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Jihoon is running for his goddamn life.
“Why did we take this commission again?!”
Jaehyuk’s wheezing resounds crisply from the front of the bumbling party. In the rear, Jihoon is acutely aware that Minkyu is running out of spells in that handbook for wizardry the mage has on his person. Jihoon would be making fun of the tattered little thing if it weren’t for the magma beetles skittering after them.
“For money obviously!” Giin angrily replies, swinging an axe twice his size to the shackled gate up front. The warrior is not amused in the slightest. “I told all of you that we should’ve taken the smithy commission to earn money without a sweat!”
“And suffer in awkward silence?!” Jaehyuk yells back, quadruple times more aggrieved than the rest combined. “I’d rather you make me explore the catacombs in the north than whatever’s happening in the smithy!”
Geonbu throws a side-eyed glance to Jihoon.
“What?” Jihoon finds his mouth moving. Snappy. More tense than usual. “Got something to add, Geonbu?”
Geonbu returns his attention to the front. “Nothing. Just thinking.” He mutters, reply easing into safe neutrality despite the obvious look Jihoon was receiving moments before.
That’s a lie, Jihoon knows it is, but he doesn’t press any further because they’re busy escaping the first level of the autumnal dungeon. Emphasis on first and autumnal, he really isn’t going to be paid enough for this isn’t he?
“That’s the twelfth gate this week. Are guys sure you aren’t trying to destroy all the fortification magic the guild’s been putting up?”
Their party is mostly (unfortunately, Giin mutters) alive. Save for maybe the cindered edges of Minkyu’s robes, the crumbled remains of Giin’s axe, and Jaehyuk’s missing glasses, all is well within the party. This is what Jihoon would love to insist on, if it weren’t for the fact that it’s Hyeonjun in today’s dungeon’s post.
Not Hyeon-joon. It’s Hyeon-jun. The bulkier, less astute between the two.
“We weren’t trying to.” Jihoon glares at Jaehyuk. Something the human pointedly ignores. “Honest to the goddess, we didn’t know there were new spells in place.”
Hyeonjun glances up from the parchment in hand. “Hyung, you guys destroyed ten gates in the time I’m not in this post. Ten gates. Do you know how many mob swarms it takes for that to happen?”
“Fifty.” Giin says knowingly.
Hyeonjun points the parchment. “Exactly. It takes fifty mob swarms from down there to destroy everything up here. But fifty swarms don’t just happen on a random week in October! This calls for intervention from the head. I need to report this to the head.”
Someone winces in the background. Jihoon’s going to pummel whoever made that sound.
“You wouldn’t.” Jaehyuk’s voice becomes strained.
“I need to. Sanghyeok-hyung already has his hands full with duties and…” Hyeonjun’s eyes twitch at the sight of Jihoon. “Yeah. Whatever. I’ll just write you guys a penalty fee and you can pay it up front in the lobby. Look for Minseok, he’s in the leftmost window with that large dinosaur sticker on the glass.”
“I know that.” Jaehyuk hisses, pointedly looking at Jihoon as he snatches the ticket. “You’d think being an uncle requires a lot of brain power for people like us.”
Hyeonjun frowns. “People like us? Talk to Minseok before accusing me of that hyung.”
Predictably, Minseok is pissed off the moment their party trudges into the grand area of the smithy. If Jihoon were to shoot himself into the hole in the ceiling, would it be possible to not die in the hands of a pixie? Sometimes he wonders if being an adventurer was all worth it if he was just going to be slandered like this.
“Again?” Minseok’s voice is scarily calm for once. “You guys are single-handedly supporting the guild, hyung.”
Jaehyuk rests his elbow on the counter as they’re nagged. Nearby, the rest of them (including Jihoon) have squished themselves into one of the couches; it’s one of the newer orders from last week if he were to recall correctly. Honestly, if Geonbu doesn’t stop throwing glances in Jihoon’s way, he’s about to burn the whole place down with a fraction of his dragon’s breath.
“Tell me about it. I’m stuck with a dwarf that blindly swings his axe into solid walls, a newly graduated mage from that posh academy in the South, a polar bear from the frigid North, and don’t get me started on the dragon.” Jaehyuk turns to Jihoon. “No offense. Dragons have never really kept up a nice appearance in council meetings.”
Minseok barely glances at the archer. “Hyung, dragons don’t exist.” A plastic smile. “Especially one that goes by the horrid name of Jeong Jihoon. You know, I recently heard that the name can be compared to Hurk the Terrible for worst dragon of the year, by the way.”
“Oh, is that so? Jihoon-ah, you seem to actually have competition!” Jaehyuk hollers.
Jihoon isn’t sure if he’s supposed to be amused or offended, or both.
The pixie swipes the gold coins Jaehyuk’s placed on the counter and breezily takes 40% of their earnings. For someone that used to make the royal council tremble with a swish of his quill, seeing Minseok designate himself as a humble cash registrar is jarring.
Not that Jihoon is any better.
“Lizard fiend.”
Jihoon’s singular eyebrow raises. “Not you too?”
Minseok doesn’t react, doesn’t give the pleasure of looking irked. The pixie simply pokes the end of his trusty quill to the ornate wooden doors standing proudly on the second floor. Since the guild and smithy are found in an elder tree, Jihoon isn’t surprised that a chilly draft floats from the ceiling, signaling his impending doom.
“Past glories and achievements can’t stop me from judging you, adventurer. Or do you want me to address you how an officer would to their marshal?” Minseok isn’t amused. “He’s waiting for you. Just let yourself in and please don’t drag your boots on the carpet. They’re new.”
“You don’t need to say anything else!”
Jihoon springs from between his party members. Said members topple backwards and watch as Jihoon proudly stalks up the stairs and disappears behind the doors in one fluid movement. If someone were to ask for their opinion, they’d all say the same thing.
That dragons are rather… yes.
When Jihoon walks in, you see, he’s met with a familiar glass ceiling, a familiar desk, and most importantly a familiar face he hasn’t seen since yesterday morning. There’s a neat stack of papers near the tip of their moving pen, and a familiar quilt is resting on the other person’s shoulders. Somewhere, Jihoon shifts to look for a bassinet tucked safely near the fireplace.
“Your mother picked them up earlier.” Even, delicate, and not upset. The tip of the fairy’s quill dips into ink for another document to be signed. “Not Seo-Ah though. Your sons are insistent that their baby sister stays wrapped in those furs you hunted last summer.”
Jihoon’s wings perk up.
“Are they to our daughter’s liking…” Jihoon starts, eyes trained on the poised figure. “... Sanghyeok-hyung?”
Sanghyeok is a name that many know as the king of the kingdom’s most flourishing season. But the fairy, in recent seasons, doesn’t like being referred to as such.
This is because Sanghyeok is now simply a guild head that occupies the second floor of the elder tree. He likes taking his tea in the morning, carrying a book in his hand on his walks, or bending down to listen to stories from happy dragonlings that suspiciously look like Jihoon.
Along with this, Sanghyeok’s smile is lovely. It curls on the edges. The type of smile that has Jihoon clutching his chest in pain.
A dragon dying due to how a fairy’s eyes would wrinkle, followed by a laugh of amusement, is a headline that would make it into next month’s paper. Since most papers usually frame the king and his marshal with gossip, their retirement didn’t stop them from being framed even further; they used to be on the fourth page, they’ve been bumped to first since their wedding.
Sanghyeok’s wings flutter, fairy dust spreading softly. “Our daughter loves anything her father gives her. Even when it’s in lieu of giving her wings quality warmers for the winter.”
“You’d be surprised how fierce people are when it comes to wool.”
“I’m well aware. We’ve lost this war for how many years already, Jihoon. Though our Seo-Ah’s wings are nothing for us to scoff about,” Sanghyeok’s becomes characteristically serious. “I can’t help but worry that she lacks in the department of what most would deem well cared for. We look like a laughing stock for our enemies in the South.”
“Laughing stock? Did Hyeonjoon-hyung tell you something about his travels again?”
“Nothing. Minhyung has just been complaining about the trivialities of the court again. Us included in their usual gossip.” Sanghyeok sets his quill down after the twelfth signature. “The day the court stops talking about the star marshal seducing the king with his flight patterns will be the day I’ll get my fourth pair poof onto my back.”
Jihoon remembers an old memory when he was just a hatchling, how Sanghyeok fought three wars for his first and second set of wings. The then king would go on to add five wars, three treaties, and two changes in court in the vain attempt to evoke his third.
A fairies pride and joy are their wings, so most expected the king to have this in the bag.
Sanghyeok did not have it in the bag.
He was ridiculed on the front page for the years following his failed attempts. Because if being king meant having the kingdom’s eyes focused on your movement, then it only got worse when the invention of crystalline flatscreen projections were spread across the land.
Only when Jihoon had cornered the king after their horse riding lessons, the rising star officer professed his love with bullets of sweat running down his face, was when Sanghyeok’s third set poofed after they kissed. In his shock, Jihoon was shoved into a haystack, startling the horses, and the king ran away in a frenzy.
Sanghyeok had won in all wars except for love and Jihoon was the solution that unknowingly barged into his life.
Jihoon’s back straightens, thumbs twiddling at the memory. “Do you think your fourth is something that has to do with our love again?”
The fairy blinks incredulously at him. Sanghyeok then makes a face, the type of face Jihoon knows is a mix of judgment and apt amusement, before sighing into his palm.
“You’re too optimistic, dear. The fact that I received my third is a miracle in itself. Hoping for the goddess to shine on us again is already stretching it don’t you think? While I won’t protest fate, it’s hard to quantify that possibility. Plus our daughter…”
“You’re right. Our daughter received her second pair, so it sounds rude if we were to expect your fourth to naturally come.”
They simultaneously turn to the bassinet. And their baby, oblivious to most things from how good-natured she is despite being born to a dragon, continues to snooze cozily near the fire. Distantly, Jihoon wonders if he needs to do a fire resistance test on their youngest. He can only shake his head at the thought.
Sanghyeok suddenly rises from his seat, brushing past Jihoon, and carefully takes the child into his arms.
Seo-Ah innocently blinks, her pink wings fluttering in joy the moment she spots Jihoon. Sanghyeok mutters something in fairy, voice gentle and coaxing, before pressing a kiss into the bouncing curls on her forehead. Jihoon watches as all their daughter does is wiggle, hands grabbing for where he’s stood in anticipation.
“Her nap stopped. Must be because she smelled the scent of ash coming from you.” Sanghyeok’s lips are curled as he says this. “You recognized your father the moment he stepped into the room, hm… Seo-Ah?”
She babbles a reply, hand gently patting Sanghyeok’s cheek in confirmation. Jihoon, of course, watches this happen with pain in his chest.
Jihoon clears his throat. “Sorry. I burnt a few spiders before coming up.”
“Ah the dungeons… for the mithril vein I assume?” Sanghyeok fixes Seo-Ah to his hip. “Jihoon. You do know that the reason I kicked you out is because you and the twins ate the mithril vein I was planning to use for the coming ceremony, right? The mithril vein that’s conveniently underneath this, here, elder tree?”
Oh yeah… that part…
“I’ll find it tomorrow.”
Sanghyeok’s eyes sharpen.
“Later.”
The fairy smiles. “Good.” Sanghyeok moves to hold onto Jihoon’s bicep. “Now, let’s go to your mother’s. The twins have been spamming my crystal channel for updates if we’ve made up yet.”
Jihoon nervously asks. “Have we?”
“Do you not want to be on amicable terms until you find my new mithril vein?” Sanghyeok questions back.
Jihoon silently loops his arm around Sanghyeok’s waist in reply. His fingers knead into bone, grip too clampy and too nervous for someone that’s been married for some time already. The fairy’s wings, a deep scarlet red that fades into a cool cerulean blue, open fully from satisfaction.
“We should also stop by the market for more wool, lest the council start gossiping, only to badger us on returning again.” Sanghyeok tilts his head up, pressing a familiar kiss into the curve of his jaw. “What do you think, dear?”
“Okay.” Jihoon stutters. “Let’s go do some winter fittings for the kids after picking the twins up.”
Sangwook is squishing Jiwon when his crystal necklace flashes.
“A message from Mama!!” He gasps, scrambling upwards and eliciting a painful oof from his brother. He skillfully swipes magic to project it for both to see. “Wonnie, look! He sent a photo and wow! Seo-Ah looks so cute, doesn’t she?”
“Wookie, you’re killing me. I swear… oooh… I’m going to tell Mama that you ate the most mithril outta the three of us…” Jiwon wheezes. He is not dramatic, he will die because of his brother one day. He then turns to peer at the floating image. “Oh the autumn colors totally suit Seo-Ah’s pinkness!”
“Totally! It looks like Mama and Dada have made up too!” Sangwook furiously nods. “We need to show granny and gramps!!”
Sangwook drags Jiwon with him.
The headline in the coming morning is this.
‘Former Chief Marshal unable to find mithril vein… and right coat size for their youngest child.’
It’s new gossip and teasing that’ll plague Jihoon in the dungeons… but if his Sanghyeok looks so amused by it, then who is he to ruin the parade? (He’s going to eat the mithril vein underneath the publication company next. Mark his words.)