"What's with that shawl, by the way? Did you catch a cold?"

Luhan's hand flew up to the flowy piece of fabric he'd clumsily knotted around his neck.

"Just a bit of a scratchy throat, nothing to worry about," he said evasively. Yixing shot him a mildly dubious look, but let him be, and Luhan fled to the front of the store.

Yixing was the most benign person he had ever met, and Luhan had never done anything to break the trust between them. He probably thought that he was hiding love bites. Luhan wished that would be true - not only because love bites would suggest having a lover of any kind, but also because they'd feel less itchy. The marks hadn't changed over night, and no amount of makeup could even begin to cover them, so Luhan had hastily thrown on the only shawl he owned.

He leisurely cleaned up the counter, returning the brown glass bottles into their designated places.

The witch hadn't been around when he woke up, so Luhan had left like a forgotten bedmate, sneaking out and walking to his own home around dawn. As predicted, the streets waiting outside the witch's house were entirely different from the one they had ran down the day prior, so it took Luhan a good while to reorientate himself. He dimly wondered whether the entrance to the witch’s home wandered all the time and whether he’d even find it again on his own.

Now that he was surrounded by familiar, bottled plants, the distinct scent of dried chamomile clinging to everything, the previous day seemed like a horrible nightmare that paled in the daylight.

Early into the day, a little girl came to get the requested tea for her sick mother, and then an old lady showed up, asking for a tea soothing her rattling lungs. Luhan swiftly prepared everything, mixed dried roots and leaves, sprinkled flower petals and wrote labels, moving almost mechanically. Everything just seemed to move around him as he was distracted by his own thoughts.

He had associated with a witch. Technically, it was his duty to report him to the authorities. Even if the execution had been staged - which was a ridiculous thought - it was very obvious that this particular witch didn't work for the government. Luhan had only heard of the witches loyal to the government - people described them as eerily blank-faced, quiet people who appeared almost soulless. Yesterday's witch hadn't been very talkative, but he'd been oozing with character, a sharp smile dancing on his face as he toyed with the world around him.

He'd also saved him. After attacking him.

Luhan paused, absently staring at the bottle of dried primrose roots in his hand.

Had he really saved him? Could Luhan be sure of that? No, not yet.

He didn't have enough information to rat him out to the authorities, either, so it was alright if he didn't report him right away. That's what he told himself, at least.

What a coward he was.

Around his neck, the markings prickled almost tauntingly.

"Luhan? How much centaury do we still have?"

Grateful for the interruption, Luhan opened a cupboard to check.

"Lots. Why, what do you need it for?" he called out, way too loud as it turned out, with Yixing already standing next to him.

"A family of five have all got nasty stomach infections. Could you prepare some tea for them? The father's allergic to dandelion, but otherwise, you can get creative."

"Alright," Luhan hummed, already reaching for a variety of herbs typically used to calm the stomach. "When do we need it?"

"They'll come get it tomorrow morning. Thanks."

The bells announced a customer, and Luhan froze upon seeing the familiar face of the witch. He looked slightly different than the day before, his hair curly and messy, and his eyes only partly rimmed black. Without the black markings on his face, he looked like a fancy nobleman. 

They could proudly say that they had customers of all status and background, but people with clothing as fancy as him usually sent their servants to pick up the tea they mixed.

"Good afternoon, sir," Yixing greeted him politely, but Luhan could tell that he was confused, maybe even wary. It was understandable - everything about the witch was too pretty, too expensive, and too dangerous. Like a fox strolling into a henhouse.

"There you are," the witch said smoothly, smiling as if Luhan was an old friend of his. It was so well-executed that Luhan was tempted to let himself be fooled, to believe the warmth in the witch’s voice.

"I was wondering where you were. Must have slipped my mind that you're working today," he added as he leaned against the counter and glanced over the assortment of bottles and tools. "Did you prepare the tea I was asking for?"

Luhan blinked.

"The tea?" he asked, trying not to sound as helpless as he felt. The witch was wearing a long, dangly earring with a pretty, green gemstone that blinked in the light.

"Ah, you forgot after all. The tea to help with my scratchy throat, remember?"

The voice of the witch was soft and melodic, velvety almost, which entirely contradicted with his demand, but Luhan nodded, anyway.

"Sorry. I'll prepare it right away."

"You know each other?" Yixing asked, still polite, and still cautious.

"We're friends," he heard the witch reply as he methodically weighed a few leaves and roots.

"Oh. I didn't know that," Yixing commented noncommittally.

"We only met recently," the witch stated with natural ease, and Luhan felt nervous heat rise up his face.
“In the library,” he mumbled quickly, keeping his eyes on the tea, but the damage was already done.

"I came here to get him. You're not needed much longer, are you?"

It took Luhan a moment to realize that the question was aimed at him. When he did, he looked up at Yixing with a small, apologetic grimace. Technically, the store was still open for two more hours, and Yixing never knew when he was needed elsewhere...

"Don't forget about the custom orders we have," Yixing said gently, shooting him an imploring look. Luhan had known him for many years now and easily realized that he was giving him a choice.

"I can come in a little earlier tomorrow," Luhan offered, swiftly bagging the simple mixture of herbs under Yixing's attentive eyes.

"...Alright then," he relented, lightly placing his palm on Luhan's upper back. "You can leave for today. I trust you, Luhan. See you tomorrow."

Luhan smiled, feeling much better knowing that Yixing had his back at all times and was ready to protect him, even when a witch literally walked into their store to take him away. Not that he knew the person before them was meant to be executed a day prior.

Yixing went into the backroom, but not without throwing a last look and polite nod towards the witch, who responded in the same manner. The small smile made it seem like he was mocking Yixing.

"So, how much?" he then asked Luhan, who only barely kept an unintelligent response to himself.

"For what?" he asked instead.

"The tea," the witch simply hummed, and Luhan looked at the bag before him, waving him off.

"It's fine, don't worry about it," he mumbled as he swiftly cleaned his workspace. The characteristic clicking of money meeting the counter made him look up to see three aventurine coins.

"Is that enough?" the witch asked, still keeping up the noble facade, and Luhan relented.

"It is. Let me get the change-"

"Keep it. You won't be taking much longer, will you?"

So that was it - the witch was impatient.

"I'll be right there," Luhan sighed, shifting everything aside and grabbing his bag from the back room, not without sharing a last, reassuring look with Yixing.

The witch was already standing by the door, holding it open for him. Luhan wouldn't usually allow anyone but Yixing to hold doors for him but he didn't dare challenge the witch's pride. He was apparently annoyed already, for whatever reason, and it showed in the swift way he walked ahead, checking his pocket watch.

"Where are we going?" Luhan asked, silently glad that he had longer legs than the other, and could at least keep up with him in a dignified way. Like this, in broad daylight, it was obvious that the witch was at least half a head shorter than him, but Luhan had always known that physical broadness and height were insignificant factors when it came to someone’s presence. The witch had a pretty strong presence, radiating, really. Currently, he radiated annoyance. 

"Places," he replied curtly, and Luhan resisted the urge to roll his eyes.

For a dozen steps, it was silent.

"Why did you just leave this morning?"

Luhan blinked in confusion, keeping his eyes on the road ahead.

"Cause I had to go to work? I told you I got a job-"

"And how did you plan on finding the way back?" the witch interrupted him with a sharp glance. Luhan felt his cheeks heat up against his will.

"I remembered the street and house number."

"And you knew that would do it how exactly?"

He was right, of course, and Luhan had considered the apartment to move places again, but-

"Well, you weren't around this morning, and I didn't want to be late. How was I supposed to know when you'd get back, do I look like some sort of mind reader to you?" he asked back, a little too ticked off to stay fearful. The witch looked mildly taken aback, but then dropped the conversation with a small sigh. Luhan didn't feel like he was in the wrong - it had been awkward enough, waking up in a stranger's house and trying to find out whether the witch was home or not without potentially embarrassing himself.

They stopped in front of a store Luhan had never been to.

"Follow me, and don't speak unless I ask you to," the witch demanded curtly, but less aggressive than earlier. Before Luhan had even a chance to get nervous, they had entered what turned out to be the workshop of a blacksmith. Humid, greasy air hit him as soon as he crossed the threshold, making it hard to breathe, and the little forge was so cramped that it was hard to focus on anything for long enough to identify it.

A metallic clanking sound came to a halt, and then someone entered the store from the backyard. Someone tall and lanky, with a dirty pair of pants and a well-sculpted, greasy upper body suggesting that it was the resident smith who was shooting them such a blinding smile.

"Minseok, there you are," he boomed, leaning on the counter facing them. He looked youthful, with wide, shiny eyes, fiery red hair and an almost smug grin that had Luhan intuitively dropping his gaze to the counter. But the other had apparently not caught him staring at his exposed, sweaty body.

"Pretty, pretty," he commented, staring at the witch’s (Minseok's?) face. The ugly markings and rhombi had reappeared, looking as dark as they had the day before.

"Shut your mouth," Minseok snapped, and while it lacked murderous intent, there was definitely a venomous edge to it.

"Touchy, aren't we?" the smith hummed, completely unfazed, and only now did his eyes wander over to Luhan. "What, you’re resorting to escorts now? Didn't think you'd find Jongdae that unappealing-"

"I am not an ," Luhan cut him off unhappily, only to receive a withering glare by the witch. To demonstrate how little that fazed him, he held the smith’s gaze and stood his ground. He had no idea who this Jongdae was, but there were only a couple things that really managed to get to Luhan, and commenting on his dainty looks was the sure way to go.

"Is that so?" the smith asked, almost purred, and now Luhan regretted speaking up in the first place, because suddenly, the wide-eyed guy leaning into his vision didn't look all that harmless anymore.

"Then what reason could Minseok possibly have to bring you along? Last time I checked, he wasn't taking apprentices..."

Luhan stared at him defiantly, but he kept his mouth shut like the witch had initially told him to.

"Last time I checked, my private life was none of your ing business," Minseok replied in his stead. He managed to sound both angry and frigid at the same time, and it drove a pout to the smith's face, the strangely tense atmosphere broken within the blink of an eye.

"Fine, stay boring. It's not like it'll stay a secret forever," he said dismissively, leaning away and picking something off the shelf that he threw towards Minseok in an easy, predictable way. The other caught what turned out to be a dagger. Pulling it out of his sheath revealed a set of blue runes running down the blade, and now it was undeniable - the smith was a witch, too.

Luhan had somewhat known it right away, because something about the shop had felt strange to him, but the mere idea of a blacksmith being a witch just seemed so absurd that it was hard to believe.

"Happy?" the smith asked. It was obviously a rhetorical question. Minseok turned the dagger in his hands some more, scrutinizing it in a way that made Luhan wonder whether he truly knew what he was looking at and whether he was doing it on purpose, dragging out his approval like that.

Eventually, the dagger was sheathed though, and disappeared into one of Minseok's pockets.

"Looks good. How do you want to be paid?"

The smith shrugged.

"I'll let you know."

It seemed like the conversation had ended there, with Minseok nodding lightly, and turning away to leave the store. Luhan stumbled after him, belatedly turning to nod the smith goodbye as well. In the doorway, Minseok stopped.

"See you, Chanyeol," he announced, surprisingly earnest, for all the earlier bickering.

"Yeah, yeah, see you around," came the easy reply, and they stepped back into the crisp evening air, leaving the forge behind.

The moonlight was shining on Luhan's face as he stared at the wooden ceiling. Sleep refused to come, no matter how hard he tried to cajole his mind into giving up and resting. The winding mass of questions inside his head stayed active, refusing to calm down, or even better yet, fade from his mind for good.

He hadn't asked any of them out loud. It seemed futile. If the witch, no, Minseok, didn't speak up on his own volition, well, Luhan wouldn’t beg him for answers.

Heck, they hadn't even properly introduced themselves to each other. Just thinking about the fact that Minseok had somehow gotten him into this situation and was so nonchalant about it made Luhan mildly angry.

In his head, he went over the catalogue of questions he had, trying to determine which one had priority and would be worth trying to get an answer to.

What exactly had happened back at the square, and why had the demon latched on to him? What if Minseok lost control like that again? The markings were still pretty poignant, even though he was apparently able to hide them in public. He hadn’t been able to hide them inside the forge of the fellow witch though, which led to other questions. How many witches were in the capital? They'd been made out to be a general, looming threat, but if they could meet one of them so comfortably, it raised the question just how many of them were around, and whether they all hid behind inconspicuous daily lives. If so, what was Minseok's official occupation? His apartment was full of ancient-looking books, tools like knives and pots, and a waist-high cupboard made of drawers hid other peculiar objects but none of them hinted towards any kind of profession. Sure, he was a witch, but what did he do ? What did witches do, really?

And when the black markings on Luhan's throat eventually faded, what would happen to him? Now that he knew this much already, would they somehow make him forget?

With a groan, Luhan sat up, ruffling through his already messy hair.

He needed a glass of water. He needed a distraction, and his throat felt like sandpaper anyway.

Carefully, he peeked inside what he could only call a living room for lack of a better word. At the kitchen aisle, with his back to him, stood Minseok, chopping something, illuminated by nothing but the moonlight filtering in from above. The quiet, regular sounds of the knife meeting wood halted, and Luhan knew right away that he'd been caught.

"Sorry," Luhan muttered, barely above a whisper. "I just wanted to get some water."

Minseok looked at him over his shoulder, and making out his expression in the semi-darkness was impossible, but he subtly slid away from the tap, making room for him.

Relieved, Luhan walked over to him, bare feet soundless on the wooden floor. He took a cup of the shelf and filled it with water from a surprisingly luxurious-looking, clean sink, all the while peering over at what Minseok was doing.

He didn't know what he'd expected - insects or something bloody, maybe, but not a heap of ordinary-looking fruits. They were small and yellow, nothing he'd ever seen before, but they didn't look magical or dangerous in any way.

As he sipped his water, he watched Minseok carefully half them and place them aside. The other didn't seem to mind. When a handful of halved fruits began to pile up on the side of his wooden board, the knife was placed aside in favour of a teaspoon with a softly pointed tip. To unsuspecting people, the form would have reminded them of a tool to clean nails with, but Luhan knew right away what this was for.

He watched Minseok use the spoon’s handle to scrape out the inside of the tiny fruits. Maybe the silence had been a bit too comfortable, for he spoke up before he could really think it through.

"Would you like me to help? I can do this."

The look Minseok shot him was one of mild wariness, as if he expected Luhan to suddenly attack or sabotage him. Apparently, he found no such intent in his expression, and with the tiniest shrug, he offered him the spoon.

"Be careful, they break easily," was all he said, and Luhan hummed.

He ended up breaking a few shells, anyway, the insides clinging too hard to the outside to separate them without having it crumble. It was enough to give him a feeling for these foreign fruits though, and soon enough, he fell into a comfortable routine. It wasn't much different from preparing rose hip, and the moon light was bright enough to ease the process.

It went on like this for a while, with Luhan cleaning the fruits while Minseok cut them, eventually joining him. The comfortable routine eventually coaxed the exhaustion to the surface, and when the last clean shell landed in the bowl, Luhan's eyes were itching. It felt like he'd been standing there for at least an hour.

"I'll go to sleep first," he mumbled, placing the tool down. Just as he was about to rub his eyes, Minseok caught his wrist. It sent a weak spark of confused excitement down his spine, but the other had let go already.

"Wash your hands first," he said quietly.

Right. Of course. The fruits might be poisonous, or at the very least nothing to rub into his eyes.

He was already halfway back to his temporary bedroom when he heard the other call after him, almost too soft to be heard.

“Luhan, is it?”

He paused with a hand on the door frame, taking a second too long to reply. By the time he did, the other was looking at him already, and he really wished he could decipher his expression.

“Yeah?” he asked rather than stated, and Minseok gave him a curt nod.

“Sleep well.”

It was simple and almost casual but Luhan’s sleepy heart twinged, anyway.

"Thanks. Good night," he murmured, and as he got comfortable in the soft blankets, cheek mashed against the cool cushion, he faintly wondered when someone had last bid him a good night.