purse.”

Jimin laughs. “It sounds like you want to be married, Gguk-ah!”

Jeongguk covers his head with his arms. “Not now!”

“Aha! But in the future?” Jimin teases.

“Hyung!”

Over the next few years, there is no talk of war. But the possibility of Jeongguk’s engagement is one that becomes a reality. Madam Jeon spends months working with matchmakers and sending letters out to the major sects. Her attention is so devoted to securing a good match for Jeongguk that she barely spares any mind to Jimin, and without that pressure, Jimin blooms - both in his training and in his personality. 

Now, Jimin smiles and laughs and teases with the ease of the tides. He pulls silly pranks on the manor servants, cozies up to the ahjummas in the kitchens, and follows ahjussis around Busan, doing odd-jobs to work out some of his physical energy - and earn a few coins, which he then uses to spoil his fellow disciples with. Jimin feels that this is important since he spends so much of his training time beating the others into the dirt, his training sword at their throats faster and faster each time. It's the least he can do to compensate with treats from the market!

Cultivation comes easily to Jimin. He is very agile and quick to learn, both in mind and body. Sword forms, archery, and martial arts are things he revels in. He marvels at how strong his body is, at how far he can push it, and how quickly it can heal thanks to the bloom of yang energy in his golden core. And while he isn't fond of sitting still and silent to meditate, he does it dutifully anyway and condenses his golden core faster than any of the other disciples his age.

But what Jimin truly loves is learning how to use that yang energy in new ways. He thrives in talismanic theory, mind turning over new ways to apply radicals or break up characters to bend the very nature of the world with his will. His knowledge of talismans quickly outstrips his tutors, and he is given a free pass on these lessons, much to Jeongguk’s envy. Jimin takes this as permission to experiment, but after one accident that nearly turned his room to ashes, Madam Jeon forbids him from experimenting within the manor.

Jimin is fine taking his experiments outside! He’s just glad to have avoided her wrath since, fortunately, the Madam’s attention was called away by letters related to Jeongguk’s engagement. She forgot all about punishing him! And anyway, it’s better to have more space. Some of his talisman ideas require extensive testing. 

When Jimin is in the mood to invent, Jeongguk makes himself scarce. He can’t keep up with Jimin’s thought processes, but then, Jeongguk’s interests lie elsewhere. Driven by a competitive fire burning within, Jeongguk dedicates himself to his physical cultivation. Jimin hopes he isn’t so driven because he believes Madam Jeon’s venom that continually tries to drive a wedge between them - but he’s too wary to ask, and leaves the issue be. Besides, Jeongguk often uses the excuse to train to get out of talk about his engagement, which he is alternatively hopeful and nervous about. 

And then, when Jimin is fourteen and Jeongguk is twelve, news arrives from the Jasujeon Sect of Gwancheon. It’s an acceptance letter from Madam Kim Eunhee, agreeing to betroth her youngest son to Jeongguk. Kim Seokjin will marry into the Mugunghwa Sect when Jeongguk comes of age. 

Madam Jeon is very pleased with the match. Apparently, Madam Kim is a close friend from Madam Jeon’s childhood, so the betrothal provides a certain closeness and a political advantage to both sects. The merchants supporting the Jasujeon Sect will be able to trade with the fishermen supporting the Mugunghwa Sect, and the alliance between the two great sects provides a certain amount of protection in uncertain times. 

Jeongguk’s reaction to the news is complicated. On the one hand, he seems relieved to finally know his future spouse, and on the other, he seems intimidated. 

“Haven’t you heard of Kim Seokjin?” he asks lowly, fidgeting as he and Jimin and the rest of their sect waits to welcome the Jasujeon Sect entourage from Gwancheon. It will be the first official visit to cement the betrothal. “He’s older than me - older than you, too! And they say he’s the most beautiful doryeong...”

Jimin does not pay much attention to this type of gossip. He does know that young masters of marriageable age are ranked on a list of talent and beauty, and he imagines that Jeongguk will be on that list in a few short years. But since it is not a matter of cultivation, Jimin tends to forget it even exists. 

“Is he old enough to be called samchon? Ow!” Jimin rubs his arm. “It’s a fair question!”

“Not that much older,” Jeongguk gripes. 

“Well, you’re the one who said-”

“But I didn’t mean-”

“Quiet,” Madam Jeon hisses. She glares at Jimin, then hauls Jeongguk forward by the elbow. “Stand here and be dignified. The carriage is nearly here. Greet your betrothed properly, not like an unmannered bastard.”

Jimin shifts a step back, watching everything from a respectable distance. A servant’s distance, only not really since he’s a ward and technically part of the main clan. Yet, this is how Madam Jeon prefers it, so he tries to be as unobtrusive as possible. He does not even wear the same shades of purple as the other disciples or the main clan. Instead, Jimin's clothes are always dyed in tones of blue, or sometimes black, just so he is reminded of his place. 

The carriage that arrives is ostentatious, gilded in gold, and carrying trunks of betrothal gifts. It’s only after these trunks are laid out for Madam Jeon’s inspection that Jeongguk’s betrothed steps out of the carriage. 

Jimin’s first impression of Kim Seokjin is shiny. Nearly eye-wateringly so. 

Indeed, the Jasujeon Sect is the richest of all the great sects, and it can clearly be seen in the way the youngest son is dressed. There is nothing practical about the wide golden yellow sleeves of his durumagi or the precious stones gleaming on his elaborate sangtuwan. Even the sword at his hip is set with crystals and gold. 

Kim Seokjin is tall and disarmingly handsome with soft brown hair, gentle-looking eyes, and full lips. But he also seems distant and vaguely displeased, his expression somewhat pinched as he completes his greeting bows. He must be two or so years older than Jimin. It seems a little unfair that Seokjin will have to wait so long to be married since Jeongguk will not be of marriageable age for several more years.

Jeongguk performs his welcoming bow and Seokjin stiltedly agrees to a tour of the sect, never making direct eye contact. Jimin presses his lips together. He can see Jeongguk deflate as Madam Jeon leads Seokjin away, tossing a withering glare over her shoulder at her son and, inexplicably, Jimin.

“What do you think?” Jimin asks when he and Jeongguk are left alone. 

“I think being engaged is stressful,” Jeongguk says with all the world-weariness a twelve-year-old can have.

“Well,” Jimin says at length. “I don’t know about nice, but with a sword like that, he must have good fighting skills. How else could he possibly lift that thing? What about your other requirements, Gguk-ah? Pretty face, he’s reasonably polite so he’s probably good with words. Ah, but he’s from the Jasujeon Sect, so he’s probably not frugal-”

Jeongguk shoves his arm. “Shut up!” He’s scowling, but his face is also pink. Before, he couldn’t seem to look at Kim Seokjin for more than three seconds before diverting his gaze. It’s just too bad that Seokjin barely looked at Jeongguk at all. 

Later that day, when Jeongguk is with his parents and his betrothed doing…betrothal things, Jimin excuses himself to the remote pier he’d claimed as his own. It’s far enough from the manor to satisfy Madam Jeon, but it’s not close enough to any other piers for Jimin’s experiments to startle fishermen. He has even hung a wooden plaque at the head of the dock to claim the territory, so it’s very much how own space.

Recently, he’s been fixated on the idea of a warming stone that will keep rooms warm in the winter without the risk of causing a fire. He’s surprised that nobody had thought about applying a warming talisman this way, but then, cultivators seldom think about ways their magic can make the lives of the common people easier. Jimin, on the other hand, has lived through bitterly cold winters with nothing but his own shivering to warm him, and he’s seen enough winter fires burn down homes to know that cold people will go to foolish lengths to be warm. A warming stone, however, could theoretically put out enough heat to warm a room without catching anything on fire. And, if the talisman drew from ambient yang energy in the air, even non-cultivators could use it!

It’s just - well. As fascinating as talismans are, it can be difficult to invent new ones. It doesn’t help that the teachers of his sect have run out of resources, or that the resources they have offer only a basic understanding of talismanic arts. And so Jimin must figure things out for himself.

At least he has ample opportunity to learn. For every failure, he learns something new about talismans or tucks a new idea away to fiddle around with in the future. 

Jimin finishes applying the talisman to the stone and steps back a good distance, watching the stone closely as it heats from a cold grey to a warm burgundy. From where he stands, he can feel the heat in the air and he smiles, believing he finally tweaked the talisman correctly. Only - cracks start forming in the stone, which changes from burgundy to angry red, the stone vibrating with excess energy -

Jimin ducks down, covering his head when the stone explodes, the high heat disintegrating the shards as a mushroom of hot energy spreads across the pier. And surprisingly, from behind him, Jimin hears someone make a shocked noise, followed by a splash. 

Jimin turns around, gaping at the image of Kim Seokjin bobbing in the ocean like a half-drowned peacock. Seokjin coughs, expelling water from his lungs, and Jimin rushes to offer him a hand. Together, they haul him back onto the pier.

“What are you doing here?” Jimin asks, utterly bewildered. Since his back was turned away from the head of the pier, he didn’t see Seokjin coming. He doesn’t understand why Seokjin is here, instead of spending time with Jeongguk like he’s supposed to. He squints at the older boy, suspicious of him.

Seokjin sputters. “What am I doing here? What are you doing? What was that?”

“Experimenting with talismans,” Jimin answers. “Didn’t you see the sign?”

Seokjin narrows his eyes. “You can’t just do that sort of thing without warning, you know!”

“There’s a sign!”

“Well, how was I supposed to know that thing would explode?” Seokjin huffs, turning his face away. “Of all the things…Dangerous experiments! Are you even old enough to fool around with talismans? You look even younger than…Well, you look young.”

Jimin rolls his eyes. “My apologies, doryeon-nim, that my sign didn’t specifically mention explosions. Although, when there are experiments, explosions should really be expected.”

“You!” Seemingly done talking to Jimin, Seokjin stands up and flips his hair back. The haughty gesture is ruined by his dripping clothes. 

Jimin laughs, finding it all quite funny. He’ll have to tell Jeongguk that his betrothed is a bit prissy, actually. That’ll be loads of fun later. Prissy people are the best people to prank, if anyone asks him. 

Jimin is, unfortunately, still laughing when Madam Jeon, her two maids, and Jeongguk show up. He can admit that the situation doesn’t look good - Jimin laughing so boisterously and Seokjin soaked to the bone with obvious displeasure. Even though Jimin stops laughing as soon as he sees Madam Jeon, he knows it won’t be enough to curb her anger. 

“Park Jimin!” she yells, her bracelet sparking with lightning. “What have you done? What trouble have you caused me now? You stupid boy!”

“Jeon ma-nim, it was an accident,” Jimin tries to explain. “I didn’t know Kim Seokjin doryeon-nim was around and he was startled when-”

“So it was something you did!” Madam Jeon concludes. She strides right up to him and slaps him across the face with the back of her hand. She doesn’t pull any of her strength, so the taste of blood blooms in his mouth immediately. “You’re always ruining something!”

“Eomeoni!” Jeongguk protests. 

“Jeon ma-nim,” Seokjin cuts in, his expression shocked. “It truly was an accident. I didn’t announce my presence and I didn’t realize this disciple was conducting an experiment.”

“See, eomeoni? Hyung didn’t mean to-”

Madam Jeon scoffs. “Who’s your hyung? He’s the son of a servant, not your peer! Call him brother again and see what I’ll do!” she challenges. Then, she turns a hard eye on Seokjin. “And you. I’m surprised you would even care what happens to a servant that isn’t even yours.”

Seokjin is quiet, but there is a tension on his face that betrays him. Jeongguk is pale, struck silent by the events. And Jimin dares not move, dares not draw Madam Jeon’s attention to him again.

“Both of you should take this as a lesson,” Madam Jeon says, turning on her heel. “Save your compassion for those who deserve it.”

Tension winds from Jimin’s chest as soon as Madam Jeon and her maids disappear from sight. He rubs his cheek with a wince, but he can sense his golden core is already healing him. By nighttime, there probably won’t even be a bruise. A lighter punishment, all things considered. 

“Hyung? Are you…”

Jimin grins, ignoring the throb in his cheek. “Ah, are you worried, Gguk-ah? Why are you so worried about me when your betrothed is standing in his own puddle?”

Jeongguk turns his wide eyes to Seokjin, his face rapidly turning red. “Oh! You - are you okay, uh, Seokjin doryeon-nim? I could - well, that is, there are spare clothes - or I could -”

Seokjin holds his hand up, halting Jeongguk’s bumbling speech. “I’m fine, thank you. Excuse me,” he says, holding himself stiffly as he makes to leave. Before he does, he looks at Jimin with a frown, but he doesn’t say anything else.

Jeongguk watches him leave with a wistful sigh. “He’s so composed.”

Jimin laughs, hooking his arm around Jeongguk’s neck. “Let me tell you, he wasn’t so composed when he fell into the ocean! You should have seen his face!”

 “He fell in? Oh, that’s so…” Jeongguk covers his face. ”Do you think he’ll cancel the engagement?”

Jimin lifts his brows. “What, you actually want to marry him?”

Jeongguk avoids his gaze.

“Ah, look at my dongsaeng!” Jimin giggles. “Are you in love? Are you utterly devoted? Well, he’s somewhat decent, I’ll give him that. But he isn’t very observant. He didn’t even see my sign!”

“Somewhat decent?” Jeongguk repeats incredulously. “He’s perfect! How will I ever be a match for him? He’s so tall and you should have heard how well he praised our disciples! And what sign?”

Jimin’s lips twitch. “On second thought, maybe you’re made for each other.”

Jimin is granted the status of head disciple and receives his personal sword on the same day. 

The sword is named Jangnan, the characters of the name glinting in cool blue spiritual energy along the blade the first time he unsheaths it. The blade is double-edged at his request, making it unique among his sect. The sheath itself is much simpler than others he has seen, but the quality of the black leather and the exquisiteness of the flowing design on the hilt are undeniable. When Jimin wields Jangnan, he can almost hear his spirit sing - and when he takes to the air, balancing gracefully on the blade, he feels free. 

Although he has been a ward for several years, although he has made a place for himself, although he has found acceptance in Jeongguk and Jeon Bongjun and his fellow disciples - it is this day that Jimin feels like he belongs. Not just in the sect, but in the world. He has a place he has earned through skill and talent. He has a home.

He decides, right then and there, that he will do everything he can to protect it. 

Chapter Text

Seokjin enters the greeting hall of Jasujeon Tower with his head held high. The opulence of his clan manor is not lost on him, particularly after visiting the more humble Mugunghwa Sect in the south - the sect he would marry into one day when his betrothed is no longer a doe-eyed juvenile. Seokjin can’t help but compare the gilded gold of his home, the polished marble and bronze mirrors, to the dark gleaming woods and artisanal luxury of the sect he is returning from. He wonders if being away from this flamboyant elegance has made him miss it or detest it more.

As he enters, a dozen servants bow in silence. This, too, is another difference. In the south, the servants greet their masters with quiet words, nearly reverent. Here, the servants scurry around, mice locked in a viper pit. He can’t say he prefers it this way. 

“Ah, so the little jewel has returned!” his eldest brother, Kim Sangsik, greets with an unbecoming taunt. “How was your child-bride? Or are you the bride since you’re the one marrying in? How was your child-groom?”

Seokjin ignores his brother and bows in greeting to his father. Kim Kyongsoo is a shrewd man, oily with politic smiles and calculating stares, and he studies Seokjin closely. “Answer your brother,” he orders.

Seokjin presses his lips together. What can be said about Jeon Jeongguk? 

He’s still young, little more than a child, and too babyish to assess well. Seokjin had been afforded the opportunity to see his betrothed spar and he is already quite skilled, so there is that. Most likely, the boy will be a good cultivator in the future, and Seokjin will respect that, if nothing else. 

But Jeongguk also seems to be stifled in his environment due to the overbearing nature of his mother - although, that is something Seokjin can understand. After all, it was pressure from his eomeoni that had him agreeing to a betrothal to a boy five years his junior, wasn’t it? Perhaps, Seokjin thinks wryly, they can bond over that in the future. 

Overall, his biggest impression of Jeongguk is his big, round, purple-toned eyes and his clear desire to do his best in any given situation. It’s not a bad impression, but it’s also not what Kim Kyongsoo will want to hear. His father could care less about Seokjin's feelings; he cares more about the potential trade and political benefits. Seokjin is nothing more than a piece on a game board.

“The betrothal will go forward. I have no objections,” Seokjin says. “The south is pleasing.”

“But surely not as pleasing as the north,” prompts his second brother smoothly. A subtle reminder to remember who to be loyal to, as if Seokjin would ever be able to forget.

His second brother is someone to be wary of, for Kim Sangwoo is ambitious and has the same political skillset as their father. Slippery, like a snake. However, Sangwoo is not as favored as Seokjin or Sangsik. Sangwoo was born to a prostitute and has only been legitimized recently, and in the eyes of others, this makes him lesser.

Truly, Seokjin couldn’t give a damn about Sangwoo’s background, although he knows people in Jasujeon Tower titter about it in the shadows. There is no shame in a woman who survives by working in a brothel. It is the men who frequent these establishments who should bear the shame - and indeed, that Kim Kyungsoo would sow oats while he already has a wife is beyond contempt. Worse still, Sangwoo is only a few weeks older than Seokjin, which meant his father dishonored his marriage while his mother was already pregnant. Yet it is the mistress and illegitimate son who bear the shame, and it is Seokjin’s mother who must hold her head high. 

None of this colors Seokjin’s impression of his second brother. Circumstances of birth are far beyond anyone’s control. No, Seokjin’s caution of Sangwoo is much simpler.

Seokjin doesn’t know his second brother well, but he does know his father - and for Kyungsoo to elevate Sangwoo, the price must have been high. High enough to blacken a soul. 

There is a reason why Seokjin focuses on cultivation and tries to stay below his father’s notice. He must be competent, but not so competent to be anything more than an insignificant pawn. It’s Seokjin’s hope that his betrothal will be his most important role. He can live as a political advantage - he cannot live as Sangwoo does, at beck and call, ready to do anything for a grain of approval.

Seokjin is nearly seventeen, but he already knows that desperate men with ambition are the most dangerous of all. It’s his goal to stay out of Sangwoo’s way, lest he is caught up in a conspiracy. This desire is one of the main reasons he had agreed to the betrothal when his mother proposed it - a survival instinct, one that itches in the back of the brain when the shadows start to move. 

His eldest brother, unfortunately, is too simple-minded to recognize the danger creeping behind him, and Seokjin knows that one day, Sangsik will no longer be heir of the sect. Although their father favors Sangsik in public, Seokjin has heard enough chatter from the servants to know that Sangwoo spends the most time with the Sect Leader, carrying out mysterious tasks. And Seokjin is not blind to the way political dealings had inexplicably started going his father’s way once Sangwoo was legitimized.

Sangwoo is moving in the shadows. So Seokjin will stay in the light with his eyes open. 

“Home is, of course, my most cherished place. But the south will be my home one day,” he answers carefully, offering a placid smile to his second brother.

Sangwoo dimples at him, the black gat on his head bowing as he nods in agreement. “This brother is satisfied, then, that you will enjoy your new home.”

The words are pleasant and the tone is gratuitous, but Seokjin must suppress a shiver all the same. He can’t help but hear the unspoken threat. 

Sangsik makes another off-color joke about Seokjin’s impending marriage and Kyungsoo dismisses Seokjin soon after. Seokjin escapes gladly. 

By the time he has returned to his rooms, he is exhausted from the trip. He had flown back with disciples who were strong enough to ride the sword, stopping only once to rest at an inn overnight. His energy is sapped, but worries still pry at the edge of his mind. 

He is the third son of a powerful sect. His first brother is the heir and his second brother will be the next to inherit. Seokjin is marrying out because his claim to the sect seat is remote with two older brothers and a father in his prime. It has to be enough. 

For a moment, he fiercely wishes that Jeon Jeongguk was already old enough to wed. To escape this viper pit even a day sooner would be a blessing.

“I have heard this village hosts an enchanting fairy statue,” Sect Leader Lee Chungwoo says with an oily smile, and Namjoon’s eomma’s hands tremble slightly as she pours tea for their sect leader. His mother is a surgeon, though, so the tremor is not too noticeable. Namjoon only sees because the subtle tension in the air has made him hyper-aware.

“I’m intrigued by the stories," the Sect Leader continues. "They say this fairy statue can alleviate anger and hopelessness. They say depressed widows come here to seek comfort.”

Namjoon watches as his appa smiles benignly. “Indeed, our statue is a kind fairy who calms the hearts of many.”

His eomma sits back, smoothing her chima and settling a hand on Dohoon’s shoulder, calming his little brother’s fidgeting. Namjoon remains stiff-backed, doing his best to emulate his appa’s proud, yet deferential posture. His legs are falling asleep. 

“I’m a widower,” Lee Chungwoo says conversationally, ignoring the tea. There is a hard glint in his eye that makes his next sentence a demand, rather than a request. “Show me this fairy statue.”

And so Namjoon follows after his parents, the Sect Leader, and a dozen disciples as they trek up to the stone altar that has been naturally carved into the nearby mountain with the purity of yang energy over hundreds of years. Namjoon holds his little brother’s hand tightly, ever a dutiful son looking after his sibling. 

Namjoon’s appa explains everything he knows about the fairy statue, which has been on the land of the Sonamu Sect for longer than Namjoon’s ancestors had claimed the region. This area, this mountain, had been an ideal territory for their family, who studied medical cultivation and used the resources of the mountain to further medical treatments. The fairy statue has looked over them with benevolence and her power has fed the herbs of the mountain well. The land thrives and the people in their simple village are happy. 

Yet Namjoon feels wary. He knows that the Lee Clan of the Gom Sect of Seoul had annexed his clan before he was born, and so the Kim Clan of the Sonamu Sect of Ilsan had always been under their rule for as long as he can remember. But this is the first time the Sect Leader had deigned to visit and it’s obvious to Namjoon that the visit is not casual. His parents are tense, the disciples look more like soldiers, and the Sect Leader is clearly only interested in the fairy statue. 

Fairy statues are rare, but not so rare to garner this much fixed attention.

“Remarkable,” Lee Chungwoo says once they are inside the cave. It is only the Sect Leader and Namjoon's family. The disciples stay outside, guarding the entrance. Lee Chungwoo holds a hand out to the fairy statue, not quite touching, and looks back at where Namjoon’s family is standing a much more respectable distance away. “I can feel such power here. Such power…”

Namjoon is training to be a medical cultivator and has been studying under his parents for his entire life. He has been trained to track the flow of energy, to detect changes in an individual’s aura, to immediately identify the balance of yin and yang in the body. Some of these skills he can perform without ever touching the patient. But Namjoon is only fifteen and he has never before encountered a cultivator as powerful as Lee Chungwoo, who pumps out a flow of energy that is almost overwhelming. Namjoon is forced to take a step back to keep his balance as the Sect Leader does - something.

And then, all of a sudden, the fairy statue is screeching. The statue has never once made a noise in Namjoon’s memory, let alone a noise so pained - and the walls of the cave start to shake. 

Eomma rushes forward to support appa, who stumbles under a crashing wave of cold, cold energy. “Sect Leader!” she shouts. “What are you-”

“Give it to me!” Lee Chungwoo demands and there is an awful crack as the heart is ripped out of the fairy statue. 

The fairy seems to freeze in shock, the pained screaming cut off suddenly, as abrupt as a cord snapped. And then the fairy crumbles down, hundreds of years of cultivation to gain sentience and benevolence ruined in a cravenly cruel act. The statue is reduced to fine rubble in only seconds.

The Sect Leader laughs in delight, holding the statue of the fairy in his hand. The golden glow of yang energy is swiftly replaced by a mass of inky black, however, as yin energy floods directly from Lee Chungwoo’s hands. His laugh turns maniacal as the now-black metal begins to siphon at forbidden energy that exists in the world - at the yin energy that should never be altered, let alone absorbed -

His parents are standing too close as a swell of cold, dark energy emanates from the black metal. Namjoon isn’t sure what happens but, in the breath of a second, both his parents collapse on the cave floor, white eyes rolling into the back of their heads. There is no movement of the chest. There is no sound. Namjoon has already seen enough dead bodies in his training to readily identify them now. 

Gone. Just like that.

“Appa!” Dohoon yells, darting forward. “Eomma!”

“Dohoon!” 

Namjoon leaps into action, but he is moments too late. Although the Sect Leader seems unaffected by the poisoned fairy heart in his hands, it is clearly lethal and uncontrolled. The black metal has already claimed the lives of Namjoon’s parents and now, Dohoon has drawn too close. 

Dohoon stops suddenly, his body stiff as a wooden plank. His head drops back and he groans, a haunted, shivering sound that makes fear clutch Namjoon’s heart. Namjoon snags his arms around his little brother and hauls him backward, feeling weak as he trips away from the destroyed fairy altar and out of the cave.

Under the sun, Dohoon’s complexion is pale and his eyes are bloodshot, the pupils so far expanded there is no color left except for a faint ring of brown. Dohoon’s breath rattles in his chest and his pulse is thready. 

Namjoon acts on instinct, on years of training. He jabs at his brother’s acupressure points then slams his own energy through his brother’s meridians, a hand tightly circling his wrist. And it’s only for this energy transfer that Namjoon discovers the horrific truth - Dohoon’s golden core has been diminished by a significant degree, and the meridians connecting the core to the body hang by mere threads.

His parents, then -

Perhaps the sudden loss -

But something else is wrong with Dohoon. Something is wrong - his spiritual cognition, his very link to his soul, something is missing - 

Namjoon doesn’t know what to do. The most he can do is keep his brother breathing, ignoring the panic clawing through his body. He can’t even cry or mourn, his mind too fixated on the procedures that will keep Dohoon here with him. 

He ignores the startled disciples and the horrified villagers who had come to investigate the screaming from the fairy altar as he works. He has only attention for his brother. 

It is this focus that leaves an impression on Lee Chungwoo, who eventually emerges from the cave with a sort of pleased menace to his aura. “You’ve kept him alive,” the Sect Leader remarks, stopping to stand over Namjoon and Dohoon. “Impressive. You must be the prodigious young doctor, then.”

Namjoon hardly lifts his eyes, unwilling to look away from his brother until his condition is stabilized. 

“I could use someone cool under pressure in Seoul,” the Sect Leader continues. He doesn’t seem to care about anything else but his own agenda - certainly not Dohoon’s life or the death of Namjoon’s parents. 

But at these words, Namjoon pauses. “My brother,” he says stiffly. He’s trying very hard not to sob, his voice choked with emotion.  “Dohoon is…unwell. And my village. My sect.”

Lee Chungwoo makes a dismissive sound. “Come to Seoul and bring your brother. Your village is your village. Your sect can continue to practice medicine. Weak cores, anyway. I have no use for them. But you…”

Namjoon is useful. Namjoon has unwittingly made himself useful. A mistake. A blessing. Is the offer a true offer, or is the offer a threat? He has no idea. What would his appa do?

“You will have access to texts and resources to further your talents,” Lee Chungwoo says persuasively. “And if you do well, you may become my personal physician. You will be handsomely rewarded. What do you say?”

Namjoon is only fifteen. His brother is only twelve. They are orphans and they must survive. Namjoon must make sure they survive. He must also protect his village and his sect, since he is the heir. 

Namjoon must do his duty.

And so he agrees. 

“Yoongi-yah, please. The snow…”

Yoongi does not respond to his brother. He keeps his eyes forward, unwavering as he stares at eomeoni’s door. Inside, there are no shadows from flickering candles or braziers, no sounds of movement, no welcoming floral scent. Instead, all is quiet and the only scent is the snow that continues to dust the mountain.

Eomeoni’s home has been silent like this for days. His uncle says it will continue to be silent. 

Yoongi knows what it means. 

He continues to kneel in the snow, posture erect and face solemn, even as his skin prickles from the cold. And for as long as he kneels, his brother pleads with him. But Yoongi will not be moved. He must kneel in front of his mother’s home because her name and memory will not be honored by the elders, and so there will be no tablet with her name on it at the family shrine.

Eomeoni was a prisoner of his sect. For all that she was nominally the wife of the sect leader and the mother of the heir, she was also a murderess who was only permitted to see her children once a month. And now that her home is quiet, she will not see her children ever again, and neither can her children honor her as they should.

So Yoongi will kneel to honor and mourn his mother. Nothing will move him. 

“Yoongi-yah…” Chunghee’s hand nearly closes over the knob of Yoongi’s shoulder, but then he remembers himself - remembers that Yoongi does not like casual contact - and the hand falls away. “I miss her too. I am also grieving. But you must not be self-destructive. To kneel for so long in such cold weather…”

“Leave him, Chunghee,” their uncle says from several feet behind them. He sounds resigned, but Yoongi imagines his expression holds some measure of irritation. “Yoongi has made his choice. He will submit to punishment later.”

Chunghee steps back. “Punishment? Whatever for?”

“Do not show excessive emotion,” Min Jinwoong cites pointedly. “Do not defy elders.”

Yoongi controls his breathing. 

“Be a filial child,” Yoongi counters calmly. “Be loyal and filial. Do not forget to grace the forefathers.”

His uncle huffs, but does not respond. Filial loyalty to a deceased parent supersedes any other rules Yoongi might be violating, even if that parent was a criminal. Still, Yoongi is being defiant, and defiance must not be excused. Not even in extraordinary circumstances - or perhaps especially then. 

“I will submit to punishment,” he says. “After.”

“See to it that you do,” Jinwoong says with a hint of warning. “Chunghee. Will you be joining him?”

Yoongi’s older brother hesitates. Chunghee is in a difficult position as the sect heir. Although their father is still alive, he is secluded in the back mountains under punishment he has been serving for nearly twenty years - while his mother was imprisoned for murder, his father was imprisoned for marrying a murderess to prevent her execution. As a result, the elders watch Chunghee and Yoongi very closely. And Chunghee has additional responsibilities, his role somewhere between a sect heir and an acting sect leader until he is of age. 

Chunghee cannot be punished. He should not be punished for Yoongi’s sake.

“Hyung-nim,” Yoongi says. “Go.”

Chunghee sighs, obviously reluctant - but he is as practical and rule-abiding as Yoongi, and those ingrained habits are difficult to overcome. His boots crunch in the snow as he moves away, following their uncle down the path away from the hidden house high in the mountains. 

When Yoongi is left alone, he allows himself a long, slow blink. He acknowledges that his knees ache and that the biting cold of the snow has left his joints stiff. For that, the remedy is to circulate more energy through his body, to leverage the power of his golden core to regulate his temperature and protect him from hypothermia. He is strong enough that he could circulate his energy for days without flagging. Not even hunger will touch him in the face of his yang reserves.

How long should he stay? Days? A week or more? How long is long enough to honor the mother he could seldom see, but whom he loved so dearly?

Wretched sadness snags at his heart, and he knows his defiant display to honor his mother is excessive by the standards of his sect, but the wound is too fresh. 

Eomeoni died a prisoner. Yoongi wonders if she was falsely convicted. 

But when he has asked about her, about what happened, his uncle does not give any answers. All Yoongi knows is that eomeoni murdered a respected teacher of the sect and that his father saved her life by marrying her. 

Now that he is older, Yoongi has doubts. He has questions. He can very clearly recall the emptiness in his mother’s eyes, the dull weight of depression that would make her slow to smile. When he and Chunghee were children, eomeoni was playful and nurturing - but as they got older, the mask began to drop. Or perhaps, the bleakness of her future forever locked away in this house finally broke her strength. 

Eomeoni did not die a natural death. Yoongi suspects this final act was the only control she ever had over her own life. 

Because to murder a man and to be forcefully married to another and then give birth to two children - 

Chunghee does not question the story they have been told. It must be easier for him to cope with it that way. But Yoongi has always thought more deeply, has always sought deeper truths to honor the precepts of his sect. 

The truth must certainly be that his mother was a victim of two men, and then further a victim of a powerful sect that punished her instead of upholding justice. The notion hurts, but it also strikes an unwavering sort of truth. The world is often grim and ugly, and the Horangi Sect of Daegu has proven to be no different. 

Yoongi will kneel and mourn and tenderly fold the memories of his mother deep into his heart. But he will not forget this lesson. 

Righteousness and justice do not often go hand-in-hand. Especially not when fallible men decide what is right and what is just.

Hoseok has always wondered what it’s like to wield a spiritual sword.

For a common sword to be of any quality, it must be well-balanced and sharp. Spiritual swords are different - not only will the blade be tuned to the wielder's unique spiritual energy, but the bond between sword and master will allow for seamless, lethal grace. Deep bonds between master and sword can even seal the sword so that no other can use the blade.

Once, he had been able to see a spar between highly trained cultivators. The harmony the cultivators had with their swords was mesmerizing. To be so skilled and to make it look so effortless…

Hoseok has been training as a cultivator at a nondescript cultivation school for commoners since he was a child. There are dozens of schools across the land that train commoners in basic spiritual skills, such as activating a talisman or recognizing the signs of a ghoul on the loose, but many commoners do not stick to the training. It can be hard to balance the demands of cultivation with the demands of daily survival. After all, how can one plow a field and also meditate or practice sword forms for countless hours? Only the dedicated commoners will progress to learn more advanced skills. 

Hoseok is dedicated. He has spent his childhood working himself to the bone, the son of farmers and the hope of his family. His elder sister could marry a rich man to support their family, but Hoseok must devote his blood and sweat to become better, stronger, and faster. As a cultivator, the promise of a salary from one of the greater sects means his parents will be able to live without worry - could even mean his sister can marry for love, rather than security. 

And so Hoseok juggles. For every hour he spends training his mind and body, he spends the same amount of time planting, weeding, and harvesting. There is time only for his goals. He does not attend festivals, he does not allow for deeper friendships, and he does not take his eye off the prize. 

It is fortunate, then, that Hoseok’s dedication is matched by his skill. He must work hard for it, but he is at the top of his class and he shows the most promise. His teachers have agreed that he would do well with a true spiritual sword. But only the formal sects know the secret to creating such a weapon, and one does not join a sect easily. There must be an invitation or a birthright. 

“Have patience, Hoseok-ah,” appa tells him with a smile when Hoseok expresses his concerns. He stands up with a groan, his joints clicking stiffly as he shuffles around their humble home. “Your time will come, my son.”

His father has aged the same as all commoners do, drawn older by the stress of the lifestyle, the constant struggle, and the lack of spiritual energy budding in the body. Strong cultivators, though - they can nearly stop time, and some have grown powerful enough to achieve immortality or something like it. 

Hoseok doesn’t know that he wants to be ageless. That much power must surely be overwhelming and lonely, and everyone says that immortals are recluses. No, he doesn’t need or want that much power. What he wants most, perhaps, is the security of knowing he has done well for his family. He wants to support and protect them. For himself, this is enough. He dare not ask or dream for anything more. 

Appa is right, though. His time does come.

One day, his teachers take him aside and enthusiastically inform him that head disciples from major sects are visiting their school to scout for talent. If Hoseok is lucky, he will get an invitation. 

It’s too soon. It’s not soon enough. 

Hoseok performs well. The head disciples praise him for not holding back in his spars. They look impressed, but he is still nervous. 

Three sects make him an offer. He accepts one.

“Will you be able to visit, do you think?” his sister asks as he is packing. She hands him spare underclothes and soapberry. “Like on eomma’s birthday? Or Chuseok? The new year?”

Hoseok shrugs a little helplessly. “I don’t know, Aecha. Maybe?”

Aecha smiles gently. “Well, it’s okay if you can’t. This is such a great opportunity for you.”

“It’s an opportunity for us,” he corrects her. “For our family.”

“We’re comfortable,” she says. 

“We’re fortunate and we have been fortunate. Harvests have been good. We have shelter and food and our town is safe. But luck doesn’t last,” he says, tightening the ties on his bag. Double knots. “It’s best to ensure our family is secure before you no longer have the choice of rejecting your next suitor. You deserve love, not filial obligation.”

Aecha’s eyes are watering. “And what about you, hm? What does my darling brother deserve?”

Hoseok thinks about it for a minute. “Peace,” he decides. “I deserve peace.”

“And…you think this way lies peace?” Aecha asks dubiously. “All the violence and danger seems peaceful to you?”

He grimaces a little. It’s true that he doesn’t relish violence, and he certainly doesn’t enjoy hunting down terrifying creatures but - 

“Peace comes from security,” he answers. “Security comes from power and opportunity. So, to get peace, I need a little bit of power and opportunity.”

Aecha draws herself up. “I will always support you. But remember this,” she says, poking his forehead. “Do not risk yourself. Your life is most important. Hear me?”

Hoseok pulls her into a hug but says nothing. He is not in the habit of making promises he might not be able to keep. 

“Take care of them, noona,” he whispers later, after he’s hugged his parents and allowed them to tuck travel food into his pack. He holds his sister’s gaze. “Take care of yourself.”

Aecha nods, squeezing his hands. She manages a tearful smile. “We’ll be fine,” she tells him. “Go. Get a fancy sword and find your peace.”

Hoseok smiles widely through his tears and looks at his parents one last time. And then he turns and starts his journey to the Jasujeon Sect. 

Taehyung cowers behind a rice paper screen, frightened tears welling in his eyes. Between him and the door are his father and brother - one enraged beyond all measure, the other doing his best to prevent that rage from reaching Taehyung and the disciples. 

Taehyung knows what this is. He knows it’s been coming, because it always happens in his sect, especially to the strongest cultivators. He knows and dreads and this is why he will never pick up a saber or dedicate himself to cultivating spiritual energy. Or at least, not cultivating the same way his sect does.

Because of this very scary moment right now - a qi deviation. And a violent one at that. 

Kim Taeyong’s saber swings wildly and with great power, the heavy blade dark with the miasma of yin energy from the many beasts it has slayed and absorbed over the years. The yin energy has grown too strong to be suppressed by his father’s golden core and his father’s meridians have suffered along the way, no longer healthy or resilient. His father is dying. His father has been dying for decades, a willful slow poison, and Taehyung knows that his brother and the rest of his sect will be the same.

Not many of them make it past thirty. The method of cultivation used by the Kkachi Sect is too volatile, too high-risk - and nearly forbidden, which is why they do not share their methods with outsiders. 

As far as the rest of the cultivation world knows, the main bloodline of the sect is cursed with a shortened lifespan, and the disciples of the sect are merely reckless enough to die on night hunts. 

It doesn’t have to be this way. Taehyung knows it doesn’t have to be this way, but nobody will listen to him - and nobody will seek help. 

Which is why he’s here, crying behind a fragile screen that will do nothing to protect him if his brother fails to subdue their father. Taehyung cries openly, hot tears running down his face, and he does not hide his fear. Nobody is paying attention to him, anyway. All anyone can do is watch as their Sect Leader is consumed by yin energy right in the main hall. All anyone can do is bear witness to a birthday celebration that has turned into a tragedy. 

Today, Taehyung is fifteen. Today, his father will die, likely at the hands of his brother in what will be seen as a virtuous, merciful act of filial piety. 

Even though he is scared, Taehyung does not stop watching. He can’t stop. He won’t. He must see this so that he will never forget why he defies the ways of his sect. 

His brother’s saber meets his father’s blackened blade. The crash of energy thunders through the room, throwing some of their disciples into walls. Kim Byunghyun throws more of his weight against Kim Taeyong’s blade, his teeth bared in a snarl. Taeyong roars, black veins crawling to his eyes, where countless blood vessels have already popped. Taeyong is sweaty, so red his skin appears blistered, and his hair has fallen out of his top knot, the Sect Leader sangtuwan kicked carelessly across the floor. 

The disciples watch breathlessly, clearly prepared to bolt at a moment’s notice, but they don’t see this for the travesty it is. The fight is regarded as one leader handing the reins to another, as it has been for generations. 

It doesn’t have to be this way. 

The rage caused by the qi deviation has made Taeyong’s skills sloppy. He leaves his side open, and Byunghyun takes advantage. There is a splash of blood, a ragged gasp, and then Taeyong drops to the floor. 

Taehyung sobs. 

Byunghyun bows grimly to their fallen father, a single tear falling down his cheek. He gathers more dignity and stoicism than Taehyung will ever have and turns to the room to bow again. 

On the floor, their father’s saber finally stops shivering, but the blade remains black and sinister. Several disciples come to fire subduing talismans at the blade, careful to lock down the yin energy in the blade before bundling the saber up and taking it to be buried with the other blade spirits of former disciples and sect leaders. 

Taehyung cries throughout all of it. He cries so much his eyes ache and his head throbs. 

“Eunwoo!” his brother calls. 

Cha Eunwoo, a disciple who had grown up beside Taehyung and who is Taehyung’s dearest companion, comes to stand at attention. He has been beside Taehyung the entire time, a careful guard ready to haul Taehyung away or fight to protect him if need be. 

“Take him to his rooms,” Byunghyun orders quietly. “Call a physician to calm him down. Stay with him until…Until it’s time to honor the former Sect Leader.”

Eunwoo presses his lips together. “Of course, doryeon-nim - ah. Sect Leader, I mean.”

Byunghyun appears even grimmer, but he strides away. He has always been this way, preferring to deal with what he can control. Taehyung has forever been something his brother was unsure of how to handle, especially when Taehyung is having emotions. 

Taehyung watches his brother go and then looks back at the cooling corpse of his father, which has by now been shrouded in a sheet. The blood will take days to scrub out of the stone. Taehyung will probably need to supervise the work. 

He might vomit.

Eunwoo is gentle as he guides Taehyung away and he stays respectfully silent as Taehyung tries to quiet his cries. He is not successful until after a physician has visited with a calming tea that seems to mute all of the overwhelming emotions he is feeling.

Sleepy and swollen-eyed, Taehyung turns on his side, silk covers pulled up to his chin. He gazes at Eunwoo’s ridiculously handsome face and Eunwoo stares back, a frown between his brows. 

“That will never be me,” Taehyung mumbles. 

“I know.”

“Our sect is wrong. We shouldn’t…our cultivation is broken but nobody wants to do anything to fix it.”

“I know.”

“You do know,” Taehyung agrees, eyes dropping to the calluses on Eunwoo’s hands. “You don’t use the saber the same way they do. You’ll be safe.”

“You told me, when I first came here,” Eunwoo says. “You warned me when you didn’t have to. You said that I could bloody my saber, but that I should never taint it with beast energy. You are right, Taehyung-ah.”

“Nobody will listen,” Taehyung laments. He is crying again. “Why won’t they listen?”

Eunwoo does not answer. But he does seat himself at Taehyung’s bedside and carefully holds Taehyung’s hands until he falls into a drugged sleep. And when Taehyung wakes up with a heavy, broken heart later, Eunwoo is still there. 

“I will always be here,” Eunwoo whispers, holding Taehyung’s gaze. “Always.”

Of all the people in Taehyung’s life who have made similar promises - his father, his mother, his brother - it is only Eunwoo he believes. 

Because it is only Eunwoo who listens. 

Jimin-hyung is lucky that he gets to go on nighthunts by himself, Jeongguk thinks a little glumly. Without Jimin around, Jeongguk is bored and lonely. He’s also more than a little disgruntled that he wasn’t allowed to go on the nighthunt because of his age, of all things. As if Jeongguk isn’t just as skilled as some of the senior disciples! 

But there was no swaying his father, and this time even his mother agreed. So Jimin was sent off alone to chase down some beast killing livestock just outside of Busan and Jeongguk is here, alone, with nothing to do but study more than he already does. 

He sighs and kicks at a stray pebble that had come to the sect grounds from the beach, probably from disciples who had taken a break earlier. Jeongguk hadn’t been invited, of course. The disciples like him, but they never forget that he’s the sect heir. 

It’s probably not fair that Jeongguk is so bitter about it. But what in life is fair? He’s only fourteen, but he knows nothing about life is fair - nothing. 

It’s easier for Jimin in some ways and harder for him in others, Jeongguk knows. Jimin gets to be the beloved head disciple, someone who is sociable and accessible and admired. But Jimin is also much younger than the other disciples, and so he is constantly challenged by would-be seniors who are bitter about his raw power and skills. As a result, Jimin gets to go on nighthunts by himself - even the nighthunts that would really be safer to complete with one or two more disciples - because he’s strong. 

But being alone on a nighthunt…Isn’t that what happened to Jimin’s parents? Being strong doesn't mean being safe.

Jeongguk, on the other hand, is trained alongside the disciples but is never truly a disciple. He’s pushed to be the very best, even though the best is already Jimin. Jeongguk is challenged with certain duties, but he is always protected. Nobody would ever suggest Jeongguk go on a nighthunt by himself, that’s for sure. And so Jeongguk is respected, but at a distance since too many disciples are frightened of his mother’s wrath. 

Not that he blames them. Jeongguk doesn’t like crossing his mother, either, and does almost everything he can to avoid it. If that means having fewer friends - well, what sect heir isn’t lonely at the top? Jimin is the only one who is very close, but he also holds an odd position as a ward. And Jimin is also punished for that closeness, isn’t he?

Of course, Jimin also lacks a healthy sense of self-preservation, never takes his pain seriously, and is ridiculously resilient after a childhood raised under the hand of Jeon Hyebin. His hyung isn’t exactly normal. 

Jeongguk worries about him. Frequently. 

But, really, who else will worry, if not Jeongguk? Not that he’d ever tell Jimin that. They’re older now and that kind of thing - men don’t discuss it. Not openly. Even though neither of them are men yet. 

It isn’t as if Jeongguk’s mother would spare Jimin any worry, and Jeongguk has yet to see his father step in to ensure Jimin’s safety even once. No matter what his mother says, there is no favoritism to be found in Jimin’s treatment. 

Except for Jeongguk’s favoritism, of course. But that doesn’t hold much weight yet. Just wait, though! Once Jeongguk is the sect leader, Jimin will never have to nighthunt by himself. Jeongguk will go with him, or he’ll send disciples along because that’s the right thing to do. 

Jeongguk sighs. The future is so far away. It’s much easier to be frustrated. 

“Jeongguk.”

Jeongguk halts in his steps and turns. His brows shoot up. “Eomeoni?”

His mother twists her expression. “Why are you surprised to see me in my own home? Who were you expecting? That little delinquent?”

Jeongguk knows better than to respond to that directly. 

It’s not that unusual to see his mother around the sect grounds. She trains many of the senior disciples directly, after all. But it isn’t exactly frequent that she seeks him out, either. Usually, Jeongguk shares meals with his mother and spends the rest of his day out of her sight.

Today, it seems that she has sought him out.

“How can I help you, eomeoni? Is it the disciples?” he wonders. 

“Hmph. Come with me,” she orders, striding past and expecting him to follow. 

Jeongguk blinks after her for a moment before his brain catches up. He’s surprised and curious as she leads him to the training grounds. As they walk, disciples bow hastily at the madam of the sect and nod at Jeongguk, but none are bold enough to ask where they’re going or what they’re doing. 

If Jimin was here, he would ask. He might get slapped for it, but he would still ask. Perhaps it’s a good thing his hyung is nighthunting, actually. 

When they come to the largest training courtyard, his mother turns to look at him critically. Jeongguk stands up straighter, trying to show off the height from his recent growth spurt. He’s still reedy, but he’s working hard to build his strength. 

“You’re old enough that you need to start learning real skills,” his mother says, circling around him hawkishly. “Your sword forms still need work and your archery is decent, but you are not only a son of the Jeon clan. You’re also a descendant of the Kwon clan, and we specialize in a different type of close-range weapon. If you’re very good, you can use your sword, too.”

Jeongguk’s eyes widen when his mother removes her bracelet. She motions for his hand, which he jerks forward eagerly. His mother places her spiritual weapon around his wrist, the whip an heirloom that had been passed down to the strongest fighters in her family for generations. Jeongguk has always quietly dreamed about getting to wield the whip, but he never thought his mother would teach him so early. 

And, admittedly, there is a nugget of trepidation in the back of his mind as the weight of the bracelet settles against his wrist.

This whip is a powerful tool, easily one of the greatest spiritual weapons among all the great sects, and definitely a treasure of the Mugunghwa Sect. But it’s also a tool that has been used to punish his hyung, often unfairly. Jeongguk admires and fears the whip in equal measure. To be trained in a weapon that can bring so much pain…

Jeongguk closes his fist, silently vowing to only ever use this whip responsibly. He will not abuse its power. 

“I was your age when my father trained me. He chose me, the youngest, instead of my older sisters because I had the mental fortitude necessary to control the whip. You,” she trails off with a thoughtful look. “You have your own kind of strength. A little too much like your father, maybe, but you have the right focus. And focus is important. If you’re thoughtless with this whip, it will turn on you.”

Jeongguk nods. Lightning is a volatile element. One strike of lightning on a tree can spark a fire that lasts for days. Lightning can easily take a life, paralyze a man, brand the skin. And whips, as a weapon, require a high amount of accuracy. 

“I believe you will be formidable, one day,” his mother tells him. Her face is as stern as ever, but her tone is gentler, nearly soft. 

A flush of pride rises through him, which is almost matched by a sense of guilt.

“Let’s begin.”

Jeongguk’s feelings about his mother are complicated. How can he love someone who hates his hyung so much? How can he want her approval? And yet, he does love her and he does crave her approval. He lives for these moments when she allows herself to be his mother instead of the jealous woman who hounds after them all. 

Just this once, he’ll let himself have this moment without guilt.

Chapter Text

Jimin loiters outside of the inn with the rest of the Mugunghwa disciples while Jeongguk settles their tab from the previous night. His arms are crossed over his chest with his sword held in a loose grip, the hilt tapping a senseless rhythm against his collarbone. He keeps one lazy eye on the younger disciples, but the rowdy bunch is still shaking off the weight of sleep, and half of them are almost too groggy to stand up without help. They aren’t any trouble and don’t really need supervision, so Jimin allows his mind and his senses to wander, eyes roving the crowd of the small town they stopped in to escape the rainstorm the previous night. 

Quiet town. Maybe too quiet? There’s something in the air here that has his instincts on edge. 

“...that’s the third one this week!”

Jimin frowns curiously, turning his head to track the hushed conversation held between a small cluster of stall owners. 

“The third, you say?”

“Well, missing people doesn’t always spell disaster, does it? They could be visiting family.”

“Three this week, two last week, and then three more last month! And none are returning!”

“Not alive, at least…”

“That doesn’t sound like visiting family to me,” Jimin says with a friendly grin, inserting himself into the group of older men. His smile widens at their startled expressions and he waits for them to take in his cultivator hanbok before he continues. “I couldn’t help but overhear! I’m a bit nosey! You were talking about missing people?”

Some of the group hesitate, but one of the older men takes his prompt eagerly. “Yes, yes! Doryeong, we’ve had several missing people in the last several weeks. And before that, many of our livestock were missing too.”

Jimin waves over the younger disciples, who approach the group obediently. At the same moment, Jeongguk emerges from the inn and tilts his head curiously at Jimin. Jimin jerks his chin in an invitation, eyes widening.

Jeongguk pushes lightly through the disciples. “What’s going on?”

Jimin nods to the men. “These ahjussis were just telling me about an odd problem the town is having,” he summarizes. “Missing people. Possible corpse sightings.”

Jeongguk catches on quickly, a complicated expression crossing his face. He presses his lips together and turns to the last ahjussi who spoke. “Tell us more.”

“Well, it started when our cows…”

Jimin, Jeongguk, and the Mugunghwa disciples all listen carefully to the story. When Jeongguk asks why the town hadn’t contacted any of the nearby sects, they are surprised to learn that the town falls between territory borders and that none of the smaller sects had responded to their requests yet. 

Jimin grimaces. He nighthunts enough to know that this happens all too frequently. Sects are too reluctant to hunt in one another’s territories, even though the good of the people should come first. Worse still are stories he’s heard of sects that have failed to solve a problem and still refused to reach out for aid, which only led to more suffering. 

It’s a good thing they stopped in this town!

“Ahjussi,” Jimin says at the end of the tale, a confident smile crossing his face. “You really don’t need to worry anymore. You’re looking at the finest disciples from the south! We can handle your problem in no time.”

Jeongguk pinches him. Jimin ignores it.

The ahjussi looks a little hesitant, eyeing their high-quality hanbok. “We can’t pay you much…”

Jimin waves him off carelessly. “Ah, payment isn’t necessary. Really, at most, we’ll ask for a pot of wine and a good meal! Right, Gguk-ah?”

Jeongguk sighs at him, but tells the group of men that they won’t require payment. “This isn’t an official request from your town,” he explains. “We’re just passing through and lending a hand.”

The men look relieved and wish them luck.

Jimin rounds up their disciples, ushering them toward the town’s farmlands. He has Jeongguk’s shoulder hooked under his arm, whistling as he pulls his dongsaeng along. 

Jeongguk elbows him. “What are you doing? We’re going to be late! We don’t have time for this. Another sect can handle it - or I can send a message home to request aid!”

“Ah, we have enough time,” Jimin counters breezily. “We left early, remember? We can take care of this quickly and be on our way.”

“But the lectures…”

Jimin laughs. “What about the lectures? Doesn’t the Horangi Sect prioritize righteousness? If we’re late to the lectures, which we won’t be, then we have a righteous reason! You worry too much!”

Jeongguk looks conflicted. “You know what eomeoni said, about building good relationships with the next generation of sect leaders.”

Jimin suppresses a groan. Madam Jeon, always so worried about unimportant things! He stops and takes Jeongguk by the shoulders. He shakes him a little. “Gguk-ah! You’re always complaining about never getting to go on enough nighthunts and here you are, turning down a hunt you found all by yourself! This is a good opportunity for some practical experience! Besides,” he says, casting a faux worried look at the young disciples who had been selected to attend the Horangi Sect lectures with them. “Think about our hubaes! They need education!”

Jeongguk shakes Jimin off. “Fine. But let’s hurry, okay?”

Jimin smiles. “Do I ever do anything slow?”

“No,” Jeongguk grouses. “ Unfortunately .”

Jimin ignores him, turning to clap and bring the disciples to attention. They round up eagerly, like little ducklings. “Who’s ready to solve a case?”

Jimin stands back with Jeongguk, observing as the young disciples collaborate to take down the fierce corpse. The fierce corpse itself is moderate in strength, which is why he and Jeongguk aren’t stepping in. Learning opportunities like this are important for the disciples, but Jimin is ready if they can’t handle it, hand already on Jangnan’s hilt.

Soon enough, the disciples are panting, some splattered in black ichor as the fierce corpse falls to the ground, still and truly dead. There’s a chorus of groans as the disciples observe each other. Jimin can’t help but laugh at them. Imagine being squeamish as a cultivator! 

Jeongguk must think the same because he barks out a laugh. “Why are you whining? Nighthunts are messy!”

“That’s why my clothes are darker!” Jimin confirms, even though that’s not really the reason. “Easier to hide blood and other muck.”

“And cinder burns,” Jeongguk mutters.

“It was one time!”

“A week? One time a week sounds right.”

“Jeon Jeongguk, why are you being mean to me?” Jimin whines. “I’m your hyung and I -”

Jimin cuts off suddenly, his finely-honed senses catching on an approaching swell of yin energy. He turns his head, following that trace of energy, and sees another fierce corpse stumbling through the field. This one seems stronger than the other one, the resentment sharper and more intent as the corpse shuffles determinedly toward the forest. Judging by the pallor and the condition of the clothing, this corpse is also older. 

“Hubaes!” he calls out. “Time for round two!”

“Can’t you do it, sunbae?” one calls back. “We’re tired!

“Tired?” Jimin echoes. “I’ll be sure to mention that to Jeon ma-nim! I’m sure she’ll be happy to adjust your endurance training.”

The disciples are quick to move after that, trundling toward the fierce corpse and clumsily taking it out. This fight takes more time because the disciples are tired, but being tired is no excuse for being sloppy. When they nighthunt by themselves in the future, ghouls and beasts won’t care if cultivators are tired. It’s best for the disciples to learn that now, under supervision, then later when it’s too late. 

Still, Jimin may fire off a talisman or two to make it easier for them to attack the corpse. It takes a little longer for them to take this one down, particularly since the corpse seems deadset on getting back to the forest.

“Saw that,” Jeongguk mutters. 

‘I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Jimin sing-songs. “But don’t you think there’s something else going on here?”

“Definitely.”

Jimin and Jeongguk wander over to their disciples, who are trying to catch their breath. 

“Are we done?” one asks.

“Where did the other one come from? Are there more ?”

“There shouldn’t be! That ahjussi said only a couple were missing. Not every missing or dead person turns into a fierce corpse,” one of the brighter disciples reasons. 

“Great! I’m glad we’re done! Fierce corpses are…so gross.”

There’s a throng of agreement among the disciples, who have all stood up and dusted themselves off. They give the fierce corpse a wide berth, which is probably for the best. When this is all done, they’ll have to give the corpses a respectful burial. Jimin is sure he’ll hear more moaning about grave dirt. 

Jimin circles around them, bouncing up on his toes as he inspects the juniors for injuries. He comes back around to Jeongguk’s side, leaning his elbow on his brother’s shoulder. “Ah, my dear hubaes!” Jimin coos. “You did so well. But you’ve made a mistake in the case. Does anyone know what it is?”

Jimin is afforded nearly a dozen blank stares. 

He slots a look at his brother. “Why don’t you tell them, Gguk-ah?”

Jeongguk rolls his eyes, gently shoving Jimin’s elbow off his shoulder. He pins the disciples with his purple eyes, which are narrowed in expectation. The expression looks startlingly like one Madam Jeon would wear.

“You forgot to look for the root,” Jeongguk tells them.

“The root?” a disciple echoes.

“The root!” Jimin agrees brightly. “My darling dongsaeng is right. Every problem and every case has a root. None of you were listening to that ahjussi very closely, were you? He said they’d been having trouble with livestock before this, and now these corpses have been very intent on this forest. What does that tell you?”

“You mean, there’s something in the forest, too?”

"Well, something has to be causing all these deaths..."

“I thought we were done!”

“The something in the forest is what we’re really hunting. Remember! Fierce corpses are almost always drawn to the cause of their death” Jimin says. “You can consider the corpses a light warm-up!”

Jimin laughs while the disciples make unhappy noises again. His blood is singing at the opportunity to hunt something interesting. If he had to guess, his bet would be a beast got fat and happy with the livestock and decided to go after human prey. Hunting dark beasts is always a physical challenge Jimin enjoys and he’s happy that the disciples will get to observe the best method for this type of hunt directly. Learning from a book can only do so much, after all. 

He looks at Jeongguk expectantly, a smile playing on his lips. “Well, aren’t you happy? This is the type of nighthunt you’ve been wanting to go on. And it dropped right into our laps!”

“You get too much joy out of being right.”

Jimin’s smile is blinding, even as he drags Jeongguk into the dark forest with him, the Muhunghwa disciples trailing along behind them. “I get joy out of everything!”

Jeongguk sighs. But later, when they’ve finally found the demonic boar, Jeongguk is the one who lands the killing blow and his pride isn’t something he can hide so easily. 

“Hyung. Hyung! Wake up!”

Jimin frowns, turning away from the voice. There is bright light behind his eyelids that makes it harder to sleep, but he’s comfortable . Something nudges his ribs, followed by an exasperated sigh. 

“Oh, no,” a voice says dully. “A dog. Whatever should I do?”

Dog? Not a dog!

Jimin bolts up, frantically looking for a dog, only to come face to face with Jeongguk’s unimpressed expression. Jimin pouts at him. 

“Why are you mean to me?” he complains, much to the amusement of their junior disciples who have already disembarked. Jimin stands up, brushes himself off, and leaps out of the boat. He throws himself at his brother just to be a pest, hanging off his back with a giggle. 

Jeongguk gently shoves him off and rolls his eyes. “Like I would ever actually let a dog near you.”

Well, that’s true. 

Satisfied that Jimin is cognizant, Jeongguk turns to address the disciples. He stands tall and proud like the sect heir he is, his face uncommonly serious as he leads the disciples away from the docks and into the busy streets of Daegu. Jeongguk is lecturing the disciples, reminding them of the importance of the next year they will be under the tutelage of the Horangi Sect. 

Jimin tunes him out. He’s heard it all before. 

Admittedly, the lectures are pretty important, almost like a rite of passage for young elite cultivators. Every five years, the Horangi Sect of Daegu hosts ten disciples aged fifteen to nineteen from all the sects. As the most scholarly sect, the Horangi Sect takes great pride in its vast libraries and upstanding disciples. This year, Jeongguk is just old enough to attend, and it really is an opportunity for him to mingle with other sect heirs. But still - Jimin has heard the Horangi Sect has thousands of rules that everyone at Horangi Recesses is expected to follow! 

Jimin wants to weep at the idea of so many rules. Maybe people have been exaggerating…?

Jeongguk is still going on about what he expects of disciples that represent the Mugunghwa Sect, so Jimin doesn’t feel too bad about bringing up the rear of their group. His eye snags on amber sugar shaped into an openwork rabbit and he smiles, stopping at the stall to buy it. 

He then slips to the front of the group, holding the candy under Jeongguk’s nose. Jeongguk’s eyes cross and then he scowls. “What is this?”

Jimin giggles. “A bunny! Isn’t it cute?” 

Jeongguk stares at him beseechingly. “Be serious! We can’t mess around!”

“You’re worrying too much,” Jimin dismisses. “Besides, it’s fun to mess around! Or do something forbidden!”

Jeongguk grumps. “I know that! But this time, we must keep in mind that everything we say and do represents our sect!”

It sounds too much like Madam Jeon. She probably spent hours lecturing Jeongguk before they left. Jeongguk cares about reputation, of course, because he’s the sect heir. But he also knows that their Busan disciples are free-spirited and can’t be easily tamed. His mother must have really gotten in his head, this time. 

Jimin makes Jeongguk hold the candy. “Ah, you’re right. But everything will be fine! You’ll see. Nothing to worry about.”

Jeongguk looks at Jimin doubtfully and then looks at the junior disciples. He sighs. “Let’s just go to the inn. We have a few days before we need to report to Horangi Recesses for the opening ceremony, so we should rest. Make a good impression on our hosts.”

Jimin wails in mock despair. “A few days! We have a few days, but you were still in a rush - ow!” Jimin rubs his arm, pouting at Jeongguk. “Okay! Fine, we’ll go to the inn and rest. But, if we’re in Daegu anyway, we might as well try Daegu’s famous liquor! I hear Emperor’s Smile full-bodied, but as sweet and easy to drink as cool spring water.”

“We shouldn’t drink too much…”

“You’re worrying again!”

The inn they booked via messenger several weeks ago is a medium-sized abode of good quality, the exact type of place a young master of a major sect should stay. The Mugunghwa Sect had been frugal in only booking four rooms - one for Jimin and Jeongguk to share, and three for their disciples. 

Except they’ve been kicked out of the inn before they can even get to their rooms! Jimin and Jeongguk exchange incredulous looks while the innkeeper rings his hands, nervously stumbling through the explanation of why the Mugunghwa Sect would have to find another place to sleep on such short notice. 

“A doryeon-nim came in today and paid for the entire inn,” he says with a helpless sort of look. “He requested all other guests leave except for his own people. And his price was…We will, of course, refund you for your rooms!”

Jeongguk frowns deeply. “While we appreciate the refund, that doesn’t-”

“Excuse me!” a bright voice calls, cutting Jeongguk off. The speaker is a young man, probably only a year or so older than Jimin. The young man enters the inn with a female companion dressed in similar disciple-type hanbok. “Jumo, we’ve returned! Have you been able to arrange all of the rooms? Our doryeon-nim will be arriving soon.”

Jimin eyes the boy consideringly. He has a long, pleasant-looking face with a gently sloped nose and a sharp jawline, and he sounds reasonably friendly. The summer-light durumagi he wears is a crisp golden color, which gives the young man a rather agreeable-looking appearance. 

“Ah yes! We followed all of your instructions and cleaned out the rooms,” the innkeeper responds eagerly, turning away from Jimin and Jeongguk. In the face of a large sum of money, it seems the Mugunghwa Sect’s plight is utterly forgotten. 

The yellow-clad young man offers a brief heart-shaped smile. “Very well. Would you place these sachets in the room for our doryeon-nim? He is very allergic to mosquitos…”

At this, the young man’s companion giggles into her hand. “Sunbae, you’re so considerate! No wonder you’re favored by Kim doryeon-nim,” she teases.

A young master Kim? There are a few that can be found in at least two of the major sects, let alone the minor sects. Jimin wonders which young Kim it is. But then - there’s really only one sect that would have the gall to buy out an entire inn. 

The boy laughs, shaking his head. “Quiet! I’m just following orders. Come, let us check the rooms…”

The two disciples leave, the boy offering a polite half-bow as he passes by, going upstairs where the best rooms of the inn can be found. On his waist, a tassel with golden strings and a small, round amethyst laid into a golden coin hangs near his sword. 

Jeongguk draws in a low breath. “I see. So it’s that Kim doryeon-nim. He’s here for the lecture too?”

“Well,” Jimin starts, tapping Jangnan against his collarbone. “Kim Seokjin is the right age. Barely. Isn’t he turning 20 in the winter?”

“Yeah,” Jeongguk says quietly. Of course, Jeongguk is in a similar boat, having only turned fifteen a few weeks ago. Still, he probably didn’t expect to see his betrothed at the lectures. Jimin certainly didn’t. 

“What a peacock,” Jimin muses. “Buying out the whole inn…Only the Jasujeon Sect would ever think of such a thing. Here, let me go talk to those disciples. Maybe they’ll be kind enough to let us keep our rooms.”

Jeongguk nods, but he warns, “Don’t cause trouble.”

Jimin waves him off, tossing a smile at the Mugunghwa disciples who have watched all of this with growing nerves. “I won’t! But I don’t want to sleep on the streets tonight. Do you? All the other inns are probably booked too.”

Jeongguk grimaces, then settles down at one of the inn tables to wait for Jimin. 

Jimin doesn’t waste any time, darting up the stairs with friendliness bubbling under his skin. That disciple really did look like an agreeable sort of fellow, and Jimin can work with agreeable people.

Upstairs, the Jasujeon disciples are opening doors and peeking into the rooms for a cursory inspection. When they see Jimin, they startle at his appearance, but he keeps a friendly smile on his face.

“Excuse me! Could I trouble you for a moment?” he asks, waiting until both disciples nod with only a little trepidation. Jimin’s smile brightens a shade. “See, the situation is like this…”

Jimin is gratified to see that these disciples look more than a little embarrassed by the situation. Although the Jasujeon Sect has a reputation for producing arrogant, money-driven heirs in the main branch, it’s nice to see that at least some of the outer disciples are more down to earth. 

The male disciple has a slight frown between his brows. He looks at his fellow disciple, who lifts her shoulders uncertainly. “Well…we really don’t need all these rooms, I suppose. And given the relationship between our sects, it shouldn’t be a problem,” he adds, alluding to the engagement the entire cultivation knows about. It’s prime gossip, after all. 

Jimin winks.” That’s what I think too! Thank you, hyung!” he chimes brightly. 

The Jasujeon disciple sputters, a flush rising to his tanned cheeks. “Hyung? Who said you could call me that?” 

Jimin sways forward with a teasing glint in his eye. “Well, I don’t know your name, do I?”

The young man snorts. “It’s generally polite to offer your own name first.”

Jimin laughs. “Aha! You’re right! I’m Park Jimin of the Mugunghwa Sect. You can just call me Jimin!”

“Jung Hoseok,” says the other boy. “Don’t call me hyung, though. We don’t know each other well enough.”

“Hoseok-sunbae, then!” Jimin decides affably. He laughs a little more, tilting his head cutely. “I’m glad I met you, sunbae. You know, people all say the disciples of Jasujeon Sect are as pretty as fairies. Today, I can say that’s true. You’re as fair-minded as a fairy, too!”

Hobi blushes, scratching at the back of his head as he laughs with obvious self-consciousness.

Mission accomplished, Jimin offers a much more genuine smile and a bow low enough to show his respect. “Thank you again sunbae!” he says before he bounds downstairs.

It’s with a victorious air that he informs Jeongguk and the innkeeper that the Jasujeon disciples have let them keep their reserved rooms. He’s glad that it all worked out so neatly. Reasonable people really should be praised! When he says as much to Jeongguk as they settle into their room, Jeongguk smacks his arm.

“Only a flirt like you could pull that off!” Jeongguk huffs, dropping down onto the padded floor. He flips over two ceramic cups to pour water for them, scooting one across the smooth tabletop for Jimin.

Jimin flops down, tossing back the refreshing water. “Listen to you! You’re just jealous of me,” Jimin declares. 

Jeongguk rolls his eyes. “Sure, I am. I’m also jealous of your height -”

“Hey! Enough about the height! Can I help that you’re some kind of weird giant?”

Mirth lights up Jeonguuk’s gaze, but before he can surely be even meaner about Jimin’s perfectly reasonable height , the door to their room slides open. The innkeeper is there, bowing apologetically as he tells them that, actually, they can’t have these rooms after all. It seems the Jasujeon Sect brought even more disciples, so they really will need all of the rooms at the inn. And, well, the Jasujeon Sect is willing to pay for it. 

Jimin gathers his and Jeongguk’s travel packs and wonders what on earth the Jasujeon Sect is thinking. What’s with this show of wealth? Only ten disciples can attend the lectures, but the sect actually has the audacity to bring enough disciples to fill an entire inn? Just to escort the third son? It’s absurd! 

Just outside the room, Jimin runs into Jeongguk’s back. He peers around his brother’s shoulder, brows lifting at the retinue of Jasujeon disciples lined up in the hallway, led by the coolly beautiful face of Kim Seokjin. 

Seokjin is taller and broader than he was all those years ago during his first and last visit to Busan, the cut of his warm magenta durumagi emphasizing the breadth of his shoulders. But for all his physical maturity, it doesn’t seem like Seokjin is any friendlier. His eyes barely pass over Jeongguk as he offers a stilted greeting. 

Jimin watches as the back of Jeongguk’s neck reddens as he tries and fails to hold Seokjin’s gaze during his return greeting. Ah. Seems like that infatuation is still going strong, then. “You’re…here for the lectures, too?” Jeongguk asks, seemingly just to have something to say to his betrothed. 

“Yes,” Seokjin answers. “And you’re here …?”

“We need to stay here. Before the lectures. We…booked rooms several weeks ago,” Jeongguk explains awkwardly, shifting back and forth on his feet. “But now…”

Seokjin frowns.

One of the Jasujeon disciples sees that moment as an opening, making a rude noise as he says, “Well, that’s too bad! Our doryeon-nim has bought the whole inn and doesn’t need to stay with random people!”

Jimin feels his temper flare protectively. “Random people?” he repeats in disbelief, stepping around Jeongguk with his chin jutted forward in challenge. “Don’t you know who you’re speaking about? Don’t you know who you’re talking to?”

Jeongguk’s hand catches the back of Jimin’s hanbok. “Hyung…”

In the rows of Jasujeon disciples, Jimin catches Hoseok’s worried look. And standing in front of the disciples, Seokjin merely frowns even more.

Jimin scoffs. “You won’t say anything to reign your disciple in? Fine,” he says, narrowing his eyes at Seokjin with every ounce of mistrust he’s ever felt for the young man. “Let me tell you, just because you peacocks have money doesn’t mean you’re greater or more important than anyone else. Look how ill-mannered you are, kicking people out of rooms they’ve paid for. And not even teaching disciples to respect the heir of a great sect!”

Even though Jimin had been talking to Seokjin, it is the loud-mouthed disciple who butts in again. “You! How dare you insult us! Is this the greatness of the Mugunghwa Sect?”

“Yes, me!” Jimin says hotly. He puffs his chest out, feeling his energy surge and lick at his veins like wildfire. “What will you do about it? Am I wrong? You can disrespect me, but you don’t need to involve Mugunghwa Sect. Do you think you can take me?”

The rude disciple blanches at the challenge, stepping back meekly. Good. Jimin would gladly beat the arrogance right out of him if given half the chance! And then, he’d teach Kim Seokjin a lesson, too!

Jeongguk’s grip shifts to Jimin’s wrist, which he squeezes tightly. Jeongguk raises his eyes to Seokjin, silently imploring his betrothed to do or say anything , but Seokjin says nothing. 

Jeongguk wilts. “Let’s just go…” he mutters, pushing through the Jasujeon disciples and dragging Jimin along with him. 

Jimin glares at every single Jasujeon disciple he passes, except for Hoseok. It’s not his fault the Jasujeon Sect is like this. 

Outside the inn, surrounded by their disciples, Jimin whirls on Jeongguk. “Are you sure you want to marry him ?” he demands. “He didn’t even say anything to defend you! Seriously, I think we can get you out of this engagement if you want. Say the word, and I’ll -”

Jeongguk shakes his head, pushing some stray hair off his forehead. “It’s…Maybe we can get to know each other better during the lectures,” Jeongguk says, as if he hasn’t sent Kim Seokjin a letter and a small gift for every holiday and birthday since they have been betrothed, only to receive the most lackluster perfunctory responses in reply.

Jimin’s heart breaks for his brother. “He’s arrogant,” he says, more gently than he usually would. “Knowing him better won’t change that, Gguk-ah.”

Jeongguk scowls at him, the hurt of the last several minutes obvious in his expression, in the defensive curl of his shoulders. “Drop it. Let’s just go to the Horangi Sect, okay? We’ve wasted enough time here.”

Jimin bites his tongue. 

The Horangi Sect of Daegu is different from the other great sects. For one, the origins of the sect are rather special. Some say that the Min Clan who lead the sect are related to Empress Min, the reigning queen of the land. The relation is distant, of course, since the Min Clan in Daegu had been living in Horangi Recesses for several generations, but the rumor is still one that has the cultivation world treating the Min Clan with a little more reverence than other clans. The Horangi Sect are also ascetics, and although they are rich and powerful, the austerity and scholarly pursuits of the sect is one of many reasons why others treat Horangi cultivators with additional respect. Horangi cultivators are above many of the vices of men and, unlike other sects, those in Horangi Recesses can say that at least one of them has achieved immortality - even though Min Myunghee disappeared shortly thereafter.

The Horangi Sect of Daegu is also different because they’re clearly masochists. There is a rule that to enter the revered mountain of the sect, all people must walk the steps up the mountain. Not even Horangi cultivators get a free pass unless there’s an emergency. 

Jimin clarified this rule. Twice. Both times, Sect Leader Jeon hadn’t changed his answer.

“I can’t believe we have to climb all these stairs,” Jimin whimpers. There must be over a thousand stairs up the mountain and, although the incline is not too steep, his endurance is flagging and his thighs are burning. At this point, he’s shamelessly using Jangnan as a walking stick to brace himself for the next step. “Disciples of the Horangi Sect must be inhuman. Jeongguk-ah, I’m gong to die .”

Jeongguk, who usually relishes physical challenges, sends him a commiserating look. "Flying by sword would be easier,” he agrees, panting in exertion. “But we should respect the ways of the sect.”

Behind them, several disciples who overhear these words groan and cry out. They’d already taken two breaks and by now, the sun is starting to dip lower in the sky. The saving grace is that the mountain is populated by many trees that cast the stairs in generous shade, so at least the late summer day isn’t swelteringly hot.

“Even if the sect is crazy? Look at this wall,” Jimin cries, casting wide eyes to the words carved into the mountain in neat rows. The words had started at the foot of the mountain, but Jimin didn’t realize the words were rules until he started paying more attention. Now, he keeps glancing at the long, long list with increasing trepidation. The list seems to go on and on, not a single bare spot on the mountain face no matter how many stairs he climbs. “Do they seriously follow all of these?”

“You won’t survive if they do,” Jeongguk tells him bluntly. 

“Probably not! I just saw one that said do not laugh in excess! ” Jimin explains in bewilderment, jabbing his finger at the wall. “What does that even mean?”

Jeongguk groans, shaking his head. They forge on. 

By the time they reach the top of the mountain, the Mugunghwa disciples are all exhausted. The Horangi disciples who are stationed as guards at the entry gate eye them all with silent judgment, the pair of them clothed in spotless light grey and white hanbok. 

Jimin wipes the sweat from his brow, gathering himself to bow at the Horangi disciples. “Greetings from the Mugunghwa Sect. We have arrived for the lectures,” he says breathlessly. 

The Horangi disciple-guards bow back. “Invitation?” one of them asks. 

Jimin nods with a smile, reaching into his deep blue durumagi for the invitation letter. But his overcoat is empty. He furrows his brows, patting at his chest and his pockets. Empty. Jimin turns around and starts patting over Jeongguk, thinking he must have the invitation instead. 

But Jeongguk just smacks his hands away and quietly asks, “Hyung, what the hell?”

Jimin’s lips twitch nervously. “I, uh. I don’t have the invitation. Do you?”

Jeongguk’s eyes widen. He pats at his pockets and then returns Jimin’s favor by searching Jimin’s jacket himself. He comes up empty, as well, and looks at Jimin with barely-concealed panic. 

Not good. 

Jimin turns to the guards with a bright smile, the kind of smile that makes all the ahjummas in the market coo at him. “Ah, here’s the thing. We…seem to have misplaced our invitation. There was a mix-up at the inn in Daegu, so we must have lost track of it.”

The Horangi disciples abruptly look a little less friendly. “Then, we’re sorry doryeong, but you can’t enter the sect without the invitation.”

Jimin blinks. He crosses his arms, shifting his weight to one leg. “But, we lost ours. You can’t make an exception? We’re clearly from the Mugunghwa Sect. We didn’t mean to lose our invitation.”

The disciples remain firm. “We can’t let you in without an invitation. We have to be able to verify your identity.”

Jimin lets out a sharp breath. “Well, that’s just…” Jimin uncrosses his arms and looks at his brother in exasperation. “Jeongguk-ah, it’s your turn! You talk some sense into him.”

Jeongguk steps forward, clearing his throat. “We lost our invitation, but I promise, we really are the Mugunghwa Sect. I’m Jeon Jeongguk, the heir of the sect. Look at our Mugunghwa Bell. This can’t be forged,” Jeongguk tries to reason, showing off the bell tassel at his waist. 

“Doryeon-nim, I understand,” says one of the Horangi disciples. “But we still can’t let you in.”

The Mugunghwa disciples at Jimin’s back shift nervously. Jimin is nervous, too. What can they do without an invitation? He’s certain he saw it back at the inn, so it’s probably in the room they should have been allowed to stay in. There’s no guarantee that the Jasujeon disciples would leave the invitation alone, either. 

“Could we talk to someone else then?” Jimin asks. 

The Horangi disciples think about this option for a few moments. Then, one nods in agreement. “The guards change shifts in two hours. By then, we can ask one of the older disciples for instructions.”

Jimin gapes. “Two hours? The sun will have set by then,” he says. He doesn’t mention that they’re all tired and hungry and sore from the climb up the mountain. “Please, we’ve traveled so far. Could you really not make an exception?”

“I’m sorry, doryeong, but no,” the disciple says regretfully. 

Jimin rubs his forehead, trying to think of a solution. There has to be something he can do. He can’t just let Jeongguk and the disciples stand here for another two hours without some guarantee that they would be allowed inside without the invitation! Maybe he could go back to the inn to search? The prospect isn’t exactly thrilling, but then - maybe Jimin could fly through the mountain forest, bend the rules a little, and make better time?

He’s about to suggest this idea to Jeongguk when another group approaches the entry gate. The Mugunghwa disciples shuffle to the side to make room for the group of disciples draped in grey and white hanbok, each of them with a white silk ribbon tying their hair into neat topknots. This group of Horangi disciples is led by a young man with a frankly arresting appearance.

The young man is as fair-skinned as fresh milk, with glossy, straight black hair that meets his mid-back, the top half worn in a dignified sangtu with a gleaming silver sangtuan and white jade donggot holding it in place. Around his forehead is a sheer white manggeon, the gossamer fabric stretched in the center in the motif of a tiger in peaceful, round slumber. Like the other Horangi disciples, he wears a long white ribbon to hold his topknot together, although the ends of his ribbon are weighted by silver tiger-head clamps at the end. His face is distinctly beautiful, with a small nose and petal-pink lips formed into a natural, downturned pout, and his build is strong, standing a few inches taller than Jimin with a sturdy chest and broad shoulders. Bold black brows rest over angled feline-like eyes, which are a curious shade of bright amber - or maybe gold.

He passes by Jimin’s group with barely a flicker of a glance, his arms folded neatly behind his back where one hand has an easy grip on a gorgeous white sword sheath. There is a norigae attached to his belt, white jade carved into an elegant tiger and white tassels spun with silver. 

Jimin stares after him in awe, his heart pounding. What an impressive disciple! He looks like he’s already an immortal with that solemnly beautiful face! And his aura - it feels strong, vital with yang energy. Certainly stronger than many Jimin has come across, even among older disciples. 

Jeongguk leans down a little, nudging Jimin’s elbow a couple of times. “Hey. That must be Min Yoongi, one of the Twin Tigers of the Min Clan. He’s the second heir.”

Jimin bobs his head, unable to look away. It isn’t every day one comes across a cultivator so enchanting, after all! “Twin Tigers? Wow…What an amazing reputation. I’d love to spar with him...”

Min Yoongi pauses, turning his head slightly in Jimin’s direction without ever actually turning around. But it’s enough to tell Jimin that he’s been heard and he can feel his cheeks heat up in response.

But then, the Horangi disciples pass by and Jimin’s attention is drawn by the body being carried on a gurney. It’s another Horangi disciple, but his pallor is grey and there are black veins crawling up his throat. The disciple is utterly still. Something feels - wrong - about him, so Jimin takes a step back, forcing Jeongguk back too.

The disciples at the gate hasten to let the returning Horangi disciples through, likely to rush the disciple on the gurney to medical aid. Not that Jimin thinks it will do much good.

Jeongguk’s voice is hushed when he asks, “Was he dead?”

“Dead?” Jimin returns. “No. He’s alive but, his spirit is…empty. A victim of something wicked.”

“Empty?” Jeongguk whispers. “Empty how?”

“His spiritual energy is gone, I think,” Jimin says. His eyes follow the gurney until it is carried out of sight, brow furrowed in thought. “Couldn’t you feel it?”

Jeongguk shakes his head.

Jimin frowns. Most people can’t sense energy the way he can, except for doctors and some cultivators with special training or spiritual tools. But Jimin has always been able to get a sense for yang energy, or even yin energy. Sect Leader Jeon thinks it may be something his mother, Wanderer Yon, taught him when he was very young or even something he inherited directly. 

Regardless of where it came from, the sensitivity Jimin has to the energy of the world has served him well as a cultivator. He has a hard time ignoring it, especially when he comes across odd circumstances like this one - a not-dead cultivator who is nevertheless missing the energy of his soul.

Min Yoongi turns fully to face Jimin, something intense in his placid expression. His golden feline eyes study Jimin, pinning him in place like prey caught in a predator’s trap. Jimin jolts and smiles on instinct.

Min Yoongi looks away. He addresses the disciple-guards at the gate. “Who are these people?” 

Jimin stands up a little straighter. Min Yoongi’s voice is so deeply rich, a low tone that rumbles out of his throat. Jimin has the urge to bother him until he speaks more.

“They’re guests of the lectures,” the disciple answers. “But they lost their invitation.”

At this, Jeongguk steps forward, offering a deeper bow to his fellow sect heir. “Ah, we are from the Mugunghwa Sect. I am Jeon Jeongguk, and this is my hyung, Park Jimin.”

Jimin hastens to bow, too. “Head disciple, at your service.”

Min Yoongi bows, as well, but his gaze trails away. “An honor,” he intones.

“Min doryeon-nim,” Jeongguk starts. “Would you be kind enough to help us?”

“Ah! Yes, doryeon-nim!” Jimin interjects eagerly. “You see, the inns in Daegu are all full and we lost our invitation, but we're really from the Muhunghwa Sect. Really! Is your sect leader here? He's probably seen my dongsaneg at the last discussion conference and-”

“No invitation, no entry,” Min Yoongi interrupts.

Jimin stops short. He laughs a little. “That’s a little inflexible, don't you think?”

“No invitation, no entry,” Yoongi repeats.

Jimin can’t help but be a bit bemused. Isn’t this young master a little stubborn? Rules are rules, sure, but rules are also guidelines. Sometimes rules have to be bent or broken to fit the circumstances! He tries to reason again with his most winning smile, swaying forward with a friendly air. “Doryeon-nim! Really, we had an invitation but we lost it by accident. Can’t you make an exception?”

Golden eyes lock onto him. “Find the invitation. Bring it back.”

Jimin’s brows arch incredulously. “Find the..? It took us so long to climb the mountain, but now you’re telling us to go back down the mountain to find an invitation? Your sect leader can easily confirm - Hey!”

Min Yoongi is walking away! In the middle of Jimin’s well-reasoned argument! Jimin stomps forward, intent to follow, but the disciple-guards at the gate block his way with awkward expressions.

Jimin shouts after Min Yoongi’s back as the other boy walks steadily away, hands once again folded behind his back. “Hey! Come back and - mmmf! Mmf? Mmmmph!”

Jimin’s lips are sealed together! He can’t talk at all! He turns around in shock, grabbing onto Jeongguk frantically. He shakes his brother a few times, but all of his noises are locked behind lips that have been sealed with a magical spell. Jeongguk’s eyes are very wide, and he immediately demands an explanation from the Horangi disciples at the entry gate.

One of the disciple-guards grimaces. “That’s the Horangi Sect silence spell. It will lift in about an hour,” he says, eyeing Jimin’s lack of composure warily. “Please don’t fight it, doryeong, or you might hurt yourself…”

“Mmmph!”

After a frustrating half-conversation with Jeongguk, in which his brother was forced to interpret Jimin’s muffled, magically-sealed responses, it’s decided that Jimin will go back down the mountain to retrieve their lost invitation. After all, Jimin is the head disciple and it’s his responsibility to look after Jeongguk and the rest. Besides, as a sect heir, Jeongguk really should stay close to a secure location, and even the outside gates of the Horangi Sect are better than walking the streets of Daegu late at night.

Jimin takes great pleasure in breaking the rules by flying down the mountain on Jangnan instead of walking, zipping through the heavy pine trees with glee. Sometime during his flight, the silence spell lifts and he takes a greedy breath of air through his mouth. The freedom of flying takes the edge off his vexation with Min Yoongi and he is whooping in delight by the time he lands at the base of the mountain, nearly skipping into Daegu. 

The sun has already set by the time he arrives at the inn. Inside, the hoard of Jasujeon disciples are all eating their dinner. With most of them dressed in yellow and gold, Jimin thinks they looks like a school of fish during feeding time. 

Jimin rocks up on his tip-toes, craning his neck for the innkeeper. He doesn’t see Kim Seokjin anywhere, but he does spot Jung Hoseok as he comes downstairs holding a wooden tray with empty ceramic bowls. Hoseok sees him, too, and makes a beeline for Jimin with a cheerful grin. 

“You’re back!”

Jimin laughs, shoulders rising to his ears in a careless shrug. “We ran into a bit of trouble getting into Horangi Recesses,” he admits freely. “Lost our invitation. Turns out, they’re really very inflexible there!”

A look of realization crosses Hoseok’s face, and he shifts to hold the tray with one hand, reaching into his pocket with the other. His hand then emerges with the very invitation Jimin was looking for! 

“You found it!”

“It was in Seokjin-sunbae’s room,” Hoseok says, handing the invitation over. “I didn’t want to throw it out. But if I’d known you needed it, I would have delivered it to you right away.”

Jimin gives the invitation a cursory inspection. “You’re a good sort, Hoseok-sunbae,” he decides with a relieved sigh. He carefully tucks the invitation away into his durumagi, patting his hand against his chest. 

Jimin diplomatically doesn’t add that he thinks Hoseok is much better than the rest of the Jasujeon Sect. But he thinks it’s implied in his tone, all the same. 

Jimin turns to leave, but halts as a thought strikes him. “Ah, a word from the wise! Tomorrow, when you have to go up the mountain, see if you can convince your peacock to fly,” Jimin recommends.

Hoseok frowns a little. “I thought we had to take the stairs.”

Jimin rolls his eyes. “Trust me, flying is much better. You’ll thank me for saving you so much time! Anyway, thanks for finding our invitation. I should get back quickly!”

Hoseok dips his head and Jimin hastens out of the inn. He glances at the sky, trying to gauge the time. If he pushes his flying speed, he can certainly be back at the entry gate before the moon rises. Determined, Jimin cuts through the market streets quickly. 

It’s only when he’s nearly out of Daegu that he remembers his brother and their disciples haven’t eaten. He should buy something quick to eat! There must be something at one of the food stalls that is filling and easily carried…

Sure enough, Jimin tracks down meat-filled buns and asks for them to be packed up. He places a warming talisman on the paper bag and makes his way to leave again. But then, his eye catches on the very welcome sight of a round, white ceramic jar with the proud logo of Emperor’s Smile painted across the side.

Well. A jar or two would certainly be welcome with food, wouldn’t it?

Jimin is admittedly tired, his spiritual energy flagging by the time he lands at the entry gate. He quickly tucks Jangnan into his belt, allowing himself a few minutes to catch his breath before he calls out for any disciple-guards on duty. But there is nobody around, at least not that he can see. 

And speaking of nobody around, Jeongguk and the Mugunghwa disciples are missing, too. Jimin taps his chin, pondering the situation. No smoke from campfires had been visible in the forest, and there isn’t any spiritual trace of energy from his group, either. Was an exception made, then?

Well, maybe the Horangi Sect has someone decent in it, after all!

Still, Jimin isn’t satisfied with the situation. He’d rather check in on his brother and the disciples himself. With that thought in mind, Jimin walks right up to the unguarded entry gate, one hand carrying two jugs of Emperor’s smile and the bag of meat buns -

And he smacks right into a ward, which propels him backward with a twang of cold energy. That explains the lack of guards , Jimin thinks, rubbing his forehead with a small groan. He stands at the entry gate for a few more moments before cautiously holding his hand out, waiting to feel the thin edge of the ward. 

Strong, but not the strongest Jimin has encountered. Not even as strong as wards Jimin has crafted himself, and the array isn’t foolproof either. Maybe for someone who didn’t know talismans as well as him, these wards would be a deterrent. But for Jimin, it’s almost child’s play to press his energy through key points in the ward, forcing his way through with a flash of icy blue yang energy. 

He grins to himself, humming an aimless tune as he waltzes into the Horangi Sect with ease. There are, of course, countless more steps leading up to the cluster of austere, beautiful buildings of the sect. Jimin’s eyes survey the artful white architecture of the buildings, the serene placement of courtyards and ponds, and the smooth footbridges and paths that ease through the mountainous landscape. Horangi Recesses is rather similar to Mugunghwa Pier in that the estate is sprawling and honors the natural landscape of the area. The Horangi Sect has built many of their buildings into the mountains directly, while others stand high above others, nearly reaching the clouds. The sect grounds are quiet and peaceful, everything in its place.

It’s as Jimin is passing through another gate, this one seeming to separate the outer buildings from the innermost residences, that he stops in his tracks, a chill racing up his spine. Slowly, he glances over his shoulder, his eyes lifting to the white-clad figure standing in the guard tower overlooking the outer sect grounds. 

Golden feline eyes narrow at him. Min Yoongi.

“Oh!” Jimin gasps, bringing a hand up to his chest. “You scared me!”

Judgemental silence answers him.

Awkwardly, Jimin turns around to face Yoongi fully, tilting his head back to see the young master better. “You’re here at this hour? Are you admiring the moon?” he asks with a chuckle. The moon is particularly round and bright tonight. If he’d been back home, this is certainly a night he would sprawl out on his dock to sip wine and soak in the moonlight. 

From Yoongi’s continued silence, it doesn’t seem like he came to see the moon.

Jimin licks his lips, thinking. “Ah!” he exclaims, reaching into his overcoat to present the invitation with a happy smile. “I found the invasion for my sect. See?”

At this, Yoongi jumps down from the tower, landing mere steps in front of Jimin with barely a flutter of his long hair. His gaze trails over Jimin, his mouth tightening in apparent displeasure. “Breaking the wards is forbidden,” Yoongi declares. “Alcohol is forbidden. Entering Horangi Recesses past sundown is forbidden."

“Eh?”

“Three violations of the rules.”

Jimin blinks rapidly. “Well, I’m new to your sect…so maybe you could just forget about it? Or, you could take a jar of Emperor’s Smile. I won’t tell anyone!”

Instead of words, Yoongi apparently decides the best way to answer Jimin is with his unsheathed sword. Quick as a flash, the tip of the gleaming silver blade is held beneath Jimin’s chin, the sword so bright it might as well be made of moonlight and stars. It would be a gorgeous sword to admire if it wasn’t at Jimin’s throat!

“Yah!”

“Bribery of a guard,” Yoongi asserts. “Another violation.”

With the tip of his finger, Jimin carefully nudges the sword away from his throat. He titters nervously, swimming in a deep sense of dismay about how deeply Min Yoongi seems to care about rules. Isn’t it going a little far to hold someone at sword-point for something so minor?

“Well,” Jimin replies. “I didn’t know. So maybe you can forgive my ignorance?”

When Min Yoongi swings his sword in response, it’s a clear enough answer that he doesn’t intend to convey forgiveness at all! Jimin leans back on reflex, his natural flexibility and speed allowing him to dodge the second fierce swing of Yoongi’s sword. Following the flow of movement, Jimin spins lightly on the balls of his feet and dances back several steps, still holding the jugs of wine and the bag of buns in one hand. 

Jimin puffs out his cheeks. “You know, you shouldn’t just attack someone - Ah!”

Two more steps back. A spin. Another dodge.

Jimin inexplicably finds himself smiling as he evades Min Yoongi’s sword, the blade shining nearly pure silver as it catches starlight with every swing and thrust. Yoongi’s swordsmanship is undeniable - Jimin didn’t think he would meet anyone with real skills in such a rigid sect! But Min Yoongi fights like a tiger, relentless and strong and graceful. Twin Tiger, indeed. 

Jimin calls Jangnan to his hand, laughing in delight when he uses the dark sheath of his sword to block Yoongi’s blade. He twists his wrist in a quick movement, using the strength of Yoongi’s attack to divert the course of the sword.

Yoongi’s feline eyes widen a fraction. Jimin would have missed it if he wasn’t so mesmerized by the other boy’s skills. Has Jimin surprised him? He isn’t even trying yet!

With renewed intent, Yoongi’s next attack is stronger and more targeted now that Jimin can meet him head-on. Or with his sword sheath, at least. Jimin doesn’t take Jangnan out for just any reason, and he doesn’t think a friendly spar like this is enough of a reason. He’s managing just fine with each deflection, the agility of his steps and his speed allowing him to outpace Yoongi by just a hair. 

Jimin leaps onto the roof of a nearby building, his boots quietly tapping and scraping against the tiles as he dances in and out of Yoongi’s range. He uses Jangnan’s sheath to push Yoongi back with a laugh, his body falling into the familiar joy of a challenging fight. His heart is racing, cheeks flushed. 

“You’re very good!” he tells Yoongi excitedly. “Nobody at home can quite keep up!”

Yoongi’s dark brows furrow, a minuscule movement. His eyes flash, and then the next swing of his sword avoids Jimin entirely - instead, it is aimed at the string tying the two jars of Emperor’s Smile together. 

Yoongi cuts the string and the jars separate. 

Jimin lets out a startled yelp, shifting his footing to catch the jars. One, he manages to hold onto by catching it with his sword sheath, where it balances precariously before he snatches it close. But the second jar is too far away and rolls off the roof, shattering onto the fine white pebbles of the courtyard below. 

“Min Yoongi!” Jimin shouts, affronted. “You! You pay me back!”

Yoongi lifts his chin. He isn’t ruffled or out of breath at all, looking just as flawless as when he had started chasing Jimin around with his sword. “No,” he says. His feline eyes drop to the jar Jimin cradles against his chest. “Get rid of it.”

Jimin makes a frustrated noise. He even stomps his foot on the roof. “You’re really unreasonable, you know!”

“Mn. Disobedient,” Yoongi says with a glare so pointed Jimin feels like his face is on fire.

Jimin sputters, taken utterly aback by the sheer audacity . “You’re calling me disobedient?” he cries, gesturing the hand holding the bag of buns wildly. “Well! You’re very stubborn and relentless! And - mmmmmf!”

The silence spell! Again! Jimin makes many loud, muffled noises, but Yoongi merely blinks at him slowly for several minutes. 

Then, he turns away with an elegant, economical movement, and says, “Let’s go.”

Jimin stares after Yoongi as the older boy lightly leaps from the roof, appalled, but follows after a moment anyway. What else can he do? He drags his feet behind Yoongi as he is led further into the sect, his face pulled into a sullen moue. 

The building Yoongi takes him to is large, obviously one of the more important places in Horangi Sect. The stone and wood of the building have been washed white, and inside the wood is the lightest pine. There are rounded arches with built-in ricepaper screens to make clever doorways that block the main part of the building from the most private portion. The decor inside is just as austere as Jimin has come to expect, with the thinnest grey silk fabric tapestries insulating the ceiling, simple bamboo mats, and the most minimalist collection of ceramic bowls and vases. There are books, scrolls, and ink stones lined neatly on shelves at the back of the room, while the center is dominated by a modest desk where two men sit, obviously in mid-conversation. 

The youngest of the two men is dressed more opulently than any of the Horangi Sect members Jimin has seen so far. His durumagi is threaded with silver, the silken fabric a deep shade of teal, and the hanbok underneath dyed a warm grey. The entirety of his hair is pulled into a topknot, held in place by the same white manggeon Yoongi wears and a matching silver sangtuwan with a subtly bejeweled binyeo. He looks like an older, friendlier version of Yoongi, the baby fat melted away from his cheeks and an amicable smile playing around his mouth. His eyes are a soft brown, not nearly as arresting as Yoongi’s tiger-like gold.

The second man is older, probably a few years older than Sect Leader Jeon. He has a neat beard and a severe expression, his hanbok and bearing very clearly that of a scholar rather than a cultivator. Nevertheless, Jimin can sense a strong well of power in this man, as well. 

“Samchon. Hyung-nim,” Yoongi greets lowly, bowing with due deference to his elders.

Jimin quickly bows as well, hopefully masking the surprise on his face. He’s been brought to the young Horangi Sect Leader directly? He didn’t think the rules he broke were so serious. Usually, when he angers someone - often, Madam Jeon - in Mugunghwa Pier, he’s sent to the family shrine to kneel after taking the physical punishment. Of course, Jimin has never had the opportunity to be punished by a different sect, so perhaps this is normal procedure…

“Yoongi-yah,” Min Chunghee says warmly. He looks between Jimin and Yoongi quizzically. 

Yoongi’s uncle, Min Jinwoong, folds his hands over his stomach, face implacable. This must be where Yoongi learned his shining personality from, Jimin supposes.

Yoongi straightens, clasping his hands behind his back. “Hyung-nim, this visiting disciple has broken several principles. Please decide punishment as you see fit.”

“Of course, Yoongi-yah. Tell me what principles have been broken.”

Jimin listens in forced muteness, a mutinous feeling growing in his chest, as Yoongi lists out all of his infractions. With each new rule broken, Min Chunghee looks less amused, while Min Jinwoong looks more enraged. Slanting a look at Yoongi, Jimin is dismayed to see his expression is still blank as he seals Jimin’s fate.

Min Chunghee inhales deeply. “I see. Well, does this doryeong have anything to say?”

“Mmf! Mm-mmmmph!”

Chunghee clears his throat. “Yoongi-yah. If you will.”

Yoongi, with his hands still behind his back, swirls one finger and with a silvery shimmer of energy, the silence spell is lifted.

Jimin immediately rubs his face, massaging the feeling back into his lips. He shoots a defensive scowl at Yoongi and loudly says, “He wasn’t telling you the whole truth! He attacked me without so much as a warning, all because I accidentally broke a few rules. But how could I have known? I’m new here! All I wanted to do was find my dongsaeng and my hubaes to make sure they were okay. Look, I even bought buns to feed them because none of us have eaten, but now I can’t find anyone - oh. Um, by the way, have you seen my sect?”

Chunghee’s eyes flicker. “Yoongi brought them to the guest quarters after seeking my approval earlier this evening.”

Jimin gasps, twisting around to look at Yoongi with amazement. “You did ? You should have said so! I would have enjoyed our spar much more if you had!”

Yoongi does not respond. 

Jimin pouts. “Well,” he starts glumly. “Even if you did do something nice, you still misled me! Should I really be punished for that?”

Min Jinwoong finally decides to speak. “Punishment is inevitable. For both of you. The rules of conduct will be copied three times each, due by sundown tomorrow.”

Oh. Not a beating then. Jimin feels much lighter at the prospect of punishment now, knowing that copying a book is much easier than bearing the discipline stick or a whipping. He quickly agrees to the punishment. He bows at the elders with enthusiasm. “Well!” he says brightly. “Now that I know my sect is safe, I’ll go now. I swear, I promise to follow all of your rules from now on!”

Chunghee lifts his brows. “Go?”

Jimin shrugs. “Well, sure. It’s late and I really only came in to check on my sect members. Since I’m not allowed to enter as a guest until dawn, I should sleep on the mountain so I don’t disturb anyone, right?” Jimin pauses, then giggles. “Or, um, disturb anyone more than I already have.”

Yoongi turns to stare at him.

“Doryeong, there’s no reason for you to sleep outside,” Chunghee says gently. “You will be escorted to the guest quarters. 

Jimin smiles beatifically. Sleeping in a bed is much better than sleeping outside, but he would have done it anyway to be less of an imposition so late at night. He’s slept in worse places, after all! Still, it’s nice that Chunghee will allow him to stay. Maybe the Horangi Sect isn’t so strict, and it’s really just Min Yoongi that is as immobile as the mountain. 

Jimin bows again. “That’s so kind of you. Thank you so…”

It’s as Jimin is bowing that he belatedly becomes aware of a strange void in one of the side rooms. He must have been too distracted by the silence spell earlier to notice, but now that the spell is gone, Jimin’s attention can catch on other things. 

The ricepaper screen separating the main room from the side room is opened partway, just enough for Jimin to see the shape of a body hidden beneath a sheet. The hand laying outside the sheet has distinct black veins, the fingers now blackened entirely. 

“Oh,” he breathes. “Oh, so his body is dead now.”

“Excuse me?”

Jimin turns back to the Mins, expression still slack from realization. He tilts his head. “What?”

It’s Min Jinwoong who looks at him with severe expectation. “You said his body is dead now . Elaborate.”

“Oh, well. When I saw him earlier, he was still breathing,” Jimin discloses. “But I guess the body can only live without the spirit for so long. His spiritual cognition was completely snapped, and now his body has followed.”

“Insightful,” Chunghee murmurs. “Have you come across this before? In Busan?”

Jimin shakes his head. “No. But isn’t it obvious what happened? This man encountered something truly wicked. His spirit was snatched right out of his body.”

Yoongi is still staring at him, much more intensely than before. Jimin can’t decide if he’s angry or not. But then, what does Yoongi have to be angry about now ? 

Min Jinwoong is grim as he nods. “That is precisely what happened. But,” he says sharply, his tone foreboding. “You should not divulge this information to anyone. Forget you saw anything.”

Jimin swallows and promises to keep quiet. And so starts his time with the Horangi Sect.

Chapter Text

“What an interesting disciple,” Chunghee comments not long after Park Jimin has been escorted to the guest quarters by one of the on-duty disciples. Yoongi’s brother has settled back down at his desk to sip on warm tea. His eyes glimmer with amusement as he looks at Yoongi, as if he has noticed something Yoongi has not. “What do you think, Yoongi-yah?”

“Noisy,” Yoongi mutters, thinking of the lithe Mugunghwa disciple who confronted him so directly. So shamelessly flaunting the rules Yoongi has lived by his whole life. 

He could also add provocative and intelligent and skilled, but he does not. He is discombobulated by the whirlwind that is Park Jimin, with his honey-blond hair tied into a wild, windswept ponytail with a blue ribbon and his quick reflexes, both mental and physical. More than anything, Yoongi hopes he will not have to contend with such a loud character too often. Yet, this hope is dashed as quickly as it comes - this year, Yoongi will also be attending the guest lectures, so outright avoidance of Park Jimin will not be possible.

He can keep his distance, though. 

“Hmph. Just like his mother,” his uncle says with no small amount of animosity. His brows are lowered into a familiar scowl, the one he wears when he must deal with difficult students. Jinwoong often shows his disapproval of people, but seldom so blatantly. Park Jimin’s mother must have left a deep impression.

Chunghee looks at their uncle with more open curiosity than Yoongi would ever be able to muster, lifting his cup to his mouth. “His mother?”

Jinwoong pulls a face, stroking his beard. “Wanderer Yon, one of the students of the Immortal Wanderer who came down from the mountain two decades ago. No doubt her son will be a troublemaker, too.”

“Uncle,” Chunghee chides with good humor. “ Do not judge impulsively .”

Jinwoong’s lips thin and he sighs gustily, looking away.

Yoongi tilts his head. Park Jimin’s grandmaster is the Immortal Wanderer. Could that explain the uncanny way Jimin had so easily deduced what happened to the disciple Yoongi brought back to Horangi Recesses? It had taken two of the Horangi Sect’s best healers to assess the disciple, and even his uncle had required a couple of hours of thought before reaching the same conclusion. 

Park Jimin is - unusual. A rare cultivation talent, to be sure, with such agile swordsmanship and enough talismanic skill to break through the Horangi Sect wards. Only Yoongi’s brother, who he has been training with since childhood, had ever matched him so evenly in a spar. And Jimin hadn’t even unsheathed his sword. 

But cultivation talent alone does not make righteous men or even great ones. It is clear to Yoongi that Jimin lacks discipline and that he is going to prove to be overwhelmingly obnoxious.

Except he was willing to sleep outside to belatedly honor the sect’s rules after verifying that his fellows were safe, Yoongi recalls, frowning to himself. That had been unexpected, as well, just like the striking silver shade of Jimin’s eyes, lit up in joy as he deftly evaded Yoongi’s powerful strikes.

To blatantly and unapologetically break the rules with good intentions. Yoongi has never encountered such a person. 

“Samchon,” Chunghee starts, the trepidation in his tone drawing Yoongi out of his thoughts. Chunghee’s eyes are lingering on the deceased disciple in the side room, the white sheet covering the body respectfully. “What do you think caused such a condition? What beast or ghoul could possibly do such a thing?”

Yoongi moves to kneel at the table quietly as his uncle ponders the question. He has been wondering the same thing since he was summoned by the disciples on the nighthunt. Apparently, the deceased disciple had been separated from the rest of the group, and when he was found later on, his condition was already severe. By the time Yoongi arrived, the disciple had stopped responding. 

There is no physical wound on the disciple. No blood, no curse marks - just black veins and an unsettling lack of spiritual energy. Emptiness. Yoongi has never heard of such a thing. 

“Where was the nighthunt?” his uncle asks. 

“A small village just north of our borders,” Yoongi responds.

Jinwoong’s expression becomes very grim. “North,” he murmurs. “Could it be…”

Chunghee blanches. “Surely not,” he says, hushed and wide-eyed. “Samchon, surely such a thing wouldn’t…”

“They have been annexing smaller sects for years. There have been tales of civilians being treated cruelly, and of rogue cultivators going missing within the territory. Lee Chungwoo fears none and would certainly dare to do anything, if he believed it would grant him power,” Jinwoong reasons grimly. “And I have never learned of any ghost, ghoul, or beast that could snatch a spirit from a body.”

Yoongi curls his hands into fists on his thighs. The Gom Sect. Judgment and gossip are against the rules, but it is hard not to listen to tales about the Gom Sect and it is harder still to not form any judgment about what he hears. 

Chunghee leans forward. “Do you think we’ve been targeted specifically?” he worries. The worry is not unfounded. Although the Horangi Sect does not share direct borders with the Gom Sect, many of the smaller sects between the two greater clans have been absorbed into the Gom Sect. Only the Kkachi Sect at the northwestern borders separate the Gom Sect from the rest of the cultivation world. If their disciple had been attacked on their northernmost border, one of the only places where the Gom Sect’s stolen territory may overlap with the seat of Horangi power, this could be an indication of a greater threat. 

“We should be cautious,” Jinwoong advises calmly. “Let us recall disciples on wandering hunts and keep future nighthunts strictly within our borders.”

Chunghee agrees, bowing to their uncle’s greater experience in leading the sect. As a young Sect Leader with barely two years of leadership under his belt, Chunghee still relies heavily on the elders of the clan to make many decisions. With the safety of the sect potentially at risk, it is no surprise that Chunghee would be reluctant to trust his own judgment unilaterally. 

“Yoongi, you will also have to desist your nighthunts until further notice,” his uncle says sternly. “You are the heir of the sect. Maintain your safety.”

Yoongi presses his lips together. The order is the very last thing he wants to hear. He finds great satisfaction in wandering the Horangi territory to help civilians with problems great and small. Often, he even ventures into areas that are not protected by sects or volunteers for nighthunts disciples of smaller sects are not powerful enough to complete. Being grounded in the sect for the foreseeable future is a burden he will have to bear, however. It is his duty.

“Mn.”

“Focus on the guest lectures, Yoongi-yah,” his brother urges, trying to put on a positive front. “Maybe you will make lasting friendships.”

Inexplicably, Yoongi thinks of Park Jimin - a loud voice and quicksilver emotions packaged with a silvery eye-smile. His fists tighten. 

Friends? No.

Jeongguk has been pacing around his rooms for what feels like several hours. At first, when Min Yoongi returned and allowed Jeongguk entry into Horangi Recesses with the Mugunghwa disciples, Jeongguk had been relieved. His relief was tempered by the concern he felt that Jimin would return to find him gone - but his brother is smart and crafty, so Jeongguk had been confident that Jimin would figure everything out. Jimin always has a solution.

But now, many hours have passed. Jimin should have returned by now. Jeongguk eyes the plate of rice, pickled vegetables, and steamed tofu that he had set aside for his brother, worrying at a hangnail with his teeth as he paces another round. He feels very young and uncertain, not at all like the future leader he is meant to be. 

Should he go ask if anyone has seen his brother? Or would Jimin have decided to sleep on the mountain instead, once he found Jeongguk and the others gone? 

Hyung, where are you?

Jeongguk is just mustering the conviction to go out and demand a search party when the door to the room slides open, revealing Jimin’s appreciative expression as he takes in their accommodations. Jimin grins when he sees Jeongguk, but all Jeongguk feels is a burst of indignation. 

“Where have you been?” Jeongguk doesn’t yell, but it’s a near-thing. He rushes up to his brother, taking him by the shoulders and spinning him around. No obvious injuries. Jeongguk hits Jimin’s shoulder repeatedly. “What took you so long? I thought you were flying down the mountain. Did you get lost, or something? Did you find the invitation -”

“Relax,” Jimin cuts in. He slides the door closed and hands Jeongguk a still-warm bag that smells of gently-seasoned pork. Inexplicably, Jimin is also holding a slender book in his hand, the title reading The Virtues of Conduct, which he tosses on his bed. “Look, I brought dinner!”

“Where were you?” Jeongguk repeats. He sets the bag on the little table that sits between two slightly elevated bed pallets, the white silk duvets already folded down for the night. 

Jimin, meanwhile, is slipping his boots off with a happy wiggle of his toes, stretching his back out until his spine pops audibly. His brother looks a little tired, his hair an unimaginable tangle around his face and his cheeks still ruddy from the wind outside. Jimin sets Jangan down beside his bed, undoes his belt, and drops his overcoat carelessly on the floor. And then he sprawls down next to the table, immediately digging into the rice and tofu with the naked kind of hunger he’s always had. 

Jeongguk silently takes out a meat bun, plopping it down on Jimin’s tray a bit harder than necessary. He retrieves a bun for himself and bites into it sulkily. 

Jimin offers a close-lipped smile and swallows, licking at the rice clinging to his lips. “Save some of those for our hubaes, alright?”

Jeongguk nods, folding the bag tightly. The meat buns are a good idea. Jeongguk has been dismayed to learn that the Horangi Sect are vegetarians, and he’s sure Jimin will take the news of no meat for a year with equal dismay. The buns will be a final treat for their disciples.

 “Well?” he urges impatiently as Jimin eats. “What happened? It’s almost midnight.”

At this, Jimin releases an aggrieved sigh. “Let me tell you, this sect is so rigid. I really don’t know how we’re going to survive the next year!”

“Hyung.”

Jimin fishes something out of his pocket, letting it clatter onto the table. “Hoseok-sunbae found our invitation at the inn, and I came right back here. Well, I bought the buns first, and then since it was there, I went ahead and got two pots of Emperor’s Smile -”

“You what?” Jeongguk peers around Jimin. “Where is it?”

“Min Yoongi broke one jar and confiscated the other,” Jimin informs him cheerfully around a bite of the meat bun. “See, when I got here, none of you were anywhere to be found. So I broke the wards a little bit to get in -”

“You broke -”

“-and then I was just wandering around for a while, trying to figure out where you might be. But then, out of nowhere, Min Yoongi shows up and starts hassling me!” Jimin exclaims, waving his hands around. He sounds utterly delighted by a story that is leaving Jeongguk with a mounting sense of horror. “He actually pulled his sword on me and we had a fight on the rooftops! He’s very good, you know! He pounces! And his strength is nothing to laugh at! But anyway, I didn’t want to show off too much, so I didn’t take Jangnan out. If I had, I might have won! Yoongi got the better of me, though, and now we don’t have any alcohol.”

Jeongguk rubs his forehead aggressively. “So, let me check. You went to Daegu, found our invitation, broke into the sect, and then had a swordfight with the second young master of the sect?” When Jimin nods happily, Jeongguk feels acute pain in his head. “Oh, this is so bad. So, so bad.”

“It is too bad,” Jimin agrees. “I was looking forward to that wine. People say the loveliest things about it.”

“That is not what I’m talking about,” Jeongguk despairs. 

“I wasn’t punished too badly,” Jimin says flippantly, polishing off his meal. “What are you so worried about?”

Jeongguk jerks his head up, eyes wide. “Wait, what do you mean you were punished?”

Jimin wrinkles his nose. He gestures to the book he tossed down so carelessly earlier. “Sect Leader Min assigned me copying that I have to turn in tomorrow.”

“Sect Leader - when did you meet the Sect Leader ?” Jeongguk cries. “Hyung! What happened ?”

“I met Sect Leader Min after Yoongi won our duel,” Jimin says matter-of-factly. “He performed that dastardly silence spell again - it’s really so rude - and then took me to his elders for punishment. It’s not so bad. Lines are much better than the discipline stick!”

Jeongguk stares at his brother for several long moments, trying to keep his anxiety at bay. Jimin was only gone for a few hours and yet so much happened. He isn’t sure what’s more alarming - getting into a fight with the heir of their host sect, or being taken for punishment on their first night as guests in a new sect. If his mother hears about this…

Jimin, of course, doesn’t seem too bothered by it. These are things he easily lets roll off his back, negative events are forgotten as quickly as they happen. It is the major result of his mother’s approach to dealing with his brother. Jimin is so inured to negative consequences that anything short of a punishment that leaves him bedridden is easily set aside - and even then, Jimin might still be unbothered since he can heal so quickly.

“You have to be careful, hyung,” Jeongguk urges. 

“You worry too much, Gguk-ah.”

Jeongguk grumbles. “Someone has to…”

Jimin pats his full stomach, letting out a contented sigh. “Oh. Remember that not-dead disciple from earlier?”

Jeongguk frowns, bracing himself for more bad news.

Jimin glances around the room, as if checking for privacy, and then leans forward, gesturing for Jeongguk to meet him halfway. “Sect Leader Min says I’m not supposed to say anything, but you’re my brother,” Jimin reasons, immediately piquing Jeongguk’s curiosity. “Earlier, I saw that disciple again, and this time he was dead. Very dead. The Mins seem to think it might have something to do with the Gom Sect…”

Jeongguk’s stomach churns. The Gom Sect, a specter looming over the entire cultivation world. Jimin might not spare two thoughts for the political implications if such an allegation is true, but Jeongguk is ever-aware of how the political tides may impact his future. War has been on the horizon since he and Jimin were children - but is war closer now?

“That disciple…the black veins and blackened flesh…” Jimin tilts his head back, lips pursed in thought. “It’s so odd. I wonder what caused such a thing…No spiritual energy, but then a lack of spiritual energy isn’t necessarily a lack of any energy. Beasts and ghouls don’t have spiritual energy, either…and there was a trace of yin energy, so small…”

“Hyung,” Jeongguk warns.

“Just…isn’t it curious? I wonder what type of power could make such a thing happen,” Jimin says, shrugging carelessly. 

From anyone else, it would simply be commentary about a strange event. But from Jimin, Jeongguk can detect the makings of more than idle curiosity. He can easily see how Jimin’s over-active mind has latched onto the problem, trying to work out a cause and effect. 

“Curiosity isn’t always a good thing,” Jeongguk reminds him. 

Jimin laughs. “Stop worrying about me! I’m not going to experiment with anything so wicked! Even I’m not curious enough for that!”

Jeongguk hopes that’s true. 

Taehyung carefully lines up his fan collection on the shelf near his bed pallet. He has inspected each one for damage sustained during travel, but the fans have arrived satisfactorily intact. On the other side of the room, Eunwoo is polishing his sword methodically, a peaceful expression leaving him soft and approachable. 

Taehyung crosses the room, making himself a place on Eunwoo’s bed. They have only just arrived and already, the bed carries a gentle citrus scent that makes Taehyung feel safe. He turns, curling onto his side, and watching Eunwoo with a lidded gaze. 

“Do you think I’ll be allowed back home if I fail?”

Eunwoo’s lip quirks to the side. “Do you intend to fail?”

“I’m not sure. Maybe,” Taehyung muses. “If I fail, would that mean my brother would give up hassling me about saber training?”

“He might hassle you more,” Eunwoo points out.

Taehyung groans miserably. “Then does that mean I’ll actually have to study? Eunwoo-yah, you know I’m not good at tests!”

At this, Eunwoo sets his sword aside and twists to face Taehyung. His smile is gentle, but knowing as he tucks Taehyung’s loose curls behind his ear, his thumb lingering on Taehyung’s jaw. Taehyung suppresses a shiver. 

“You and I both know you could study and pass any exam you want to. You study the arts well enough and you’ve never forgotten anything you’ve read. You just don’t want to apply yourself,” Eunwoo says. “And I understand why. But your brother does not.”

“Hyung doesn’t want to understand me,” Taehyung mutters. He grabs Eunwoo’s wrist, holding his companion’s hand to cheek. “I don’t even know why he sent me here. He thinks I’m a good-for-nothing, anyway, so what will the Horangi lectures change? Just because he’s close to Chunghee-hyung…”

Well, it’s because his hyung is close to Sect Leader Min that Taehyung was sent here, probably. As Kim Byunghyun’s sworn brother, Min Chunghee has probably been tasked with keeping an eye on Taehyung - perhaps even encouraging Taehyung to cultivate with the saber or even a sword. Chunghee is nice enough that Taehyung would maybe comply, but his deep-set fear of sword-style cultivation with his sect’s cultivation style is pervasive enough that he can barely bring himself to hold a blade of any type. Taehyung can meditate, then, or perhaps learn the musical cultivation the Horangi Sect is so well-known for. 

“You should try to learn something,” Eunwoo encourages. “If not, your brother may find ways to force you.”

“He hasn’t yet.”

“Every man only has so much patience, Taehyung-ah.”

Taehyung sighs, releasing Eunwoo to roll on his back and stare up at the white-washed ceiling. “Maybe I can make friends while I’m here. Pretty much all the heirs from the major and minor clans are here. Bolstering our alliances isn’t a bad thing, so at least I won’t be wasting my time.”

Eunwoo chuckles and stands. “That’s the spirit.”

While Eunwoo moves around the room, checking the gift for the Horangi Sect and ensuring their belongings are secure, Taehyung quietly thinks about how he’s going to fly under the radar here. Playing the part of the clueless, talentless young master is familiar to him, and he sees no reason why that must change.

But he’s heard many tales of the Gom Sect over the last several months. His informants are increasingly concerned about how much power Lee Chungwoo is amassing - and about how many people have gone missing, entire villages turned into ghost towns. Something is happening, something big, and Taehyung is determined to secure as many allies for the Kkachi Sect as he can. 

After all, his sect is closest to Seoul, sitting under the shadow of the Gom Sect and acting as the first barrier between the Gom Sect and the rest of the cultivation world. If anyone needs strong allies, it’s the Kkachi Sect. Finding allies in his peers is a good first step to securing the safety of his people. 

Taehyung protects his territory differently than Byunghyun, but his way is just as important. Just because his brother prefers to lead the sect with brute force doesn’t mean his method is the best way.

Maybe Taehyung will be able to find like-minded peers. He found Eunwoo, so anything is possible.

Hoseok finishes paying the tab for the Jasujeon disciples and assures the innkeeper that they will be departing early in the morning. As he makes his way to the stairs, he cheerfully reminds his fellow disciples to go to bed early so they don’t delay their young master. He gets a slew of nods and groans, many disciples waving him away. 

Hoseok keeps a pleasant expression until he is halfway up the stairs. Out of sight, he drops his face into something neutral and navigates through the inn hallways to report back to Seokjin.

When he joined the Jasujeon Sect, his primary motivation had been the generous dispensation given to the outer disciples, which he still faithfully sent to his family each month. But Hoseok had not anticipated the amount of competition between the disciples - not just for cultivation training, but for social positions, too. He learned early on that he would need to cultivate a public persona along with his other skills, and so he learned how to put on a happy, approachable mask that put other disciples at ease. It’s worked well so far. Even though Hoseok trains harder than the others and even though he is blatantly favored to be the next head disciple, he is never regarded with open jealousy. He’s made himself too likable.

Hoseok knocks perfunctorily on Seokjin’s door, sliding it open almost immediately. Seokjin is staring out the window, his hair halfway undone, his expression pensive. He looks over his shoulder, one eyebrow lifted. 

“You’re back soon,” he observes.

Hoseok closes the door with a wry smile. “I didn’t have to go far to return the invitation. One of the Mugunghwa disciples, Park Jimin, had already arrived when I was about to leave.”

Anyone else would have missed the way Seokjin’s wide shoulders relaxed at this. And for anyone else, Seokjin might have carefully hidden his relief. But Hoseok enjoys a special privilege - a friendship privilege. 

He isn’t sure what it is about him that caught Kim Seokjin’s eye, or what it was that prompted the young master to kindle a friendship with him. Maybe because Hoseok was obvious in his desire to not engage in any of the ladder climbing that went on in the sect. Maybe Seokjin found a kindred spirit in him. He has no idea and knowing Seokjin, he’ll never actually say it.

All Hoseok knows is that he had been training his sword forms one day and Seokjin had invited him to spar. And from then on, Seokjin called on him more than anyone else, so much so that every other disciple came to Hoseok if they needed to speak with the third young master of the sect.

Whatever the reason, it had rapidly become clear to Hoseok that Seokjin needed a friend, more than anything else. Growing up in the gilded halls of the Jasujeon Sect couldn’t have been easy, and Seokjin’s general…Seokjin-ness is evidence enough of this.

His awkward friend hides all of his poor social skills behind a veneer of arrogance. One day, Hoseok is certain he’ll manage to get Seokjin to hold a conversation like a normal person with someone other than him. Like maybe Seokjin’s betrothed. After today, Hoseok is convinced this should be his goal for his hyung’s socialization - he clearly needs help in this area.

“It was nice of you to think about returning the invitation,” Hoseok comments casually, folding himself down in front of the tea table. He removes the teapot from the brazier, swirling the hot water around a few times as he slides two small cups closer. 

Seokjin curls his lip. “I wasn’t being nice. It was just…the right thing to do.”

“Like I said,” Hoseok grins. He pours two cups of tea. “Maybe this gesture will make up for how awkward that meeting in the hallway was.”

Seokjin’s ears turn bright red. He glares at Hoseok, sitting down across the table with an unrefined temper. He angrily drinks the tea that Hoseok has poured.

“It wasn’t awkward,” Seokjin denies. 

“It was very awkward, hyung,” Hoseok tells him. “It was almost painful to watch.”

“It wasn’t that bad,” Seokjin tries, but the argument is weak.

“You didn’t say anything when that Dal-whoever was getting lippy,” Hoseok points out. “You didn’t even look at him. Or couldn’t look at him?”

Seokjin puffs up defensively. “I glanced!” And a single glance was just enough to know that his betrothed was still little more than a child. A teenager still growing into his limbs with eyes that are still too wide and round. An adolescent who is still clearly infatuated with Seokjin’s looks.

Seokjin doesn’t know what to do with the naked admiration Jeon Jeongguk wears on his sleeves, just like he doesn’t know how to respond to the letters or little gifts that show up at Jasujeon Tower occasionally. 

He doesn’t know his betrothed, but he also isn’t sure he wants to know him yet. Too many years of listening to his eldest brother chortle about a “child groom” have made Seokjin hyperaware of the age difference between him and Jeongguk. A large part of him hopes to simply…ignore Jeongguk until he reaches adulthood. By then, his betrothed will be a fully-formed person and Seokjin won’t need to watch the youthful innocence fade from his eyes as he encounters the dispassionate cruelty of the world. 

He doesn’t think that plan will work, now. Seokjin hadn’t anticipated Jeongguk being present at the Horangi lectures - but then, it seems like Jeongguk is just old enough and Seokjin is just young enough to attend. Avoidance will be difficult when they must share a lecture hall and communal space. 

Seokjin eyes Hoseok thoughtfully. His favored disciple and closest friend is good with people. He could run interference. 

Unfortunately, Hoseok knows him too well by now. He lifts his hands, shaking his head with a teasing smile. “Oh, no. I’m not helping any more than absolutely necessary. You’re going to marry him, so you have to learn how to deal with him.”

Seokjin slides his teacup away. “How can I even do that?”

“Try looking at him,” Hoseok jibes.

“I will rend you with my sword,” Seokjin threatens.

Hoseok laughs, pushing away from the table. “Just treat him like a person, hyung,” he suggests, preparing to leave for his own room for the rest of the night. “It’s not hard. He clearly wants to interact with you. If you can talk to me, you can talk to him.”

But it’s different, Seokjin thinks. I’m not marrying you. 

Talking to Hoseok, even being friends with Hoseok, is so much easier. With Hoseok, there isn’t the weight of a political alliance failing if he messes up. If Seokjin fumbles and makes Hoseok mad, all his friend can do is ignore him for a day. If Seokjin hurts Jeongguk’s feelings, he could jeopardize the whole engagement - and all of the hopes that have been pinned on the marriage alliance. Never mind the fact that Jeongguk clearly has feelings that he may want to have returned in the future. It’s a lot of pressure, and it leaves Seokjin tongue-tied. 

“Oh, right,” Hoseok says, halting at the door and turning around with a furrowed brow. “That fellow, Jimin. He said we should fly up the mountain instead of walking?”

Seokjin snorts. From his single interaction with Park Jimin several years ago, this advice sounds very typical of him. Well-intentioned, but completely against the set rules.  “I’m sure flying would be better,” Seokjin agrees. “But we’ll be trekking up the mountain, anyway. No need to test the Horangi Sect this early on. Besides, how bad can it be?”

The next day, halfway up the mountain, Seokjin dearly regrets his decision.

Namjoon straightens the collar of his dark burgundy durumagi, correcting his posture and relaxing his face into a familiar mask that veils his thoughts. He has been summoned by the Gom Sect Leader, which can either spell a new impossible task or not-so-vague threats to ensure his continued loyalty to Lee Chungwoo. Today, given the fear in the servant’s eyes as they scurry around the manner, Namjoon can guess the Sect Leader’s mood is erring on the side of viciously unpredictable. 

Namjoon adjusts his expectations accordingly and enters the main hall calmly, bowing immediately to the dark throne where Lee Chungwoo sits. He does not make eye contact as he stands, keeping his gaze lowered to the floor. 

“You’re late,” Lee Chungwoo hisses. “Kneel!”

Namjoon drops to his knees, his heart in his throat. “Apologies, Sect Leader,” he says, dipping his head even further. “I was in the middle of surgery when I was summoned. One of your subjects…”

“Oh? And how did my little experiment fare?”

Namjoon’s stomach turns. What Lee Chungwoo is doing to the prisoners he has captured, the experiments he is running on them with that awful blackened fairy heart is completely inhumane. He doesn’t know what the end goal of these experiments is, but he has been ordered to examine the subjects after Chungwoo has finished with them. 

Namjoon’s main assignment is to study what large dosages of yin energy does to a person. The results of his examinations - and his efforts to save the subjects - changes drastically based on what Chungwoo has done to them. Sometimes, Namjoon is able to clear the yin energy away with medicine, and sometimes, the subjects are so far gone that he can only offer them comfort in their final moments. Recently, Chungwoo has been doing something that seems to alter the tether between the mind and the body, but the method of creating these puppets is also so crude that it destroys the organs and flesh with yin poisoning, most of which vanishes as soon as the body dies. 

Namjoon swallows. “Unfortunately, the subject did not make it. I was unable to revive him.“

Lee Chungwoo makes a sound of acknowledgment. Namjoon doesn’t know whether this sound is positive or negative, but he takes it to mean that the Sect Leader isn’t bothered by Namjoon’s inability to save a life. Not the way Namjoon is bothered.

“I have made progress on your treatments,” Namjoon offers lowly. “A new tea that will balance your qi. I can have it sent to your quarters.”

“Excellent. But that isn’t why I summoned you,” Chungwoo says. There is something in his tone, something leading and almost charming, like he’s about to surprise Namjoon with something good. “You will be attending the Horangi lectures.”

Namjoon stills. The Horangi lectures. Nobody in the Gom Sect has attended those lectures in the last fifty years, to Namjoon’s knowledge. The official stance is that there is nothing the Horangi Sect can teach the Gom Sect since the Gom Sect is so superior in knowledge and power. To keep sect relations neutral, the Horangi Sect nevertheless offers the same invitation every five years, but the invitation is always rejected. 

Suspicion blooms in Namjoon’s mind. 

“I would be honored to attend. Thank you for the opportunity, Sect Leader,” he says carefully. 

“You won’t be there for learning,” Chungwoo tells him. “I need you to find something for me.”

Namjoon’s brow furrows. 

Chungwoo stands from his throne and slowly walks down the stairs. He circles around Namjoon, the motion lazy but still so threatening. “The yin metal I collected from your fairy statue is too weak for my goals. But upon examination, I have discovered this piece is only one part of a whole. There are other pieces spread among this land. Historical records indicate those stuck-up monks may have obtained a piece some time ago. I want you to find it for me and bring it back.”

Namjoon’s mind is racing. More than one piece of the yin metal - but what happens when pieces are combined? How many more pieces are there? What does Lee Chungwoo intend to do with these pieces? What is he trying to do with the test subjects he forces Namjoon to examine? What is the goal?

But Namjoon is in no position to refuse. His village and his brother depend on him too much for him to do anything but accept his new command. 

“Where should I look? How will I know I’ve found it?” he asks. 

“You’re the most gifted doctor in a generation. I’m sure you’ll figure it out,” Chungwoo says dismissively. “You leave tomorrow at dawn. Bring something from the treasure room for a gift.”

Tomorrow? So soon? 

“My patients…”

“I don’t care if they live or die.”

But I care, Namjoon thinks. He’ll have to give orders to the other doctors he works with and leave notes for which treatments will be best since he won’t have time to treat anyone personally before he leaves. 

He’s leaving. Oh.

“Sect Leader,” Namjoon starts, lowering himself into an even deeper bow. “Please permit me to bring my brother with me.”

Lee Chungwoo laughs uproariously. The sound echoes off the dark walls of the main hall, so loud and thunderous that Namjoon can only shiver and hope he doesn’t flinch too openly. “Ah, are you afraid of your brother being bullied when you’re gone?”

Namjoon licks his lips. “Of course not. The Gom Sect is honorable,” he lies. “But Dohoon has a special constitution that other doctors will not know how to treat. I would feel more comfortable having him with me.”

“Ah, yes. That special constitution,” Chungwoo muses darkly. “Actually, it may be a good idea to bring Dohoon along. He’s always been very in tune with the yin metal. He could prove helpful.”

Namjoon tramps down the indignant anger that rises in his chest. Keeping his expression carefully blank, he lowers himself once again for the sect leader. “Thank you for your foresight and mercy.”

Later, after he is dismissed and ordered to pack for his year-long trip, Namjoon wars with himself about what he should do. Leaving Seoul is a welcome reprieve, and he is also glad to escape from the daily stress of trying to save patients that have been cursed with yin energy. But his assignment is a new type of threat. If Namjoon succeeds, he may make Lee Chungwoo more powerful; if Namjoon fails, he jeopardizes his brother and his small sect in Ilsan.

The world, or his family. Which is more important?

Namjoon is grim as the answer solidifies in his mind.

Chapter Text

“Five in the morning,” Jimin whines when one of the Horangi disciples comes to the guest quarters to rouse everyone well before the sun comes up. He sits up in bed with heavy grit in his eyes, shell-shocked by the wake-up call.

In the next bed over, Jeongguk pulls the covers over his head and groans loudly.

“Five in the morning ,” Jimin mutters, shuffling with the other hundred guest disciples as they are herded to the dining hall. Inside the large room, the Horangi junior disciples are already eating in complete silence, each of them dressed in white with white ribbons in their hair and plain white manggeon fixed across their foreheads. The only sound in the room is the quiet clink of wooden chopsticks against ceramic bowls and the soft susurration of herbal soup being slurped. 

Jimin drops down heavily next to Jeongguk, who is scowling out at the room with great offense. He is even less of a morning person than Jimin is. In front of each seat is a bowl of plain rice, a clear broth soup with a strong medicinal smell, and root vegetables that have been sauteed in sesame oil, which is the most flavor afforded for the meal.

“Five in the morning for this ,” Jimin says under his breath.

Jeongguk grunts. They plow through the flavorless food without verbal complaint, but like the rest of the guest disciples, they are not so good at hiding how they feel about the under-seasoned food. 

Surely, giving up meat is enough for ascetics, Jimin thinks woefully. Must they also give up chili oil? Gochujang?

“Five in the morning,” Jimin repeats, woeful. He feels like crying as he and the rest of the guest disciples are shuffled into the grand meeting hall where the opening ceremony of the lectures will take place. “Every morning. For a year, Gguk-ah. I’m not going to survive!”

Jeongguk rubs at his bleary eyes. He still hasn’t uttered a word for all the time he’s been awake. Jimin isn’t even sure his little brother is awake. He could very well be sleepwalking for all Jimin knows. 

Near him, a boy with a deep emerald magpie stitched into the shoulders of his white durumagi makes a low noise of agreement. Jimin, recognizing the sound of a similarly-agonized soul, shares of mournful look with the handsome, honey-skinned boy. 

“Five in the morning,” the Kkachi Sect disciple laments. 

He and Jimin nod at each other with common misfortune before they are directed to different sides of the room. It takes some time for the older Horangi disciples to wrangle the guest disciples into order, although the color-coding of the guest disciples at least ensures groups are easily kept together. Each of the guest disciples wears a white durumagi and the only feature that differentiates between sects is the elaborate embroidery of sect symbols on the lapels and shoulders of the garment and the color of the hanbok underneath the overcoat.  The Mugunghwa disciples all have a beautifully elegant hibiscus in a deep shade of violet; under the white durumagi, they each wear hanbok in a similar shade. Jimin is discomfited to match his brother and hubaes so closely. Never has he matched his sect so completely. It makes him feel strange, somehow like an interloper.

When the grand hall is organized sufficiently, several distinguished Horangi Sect members enter the hall. Their dignified air is matched by the solemnity of their expressions. At the helm is the young sect leader, Min Chunghee, who smiles genially. Jimin is convinced Chunghee is the only one in the entire sect who knows how to move the muscles in his face.

“Welcome. Please, everyone, be seated,” he says gently after the guest disciples have made respectful bows. He waits until they have all folded themselves into neat rows before he steps forward, hands clasped behind his back. On his hip is a silver-sheathed sword with a teal tassel and a long danso carved out of cloudy jade. “It is my great honor to receive you for our guest lectures. We sincerely hope you will leave these lectures with knowledge and a circumspect understanding of how to serve the people of this land with righteousness. Please, allow me to introduce your teachers…”

The headteacher is none other than Min Jinwoong, who is just as severe in the morning as he is late at night. He glowers down at all of them, his beard twitching as he explains he will be overseeing their education. Their education, it seems, starts with a recitation of the rules of the Horangi Sect. 

All of the rules. 

As Min Jinwoong paces through the aisles of students, each step followed by one of the three thousand rules of the Horangi Sect, Jimin finds his mind falling into a blank state. It isn’t mediation. It’s a pervading sense of boredom, as if each new rule is chasing the thoughts right out of his head. He just stares forward, bleary-eyed and trying not to yawn too obviously, his posture slouching more and more by the minute. 

“... Do not act impulsively. Do not be prideful. Do not boast…”

How do these people live with so many rules? Jimin honestly wants to know.

His eyes wander around the room. Many disciples seem to be in a similar state of stupefaction. The Kkachi disciple from earlier has taken out a fan, which he holds in front of his face to hide a yawn. Hoseok-sunbae, who is seated on the far side of the room with the other Jasujeon disciples, seems to be following Kim Seokjin’s lead by holding his posture together for the sake of dignity, if nothing else. Jimin doubts any of them are paying any more attention to these so-lauded rules than he is. Jeongguk, for sure, is barely even cognizant, his eyes glazed over and a crease from his pillow still embedded in his cheek.

The only exception seems to be the small cluster of Horangi disciples who sit at the front of the room. With their matching manggeon and white hair ribbons and spotless durumagi with an embroidered black tiger lounging across their shoulders, each of them listens to the rules attentively. Even though they’ve probably heard these rules hundreds of times before, there doesn’t seem to be any lack of attention. 

Jimin is dumbfounded by it. He finds himself looking at Min Yoongi’s back, wondering how anyone could possibly hold such a proper posture for such a long time. But then, Min Yoongi seems to be above the reach of ordinary men with his flawless moon-pale skin and his glossy onyx hair and his sharp golden eyes, which flick back to Jimin when he feels the weight of Jimin’s stare.

Jimin jolts in place and then smiles. 

Yoongi turns away decisively. 

Jimin deflates, his lips curling into a pout. 

“ ...Do not be picky about food. Do not be overly happy. Do not be overly sad…”

Do they even regulate emotions ? Jimin twists his head to stare at Min Jinwoong, who is steadily working his way through the next dozen precepts, then looks back at Yoongi. Well. That explains it .

Jimin doesn’t know how long it takes for Min Jinwoong to get through the recitation of three thousand rules. It takes a while. By the time he finishes, the sun has finally broken through the trees outside and enters the room with soft golden light, which does a decent job of rousing disciples who were still listless with sleepiness. 

Jeongguk, at the very least, seems more awake, if not a little baffled by his surroundings. Jimin was right - his brother more or less sleepwalked through the entire morning. If only Jimin was so lucky!

Once finished, Min Jinwoong moves to stand behind his nephew, allowing the Horangi Sect Leader to resume his welcome speech. There are a lot of flowery welcoming words thrown around before Min Chunghee calls for the first sect to formally greet him and the Horangi teachers. And so goes the next hour or so of Jimin’s life, each sect sending its heir and head disciple up with a formal greeting and a gift to honor the Horangi Sect for hosting the lectures. 

Halfway through this process, a thought clicks in the back of Jimin’s mind and he gasps. The gift! He forgot the gift! He pats as frantically - yet subtly - as he can at his body, hoping that maybe the gift for the Horangi Sect will magically appear. But it’s not there!

Jimin leans over slightly. “Jeongguk-ah,” he whispers urgently out the side of his mouth. “The gift…”

Jeongguk makes a low, tired noise. He reaches into his overcoat and pulls out the ancient scroll the Mugunghwa Sect intends to gift to the Horangi Sect. Jeongguk shoves it at Jimin, grumpy.

Jimin squints at his brother. His sense of duty must run so deep for Jeongguk to have remembered the gift even in his mostly-asleep state! Jimin takes the gift, careful not to damage it in any way. The timing is good because they are the next sect called forth.

Jeongguk stands first and Jimin follows, staying behind his brother and a little to the right. They go to the front of the meeting hall and bow simultaneously, deeply to show their respect to the teachers and sect leaders. 

“Thank you for your invitation to these lectures. I am Jeon Jeongguk of the Mugunghwa Sect and this is our head disciple, Park Jimin. We present the wise Horangi Sect with a scroll of early sword forms practiced by the first Mugunghwa disciples.”

Jimin passes the ancient scroll to the Horangi disciple who has been collecting gifts during the opening ceremony. He breathes a sigh of relief once the scroll is no longer in his hands. Really, Jimin shouldn’t be in charge of anything so precious! 

Min Chunghee offers a benign smile and opens his mouth, probably preparing to offer the same polite words he has given every sect heir, but there is a commotion at the entrance of the room that has his mouth clicking shut. Even though Jimin has only been in the Horangi Sect for a few days, he can recognize how disturbing it is to hear any noise - lots of shouting and grunts, followed by stomping boots and angry mutters. His hackles rise, a hand falling to Jangnan’s hilt as he edges closer to Jeongguk. 

Who is causing a problem in Horangi Recesses?

A group of surly-faced people crowds the entryway, each dressed in tell-tale red and black durumagi. The group gives off a palpable sense of menace and cruelty. At the helm is a sour-faced man with a sneer on his wide-set face and a golden bear tassel at his waist. 

The Gom Sect. 

“I believe the Horangi Sect is the most difficult sect to enter. What’s so special about your mountain, anyway?” the young man asks rhetorically. He’s outright glaring at Min Chunghee, a mean smirk crossing his narrow mouth. “Your guards…they didn’t show me the respect I’m due. But don’t worry. I persuaded them. They won’t soon forget my lesson.”

Jimin has a feeling this persuasion probably landed a few Horangi disciples in the infirmary. He’s only heard of the heavy-handed tyranny of the Gom Sect, but to witness it firsthand is…

Breaking into a sect and harming disciples! In broad daylight! The gall is alarming. 

Min Chunghee walks several steps forward, which causes Jeongguk and Jimin to step aside. Chunghee keeps a measured distance and his voice is level when he speaks, the genial smile never leaving his face. “My apologies for your poor reception. We did not realize the Gom Sect would be attending the lectures, or else we would have delayed the opening ceremony.”

The young man scoffs loudly. “Oh, no. You’re mistaken. I, Lee Donggun, have no need to attend your little lectures, and there is no need for the Gom Sect to entertain your petty classes. We, the Gom Sect, are always educating others.”

Educating them in what ? Jimin wonders. How to be bad at cultivation ? There isn’t much that’s heard about the type of nighthunts that happen in Gom territory, but Jimin has been around enough to know that hunts that are too difficult for Gom disciples are often driven into other sect lands. It’s not honorable, but then - the Gom Sect clearly lacks honor, along with manners. And that’s coming from Jimin , who treats gentry manners as an afterthought half the time!

Lee Donggun continues, scraping his muddied boots across the floor. “The ones attending will be the Sonamu Sect, a small sect loyal to our clan. Surely, you will allow them to attend.”

“So arrogant,” someone murmurs, and Jimin’s eyes dart up to the Kkachi disciple from before who had yawned behind his fan. One of the other Kkachi disciples, a boy with an equally handsome face, is quick to hush him, moving to hide the fan-holding boy behind his body. 

Fortunately, it doesn’t seem like the Kkachi disciple was heard. Good. The boy looks too soft to go up against the likes of Lee Donggun.

Jeongguk, on the other hand, is radiating a type of fury he certainly learned from his mother. His expression is taut, all the muscles in his face tense, and his eyes are flashing. Many others in the room are also visibly angry - Kim Seokjin and Jung Hoseok both look strained, and Min Yoongi is practically seething with cold disapproval. The Horangi teachers and Min Jinwoong all appear agitated, as well. 

Jimin just has to say something. Someone has to say something!

“Is this the education of the Gom Sect, then?” he asks loudly. “Disrupting the salute of another great sect?”

Lee Donggun turns to him with a curled lip. Behind him, a disciple dressed in burnt orange and soft browns - notably, a different color than the rest of the Gom disciples - stiffens. 

“And who are you to talk to me?” Donggun sneers. 

Jimin lifts his chin. “Park Jimin, head disciple of the Mugunghwa Sect,” he answers boldly. He meets Donggun’s glare squarely. “You interrupted my dongsaeng. Clearly, the so-called education of the Gom Sect is lacking. Maybe you should attend these lectures, along with your underlings.”

Lee Donggun responds with a slow, cruel smile. There is something unstable in the pitch-dark of his small eyes. “So daring. Today, I’ll teach you how to respect your betters. You will learn how the Gom Sect and our Lee Clan deals with upstarts like you!”

And with that, Donggun draws his sword, although not with any particular grace. He holds it aloft and points it right at Jimin. In answer, Jimin is quick to call Jangnan to hand, swiftly bringing his blade up in challenge. Jeongguk follows just as fast, subtly adjusting his posture into the favored starting stance for Mugunghwa sword forms. The Kkachi disciple who is guarding the fan-holder also draws his sword, although with more caution. Many other guest disciples also bring out their blades, and even some Horangi disciples.

Min Yoongi does not. But his hand does close around the hilt of his sword. Jimin knows first-hand how quickly Yoongi can draw his blade, so for him to even be holding the hilt is the equivalent of what most others have done. 

Jimin feels a thrill, the promise of a fight settling a smirk across his face. The sight of it must infuriate Donggun, because he practically growls.

“Lee doreyon-nim,” Jeongguk says sharply. “This is just a minor disagreement. Why are you so aggressive?”

Donggun chortles, and the Gom disciples all hold up their swords, ready to attack. “A small disagreement, you say? When it’s obvious the Mugunghwa Sect is too stupid to show respect to its betters? If I pass up this opportunity to teach you all a lesson, how will you ever learn? Now-”

The low sound of a danso cuts into the conversation. The short, deep-toned trill sends a shiver up Jimin’s spine, which is followed by a sudden sense of weakness - and then he can feel the disruption in his spiritual connection to Jangnan. Moments later, his sword is out of his hand and driving into the bamboo flooring, along with dozens of others. The swords form a straight line, a division between the Gom Sect and the guest disciples. 

Jimin watches as Min Chunghee steps up to the barrier of swords, slowly tucking his danso away. Much of the room, including the Gom disciples, are gaping at his casual display of musical cultivation - and quite a powerful display, too! Disrupting so many connections between sword and master at one time…Musical cultivation truly has power that not even talismans can accomplish. People are right to revere the Horangi Sect. 

“Today is the opening ceremony for our guest lectures. It’s an important day for our sect and our guests,” Chunghee says, the slightest edge in his voice as he speaks directly to Donggun. “I hope you can restrain yourself.”

Jimin is impressed. And he’s not the only one. The fan-holding Kkachi disciple murmurs something about Chunghee deserving his reputation. Jimin can’t help but agree. Chunghee and Yoongi are Twin Tigers, but they are tigers in different ways - one sits in wait to hunt, while the other strikes after prey.

From the cluster of Gom disciples, the disciple in burnt orange presses forward. He is tall with smooth skin, neat russet hair, and deep brown dragon eyes. He also has a shadow who had previously been hiding behind him, a notably younger boy who holds himself meekly. This disciple is careful to politely lower his gaze as he bows to Chunghee. Two norigae hang from his belt; the first, a golden bear with red silk strings, and the second more care-worn, a burnished metal tree decorated with practical leather tassels.

Jimin watches with interest as this disciple introduces himself as Kim Namjoon, acting Sect Leader of the Sonamu Sect of Ilsan, and his younger brother Kim Dohoon, the heir of the Sonamu Sect. A small sect, to be sure, and one known for medical cultivation. The Sonamu Sect had been annexed by the Gom Sect for years, yet here is the leader and the heir, escorted by the second young master of the Gom Sect.

Kim Namjoon. Why does that name sound familiar?

“My brother, Dohoon, and I offer our most sincere apologies for the upset caused by our late arrival,” Namjoon says, still bowing to Chunghee and the Horangi teachers respectfully, even as Lee Donggun scoffs with derision. “We hope for your forgiveness. Please, accept this gift of rare medicinal herbs from Ilsan.”

Dohoon, the younger brother, passes a wooden lacquer box over the swords dividing the room. His hands tremble as he does so, a sign that he is a thoroughly nervous creature. Jimin feels bad for him. Dohoon doesn’t look too much younger than Jeongguk. Is he even old enough to attend the lectures?

Chunghee regards Namjoon with a polite, if not remote smile. “We are glad to welcome you to our lectures.” Then, Chunghee looks at Donggun, his brows raised ever-so-slightly. “With that, I believe the opening ceremony is over. If you would like, you may rest in the guest quarters -”

Donggun snorts loudly. He yanks his sword out of the floor, shoving it into its sheath with a sneer. “As if I want to stifle myself in this place any longer than necessary,” he jeers, stalking off without a second glance back. The Gom disciples hasten after him, leaving only the Sonamu disciples in awkward, tense silence. 

The swords are still pitched into the floor, acting as a divide between the guest disciples and the would-be interlopers. The division is clear and poignant. And perhaps unfair, considering the circumstances. All offenses just now were committed by the Gom Sect, yet it is the new arrivals who bear the brunt of disapproval. 

Kim Namjoon and his younger brother hesitate, his eyes darting to the wary guest disciples and to Min Chunghee. He bows again, a look of regret writ clear across his face. “My apologies, again,” he says softly. 

Jimin tilts his head, thoughtful. 

“Kim Namjoon, Kim Namjoon,” Jimin mutters, tapping at his bottom lip. “Why does that name sound so familiar to me?”

He and the rest of the guest disciples are leaving the dining hall after the mid-day meal, which had been an assortment of crisp vegetables dressed lightly in soy sauce and plain rice. Jimin sorely misses meat, and he’s not the only one judging by Jeongguk’s disgruntled expression. The meals are so light that Jimin still feels hungry as his stomach adjusts. The upside is that he’s getting much better at circulating his spiritual energy to sustain his body. It’s still not a form of cultivation he enjoys. 

His brother shakes his head. “With your spotty memory, who knows?"

“Aigoo, it’s not that bad.”

“Oh? What did we have for breakfast, then?” Jeongguk challenges.

“That’s not fair,” Jimin whines, moving to drape himself over his brother’s back. “It was so early! Who could remember anything that early? Do you remember?”

Jeongguk grimaces, but answers promptly. “Rice, broth, sesame vegetables.”

“That doesn’t sound very appetizing,” Jimin says. “No wonder I don’t remember.”

They pass by a cohort of disciples from some smaller sects, who have their heads tucked together as they gossip and walk. These disciples aren’t speaking softly enough to not be overheard in the overwhelming silence of Horangi Recesses. 

“...that scene with the Gom Sect earlier was something else. They haven’t attended these lectures in years…”

“But they sent the Sonamu Sect!”

“And had the second heir of the Gom Sect as an escort…Imagine!”

“Well, I’m glad it’s only the Sonamu Sect attending. The Gom Sect is so scary…”

“Lee Donggun is so disrespectful.”

“Truly, how can the greatest of the great sects produce a disciple like that ? Let alone an heir?"

“I guess we know why his brother is favored then!”

The disciples laugh amongst themselves and Jimin shoots Jeongguk a look. Jeongguk shakes his head, tugging Jimin away before he can get any ideas. With his good sense of direction, Jeongguk leads them back in the direction of the guest quarters, where they will spend the rest of the day familiarizing themselves with the three thousand rules of the Horangi Sect and other expectations guest disciples must meet. According to Min Jinwoong, this is so no disciples will have the excuse of ignorance when they break the rules.

Halfway to the guest quarters, the Kkachi disciple with the fan catches up to them. He’s nearly as tall as Jeongguk, but with a more willowy build that makes him seem more fragile than other boys. His curly hair is a warm chestnut shade, with several curls falling into his eyes and framing the sharp planes of his face, his skin as smooth as honey, and his eyes a deep, shining shade of emerald. His norigae is a copper magpie pendant woven with a variety of green tassels, and even his fan depicts a magpie in mid-birdsong. He calls out to them with a boxy smile. 

“Hey, wait!”

Jimin and Jeongguk pause, turning toward the source of the noise. The Kkachi disciple is bounding happily toward them, followed by a taller and broader Kkachi disciple who keeps a slower pace. Jimin eyes the handsome shadow, recognizing the strength in his posture and the simple leather-bound sheath of his saber, which he carries on his back. Probably a guard, then, which would make the fan-holding disciple…

“I’m Kim Taehyung of the Kkachi Sect,” he greets, fluttering his fan around his face. He’s looking directly at Jimin, a sparkle in his eyes. “Wow! You were so great to stand up to Lee Donggun! I don’t think anyone has ever challenged him so directly!”

Jimin laughs, immediately feeling the sense of a kindred spirit. He detaches himself from Jeongguk and says loftily, “Is it really so great? Standing against evil is an endless joy of mine. I would volunteer for it every day!”

Taehyung snaps his fan closed in one swift, practiced movement. He hits the side of the fan against his palm. “I wish I had your courage! It’s really admirable!”

“His courage isn’t something normal people can’t achieve,” Jeongguk scoffs, crossing his arms over his chest.

“Why’s that?”

Jeongguk sighs, appearing very put upon. “Courage means overcoming fear. This guy fears nothing,” he says, pushing his shoulder against Jimin’s. “He’s just reckless, not brave.”

Jimin pouts at his brother, shoving him a little. “You’re so mean today! You’re mean when you don’t sleep enough!”

Jeongguk shoves him back and Jimin scuffles with him for several moments while Taehyung laughs at their antics. The other Kkachi disciple, Cha Eunwoo, hangs back to watch, but his mouth tucks into a small smile, too. 

It’s as Jimin is about to pull Jeongguk into a headlock that he suddenly remembers where he has heard the name Kim Namjoon before. He abruptly straightens up and releases Jeongguk, clapping his hands together. “Oh! Oh, Kim Namjoon, the prodigious doctor!” he realizes.

Jeongguk stumbles and catches his breath. “What?”

“Kim Namjoon?” Taehyung asks.

Jimin makes an impatient noise. “That’s why his name is so familiar! He wrote an incredible treatise on the best use of spiritual energy for the healing of broken bones,” Jimin explains. “Remember when I broke my arm? I used that theory to heal faster!”

A dark look passes Jeongguk’s face, probably because Jimin broke his arm when he was being punished and he never did like Jimin’s explanation for how such a thing was possible. But there are some things that his brother doesn’t need to know. Especially when it relates to his mother.

“I hope I get a chance to talk to him,” Jimin says with a wide smile, already thinking about all the interesting questions he has for a doctor as skilled as Namjoon. Really, that kind of talent is so rare! And cultivators overlook medical cultivation as often as they do talismanic cultivation, so coming across an expert in the subject is very uncommon! 

Jeongguk sighs. “Knowing you, you’ll find an opportunity.”

Like any other formally trained disciple, Jimin has been taking classes in cultivation theory and other gentlemanly arts since he was a young boy. For Jimin, classes are invariably interesting for a short while before he grows bored at the slow pace. At Mugunghwa Pier, his restlessness was accommodated and he was allowed a more free-form style of study, if only to “spare the other disciples of your indignity”, according to Madam Jeon. Jimin was given texts and teachers oversaw his physical training. If he ever had any questions, he was allowed to ask the sect masters, though not all of his questions could be answered satisfactorily. 

If Jimin had any expectations about the Horangi lectures, it would have been that a sect of such renowned scholars would have challenging, informative, and thought-provoking classes to mold the minds of young cultivators. As the sect with the most scholarly resources, all those books and libraries certainly must be there for a reason. 

Except, to Jimin’s dismay, the first weeks of classes at the Horangi Sect is almost mind-numbingly boring. After the first day spent learning the sect rules, Jimin assumed the Horangi teachers would dive right into advanced cultivation teaching. But no! A full few weeks is spent on the basics of cultivation, on how meditation is the key to amassing yang energy, and on how cultivation with the sword is both practical and moral. 

Jimin already knows all of this! Don’t most disciples?

After each underwhelming class, Jimin whines to Jeongguk about how bland it all is. The people, the food, even the education! Jeongguk always grimaces and tells him to keep his voice down, but Jimin knows he agrees, too. 

In lieu of actually tuning into yet another boring lecture, Jimin takes to sketching out his talisman ideas under the guise of taking notes. This is at least enough to occupy his mind, but his body longs for movement, and the endless hours of sitting at a desk make him sleepy. 

It is after one jaw-cracking yawn that Min Jinwoong pins him with a withering glare. “Although some of you may find this introductory series boring, it is done with a purpose. Before moving on to more advanced topics, we must ensure all students are on the same page.”

Jimin ducks his head. By happenstance, he catches Min Yoongi’s eye - or rather, his cold stare. Jimin smiles reflexively and Yoongi turns away, sitting up perfectly straight and diligently taking notes even though he’s probably sat through eighteen years of the same boring lectures. Jimin is amazed, and a little concerned. 

But during those first weeks of classes, not all days are quite so humdrum. One day, Kim Taehyung arrives at the afternoon lecture with a breathless giddiness, Cha Eunwoo following behind with a deep sigh. Jimin doesn’t understand why until, mid-class, he hears a distinct chirping sound. 

Jimin’s inkbrush pauses, his eyes lifting from the doodle of him and Yoongi fighting under the moonlight, which sits on the margin of a page sketching out an idea for a binding talisman. 

Chirp, chirp . 

Slowly, Jimin looks at Taehyung with his brows lifted. Taehyung, for his part, is trying to muffle the sound with the wide sleeve of his durumagi, hunched over something in his lap. When the chirping noises happen again, Jeongguk and Hoseok turn back to glance at Taehyung too, followed by many others who are sitting nearby. 

Jimin has no idea how the Horangi teacher hosting this lecture about meditation methods hasn’t heard chirping. But the teacher continues to drone on, pacing a slow line back and forth at the front of the classroom. 

“Hey,” Jimin whispers, leaning closer to his deskmate. “What did you catch?”

Taehyung giggles, lifting his sleeve to reveal a small wooden cage and a colorful, cobalt-blue magpie. “I caught it after lunch,” Taehyung reveals, his low voice hushed as he shifts the cage to give Jimin a better view. “Look at how blue the feathers are."

Jimin gives an adoring whine. “Aw, how cute…”

Abruptly, Taehyung covers the birdcage back up, sitting straight up like the perfect student. A bead of sweat drops down his temple.

At the same moment, Jimin feels the weight of eyes heavy on him. It’s a familiar weight by now and he greets Min Yoongi’s latest glare with a little wave. Yoongi stares back, still so cold, and Jimin awkwardly drops his hand.

Min Yoongi is so mean ! But, interestingly, Yoongi doesn’t draw the teacher’s attention to Taehyung and his magpie. For the duration of the class, there is a slightly tense, anticipatory atmosphere, as if the entire class is waiting for Taehyung to be caught. 

The class ends with no punishments, unless one would count the extra reading about meditation techniques that most have mastered by age twelve. Jimin absolutely considers this a punishment, of course, and eagerly complains about it as he exits the classroom, resting most of his weight on his brother’s strong shoulders. 

“Honestly, couldn’t we learn about active meditation?” Jimin wonders.

Jeongguk rolls his eyes. “No, because it’s not a thing.”

“It is so! I actively mediate!”

“No, you skive off to go hunt pheasants or bother the stall owners for free food,” Jeongguk counters. 

“I’ll have you know that hunting pheasants is great for practicing archery and concentration! The little things will run away so quickly if they hear you, so you have to regulate your breathing!” Jimin argues. “And after all that active meditation, is it a crime if I’m hungry?”

“You-”

Jeongguk falls quiet as Kim Seokjin passes by, followed by a few other Jasujeon disciples. Hoseok offers a bright smile and a wave to Jimin, which Jimin returns eagerly. Jeongguk, meanwhile, is staring after his betrothed, very obviously pining. Jimin really doesn’t understand what’s so special about Seokjin to inspire this amount of mooning! Especially when Seokjin never spares Jeongguk a glance, not even in passing!

Jimin nudges his brother forward, and when that doesn’t work, he jumps right on Jeongguk’s back. His brother catches him by reflex, holding onto the back of Jimin’s knees with a grunt. Jimin rests his chin on the top of Jeongguk’s head with a silly grin.

“What are you -”

“Jimin-ah! Jeongguk-ah!” Taehyung calls out. He’s rushing as much as he can without jostling his birdcage, although Eunwoo quietly reminds him to abide by the no-running rule. 

“Taehyung-ah!” Jimin greets happily from his perch. “I’m glad you and your bird friend made it!”

“Me too,” Taehyung says fervently, now walking alongside Jeongguk as he carries Jimin on his back. “Ah, but that’s not what I’m worried about, you know! All these classes…I just know I’m going to fail them all!”

“That definitely won’t happen,” Jimin promises. “Don’t worry! With me here, there’s no way you would be able to fail. People get smarter just by being in my proximity!”

Jeongguk snorts. “No, they seem smarter because you’re so dumb.”

Jimin tugs on the silver donggot holding his brother’s elaborate sangtuwan in place. “Don’t be so mean to me, Gguk-ah!”

“Is it being mean if I’m being honest?”

Jimin beats lightly at Jeongguk’s shoulders. “You brat! Let me teach you a lesson!”

Jeongguk laughs, bouncing Jimin on his back purposefully so Jimin is forced to stop hitting him or risk falling. “What kind of lesson could you possibly teach me? Look at you!”

Taehyung laughs loudly and the unrestrained tone of his joy sets Jimin off, followed by Jeongguk and Eunwoo. They stand on one of the pathways to the guest quarters, laughing until they are red in the face with tears in their eyes, for a long while. 

But then -

“Excessive noise is forbidden. Do not laugh for no reason.”

The laughter cuts off, and Jimin looks up at Yoongi, who stands stone-faced at the foot of the pathway. Jimin blinks rapidly. “Ah? But, we were laughing at something funny…”

Min Yoongi looks even colder as he walks off, so rigid that Jimin has to suppress a shiver. Imagine needing to have a good reason to laugh! No wonder the Horangi disciples are so joyless. 

Jimin shakes his head sadly, hugging his arms around Jeongguk’s neck. Some people just don’t know how to have fun.

One day not long after the lectures start, Jimin sees his chance to speak with the ever-elusive genius doctor sitting through the same boring classes as him. He peels away from Jeongguk and Taehyung as the class lets out for the mid-day meal and dashes after the quiet doctor.

“Kim Namjoon! Kim Namjoon doryeon-nim!” he calls out, squeezing through a cluster of guest disciples. He skids to a stop in front of a bewildered Kim Namjoon and delivers his brightest smile. “Hello! I’ve been wanting to talk to you for ages! I’m Park Jimin!”

“Ah…hello,” Namjoon says, sounding somewhat reluctant.

Jimin barrels through the awkwardness, tilting his head a little to make eye contact with the older doctor. “I’m a huge admirer,” he gushes. “I read your research about the use of redirected yang energy to heal internal illnesses, and I was wondering if you-”

“I’m sorry,” Namjoon interrupts, looking a bit regretful. He holds himself very stiffly, his limbs all folded close to his body. He clears his throat, looking away from Jimin. “I have to go.”

“Go? Wait, but I -”

Namjoon presses his lips together and walks away. 

Jimin sighs after him. What is it with people from other sects being so closed-off? Honestly, are Mugunghwa and Kkachi disciples the only friendly cultivators in the world? No wonder the common people hesitate to ask for help!

Jimin decides to try again another day. Maybe Namjoon is just busy! There is a lot of reading they have to do, even if it’s the boring kind of reading because anyone clever already knows about the subject…

When he sits between Jeongguk and Taehyung in the dining hall, it’s with a gusty sigh. He wrinkles his nose at the bland lunch, pining for chili oil, but tucks into his meal anyway. Bland or not, food is food - and Jimin would never turn down food.

Taehyung offers him a sympathetic smile. “No luck?”

Jimin shakes his head. “Do you think it’s the mountain air that’s making people so standoffish?”

Taehyung’s eyes widen. “I never thought about it!”

“I just really want to ask about his research,” Jimin pouts. “If I could understand it better, then maybe I could make a talisman that even mundane people could use. Doctors aren’t always so common in smaller villages, you know.”

“Talismans?” Taehyung asks. “You’re good with those? Wow!”

Jimin smirks, feeling proud. “I know. Most cultivators overlook talismans, but they’re really the most flexible form of cultivation. We use them a lot at Mugunghwa Pier, probably more than other sects. Right, Gguk-ah?”

Jeongguk doesn’t answer. 

Jimin twists around, peering at Jeongguk closely, but Jeongguk is staring at the Jasujeon disciples across the hall. Specifically, he stares at Kim Seokjin talking to Jung Hoseok. When Seokjin smiles mildly in response to whatever Hoseok says, Jeonggk puts his chopsticks down with a sharp snap against the tabletop and abruptly stands up to leave the hall.

Jimin blinks rapidly after his brother. “What was that about?”

Taehyung hums. “Could he be jealous?”

“Jeonggukie? Jealous?” Jimin scoffs. “My brother is the best person in the entire world! What does he need to be jealous of? If anything, people should be jealous of him!”

But despite what he said, jealousy over Kim Seokjin, who seems to spurn Jeongguk at every turn, does make some sense. Jimin pinches his lips together and huffily starts making riceballs out of the remaining rice and pickled vegetables on his and Jeongguk’s trays. The result is sloppy, but meals are too important to miss over someone like the third young master of the Jasujeon Sect.

“I’ll see you in class later,” he tells Taehyung, hopping up with his spoils. He hopes he can find Jeongguk quickly so he can restore his brother’s good cheer before the next class. 

Although the late summer is edging into early fall and the weather on the mountain is steadily cooling, the day is still nice enough that Jimin decides spending time outside is much more preferable than a stuffy study room in one of the libraries. He suspects they will be shut inside buildings during the winter soon enough. 

“Do you think this will be on the next exam?” Taehyung worries as he shuffles through Jeongguk’s notes because, between them, Jeongguk took notes that were detailed, relevant, and legible. Taehyung’s notes are done in beautiful calligraphy, but he takes too much time writing to keep up with the speed of a lecture; and like Jimin, Eunwoo doesn’t even take notes, or at least, not ones that will be useful for studying. 

Nearby, lounging back on the cool grass with his arms folded behind his head, Jimin shrugs rather carelessly. “Probably? But it’s not that hard to learn. You’ll be fine.”

“You said you would help me,” Taehyung reminds him. He lunges forward, dropping the notes in favor of grasping at Jimin’s elbow, yanking the cushion of his arm from behind his head.

Jeongguk sorts his notes back into order. “Believe me, this is him helping you.”

Jimin nods sagely. “The first step to success is confidence! If I build you up, you’ll be tougher to knock down. Besides,” he adds with a bit of mirth. “Worst comes to worst, I’ll just give you a few hints during the exam!”

“Really?” Taehyung asks eagerly, stars in his eyes. 

“No,” the ever-quiet Eunwoo cuts in sternly, and Jeongguk nods in agreement. 

“But Eunwoo-yah,” Taehyung protests. “This way I won’t fail! Imagine how disappointed my brother would be if I failed the first exam!”

“Imagine how he’ll feel if he found out you cheated,” Eunwoo counters.

Taehyung blanches, then shoots Jimin a wide-eyed look. “Right. Better learn it correctly.”

“You sure?” Jimin checks. He can think of at least three ways to pass Taehyung answers without any of their teachers being the wiser. 

“I’m sure. Explain it to me again,” Taehyung requests, settling down with his legs crossed, one hand holding a folded fan.

Jimin sits up, stretching until his spine pops pleasantly. “Okay, let’s see. The difference between ghouls, ghosts, beasts, and spirits…You can tell them apart in two ways, either by the level of malice or form. Ghouls tend to be the most malicious and they have a physical form, often influenced by their environment. Ghouls found in a forest are much different than ghouls found in the water. Ghosts, however, also have a high level of malice, typically channeled through yin energy and directed to the cause of their resentment. A fierce corpse is somewhere between a ghoul and a ghost…”

“But, not all ghosts are bad.”

“No, they aren’t,” Jimin agrees. “Some ghosts are just stuck, unable to move on in the cycle of life and rebirth. It’s not their fault, but maybe they have some unfinished business or something that holds them to the mortal plane. I once encountered a ghost who was haunting a pier because it was worried others would be caught during high tide on rocks that were too well hidden. The ghost wasn’t hurting anyone, exactly, but it was scaring people and, in the end, it had a very low level of resentment.”

Taehyung frowns. “What makes one ghost more resentful than the next?”

“Death circumstances,” Jeongguk answers. 

Jimin nods. “Usually, ghosts that have violent deaths or who are especially emotionally traumatized can form a high level of resentment. That resentment then draws the ambient yin energy from the world, which manifests the ghost and gives the ghost power to affect the living world,” he details. “It’s the same for ghouls, except the physical form of the ghoul allows for more resentment and yin energy to fester.”

By now, Jimin’s recap of the last few classes has drawn the attention of other guest disciples who have gathered in the same courtyard to enjoy the last sun of the summer. To his bemusement, some have even gone so far as to take notes! It’s silly because he doesn’t think he’s said anything new or all that different from the Horangi teachers. He shoots Jeongguk a questioning look and Jeongguk rolls his eyes, gesturing for Jimin to continue.

“And beasts come from animals that have gorged themselves on yin energy,” Taehyung says, this time sounding very confident. 

“But how do beasts do that?” one of the guest disciples jumps in. He’s from one of the smaller sects and he flushes brightly when the attention in the courtyard turns to him. “I mean, h-how can beasts gather yin energy?”

“Well, animals aren’t so different from humans, are they? We are both living and we can both feed off the natural energy in the world. But animals don’t have the same type of soul as humans, so they are naturally more vulnerable to yin energy since animals can’t compress yang energy the same way we can. Yin energy doesn’t need to be compressed, though,” Jimin says. He tosses his head back in thought. “When yin energy gathers, it fills in a space completely, while yang energy condenses. Think about ghosts and ghouls - their forms are always filled to the brim with yin energy.”

“...the teacher never said anything like that…” one guest disciple mutters.

“...maybe we just haven’t gotten that far in the lesson…”

“Hyung,” Jeongguk says, a note of warning in his voice.

“It’s just a theory,” Jimin says, brushing him off. 

“What about spirits, then?” Eunwoo prompts and Taehyung nods eagerly.

Jimin taps at his bottom lip. “Spirits are the most natural form of transformed energy in the world. Ever hear about fairy statues? Fairy statues will form after centuries of exposure to yang energy, usually on holy mountains. Spirits are similar. Most spirits form after yin energy has gathered in one place too long, which can transform something as benign as a tree into a blood-thirsty entity. This is why we hear about spirits and ghosts forming in the same area, especially after big tragedies.”

“So knowledgeable!” a guest disciple praises.

“It makes sense when he explains it…”

Jimin preens, soaking in the positive attention, even as many of the guest disciples wander away. He hears a few of them mutter about visiting the library. 

“I think I get it now,” Taehyung hazards. “Ghouls are ghosts that have bodies, ghosts are souls full of resentment, and spirits are a pure form of yin energy, while beasts are simply corrupted.”

Jimin grins. “I guess you don’t need to cheat after all.”

Taehyung shakes his head rapidly. “No, don’t say that! I’ll probably forget everything by tomorrow.”

“If you forget everything by tomorrow, then you should visit the healers,” Jeongguk deadpans. 

Eunwoo smothers a laugh. 

“If you’re going to visit any doctor, then you should visit Kim Namjoon,” Jimin recommends.

Jeongguk groans. “Not this again. He doesn’t want to talk to you and he’s from the Gom Sect -”

“He’s the Sonamu Sect leader-”

“Okay, but the Sonamu Sect is annexed by the Gom Sect, so it’s practically the same thing -

“-and he’s also brilliant!”

Jeongguk raises his voice a bit. “Brilliant or not, you should keep your distance!”

“I actually…I think I agree with Jeongguk-ah,” Taehyung says, drawing a noise of surprise from Jimin. Taehyung brings his fan up to flutter around his face, cutting his gaze to Eunwoo a few times. “I don’t know, but…Don’t you think it’s suspicious that he’s here? Maybe it’s not a good idea to be friends.”

“I can make friends with anyone,” Jimin says confidently. There is maybe some merit about the Sonamu Sect being suspicious but Jimin believes in concrete evidence. Too many people speculate and jump to conclusions, and then they end up looking like silly hypocrites afterward! “Like Min Yoongi! We already had a nice spar!”

“Sure, if chasing you around with a sword to capture you counts as a nice spar,” Jeongguk mutters. 

“It counts!” Jimin insists, giving Jeongguk a playful shove. 

Jeongguk darts forward, reaching up to pull at Jimin’s ear until he’s whining. It’s not that it hurts, but this is their preferred form of affection. Jimin can’t help but giggle through his protests, and he’s still giggling when a form in all white glides through the courtyard.

Jimin slaps Jeongguk’s hand away and calls out brightly. “Min Yoongi! Min doryeon-nim!”

Min Yoongi continues without pause or a flicker of attention, passing through without so much as disturbing the grass.

“I’m sure he didn’t hear me,” Jimin dismisses easily, settling back down.

“You’re so loud, they probably heard you all the way in Busan,” Jeongguk says. 

Taehyung whistles. “Jimin, you’re amazing. You even dare to bother Min Yoongi.”

Jimin wrinkles his nose. “Is speaking with him the same as bothering him?”

“All he does it glare,” Taehyung claims. “He’s very frightening.”

Jimin laughs. “I don’t think so! Let me tell you, Min Yoongi has an interesting character!”

“Didn’t you say he was rigid and stubborn?” Jeongguk asks drolly. 

“Yes!” Jimin agrees enthusiastically. “And I find that very interesting!”

Taehyung’s fan flutters faster. “Well, I plan to do all I can to avoid him. I hear he’s in charge of sect discipline, and he's not that much older than us…” Taehyung shivers. “I definitely don’t want to be on his bad side.”

Jimin scoffs. “Ah, I wouldn’t mind being on his bad side. I bet I would get to fight him again! He’s so talented and fierce! Very challenging!”

“Here we go,” Jeongguk says, rolling his eyes. 

Jimin giggles. “Are you jealous that I’m impressed by someone else’s swordsmanship, Gguk-ah?” he teases. He gets to his feet, circling his brother with the swift footwork of their sect sword forms. “If you trained a little harder, maybe I would be impressed by yours instead!”

Jeongguk jumps up after him. “Who wants to impress you?” he demands as Jimin gives chase, running around the courtyard happily, much to the amusement of their new friends.

The day Jimin has been waiting for is finally here! So far, the guest lectures at Horangi Recesses have been mostly focused on classroom learning, while physical training has been limited to once a week. But as important as it is to know about theories, cultivation is all about practical experience, if anyone asks Jimin!

“Nobody asked,” Jeongguk tells him bluntly.

Jimin ignores his brother. Jeongguk is so grumpy in the morning, even on a beautiful autumn day like this!

He bounces on his toes, trying very hard not to show his excitement too obviously. But the fact is that he’s been waiting for this particular training session for weeks . The first few physical training sessions had gone over subjects like different blade forms, an overview of ranged weapons, and a demonstration of the Horangi sword forms. All well and useful, but nothing that any disciples had to participate in. For the last few weeks, Jimin has been forced to stand quietly and watch other people have fun! It’s no different than sitting in a classroom!

But today is different. Jimin had asked around and he learned that the lesson plan for the day is to show off the unique sword forms of each sect. Jimin is so enthused it’s all he can do to hold back a happy yell.

“Gather in an orderly manner,” the Horangi sword master says, standing tall in the center of the training courtyard. Disciples hasten to follow his direction, clustering in somewhat neat rows to form a group for each sect. “Previously, you were taught the foundations of a strong sword form. Today, you will see how other sects teach basic skills. Head disciples, come forth.”

Jimin wiggles in excitement, quickly dashing forward. Other head disciples he can immediately recognize include Jung Hoseok, Cha Eunwoo, and Min Yoongi. Jimin ends up standing next to Yoongi and beams at his fellow disciple. Yoongi blinks at him silently and looks away sooner than Jimin would like. 

The sword master instructs each of the head disciples to give a brief demonstration of their sect’s starting sword forms and the mastered sword forms. Jimin drinks up the demonstrations eagerly, even those from smaller sects. His personal sword form has adapted over the years to incorporate several styles and off-the-cuff techniques, so he is always happy to learn more.

It is unsurprising to see the Kkachi sword forms place an emphasis on brute strength, the technique particularly grounded in the core. The Jasujeon technique is notably refined, although Jimin can tell that Hoseok has left out many of the elaborate techniques that are, frankly, extremely unnecessary even if they look nice. And of course, the Horangi technique is as elegant and economical as Jimin remembers, strong but still so quick. When it’s Jimin’s turn, he makes sure to emphasize the speed and water-like agility of the Mugunghwa sword forms, sticking to the same forms all Mugunghwa disciples are taught and leaving out his adapted forms. He’s proud to note that his demonstration is the most well-received and bows several times with dramatic grandiosity.

“Pair with a sparring partner,” the sword master says over the smattering of applause from other guest disciples. “A partner from another sect.”

“Sabum-nim,” Taehyung calls out weakly, holding his stomach with one hand while the other flutters a fan delicately near his throat. He looks only a few seconds from fainting. “I believe I’m too ill…”

“I can take him to the infirmary,” Kim Namjoon volunteers. Throughout the lesson so far, he has been awkwardly holding his sword, not at all like other disciples who view the sword as an extension of themselves. “As a healer, I’m afraid I’m not well-trained in this area. My knowledge is too basic.”

The sword master doesn’t seem pleased, but he dismisses them both anyway. As he leaves, leaning heavily on Namjoon’s shoulder, Taehyung turns around and winks at Jimin. Jimin tries not to laugh too obviously. 

Jimin turns to secure his own sparring partner, but to his disappointment, Min Yoongi has already paired up with Kim Seokjin. That Jasujeon peacock is always making Jimin’s life hard! In the end, Jimin winds up paired with Hoseok, while Jeongguk is partnered with Eunwoo. 

“I won’t go easy on you, Hoseok-sunbae,” Jimin says. He had studied Hoseok’s swordplay earlier, of course, and so he already has an idea of how he might counter the other disciple.

“I might surprise you,” Hoseok smiles and lunges first. To Jimin’s delight, his swordsmanship is exceptional, a worthy challenge to overcome. Jimin is just a tad faster though and he strikes at Hoseok’s open side with the blunt edge of his blade with a giggle after several minutes of manuvers.

Across the courtyard, it seems that Seokjin has lost to Yoongi - which is expected given that Yoongi is probably the best swordsman in the class. Jeongguk has held his own against Eunwoo, though, and is still sparring for several more minutes before the sword master calls a tie. His brother offers Eunwoo a rare satisfied grin, sweat on his brow, which Eunwoo returns. 

From there, the next hour is spent rotating sparring partners until, eventually, Jimin is standing across from Min Yoongi with his sword drawn once more. A thrill rushes through him as he falls into his starting stance. 

“Ah, I’m looking forward to this! You know, our last spar wasn’t very fair! This time, I’ll show you my strength!” Jimin promises with a sunny smile. 

Yoongi lifts a brow delicately. “Mm.”

Jimin gasps in mock affront. “Don’t sound so skeptical, Min doryeon-nim! I’m stronger than I look you know. Plus, isn’t it true that the natural counter to strength is agility?” Jimin smirks. “You may find that I’m too fast for you. Again!”

At this, Yoongi’s golden eyes flash and narrow in challenge. His posture shifts, suddenly more foreboding, his gleaming silver sword as dazzling in the sunlight as it is in the moonlight. “Less talking,” he says flatly.

Jimin titters. “So grumpy - Hey!” he yelps, bending back to avoid Yoongi’s strike. He brings Jangnan up, the clash of their swords loud as the impact reverberates up his arm. Yoongi really isn’t holding back! “Ah, ah! Give me some warning next time!”

“No,” Yoongi says, and strikes again.

Jimin laughs, parrying the move. “That’s right! A warning would be an unfair advantage! Min doryeon-nim, you’re so smart!”

Yoongi doesn’t respond. His sword skills are so fierce and aggressive, as unflappable and unflinching as his personality. He keeps Jimin on the defensive for a long while, but Jimin was right - the natural foil to strength is agility, and Jimin is especially agile. Soon enough, he turns the tables and has Yoongi on defense, although given the Horangi technique, this means that Yoongi is holding his ground and simply pivoting to protect his weak points. It makes Jimin work harder since he can’t take advantage of Yoongi’s footwork to knock him off balance, and before he knows it, Jimin has slipped into his adaptive form, working very hard to win. He doesn’t know that he’s ever had to try so hard to win a spar before, not even with the older Mugunghwa disciples who taught him!

Sweat gathers on the nape of his neck and his hanbok sticks to his skin. He is panting, but still effervescent with a special kind of joy. Deep in his middle, his golden core is spinning rapidly, fueling his muscles with yang energy to keep him fast and strong. Thoughtlessly, Jimin pours more of his energy into his next strike, which ends up knocking Yoongi back a step. 

Yoongi’s feline-like eyes widen subtly before glittering with determination. He surprises Jimin by taking a risk, leaving his side unprotected in favor of striking out, swift and hard, to turn the tides of the spar again. This time, Jimin can almost taste Yoongi’s spiritual energy and he’s elated.

This rigid Horangi disciple is clearly his match! Nobody else has ever matched Jimin in cultivation so easily, and now Jimin is having to push to keep up - but he also feels that Yoongi must keep pushing, too. Jimin can feel his golden core churning out more energy, even as his body absorbs ambient yang energy from the world. It’s the same thing that happens when a cultivator practices sword forms independently, but for such a phenomenon to happen during a spar is exceptional. It’s almost unheard of.

Jimin laughs at the realization. Min Yoongi may very well be the brother of his soul! 

Eventually, the sword master calls their spar to a halt, looking between the two of them with blatant surprise. “That was…impressive. Well done,” he says faintly. 

Around them, the rest of the guest disciples are staring in shock. It seems as if the other pairs finished sparring a long time ago and have been watching Jimin fight with Yoongi instead. The guest disciples murmur to each other, and even Jeongguk has a complicated expression on his face.

Feeling warm, Jimin looks at his sparring partner and says, “You’re my perfect match!”

Yoongi tenses, the tips of his ears turning bright red. He tucks his sword away, determinedly not meeting Jimin’s expectant gaze. Without a word, he leaves the training courtyard immediately after the sword master dismisses the class.

Jimin scratches his head, staring after him. “What’s his problem…?”

Chapter Text

“Psst. Min doryeon-nim!”

Yoongi remains facing forward, dutifully copying down notes on the lecture. He can’t help the foreign tension running up his spine, though, and hopes it isn’t too obvious that he is bothered by the incessant badgering of a certain guest disciple. 

A crumpled ball of paper lands on his desk, the third in as many minutes. Like the previous two, he brushes this one away to keep his desk clear. And like the previous two times, there is a dramatically aggrieved sigh from behind him. 

At the head of the room, one of his sect’s teachers continues teaching, none the wiser of the unrepentant bother in the classroom. Yoongi wishes the lecture was about something moderately challenging. He’s noticed that Park Jimin can miraculously remain quiet when his attention is fully occupied by something he deems interesting, but even Yoongi has to admit the current lecture isn’t interesting at all. The only reason he continues to take notes is out of habit. Later, he will likely file these notes away with other study materials or pass them on to a more junior disciple. 

“What are you doing?” another voice demands in a hushed whisper. Yoongi identifies it easily as Jeon Jeongguk, who fails miserably at reigning in his head disciple but nevertheless, at least makes a token effort each day. “Leave him alone.”

Park Jimin merely giggles and Yoongi braces himself for the next ball of paper to sail over his shoulder. Yet, it doesn’t come for several minutes, and when it does, the form is - a paperman?

Yoongi’s eyes track the little paper figure as it hoists itself over his shoulder and slides down his arm. It jumps at the end of the brush he holds in his hand, slipping down to the back of his hand, and finally onto the desk. The paperman toddles all over Yoongi’s notes, somehow conveying a sense of annoyance even though there is no face drawn on the paper. Nonplussed, Yoongi watches as the paperman crosses its little arms and taps a foot as if waiting for something from him. 

Yoongi turns around just enough to catch Park Jimin’s eye. Jimin perks up and waves with a sunny eyesmile, even as Yoongi narrows his gaze. Just what did Jimin want from him? Why did he insist on bothering Yoongi when everybody else stayed away? It must be because getting a reaction out of Yoongi is more interesting than listening to a lecture Jimin has no interest in. 

Yoongi does not appreciate being treated as a form of entertainment. He thoroughly hopes his frostiness communicates this desire effectively. 

Evidently, it does not, because Jimin only seems to be encouraged now that he has Yoongi’s attention. “Isn’t it clever?” Jimin whispers, jerking his chin to the paperman. “I put a smidge of my energy into it! Isn’t it so smart?”

Yoongi turns to look down at the paperman. In the time he was not watching it, the paperman dipped its feet into his ink well. Intentionally? Maybe, considering the vague depiction of a flower that suddenly takes up half his page of notes, drawn on by tiny, ink-wilted feet. Yoongi’s fingers tighten around his brush as the paperman shakes its rear end at him, clearly taunting. 

Any other time, Yoongi might marvel at the talismanic work that must have gone into creating such an animated caricature. It’s impressive that the paperman can move so freely, seemingly without too much concentration from Jimin. He’s never seen anything like it, nor has he read about anything like it. 

But at the moment, it’s all he can do to hiss, “Boring.” Decisively, Yoongi pinches the paperman by its head, ignoring the frantic flailing of its limbs. He twists around so that Park Jimin will see as he slowly crushes the paperman into a ball, the motion punctuated by a tiny flare of icy blue as the action dissipates Jimin's spiritual energy. 

Jimin’s mouth drops open in shock. The expression satisfies something dark and untapped deep within Yoongi’s psyche. He drops the crushed paperman on Jimin’s desk, flips to a clean piece of paper, and resumes taking notes quite peacefully for the remainder of the class, even as Park Jimin and Jeon Jeongguk have a whispered conversation right behind him. 

“Did you see that?”

“You deserved it. You shouldn’t be bothering him.”

“I wasn’t bothering him!”

A sigh. 

“Can’t you see he doesn’t want to be friends with you? Leave it alone.”

“No. I can make friends with anyone. Even a fuddy-duddy like him.”

“A fuddy-duddy - what -” An aggravated noise. “He doesn’t like you though!”

“And why not?” a hissed return. “I’m a delight!”

“Hyung.”

“I just think he should have fun! Is that so bad?” A pause. “Do you think he liked the paperman? I should send another -”

“ No .” There is a shuffle of papers and a low whine and Yoongi assumes Jeon Jeongguk took away Jimin’s paper because there is no new paperman that follows this conversation. 

The class is dismissed with a smattering of happy mutters and a rush to the door. Yoongi takes his time, packing up all of his supplies neatly and tucking them into the magically expanded storage space in his durumagi sleeves. He expects to be the last one to leave the room, but as he stands, he notices that Jimin has hung back, bouncing on his toes as he waits at the door. 

Yoongi feels very tired. He resolves to walk right past Jimin, to ignore him so he doesn’t give the other disciple the satisfaction of his attention, for whatever reason Jimin wants it. But, of course, his plans all fail in the face of Park Jimin’s tenacity and shocking absence of decorum. 

“Min doryeon-nim! Yoongi sunbae-nim!” he calls brightly, quick to catch up to Yoongi’s longer strides. “What did you think of my little guy? Isn’t the paperman fun? Hey, were you really taking notes the whole time? Sunbae-nim, you’re smarter than the whole class! What do you need notes for?”

Yoongi doesn’t answer. He doesn’t even glance to the side. In his experience, ignoring his peers for long enough would eventually send the message that he wants to be left alone. It’s baffling that this message seems to bypass Jimin completely. He’s never met a more obnoxious person in his life.

Jimin whines and complains. “Min Yoongi doryeon-nim! I know you aren’t this grim! You let my sect enter Horangi Recesses, remember?”

Yoongi does remember. It was the right thing to do, given the circumstances, and it was well within the rules after he had spoken to his brother and uncle. He does not know why Jimin is bringing it up as if this simple act is evidence of something. 

Jimin steps in front of him, effectively cutting off his path. His full lips are strung into a pout, whisps of blond hair framing his expressive face. He has freckles right across the bridge of his nose, under his cheeks. Impish creature. 

“Won’t you be my friend? We’re on the same cultivation level! We’re equals, aren’t we?”

Yoongi steps back, gripping the hilt of his sword by reflex. He averts his eyes, feeling a confusing surge of heat spread through his chest. Equals in cultivation - that’s true. And strange. How can someone as irreverent as Jimin be on the same level as someone as disciplined as Yoongi? More than on the same level, even. Yoongi is certain Jimin has untapped potential, and it makes him uneasy for reasons he can’t name. He inexplicably feels that he must work harder lest he falls behind.

Jimin’s pout deepens. He opens his mouth to say something, but then Jeon Jeongguk is calling for him some distance away, even though shouting is forbidden in Horangi Recesses. Jimin appears rather off-put, heaving a great sigh and marching off without another word. 

Yoongi does not watch him leave. He does not. He just happens to be looking in that direction. A coincidence. Not related at all to the intriguing bouncy grace of Jimin’s light-footed steps, or the sway of his unruly hair which has, once again, uncoiled from an appropriate topknot into an untamed ponytail held in place only by a wooden donggot and a blue ribbon.

“I see you’ve made friends with Park-doryeong.”

Yoongi doesn’t startle at the abrupt appearance of his brother, but he can feel the heat in his ears as he catches Chunghee’s appraising glance. His brother looks and sounds rather satisfied, and Yoongi scowls. How long had Chunghee been watching?

“No,” Yoongi denies. “Not friends.”

Yoongi is, at best, a long-suffering victim of Jimin’s antics. Not his friend. 

Chunghee’s lips quirk. They stand side-by-side, each looking out at the peaceful courtyard of their sect, the autumn leaves that have dropped to the ground and the quiet breeze that stirs the trees on the mountain. Chunghee remains facing forward even as he says, “Oh? But I noticed you didn’t tell him to go away.”

Yoongi has no response to that. He doesn’t know why it hadn’t occurred to him to say such a thing to Jimin. Perhaps he knows, instinctively, that Jimin wouldn’t take it to heart. He’s better off saving his breath. 

At Yoongi’s stubborn silence, Chunghee sighs. “Yoongi-yah…We have been alone since we were so young, each carrying the weight of this sect. Samchon protected us as much as he could, but sometimes…At least I was able to be a child before eomma and abeoji passed. You were never allowed to truly be a child.”

“I did not mind,” Yoongi answers quietly. What other choice was there? Life is seldom something that can be controlled, and for children, life is something that simply happens to them.

“I wonder if you have been too burdened by your duties to this clan,” Chunghee says. 

Yoongi frowns deeply. “Hyung-nim. You have the heaviest share of duties. I am only helping where I can.”

Chunghee hums, sounding doubtful. “All the same, Yoongi-yah, it’s good if you can make friends with someone as lively as Park Jimin.”

Yoongi’s eyes drop to the ground. He says nothing. 

Chunghee continues on loftily. “I have a good feeling about Jimin. He is smart and cheerful, even if he is a bit…enthusiastic. And have you not been impressed by him? You came to a draw, I hear.”

Inexplicably, Yoongi’s face feels hot at the mere mention of that spar. It had been - there aren't words for it. Instead of replying to his brother, Yoongi grips the hilt of his sword and stalks off. He diligently ignores Chunghee’s quiet laughter at his expense and the way his heart is thudding so rapidly in his chest. 

Taehyung sucks his stomach in, arms spread on either side of his body as he tries very hard to keep his balance on the slippery rocks at the bottom of the riverbed. His bare feet offer no traction and, not having grown up near any major rivers or lakes, the situation he’s in is completely unfamiliar. But he’s having so much fun! His durumagi is hanging from a tree branch and his sleeves have been pushed over his elbows, the hems of his pants rolled to the top of his knees. The river water is chilly, but the sun is pleasantly warm. Taehyung wades in deeper, imagining how shocked Eunwoo will be when Taehyung returns to their dorm with a fish and soaked-through pants.

His balance teeters and Taehyung squeals. 

“Taehyung!” Jimin scolds lightly. “You scared the fish away!”

Taehyung’s shoulders crawl to his ears. “Sorry! So sorry! Go on, I’ll be quiet!” he calls back sheepishly. 

Jimin just grins at him, easily doing what so many in Taehyung’s life had failed to do - simply accepting Taehyung as he is, for all those faults and merits, whatever they may be. Byunghyun would have chewed his ear off in a similar situation and, as much as he loves Eunwoo, Taehyung also knows his dearest companion might have been upset with him, too. But Jimin lets his frustration be a temporary thing, something that slides off his back, unable to stick to his good nature and easy cheer. 

Taehyung thinks Jimin might be a marvel, just for that alone. 

Jimin has waded much further into the river, utterly unconcerned by how much he is being splashed. His bright eyes are focused on the rushing water and the fish scurrying within. Quick as a flash, his hands dart into the water, and then Jimin is holding a wiggling fish aloft, laughing with open delight. 

“Here, catch!” Jimin says and throws the fish at Taehyung. 

Taehyung manages to catch the fish, but the moment the weight and slimy texture of the creature registers in his mind, he yelps and drops the fish. The fish falls gratefully into the river and swims away. 

Taehyung hesitates a glance at his friend. Jimin is staring at him, dumbfounded. 

“Sorry…”

Jimin snorts. And then he tosses his head back, laughing so hard he almost falls into the river! He clutches his ribs as he tries to catch his breath. “It’s okay! It’s fine, I’ll just catch another!”

Taehyung twists his hands together. “You aren’t…mad?”

Jimin frowns with obvious confusion. “Mad? It’s just fish!”

For Taehyung, this type of easy acceptance of his inability is disarming. He isn’t sure what to do with it. Here, playing the idiot is no good because his friend simply doesn’t care . The fact that Taehyung doesn’t train like the rest of their peers doesn’t phase Jimin at all. And Jimin doesn’t try to leverage Taehyung’s good favor the way some others would, either. He simply treats Taehyung like just another boy, without any expectations or demands. 

Feeling brave, Taehyung wades a bit deeper into the water, nearer to where Jimin is. His friend greets him with a smile, half his attention still focused on finding fish in the river. Taehyung tries to do the same, straining for the glint of scales through the white foam of the rushing water. 

“Ah! Taehyung! Behind you!” Jimin gasps suddenly. “There’s a fish!”

Taehyung pivots eagerly. He can definitely catch a fish! He can -

Taehyung falls into the water, propelled by a warm, slender hand on his back. He lands on his hip, the cold water reaching up to his shoulders as he sits in the riverbed, and sputters, swiping water off his face. Not too far away, Jimin is laughing loudly, tears running down his face.

“Jimin!” Taehyung shouts, struggling to stand back up. He slips twice on the slick rocks before he finds his feet. He charges toward Jimin, his speed dragged down by the weight of his soaked hanbok. “I’ll get you for this!”

Jimin scampers away as best he can, laughing all the while, and Taehyung ends up laughing too. Eventually, they find their way back to the river bank, where they try to wring out their clothes. The effort is rather futile.

“I guess we won’t be having any fish,” Jimin muses. “Tofu for dinner again.”

Taehyung grimaces. “Maybe it’s for the best. How would we cook the fish without drawing any attention?”

Jimin giggles. “I hadn’t thought that far.”

Taehyung chuckles. It’s probably a good thing their efforts were fruitless. It’s not like either of them can afford to get in trouble again . Taehyung had to release his magpie earlier this week, and Jimin has been scolded twice in class for minor disruptions already. Killing and cooking fish on the mountain is probably a step too far. Copying lines for punishment already takes up so much time, and the Horangi Sect is so strict that punishments for greater infractions must be severe.

“Maybe we can go to Daegu soon,” Taehyung suggests. “We’re supposed to have breaks. My brother told me about it.”

Jimin perks up. “That would be great! Maybe then I could finally try Emperor’s Smile…” Jimin trails off, his head turning to look at the dense copse of trees beyond the river. His head cocks to the side, a faint furrow between his brow.

“Jimin?”

Jimin wrinkles his nose. “Taehyung, why don’t you go back first? I want to check something.”

“Check on what?”

Jimin shrugs, smiling through his uncertainty. “I don’t know. But it’s something!” he folds his durumagi over his arm, stuffing his damp feet into his boots as he hastens away. “I’ll tell you about it later!”

“Wait, Jimin!” 

Jimin is already gone, his lithe form disappearing between a cluster of trees. Taehyung looks at his soaked clothes and grimaces, plucking the wet fabric away from his skin. 

“Hope nobody asks me about this…”

Namjoon skirts around the outermost edge of Horangi Recesses, cautious in each step to avoid setting off any hidden ward alarms. Wards are not his specialty, but it would be foolish to assume a sect wouldn’t have protections to guard against intruders or other lurking dangers. Today, Namjoon is - by proxy - one of those lurking dangers, and for the sake of his village and his brother, he doesn’t want to give himself away.

In the weeks he has been at the Horangi lectures, Namjoon has carefully combed through every open area - the libraries, the ancestral halls, the courtyards, and study rooms. While the private residences are still on his list of places to check, he has yet to think of an excuse that would get him into the innermost sanctum of the sect. And that leaves only one other area to assess - the back hills, where the highest peaks of the mountain drop off into deep, tumbling ravines and cliffs. 

The beauty of Horangi Recesses is something to admire. The mountain stretches high into the sky, snow-capped this late in the year, and partially obscured by soft clouds. In the back hills, the craggy scenery is dense with red pines and bamboo, lush vegetation that is fed by a swift-moving cold river that twists between cliffs. Right now, Namjoon finds himself standing across from a misty waterfall; the waterfall is so high that the steady trickle of water dissipates into a cold spray long before it reaches the waiting reservoir below. 

Namjoon is pensive as he removes a silver needle from his sleeve. Like countless times before, Namjoon flicks the needle out with a snap of his wrist, watching for any sign of a warded area. And, much to his internal dread, the needle pings off a silver-white ward that guards the waterfall. 

He was right. There’s something hidden in the back hills.

He hates that he’s right. 

What should he do? For the sake of his village, he ought to report this immediately to Lee Chungwoo. But for the sake of peace and everyone else who could become a victim of Chungwoo’s plans, he should not report anything. Yet - if it is discovered that Namjoon hid information, the consequences could be unthinkable. Something could happen to his grandparents, his cousins, his brother…

Either Namjoon must be selfish or selfless. It’s an impossible choice. Namjoon would like better options.

Namjoon holds in a sigh as he calls back his silver needle. Undecided or not, it’s best not to leave any evidence behind. 

He is only just tucking the needle back into the hem of his sleeve when a cheerful voice calls out to him. Namjoon stiffens, holding himself very still as a panting Park Jimin arrives at his side with a wide grin.

“Kim doryeon-nim! How nice to meet you! Have you come to admire the waterfall, too? I hear there’s another on the lower mountain that draws a lot of interesting animals. Did you see any critters here?” Jimin asks in a rapid-fire cadence. He pauses, lowering his voice with a wiggle of his brows. “Or, did you find a secret here?”

Namjoon hopes his face doesn’t betray him. Heart jolting, Namjoon turns away from the waterfall and Jimin, forcing his feet to move steadily. “Just a waterfall, if not a beautiful one. Seoul doesn’t have anything like this. I’ve found a walk around the mountains to be very acclimating.”

That didn’t sound suspicious, right? Although, would Park Jimin be the sort of person to form suspicions? Namjoon isn’t sure. Jimin is loud and chatty and he makes little troubles as easy as most people breathe, but Namjoon doesn’t think the boy is unintelligent. Not when he keeps asking Namjoon about his medical research, which is a topic most people never bother with…

“Why are you here?” Namjoon finds himself asking, slanting a wary eye at the other boy. 

Jimin laughs and gestures to his rather damp appearance. “I’ve just been fishing,” he answers, shaking out his durumagi a few times, the fabric snapping in the cool air. “Although, not very successfully!”

“I see.”

Namjoon did not see. His stomach is churning with anxiety. He just needs to stay cool-headed. He can’t be someone who seems more suspicious than he already is. 

“Could I accompany you?” Jimin asks. “I really want to talk about your latest research! It’s revolutionary! If more doctors would bother learning about the intersection between acupoints and meridians, and how that could accelerate the healing of complex wounds, then surely -”

“You’ve…truly read my publication?” Namjoon asks haltingly. Even though the other boy has been hounding him about it since the first day of lectures, he almost can’t believe that Jimin wanted to have a genuine discussion about his medical cultivation theories. He feels rather disarmed about it. 

“Of course! You’re the greatest mind in the cultivation world as far as I’m concerned,” Jimin says casually. 

“That’s….”

Namjoon is confused. Is Jimin trying to flatter him? Is there a motive? But then, he has observed Jimin and the flighty boy seems to shower compliments on most people as easily as breathing. His favored target seems to be Min Yoongi, who is bothered during class and outside of class about how talented he is or how lovely his calligraphy is or how fierce his swordsmanship is. These compliments aren’t even limited to when Yoongi is in hearing distance, either, and as loud as Jimin is, it’s tough to ignore the constant admirational deluge.

Namjoon suddenly feels a kinship with Yoongi. Against the sincere force of Park Jimin, what can anyone do?

“Even just one afternoon for tea!” Jimin bargains, holding one finger up. “I have so many questions for you! And I’ve been exploring a talismanic theory that commoners may be able to use, so your insight would be invaluable!”

Namjoon weighs the option. Accepting the invitation would help his cover as an ordinary disciple, just another student of the Horangi lectures, and that would better serve his true purpose. But accepting also means spending more time with Park Jimin, who Namjoon is starting to believe sees much more than anyone gives him credit for. In this case, would the risk be worthy of the benefit?

Namjoon is spared from answering with an unintended intervention from his brother. Or rather, his brother’s wayward arrow. As Namjoon and Jimin enter a small clearing where Dohoon has been practicing his archery, their sudden appearance startles his brother so badly that Dohoon loosens the arrow right at them. It’s only Jimin’s quick reflexes as he plucks the arrow out of the air that saves Namjoon from certain injury. 

“Wow! That’s some strength you have!” Jimin praises with obvious awe.

Dohoon drops into several frantic bows. “Oh! So sorry! H-hyung, I’m so - Are you hurt? D-did - A-and doryeong! A-are you okay?”

“Aigoo,” Jimin says playfully, rushing to hold onto Dohoon’s shoulders before he can deliver another deep bow. “What are you so sorry for? Nobody got hurt! No need to apologize!”

Dohoon stares at Jimin with wide, round eyes. “Bu-but I…”

Jimin pinches Dohoon’s cheeks. “Ah, so cute! Don’t worry about it, hubae! Now, I see you have a very fine bow here! And look at the fletching on these arrows. Are you practicing?”

Dohoon looks at Namjoon. “I-I…”

“Do you want some help with your form?” Jimin offers, tapping his chest twice with a proud grin. “Let me tell you, I’m the best archer at Mugunghwa Pier! I might have a few tips for you!”

Dohoon’s gaze is beseeching as he glances between Namjoon and Jimin - and Namjoon understands. Most people overlook Dohoon, considering him a weak, stuttering fool who hides in his older brother’s shadow. Namjoon has always felt the injustice of it, because it’s not Dohoon’s fault he’s like this. Something terrible happened to his little brother, and it’s Namjoon’s eternal shame as a brother and a physician that he is unable to find a cure. 

For someone to treat Dohoon without such bias…

Jimin goads Dohoon into showing his archery form. With a surprising level of patience and gentle teasing, Jimin corrects Dohoon’s stance. Every correction is peppered with generous praise, with Jimin declaring, “Just by the strength of your shot, I can tell you’re probably one of the most gifted archers in your generation." 

Namjoon hangs back and watches as Dohoon relaxes enough to stop stuttering, as a new warmth enters his little brother’s gaze. He observes as Dohoon is guided and accepted, and he feels a sweeping sense of regret that this treatment is not something his brother experiences frequently. 

It comes as no surprise to him when, in the following days, Dohoon waxes many admiring phrases about Park Jimin, his new hero. 

Namjoon doesn’t say anything to discourage it, although he probably should. How can he, when Jimin is one of the only people to ever treat his dearest little brother with such free kindness? Namjoon doesn’t want to do anything to diminish that for Dohoon. 

Namjoon thinks about Dohoon and Jimin, and he thinks about his village and his brother’s safety, and he thinks about what might be hidden on the back hills, and all Namjoon can feel is deep, foreboding conflict. 

He has to make a decision. He hopes he makes the right one.

Hoseok dashes the sweat off his brow, leaning more heavily on one leg than the other. He had been training privately, trying out some of the sword forms that had been demonstrated by other sects during the last sword instruction. Jeon Jeongguk had one particular pivot that Hoseok was determined to adapt into the Jasujeon forms, but the move was much more difficult than it looked. He doesn’t know how the Mugunghwa disciples manage to practice it, but he supposes the foundation of their sword forms lends itself better to such an agile maneuver. 

As it is, Hoseok is pretty sure he pulled a muscle or strained something in his ankle. There is a sharp, piercing pain anytime he places his weight on his foot. It’s his hope that, with enough rest overnight, the strain would heal itself. If not, then he may have to tell Seokjin, and then Seokjin will insist Hoseok visit a doctor, and the whole idea of any of it feels humiliating. 

Hoseok has grown up pushing his body far beyond its limits. But he also knows that, on a farm, a small injury can be a major setback. It’s the same for cultivation. Hoseok can’t lose progress.

So lost in his thoughts, Hoseok almost walks right into the study form of Kim Namjoon. He manages to avoid him at the last second, but in doing so, he steps on his sore ankle and cries out. 

Kim Namjoon’s handsome, masculine face twists in concern. His intelligent dragon eyes zero in on Hoseok’s ankle, his lips thinning. It hardens his already grim expression. Not for the first time, Hoseok thinks that Namjoon is someone who looks very sad. He would wonder why that is, but the answer is obvious, isn’t it? For someone in Namjoon’s obviously difficult position? He wonders if anyone else, if any other of their peers, sees what Hoseok sees. With the amount of self-centered entitlement he’s seen in his years as a gentry disciple, he doubts it.

“You’re hurt?”

Hoseok winces, shifting his weight to the opposite foot. “Training accident. It’s not a big deal.”

“It doesn’t seem like you can walk comfortably.”

Hoseok flushes at the bluntness of the statement. “Yes, well…”

“Should I escort you to the infirmary?” Namjoon offers. 

Hoseok shakes his head quickly. “No, no. There’s no need to bother the Horangi healers for something so minor.”

Namjoon lifts a brow. Something in his demeanor shifts, an analytical air overtaking him. Hoseok swallows as Namjoon steps closer, easily taking half of Hoseok’s weight as he slips his arm around Hoseok’s waist. “You should let me be the judge of that. Come, let me examine you. You may not want to see the Horangi physicians, but I’m a doctor, and I can’t allow someone to limp around in good conscience.”

Hoseok can’t find an argument he thinks might work. Namjoon is solemn as he helps Hoseok hop to the guest quarters that have been allocated for the Sonamu Sect, small as it is. Inside, the dorm looks like any other, except one side of the room is covered in medicinal paraphernalia - drying herbs hanging from the ceiling, a kettle ready to boil, and a mortar and pestle set of obviously good quality. 

Namjoon helps Hoseok sit on the bed, then kneels. He pulls off Hoseok’s boot and sock without warning, his manner somehow gentle yet brisk. Namjoon has warm hands and long fingers with neatly trimmed nails. He presses against the tendons around Hoseok’s ankle, clinical in his examination. 

“The ligament here is almost torn,” Namjoon tells him. He glances up, a furrow on his brow. “You shouldn’t be walking on this at all.”

Hoseok is embarrassed. Sweat has dried on his skin, leaving him tacky-feeling and musty, and he knows he must look unkempt. It’s the kind of appearance no Jasujeon disciple should have. And now, it seems like his injury is more severe than he thought. He’s not even sure how he managed to hurt himself so badly, but he doesn’t doubt Namjoon’s assessment. What is it that Park Jimin is always saying? That Kim Namjoon is a prodigy?

“My core will heal it, though. Right?” he asks, clearing his throat. “I know my golden core isn’t the strongest, but…”

Namjoon’s grip shifts, his forefinger pressing into a meridian point right at the joint of Hoseok’s ankle. Hoseok feels the warmth of spiritual energy travel through his body, the exploration clinical as it settles deep in his stomach, probing the edges of the core Hoseok has worked so hard to build.

“Your core is plenty strong,” Namjoon tells him, swiftly pulling his energy away. 

“Maybe for an average cultivator, but I’ve been chosen as head disciple. I should be stronger,” Hoseok confesses. Ordinarily, he would never share something so personal, not even with Seokjin. But something about Namjoon makes him feel trustworthy, even if, according to others, Namjoon is the least trustworthy disciple at the lectures. “There are others who are stronger than me, and I know they vie for my position. But more importantly, if I was stronger, my core would heal me more quickly…right?”

Namjoon pulls a stool close, placing Hoseok’s foot on it to keep it elevated. He stands and moves to the small table that seems to be his dedicated workstation. As Namjoon collects water, a bowl, and an array of herbs Hoseok can’t identify, he speaks with a low, academic tone. 

“Maybe it would. But maybe not. The golden core can protect you from illnesses and can keep you alive, but some injuries are too complicated,” Namjoon explains. “Cutting your finger will heal easily with your core because the injury is simple. But if you broke your finger, your core would try to heal even if the bone was crooked, and then you would need to re-break the bone to heal it correctly. Many internal injuries are this way. Medicine can guide the yang energy in your body so you can heal more efficiently, so you can avoid complications.”

“I didn’t know that,” Hoseok admits. To him, yang energy and his golden core still seem like magic that he has been lucky enough to harness. Applying that energy in different ways - he can’t quite conceptualize it, even knowing that there are so many other specialties of cultivation. 

Namjoon makes a low, sarcastic noise. He is mixing something together now, steam rising from a bowl as the pestle grinds the mixture together. “Most cultivators are too proud to see a doctor for what they believe are minor injuries. But even a minor injury that heals incorrectly can affect the flow of qi through your body,” he says. Namjoon pauses to transfer the mixture to a clean cloth. “You should always visit a doctor to be safe. It’s stupid to risk a damaged qi flow, especially if cultivation is important enough that you train hard enough to damage your body.”

Hoseok smiles at the blanket censure. He feels chastised, and oddly fond because of it. He waits until Namjoon has wrapped a warm poultice around his ankle before he speaks. “Well, I can’t say I’ve ever visited a doctor as pleasant and informative as you. Could I visit you instead?” he asks, feeling sly.

Namjoon’s grip falters, and the steady stream of ember energy focused on his ankle disappears in a snap, leaving Hoseok’s ankle cold even though the heat of the poultice remains. Namjoon licks his lips, quickly wrapping Hoseok’s ankle with a sturdy fabric.

“Let me prescribe a tea. It will manage the inflammation and pain,” Namjoon mutters. 

He quickly sorts through some ready-made packets of tea stored in a simple wooden box and hands several to Hoseok. One set is tied with a red string, and the other is tied with a white string.

“Drink this twice a day, morning and night, for the next three days. Your ankle should be fine by then,” he says, gesturing to the red-string packets. Then Namjoon indicates the white-string packets, of which there are at least twice as many. “You can use this once a day, right before meditation. It will help you strengthen your core.”

Hoseok doesn’t know much, but he does know that herbs used to strengthen the golden core are precious. Not everybody has the privilege of using them, but Namjoon is giving them to Hoseok freely. Hoseok’s stomach swoops as he takes the tea packets, his fingers brushing against Namjoon’s warm palms.

“Thank you,” he says quietly. 

Namjoon shakes his head gravely, dropping his eyes. “It’s the least I can do.”

Hoseok shivers.

Jeongguk has no idea where his brother is. This isn’t unusual. Given half the chance, Jimin always gleefully runs off when he has any free time. At home, this usually means he’s running around Busan to play with kids and taste the latest street food. At Horangi Recesses, Jeongguk has no idea what Jimin is getting up to, but he hopes the ensuing chaos is minimal.  For Jimin’s sake, it’s best if nothing gets back to Jeongguk’s mother about his behavior or conduct. Hopefully, Jimin will remember this.

I doubt it , Jeongguk groans internally. He knows his brother very well - Jimin will do what Jimin will do, regardless of almost anything else. 

Jeongguk sighs, slowing to a stop on the easy path swerving through one of the more remote areas of the mountain. There are two warm steamed buns in his hand, and one is intended for his brother. But since he can’t find Jimin, he tucks the buns away for later.

Jeongguk looks around. “Where am I?” 

There are pine needles scattered across the ground and a pleasant chill in the air. It’s so quiet Jeongguk almost doesn’t know what to do with himself. He’s never been in a place as quiet as Horangi Recesses. It’s serene, but it also feels unnatural. Otherworldly. He doesn’t know if he likes it or not. 

Not too far ahead, there is a small stream that opens into a puddle of a lake, the depth just barely enough to accommodate the curious fish swimming through. Dozens of large boulders surround the little lake, acting as convenient benches. Jeongguk takes advantage of the resting place, sitting down heavily, his sword resting across his lap. He leans back, holding his weight on his arms, face tilted up to the sun that dapples through the canopy of trees. 

Maybe the quiet is nice. Jeongguk can finally hear himself think . The stillness is strange to him, but not unwelcome after the stress of keeping up with the lectures.

Jeongguk knows Jimin is terribly bored with all the repetitive information, but Jeongguk is finding new things to learn. He’s certain his brother has studied far, far ahead of any of their peers because a good portion of each class is imparting new knowledge to Jeongguk. The amount of studying, the essays that must be written, the meditation regimen, and the bland diet is a lot to keep up with. Jeongguk now intimately understands why Horangi disciples are such killjoys - they definitely don’t have time to develop anything resembling a personality. 

Which makes Jimin’s obsession with Min Yoongi all the more confusing. Yoongi is a block of ice. Maybe Jimin is entertained by the challenge of chipping away that frozen exterior? Best of luck to him, then. This may be one goal Jimin will never be able to achieve…

A scraping noise draws Jeongguk from his thoughts. He slits his eyes open and the first thing he sees is a pair of boots dyed a deep shade of magenta, followed by long legs, a tapered waist, broad shoulders, and plush lips set over almond-shaped eyes. Seokjin. 

Seokjin!

Jeongguk straightens abruptly, nearly toppling himself off the boulder. What follows is an embarrassing display of Jeongguk’s flailing limbs while he rights his balance. Face hot, he looks at Seokjin, who appears faintly amused.

“You startled me,” Jeongguk mutters.

“Apologies,” Seokjin offers.

It’s the first direct words he’s spoken to Jeongguk since the lectures began. He tries not to appear too visibly affected by it, but he probably fails. He’s mortified.

Jeongguk licks his lips, casting his mind around for something to talk about - anything - so he can keep Seokjin’s attention. What he settles on is a vaguely accusatory, “What are you doing here?”

Seokjin lifts a brow. “The same as you. Enjoying the afternoon off.”

“Right.”

Seokjin hums. 

But he doesn’t leave. Why doesn’t he leave? He always leaves. Should Jeongguk leave instead?

Jeongguk stands up and Seokjin’s eyes snap to his. Seokjin looks…If it were anyone else, Jeongguk would interpret that expression as nervous , but this is Kim Seokjin. He has no reason to be nervous, certainly not around Jeongguk. 

“The weather is nice. Cold.”

Jeongguk nods slowly. “But it probably gets colder in Gwancheon, this time of year. Right?”

“Ah. Yes, I suppose…” 

Seokjin looks like he’s at a loss for words, and Jeongguk is no better. He’s never been in this position before. He doesn’t know how to hold an actual conversation with Seokjin because he’s never actually had the opportunity to do so. Maybe if Seokjin had answered any of the letters Jeongguk had sent, they would have a topic to chew on. But right now, the only thing Jeongguk can think of is -

“Why did you throw us out of the inn?”

Oh. Oh, no. He did not mean to say that out loud. 

Seokjin startles, his mouth popping open. “That was…The Jasujeon Sect has a certain reputation to uphold. You understand,” Seokjin says.

Jeongguk really doesn’t understand. “Jimin got in trouble because of it. We almost had to sleep on the mountain.”

Stop , he whines internally. Stop talking. You’re going to make him mad .

But Jeongguk is feeling bold, feeling a little reckless. He’s even maybe angry with Seokjin, who has done such a fine job of ignoring Jeongguk up until now. Maybe he should make his betrothed mad!

A flush rises on Seokjin’s cheeks. “That was not my intention. I didn’t think…”

Jeongguk squares his shoulders, standing up as tall as he can. He’s still shorter than Seokjin and has a great deal of growing to do, but he can already tell that he’s going to be larger than Seokjin one day. Already, Jeongguk’s hands are broader, less delicate. He might not look like the man who will be Seokjin’s husband, but he can certainly act like it. 

“When we are married and we lead the Mugunghwa Sect together, I hope you will learn that holding up a reputation is much less important than living up to a good reputation. In Busan, we accommodate those who need our assistance,” Jeongguk says firmly. “As my husband, you will live by this ideal, too.”

Seokjin draws in a quick breath, but though his lips move, no sound escapes him. Had Jeongguk said too much?

Feeling heat gathering at the base of his neck, Jeongguk sketches a quick bow and departs before Seokjin can find any words to rebut him. His heart is positively hammering as he brushes by his betrothed. But then he pauses, pivots on his heel, and retrieves one of the steamed buns from his sleeve. He hands - more like shoves - the bun at Seokjin, not daring to meet those dazzling almond-shaped eyes, and then dashes away.

He can’t believe he just did that.

Seokjin gapes after Jeongguk, disbelief coursing through him as strong as any whitewater river. The boy really had the nerve to say that to Seokjin so bluntly? Seokjin scoffs, shaking his head. Who did Jeongguk think he was?

Well. He’s Seokjin’s groom-to-be. And if anyone has the right to criticize Seokjin’s behavior, it might be his future husband. Especially since Seokjin is marrying into another family where he will be expected to adopt many customs…

The bun is warm in Seokjin’s hand. Soft. It tastes good too, although it’s clearly been pilfered from the Horangi kitchens given the faintly medicinal taste. Seokjin chews slowly, mulling over his conversation with Jeongguk. He is sitting on the same boulder now, eating food Jeongguk has given him, and something about that makes his stomach flutter. 

A large part of him is glad nobody witnessed that frankly mortifying interaction. If Hoseok were here, he would probably have wrecked it all with his braying laughter!

Even without any witnesses, the whole thing is so embarrassing. What had he been thinking, talking about the weather of all things? And he still isn’t sure how the conversation soured, but he does realize he just caught a glimpse of the man his future husband will become. And that man will be strong. 

Strong enough to protect Seokjin from the vipers in his family, even.

He exhales shakily, staring down at the half-eaten bun.

The next bite is sweeter than the last.

Chapter Text

It seems the weather on the mountain has plunged directly into fall, with hazy foggy mornings and a nipping chill in the air. It makes waking up at five in the morning twice as difficult, even though the dorm is generously heated and hot tea is never more than a few moments away. 

Ordinarily, Jimin is not a fan of cold weather. His years on the street in Ulsan, while fuzzy in his memory, had left him with a healthy fear of the cold months. In Busan, the drop in temperature is a signal for Jimin to cloister himself in his room so he can think up all sorts of new talismans to test when the spring comes. Jimin hadn’t given winter on the mountain more than a hairsbreadth of thought, but this early in the autumn, he finds he doesn’t dislike the colder, elevated climate. Something about the earlier-than-usual chilliness, the darker, longer days, and the fog of his breath in the air is novel and exciting. 

And maybe it’s because his stomach is warm from the mild kimchi stew or because his body is warmed by a thicker, wool-and-silk durumagi, but Jimin is outright chipper as he bounces to the lecture hall for the afternoon lectures. It’s been a good day so far!

Up ahead, Jimin spies Kim Seokjin and Jung Hoseok approaching the classroom from the opposite direction. Feeling mischievous, Jimin darts forward so he can stand in front of the open classroom door. Jimin takes several moments to make a big show of stretching, reaching his arms high above his head, and twisting his torso back and forth, all with big, gusty sighs, even as people line up impatiently behind him.

“Hyung,” Jeongguk calls tiredly. 

Jimin pretends to startle, turning around with wide eyes. Seokjin is right behind him, his foot tapping against the stone. Jimin is delighted by the older boy’s unimpressed glare. Behind him, Hoseok appears amused at Jimin’s antics, because Hoseok is a reasonable fellow who understands how to take a joke. On the other side, Jeongguk is giving Jimin the droll-eyed stare he produces when he thinks Jimin is being especially obnoxious. 

“Do you mind?” Seokjin clips. 

 “Oh, I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to block the way. I wouldn’t want to offend the great third doryeon-nim of the Jasujeon Sect,” Jimin titters and steps back. He grins when Seokjin rolls his eyes, flicks his sleeve, and marches into the classroom. “Hoseok-sunbae, how are you?”

“Jimin,” Hoseok returns pleasantly, easing past Jimin’s one-person roadblock neatly. “Will you be causing trouble today?”

“You say that as if I mean to cause trouble!” Jimin exclaims.

Jeongguk snorts, shoving at Jimin’s shoulder so they can find their seats in the classroom. “Don’t you?”

“I’m offended,” Jimin declares. “You, my dear dongsaeng, have offended me greatly!”

“Sure.”

“I don’t know how I’ll recover!” Jimin says dramatically. He throws himself across his desk, pretending to cry. 

“You’re so embarrassing,” Jeongguk gripes, his face slowly reddening. “Why did you have to do that? What if you annoyed him?”

Jimin drops his crying act, but he remains slumped over his desk. He turns his head, pillowing his cheek on his propped-up fist. “And so what if I did? He deserves to be hassled a little. You’ve been in a mood for days and it’s all his fault. Am I wrong?”

“I have not been in a mood.”

“You’ve been moody.”

“I have not .” Jeongguk glares.

“How would you know?” Jimin counters. “You’re not the one dealing with you.”

“You! Just wait until -”

A throat clears loudly right above Jimin’s head. He jumps, turning to look at the severe face of Min Jinwoong. “Be silent,” he orders, folding his hands behind his back.

Jimin ducks his head. Somewhere in the classroom, Taehyung’s distinct giggles can be heard, although he tapers off when Jinwoong spares him a long stare. 

As he always does, Min Jinwoong launches directly into his lecture with only a brief review of the materials that have been assigned at the end of the last class. Jimin has to admit he appreciates the pacing of Jinwoong’s classes, even if the material is still dreadfully boring. After several minutes, Jimin’s posture slumps and he stifles a yawn, glancing around at his classmates. Some look engaged, others confused, and only a handful look as bored as Jimin feels. 

Min Yoongi is always the exception. With that blank face of his, Jimin has a hard time getting a grasp on what Yoongi is feeling. He sincerely doubts someone as dead clever and strong as Yoongi actually finds these lectures informative, but for all appearances, Yoongi is a good student, his brush always in motion as he takes notes. Thanks to the layout of this particular classroom, with disciples divided into rows facing each other so Jinwoong can pace down the center aisle, Jimin has all the time in the world to watch Yoongi. His stare must finally draw Yoongi’s attention because the other boy finally looks up.

Jimin wiggles his fingers in a happy wave. Yoongi blinks slowly and looks back at his notes. It feels dismissive. Jimin thinks Yoongi is so stubborn it’s actually funny. All it does is make Jimin want to try that much harder to win Yoongi's attention. 

About halfway through the lecture, Jimin sketches out a note on a piece of scrap paper. He waits until Jinwoong is turned away, and then flings the note at the teacher’s back. Almost immediately, the rest of the class is giggling at the depiction of a stick figure crying out of boredom. 

Jinwoong stiffens and glares at them, but he doesn’t know the note is stuck to his back. After a moment, he resumes his lecture, louder than before and with significantly more narrow-eyed staring. 

Jimin bites his lip to suppress his laughter, proud of his handiwork.

But across the aisle, Yoongi’s eyes widen. He makes a quick gesture with his fingers, calling the note to him without his uncle’s notice. Yoongi’s golden feline eyes flicker to Jimin, and he holds Jimin’s gaze as he crushes the note into a ball.

Jimin grins gleefully. Yoongi’s eyes sharpen, his agitation almost palpable. Jimin’s smile fades and he draws back with a frown. Yoongi actually seems angry!

Well, who cares? Just because Yoongi wants to be boring, doesn’t mean Jimin has to be. It was just a joke, so Yoongi can glare all he wants. 

Jimin huffily picks up his brush, lips pulled into a pout while he doodles a cute fluffy bunny and a mean old tiger chasing each other over a mountain. The lecture drones on, just as boring as ever, for quite some time. Jimin stops paying attention, hoping the class would be over soon. Maybe he could go back to the back hills and teach Kim Dohoon more archery - or better, figure out why Kim Namjoon was making ward energy fluctuate by that waterfall…

“Park Jimin!” 

Jimin jerks in surprise, standing up at the call for attention. “Here! I’m here!”

Beside him, Jeongguk groans. “Oh, no…”

Min Jinwoong is standing before Jimin, his lip curled in disapproval. “I see you don’t need my lecture. You already know everything,” he says sharply and Jimin winces. “Let me ask you, then. What are the steps for righteously freeing a turmoiled ghost?”

Righteously freeing a turmoiled ghost? Well, that’s an easy answer, isn’t it? But is it the best answer? Jimin stays quiet, thinking about the accepted methods and the methods that have not yet been explored. He can see that many of his classmates are flipping through their texts to search for the answer. 

“Don’t look at your books! Think about it for yourself!!” Jinwoong barks and then looks at Jimin expectantly. “Well?”

Jinwoong waits and waits for Jimin’s response, his expression turning smug when no answer comes. The teacher then turns to his nephew, who stands up when he is called. “Yoongi, answer the question.”

Yoongi’s deep voice rumbles through the classroom dutifully. “Liberation, suppression, elimination. By sticking to these methods, no errors will be made. Peace will be restored to the people.”

“Textbook perfect. Well done,” Jinwoong praises him. “If all students paid such diligent attention to the lecture, more people would be able to produce an answer.”

Jimin can recognize a pointed remark when it’s made! He grew up under the thumb of Madam Jeon, after all! And he can’t let it stand that people might assume he didn’t know the answer to such a pitifully easy question.

“Aigoo!” Jimin calls out with a pout. “It’s not that I didn’t know the answer. I was just thinking of another solution.”

Jinwoong pauses, seeming curious despite himself. “Another solution? There are only three acceptable answers.”

Jimin thumbs at his lower lip in thought. “But what if there were four? What if there was another path to take before elimination?”

“Explain,” Jinwoong demands tersely. 

“Well…” Jimin hesitates for only a second before rushing into his answer. “What if the resentful energy was redirected before it was eliminated?”

The fury grows swiftly on Jinwoong’s face, almost astonishingly fast. “Park Jimin! To suggest controlling any form of yin energy is heresy!” the teacher scolds, and many students flinch at his volume. Jimin’s shoulders draw together as Jinwoong makes a sharp gesture. “You do not learn to cultivate so you can reverse the natural order!”

And Jimin knows - he does! - that the natural order is important. As a cultivator, it’s his duty to ensure the natural order is kept! He protects the balance of yin and yang by eliminating yin before it can sweep through the world unchecked. All things must bow to the everlasting cycle and all things must be in balance to maintain harmony.

But…

“But what if it was better? Or kinder?” he asks quickly. “Redirecting the resentment would be a way to liberate the ghost before elimination, which would save the soul from being too damaged to enter the reincarnation cycle!”

Min Jinwoong throws the scroll he has been reading the lecture from. He’s so mad his beard is trembling. Jimin ducks to avoid the scroll, but continues after the scroll smacks into the wall. He’s talking louder and faster now, trying to get all his thoughts out before they leave him.

“Think about it!” he challenges. “Liberation is the first step, but sometimes souls can’t be liberated because their final request would cause harm to others. What if a soul wants revenge as its final wish?”

“In that case, suppression is next,” Yoongi cuts in sternly. He stares at Jimin with something close to reproach. “Then elimination if the ghost cannot be suppressed. No other steps.”

Jimin looks at Yoongi earnestly now. Min Jinwoong may not want to engage in an intellectual discussion, but it seems Min Yoongi will! Jimin knew Yoongi was smart - even if he was sticking to textbook answers!

“But suppression is temporary,” Jimin says. “Suppression always inevitably leads to elimination, which means we’ve already failed the soul infected with yin energy when we cannot meet the requirements for liberation. And when we fail, that soul is destroyed for good, which is surely just as unjust as murder -”

Jinwoong throws another scroll, seemingly retrieved from his pockets. Yoongi, on the other hand, appears somewhat thoughtful. Jimin knows his point is a good one, and he can’t be the only cultivator who was swallowed with guilt each time total exorcism was required. Many of his classmates, especially the ones who don’t look horrified by the turn in the class discussion, are watching with wide, interested eyes. 

“Ah, seonsaeng-nim! Min seonsaeng-nim, please, let me finish!” Jimin entreats. “Please, doesn’t it make sense to at least try to cleanse the soul in another way before elimination is considered? If the resentful energy is redirected, it may weaken its hold on the soul and allow for liberation through cleansing talismans - or even musical cultivation -"

"Park Jimin! Enough!"

"-and humans already use redirection righteously!” Jimin reasons passionately. “Every dam that is built to redirect a river to avoid destroying a village is superior to allowing that village to be destroyed in a flood, is it not?”

“This redirection you speak of is heretical! It goes against the natural order!” Jinwoong booms. 

“Why? Energy is energy!” Jimin fires back. “We cultivate yang energy but yin energy exists naturally in the world! We feel it every day! Redirection could save a soul! How is this heretical?”

Jinwoong makes a sharp, angry gesture. “All cultivators who have tried to control yin energy have gone mad! This is a fool’s errand!”

But Jimin shakes his head. He knows that Jinwoong's reasons are the accepted response, and there are records of at least one infamous cultivator who lost his mind trying to cultivate with yin energy. But yin energy is natural energy, the natural counterbalance to yang energy. Yin energy is comprised of darker emotions and shadows, but it is also earthly, and exists so that yang energy can bring light and warmth. It's more present than yang energy, which is so ephemeral it dissipates as easily as mist through the fingers.

“Surely there’s a way to redirect yin energy without allowing it to corrupt -”

Jinwoong is quick to cut him off. “And have you thought about how to do that?” he inquires irately. "Have you thought of a way to safely redirect this energy without allowing it to corrupt you? Without allowing it to hurt others? Redirected resentful energy from an unhappy soul - that could only lead to revenge and undue harm! Have you thought of any of this?"

Jimin pauses. He hasn’t thought of a way, but that doesn’t mean he couldn’t think of a way. A safe way, even.  “Well, no -”

“Good! If you did, the entire cultivation world would be your enemy!” Jinwoong declares, louder and more impassioned than before. There is a clear warning in his tone, if not caution. There is also, Jimin thinks, fear. 

Of what? The unknown? Or the dangers of yin energy? Surely, it must be better to learn than blindly fear, right? And isn’t it a good thing if cultivators can learn more about yin energy? Maybe everyone isn’t as sensitive to the fluctuations of energy in the natural world as Jimin is, but learning how to find yin energy early could be helpful to the common people. He can’t help but think about how much better it would be to find strong concentrations of yin energy before it transforms into resentment or creates malicious spirits. 

“But seongsaeng-nim -”

“Park Jimin! Get out of my class! Leave and do not return!” his teacher yells, and many in the classroom gasp. To be expelled from the class by the teacher is extreme, even Jimin knows that. “Punishment will be assigned to you shortly!”

“But-”

“Go!” And Min Jinwoong turns his back, his shoulders trembling with rage. 

Jimin flinches at the roar. He leaves so quickly he doesn’t even gather his belongings and he doesn’t even dare to look at Jeongguk - or Min Yoongi. His heart is pounding and he just can’t understand why Jinwoong got so mad. It was just a theory. Shouldn’t he ask his teacher about something like this?

And was he so wrong? Jimin doesn’t remember much about his mother, but he does remember that she respected yang and yin energy equally. She taught him enough that he can sense both easily. And Wanderer Yon was so highly respected, not just for her skills, but also because she was the disciple of the Immortal Wanderer - and if his mother learned from the Immortal, then didn’t that mean that Jimin was right? If Jimin’s skills have been passed down from his grandmaster by his mother, then doesn’t that mean yin energy should be explored more thoroughly, rather than feared and shunned? If an immortal is respectful rather than fearful of yin energy, then shouldn’t mortal cultivators also follow this lead?

Jimin doesn’t know. His mind is churning as much as his stomach, and for once, he doesn’t think his easy cheer with return readily. For lack of anything else to do, he goes back to the guest quarters, slinking back to his room with a pervasive feeling of disquiet.

“Hyung,” Jeongguk greets softly, his tone nearly as quiet as the cautious way he enters the room. He’s treating Jimin so uncertainly, but Jimin can’t bring himself to do anything more than grunt at him from under the silk duvet of his bed.  

“I’ve been tasked with delivering your punishment,” Jeongguk continues after a beat. There is shuffling in the room as he toes off his shoes, his bed creaking as he sits down on his bed. “It will be one thousand copies of Conduct in the library. You… won’t be allowed back to any classes until you’re done.”

One thousand copies seem excessive, in Jimin’s opinion. But at least it’s not a beating, even though that would be easier for him to take.

“Your punishment will be overseen by Min Yoongi since he’s the dead of discipline…”

Oh. That’s - well, that’s a little embarrassing. Jimin’s face feels hot, though he’s not sure why he’s so bothered by the idea of Yoongi monitoring his punishment. Maybe he’s still a bit miffed by the afternoon. 

“Hyung, what were you thinking?” Jeongguk whispers. “To bring something like that up in class - even if you were joking, it wasn’t very funny…”

“It was just a question,” Jimin grumbles, curling himself into a tighter ball. 

“It was more than a question and you know it,” Jeongguk replies with more than a little censure. “Hyung, you aren’t really thinking about doing something like that, are you?”

At this, Jimin lets out a sharp breath. He sits up, flinging his duvet away from his face, and looks at his brother with great offense. “Of course not!” he says firmly, brows furrowed. “Why would I need to with the level of cultivation I have?”

Jeongguk looks a little confused. “But then, why bring it up?”

Some of Jimin’s offense deflates. He picks at his nails, shrugging. “I just think it’s a shame that souls may be lost because they can’t be liberated. It’s a bad thing, you know. To miss out on the reincarnation cycle just because we, as cultivators, couldn’t meet the last wish or cleanse resentment without destroying the soul…”

Jeongguk nods. On the few nighthunts he’s been on so far, he’s expressed his dissatisfaction when souls can’t be liberated and must be suppressed or eliminated instead. On one notable occasion, he refused to try anything other than liberation until the soul had grown too malicious. It was a time when Jeongguk’s stubbornness was a dangerous quality, rather than a boon. 

“Still, you shouldn’t say anything about it again,” Jeongguk says.

“I know,” Jimin sighs, though he’s not exactly happy about it. “You're worrying again.”

Jeongguk grabs his pillow and throws it right at Jimin. “Because you make me worry!”

Jimin laughs a little, catching the pillow before it can hit his face. 

Meanwhile, Jeongguk is striding across the room, holding out a lump of something wrapped in a silk cloth. “Here, have this. You missed dinner.”

Jimin had been ignoring the grumbling pangs of his stomach, resigned to eating in the morning, but he should have trusted Jeonggukie. His little brother would never let him go hungry if he could help it. 

Jimin eagerly unwraps his spoils, happy to find gimbap and steamed egg buns. “Gguk-ah! You’re the best!”

Jeongguk rolls his eyes, but that does nothing to hide the pleased uptick of his lips.

The Horangi Sect is famous for having countless libraries, each filled to the roof with scrolls and books and rare texts. So far, during his time at Horangi Recesses, Jimin hasn’t visited the libraries or study rooms very often. But today and for the foreseeable future, he truly has no choice.

He is due to serve his punishment at one of the smaller library pavilions, although small is a relative term. The library is much larger than the single library at Mugunghwa Pier, and the collection of books is significantly more organized. There are dozens of rows of tall, white-painted shelves, with at least one or two low tables tucked between book collections. In the center of the room is a slightly elevated deck that wraps around the main support of the pavilion, and this is where Jimin finds Min Yoongi. 

Yoongi has already spread out a collection of books, seemingly for self-study to keep himself occupied while he oversees Jimin’s punishment. It’s just after breakfast and the sun has yet to warm the chilly air, but Yoongi looks flawless and much more well-rested than Jimin, who wears his guest disciple uniform rather haphazardly. When Jimin enters the library pavilion, Yoongi’s golden eyes flicker once to him and then to a table not too far away where blank scrolls have been stacked beside a copy of Conduct , along with an inkstone and two brushes.

Deciding not to test his luck this early in the morning, Jimin sketches a short bow, sits down at his table, and sets to work. It’s terribly dull. The first scroll is somewhat interesting because all of the material is new, but by the time Jimin finishes the tenth copy, he is thoroughly bored out of his mind. At this point, his mind wanders as he re-writes the same phrases and he finds his thoughts drifting to how much he misses the spice of gochujang and the new talismans he wants to work on and how much he misses nighthunting even though it hasn’t really been that long since his last hunt…

Jimin was foolish for thinking copying the same scroll one thousand times would be better than a beating. At least with a beating, the punishment concluded quickly! With all this copying, Jimin is forced to sit in the same place for such a long time, doing the same thing over and over again. Really, the Horangi Sect is so exceptional - even their punishments are far beyond other sects. 

Could Jimin ask for a beating, instead? Probably not. And Jeongguk would get that awful sad look on his face, so Jimin will just have to endure .

But that doesn’t mean he has to endure quietly!

Jimin impatiently finishes the scroll he’s currently working on, his calligraphy far beyond illegible at this point. Nobody said he had to make his copies neatly , after all. He blows on the ink, fanning the page quickly before he sets it aside. Jimin stands up with a great groan, twisting his body to work the stiffness out of his back.

With a grin, Jimin hops over to Yoongi’s elevated desk. He stands there for a few moments, waiting for acknowledgment, and then plops down on the floor when Yoongi doesn’t even spare him a second of attention. 

Min Yoongi really is beautiful , Jimin thinks with a great sense of admiration. It wouldn’t surprise Jimin at all to learn that Yoongi is ranked at the top of the list of eligible young masters! With such poise and cultivation skills and his otherworldly appearance, Yoongi is obviously a top candidate. Such elegance is something Jimin can spend many minutes marveling over, and so he does, leaning his chin on his closed fist as he studies the dark fan of Yoongi’s sooty lashes and the delicate petal-pink of his lips. All the while, Yoongi ignores him.

Unbothered, Jimin leans closer to peer at what Yoongi is working on. Upside down, it looks like some kind of musical theory. But Jimin never formally learned to read music. He’s a deft hand at a simple flute because he has a good ear, but Madam Jeon had never extended music lessons to him, so much of what he knows he has picked up from street performers and taverns. Whatever Yoongi is working on looks terribly advanced. Jimin can’t help himself - he stretches out his hand so he can poke at the music notes on the page.

This, finally, earns him Yoongi’s notice. The other boy’s brush pauses and he looks up, golden eyes slightly pinched.

Jimin quickly lifts his hand, holding both up in the air. “Ah, Min doryeon-nim! I didn’t do it on purpose,” he says hastily. “I just wanted to ask a question!”

Yoongi arches his brow silently. 

Jimin titters. “Hey, isn’t asking questions a good thing?”

Yoongi’s expression tightens. “Not always.”

Well. If that wasn’t a pointed comment! Jimin can’t help but laugh. “Be nice!” he chides.

Yoongi looks back at his work, clearly dismissing Jimin. And Jimin can’t have that! If Yoongi won’t interact with him and if Jimin can’t leave the library until the end of the class schedule, then he’ll have to go back to making those dreadful copies!

“You’re calligraphy is the best. Better than the best!” Jimin praises. “I bet you’re the best player in your generation, too. You’re definitely the strongest Horangi disciple! Hey, what instrument do you play? I heard Horangi disciples can specialize in almost any instrument, but I bet you picked the best one.”

Yoongi continues taking notes or whatever it is he’s doing. He calmly turns to a new page, dipping his brush into the inkstone. 

Jimin huffs. “Min doryeon-nim! It’s rude to ignore people, you know!”

Yoongi is unmoved.

“Min doryeon-nim! Doryeong! Min Yoongi Yoongi-sunbae!” Jimin calls loudly. “Yoongi! Hyung!”

At hyung , Yoongi finally looks up. His expression is stony, feline eyes flashing dangerously. 

Jimin gasps, sitting back. “Hey, can you stop glaring at me? You were ignoring me! I had to call you hyung so you would pay attention.”

“Do not,” Yoongi says coldly. 

Jimin snorts. “Well, why not? What else should I call you? We have such close cultivation levels, I might as well call you hyung!”

“No.”

“I don’t call anyone else hyung,” Jimin continues, not paying any attention to Yoongi’s terse replies. He moves to lean both elbows on Yoongi’s desk, draped halfway across the surface so he can peer at Yoongi’s minute expressions. He swears Yoongi shows actual emotions if he looks close enough! “Since you’re so special, you deserve a special address, don’t you think? We’re so close!”

“Not close,” Yoongi counters.

Jimin wrinkles his nose. “Aren’t you paying attention? Of course, we’re close! We have the same cultivation level. Who is closer than us? Ah, but if you’re mad about me calling you hyung, you can just call me Jimin-ah! Nobody else does!”

“..Mn.” Yoongi’s gaze drops to where Jimin is laying across his desk. “Sit properly.”

Jimin corrects his posture, fiddling with one of the loose stacks of paper on Yoongi’s desk. “By the way, Yoongi-hyung,” he starts. “Why do you hate me so much? Hey, are you ignoring me again?”

Yoongi sighs deeply. He returns to his work, albeit slightly less focused than before. Jimin has the sense that Yoongi is paying attention to him, even if it doesn’t look like he is. 

“I know I broke the rules first, but I really didn’t mean to!” Jimin says defensively. “Can’t you forgive me for breaking the wards and climbing the wall before?”

Yoongi continues writing.

“And to be honest, you started the fight first, didn’t you? I already forgave you,” Jimin tells him. “Shouldn’t the one who started the fight also forgive? Are you listening?” 

Jimin leans back into Yoongi’s space. This close up, the sun catches on brighter golden flecks and deeper amber streaks in the gold of Yoongi’s eyes. Such a unique color…

“Won't you at least look at me if you won’t answer?” he cajoles. 

Yoongi looks at him for exactly three seconds. “Boring. Copy three more scrolls.”

Jimin whines petulantly. “Come on, I already apologized!”

“Not sincere,” Yoongi intones.

“I was sincere! That was a sincere apology!” Jimin declares. Deciding to be helpful, he reaches for Yoongi’s inkstone, grinding up more ink for the other boy. Jimin offers a winsome smile. “I’ll apologize until you are content. I’ll even get on my knees for you!”

“Jimin!” Yoongi says sharply, his ears flushing red. 

Jimin laughs uproariously, clutching at his sides even as Yoongi glares at him. Jimin laughs and laughs until, abruptly, his laughter is cut off as his lips are magically sealed. 

Yoongi actually cast the silence spell on him again ! 

Jimin stands up and stomps his feet, waving his arms about angrily. All his muffled protests are predictably ignored, although he is treated to the sight of Yoongi’s rather self-satisfied smirk. The expression is so dastardly and attractive that Jimin is left speechless, and so he ends up sulking at his desk to finish three more scrolls of copying just like Yoongi wanted. 

What an underhanded tactic! Min Yoongi is so interesting. 

Taehyung is watching with rapt attention as one of Jimin’s papermen frolics across the dorm, bothering Jeongguk with more glee than one might expect from a thin piece of animated paper. Presently, the paperman is climbing up the high bridge of Jeongguk’s nose to starfish across his face, preventing Jeongguk from browsing one of the illicit titles Taehyung has smuggled into Horangi Recesses. 

“These papermen are so cool, Jimin,” Taehyung chuckles. 

Jeongguk plucks the paperman off his face with a grumble. “At least someone thinks so. Can’t you make them stay away from me?”

Jimin giggles. “No.”

“Menace,” Jeongguk hisses.

“Do you think it would be possible to make a whole puppet?” Taehyung wonders. Beside him, Eunwoo lifts his brows, his attention suddenly sharper than before. He even stops sorting through the porn books, which he had been organizing into some sort of system.

“A puppet?” Jimin repeats. He puffs out his cheeks in thought. “The papermen are already kind of puppets. I guess you mean something more sophisticated, like the puppets at a play house? Or bigger?”

Taehyung’s eyes widen. He shakes his head. “Oh! I don’t know! What if, I mean, would it be possible to make a puppet that was person sized?”

“Anything is possible ,” Jimin says. He raps his fingers on the table a few times. “Making a person-sized puppet would require a lot more spiritual energy from the caster, even if you only wanted to have the puppet perform simple tasks. It would require a more complicated talisman, too, although…I would probably be able to lessen the energy strain if the talisman was redesigned…But theoretically, a person-sized paperman puppet could work. Why?”

Taehyung brings his fan up to his face so only his big green eyes are visible. “No reason! But wouldn’t it be fun? Think of the pranks!”

Jimin laughs. “You want to use it for a prank? I can get behind that!”

Jeongguk grimaces. “Please, don’t. These little ones are already annoying enough.”

Jimin sticks out his tongue. “I’m going to do it just to spite you.”

"I'll pay you if you manage it," Taehyung offers quickly.

At this, Jimin shakes his head. "Pay me? Absolutely not! You're my friend! My prank supplies are your prank supplies."

"You should be paid," Eunwoo says quietly. "For your talisman work, not the pranks."

"He's right," Taehyung nods. "You invent talismans and sects would pay good money to use them."

Jimin frowns, looking at Jeongguk uncertainly. "But...I'm a Mugunghwa disciple. Don't all my talismans belong to my sect? I couldn't possibly be paid for them directly."

Jeongguk sets the porn book to the side. He has his sect heir face on, the serious expression he wears when he feels he must represent his sect. "Actually, hyung...In all fairness, our sect doesn't use your talismans. How many do you have sitting in your room?"

Dozens. Jimin has dozens of talismans in his room that serve all sorts of different functions, but he is the only one who uses them. Madam Jeon has strictly forbidden other disciples from learning talismanic arts from Jimin, let alone using something Jimin has invented. He has been frustrated but resigned to the issue for years, ever since Madam Jeon rejected his first talisman idea.

"If Taehyung-hyung wants to pay you, I don't see why you shouldn't accept," Jeongguk says firmly. "I say this as your future sect leader, not your brother."

Jimin mulls the idea over. It would be nice to have his own spending money. Right now, he has a small stipend as the head disciple of the Mugunghwa Sect, which he admittedly blows on good alcohol and other street wares each month. Anything else he needs is supplied by the sect or paid for by Jeongguk, who is much more frugal with his allowance. 

"If I manage to make a puppet that I'm satisfied with, then you can't pay me too much," Jimin warns.

Taehyung's fan flutters. "Let me decide how much is too much." 

Making one thousand copies of Conduct is a boring task, but it does take considerable time. Every day, Jimin reports to the library pavilion after breakfast and stays until dinner. Lunch is delivered to Jimin and Yoongi by junior disciples, and Yoongi eats silently while Jimin chatters away. When they’re done eating, Yoongi will shoot him a sharp-eyed stare and Jimin will grudgingly fall quiet as he resumes his copying. At the end of the day, his wrist hurts and his hands are smeared with ink. And every day, Yoongi will cast a judgmental stare at Jimin’s poor penmanship as he flips through the copies that have been completed, but he will still accept the scrolls.

It must take weeks of dedicated work for Jimin to finish his punishment. By the time he’s done, early winter has settled firmly over the mountain, and although there hasn’t been a great storm, each morning he wakes to a dusting of snow and ice. 

Jimin is enthralled by the weather, though. Because with the colder weather comes denser white durumagis and heavier hanboks and warm boots. Jimin has never been so warm in the winter! The Horangi Sect really spared no expense outfitting the guest disciples! But more importantly, with the winter comes the vision of Min Yoongi dressed in a fine overcoat trimmed with white fur. The collar of Yoongi’s durumagi is so high that the fur brushes against his soft, pale cheeks, and the cold has leeched most of the color from his skin - he makes a striking figure every day, with winter-red cheeks and glinting golden eyes, his dark hair neatly framed by the white tiger manggeon.

Jimin just really can’t believe how beautiful Min Yoongi is. Truly a once-in-a-lifetime beauty. 

On the last day of his punishment, Jimin speeds through his final copies of Conduct . And then he pulls out an unblemished piece of paper, drags his brush through fresh ink, and settles down to make a sketch of Yoongi. He takes his time and makes sure to capture every lock of hair, every gentle curve of his face. It is, in Jimin’s ever-humble opinion, one of the best works he’s ever produced. 

Jimin springs up once the painting has dried, nearly vibrating in excitement as he approaches Yoongi’s desk, where Yoongi is once again taking notes on the text he’s reading. Jimin clears his throat. “Yoongi-hyung, I have a gift for you.”

Yoongi, of course, doesn’t glance up. “Did you finish all of your copying?”

Jimin rolls his eyes. “Yes, yes! All done! But, I won’t be coming anymore, so I wanted to give you this,” he says impatiently, placing the painting near Yoongi’s elbow. 

Yoongi doesn’t look. He merely flips to the next page in his book, posture still unerringly perfect. 

Min Yoongi, you are such a contrary soul! Jimin thinks with exasperation. He’s certain that if Yoongi would ever deign to engage in a staring contest, he would absolutely win. As it is, he’s also winning at a not-looking contest, and Jimin can’t help but feel provoked by it. He just wants Yoongi to truly react - he’s sure it would be glorious. 

Jimin smiles slyly. “Oh wait! I forgot to add something,” he chirps. Jimin settles down at Yoongi’s table, stealing Yoongi’s brush right from his hand. With a deft hand, Jimin sketches an unfurling hibiscus behind Yoongi’s ear. “All done!”

Yoongi heaves a great sigh. He puts his book down without any haste, then turns his eyes to the painting. He stares for a few moments, then hums deeply. His expression doesn’t flicker. 

“Let me guess, boring? You always say boring!” Jimin complains. “Can you use a different word?”

Yoongi quirks his brow. “Ridiculous,” he intonates.

Jimin grins. "Great! Now add another word!"

"Very ridiculous."

Jimin laughs, clapping his hands in delight. “You did add something! Thank you!”

“Mn,” Yoongi hums. He carefully folds the picture, tucking it into his sleeve, and then raises his book once again. 

But when he opens the book to the page he was reading, his eyes widen and he drops the text in a naked display of shock. The book thuds onto the table, opened neatly in the middle to reveal a provocative picture of two men caught in a delicate position.

Yoongi’s entire face flushes and he stands up so abruptly that the desk scoots across the floor a little. His golden gaze is alight with fire as he snaps, “Jimin!”

Jimin is lost in his laughter, clutching at his ribs as he tries to catch his breath. He raises his hand, full of mirth. “Yes! Me! That’s me!”

With a cold snap of spiritual energy, Yoongi calls his sword into his hand. The motion is so sudden that Jimin falls silent, staring up at Yoongi’s incensed expression in amazement. He doesn’t think he’s ever seen someone quite so angry, which is saying a lot since he lives with Madam Jeon!

“Hyung!” Jimin chides with a light-hearted smile. “Behave yourself. Don’t you know there’s no fighting in the library?”

“Shameless!” Yoongi says with unconcealed contempt. 

Yoongi is so mad! This is the exact reaction Jimin has been looking for. He knew that stone-cold face could show another expression besides dispassion! Granted, Jimin didn’t think Yoongi would be this mad, but…

“Ah, should I feel shame about that?” Jimin gestures to the open book of porn with a dismissive shrug. “It’s only natural. I refuse to believe you’ve never seen something like that. It’s impossible!”

Yoongi is trembling with anger as he tightens his grip on his sword. When he speaks, his low voice also rumbles with a quiver. “Go outside. We will duel.”

Jimin blows a raspberry. “Aigoo, fighting is prohibited, remember! Your wall of rules says so!”

Yoongi growls, his lips curling away from his teeth. With a sharp gesture, a surge of silvery spiritual energy slams into the book and ruptures the pages into small pieces.

Jimin gasps in shock, scrambling to his feet. “Hyung!” he scolds. “That’s not mine! I borrowed it!”

Yoongi’s glare intensifies and he casts another spell, this time turning the torn book into ashes.

“Ah, this is such a waste! I can’t believe you,” Jimin whines. “A perfectly good book…”

“Fuck off.”

Jimin gapes at Yoongi for several seconds, then props his hands on his lips. “Min Yoongi,” he scolds. “People say you’re the most refined man in our generation, like a rare pearl. And here you are, using such crude language!”

Yoongi glowers at him, and this time he draws his sword successfully. The silver blade shines in the library, an obvious lethal weapon even for all of its apparent purity. 

Jimin titters nervously. “Ah,” he says, holding out his hands. He backs away toward the door, shaking his head. “No need for that, hyung! I can fuck off! I’m good at that!”

Jimin scurries away before he can see Yoongi’s next reaction, which is a shame. But it's better to save his head from Yoongi’s shocking temper! 

“He really told you to fuck off?” Taehyung chortles breathlessly. He’s laughing so hard he almost falls off the log he is balancing on, and it’s only Eunwoo’s quick reflexes that allow him to keep his feet beneath him. “I can’t believe it! Min Yoongi saying that! Can you imagine?”

“No need to imagine! I was there!” Jimin brags, and that sets Taehyung off again.

Jimin smirks, hands folded behind his head as he languidly treads on the mountain path. He’d met up with his brother and classmates after class and convinced them to go on a stroll before dinner. He’s in a very good mood now that his punishment is complete. Plus, he’s still reliving Yoongi’s hilarious reaction. How can someone be so cute when they’re that mad? It must be the magic of the Mins!

“Don’t look so proud of yourself,” Jeongguk grouses. He shoves at Jimin’s shoulder, brows folded together. “What if you offended him? What if…Eomeoni…”

“Aish, I’m not worried about it,” Jimin says dismissively. He’s all the way in Daegu right now. What could Madam Jeon do to him here? By the time he gets home, she will have probably forgotten - that is, if she even hears about such a minor incident between boys, which he highly doubts. 

“You should be,” his brother mutters. 

“You know, I did apologize first! About everything else, I mean,” Jimin says. He wrinkles his nose, looking off to the side. “But he said I wasn’t sincere, so of course, I had to convince him. That’s why I gave him the sketch. And he liked it! I could tell.”

“And then you ruined it. With porn,” Jeongguk says dryly. 

Jimin huffs, rolling his eyes. “We’re men! Don’t we all enjoy that sort of thing? Yoongi-hyung was just being prudish about it.”

“I’m sorry but - Yoongi-hyung ? Since when are you that close?” Jeongguk demands, looking halfway horrified by Jimin’s casualness. “Please tell me you don’t talk that casually to him! He’s the heir of this sect!”

Jimin lifts his chin, patting his chest twice. “Let me tell you, me and Yoongi-hyung are very close. We’re cultivation equals. That’s as close as anyone can be!”

“Hyung, I don’t think-”

“And he called me by name, too! So there.”

Jeongguk sighs. 

Jimin thinks his brother is being very silly about this, always so preoccupied with appearances when skill is obviously what matters most. So what if Yoongi is the Horangi heir? He clearly still needs friends and who better than to be his friend than Jimin? Especially since all of their peers seem so frightened by Yoongi for whatever reason. And, if Yoongi really didn’t want Jimin to call him so casually, he could say something about it!

Jimin turns around, walking backward up the slight incline. Taehyung is being helped down from another log by Eunwoo, his fan held loosely at his side instead of a sword like any other disciple.

“By the way, Taehyung, I’m sorry about what happened to your book! I didn’t think it would be destroyed.” Jimin purses his lips. “I didn’t even get to finish reading it…”

“Ah, don’t worry about it!” Taehyung says cheerfully. “I have plenty more. But…you didn’t mention my name did you?”

Jimin clicks his tongue at his friend. “Please. Do I look like a traitor?”

Jimin and Taehyung share a conspiratorial smile. Eunwoo looks resigned to their bad behavior and Jeongguk rolls his eyes heavenward.

But then Jeongguk’s steady leading pace halts and a fierce frown slashes across his face. He grabs Jimin by the elbow, spinning him around and jerking his chin to something in the distance. A tall pine tree. No. Jimin squints. A dark, misty shape on one of the tallest branches flutters. 

Jimin calls forth his spiritual energy, sketching a basic lighting talisman into the air. His icy blue energy rushes toward the tree, startling the watching figure that had been hiding there. The piercing hoot breaks through the late afternoon peace, followed by the flapping of great wings as a large black owl shoots into the sky. The owl circles overhead once before diving away - further north if Jimin’s sense of direction is right. 

“Was that…”

Jimin shakes his head at his brother’s leading question.

“The dire owl of the Gom Sect,” Taehyung dares to utter. He has drawn his fan over the lower half of his face, his eyes dark and disturbed.

“Only the Lee Clan can control them,” Eunwoo expands quietly. “We see them all the time at Kkachi Abode, especially near our borders.”

“Spiritual spies for the Gom Sect?” Jeongguk asks. 

Eunwoo nods. He’s moved even closer to Taehyung’s side, guarding the heir to the Kkachi Sect. Taehyung leans back into his disciple, his shoulders drawn up, and Jimin suddenly remembers the rumors that the death of Taehyung’s father had somehow been related to the Gom Sect. But how can that be possible if Taehyung’s father died of qi deviation?

Jimin taps his lip. “Spying? What could they be spying on here? At Horangi Recesses?”

“For our sake, let’s hope we never find out,” Jeongguk says grimly.

But Jimin thinks he knows. He thinks - well. Is it unreasonable to think that maybe the Gom Sect is looking for something on the mountain? As much as Jimin doesn’t want to be suspicious of Namjoon or Dohoon, they were still sent by the Gom Sect. Why this year, when all other years the invitation had been rejected? Why was Namjoon in the back hills? Why is the dire owl keeping watch?

Jimin doesn’t say anything, but he wonders . 

And he wonders if any of this has anything to do with that Horangi disciple with the black veins and snatched spirit. 

Chapter Text

Yoongi is studying in the smallest library pavilion again, a significant change that his brother has noted with a keen eye and a teasing smile that Yoongi has refused to acknowledge. 

But having spent the last two months in this library, he has come to prefer it far more than studying in his rooms. After all, there are many more resources conveniently placed in the library that make his independent studies easier. And, he has come to find that he is distracted in his room with his gayageum sitting so readily at hand. If he tries to study in his rooms as he did before, his mind far too easily drifts to the composition sitting beside his prized instrument. A composition he is helpless to ignore, just as he is helpless to ignore its inspiration.

Discipline is the root. Better to remove himself from the distracting environment. 

Ironically, however, distraction seems to follow Yoongi wherever he goes. When he hears an all-too-familiar giggle in the distance, Yoongi can’t help but brace himself for whatever foolery Park Jimin has planned for today. How naive of Yoongi to assume Jimin would leave him alone now that his punishment was complete, especially after their last interaction.

Yoongi glances at the door, waiting for Jimin to barge into the library pavilion, but the door remains closed. Instead - perhaps unsurprisingly - one of the windows starts to rattle, followed by more quiet giggling.

Yoongi sighs, dropping his focus back to his notes. Where was he? Should he even bother continuing with his notes, or should he wait until Jimin has exhausted himself? 

“Hey! Yoongi-hyung!” Jimin whispers from the window.

Yoongi deliberately ignores him. He would never admit it aloud, but it’s almost amusing to see how frustrated Jimin becomes when he is ignored, and Yoongi may as well get some enjoyment out of whatever chaos Jimin intends to bring him today.

Jimin’s next call is only slightly louder. “Psst! Yoongi-hyung! Hyung!”

Yoongi sets down his brush and looks up, affecting a bored expression. Jimin is smiling brightly at him from the window, his head poked into the room and his blond hair shining in the cold winter sunlight. His eyes look particularly silver today, lighter and more reflective from the thin layer of snow covering the ground. 

If possible, Jimin’s smile is even brighter once he has caught Yoongi’s attention. Yoongi watches in muted amazement while Jimin clambers into the library through the window. Why doesn’t he use the door? Nobody else is here, and it’s far more conspicuous to use the window in broad daylight. 

The reason becomes clear quickly enough. Jimin’s lithe figure is bulging around the middle, an extra girth that hides his slim waist. There are two distinct lumps tucked into his durumagi near his belt, one of which seems to be squirming. Jimin seems to be struggling to keep the lumps still as he catches his breath. 

“Hyung!” he calls again, hurrying over to Yoongi. “Hyung, I wanted to apologize again! Sincerely!”

Yoongi lifts a brow, doubtful. 

“No, really!” Jimin says. “Listen, I felt really bad for offending you with my prank - although, really, I think you might have overreacted a bit -”

“Did not overreact,” Yoongi counters.

Jimin wrinkles his nose, somehow still smiling. “Alright, you didn’t overreact. But I still felt bad! So I thought, maybe hyung deserves a present to make up for it. And it’s not a bribe!’ he rushes to say. “I remember the rule! It’s just a gift, okay?”

Yoongi nods. A gift from Park Jimin. Another one, if Yoongi counts the portrait now tucked into a box of mementos in his room. 

Jimin’s smile turns a little sly and Yoongi feels wary. 

“Hyung, close your eyes and hold out your hands.”

Yoongi’s immediate instinct is to refuse because surely nothing good can come from those directions. But, if he refuses, then Jimin will begin to whine and nothing annoys him more than listening to Jimin’s high-pitched complaints. And if Yoongi complies quickly, then Jimin will likely leave him alone and Yoongi can return to his studies. 

Yoongi closes his eyes and holds out his hands. There are several long moments before both hands are filled with something warm and soft - softer than anything he’s ever felt in his life. He opens his eyes and blinks at two fat bunnies sitting on his palms. They are small, likely just grown enough to be independent, with loppy ears and quivering pink noses. One is white and the other is black.

“Do you like them?” Jimin asks breathlessly.

Yoongi opens his mouth. Closes his mouth. The black bunny is exploring the scent of sandalwood on his wrist, almost unbalancing itself, and so Yoongi quickly brings both bunnies close to his chest. He shoots Jimin a wide-eyed look and Jimin smiles toothily. 

“I knew you would like them!” Jimin declares, clapping his hands.

The loudness of his voice has both bunnies flinching, and Yoongi can’t help but wonder how Jimin ever caught such hesitant creatures. It must have taken a while. Yoongi feels a small warmth blooming in his chest. Like Jimin’s other apology, this is clearly something that took effort. Perhaps, Jimin is sincere. Perhaps he does not only tease.

“They’re so fat and cute,” Jimin coos, leaning closer to scrunch his nose cutely at the bunnies. He’s so close Yoongi could almost count his freckles. But then Jimin says, “I bet they’re delicious. Have you ever had rabbit stew?”

Yoongi clutches the bunnies closer, alarmed. “No killing in Horangi Recesses,” he chokes out. 

Jimin titters. “Sure. Well, you’re a vegetarian anyway! No loss there!” He then tilts his head, tapping on his plump bottom lip. “Oh, but pets aren’t allowed either, are they?”

Yoongi frowns. That is indeed one of the rules of his clan. No wildlife should be kept as a pet. But…Yoongi looks down at the glossy black eyes of the bunnies and he can’t bring himself to even entertain the thought of letting them go. Besides, if he releases them back into the wild, what if Jimin takes that as permission to make some kind of stew? No. 

“Rescued,” Yoongi says. “Rehabilitation.”

Rescued from Jimin. Rehabilitated from Jimin’s chaos. Even if Yoongi uttered such nonsense to his brother, it would not be taken as a lie. If Yoongi happens to rehabilitate these bunnies in his backyard, where they can be kept safe from predators, then he is only being humane. Nobody would blame him or think to punish him for it. 

Jimin throws his head back, laughing so hard he stumbles and almost falls. Yoongi feels his ears heat and looks down at the bunnies. Sweet creatures, so trusting of him already. 

“Do you accept my apology then, hyung?”

“Mn,” Yoongi hums. He can’t bare to look up at Jimin though. His expression must surely be too soft, too revealing.

“I’m glad,” Jimin says warmly. “You don’t know how worried I was when I thought I might have offended you. Let me tell you, I actually woke up last night and couldn’t sleep because of it! I know I can be a little thoughtless, but…”

Jimin is shrugging, a little helpless, and Yoongi wonders at the rich contradictions of this boy who tramples over rules without a thought, but also puts so much care into the people around him.

“Well,” Jimin starts with a gusty sigh. “I’d better be off! Jeongguk has probably been looking for me all day, so I shouldn’t make him worry. I’ll see you in class, right hyung?”

“Yes,” Yoongi answers softly, watching as Jimin waves with both hands and climbs back out the window. When Jimin leaves, quiet returns to the library pavilion, but the silence is lighter this time and broken by the gentle snuffling of the bunnies still held against Yoongi’s chest. 

However, the window hasn’t latched properly, letting in a wave of cold air, so Yoongi stands up to close the window himself. As he does, he steps on several scraps of paper that had not been on the floor before, and it doesn’t take him much effort to recognize the scribbles of ink after spending so many days looking over Jimin’s atrocious copies of Conduct . 

Shifting the bunnies to one arm, Yoongi crouches down to collect the paper on the floor. He squints at the squiggles of thick black ink, rotating the paper until it becomes clear that he is looking at some sort of sigil.

Yoongi is no master in talismanic arts. His knowledge of sigils is not advanced enough to parse out what any of these notes might mean, but he knows enough to identify the radicals that are used for advanced talismans. Like many other Horangi disciples, Yoongi has memorized basic talismans that might be useful on a nighthunt, but this is nothing that he recognizes. 

Neither was the talismanic craft it surely takes to power one of Jimin’s papermen. 

Does Jimin invent talismans? That is…certainly a rare skill. Most disciples never manage it, let alone one so young. There are only a few living talisman masters too since talismanic cultivation is generally considered an auxiliary skill. 

Yoongi suspected Jimin was much smarter than he let on before. Now, he is certain. And this surely explains why Jimin is so rowdy in the lectures - he isn’t being challenged. 

Yoongi quickly gathers all the scraps of paper, cleans up his desk, and hastens out of the library pavilion. He must speak with his brother, but first, he must place the bunnies somewhere secure. For now, the basket of sheets in his bathing room will have to do until he can create some sort of enclosure in his backyard.

It isn’t more than an hour later that Yoongi is sitting with his brother and uncle in his uncle’s study. The tea has been poured, a fragrant sollip-cha blend made from the red pines that have been harvested recently. Yoongi sips at the tea languidly, allowing the hot beverage to warm him from the inside out as he collects his thoughts. 

He isn’t sure where to start. And so, he allows the notes to do the talking for him. Yoongi spreads the notes out on the table so his brother and uncle can study them. While Chunghee’s brow furrows, his uncle begins to stroke his beard, pulling one of the scraps of paper closer.

“Yoongi-yah, wherever did you find these?” Chunghee asks. 

“A disciple dropped them,” Yoongi says honestly. 

“A disciple wrote this? My…”

“Hmph. Which disciple?” Jinwoong asks wisely. 

Yoongi sets his teacup down. “Park Jimin.”

His uncle stills, lips thinning behind his facial hair, and Chunghee’s expression shifts from surprised to knowing. Yoongi pointedly ignores the pleased air from his brother. Let Chunghee think what he wants. 

“That disruptive boy,” Jinwoong seethes.

“Samchon,” Yoongi says. “Would Park Jimin not benefit from enrolling under our talisman master?”

“Yoongi! How can you even think to suggest such a thing?” Jinwoong demands. “A boy like that will only bring trouble. It’s bad enough he disrupts his same-age peers! Would you really have him interfere in the studies of his seniors, too?”

“ Do not give up on learning. Be easy on others. Do not hold grudges. Nurture aspirations ,” Yoongi recites promptly. 

Jinwoong narrows his eyes, but he does not refute Yoongi. He stares at the notes of scribbled sigils with an expression torn between acceptance and skepticism. 

Yoongi understands. Jimin tends to inspire this type of reaction in many people. 

Chunghee laughs behind his hand. “Ah, samchon, does Yoongi-yah not have a point? Why not make a recommendation and allow Park doryeong to meet with our talisman master?”

Jinwoong grumbles about it, but he reluctantly agrees to extend an invitation on the condition that Jimin must impress the talisman instructor to be accepted into the class. Not that this will be difficult, given how advanced Jimin’s knowledge is…

Yoongi hides his pleased smile behind his next sip of tea. He tries not to think about why he feels so satisfied.

Someone is knocking on their door. Jeongguk groans, but pulls himself out of bed because he knows Jimin won’t answer it. Glancing at the figure of his sleeping brother, a pillow pulled firmly over his blond head, Jeongguk doesn’t think Jimin has even heard the knocking. 

Jeongguk wipes the sleep out of his eyes quickly, then opens the door. Outside is one of the Horangi junior disciples, who bows with the precise level of respect and passes over a sealed scroll. Jeongguk returns the bow and accepts the missive, more than a little confused. Today is an off day, one of the scheduled breaks that occur every ten days, and he never imagined he would be waking to a - what? Summons of some sort?

“What is…?” Jeongguk clears the sleep-roughness from his throat. 

“An invitation for Park Jimin-doryeong,” the disciple answers promptly. Bowing again, the disciple makes a quick departure, leaving Jeongguk to stare down at the apparent invitation.

An invitation for what ? 

Jeongguk slides the door closed and shuffles over to his brother’s bed. He kicks at the mattress a few times, trying to rouse Jimin. “Hyung. Hyung , get up. It’s for you,” he says, thwapping the scroll across Jimin’s behind a few times. 

Jimin’s arm emerges from the warmth of his duvet, swatting at Jeongguk lazily. “Go ‘way.”

“I’m going to sit on you,” Jeongguk threatens when Jimin starts to snore quietly, his arm dropping limply to the bed. Jeongguk throws himself over his brother and Jimin grunts, automatically trying to throw him off. They wrestle for a bit until they are both alert and sitting up. Jeongguk passes over the invitation. “Open it already.”

Jimin grumbles but pops open the scroll without delay. He scans the contents twice before his entire face melts into an expression of confusion. This prompts Jeongguk to lean his chin onto Jimin’s shoulder, reading the invitation himself. 

“They want you to join a talisman course?” Jeongguk asks. 

“Meet with the talisman master, then join the course. Maybe,” Jimin says. “I didn’t even know they had a talisman master here.”

“Well, it is the Horangi Sect. So.”

“Right…”

Jeongguk and Jimin stare down at the invitation for quite some time, each of them disquieted. It’s strange to receive an invitation like this. As a guest disciple, this is a huge privilege, but Jimin hasn’t exactly endeared himself to the Horangi teachers. So why?

“Did you…ask for this?”

Jimin shakes his head, clearly dumbfounded. “Never.”

Jeongguk pushes down the smidge of jealousy trying to curdle in his stomach. This invitation is a good opportunity for his brother, one he would never get at home because of Jeongguk’s mother. And Jeongguk has no interest in talismans, so he has no reason to be jealous. 

And yet - well, this is just another way Jimin is special. Another way Jeongguk will never be able to keep up. 

But this isn’t about him. It’s about Jimin, who would never ask for something like this himself, and who may reject an invitation like this because he doesn’t feel like his status deserves it. More poison from their childhood that they must overcome. 

“You should accept,” Jeongguk urges him. 

Jimin gives him a doubtful look. It’s probably the most vulnerable expression his brother has let him see in years. 

Jeongguk nudges him, his mouth slanting into a smile. “Accept it. When else will you get to talk to a master? Or learn from one? You have all these ideas. Plus,” he adds with another gentle nudge. “I’m tired of you trying to blow up Mugunghwa Pier with your experiments.”

“It was one time ,” Jimin whines. But he doesn’t throw the invitation away and he leans further into the warmth of Jeongguk’s body, and Jeongguk guesses his brother will be taking the opportunity that is being handed to him. 

And it’s good. It’s great. Jeongguk is genuinely happy for Jimin because his brother deserves so much more than he gets but - 

But all the same, later that morning Jeongguk finds himself striking his sword against a metal-reinforced wooden training dummy. He grunts with every strike, refining his steps and his rhythm as he paces through the Mugunghwa sword forms. He’s jealous for no reason. He shouldn’t be. Jeongguk gets so many more opportunities, and it’s only because Jimin is so brilliant that he can keep up - even surpass - Jeongguk so easily. So why is it gnawing at him?

“Fuck,” he grunts, slashing at the dummy’s throat. 

He knows why. It’s his mother’s voice slithering through his mind, telling him awful things, trying to pry him away from his brother. Jeongguk won’t let it happen. He’s stronger than that.

Jeongguk’s quick-step spirals out, and then he lunges at the dummy with a spin, throwing his body into the air and hitting the dummy with such great force that it rolls onto the ground. He breathes deeply, wiping the sweat from his brow before it can freeze in the cold mountain air. He’s about to haul the dummy into an upright position when a throat clears behind him. 

Jeongguk looks over his shoulder to see his betrothed standing awkwardly at the edge of the training courtyard. Seokjin looks as flawlessly handsome as ever, but today Jeongguk’s thoughts are too muddied for him to let his heart flutter. He recalls their last meeting and the things he said and he wonders why Seokjin is here. 

Seokjin is watching his betrothed with bated breath - because he wants to do better. Because Jeongguk was right. Seokjin is marrying into a new sect, so he should start to adapt sooner rather than later. 

But looking at the willful expression on the younger boy’s face, he isn’t sure he’s picked a good time. Jeongguk is clearly in the middle of something - not just training, but some kind of internal war. Seokjin evidently picked the absolute worst time to get to know his future husband.

Yet - he can’t back away now. He’s already called attention to himself and Jeongguk is already looking at him with those unique deep purple eyes, brows lifted in expectation. 

Seokjin shifts. “Nice form,” he says. “Very…powerful.”

Nice . Very natural-sounding. Good job.

Jeongguk straightens up, pulling his training hanbok closed around the neck where it had fallen loose. “Thanks,” he says, somewhat dry. “Are you…here to train too? I can leave.”

“No!” Seokjin says quickly. “I mean, yes! I want to train but you don’t need to leave…”

Jeongguk nods. 

Seokjin clears his throat again. “We could train together. Spar.”

“You don’t have your sword,” Jeongguk points out. 

Well, of course, he doesn’t. Seokjin had intended to ask Jeongguk to take a walk, and he’s not necessarily in the habit of carrying his sword around unless he needs it for a social gathering to be polite or he needs to use it on a nighthunt. He hadn’t expected to find Jeongguk in the training courtyard, so of course, he doesn’t have his sword.

But Seokjin grew up in the ivory snakepit of Jasujeon Tower, so it isn’t beyond his ability to come up with a quick cover. “I was thinking hand-to-hand sparring,” he says smoothly. 

“I wasn’t aware Jasujeon disciples learned contact martial arts,” Jeongguk replies. 

Because we don’t , Seokjin thinks. Anything I know I learned from Hoseok.

Seokjin pastes on a confident expression, sauntering closer to his betrothed. “You don’t know everything, Jeon Jeongguk. And,” he adds. “It’s not as if the Mugunghwa Sect is an expert in hand-to-hand combat.”

Jeongguk snorts. “No, but we do train in it, at least.”

Seokjin tips his head. “Let’s see who has the better training, then,” he challenges, and even as he says it, he knows he’s going to lose. More than lose physically in the spar, he’s also going to lose face in front of his younger betrothed and the prospective humiliation should be enough for him to muster up some kind of excuse to get away.

Instead, Seokjin is drawn forward like a moth to Jeongguk’s quiet radiance. He doesn’t want to back down. He’s okay with being defeated because Jeongguk is not like Seokjin’s brothers - Jeongguk has grace, and he won’t hold his victory over Seokjin’s head. 

Seokjin feels - safe. Safe to fail. How strange.

It doesn’t take long for Jeongguk to have Seokjin sprawling on his back, rolling across cold dirt and struggling to defend himself from the next strike. He’s entranced by the strength Jeongguk has, even as another jab lands a bruise across Seokjin’s ribs. How is the younger boy so strong? 

Jeongguk pulls back, panting. “Do you really want to continue?”

“You haven’t beaten me yet,” Seokjin huffs.

His future husband rolls his eyes, an oddly youthful gesture on someone who clearly tries very hard to be mature. “Because I’ve been going easy on you.”

“Well, don’t go easy on me,” Seokjin says. He drops down into one of the positions Hoseok taught him, bringing his hands up to guard his middle. 

Jeongguk lifts both of his fists. “You asked for it.”

Jeongguk is very fast and even though Seokjin is older, he can’t quite match the younger boy’s intensity or strength. Soon enough, some fancy maneuver has Seokjin on his back again - but this time, Jeongguk’s chest is pressing him down as the younger forces Seokjin’s wrists to the ground.

Seokjin inhales sharply. There is a little mole under Jeongguk’s lip and when he smiles, wide and unrestrained, he looks remarkably like a little rabbit, damp hair curling over his forehead. These observations make Seokjin feel like squirming away. 

“Got you!” Jeongguk laughs. “Do you yield?”

Seokjin nods, swallowing around his dry throat. “I yield.”

The smile on Jeongguk’s face fades at the quietness in Seokjin’s voice. His purple eyes are heavy as he stares down at Seokjin, his hands tightening around Seokjin’s wrists. They stay like that for some time, a moment that stretches and stretches -

And then the lunch bell chimes from the dining hall and they spring apart.

Seokjin can’t bring himself to look directly at Jeongguk for the rest of the day.

It was a mistake, trying to get closer to his future husband. Seokjin is almost twenty and Jeongguk is still years away from his majority. A betrothal is only a promise that can break at any time. The last thing Seokjin needs now is to catch feelings. There will be time later...and it isn't as if his marriage is a love match. It doesn't have to be. It shouldn't be.

He should keep his distance. Hoseok was wrong this time.

“Puppets?”

“Hm?”

Warm fingers nudge beneath Taehyung’s chin, tilting his face up so he can properly see Eunwoo’s inquisitive expression. Without looking away from Eunwoo’s deep, dark eyes, Taehyung carefully sets aside the paints he was using to create his newest fan design. He reaches up, holding Eunwoo’s hand in his own.

“You want puppets,” Eunwoo queries, although it sounds more like a statement.

Taehyung rolls his shoulders. “Maybe it would be useful to have life-size decoys. I don’t know…”

“Taehyung-ah,” Eunwoo says gently, coming to sit beside Taehyung. He squeezes his fingers and Taehyung releases a tense breath. “Tell me. What do you know? What are you planning?”

Taehyung frowns. “It’s not that I know anything. Honestly,” he swears when Eunwoo shoots him a skeptical glance. “My informants haven’t told me anything new. But just because there is nothing new doesn’t mean our current information isn’t enough to make me nervous. The Gom Sect is so large…they can move so quickly.”

“I know.”

“So I just thought…puppets would be a good contingency. Imagine if they worked,” he muses. “Imagine how that could buy culitvators time or provide cover. Imagine switching a prisoner for a puppet…”

Eunwoo strokes down the smooth, uncalloused softness of Taehyung’s palm. Taehyung’s entire body is soft and smooth, unblemished by even a freckle from too much sun exposure. The only thing that has ever marred his skin has been worry and smeared paint. 

“Clever boy,” Eunwoo murmurs.

Taehyung sighs, leaning his weight into Eunwoo’s sturdy chest. “I just have a feeling that things are going to go south soon. Sooner than any of us are prepared for. And our sect…we’re going to be first, I just know it.”

“That’s the worst-case scenario, Taehyung-ah.”

“Don’t brush me off like Byunghyun does,” Taehyung warns.

“I’m not,” Eunwoo assures him. He closes his entire fist over Taehyung’s. “I wouldn’t. But I want to help. And…don’t you think our friends should share your concerns? Shouldn’t Jimin know what he’s inventing puppets for?”

At this, Taehyung bites his lip in consideration. Any time in the past when he has shared his concerns, he hasn’t been taken seriously. This is why he plays the bumbling young master. But Jimin and Jeongguk are different - Jimin especially. He suspects both boys share many of the same concerns Taehyung does. 

“If Jimin can manage to make puppets, I’ll tell them. And I’ll personally pay for a craftsman to produce them,” Taehyung decides, nodding into Eunwoo’s chest. “I don’t know if they will do any good, but…”

“We’ll be prepared,” Eunwoo promises. “If the Gom Sect attacks, we’ll be prepared.”

The assurance is sweet, but they both know it’s an empty promise. With a sect as powerful and ruthless as the Gom Sect, with a leader like Lee Chungwoo at the helm, all the preparation in the world may not make much of a difference. 

But they have to try. Taehyung has to try. 

The missive burns up in Namjoon’s hand with a sting of foreign spiritual energy. He shakes his hand to cool the burn with a hiss, recalling the chilling warning. Dire owl spotted. Proceed with caution. Do not fail . Father is watching .

Namjoon wants to scream. What was Lee Donggun thinking, sending a dire owl here? The youngest heir has always been impulsive, but until now, Namjoon never truly thought Donggun was stupid. Sending over a dire owl is just as good as directly blowing Namjoon’s cover.

And what is Lee Chungwoo watching for, anyway? Namjoon had already done the worst thing he could possibly do - he told the Gom Sect leader about the strange wards in the back hills of the Horangi mountain. It was an exchange of information that should keep Namjoon’s people safe, but the cost had been steep for the rest of the cultivation world. He knows this to be true. Regret keeps him up at night and has him making tinctures to calm his stomach each day. But then he looks at Dohoon’s sweet face and thinks surely Namjoon’s weak morals must be worth it if his little brother is kept safe. 

Lee Donggun had put that all in jeopardy, though. 

Does the Horangi Sect know? Who exactly spotted the owl? This important information was, of course, kept out of the missive. Namjoon must walk this path blindly and alone. 

He scrubs his face with a harsh sigh, then leans his elbows on his worktable, his forehead pressed into his palms. Fortunately, Dohoon is out of the dorm right now, likely tracking down Park Jimin so they might practice archery again together. Jimin is thankfully always ready to indulge Dohoon, so Namjoon has at least one less worry - however tenuous, Namjoon believes the Mugunghwa disciple is fair and honest, and he is comfortable trusting his brother with him, if only in short moments so Namjoon can catch his breath.

The dire owl was spotted, but he doesn’t know by whom. Lee Chungwoo knows about the back hills, but he doesn’t know what the Gom Sect Leader will do with this information, other than collect all the yin metal in the world. Namjoon must proceed with caution and he must not fail - but, aside from finding what the Horangi Sect is hiding, is there another task Namjoon must complete? Or at this point, is he meant to act as any other guest disciple?

Namjoon loathes not knowing. But like the red pine, he must continue to stand, even if he bends to the will of the wind. 

If only it wasn’t so hard.

A brisk knock on the door breaks Namjoon out of his thoughts. He stands up, brushes off his winter hanbok, and hopes that his eyes aren’t rimmed in red from sleeplessness and stress. He answers the door with a neutral expression but relaxes marginally when he sees Jung Hoseok’s bright smile. 

Ah. 

He looks tired , Hoseok observes. He’s holding up a cloth bag of fragrant herbs, a wide smile on his face. Even though some would say this visit is unnecessary, Hoseok has been raised as a commoner before anything else - and favors should always be repaid, even to doctors. 

“Are you busy?” Hoseok asks. “I brought you something.”

Namjoon shakes his head, stepping back from the door. “Come inside. It’s cold.”

Hoseok laughs. “Winter on the mountain is no joke,” he agrees. 

“Is your health well?” Namjoon asks, closing the door. He motions to the waiting teapot on the table, but Hoseok shakes his head, waving the offer away. 

“Do people only visit you when they’re sick?” Hoseok wonders. 

Namjoon falters. 

Shaking off the urge to frown, Hoseok keeps up his cheerful tone. “I’m here with a thank-you gift for helping me recover so quickly.”

Now, Namjoon appears uncertain. His eyes finally fall to the cloth bag Hoseok has brought with him. “You didn’t have to. A doctor should never refuse to heal someone in need.”

“Kim doryeon-nim,” Hoseok chides. “When presented with a gift, you are supposed to say thank you .”

“Thank you, then,” Namjoon says and awkwardly accepts the bag as Hoseok passes it over. His brows lift once he detects the strong fragrance and now it is Hoseok’s turn to feel awkward. “What is it?”

Hoseok rubs the back of his neck. “Ah, well. I’m sure a physician like you already has all sorts of remedies, but I thought…You’ve been looking a little tired lately, so I gathered herbs used to ward off unpleasant dreams. It’s just a folk recipe,” Hoseok explains hastily. “You know. Just a sachet under the pillow. Keeps bugs away, too. It’s not impressive.”

Namjoon smiles faintly. He has dimples hiding in his cheeks. “Thank you,” he says again, this time more sincerely. He motions to the teapot again. “Actually, I don’t know much about folk remedies. Would you like to sit with me and discuss remedies you know?”

Hoseok hadn’t expected this at all. But he accepts the invitation quickly. “I would be honored, Kim doryeon-nim.”

Namjoon grimaces at the address. “You don’t need to be so formal with me. I’m just a doctor.”

Hoseok hums. Namjoon may be a doctor, but he’s also technically a sect leader in his own right. Hoseok has spent too many years under the Jasujeon banner to address someone who is his superior too casually. 

“How about this? I’m eighteen in February.”

“I’m eighteen in September.”

“Then, is Namjoon-ah okay?" Hoseok teases. He means it as a joke and he is about to suggest calling Namjoon by his occupational title, Kim uisa-nim, but Namjoon is smiling again and his dimples render Hoseok speechless. 

It’s the first time in several days that the shadows seem to disappear from Namjoon’s eyes. Although he still looks tired, he doesn’t appear as visibly haggard or stressed. Hoseok doesn’t know what has his new friend on edge, but he doesn’t have the heart to take that smile away. 

“Alright, Hoseok-ah,” Namjoon begins, lifting his lips wryly. “Tell me more about your folk medicine.”

And so Hoseok does.

Chapter Text

On the first day of classes after Jimin has completed his punishment, he does not go to the lecture hall after breakfast. Instead, Jimin finds himself at another library pavilion, this one much more stately than the one he and Yoongi shared. This library is two stories tall and is carved with striking white wooden accents, many of them shaped in cloud and tiger motifs. The location is much deeper in the sect than guest disciples are ever permitted; a senior Horangi disciple had quietly escorted him to this library, and even still is standing outside to take Jimin back after this meeting with the talisman master is finished.

Jimin is not nervous. It’s not in his nature to be prone to fits of anxious anticipation, and the worst that can happen is that the talisman master rejects him as a student, which isn’t so bad a fate all things considered. Mostly, Jimin is still confused as to how this opportunity fell into his lap, since these things simply don’t happen to him. But while he can’t think of anyone who would arrange something like this for the son of a servant, he also doesn’t think it’s a trick. The Horangi Sect is too dignified for something like that, and why would they put in the effort for someone like Jimin?

Still, he hesitates for a few seconds after he enters the warm pavilion. There are dozens of braziers on the library tables and countless candles lit, giving the pavilion a sense of welcome that is sorely lacking in other parts of Horangi Recesses. He shivers off the cold, making sure his boots are free of snow before continuing forward. 

“Hello? Seonsang-nim?” he calls quietly, edging past the first towering shelf, and then another. The senior disciple outside had said the talisman master was in the library, but Jimin can’t see them. He passes several more stacks before he finally nears the middle of the library, and then he calls out again.

This time, he is met with a shuffle of paper and a soft cough. Jimin’s keen ears lead him to a secluded area near the center-most beam of the pavilion and there he finds probably the oldest man he has ever seen. To say the man is wizened would be an understatement, with his shock of white hair pulled into a tight santgu, held in place by a most ornate sangtuwan that signifies his high position within the sect. He is a small man, as if the years have shrunk him, and deep wrinkles line a rather severe face. Jimin immediately has a not-so-good feeling about this meeting, already predicting the disapproval he will surely encounter.

But then the old man looks up and he has golden eyes, like Yoongi, and his face does something very strange - it breaks into a wide smile, the likes of which Jimin never thought he would see on anyone from the Horangi Sect. 

Jimin smiles back by reflex, his shoulders relaxing.

“You must be my prospective student,” the old man says, his voice croaking and creaking like old stairs. He waves at the table before him and the small white cushion that has been left unoccupied. “Sit, sit.”

Jimin bows and does as he’s told, trying to adopt the same elegant posture sect heirs seem to have so easily. He doesn’t manage it very well, but he figures he looks somewhat respectable. “Hello, seonsang-nim. I am Park Jimin.”

“Ah, the troublemaker,” the old man says, but it doesn’t sound disapproving and Jimin isn’t sure what to do with that. Is this old man really from the Horangi Sect? “I’m the talisman master, Min Seojun.”

Another Min. Jimin eyes the sangtuwan and the golden gaze again. Probably from the main Min line, then. An important elder. 

“I received a recommendation to take you as a student,” Min Seojun says, folding his hands over the table, which Jimin now notices is stacked with sheets of paper, some of which are etched with talismans. “Someone seems to think you would do better in a more advanced course and that you may have some talent with talismans. But I don’t take any students that come to me, recommended or not. You must be tested first.”

Jimin nods. “With those?” he asks, reading one of the talismans upside down. It’s not a standard one, but it’s easy enough to decipher. “A dirt-repelling talisman is smart. Is that how all the Horangi uniforms stay so spotless?”

Min Seojun pauses, then his lips twitch into another smile. “You are clever, aren’t you? Well, clever or not, you still must be tested,” he states. The old man pushes the stack to Jimin, along with a brush and inkstone. “Complete these pages. Some talismans will need to be balanced, others will need to be finished. Rote memorization will not be enough to help you, so I hope it’s true that you have some talent with the craft.”

Jimin can easily detect the underlying layer of doubt in the master’s tone, and all it does is make him want to rise to the occasion. Eagerly, Jimin takes the brush in hand and gets to work on the half-finished talismans. There are some he recognizes from the few books in Mugunghwa Pier, but most require elemental balancing and additional sigils so the talismans serve their intended purpose. It takes him only a few seconds to finish some talismans, and several minutes to finish others. All the while, Min Seojun watches him with the same tiger-sharp eye that Yoongi seems to have inherited. 

Jimin works diligently, his mind fully engaged. He does not know how long it takes him to go through the stack, but soon enough, he is finished. Min Seojun slides the completed talismans closer, flipping through them with a gimlet eye. He huffs at a few, shooting him an amused look that Jimin doesn’t know how to interpret. 

“Well,” the old man says at length, keeping out one talisman in particular. “You certainly know what you’re doing. Even some of my senior students would struggle with some of these. But your methodology is unusual. This radical here. How did you come to this?”

Jimin rocks onto his knees so he can look at the talisman more closely. It was a design that he worried over for a while, much longer than any of the other talismans, but he’s confident that he balanced the talisman correctly. 

“The purpose of this talisman is to protect the mind,” Jimin starts, tapping his finger on the directional radical he used to balance the talisman. “I used the eastern sigil for wind to promote focus.”

“Most people would have used a southern sigil for earth to ground the mind,” Seojun suggests.

Jimin wrinkles his nose. “But then, wouldn’t that take away some flexibility? If the mind is too grounded, then the person may have reduced reflexes. If the sigil is being used when a cultivator is fighting, that would be a problem.”

“Indeed,” Seojun says with another smile. “But do you think the eastern sigil is still the right choice if the talisman was intended to protect the mind from nightmares?”

Jimin blinks. “But that would be a different talisman entirely. The western sigil for water would be used, along with the northern sigil for fire to provide adequate protection.”

Min Seojun looks at him appraisingly for several long moments. Jimin fights the urge to squirm. 

“Is this intuitive thinking, or were you taught this?” Seojun asks next.

Jimin makes a face. “There was trial and error. A lot of error…”

“And what reference books?” Seojun prompts.

At this, Jimin tilts his head. “Books?”

“Yes, what books have you learned with? There are several advanced treatises that teach the relationship between the cardinal sigils and the elements, some more accurate than others. Surely, something or someone taught you.”

“Well…there aren’t many talismanic theory books at the library in Mugunghwa Pier. Our sect doesn’t specialize in it, so our scrolls are primers for the basic talismans most cultivators are taught,” Jimin admits. “And the teacher who introduces talismans…I just tried a lot of things until I got the result I wanted. Plus some things just make sense.”

Min Seojun stares. “You learned to balance advanced talismans by yourself as a notice. Through experimentation.”

“Uh…” Jimin can’t tell what the old man is thinking from his tone or his expression. Does it matter how Jimin learned, anyway? Isn’t it enough that he can balance talismans? Even make his own?

“How irresponsible!” the old master says with disapproval.

Jimin frowns. “Irresponsible? I promise I was safe!”

Min Seojun clucks his tongue at him impatiently. “Not you, child. Your Sect leader and teachers. If Mugunghwa Pier doesn’t have resources, they may always ask to borrow scripts from our libraries. Many other sects do. You could have even visited for a short term. It was irresponsible to let you experiment with talismans! Especially at such a young age!”

Jimin bristles at the plain censure. “I have my own pier!” he says defensively. “It’s very safe!”

“But is it safe for you?” the old man asks bluntly, and Jimin falls silent. Min Seojun delivers a great sigh. “Nevermind. I am…impressed by your talent. I will accept you as an auditor for my current course.”

Jimin is amazed, his mouth dropping open and his eyes widening. He sits forward, his voice pitching in excitement. “Really? Won’t I be missing other classes?”

“Your schedule will be arranged,” the old man says reassuringly. Seojun pauses, then snorts inelegantly. “I daresay some of your teachers will be relieved with your absence, or so I’ve heard.”

Jimin laughs. Have teachers been talking about him? Complaining, even? He finds it very funny considering the Horangi Sect’s rule against gossip!

“You will report to your first class after the new year break,” Min Seojun tells him.

“Yes, seongsang-nim,” Jimin says eagerly.  

The talisman master smiles again. “I look forward to seeing what you may accomplish. Young Yoongi was right to recommend you.”

Jimin blinks rapidly, his mind screeching to a halt. “Yoongi-hyung arranged this?”

His new teacher nods, something sly in his expression. “I’m told he argued fervently in your favor.” Min Seojun stands, his joints clicking as he finds his balance with a groan. The teacher pats Jimin’s shoulder as he passes by. “I will see you in class.”

Jimin says goodbye faintly, feeling more than a little dumbfounded. Yoongi had arranged this for him. He can’t believe it. He definitely doesn’t understand it. 

Min Yoongi , Jimin reflects in disbelief. Why did you do this for me ?

Jimin has been excused from the morning classes, but his meeting with his new talisman master hadn’t taken too long. Since he has plenty of time before the mid-day meal, Jimin makes the decision to stroll around Horangi Recesses after a senior disciple has escorted him to the public areas. Jimin has been on the mountain long enough that he knows most of the prettiest places and given the thick layer of snow on the ground, he doesn’t fancy tromping through the woods. This results in aimless wandering that somehow has him circling around the area where the Sect Leader hosts important guests. Jimin is about to round the corner of the grand meeting hall when he hears a familiar voice.

I know that rumbling tone! Jimin halts and presses against the outer wall of the meeting hall, peeking around the side of the building. He still feels funny that Min Yoongi had recommended him for an advanced talisman course, but that won’t stop him from watching the ethereal disciple from afar!

Jimin’s hearing is very good, given his level of cultivation, so it isn’t a strain at all to pick up on Yoongi’s voice as he talks to his brother. What has him balking, however, is the subject of their discussion.

“...There was another ping at the wards in the back hills,” Yoongi says, standing shoulder-to-shoulder with his brother, his hands folded against the small of his broad back. The brothers seem to be stoically observing the snowy landscape of their sect. “Do you know who it is?”

Min Chunghee seems unbothered. “Do you?”

Yoongi seems to hesitate. His head drops down, loose fingers clenching into fists. “Park Jimin. He’s broken wards before.”

From some distance away, Jimin frowns deeply. He wants to be offended by the suspicion Yoongi seems to have for him, but then - well, it’s not like this is the first time Jimin’s character has been called into question. At least Yoongi has some modicum of reason to be suspicious of him. Jimin did break the Horangi wards before, and very easily at that.

But more importantly - Yoongi and Chunghee are talking about the back hills! About the wards! Which means they’re certainly talking about Kim Namjoon, or they will be soon enough. 

Jimin listens closer.

Chunghee laughs lightly. “Those wards were set by our ancestors. Not even Park doryeong would be able to break them. Do not worry about it. The situation is under control. As long as nobody goes inside, the wards will be fine.”

I could break them if I tried, Jimin grumbles internally. 

Yoongi looks at his brother, his feline eyes open a margin wider. “Hyung-nim, do you know who it is?”

Chunghee shakes his head, clearing his throat. “Forget about this matter, Yoongi-yah.”

Yoongi’s expression hardens. Like Jimin, he’s probably skeptical about how much Chunghee knows. Admittedly, Jimin isn’t the deftest mind for political matters, but he also doesn’t doubt Chunghee’s intelligence. Is it possible Chunghee knows what Kim Namjoon is up to, or why the Gom Sect sent the Sonamu Sect for the lectures? If so, why is he hiding it from his brother? Is it that serious? 

Yoongi opens his mouth, as if to press for more answers, but he is interrupted by a young disciple who rushes into the courtyard. The disciple looks nervous and accidentally bows twice during his greeting. 

“Sect Leader!” the disciple says in an urgent tone. “There’s a call for help from Daegu about a lake that’s overrun with water ghouls! It seems the ghouls are pulling victims into the water! Many of the people are afraid to use the lake!”

Water ghouls? Jimin perks up at the thought of a potential hunt. He shifts, waiting to see what Sect Leader Min has to say about this urgent report. To Jimin’s elation, Chunghee’s decision is swift. He indicates that he will organize a party of cultivators to leave for Daegu right away. 

“The people of Daegu are adequate swimmers,” Yoongi comments. “There are rarely drownings. Where would water ghouls come from?”

Jimin is wondering the same thing. In Busan, although there are good swimmers, many people have business on the water and the ocean can be unpredictable. Many people also visit from far away to see the beaches, and that typically leads to more water ghouls than usual. But Daegu doesn’t have the same geography, but the large river and lake cutting through the town shouldn’t be so dangerous for people who have grown up in the village. And water ghouls that are behaving so aggressively are also rather odd - usually, water ghouls wait for victims to come into the water, rather than snatching victims from the shore.

Chunghee pauses in consideration, then grimaces. “We should respond to the issue with haste. Yoongi-yah, will you go with me?”

Yoongi nods, of course. Naturally, Min Yoongi isn’t the type to turn down his duty! 

And neither is Jimin! Without hesitation, Jimin dashes to the lecture hall where classes should be letting out soon. He is impatient as he awaits his cohorts, tapping his boot restlessly in the snow. 

As soon as Jeongguk emerges from the classroom, Jimin is on him, holding his shoulders as he bounces with excitement. Jeongguk tries very unsuccessfully to shake him off, and when he fails, he shoots Jimin a baleful look. “What’s wrong with you? You’re like a rabid grasshopper.”

“Gguk-ah! You’ll never believe it!” Jimin exclaims. “I overheard something good! Or, well, not good exactly because the whole matter is confusing and rather tragic - but it’s a good opportunity!”

Jeongguk glances self-consciously at the disciples who are shamelessly eavesdropping. He nudges Jimin none-too-gently. “Knock it off,” he demands. “Tell me what you’re talking about like a normal person would.”

Jimin groans. “The older you get, the less fun you are.”

Jeongguk rolls his eyes. 

“Anyway,” Jimin sing-songs, twisting around to hook his elbow around his brother’s as he starts towing Jeongguk in the right direction. “Apparently, there’s an issue with water ghouls in Daegu and Sect Leader Min is organizing disciples to help with the nighthunt. Isn’t that great?”

“Water ghouls? In Daegu ?” Jeongguk echoes with a deep frown. He seems to mull over that conundrum for a few minutes before he shoots Jimin an odd look. “Wait, Sect Leader Min is recruiting guest disciples?”

“Well,” Jimin hedges. Chunghee said disciples , but to be fair, he didn’t specify that only Horangi disciples would be recruited!

Jeongguk starts digging his heels into the ground, making it much harder for Jimin to drag him to the entrance gate. His boots leave deep gouges in the snow, but eventually, he comes to a stop, using his greater weight to become an immobile rock not even Jimin’s great cultivation power can move. Jimin resents that his younger brother is continuing to grow, whereas it seems Jimin will be stuck at his current height forever. It’s especially annoying now because Jeongguk is heavier, not to mention way more stubborn!

“Come on! Hurry or they’ll leave without us!” Jimin whines.

“You can’t just invite yourself to another sect’s nighthunt, hyung!” Jeongguk scolds. “That’s not how it works! There are rules-”

“Stupid rules!” Jimin counters loudly. “Who cares about sect territory when there are others who can complete a nighthunt better? We have experience with this type of hunt!”

Jeongguk looks fit to protest more, but Taehyung pops up, his fan fluttering across his face. Eunwoo looms behind him, silently amused. “Oh, I agree, Jimin! Expertise and experience are always much more important!”

Jimin laughs triumphantly. “See! So, will you come with us, Taehyung? Eunwoo?”

Taehyung’s fan speeds up as he shakes his head. “Oh, no! Count me out! I’ll happily wait for you on this safe mountain!”

Jeongguk snorts, but now he seems resigned. He starts toward the entrance gate all by himself and Jimin dogs his heels, waving goodbye to Taehyung, Eunwoo, and the other guest disciples. At Jeongguk’s efficient pace, it doesn’t take long for them to arrive at the entrance gate, where already there are a few Horangi disciples - juniors and seniors - waiting to depart. The white-coated disciples listen solemnly to instructions from Chunghee, while Yoongi stands stoically at his brother’s side. 

Jimin waits for a pause in Chunghee’s speech before he calls out, waving his hand widely above his hand. “Sect Leader! Sect Leader Min!”

Min Chunghee turns to Jimin and Jeongguk with obvious surprise. Yoongi, by contrast, seems even more stone-faced than before. Jimin and Jeongguk bow in greeting, which Chunghee returns with some delay. 

“Jeon doryeon-nim. Park doryeong. You’re here…?”

Jeongguk dips his head deferentially. “Sect Leader Min. We heard about water ghouls in Daegu,” he says formally, slipping easily into his role as the Mugunghwa heir. “Since we don’t have classes this afternoon, we thought we would volunteer our services. We are no strangers to water ghouls in Busan.”

“No need,” Yoongi says coldly - and fast. His immediate rejection seems to be surprising to Chunghee too, since he looks at his brother with wide eyes. 

Jimin’s expression folds into a displeased moue. “Yoongi-hyung, you can’t just reject our offer out of hand like that,” he complains. “Jeongguk and I have been dealing with water ghouls since before we got our swords. Really, we’re experts! Let us go with you.”

“No,” Yoongi replies.

Jimin huffs at him. This obstinate man! 

Chunghee, on the other hand, has a gentle air of amusement. “You may come with us,” he decides. Chunghee’s eyes fall on something behind Jeongguk and his voice raises. “And you as well, Kim doryeon-nim and Jung doryeong. I’m sure your assistance will be appreciated.”

Yoongi side-eyes his brother, and then deliberately looks away. He has the faraway gaze of someone who has completely rejected this plane of existence. Jimin tries to hold back his laughter, pressing his lips together tightly, even as Kim Seokjin and Jung Hoseok come to stand in their little group.

He spares a single glance to Seokjin, thoughtful. He understands why Hoseok would want to tag along because Hoseok is brave and has a clear conscience. Seokjin, on the other hand, seems too uppity to sully himself with a messy nighthunt - and yet, there he stands with his golden sword, listening seriously as Chunghee fills them in on the situation in Daegu. 

It doesn’t escape his notice that Jeongguk can’t seem to drag his eyes away from his betrothed. But instead of the usual moony look, Jeongguk seems conflicted about something. Did something happen between them? His little brother didn’t say anything! Jimin will need to bully the story out of him later!

Cheerily, Jimin falls into line along with the Horangi disciples, his brother, Hoseok, and the Jeonjasu peacock. Jangnan is tucked into his belt, the sword practically vibrating in excitement. It’s been too long since Jimin has been on a nighthunt! 

However, right as the disciples are about the exit the gate behind Min Chunghee, there is a shuffle of quick steps behind them - and another voice calling for the leader of the sect. Jimin blinks in surprise as Kim Namjoon appears, seeming slightly out of breath. Namjoon has a bag slung across his chest, the kind of leather satchel doctors like to carry.

“Sect Leader Min, please allow me to come as well,” Namjoon entreats. 

Chunghee hesitates.

Given what Jimin overheard earlier, he can’t exactly blame the sect leader for his caution. It’s a natural response with the circumstances being what they are. However, even if Kim Namjoon is suspicious, he hasn’t done anything blatantly wrong - and he’s a good doctor, probably the best doctor in the country. And so Jimin feels compelled to speak up.

“Sect Leader Min,” he starts, calling attention to himself. Chunghee lifts his brows expectantly, and Jimin forges on. “It’s beneficial to bring a doctor, isn’t it? While we can easily handle the water ghouls, we may not be able to treat any villagers who are injured.”

Many cultivators have rudimentary medical knowledge, which is just enough to patch up someone until greater help can arrive. Most culvitators, however, don’t bother to learn how to stem severe bleeding or brace a bone, since it’s so much easier to directly transfer spiritual energy and hope that the golden core can take care of the rest. And since civilians don’t possess a golden core, this method clearly wouldn’t work. Who knows what injuries have been left untreated in Daegu?

Chunghee seems to reach a similar conclusion. He gives Namjoon a tight-lipped smile, still affable but also guarded. “Then you may also come with us, Kim doryeon-nim.”

Namjoon bows gratefully. But then -

“Hyung! Wait for me!”

At the much more youthful tone, Jimin turns around entirely, along with many other disciples. Kim Dohoon is scampering toward them with a bow and quiver on his back and a determined expression on his face.

Namjoon greets his younger brother incredulously. “Dohoon? Why are you here? I told you to stay in the room.”

Dohoon shakes his head, less meek than Jimin has ever seen him. “Hyung, I heard about the ghouls. I want to come with you to help!”

Jimin tilts his head in consideration. Dohoon is nearly fourteen, so while he’s young, he isn’t too young to come along. Madam Jeon had been sending Jimin out at a similar age by himself. And Dohoon does have considerable skill with a bow, which may be an advantage since the swords used by other cultivators have a more limited range.

But Namjoon looks adamant as he scolds his sibling. “Dohoon, it will be dangerous! You should stay here.”

Jimin chances a glance at the others, but most of them look more than a little confused by Dohoon’s presence. And he can see that Dohoon is also shrinking in on himself, the confidence he mustered wilting by the second. It makes something protective flare in Jimin, the same type of protective feeling he gets when Jeongguk is feeling low because of his mother’s venomous words.

“Ah, Namjoon,” he cuts in smoothly. “Dohoon is a good archer, so he may be of some use. Besides, I promise I’ll protect him.”

Jimin holds up three fingers in a swearing salute. Dohoon’s smile grows rapidly, his dark dragon eyes suddenly bright. Namjoon hesitates, then looks at Min Chunghee reluctantly. 

“He may come,” Chunghee decides. He glances up at the sky, gauging the position of the sun, then says, “Let’s go quickly. Fighting ghouls in total darkness would be unfavorable. You may ride the sword down the mountain.”

The activity in Daegu is notably dimmer than the last time Jimin had visited the village at the start of the lecture series, even with lights strung in the streets in preparation for the new year celebrations. The people look wan and pale from the persistent cold, but there is a trace of fear that can only be attributed to the unease from the lake situation. When they arrive, Chunghee orders the disciples to gather more information from locals about the situation, and Jimin takes to this assignment with gusto. 

He has always found it easy to talk to the common people. Something about his handsome face must set them at ease, which is what he tells Jeongguk every time his brother jeers at him for his friendliness. Can Jimin help it if the people want to talk to him? He’s certainly getting more information about of the ahjussis, ahjummas, and noonas than anyone else! 

Take Min Yoongi, for example. His cold face has the common people stuttering and his clipped responses make people nervous. Kim Seokjin has a similar effect, though this is due mostly to the awkwardness that Hoseok has to ease with his general joviality. Jimin is smug to notice that Jeongguk is doing much better than other sect heirs, although he ends up blushing when the women fawn over him. 

Jimin, on the other hand, takes the fawning with an affable attitude. He leans in close to one of the noonas telling him all about how hard it is to get water for drinking from the lake, and another giggles as she tells him about how they have been melting snow to make water for several days. 

“How clever!” Jimin praises. “As expected of such beauties!”

“Doryeong, you’re too kind!”

“I’m only being honest!”

Nearby, an ahjumma smiles at him, leaning over to pinch his cheek. “Such a handsome boy! Would you like to have some fruit? To keep your strength up?”

Jimin, never one to turn down a free snack, soon finds himself loaded down with a dozen tangerines. He laughs, trying to tuck them into his pockets. As he does so, he ends up catching Min Yoongi’s eye - and Yoongi is glaring at Jimin fiercely, his face pinched up in disapproval. 

He must be jealous Jimin got the tangerines! Maybe Yoongi likes tangerines very much!

“Ahjumma, am I really the most handsome?” Jimin wonders teasingly. He points to Yoongi and winks. “Have you seen that doreyon-nim over there? He’s truly the most handsome. Give him free fruit!”

One of the noonas sighs. “Oh, is that young Min doreyon-nim? He’s truly incomparable…”

The ahjumma raises her hand to her mouth. “The young heir? Oh! I couldn’t be so brazen…”

Jimin wiggles his brows. “Ah, are you shy? Why should you be shy? You’re a pretty maiden!”

The ahjumma and the noonas all giggle at him as he walks away, loaded down with even more tangerines to pass to Yoongi and the other cultivators. When he’s close enough, he lobs a tangerine at Yoongi’s back - and Yoongi catches it without looking, having heard the fruit whizzing through the air.

Yoongi stops, his shoulders tense, and tosses the fruit back with extra force. Jimin only barely manages to catch it, the pebbled skin on the tangerine smacking into his hand. Yoongi resumes his stiff walk and Jimin pouts behind him. 

“Yoongi-hyung is so mean,” he grumbles to himself. He tears into a tangerine, stuffing half the fruit into his mouth. 

Jeongguk comes along behind him, rapping Jimin on the side of his head. “Focus,” he chides. “What are you even going to do with all that fruit?”

Jimin rolls his eyes. “I’m going to eat it ,” he says. “And I am focusing! I already learned a lot about what the village is dealing with. They need access to clean water. Winter won’t last forever.”

“Once the ghouls are gone, the problem is fixed,” Jeongguk says. He plucks a few tangerines for himself. 

Jimin makes a face. “But these ghouls seem so weird…Ah, ahjussi!” he calls, trotting over to an older man shuffling along the street between two inns. “Could you spare us a moment? Here, have a few tangerines…”

As Jimin expected, the older man has much to say about the situation. Elderly commoners are always so wise - they’ve seen so much before, and they can more easily identify what is unusual. Jimin always tries to bow to this wisdom on nighthunts, and it usually pays off. 

“Some people have been eaten!” the old man exclaims when Jimin prods him about who has gone missing and when.

“Eaten?” Jeongguk echoes faintly. 

“Have you seen what ate these people?” Jimin prompts, unshaken. 

The old man shakes his head grimly. “Not personally. But my brother-in-law is a fisherman and one of his day workers were pulled into the water and devoured! They couldn’t recover a body and none have washed onto shore!”

Jimin thanks the old man, then shoots Jeongguk a disturbed look. In their experience, water ghouls drown victims - they don’t have a taste for human flesh. Water ghouls are, in all honestly, usually lower-level monsters that can be taken care of by skilled juniors, and strong swimmers can usually survive an attack. These ghouls sound positively vicious compared to what Jimin knows. 

Jeongguk and Jimin track down Min Chunghee, who has been speaking with the village head about the incidents with the water ghouls. Near him, Yoongi is a close shadow who only blinks at Jimin’s fast approach. Perhaps sensing the urgency, Chunghee ends his conversation with the village elder and turns to the Mugunghwa disciples expectantly. 

“These water ghouls are odd,” Jeongguk says, frowning deeply. 

“Water ghouls usually don’t eat people, but these apparently do,” Jimin adds, and the Mins nod simultaneously. Jimin rubs at his bottom lip, sighing. “Sometimes, talking to villagers can make things more complicated. Are we dealing with ordinary water ghouls, or something more sinister?”

Something in Chunghee’s expression closes off, which piques Jimin’s interest, but Yoongi easily distracts him when he says, “We won’t know without more evidence. We should start the hunt now.”

Delighted by Yoongi’s engagement, Jimin perks up. “Oh, I know. Let’s make a bet. I bet we’re thinking the same thing! The villagers are overexaggerating!”

“Boring,” Yoongi drolls, turning deftly away and striding off without another look back. Chunghee smiles faintly but catches up quickly. 

“Hyung!” Jeongguk hisses. “I can’t believe you said something so thoughtless in front of the Sect Leader!”

Jimin rolls his eyes. “If it bothered Min Chunghee, he would certainly say something.”

“Or not,” Jeongguk grouses. “Other people have manners, you know. Maybe you should try them.”

“I have manners!” 

“Yes,” Jeongguk agrees. “Barnyard manners. Who raised you?”

Jimin jumps on his brother, wrangling Jeongguk into a headlock until Chunghee finally calls for the disciples to board the boats that have been arranged for the hunt. 

It takes only a few minutes of shuffling to get everyone arranged. Three boats are dedicated to the Horangi disciples, and Chunghee leads the boats with Namjoon and Dohoon on deck, perhaps to keep a close eye on the Sonamu disciples. Jimin and Jeongguk naturally pair up, and Hoseok rides with Seokjin. The odd man out is Yoongi, who seems perfectly content to have a boat to himself. They stick talismans to the back of the boat to gently propel the boats forward so there is no need for a paddler. And then they set out.

The lake itself looks placid, a mirror of the sky amid a snowy landscape in the valley of the mountain. But it doesn’t take Jimin very long to sense something - odd. Some ways from the shoreline, the water starts to appear murky and there is a distinct tinge of yin energy in the air.

“Keep your eyes open,” he says to Jeongguk. Jeongguk takes up his sword, eyes alert, and Jimin scans their surroundings. The boats continue to glide forward, even as a mysterious mist rises over the water. They are nearing the middle of the lake, and suddenly the smoothness of the lake surface is unsettling rather than peaceful. Jimin frowns as he spies the bottoms of the boats, and then he sketches out a quick talisman while calling out. “Yoongi-hyung!”

Yoongi looks over just in time for Jimin’s talisman to slam into the side of his boat. Yoongi’s eyes widen and he jumps up, easily landing in Jimin’s boat while his old boat capsizes. 

“You-” Yoongi’s voice cuts off as he spots the water ghoul clinging to the underside of his boat. Without hesitation, Yoongi sends out his silvery sword to pierce through the ghoul, burning it up with a flare of spiritual energy. 

Jimin laughs softly as Yoongi recalls his sword, even as Jeongguk curls his lip. “Ah, Yoongi-hyung, it wasn’t a prank, see? I just didn’t want to alert the ghoul! I think they are very clever to hide under the boat…”

“Ridiculous,” Yoongi mutters. 

Jimin blows a raspberry at him. Honestly, Yoongi could do with a little more good humor! 

“Hyung,” Jeongguk says. He’s leaning over the side of their boat, squinting at the charred remains of the water ghoul on the other boat. “I’ve never seen water ghouls like that. It’s so…warped.”

Jimin twists his lips, nodding. Jeongguk is right. Water ghouls are, at best, waterlogged and covered in the loam of the water, many of them tinted deep blue. This ghoul, on the other hand, has only a vaguely humanoid shape and is a deep color, almost black. Yin energy has completely saturated the ghoul. 

“Good eye, Gguk-ah,” Jimin says, clapping his brother on the back. 

“They’re tainted,” Seokjin calls out stiffly. 

“By what?” Hoseok wonders. “More resentment? Have they been lurking for too long?”

Maybe , Jimin thinks. But he can’t help but recall that Horangi disciple at the start of the lectures…

Chunghee looks very disturbed as he observes the scene. “How did you know the ghoul was hiding?” he asks. 

“Weight displacement,” Jimin answers promptly. “Yoongi-hyung was the only passenger in his boat, but the bottom of his boat was covered by more water than boats with multiple passengers. I guessed maybe a ghoul was dragging his boat down.”

“Very clever,” Chunghee praises faintly.

Jimin preens, throwing Yoongi a triumphant look that is entirely ignored. Instead, Yoongi’s gaze is riveted on the water, his golden eyes flickering as if following something. 

“Incoming,” Yoongi says only a moment before a half dozen water ghouls lurch into the boats, clamping onto the sides to climb inside. 

Jimin calls out Jangnan, sending the sword around the perimeter of their boat while Jeongguk hacks at another and Yoongi covers a wider distance. Out of the corner of his eye, he notices that Kim Seokjin is surprisingly competent with his sword, complimenting Hoseok’s skills well; meanwhile, Namjoon clutches his sheathed sword and his brother close while Chunghee takes care of the ghouls. 

When the ghouls are taken care of, the water is still and silent again, even though the murkiness and the fog persist. Slowly, the boats move steadily to the middle of the lake, which is where the largest pool of yin energy seems to sit. 

“What is your sword called?” Yoongi asks quietly. 

Jeongguk groans. “Here we go…”

Jimin is pleasantly surprised that Yoongi is initiating the conversation for only a moment. Then he grins broadly and proudly says, “This is Jangnan!”

Yoongi stiffens. “Joke? The sword has a spirit. Do not be disrespectful.”

Jimin laughs, turning his sword so Yoongi can see Jangnan inscribed on the blade. “No, see, Jangnan is the name of my sword! It’s not a joke! I like the name! Don’t you think it suits me well?”

Yoongi’s eye twitches. 

Jimin tilts his head back, fondly recalling the moment when he was finally granted a sword of his own. “Let me tell you, when I was first gifted my sword, I thought of dozens of names but none of them were right! So I asked Sect Leader Jeon to name my sword and he did! I think it’s good.”

“Is it?” Jeongguk mutters. He’s never seen the good humor in Jangnan’s name the same way Jimin has, but then, Jeongguk named his sword golden hibiscus , so he really has no room to judge. 

“Anyway, what’s your sword called?” Jimin asks. 

“Gwangtaeg,” Yoongi answers shortly. 

“How fitting,” Jimin muses. It’s a good name for such a bright, silvery sword, especially when the sword wielder is himself someone with a flawless luster. 

“Everyone,” Chunghee calls out. “Something is happening. Be careful.”

Indeed, they have reached the middle of the lake now, and the water is entirely black, churning with malicious energy. Jimin peers at the dark water curiously, sensing the overwhelming yin energy. These are no simple water ghouls - not only do water ghouls seldom travel in packs larger than three, but water ghouls also have no way of attaining this much resentful energy, let alone enough of it to alter the composition of the water. What on Earth…?

Abruptly, their boat rocks with a sudden force and tilts precariously to one side. Years of instinct have Jimin jumping forward to land on the nearest boat with Chunghee, Namjoon, and Dohoon. Yoongi lands neatly beside him, unperturbed by the dwindling situation, while Jeongguk manages to land on Seokjin and Hoseok’s boat. Jimin turns just in time to see a cluster of a dozen or so water ghouls break his former boat into pieces. 

After that, the attacks from the water ghouls are fierce, and cultivators respond by slicing away at the ghouls or using talismans to blast ghouls away. Min Chunghee uses his long flute to play a deeply evocative song, which seems to leech away some of the yin energy in the water ghouls who attack their boats. Yoongi, on the other hand, does not turn to musical cultivation - not that he needs to, with his shining silver blade zipping along the surface of the water to spear through ghouls - one-two-three -

“Ah!”

Jimin spins around at the sound of his brother’s shout, ichor dripping off Jangnan. Jeongguk is crouched down in his boat, clutching at his leg with his face twisted in pain, while Seokjin looks on in abject horror and Hoseok grimly defends them. 

Anger surges through him. “Kim Seokjin!” he shouts. “What did you do?”

Seokjin’s fair face blanches. He shakes his head.

Jeongguk looks at Jimin across the water. “Don’t worry about me! It’s just an accident! Hyung, watch your back!”

Jimin flips his sword, the blade facing backward, and blindly stabs through the water ghoul Jeongguk warned him about. His instinct to protect his brother has him bracing to jump to the next boat, but before he can, he sees Namjoon mount his sword with his bag of medical supplies. Jimin waits just long enough to confirm that Namjoon is giving Jeongguk medical aid before he turns back to the fight against the water ghouls. This time, Jimin keeps Dohoon at his back - he did promise to protect the boy, after all, and it’s the least he can do when Namjoon has left his brother to give Jeongguk aid. Bites from ghouls must be treated quickly, and it’s an extraordinary show of trust that Namjoon has left Dohoon in such a precarious nighthunt. 

Several countless minutes pass like this, with Jimin and Yoongi twisting around each other in the boat to fight off dozens of ghouls, all while Chunghee continues to weave magic with his flute. Jimin’s focus is split between guarding Dohoon, skewering the next ghoul, and monitoring Jeongguk’s boat in case assistance is needed. 

And through all of that, somehow a thought breaks through - a morsel of information he must have read years ago about rare water ghouls affected by large amounts of yin energy. So rare is this phenomenon that it’s only happened in Busan once hundreds of years ago but - it can only be -

“Waterborne Abyss!” Jimin shouts. “It’s a Waterborne Abyss! We can’t fight it!”

Yoongi halts, his feline eyes flickering to the mass of dark energy in the water that has begun to swirl into a vortex. Chunghee stops too, his finger position on his flute faltering as he looks to Jimin, face pale.

“Waterborne Abyss…” Chunghee raises his voice with authority. “Ride the sword! Someone, call the elders from the mountain! We need to seal off the lake!”

The Horangi disciples comply immediately, a few of them zipping off to Horangi Recesses with great haste, while a few of the senior disciples stand on their swords and summon musical instruments. Chunghee flies high into the air and leads these disciples in a powerful song that echoes over the lake and causes the Waterborne Abyss to thrash with violent waves. Yoongi hovers near his brother, watchful and on guard.

Meanwhile, Seokjin is helping Namjoon support Jeongguk, who is too weakened to fly on his own sword. Hoseok maintains a ready guard, urging their formation closer to shore. 

Jimin looks at Dohoon and his bow. No sword. Why no sword? Doesn’t matter right now.

“Dohoon, ride with me,” he says, urging Dohoon to stand on Jangnan. 

But Dohoon does not respond. In fact, his eyes have turned white and his mouth has dropped open, his head turning to the spiking resentful energy that is dragging their boat into the center of the abyss. Jimin is chilled by the trance Dohoon is in, but he manages to get Dohoon on Jangan anyway. Only, right as Dohoon has found his balance, something ice-cold wraps around Jimin’s ankle and pulls -

Jimin only has a split second to send a firm command to Jangnan’s spirit to keep Dohoon safe at all costs before he is tugged into the water. Bitter, foul water rushes up Jimin’s nose and into his mouth as the Waterborne Abyss drags him undertow -

The absence of sound is the most unsettling. Beyond the shocking cold, beyond the suffocating weight of the water, before the pitch darkness, it is the void of sound that sends a spike of panic spirally through Jimin’s body. Being underwater usually means an initial rush of noise, followed by a gentle muteness that has always been welcoming. But this - the lack of noise is unnatural. Or perhaps, beyond natural. 

If yang energy is everything hope and light, then yin energy is everything dark and desolate. As Jimin is pulled deeper into the center of the Waterborne Abyss, he can’t help but choke on the water, a sense of hopelessness permeating his optimistic mind. 

He’s fighting against the Abyss. Why should he bother fighting? His limbs are tired. It would be easier to just let it happen. He’ll never beat the void of hungry, soulless energy by himself…

Bubbles of air escape his mouth one by one, his lungs tight and clogged as his body instinctively continues to fight against drowning. The crushing pain in his head is enough to shock Jimin out of the stupor he’d fallen into, and he reaches for his golden core with fierce desperation. For a moment, the yang energy alights through him with a vibrant warmth - but the energy barely passes through his meridians before it shrinks back, suppressed by the overwhelming presence of yin energy in the heart of the Waterborne Abyss. 

Not yet , Jimin pleads. He reaches deep, summoning the yang energy he has spent years cultivating, and tries to sketch out a talisman - any talisman - that might be of some use. But it’s so hard. It’s like trying to write in loose mud. Every stroke is swallowed by the darkness, each call of his energy obscured by overwhelming resentment that clings and claws at him.

The last of Jimin’s air leaves his lungs. He is a strong swimmer and he can hold his breath for a long time, but Jimin was not prepared for this - he lost too much breath during the first precious, panicked seconds after being pulled underwater. 

I can’t breathe . The realization is almost dumbfounding. But of all the ways Jimin thought his life would end, he always had a feeling it would be on a nighthunt, just like his parents. Perhaps this is okay, then. He did his duty…

The yin energy, perhaps sensing his openness, surges with a new fury. It forces itself into his mouth, trying to suffuse through his body, and Jimin is helpless to fight it. Yin energy burns against the yang energy in his meridians, the pain so blindingly sharp that Jimin thrashes with the last of his energy -

But the yin energy doesn’t feel - it’s not - 

Jimin’s vision dims.

The last thing he sees is a murky white shape, maybe a light, floating before him. 

Jimin comes to with a great, chest-wracking cough. His lungs hurt and his sinuses burn something fierce, but his body is greedy for air and works hard to inhale even as he is still sputtering dark water out of his mouth. Along with air, however, comes the renewal of his senses - sight and touch and sound all in a spectacular, overwhelming deluge.

There is wind whipping against his cheeks. A sense of movement. Something hard and warm wrapped around his elbow, causing his weight to pull painfully on his shoulder as he hangs limply from the grip of something. Below, a rush of blue. Ahead, shouts of his name and loud cries of relief.

Jimin coughs, finally dispelling the last of the water from his lungs, and cranes his head around to assess his position. 

A wide, pale hand with elegant fingers is gripping him tightly around the elbow. Attached to the hand is soaked white fabric, and just beyond that, his line of sight catches on a gleaming silver sword, somehow familiar in his muddled mind. His eyes travel higher, snagging on a strong bicep, wide shoulders, a pair of petal lips pressed into a thin line, and bright golden eyes. 

Yoongi. Yoongi?

Oh. 

Yoongi saved him from the Waterborne Abyss, if his waterlogged appearance is any clue. And now Yoongi is flying them both to shore, somehow still poised and powerful even though it must be very hard to carry another grown person after diving straight into a pure well of yin energy. Jimin’s golden core is still shrunken into itself, guarded and spinning with a rapid fury, but ultimately reluctant to stretch through his meridians as it usually would. 

Yoongi is very strong. A truly gifted cultivator. 

Jimin shivers as the shore nears, Yoongi rapidly descending to a thankfully soft landing. Jimin ends up on his back while Yoongi gingerly steps off his sword, looking like a very angry kitten with his feline eyes and black hair plastered against the sides of his face. 

“Couldn’t you have held me closer?” Jimin complains hoarsely, flopping his arms on either side of his body. He aches .

Yoongi’s golden eyes narrow. “I don’t like touching strangers.”

“Hyung!” Jimin manages to whine. “How are we strangers? We’ve spent so much time together, and we just survived an encounter with a rare ghoul and -”

“Are you seriously complaining after he saved your life?” Jeongguk snaps, falling to his knees beside Jimin’s prone form. He checks Jimin over, roughly patting at his torso and limbs, twisting his head from side to side, a massive scowl on his face the whole while. He doesn’t seem to notice that kneeling is aggravating the injury he sustained earlier. Jeongguk looks at Yoongi with a slightly less furious expression, bowing deeply. “Thank you for rescuing my hyung.”

Yoongi dips his head, taking several steps back as more people rush toward Jimin. 

“Move aside, please,” Namjoon’s calm voice urges, and Jeongguk scoots just far enough away to give the doctor room. He prods at Jimin, taking his pulse and checking his eyes, with a deep sense of composure.

“I’m fine,” Jimin tires.

Jeongguk gently raps the side of his head. “Shut up and let the doctor treat you.”

Jimin heaves a great sigh, but allows Namjoon to examine him until he’s satisfied that Jimin won’t keel over. Jimin is gratified to see Dohoon is safe and seemingly recovered from his earlier episode, the younger boy digging through Namjoon’s medicine bag to pull out various items and herbs at Namjoon’s request. It’s only when Dohoon produces an array of silver needles that Jimin feels some trepidation.

Namjoon takes Jimin’s arm, turning his wrist over to access a meridian point. Foreign energy slips through Jimin’s veins and Namjoon grumbles, reaching for one of the needles Dohoon is dutifully holding. 

“Hey, wait,” Jimin protests, watching with wide eyes as Namjoon positions the needle above Jimin’s inner wrist. “I said I’m fine!”

Namjoon’s hold on him becomes more firm when Jimin tries to wiggle away. “Yin energy is lingering in your meridians,” he says solemnly. “This will clear it.”

“But I hate needles!” Jimin wails. 

“Are you three?” Jeongguk demands from the vicinity of his head. He has shifted to hold Jimin’s shoulders down so Namjoon can work. “Stop squirming!”

“No!” Jimin shouts, but his struggles are futile. Thankfully, only a few needles need to be placed along his arms and in the center of his chest through his wet clothing. Jimin suffers through it with the dignity he has left. 

He feels Yoongi’s critical stare on him the entire time. How humiliating! First to make such a rookie mistake by being pulled into the Waterborne Abyss, then needing to be rescued like a damsel in distress, and now this! Jimin has a thick face, but even this is pushing the limits of his shamelessness! 

As much as he struggles against the treatment, Namjoon is incredibly skilled. It doesn’t take very long at all for the treatment to chase away the cold yin energy that had been clinging to his meridians. When it is cleared, Jimin’s golden core churns faster, the familiar warmth of yang energy heating him gently from the inside. 

All the while, there is activity around him as Horangi senior disciples and elders arrive at the lake. Jimin can overhear them talking about how they will purify the lake, a process that could take weeks or months since it’s impossible to simply exorcise the Waterborne Abyss. To take care of such an advanced concentration of resentment and yin energy, the Abyss will first need to be sealed and then methodically cleansed. A Waterborne Abyss is simply too unwieldy to remove from the lake - and the only other option is to completely drain the lake to sap the strength from the Abyss before eliminating it. Neither option is good. Either way, the citizens of Daegu will have to restrict water usage for the foreseeable future or find another source of water. At least by sealing the Abyss first, the Horangi Sect may be able to section off a portion of the lake that is untouched by yin energy.

Jimin is still dissatisfied. If only there was a faster way…

“You’re okay, right?” Jeongguk checks after Namjoon and Dohoon have excused themselves from the makeshift triage area. Jeongguk helps Jimin sit up, a deep furrow of worry between his brows. 

“The good doctor said I’m fine,” Jimin says easily. He feels mostly okay. Nothing is wrong with him that a good meal and twelve hours of sleep won’t cure. 

“You almost died, hyung…”

Jimin softens, clicking his tongue. He ruffles Jeongguk’s hair, shooting a pointed glance at Kim Seokjin who is huddled with Hoseok as far away from the lake as possible. “And what about you, hm? You got hurt too.”

Jeongguk turns red, his frown deepening. “S-shut up. We’re not talking about me .”

“Maybe we should be!”

“Hyung! Would you be serious for once-”

A throat clears delicately and both boys look to Min Chunghee, who bows to them apologetically. “I came to extend my sincerest apologies,” the Horangi Sect Leader says with obvious grief. “Had I known how dangerous the situation was, I would never have put you in such a position. It’s fortunate that you both are alright. You do your sect a great service with your bravery and selflessness, both of you.”

In the face of such sincere words, neither Jimin nor Jeongguk knows how to respond. They scramble to stand up, bowing deeply at the sect leader with mumbled excuses. 

“It’s our fault for inviting ourselves on your sect’s nighthunt,” Jeongguk says, and Jimin nods rapidly, his wet hair flopping against his back. 

Chunghee has the dignity and good grace to let the matter rest. He bows again and turns toward the elders who are discussing the plan for the Waterborne Abyss, but he stops when Jimin calls for him. 

“Isn’t it strange, Sect Leader?” Jimin asks, and Chunghee lifts a questing brow. Jimin steps forward, dropping his voice to speak in an undertone. “The energy in Daegu has been strong for centuries. There is pure yang energy in Horangi Recesses that has kept Daegu clean and thriving, but now, a Waterborne Abyss has developed. How is that possible in such a purified environment, when it takes years of resentment to create such a powerful ghoul?”

Jimin lets his gaze drift pointedly to the northern edge of the lake, where a river from the northwest feeds into the body of water. The Waterborne Abyss had to come from somewhere, and Jimin can only think of one place - one sect - that would let such a foul thing fester. 

But he doesn’t speak the name of the sect aloud. Not after the dire owl was spotted not so long ago. 

Instead, he says, “And then there was the disciple with the snatched spirit…”

Min Chunghee straightens, his pleasant expression freezing into place. “We are looking into that, doreyong. Don’t concern yourself with it.”

Jimin opens his mouth to protest, but Jeongguk tugs on his sleeve harshly to silence him. And Yoongi, who had been standing some distance away the entire time, now turns to look directly at Jimin with sharp eyes. Jimin stills, because it isn’t often that Yoongi makes such direct eye contact. But when Yoongi shakes his head slowly, the message is clear. 

Don’t talk about it anymore. Not here . 

Jimin isn’t happy about it - and his curiosity is still chomping at the bit - but he falls quiet. For now.

Min Chunghee and the Horangi elders decide that the disciples - Jimin especially - are too weak to fly up the mountain that night, let alone walk up those thousands of stairs. And so, it is in short order that rooms at a nearby inn are arranged for the disciples who participated in the nighthunt. After resting in Daegu for the night, the disciples will return to Horangi Recesses in the morning. 

Jimin is glad for the rest, but mostly, he is thrilled to finally eat food flavored with something other than medicinal herbs. He sits in the inn restaurant after changing into a clean hanbok and gleefully slathers his generous portion of food in chili oil and vinegar. Somehow, Yoongi has ended up sharing a table with Jimin, and he stares at Jimin’s food habits with the most nonplussed expression he has ever deigned to make.

“Do you want some?” Jimin asks, offering Yoongi the pot of chili oil.

In response, Yoongi silently slides his food closer to himself and further away from the chili oil.

Jimin laughs and digs into his food. “More for me then!”

Happily, Jimin plows through his sizeable portion of spicy chicken, hot noodles, and grilled pork belly while Yoongi slowly picks through a moderate collection of rice, tofu stew, and stir-fried beansprouts. With his mouth contentedly occupied by food, this is probably the longest Jimin has been in Yoongi’s presence without the insatiable need to talk. But of course, after a day like this, that only lasts for so long. 

Jimin polishes off one dish, then leans over the table, licking his lips clean of any spicy sauce. “Yoongi-hyung, has there been any progress in the investigation about the disciple with the snatched spirit? Do you know what happened? Has your brother told you about it?”

Yoongi carefully chews his food, then places his chopsticks to the side. He appears to be finished eating, except for his tea. “No,” he answers.

Jimin waits for more, for any type of clarification, but none comes. He huffs at his friend. “ No , what? No, there hasn’t been any news in the investigation? No, you don’t know what happened? No, your brother hasn’t told you about it? Hyung.”

Yoongi sips his tea. It feels like a pointed silence, so Jimin takes that to mean that the answer to all of his questions is no . Which is - well, not ideal, is it? Either there truly is no progress in the investigation, or Min Chunghee is keeping a lot of secrets from his brother. Maybe a bit of both. It’s not satisfying at all. 

“I find it so strange,” Jimin muses, scooping up another bite of food. “Something is being hidden, but why? Don’t you think it’s odd? All these things happening in Daegu?”

Yoongi’s golden gaze flickers. 

Jimin snaps his fingers. “Ah! I knew it! You agree! Oh, this must not be a trivial matter at all!”

“Jimin,” Yoongi warns. 

“I’m not being nosy,” Jimin protests. “This is a big issue.”

“Leaders will take care of it.”

Jimin lifts both of his brows in surprise. “Are you really satisfied with that? Just letting someone else take care of it? Honestly, I wouldn’t have expected that from you. I have to say, I’m a little disappointed.”

“There is order for a reason,” Yoongi counters coolly. “Elders have wisdom that we do not.”

Jimin snorts. “Sure, they have wisdom sometimes. But elders also lose sight of the important things too easily, caught up in things that don’t matter. Take this situation,” he says. “Even though nobody is confirming anything, we all know who is to blame, don’t we? Yet no clan elders or Sect Leaders are stepping up to do anything about it. I’d bet anything that poor disciple is also a victim of the Go-”

“Do not invite trouble with speculation,” Yoongi says, cutting Jimin off. 

“What speculation? We have evidence sitting in that lake!”

Yoongi clenches his jaw.

Jimin sighs, reaching for the pot of Emperor’s Smile he had ordered to go along with his dinner. He shakes his head in disappointment, pulling the cork off the pot. “Yoongi-hyung, let me tell you. Being so rigid about things is really impractical. What will you do if - Hey!”

Yoongi has smoothly snatched away his pot of alcohol, dropping it on the tray of a passing waiter. Jimin gapes at him, making an aborted movement to go after the Emperor’s Smile he still hasn’t had the pleasure of drinking. 

“Yoongi-hyung!” he complains loudly. “I spent money on that! A lot of money! Good wine isn’t cheap, you know!”

Yoongi collects his teacup, taking a languid sip. “You are not an adult. Do not drink alcohol.”

Jimin slaps his hand on the table. He really can’t understand the audacity of this friend of his! “I can drink if I want! I drink all the time at Mugunghwa Pier and you really won’t find a disciple with better tolerance than me! We aren’t in Horangi Recesses right now! It’s not against the rules.”

“Mm.”

“Yoongi-hyung!”

Chapter Text

Yoongi stands in front of the window, uncaring of the frigid night air as he stares at the lake in the not-too-far distance. Cultivators from his sect have been assigned to monitor the lake continuously until the Waterborne Abyss can be properly suppressed and eliminated, but this is a cold comfort after the day’s events. The Waterborne Abyss was strong and unpredictable. Jimin had almost -

Yoongi inhales deeply, counts to ten, then slowly releases his breath. He pushes the memories of Jimin’s limp body and pale face out of his mind, replacing them with the much more recent image of Jimin whining at him over their shared dinner, his eyes sparkling with good humor that never seems to fade. 

Outside, Daegu is not blanketed with snow the same way the mountain peaks of Horangi Recesses are. But it’s still very cold, so Yoongi closes the window and readies himself for bed. It’s later than he would usually go to sleep, but there have been extenuating circumstances. 

Chunghee has given Yoongi welcome silence since they came to their room at the inn, perhaps lost in his own thoughts. Yoongi imagines it must be overwhelming to be a young sect leader dealing with such a rare, unprecedented challenge. Certainly, none of their ancestors had been faced with such a time of unrest - either with malicious ghouls or with politics. 

Yoongi folds down the tuck silk duvet and climbs into bed, straightening the sleeves of his underclothes neatly. He unties the manggeon from around his forehead, placing the sign of his restraint carefully to one side. His forehead feels cool and damp after wearing the manggeon all day. He should have removed it to properly dry off after diving in after Jimin but -

Jimin is okay. Nobody was severely injured. The Waterborne Abyss will be handled. 

(Yoongi had expected Jimin to pop right back to the surface, surely cocky about his strong swimming abilities and ready to brag as he always does. But Jimin hadn’t surfaced, even as the Abyss churned with ink-black water and as yin energy swelled with a sense of victory. Jimin had stayed underwater and his brother had called for him and Yoongi had not hesitated, ignoring his own brother to go after Jimin.

The water had been so cold, so much colder than the Cold Pond or ice or anything else Yoongi had ever encountered. More than a lack of heat was an absence of any temperature at all. And the silence, so disorienting. Yoongi had immediately lost his sense of direction, and it was only by the virtue of his golden core spinning with stubborn aggression that he had maintained his focus. 

Jimin, though, had been floating listlessly down the bank of the river, a dim spot of brightness amid the dark water. When Yoongi grabbed onto him, he vowed that he would not let go - even at the risk of himself.)

Jimin is okay. But others might not be. 

“What are you thinking about?” Chunghee queries, laying down in his bed across the room.

“The Waterborne Abyss,” Yoongi answers. He leans over, blowing out the candle near his bed. He does not lie down. Instead, he grips the duvet and twists the fabric around his fingers. 

“Of course..."

“What Jimin said isn’t unreasonable. There have been strange incidents,” Yoongi says. “Is there truly a connection between them?”

Chunghee sighs. “Yoongi-yah…”

“You should not hide this from me. I am here to share your burden.”

“You are still a child. Not all burdens can be shared.”

“Hyung-nim,” Yoongi breathes through a flash of irritation. “I will be twenty in only a few months. What is the difference between telling me now and telling me then?”

Chunghee shifts on his bed, sitting up to peer at Yoongi across the inn room. The stress on his face is obvious, and all the more disarming because of how well he masks his emotions with a gentle smile during the day. Chunghee looks older than his modest twenty-four years. 

“I have an irrational fear,” Chunghee admits. “If I speak, what if I manifest my suspicions into existence?”

“It is much worse if you do not speak,” Yoongi counters. “Dangers cannot long be hidden. Neither can the truth.”

Chunghee scrubs his hands over his face tiredly. “I have been hoping that I was wrong but…If my assumption is right…” he sighs heavily. “Even if I’m not wrong, there is nothing we can do the change the way the wind blows. We may not even be able to change the outcome.”

Yoongi thinks about Jimin’s speculations. For all that Jimin is loudmouthed, brash, and unrepentantly shameless, he’s also sharply observant - and willing to voice what others will hesitate to say out loud. 

“Is it the Gom Sect?” he whispers. “Have they been doing these things? The disciple? The Waterborne Abyss?”

Chunghee looks reluctant. “I don’t want you to worry about these things yet…”

“Hyung-nim,” Yoongi says firmly. 

“Kim Byunghyun of the Kkachi Sect has told me many things about the heinous acts of the Gom Sect. Many smaller sects have been annexed and entire villages have gone missing. Byunghun’s information is compelling,” Chunghee admits, his expression twisting with unease. “But all of this seems to foreshadow war, and I fear what will become of us if that happens. I would prefer not to make waves unnecessarily, so I am reluctant to accuse the Gom Sect of anything…”

“Even when the evidence is clear,” Yoongi mutters. 

“I have to keep our sect safe, Yoongi-yah.”

Yoongi clenches his jaw. “Is our safety that important compared to the peace of the world?”

Chunghee inhales sharply. 

Yoongi lays down, squeezing his eyes closed. He turns onto his side, his back to his brother as he pulls the duvet over his shoulders. “Goodnight, hyung-nim.”

“You’re so reckless!” Jeongguk scolds from his bed. He sorely wants to pace around and pull at his hair - and smack his brother - but Kim Namjoon had warned him to stay off his leg for the night and Jeongguk would listen to physician advice. 

Jimin is notably not listening to Namjoon’s advice to rest, too busy sprawled across the table in the center of the room, frowning down at the scribbles he’s making. He rolls his eyes at Jeongguk and mocks his tone. “You’re so reckless. Blah, blah…”

Jeongguk wastes no time throwing the nearest object at his brother, which happens to be his boot. The shoe smacks into Jimin’s shoulder with a satisfying sound. “What were you thinking, sending your sword away without being on it? Aren’t you supposed to be smart? Why are you the dumbest genius I’ve ever met?” Jeongguk snaps.

“Hey, who’s the hyung here?” Jimin grumbles, rubbing his shoulder. “Respect your hyung.”

Jeongguk sends him a withering glare. “Hyung, I’ll respect you when you learn some self-preservation.”

Jimin rounds on him with a pointed glare. “Self-preservation? If your self-preservation is so great, then explain that ,” he says, stabbing a finger at Jeongguk’s mending leg.

Jeongguk grimaces. Letting a water ghoul take a chunk out of his leg maybe wasn’t one of his brightest decisions, but Seokjin’s back had been turned and Jeongguk had acted without thinking. The pain of the bite and clearing out the yin energy had been worth the startled, wide-eyed looks Seokjin has been sending him all evening.  

“Well, protecting him is my duty,” Jeongguk mumbles, ducking his head to hide his red face. “He’s my betrothed.”

Jimin clicks his tongue, shaking his head in faux disappointment. “Such reckless chivalry.”

“Oh, shut up.”

“You started it first!” Jimin exclaims. He rolls onto the floor, sprawling lazily on his back with his limbs spread out. 

Looking at him, it’s hard to tell he’d almost been swallowed up by some super-powerful water ghoul only hours before. There’s not even a scratch on him, and somehow that worries Jeongguk. He isn’t sure why. It just seems - odd. Jimin came out of that water mostly fine, and he probably shouldn’t have. 

“You know why that happened, right?” Jimin asks quietly, uncommonly serious.

A grave sense of unease settles over Jeongguk’s shoulders, the dark shroud of the future a heavy weight. He nods even though Jimin can’t see it. “I know. The northern river…”

“Yes.”

“Then…you think that means…?”

Jimin sighs. He tilts his head back far enough to catch Jeongguk’s eye upside down. “Remember when we were kids and the former Kkachi Sect Leader came? And he was ranting and warning about potential war? Your father said other sect leaders would discuss it, but that never happened. I’m starting to think that was a mistake.”

“The Gom Sect is too bold,” Jeongguk says darkly. “Who sends a fully developed Waterborne Abyss to another sect’s territory?”

“A sect that has no fear that someone will hold them responsible,” Jimin answers. But there’s a hard, stubborn look in his eye that Jeongguk recognizes.

“Hey, wait,” he says quickly, hoping to cut his brother’s thought off before it can fully bloom. “You don’t think you should hold them responsible, do you? Jimin, you’re seventeen! This is something for sect leaders to deal with!”

Jimin thumps his hands against the floor angrily. “Everyone is always saying that! But what are our leaders doing? What have they done while the common people have been suffering and while smaller sects have been swallowed up like chew toys? Nothing! So, why should I wait? Why shouldn’t I do something?”

“What can you do?” Jeongguk fires back. He’s mad too, but he’s scared mostly - scared of what Jimin might do, scared of what’s going to happen. His bright future as the Sect Leader of the Mugunghwa Sect has been sealed since he was born, but now…

“I don’t know!” Jimin explodes. “But I can do something ! Anything I do is better than sitting on my hands like everyone else. I should-”

“Stop it!” Jeongguk cries. “Just stop! Think about it! You’re not just Park Jimin! You’re the head disciple of our sect, and what do you think eomeoni will do to you if you act out of order?”

“I could be a rogue cultivator,” Jimin says hotly. It’s so rare to see Jimin so visibly frustrated, but it’s even rarer to hear Jimin say something like this - something that could potentially divorce him from Jeongguk’s life. His brother’s loyalty is so deeply rooted that it seems unshakeable.

But…even the earth shakes at times.

Jeongguk’s breath catches, his heart stilling in his chest. Jimin as a rogue cultivator - a possibility, but a devastating loss. It’s not the first time the thought has crossed Jeongguk’s mind, though. It would be easier for his brother, safer for him, if he wasn’t tied to the Mugunghwa Sect. Any distance from Jeongguk’s mother would be a boon to Jimin’s continued good health. But Jeongguk is also selfish - he doesn’t want his brother, his best friend, to leave him. Not ever.

“Would you really leave our sect because of this?”

Jimin squeezes his eyes closed. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it. I’m just…”

Jeongguk swallows around the lump in his throat. “Me too.”

The morning comes too quickly for Namjoon, but he didn’t sleep much, anyway. He has always been a light sleeper, especially on nights after Dohoon has an episode. Last night had been no different and Namjoon had spent many minutes getting in and out of bed, checking on every sigh and snore his little brother made. Dohoon had slept peacefully, still a lamb utterly unaware of how dangerous the world is. Namjoon wants him to keep this innocence for as long as possible, but he fears that time is quickly coming to an end.

Namjoon is still staring up at the ceiling when a knock comes at the door. The rhythm of the knock is oddly jubilant, even for the early hour. It doesn’t sound like the knock of a Horangi disciple, which is why he is less than surprised to see Park Jimin on the other side of the door. 

“Oh, good, you’re awake,” Jimin says briskly. His expression twists into a pained moue. “I can’t believe we have to wake up this early when we aren’t even at Horangi Recesses…Such a strange sect…”

Namjoon frowns down at the shorter boy. “Why are you here?”

Jimin snaps his fingers with a dazzling grin. “I have something for you! Or actually, it’s for your brother!”

Jimin squeezes into the room boldly - rudely - before Namjoon can even offer a token protest. Namjoon holds his tongue. Park Jimin is strange and frustrating, but he also sacrificed himself yesterday to save Dohoon. This is not something Namjoon will be quick to forget, just like he is not quick to forget the wide meridians lurking in Jimin’s body - meridians that had responded rather strangely to the invasion of yin energy Jimin had been exposed to.

Namjoon is certain Jimin didn’t notice. Namjoon wouldn’t have noticed either had he not been studying the effects of yin energy on cultivators for years. And certainly, no other physician would ever think to detect such a thing but -

When other cultivators are exposed to a large amount of yin energy, what inevitably happens is that the golden core compensates by churning out more yang energy. Usually, this is a quick, instinctive explosion to clear the body, and if the cultivator is strong enough, it can shield the body from any remaining yin energy in the environment. Although Namjoon had not examined Min Yoongi after he saved Jimin, he suspects that the strength of Yoongi’s golden core had produced this effect. 

For weaker cultivators, the initial gambit of the golden core is usually followed by a swift retreat of all yang energy as the golden core seeks to protect itself. When yin and yang energy co-mingle in the meridians, the effect is as reactive as placing oil and water in the same pan - painful and ultimately unsustainable. To prevent damage, the golden core seems to instinctively retract, pulling energy from the meridians and condensing deeper into the body. When this happens, the meridians also narrow, another act of automatic self-defense to prevent any infestation from yin energy. But when this goes on for too long, volatile yin energy can pry the meridians open, drain the golden core, and destroy the cultivator’s spiritual cognition along with the spiritual root. This is what Namjoon has observed from all of Lee Chungwoo’s experiments. 

But Park Jimin had been a different case. Instead of shrinking away, Jimin’s meridians had remained wide and open, even as his golden core closed itself off. In doing so, the yin energy from the Waterborne Abyss had been able to flow through his meridians and had easily left once Namjoon had begun his treatment. Namjoon has never witnessed anything like it. He doesn’t understand how it’s possible or why Jimin is special. Is it simply a matter of disposition?

But Namjoon knows better than to pursue this scientific curiosity. Some things are better left undiscovered. However, keeping this self-made promise would be much easier if Park Jimin would leave him and his brother alone. 

Namjoon does not think this will happen given the way Jimin has so doggedly sought his company. Not when Jimin is someone Dohoon now idolizes, a rare kind soul in a world full of people who overlook a stuttering, shy, meek boy like Dohoon. Not when Park Jimin is here, making himself comfortable in the seating area of the room, rifling through his pockets to pull out…something. 

“Kim doryeon-nim, sit down!” Jimin calls cheerfully.

Namjoon is quick to hush him, throwing a cautious glance at Dohoon who continues to sleep, blissfully unaware. Dohoon always could sleep through an astounding amount of noise, especially after an episode. Namjoon doesn’t think his little brother will wake up, but it’s best to be mindful anyway. 

“He needs to sleep,” Namjoon says sternly, folding his long legs beneath him as he sits across from Jimin. “If you’re going to be here, be quiet.”

Jimin presses his lips together and nods quickly. He glances at Dohoon’s peaceful face, then looks at Namjoon with open inquiry. “But what’s wrong with him? He doesn’t seem cursed. Or at least, he doesn’t feel cursed.”

“You can feel curses?” Namjoon questions.

Jimin shrugs. “Sure. Can’t everyone?”

No, Namjoon wants to say. Not unless they are trained to detect curses, and even then, some doctors can overlook a curse trace. Cultivators with strong skills may be able to see a curse as it progresses, but this comes with age. Jimin is no doctor and although he is skilled, he’s still very young. 

He must be very attuned to natural energy , Namjoon realizes. Is this why his meridians are different? Is this the result of training, or a predisposition? But I’ve never heard of training like this…

Namjoon clears his throat. “Dohoon had an accident when he was young. He has a…special constitution now.”

“An accident with yin energy, I suppose,” Jimin says astutely. 

Namjoon doesn’t answer. Answering would be revealing too much. But he is unnerved by Jimin’s quick conclusions, so it’s a struggle to keep his expression impassive. Thankfully, Jimin’s short attention span has him changing the subject very quickly. 

“Here,” he says. “This is for Dohoon.”

Jimin holds something in his hand, some kind of woven sachet. He passes it over to Namjoon, who takes it with unhidden caution. The fabric of the sachet is cheap and rough, the color similar to barley with a thin string of twine tying it closed. Namjoon opens the sachet and finds a thin sheet of rice paper inside, the small sheet absolutely covered in a complicated array of cinnabar and ink.

“What is this?”

Jimin hunches his shoulders. “Like I said, it’s for Dohoon. I made a promise to protect him yesterday and I failed. He could have gotten seriously hurt because I convinced you to bring him along. Nothing will make up for that. But,” Jimin says, nodding to the sachet. “Maybe that can help in the future.”

“This?” Namjoon asks skeptically. 

“It’s a protection talisman, one I invented,” Jimin explains. “It will shield him from malicious energy. I modified it to protect from malicious intent, too. You know, the more human type of threats. He’ll need it in the future, won’t he? I promise it’s useful.”

Namjoon’s chest tightens. “What do you mean?” he asks stiffly, careful not to crush the sachet.

Jimin meets his eyes unflinchingly. “Dohoon is innocent. He’s a good boy. No matter why you were sent here, he deserves to be protected.”

Namjoon drops his eyes guiltily. His stomach churns at this unexpected kindness - undeserved kindness too, considering Namjoon is a spy. A reluctant spy, but a spy all the same. It’s notable, of course, that Jimin has specified this protective talisman is for Dohoon - not Namjoon. 

Jimin is right. Dohoon is innocent and should be protected. 

Carefully, Namjoon closes the sachet and re-ties the twine. “Thank you. I will give this to him when he wakes up.”

Jimin’s smile comes easily, somehow relaxed even after the weight of the damning words he has left unspoken. He bounces up and sketches a bow. “I’ll let myself out, doryeon-nim!”

The door clatters closed quietly after Jimin leaves and Namjoon puts his head in his hands, stifling a groan into his palms. Later, Dohoon is thrilled to receive the sachet made by his hero and very meticulously ties the sachet to his inner clothes, chattering all the while about how amazing Park Jimin is.

Namjoon lets it wash over him and wonders how much longer he will be able to keep his head above water - and about how much longer he can realistically protect those who are so precious to him.

“Hyung,” Hoseok begins pensively. He is helping Seokjin strap on his sword belt, an elaborate strip of leather that is so impractical it’s almost comical compared to the much sturdier belt Hoseok uses. He honestly has no idea how Seokjin summons his sword from such a vain contraption. “Do you think there is something strange happening?”

Seokjin fiddles with the buttons on the sword belt, making sure they sit just right. “You’ll have to be more specific,” he says absentmindedly. “There’s a lot of strange things.”

“Yesterday,” Hoseok specifies promptly. “Yesterday was strange. And dangerous.”

Seokjin stills. “Yes, it was.”

Hoseok frowns. “That’s it?”

Seokjin lifts his almond-shaped eyes and makes an irritated, huffing sort of noise. “Well, what do you want me to say? It was really weird. I’ve never even heard of a Waterbeard -”

“Waterborne.”

“-yes, a Water-whatever Abyss until yesterday, and then Park Jimin almost dies in front of all of us, and something was weird with that little Sonamu disciple and I believe I saw Min Yoongi actually make a facial expression,” Seokjin rants, throwing his hands up. “All very strange!”

Hoseok stares at his friend, unimpressed. “Are you trying to be stupid? You know what I mean.”

Seokjin glares at him. “And I still have nothing to say about it,” he snaps defensively. “Does it all scream of the type of conspiracy the addle-minded sycophants in Jasujeon Tower would cook up? Of course it does. But even my father wouldn’t be this bold, particularly not against an opponent as formidable as the Horangi Sect.”

Hoseok thought as much. He’s not suspecting his sect leader of anything, of course. Even as slimy and untrustworthy as Kim Kyongsoo is, he’s not the type to make big splashes like this. And Hoseok does believe this is a big splash of some sort - he has ears and Park Jimin is not a quiet person, nor someone who seems to possess an ounce of situational awareness. Hoseok should really say something to his young acquaintance about not discussing such dangerous topics so openly. 

“Some people seem to think it’s the Gom Sect,” Hoseok says. 

“Probably,” Seokjin agrees. He stuffs his feet into shiny leather boots, expression drawn with tension. “There have been…overtures. All the major sects know about it in some way. The Gom Sect is hungry.”

Hoseok thinks of his family in a little village not too far from Gwancheon, of his sister who has recently given birth to a daughter, of his parents who still toil away at the farm even though Hoseok sends them enough money so that they don’t have to work. Hoseok thinks of other commoner families who will be trampled if a sect like the Gom Sect is allowed to run amok. Hoseok thinks of all those water ghouls that had created the Waterborne Abyss, about all the lives that much untamed yin energy can claim so easily. 

He feels sick to his stomach about it.

“Are we going to do nothing?” he asks his closest friend. 

Seokjin’s shoulders draw together. “What can we do?” he asks bluntly. “Knowing my father, even if there was war, the Jasujeon Sect would not respond unless it would directly benefit his goals.”

“So we would stay out of it?” Hoseok demands, clenching his fists. “I don’t think I could do that. My family -”

“I don’t know!” Seokjin cuts him off, running his hands through his loose hair. “I don’t know what I would do because it hasn’t happened yet and it may not ever happen. But I’m not like my father or my brothers - I won’t tolerate - there are some things that shouldn’t…” Seokjin shakes his head. “But I don’t have a supporting faction in the sect, Hoseok. There are those who support my father, those that support Sangsik as the heir, and those that support Sangwoo’s vision. I’m to be married out of the sect, so I have no real power. Do you understand?”

Hoseok takes in the defeated posture of his usually confident hyung and feels torn. He admittedly doesn’t understand the struggles Seokjin must endure, a political pawn from the moment of his birth, someone raised in a gilded cage with vipers at his feet. The choices Seokjin can realistically make are very limited - but when pushed into a corner, what will Seokjin do?

Hoseok knows what he will do. If there is war, he will take up his sword and defend the common people. It’s an act that will destroy everything he has worked so hard for if he must go against his sect, but there are things that are more important.

That is a choice he will have to make. And that choice may be different than what others will choose to do - a choice that may be different than what Seokjin chooses or is able to do.

“We don’t need to talk about it,” Hoseok says quietly. “It’s not…”

Seokjin nods, wishing he could be braver, wishing he could have better and bolder answers. But he doesn’t, and he has never felt so weak because of it. Seokjin never thought that he lacked courage before, but between freezing up in the face of the Waterborne Abyss yesterday and Hoseok’s prompting today, Seokjin has discovered just how weak he is. It’s an acutely uncomfortable realization and one he is ashamed to make.

Yesterday, Seokjin’s weakness had resulted in Jeongguk injuring himself to save him. Today, Seokjin’s weakness has put a new sense of space between him and one of the only people he trusts. Tomorrow and in the future, Seokjin’s weakness will certainly only spell disaster.

Yet it is not something he can change so easily, not after spending an entire lifetime second-guessing every step so he doesn’t cross a line or fall into a scheme. Seokjin is perpetually frozen in this way, more mouse than man. He’s the third son, a spare, something to be traded away. Any power and privilege he has are in name only. His hands have always been tied, and even if he has some skills in cultivation, he has never been expected to use them seriously. Kim Seokjin has and likely always will be an ornamental figure. He doesn’t know how to change that. He doesn’t know if he should, either.

“Sometimes, Hoseok, it’s best to keep your head down,” Seokjin mutters. He can’t bring himself to look at Hoseok as he speaks. “At least until you know which way the wind blows.”

“I understand, hyung,” Hoseok says quietly. 

Between them, the rest of the morning is spent in silence, each of them lost in turmoiled thoughts about the future. Along with the rest of the disciples from the night hunt, they eat breakfast at the inn, but Seokjin can’t manage to eat the rich food with his stomach so tight. He spends his time sipping tea, pushing rice around his bowl, and trying not to watch Jeon Jeongguk at the next table.

Time and time again, Seokjin’s eyes are drawn to the bandage wrapped around Jeongguk’s leg. It’s still almost unbelievable how quickly Jeongguk had pushed him out of the way, and even though it’s not the first time someone has gotten hurt for Seokjin, this is the first time he feels true guilt and shame about it.

Seokjin is older. He has more nighthunting experience. He shouldn’t have faltered so badly that his betrothed had to protect him with his own body. It’s good fortune that Kim Namjoon was there, even if the good doctor is all kinds of suspicious, or else things for Jeongguk might have turned out worse. 

Even still, he avoids Jeongguk’s searching gaze every time the younger boy turns to look at him. Seokjin knows this doesn’t do him any favors, especially in regard to Park Jimin’s impression of him, but he can’t help it.

I’m a coward through and through , Seokjin sulks, and ignores Hoseok’s gentle inquisition as they leave the inn to walk up the mountain. 

Taehyung stands outside, his wool cloak pulled up to his ears, and holds his wrist out for one of his magpies to land. He gently pets the bird’s head, cooing sweetly as he removes the letter tied to the bird’s leg. Unburdened by the missive, the bird flies away, circling overhead a few times before disappearing into the mountain trees, only a few birdcalls away. 

He hums to himself as he tucks the letter away and goes back to his dorm room. The courtyards dedicated to the guest disciples have been quiet and tense since the day before when they all heard about the great disturbance in Daegu from the frazzled disciples who had returned to request aid from the Horangi elders. Classes had been canceled for the day since many of their teachers were tending to the issue in town. Taehyung had taken the opportunity to tend to important issues of his own. 

In the dorm room, Eunwoo greets Taehyung with a wry smile and a different sort of letter. Taehyung recognizes his brother’s blocky script and whines, ducking away from Eunwoo when he tries to pass the letter over. 

“He’s going to scold me about the latest exam scores,” Taehyung says. “Min Chunghee probably told him about my results and I don’t want to hear about it! It’s very unfair that my brother can harass me like this just because he has friends in high places. I’m doing my best!”

“You aren’t.”

Taehyung rolls his eyes. “Well, maybe not my best but as good as I’m willing to do, and that’s the same thing practically.”

“I’ll read it, then,” Eunwoo decides. “Sect Leader Kim shouldn’t be ignored by both of us.”

“Aren’t you thoughtful?” Taehyung grins and flops down on his bed, unrolling the missive carried by his magpie. He scans the letter, frowning at the unfortunate confirmation inside. One of his informants in the north says a problem with water ghouls up in Seoul had mysteriously vanished about two weeks ago, which would be just enough time for water ghouls to cause problems as they traveled downstream…

“Your brother says you had better not show your face in Geochang unless you pass the final exam, but he also says the cooks keep making your favorite honey cookies so he is sending them separately,” Eunwoo summarizes.

“Oh, I love those cookies.”

“What does your letter say?”

“My informant says the Gom Sect really did flush those ghouls down the river when they failed to eliminate them,” Taehyung returns, crumpling the missive into a small ball. “It seems the Gom Sect truly doesn’t care about hiding their corruption anymore. I’m worried…”

“We have been preparing for war for years,” Eunwoo points out. “Our Sect Leader has specially trained us for this inevitability.”

“But are other sects prepared?” Taehyung worries. “The Kkachi Sect is strong and our military might is nothing to brush off, but we are still only one sect and we are not even half of what the Gom Sect is. My brother…if he has to cultivate beast spirits to fight in a war, how long will he live? Let alone my brother, all of our disciples will be pushed into early graves. Eunwoo, I-”

Eunwoo moves quickly, crossing the room to pull Taehyung into his arms. A cool layer of sweat has gathered on Taehyung’s brow and his heart gallops behind his breastbone. He swallows convulsively, trying to lock down nausea and panic that has suddenly come over him.

Eunwoo hushes him, ever so gently. “You are so clever, Taehyung-ah,” he praises, brushing Taehyung’s curly bangs away from his face. “You’ve already figured it out and you’re making plans, aren’t you? You have eyes everywhere. There isn’t a single move any sect can make that you won’t know about.”

Taehyung squeezes his eyes shut. “But it’s really going to happen, isn’t it? War?”

Eunwoo doesn’t answer. He doesn’t have to.

Chapter Text

Jimin leans around the corner, straining his ears for the whisper-quiet footsteps of Horangi disciples on patrol. Hearing none, an impish smile tucks into the corners of his mouth and he hurriedly picks his way across the courtyard, hugging the shadows of the wall as closely as he hugs two jugs of Emperor’s Smile to his chest.

He’s gloating internally at Min Yoongi, who surely thought he prevented Jimin from buying any of the rice wine when they were coming back from Daegu. But Jimin is very clever! He just so happened to be carrying a small purse in his pocket, one with magical storage to conveniently store some wine covertly bought from the innkeeper the morning right before they left. Nobody had noticed a thing, and now Jimin has spoils to share with his friends to celebrate Seollal. 

I win! Jimin thinks with a great sense of victory, rushing up to his dorm room to knock on the door with a secretive cadence. The door slides open almost immediately and Jeongguk steps aside, peeking around the empty nighttime corridors before sliding the door shut. 

“I still don’t know why you didn’t just keep the wine here,” he grumbles. 

“And risk it being discovered during a surprise inspection? I don’t think so!”

“But there haven’t been any surprise inspections.”

“That you know of,” Jimin says dismissively. He smiles down at the wine jugs, petting the pretty white ceramic lovingly. “Besides, you have to treat excellent wine like this the right way. I couldn’t possibly store it in any place where sunlight could ruin it! I buried it in a very secret place as soon as we got back the other day.”

“That explains the dirt,” Jeongguk sighs. 

Jimin grins, lifting one jug of wine to give it a kiss. Who cares if he’s a little dirty when he can finally have a taste of the best makgeolli in the country?

“You got it!” Taehyung cheers from across the room. He is arranging himself at the center table, where there is all kinds of contraband on the table, courtesy of Taehyung. A deck of cards, spiced nuts, and a generous box of yakgwa. Taehyung clears space for the wine, then takes the liberty of pouring four bowls as Jimin, Jeongguk, and Eunwoo settle around the table. 

Jimin picks up his bowl with reverence, taking a long sniff of the rice wine. His mouth waters and he smiles around a slow sip, letting the flavor roll around his tongue. He makes an appreciative sound. It’s so good he could almost cry. 

“Just drink it like a normal person, please ,” Jeongguk begs. He has already finished his bowl like the little fool he is.

“Let me tell you, this is the way to properly appreciate wine this good,” Jimin lectures, never one to miss an opportunity to pass some wisdom to his brother. “You can’t just swallow it down, you uncultured swine! You have to savor it!”

“Yes, yes!” Taehyung agrees. His eyes are sparkling as he takes another sip. “Oh, this truly deserves all the praise it gets.”

“Do you taste the sweetness?” Jimin asks. “There’s a floral note, too. So delicate!”

Jeongguk scrunches his nose and looks at Eunwoo. “It just tastes like rice wine to me.”

“It’s good,” Eunwoo says. 

Jimin helps himself to another bowl with a happy hum. The wine is so decadent that he does feel rather kingly as he drinks it and he can’t help but smile at how good it is. Such an aptly-named drink. He and Taehyung spend several more minutes extolling the virtues of Emperor’s Smile and what a shame that it is it can’t be found in any other place but Daegu. 

“You’re talking about wine like people talk about lovers,” Jeongguk complains. 

Jimin wiggles his brows. “Shows what you know! Good wine is like a lover!”

“Hear, hear!” Taehyung cheers.

Jimin stands up, props his socked foot on the table, and lifts his bowl of rice wine high in the air. “Just like a good lover, wine makes you feel good and appreciated! Wine is honest, knows how to comfort you, and brings beauty into your life. Wine is-”

Jeongguk hits his leg, laughing freely. “You’re ridiculous!”

Jimin smiles widely and sits back down with a sense of satisfaction. For the first time in a while, he feels completely unburdened. Jimin can’t help but love the new year and all the hope it brings. Spring is coming soon and with it, the sun will chase away the permafrost that chills the air. It’s hard not to feel optimistic about everything as the year starts afresh, the full moon high in the sky and red lanterns hung tastefully around Horangi Recesses. The Lunar New Year has always been his favorite time, even when he was very young in Ulsan.

He finishes off his bowl of wine, licking his lips to chase the flavor. They haven’t opened the second jug. Should they save it? Oh, but Jimin wants to indulge! 

“Hey, Jimin,” Taehyung says. “Did you ever finish that puppet talisman?”

Jimin perks up. “Actually, I did!” he exclaims. Jimin rocks to his knees and drags a crate from under his bed, which is filled with all of his talisman notes and supplies. It doesn’t take him very long at all to find the finished talisman work for the full-size puppets Taehyung had commissioned. He pulls out the papers with a flourish and smacks them on the tabletop.

Taehyung leans over in awe. “It’s so complicated!”

Jimin taps his finger against the talisman design. “It’s a little complicated, but the stroke order is easy! All you need is a paper puppet and this talisman. I’ve designed it so the talisman can work from a bit of a distance, but the energy price is a lot. And there is another catch I couldn’t find a workaround for…”

Eunwoo lifts a brow. “A catch?”

Jimin hums, pursing his lips. “How to put it? See, with the papermen, a spark of spiritual energy and some intent is all it takes to control the talisman. But our spiritual energy is part of us, so even if we can replace what we burn, we are still using part of ourselves,” he explains. Jimin grimaces a little. “With any talisman, the more complicated it is, the more energy is required. For these puppets, to give a more life-like effect, a cultivator must pour in spiritual energy and a bit of spiritual cognition.”

“Spiritual cognition?” Taehyung echoes. 

“You mean part of your soul has to be used to power it?” Jeongguk asks dubiously. “Isn’t that dangerous?”

“It’s a bit of a risk,” Jimin readily acknowledges. “But since part of your cognition is in the puppet so you can control it, you should be able to break the connection between yourself and the puppet if there is any danger. I put in a protective array to minimize any backlash, but…if a cultivator doesn’t break the connection before a puppet is completely destroyed, a mild case of qi deviation is probable.”

“Mild qi deviation.” Jeonnguk shakes his head. “That’s a high price.”

“But the risk is worth the reward,” Taehyung says. He has a rare serious expression, a keen sort of intelligence flashing in his eyes that belies the frivolousness of his pampered-young-master exterior. Taehyung looks at Eunwoo. “What do you think?”

Eunwoo picks up the talisman design and frowns deeply at it. “I don’t know enough about talismanic arts to tell but…This would be useful, even with the potential risk to the cultivator. Does a cultivator need to be very skilled to use it?”

Jimin ponders for a bit. “Well, I don’t think a cultivator with a nascent core would be able to use it for more than a minute. The energy drain isn’t extreme for cultivators at our levels, but weaker cultivators will definitely need some time to recover.”

“So, it’s useful for most cultivators,” Eunwoo concludes.

Jimin shrugs, looking between Taehyung and Eunwoo. The rice wine isn’t very strong and it doesn’t escape his notice that the Kkachi disciples are asking rather pointed questions about the puppet talisman. When Taehyung had brought the idea to him, Jimin didn’t think twice about it - he considered it a new, exciting challenge and had fun tinkering with the design to make something functional. But now, he’s wondering what Taehyung and Eunwoo have planned for these puppets.

Jimin’s mind is quick. In light of the recent moves by the Gom Sect and considering the Kkachi Sect’s proximity to the northern giant…

“Wouldn’t it be funny to make them dance?” Jimin jokes. He nudges Taehyung’s knee. “Hey, imagine these performing a dance instead of gisaengs. Do you think they would be mad?”

Taehyung snickers. “Maybe they would be glad! I bet they could use a break!”

Jeongguk’s face is red at the mention of gisaengs because he is young and very easily flustered and probably hasn’t forgotten about the one time a gisaeng called him a little bunny when they were on a nighthunt asking around for information. “We shouldn’t talk about that here!”

“Don’t be a prude, Gguk-ah!”

“I’m not!”

“You won’t even borrow some of my books,” Taehyung teases. 

Jeongguk’s face is on fire, his eyes wide with incredulity. “Because I don’t want to get in trouble! It’s bad enough that I have to deal with whatever mischief he brings!” Jeongguk points aggressively at Jimin and Jimin laughs loudly, clutching his sides as he topples over into Jeongguk’s shoulder. His brother shoves him off, still so red that steam practically rises from his skin. 

“You’re the worst,” Jeongguk tells him.

“That’s me!” Jimin agrees cheerfully.

“It’s a little silly to be prudish, isn’t it?” Taehyung giggles. “We might as well learn about how to make love to please our spouses one day. Jeongguk, aren’t you engaged?”

Jimin giggles, clapping his hands together. “Yes, Gguk-ah! Listen to Taehyung and learn how you will please your peacock husband in the future!”

Even though Jeongguk is still flushed hotly, he manages to deliver a convincing threat through his gritted teeth. “Do you want to die?”

Jimin snorts but decides to take pity on his little brother anyway. He’s a good hyung! 

The night grows longer as their small group plays lightning rounds of card games Taehyung teaches them. Jimin is delighted by how awful he is, but Jeongguk grows progressively more irate as he gambles away his share of spiced nuts. His little brother is so competitive and so very bad at losing, and he seems to have found a worthwhile opponent in Taehyung, who has an impressive impassive face that helps him win many bets. Eunwoo also gives Jeongguk a run for his money, although he doesn’t seem as invested in the game.

However, much to their detriment, their merriment ends up growing in volume as more wine is drunk. In the utter silence of the Horangi Recesses, this level of noise is not unnoticeable, so it’s no surprise when firm knocks sound at their door.

The group freezes for several seconds - and then there is a flurry of movement as they do their best to hide all the contraband under beds and clothes. The result is a scattering of nuts across the table and floor, upturned bowls of wine, and toppled cards. There is no hiding the scent of wine in the air or the flush on their cheeks, and Jimin resigns himself to whatever punishment the Horangi Sect will see to inflict.

When the knock goes unanswered, the uninvited guest slides open the door and strides into the room. It’s only a small shock to see Min Yoongi’s icy countenance, which cracks into a minuscule expression of befuddlement as he spots the mess they have made in the room. His golden eyes land on Jimin, who has been caught beneath his brother and Taehyung as they try to hide wine jugs beneath the bed, with Jimin on his stomach, partially smothered by the weight of the other two boys. 

“What are you doing?” Yoongi whispers. His feline eyes narrow into a cool glare. “Get off of him.”

Taehyung and Jeongguk scramble to comply, their movements slow and somewhat clumsy. Jimin flips over to sit on his bottom, sending a sheepish smile to Yoongi. 

Eunwoo is the first to act. He hunches over and makes retching noises as if he’s going to be sick, and Jeongguk and Taehyung are quick to follow. Jimin’s mirth over the situation leaves him as he realizes the other three boys are using the excuse of sickness to run away. The other three duck out of the room with their hands held over their mouths, leaving Jimin to stare up at Yoongi. 

Yoongi’s nostrils flare, his keen eyes catching on the remnants of everything forbidden in the room. He pins Jimin with a merciless sort of stare. “You! Alcohol, gambling, indecent literature - all severe infractions. You will need to be punished. And those three, as well,” Yoongi declares. 

He turns on his heel to stalk out of the room, maybe to immediately report these rule violations despite the late hour, and Jimin acts on impulse. It’s only a matter of a few quick sketches of his blue spiritual energy into the air before Yoongi is struck with a talisman that freezes his entire body in place.

Oh. Oh, Jimin did that . He hurries to stand up, tripping over his own feet as he scrambles in front of Yoongi’s frozen form. Well, mostly frozen. His eyes are still moving and he can still deliver a rather dark glare that makes Jimin shiver in well-earned caution. 

“Don’t be mad,” Jimin says with a nervous smile. He eases around Yoongi and closes the door, popping the latch to lock the door for good measure. He turns back and examines the immobile perfection of his talisman; Yoongi’s fingers are twitching as he obviously tries to fight against the talisman, but Jimin’s work is holding strong. 

He sighs. “Now what do I do?” 

Yoongi doesn’t say anything because, with Jimin’s talisman active, he can’t say anything. 

Jimin lifts his brows. “Hey, don’t you think this talisman is impressive? I was inspired by your sect’s silencing spell and since I was tooling around with another talisman, I thought…But I didn’t think it would be so effective!” Jimin declares with a proud smile. 

Yoongi’s eyes flash. He seems rather angry. 

Jimin rolls his eyes. “Oh, go sit down,” he orders casually, and he feels a small pull on his spiritual energy as Yoongi turns to follow his instructions. Yoongi seats himself woodenly at the table, staring straight ahead, and Jimin flops down onto the floor on the other side. “Wow, you really did sit down! Here, Yoongi-hyung, you can go ahead and talk if you want!”

“Park Jimin,” Yoongi says with thick displeasure. “Release me.”

Jimin pouts at him. “But if I release you, you’ll tattle on me.”

“I will report your infractions regardless of when I am released.”

“Obviously, I know that,” Jimin snipes. “But at least this way, I won’t be punished in the middle of the night! And I get to test out a new talisman. What do you think? It works by affecting the qi points for movement so my spiritual energy can disrupt your voluntary movement. Isn’t it neat for pranks?” Jimin asks eagerly, tilting his head this way and that. “Or it would be good for nighthunts too! Imagine keeping commoners out of the way this easily! Can you disobey me like this?”

Yoongi glowers.

Jimin grins and fetches the last wine jug, pouring some into a bowl that he places in front of Yoongi. “Here, Yoongi-hyung. Drink this.”

Yoongi strains against the order, his arm moving in incremental jerks as he takes the bowl, lifts it to his lips, and drinks. The cup is placed down much faster and Yoongi stares at Jimin with a deadpan expression.

Jimin shifts to his knees, leaning in closely to see if Yoongi will do anything when the alcohol hits. But of course, for as smooth as Emperor’s Smile is, it’s not a heady drink and it will take several bowls before someone gets drunk - unless that someone is a lightweight, which is what Jimin suspects Yoongi is.

The only thing that happens, however, is a slow-growing pink glow on Yoongi’s ears as Jimin brings his face closer to better watch for any reactions. 

“So, are you drunk? Yoongi-hyung, answer me!”

“No.”

Jimin tilts his head. “No?”

“Not drunk,” Yoongi clarifies coldly. He is staring Jimin down with those golden, feline eyes, as unblinking and challenging as any predator. Jimin has a hard time not feeling like he’s just captured a rather patient tiger, and Yoongi’s tone, which implies that Jimin is rather stupid for expecting Yoongi to be drunk so quickly, only reinforces this feeling.

Jimin huffs, puffing out his cheeks. “Well, if you aren’t a lightweight, then why does your sect forbid drinking? You made such a big deal out of it…”

“Over-consumption leads to poor decisions.” Yoongi pauses, then says rather pointedly, “And foolish behavior.”

Jimin leans away, laughing with his head thrown back. “Are you calling me foolish? Well, that’s fine! I am foolish! I’d rather be a little silly than be boring!”

“Mn.” Yoongi doesn’t sound very convinced. 

Jimin smirks, pouring each of them another bowl. It happens to be the last of the wine, which is somewhat sad, but he’s satisfied that he got to enjoy so much of it. He scoots a bowl in front of Yoongi. “Well, since you’re apparently not a lightweight, you might as well finish the wine with me. You scared all my friends away, after all! You owe me!”

“Jimin.”

Jimin rolls his eyes. He takes the bowl of wine he poured for Yoongi and drinks it in a few quick swallows. “I wouldn’t really make you keep drinking,” he mutters. “It’s no fun if you don’t do anything embarrassing.”

Yoongi sighs very deeply. “Release me.”

“Yes, yes,” Jimin agrees. He taps into the small amount of his energy that encircles Yoongi’s qi points and tries to tug the energy back to his core. When that doesn’t work, he tries again and again, and then laughs nervously when none of his attempts work. “Oh…It appears to be a little. Stuck.”

“Jimin.”

“Don’t be mad!” Jimin yelps. “These things happen all the time! Well,” he amends at Yoongi’s weighty glare. “These things happen all the time to me, but they probably don’t happen to you…You’ll just have to bear it, Yoongi-hyung. The talisman will wear off soon.”

“When.”

Jimin bites his lip. “Just…soon.”

While Yoongi narrows his eyes even more, Jimin digs through the crate of his talisman notes, digging out the sketches for the one he has just used on Yoongi. Originally, this talisman was meant to control Taehyung’s paper puppets with more precision, but Jimin had come up with a cleaner design that worked better for that project. He’s not one to throw away a good idea, though, and he had been planning on fleshing out this design more, just for the sake of curiosity. He can’t believe it works so well, though! The length of time it’s active is admittedly something of a problem, however…

“I bet the talisman master will be able to tell me where this went wrong…” Jimin murmurs, making a mental note to bring his work to his first class in the upcoming days. At the thought of his new classes, Jimin straightens up and turns to Yoongi with his brightest smile. “Oh, right! I should thank you, shouldn’t I?”

Yoongi stares at him blankly.

Jimin’s face feels hot. He fights against the urge to fidget under that heavy stare. “I heard you recommended me for the talisman course,” he explains, ducking his head. “That’s…nobody has ever done something like that for me before. It means a lot, this opportunity to learn more. So, thank you. I really mean it!”

“No need,” Yoongi says. 

“No need?”

Yoongi looks away. If he could have turned his head away, Jimin thinks he might have chosen to do that instead. “Do not need to think me. Better for you to be occupied than bored,” he utters. “Fewer problems if you are occupied.”

Jimin almost chokes on his laughter. “You’re probably right,” he snickers. He really is a troublemaker, through and through. Jimin polishes off the last bit of wine, then sets the bowl aside with a sly smile. “Hey, will you call me hyung?”

“No,” Yoongi says shortly. 

Jimin whines, swaying forward to lean on his elbows across the table. “But why not? Wouldn’t it be funny?”

“You are not older,” Yoongi says stiffly. 

“Aigoo, does that really matter? It’s just us here! It’s just for fun!” Jimin teases. “Call me hyung and I’ll call you….wangja-nim!”

Yoongi’s ears turn very red. “Jimin!”

Jimin giggles, adopting the same wide-eyed look of innocence he gives Minji-noona when he wants something special from the kitchens. “Yes, wangja-nim? Did you want something, wangja-nim?”

“Do not-”

“But wangja-nim, isn’t it true that your clan is distantly related to the king?” Jimin goads with an innocent tone. “Why can’t I call you wangja-nim, then? You’re a little prince!”

Yoongi’s gaze is searing. “Jimin!”

Jimin hums a little to himself. He draws a circle on the table with his finger, looking up at Yoongi through his eyelashes. “Maybe if you called me hyung…”

The grit of Yoongi’s teeth is almost audible, his jaw ticking as he seethes out a very reluctant, “Hyung.” As he speaks, Jimin feels another tug on his spiritual energy as Yoongi tries to resist the talisman. 

Jimin claps in delight. “Very good, wangja-nim! Was that so hard?”

Yoongi huffs at him and looks away again. His ears are still very red. Jimin has the urge to stroke the graceful curve of Yoongi’s ear, but restrains himself, if only barely. Instead, he places his hand on Yoongi’s tense forearm to assess the state of the talisman. 

“I don’t think this will be wearing off anytime soon,” Jimin says. He probably should have thought of a way to counter the talisman when he designed it, but he assumed it would deactivate much quicker. By his estimate, the talisman will wear off in a few hours, which obviously isn’t fast enough. A bit hesitantly, he says, “You might as well stay here for the night. Just in case.”

Yoongi stills even more, if possible. He might even stop breathing for a few moments. “Very well,” he agrees eventually. If he had refused, Jimin would have thought of something for the talisman, surely, but it’s much easier that Yoongi is cooperating with this little accident. 

Jimin bounds up, gesturing to his unmade bed. “You can have my bed! Come and lay down,” he tells Yoongi, quickly brushing off the sheets. Yoongi follows his instructions woodenly, sitting down on the bed first and then laying down on his back, arms at his sides. Jimin stares down at him, arms crossed over his chest, and wrinkles his nose. “Is this how you usually sleep?”

“Yes.”

“You sleep like a corpse, then,” Jimin tells him bluntly, and Yoongi manages to roll his eyes. 

Studying the older boy more intently, it occurs to Jimin that it must not be very comfortable to sleep with such a complicated hair arrangement. As always, Yoongi’s hair is fixed with the sheer white tiger manggeon, flawless sangtu, and an ornamental sangtuwan, all of which must be pulling at his hair. Jimin’s scalp aches in sympathy. He usually sleeps with his hair free and he knows Jeongguk binds his hair into a braid for the sake of comfort. Jimin got Yoongi into this predicament, so it’s the least he can do to alleviate some discomfort. 

“Here, let me help you get more comfortable,” he says, starting with Yoongi’s boots. The boots come off easily, revealing spotless white silk socks. Deciding against messing with Yoongi’s hanbok, which seems comfortable enough even with the belt around his waist, Jimin next removes Gwangtaeg and places the sword next to Yoongi on the bed. Then Jimin turns his attention to Yoongi’s hair, pulling out the silver hairpin and taking off the sangtuwan. 

Yoongi is silent through all of this, his golden eyes following Jimin’s movements intently. But when Jimin’s fingers graze over the ties that hold the manggeon in place across Yoongi’s forehead, Yoongi is quick to flinch as much as he can. 

“Do not touch,” Yoongi warns with a fierce look in his eyes. 

Jimin frowns at him. “What? I’m trying to help,” he says, again nearly touching the white jade buttons that hold the manggeon in place.

But Yoongi flinches again, and this tugs very sharply on Jimin’s spiritual energy that is still fueling the talisman. “You cannot touch,” Yoongi snaps. 

Jimin is absolutely baffled. “Why not? Is it bad luck if I do?”

Yoongi’s eyes flash. “Do you not know? You copied Conduct so many times.”

Jimin pulls at his lower lip in thought. “Something about this is in Conduct ? Does your clan even have rules about accessories like this? Huh. You know, I don’t really remember,” he admits with an easy smile. “But it can’t be that important!”

Yoongi releases a low breath that is somehow vaguely threatening. “You cannot touch,” he says again. “Only parents, siblings, spouses, and children are allowed to touch the manggeon.”

Now, Jimin is truly perplexed. He drops down to the floor so he isn’t awkwardly standing over Yoongi, who is still rather immobile. Jimin leans up against the side of the bed and shakes his head. “Only family can touch it? Why ?”

“The manggeon symbolizes restraint,” Yoongi answers tersely. “Horangi disciples are given a manggeon, which we then imbue with our spiritual energy and which we wear to remember the disciplines of the sect.”

“I guess you’d need a reminder when you have three thousand rules to follow,” Jimin mutters. “Are you really going to sleep in that, though? I can just take it off really quickly. I won’t tell anyone, I promise!”

“No,” Yoongi denies. “You are not my spouse.”

Jimin lifts both brows. “Wait, then you want to have a spouse someday?” he asks with obvious surprise. He didn’t peg Yoongi as someone who would want to be married. Being married means loving someone a lot, and Jimin is pretty sure Yoongi only tolerates most people. He can’t fathom Yoongi liking someone enough to marry them. 

Actually, the thought is a little funny. What would Yoongi’s wife be like? Probably as cold and perfect as he is, and then they could have cold, perfect children, ideal little disciples for the Horangi Sect. But, would any woman want to put up with someone as frigid as Yoongi? Jimin thinks Yoongi’s coolness is interesting, but women typically like the gallant, friendly sort of fellow, which Yoongi most definitely is not.

Jimin can’t help but laugh. “You want a spouse! But Yoong-hyung, while you’re a great cultivator, you’re a bit too cold for a maiden!” he claims, nearly missing the way Yoongi’s gaze becomes a shade frostier. He clucks his tongue. “You have to admit that you would scare a girl too much. Is your father as stern as you? Your poor mother must be-”

“No mother,” Yoongi says icily. 

Jimin pauses, furrowing his brows. “What? Of course, you have a mother. You might be perfect, but you didn’t just pop into existence….Oh.”

Oh no. 

Jimin slaps a hand over his mouth, patting his lips as if he can stuff the insensitive words back into his mouth. He feels a deep pang of guilt. “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry,” he whispers. “I should know better than anyone to be so thoughtless about…

Yoongi doesn’t say anything. His flinty feline gaze is trained on the wooden beams on the ceiling, and even with the talisman keeping him immobile, there is something very tense about his body. 

“I don’t have any parents either,” Jimin blurts. “I mean, I do. But they aren’t…alive anymore. A nighthunt gone wrong a long time ago. It’s why I’m a ward of the Jeon family. My father was a sworn brother to Sect Leader Jeon, so…here I am.”

Yoongi sighs, his eyes fluttering closed. “I see.”

Jimin feels awfully flustered and wrong-footed - a very rare experience, given his general lack of shame - so he stands up and pulls the duvet over Yoongi’s prone body. He tucks Yoongi in tightly to keep the cold air away, then stands over the older boy, who watches him with an unnerving, silent gaze. 

Jimin rocks back and forth on his feet. “I think it’s bedtime for all good Horangi disciples. Even me! I’ll see you in the morning, hyung,” he says, narrowly avoiding tripping over the mess on the floor as he dives into Jeongguk’s bed. 

Jimin can only assume that Jeongguk has done the smart thing by staying with Taehyung and Eunwoo for the night, so he won’t mind if Jimin borrows his bed. Jimin, having already been dressed down to a casual hanbok of deep blue, doesn’t bother with changing into sleepwear, either. He merely pulls the duvet over his head and tries very hard to go to sleep, doing his best to ignore the weighty presence on the other side of the room. 

For someone who doesn’t talk a whole lot, Min Yoongi’s silence conveys a thousand words. 

When Jimin wakes in the morning, Yoongi is gone. The talisman must have worn off sometime during the night. Jimin wishes he thought to time how long the talisman remained active, but he supposes he’ll have to do better testing in the future. For now, all of his attention is on the even-paced knocks at his door, which is what woke him from a rather restless slumber.

Jimin stumbles over to the door, sliding it open to reveal a senior Horangi disciple on the other side. The disciple’s eyes slide to the messy room over Jimin’s shoulder, lips thinning in apparent displeasure. 

Jimin titters a little nervously. “Can I help you?”

“You will report for punishment immediately,” the disciple says. “I will escort you there. Please make yourself decent.”

“Great,” Jimin says faintly. He slides the door closed, then leans his forehead against the rice paper screen. He almost can’t believe it, but it seems to be the case that Min Yoongi woke up and immediately reported Jimin’s misdeeds. Any other time, Jimin might laugh about that level of persistence, but it’s too early - just barely past five, probably. 

Jimin haphazardly slips into the white Horangi guest disciple hanbok, tying up his hair in a loose topknot. He’s still wiping sleep out of his eyes as he stumbles after the senior Horangi disciple, following the disciple blindly into a somewhat crowded courtyard. 

Jimin pauses at the entrance of the courtyard. The building is in the innermost sanctum of Horangi Recesses and there are a dozen disciples holding long wooden paddles lined up on either side of the walkway. At the other end of the courtyard, Min Chunghee and Min Jinwoong stand side-by-side, while at the center of the walkway, four people are kneeling - Jeongguk, Taehyung, Eunwoo, and Yoongi. 

Jimin’s eyes widen. Why does it look like Yoongi is going to be punished, too?

“Kneel!” Min Jinwoong barks and Jimin hastens to comply. He ends up kneeling right beside Yoongi, his knees pressing into the unforgiving stone walkway. Min Jinwoong seems mad enough that even his beard is trembling. 

“Now that you’re all here, we can deliver the punishment for the infractions that occurred last night,” Min Chunghee says gravely. His eyes pass over his brother and linger for only a moment before he forges on; Yoongi, for his part, stares straight ahead. “For breaking our rules pertaining to alcohol consumption, illicit reading material, staying awake past curfew, and noise after curfew, you will each receive one hundred strikes of the discipline rod. Jimin, as you have been identified as the one who brought alcohol into Horangi Recesses, you will receive an additional two hundred strikes since this is your second violation of this rule. Yoongi, you will also receive two hundred additional strikes for your participation -”

“What?” Jimin bleats. “Wait, wait! Yoongi-hyung shouldn’t be punished! He came to break up our party, he didn’t-”

“Yoongi imbibed alcohol.” Chunghee interrupts, the edges of his serene facade curling. “As the heir of this sect, he understands the standards that must be upheld, even under pressure.”

“But it wasn’t peer pressure!” Jimin protests. “I made him drink! I made him! I have a talisman and I used it on Yoongi-hyung, so it wasn’t his choice! I should be punished instead! Yoongi-hyung, tell them!”

Yoongi bows his head gracefully. “I will receive my punishment without protest.”

“Yoongi-hyung! Are you crazy? You can’t take three hundred strikes for a punishment you didn’t earn! Please,” Jimin says, turning to Chunghee and Jinwoong. “Please, let me take hyung’s punishment. It’s my fault!”

“Hyung,” Jeongguk hisses. “Be quiet!”

“Please!” Jimin says, ignoring his brother completely. “Really, Yoongi-hyung doesn’t deserve-”

“Park Jimin!” Jinwoong yells. “Have you not caused enough trouble? Who are you to interfere with punishments laid out by a Sect Leader? Yoongi is the head of discipline for this sect and agreed these punishments were appropriate!”

Jimin balks at this, because Yoongi did what? He agreed to this punishment ahead of time? “But it’s my fault!” Jimin exclaims again. His next words are sealed by Min Jinwoong’s silence spell, which clamps Jimin’s jaw tightly.

“Just as unruly as his mother,” Jinwoong mutters, his glare as frosty as the snow atop the mountain. 

Jimin’s eyes widen. Did Jinwoong know his mother? Nobody really talks about Wanderer Yon to him, especially not anywhere Madam Jeon can hear, and he never would have expected Min Jinwoong, of all people, to mention her. Did she study here? Did they nighthunt together? He has so many questions burning on his tongue, but magic has sealed his voice - and he doubts Jinwoong would want to discuss anything with him at the moment. 

The first strike of the discipline rod hurts. There’s no getting around the heavy weight of the wood or the strength behind the strikes. But the Horangi disciples delivering the punishment are well-trained because the strikes are well-delivered in different places, no two hits stacked immediately on top of the other. It’s more than can be said for Madam Jeon’s whipping, which carelessly hit the same area over and over just to cut deeper into his back. 

Jimin grunts and nearly loses his balance on his knees as the count rises closer to fifty. The disciples rotate so as to avoid growing tired and the new strength sends Taehyung onto his stomach. Even Jeongguk and Eunwoo are faltering under the unforgiving cadence of the strikes.