Time wasn’t relative to only a select few. He learned that early on. For many, time passed fleetingly and it was savoured as something that would never return. That was true. For them. They were all forced to hold on tight to what was gifted to them, because at any moment it could be taken back as if it was a mistake. It was a culture that he himself didn’t quite understand, as time had little effect on him. His kind was like them in a way. They were born, they grew, and then they stopped. Of course, time passed for them, but in a different, more manipulated way. They could be aged to whatever stage they chose. Their lives and their experiences were nothing. They could always go back to when they were younger, alter the way their bodies took form as they pleased.

 

That was just the way of the Shai.

 

As beings not at the mercy of time, they took their positions quite seriously. Because their population was few and far between, many of them were trained for specific tasks that would remain as their career for the rest of their lives. Meaning that they had an eternity to perfect what they had been assigned. More often than not, the common ones were given small tasks. Fix the small imperfections throughout various years in order to create a better outcome. They were to not interfere with any large, significant events. Such jobs were for the ones only affectionately known as ‘elders.’

 

Age was irrelevant to them, and if one called ‘Moros’ -- in a condescending way, of course -- were to ask a Shai when they had been born, it was custom to give them a believable date and time of their birth, for they had no real ‘birthday,’ as they were called. They lived in a plane of existence where time did nothing to them. To be born was simply to just begin to exist. They had no memories of when they simply weren’t because there was no written history. One of the elders -- the one with the greyest, longest beard, as that was a sign of status amongst the Shai -- could recite every thing that had happened since The Beginning. His name was Yongnian, and he was strict. He chose to present himself in the way of a feudal Chinese emperor. He always wore the finest silks and his long grey hair always billowed around him in a saintly sort of way. The only reason one would go to see him is if they were receiving important orders, or they were being punished for deeds against the Shai.

 

There was a clear hierarchy amongst them, and Yongnian had put himself at the top of the pyramid. At the very bottom was Junhong. He was considered simple-minded and virtually worthless. His appearance was that of -- what the Moros called it -- a teenager. While most chose matured and older-looking bodies, he preferred the appearance of mortal youth. It was a look that seemed to resonate within him, as if that, above all others, was his true form. Many of the Shai believed that they were Moros in the past, and that the higher powers of the universe had gifted them with a second chance for whatever good deeds they had done in their past lives. Junhong believed it, too. It was something to cling to, at the very least.

 

As customary with those located in the lowest class, they had the least meaningful jobs. Junhong was no exception. His job, as was many other’s in his position, was to alter small happenings in the Moros’ world. It really wasn’t anything to write home about. He would persuade a passerby to do something slightly different than was previously done, move a vase slightly to the left, or even add just a bit more sugar to a recipe than was required. Junhong, as loyal as he was to his elders, was quite wary of these simplistic tasks. He believed that they were only assigned just to keep his class busy and out of trouble. It was something that he was largely opposed to, but there was no way he would disobey those that were more powerful than him. He had been conditioned to fear Yongnian and his subordinates as well as the immense, unimaginable power that they held.

 

So he did them nonetheless.

 

His most recent task was to visit New York in the year of 1994 in order to take one of the bullets out of a gun that would be used in a murder-suicide in a little apartment outside the capital city. It wasn’t something that he wanted to do, as he was opposed to the violence that Moros tended to get themselves involved in, but if he didn’t complete the task given, it would spell grave consequences for him. Who knows, perhaps removing that one bullet would save Lynn Taylor from her husband’s drug-induced wrath. He could only hope.

 

Before going back to receive his next assignment, Junhong always wandered around the time he was in. Each year was different, and held different sights and people. It was different from where the Shai resided. Everything was always the same, never changing as he flitted between planes of existence. At least with the Moros, he could watch as each and every person changed as every second passed by them. He was enchanted by it.

 

Junhong couldn't remember the last time he was in New York. It had to be more than ten assignments ago. Last assignment he was in Egypt, fiddling with some of the inner workings of their economy in the sixties. It was an unusually large assignment for someone like him, but he couldn’t complain. Egypt was beautiful. It held the history that he longed for and the fantastic, gorgeous sands that he could only dream about. Structures built by the Moros were large, impressive and they survived many lifetimes. Junhong couldn’t understand just why the Shai thought so lowly of the Moros. They accomplished wonderful and amazing feats in such little amounts of time. They were such intriguing creatures, yet the Shai spoke of them with great distaste.

 

In all honestly, Junhong loved the Moros. He disliked the war and the violence that they often participated in, but it was true that every species had their downfalls. More than anything, they were fragile beings. Taken captive by the flowing, unforgiving hands of time. They knew of their limited time in their world, yet they didn’t get deterred. They carried on with their lives and achieved marvelous things. In a way, Junhong was envious of them. He had to survive and eternity whilst the Moros lead amazing lives in such a short amount of time. While he accomplished nothing in the forever that he had been given, they did amazing, fulfilling things. Oh, did he wish to be one of them.

 

That particular dreary night in November of 1994, however, Junhong learned of another one of the Moros’ cruelties. It wasn’t just war that plagued their history, but Junhong and those of his class were kept so naive that they knew not of the horrors of the other world until they witnessed them personally.

 

Junhong had first noticed a single window was illuminated with a soft yellow glow. It was the only window that was alight amongst several hundred that lay in the side of an apartment building just off of the main street. Curiously, Junhong quietly slipped through the front door of the building behind one of the residents. He made his way to one of the highest floors, making sure he had counted the windows before he actually entered the place. When he reached the ninth floor, after quite a trek, he stopped at the fifth door on the left, just as he had counted. He tried the doorknob, hoping that it was unlocked, but luck never did seem to swing in his direction. There had to be another way, and, of course, there was.

 

Shai, even the lowest castes of them, always carried a universal key. It was one of Yongnian’s ingenious inventions. He was famed for his handy innovations that furthered his species’ cause of ‘fixing’ the imperfections within the Moros’ history. The universal key was just amongst the hundreds of things that Yongnian created since his existence came to be. There were others, more complicated and useful that higher classes used for tinkering with time, but Junhong had never even bore witness to them. All he had was a little golden key strung around his neck and honestly, that was more than enough for him. His intentions weren’t to tamper, but to explore.

 

Taking the key out from beneath the collar of his cotton shirt, he stuck it into the keyhole on the door’s knob and watched it glow and take form to match the inside of the lock. There was a click when he turned the key, and he removed it from the hole and opened the door. A meek little apartment stood before him. A cheap, ripped up sofa, bottles of beer and glasses that held wine were littered across the coffee table and the floors and even on the counter of the kitchen. As Junhong stepped further into the apartment, he closed the door softly behind him. Light spilled from beneath a door on the left and something that sounded rather… Violent resounded from within.

 

Junhong hesitated, wondering if it was really his place to be sneaking into someone’s home and invading their privacy. Despite the fact that he was a Shai and his people thought that they had every right to do things like this, apart of him still felt like it was wrong.

 

He shook his head, turning around to leave when a strangled scream emanated from behind the door. All remorse left his mind as he quickly rushed towards the door. Without the slightest regard for the possible trouble he could get in he turned the brass knob and opened it. What he saw was nothing that he ever could have been prepared for.

 

A Moros, no, a human was being held up by the hem of his nightshirt. There was another larger, angrier one holding him up. The smaller one was bruised, battered, and beaten. His eyes widened as the large human turned around. Junhong stumbled back in fear, but something else took over his senses. It was the pure need to just help. The dread that was in the young human’s eyes was more than he could bear to see. His legs were shaking as he stood, but his fists were clenched in a firm resolve.

 

“How did you get in here? What do you want?” The sizable human boomed in a thick, deep top before tossing the other to the side.

 

Junhong didn’t, rather, couldn’t respond. His jaw was held tightly shut in what could only be labelled as hesitance, trepidation. Instead of talking it out, he rushed at the human in front of him, tackling to him to the floor. The amount of ease it took to force such a large being to the ground surprised even Junhong. He had never seen himself wield such strength before.

 

With a grunt, the human was on top of him. Junhong felt the breath get knocked out him, and couldn’t truly process what was going on. It was all too quick. His mind couldn’t catch up with the present. Finally, though, the pain set in and a burst of adrenaline began to flow through his veins. There was no way he would lose. Someone was depending on him, and he wouldn’t let that young human get hurt again. As much as he opposed violence, he couldn’t think of any other way to settle the situation. So, with his eyes squeezed shut, he forced his knee up and into the groin of the larger human. It worked in all of the Moros movies that he had seen -- the Shai weren’t particularly fond of entertainment; just work -- so he thought he’d try it.

 

It yielded much better results than he had anticipated.

 

There was a loud yell, and when Junhong opened his eyes, there was no longer anyone hovering above him. Instead, his opponent was doubling back in pain before him. Seeing the opportunity that had arisen, Junhong scanned the room for the younger, much smaller human. Once spotting him huddled beneath an old wooden desk that had been pushed against the wall, he rushed to grab hold of his wrist and pull him out from the small space. He didn’t even fight back, just hid his face and pleaded Junhong not to hurt him.

 

“We need to leave,” Junhong said urgently, watching as the second human in the room struggled to get to his feet. “I can help you.”
 

Without another word, they were off, maneuvering throughout the throng of broken glasses that littered the floor. Unfortunately, the other had made it to the front of the door before them and blocked it with his huge, lumbering form. A beer gut was spilling out from beneath his stained white undershirt, and the look of twisted anger on his face was absolutely fear-instilling. The smaller human was pulled from his grasp and put in what was called among them a choke-hold.

 

Without any control over himself, Junhong used all his might to yell, “Put him down!”

 

A smirk grew on the maniacal one’s face before he slammed the smallest occupant of the room to the ground as hard as he could. At first, Junhong was too stunned to act. However, before long, he was flinging himself at the larger human and trying his best to take him down. His strength was rather lackluster, though, and it wasn't really something he'd brag about, so he was easily overpowered and forced to the floor. It hurt to have the side of his face ground into the scratchy carpet floor, and even as he struggled he couldn't get free. There was no ‘fight or flight’ instinct within him, and therefore there was no last minute burst of energy to overpower the one above him. He felt… Disappointed in himself. He'd intruded out of curiosity and fought to help, but he couldn't even achieve the goal he'd set for himself. Yongnian and the higher-ups were right. He really was nothing. He deserved to be the lowest class, as all he seemed to do was mess things up.

 

Just as Junhong was giving in to increasing pressure on his head, a resounding smash reverberated off of the walls around him and the human that was torturing him fell to the side, alleviating the pain almost instantly. Though he struggled to sit up afterwards, it seemed that he was alright. When he turned, the smaller human had one of the many bottles littered around the apartment in his hands. The bottom half of it was missing, and there were shards of the same colour decorating the floor. Almost immediately, Junhong realized what happened.

 

“Are you… You’re okay, right?” The human sputtered, gripping the neck of the broken bottle tighter. Perhaps it was out of fear, or perhaps it was out of regret.
 

With a nod, Junhong tore the bottle out of the other’s hand. The little human flinched, but all Junhong did was toss the thing to the side. “You are alright as well?”

 

There was a small, “Yes,” in response, which made a smile grow on Junhong's lips. There was a new feeling blooming in the pit of his stomach. It was a warm, fulfilling one. He'd actually… Helped someone. None of his assignments had ever told him to help his targets. As little interference as possible, was always the rule, yet here he was, interfering far more than he should have, but saving someone. He stuck out his hand, something he'd seen countless humans do. “I am Junhong.”

 

“Jongup,” the little human responded as he took Junhong’s hand with a soft, gentle touch. “How did you get in here?”

 

Before Junhong could reply, he remembered what the elders had told his class of people before they all went on their first assignment. “The last and most crucial rule, with the most dire of consequences,” Yongnian had said, his deep, scratchy voice booming off of the high walls of the meeting hall. “Do not, under any circumstances reveal your intentions or your identity. If any Moros is to find out about our race, they will not be quiet. That is just how they are. Do not trust them.”

 

“The door was unlocked. I heard something and it worried me, so I wanted to make sure everything was okay.” He said with a nod, deciding that to be his story. It wasn’t the largest lie that he had told.

 

A sheepish smile grew on Jongup’s face as he looked down at his bare feet. “Thank you, Junhong, for saving me. No one’s ever done that before.”

 

The only thing that Junhong could think to do was pull the other boy into a hug, so he did. He’d never been hugged before, but had seen many humans do so as a way of affection as well as gratitude. It was nice, he’d decided, to have someone’s arms wrapped around him and be held in a warm embrace.

 

“You’re safe, now.” He whispered into Jongup’s shoulder. Outside of the open window in the living room sounded the soft shrieks of police sirens. It seemed as if a neighbour had called the authorities after hearing the conflict that had happened, judging by how close the shrills were getting. Apartment building walls were thin, or so Junhong had heard from various movies.

 

“You should go,” Jongup sighed, letting go of Junhong and standing back. “They’re going to think that you did this.” He gestured to the seemingly unconscious man on the ground as well as the entirety of the living room.

 

Junhong frowned, but he did agree. If he didn’t return home soon, then he would get in trouble. “Will you be okay?” He asked, worrying his lower lip with his teeth.

 

The other nodded, kicking aside some of the glass shards spread across the carpet so that he could step away from the door. “I think that something good will come from this.” He nodded once more, as if agreeing with himself.

 

With one last look to the bruises forming on Jongup’s face, Junhong sighed and nodded as well. As he opened the door and stepped over the threshold he turned back to face the little human. “It was nice to meet you. You seem like a really nice person.”

 

“Will I… Will I see you again? Is there any way I can contact you after this?” Jongup suddenly stumbled closer, his eyes wide.

 

Junhong looked into the poorly lit hallway and to the lights buzzing overhead. “No, I’m sorry. I’m not really supposed to be here, anyway.”

 

“Ah, alright,” he watched as Jongup’s face fell and his voice became quieter. “Thank you again, really. I’ll remember this, I’ll remember you, for the rest of my life.”

 

He smiled softly, refusing to acknowledge the tears prickling at the back of his eyes. “I will, too, Jongup. I hope that things go better for you from here on out.”

 

“Thank you,” Jongup looked a bit sad to see him go, but even despite that there was a smile on his lips. He looked truly relieved, and it was a sight that Junhong wouldn’t mind seeing again.

 

With one last long look at what he had done and who he had helped, he turned and began making his way down the long stretch of hallway, opting to go through the emergency exit so as to avoid the authorities that were no doubt already on their way up. There was a last remark from Jongup, called back from down the hall and it made the smile on Junhong’s face grow. It echoed through his head as he made his way to the transfer point, and sounded as if Jongup was right next to him, telling him over and over.

 

“I hope I see you again.”