Junae didn’t believe in magic.

Optical illusions and psychological processes, yes, but the stuff of fairytales and fantasy?  The supernatural?  The mystical?  No, no, and thank you, but no.

It was rather ironic, if she stopped to think about it.  A magician’s assistant who didn’t believe in the art?  But perhaps her very occupation had been the key to her skepticism, as she was sure it was for many others like herself.  Insight of all the tricks and secrets of the trade had effectively disillusioned her, erasing the once wide-eyed childhood wonder and replacing it with mechanical expressions and exaggerated flourishes.  Behind the sparkle and glamour was a simple sleight of hand, operated by hidden chambers and clever wires, disguised by charm and hypnotic suggestion.

Thus, there had to be a reasonable explanation behind the latest stunt she’d been roped into performing.

“Very funny, Sunggyu,” Junae grumbled under her breath, brushing dust from her skirt as she clambered out of the oversized trunk and straightened her costume.  Instead of landing on the underground platform that she was supposed to use to cross to another part of the stage, Junae had tumbled straight into an old cupboard instead.

What was that man planning, changing their routine out of the blue?  While in the midst of a live show, no less!  They hadn’t practiced this—how was she supposed to know what to do now that their rhythm was off?

“You know Sunggyu?”

“Is this some kind of joke?” Junae growled, “Of course I know Sunggyu.”  She pushed wayward bangs from her face, flicking her hand in distaste when she noticed the glitter that clung to her skin.  Great, no doubt her hair and makeup was ruined too—not like it was her problem.  Sunggyu’s the one that will have a problem on his hands, just wait until she gets her hands on him, witnessing audience or not!

“Excellent!  Finally, someone useful.”

“What is that supposed to mean?” Junae snarled, whirling to confront the speaker…and drawing a complete blank.

Before her stood an absolute stranger.  Junae swore she’d never seen him before, and she just knew he wasn’t a random staff member as she had originally assumed.  Tall and lean, he belonged on a catwalk, especially with features as clean as his.  Most definitely not offstage.  Junae didn’t forget faces, and she wouldn’t deny that she’d checked out plenty of attractive men to know that someone who looked like this wouldn’t be easy to neglect.

Unless.

Junae eyed him suspiciously.  She couldn’t discount the possibility that he was insane, or dangerous, because of course they’d had their fair share of crazy fans.  Sunggyu more so, but Junae had dealt with an occasional stalker herself.  None had ever been so bold to reveal himself to her though, much less backstage where security was but a call away, except for that one flasher in Vegas.

Now wasn’t exactly the time to be waltzing down memory lane, however.

Her attention drifted downwards from his ecstatic smile.  “Are you wearing a bathrobe?”

It was a redundant question, frankly.  The man was decked from head to toe in a white robe, with wide sleeves and an ivory cloth belt to boot.  Alright, fine, maybe Junae jumped a bit hastily to conclusions.  The garment wasn’t fluffy enough to be a bathrobe, considering it looked as if it’d been sewn from silk, and there was a rather large hood, only it’d just been removed and now hung past his shoulders.

Junae pursed her lips, all but glaring at the peek of his collarbones—he wasn’t wearing anything beneath that robe.

Flasher.  Definitely a flasher.

The other sighed in evident exasperation, as if he’d had to explain his choice of wardrobe to more people than he ever cared to, and rolled his eyes dramatically.  “Healer’s robes,” he corrected, gesturing at the hemlines of his sleeves.

“‘Healer’?” Junae repeated.  A cosplayer?  Regardless, she wasn’t about to rule out her previous distrust so quickly.  Upon closer inspection, Junae acknowledged that they were in fact embroidered with silver characters, each one more complex than the last.  His collar was also intricately stitched, and Junae did not miss the subtle puff of his chest when he caught her staring.

“Second Class,” he informed her with no small amount of pride.

“Right,” Junae drawled sarcastically, “Just shy of First Class, eh?”

His expression darkened.  “I wouldn’t be passing judgment if I were you,” he retorted snidely, giving her own outfit a pointed look.

Junae felt the heat rise to her cheeks involuntarily at the reminder of her state of dress.  Or lack thereof—part of the job description unfortunately involved skimpy costumes and the ability to distract the audience with her body.  Assistants rarely got credit for their performances, since it generally went to the magicians themselves, but that didn’t discount their training or skills.  Not only had Junae learned the actual secrets behind Sunggyu’s tricks, she’d had lessons in both acting and dancing to strengthen her performance.  Who did this guy think he was, to disparage her work and efforts?

Never mind the fact she’d practically done the same seconds ago.  A blow to an overinvested fan’s ego was hardly comparable, reasoned Junae.

Before she could give him a piece of her mind, the stranger’s indignation gave way to curiosity.  “What are you supposed to be anyway?”

Oh, so that’s how he wanted to play?  Real smooth Sunggyu, of all people to hire for his little prank, he got the guy who wasn’t right in the head!  Junae scoffed.  “What, you never met a fairy?”

“I’ve met plenty, and you’re much too large to be a fairy.”

“Because I’m the queen.”

“That’s an insult to her majesty, honestly.”

Junae gritted her teeth, frustration winning over composure.  She could recognize a losing battle, and she didn’t have the time or patience for one.  “I don’t care who you are, or why you’re here, but you win.  Okay?  You win.  Now if you’ll excuse me, I’ve got a boss to throttle.”  She nodded curtly.  “Don’t let the door hit you on the way out.”

“But you didn’t answer my question—what are you?”

What did he mean by that?  What was she?  Human, you helpless geek, can’t even distinguish reality from fantasy?  Biting back her instinctively sardonic reply, Junae took a deep breath and exhaled heavily.  “A magician’s assistant.  Happy?”

“Quite.”  He actually looked it too.  He was beaming once more and had started bouncing on the balls of his feet.  “Name’s Lee Sungyeol, and why you’re here is odder than why I am.”

“And why’s that?” asked Junae, resolutely ignoring his hand when he offered it.

Sungyeol cocked a brow, grin positively smug even as his arm dropped limply back to his side.  “You’re in my house.”

Why she hadn’t thought to take in her surroundings prior to this moment baffled her.  Granted, Sungyeol had been more than a tad distracting.  What’s more, no one would ever expect a magic box that landed her in a dingy wardrobe had actually transported her somewhere else entirely.

Junae whipped her head from side to side, jaw dropping in horror.  The walls looming above her from all sides were nowhere near familiar, the room she was in filled with even more foreign things.  Jars of unknown substances sat on the table and shelves, opened books with yellowed pages lied on every elevated surface, a hammock made of what appeared to be tanned and stretched hide hung in a corner…

Could she seriously be in Sungyeol’s home?  By the looks of things, she could be in a cabin.  All Junae was certain of at this point was that she’s no longer in the studio, stage or not.

“Where am I?”  Junae took a wary step from him, the chest of clothes nudging the back of her knees, as if mocking her confusion.  To think she’d thought him harmless!  Of course delusions could escalate to threatening levels.  She patted her skirt weakly, cursing internally at the distinct lack of a cell-phone on her person even as she demanded, “Did you kidnap me?”

“No…”  Sungyeol spoke slowly, as if talking to a small child, “First off, you’re clearly a grown woman, which would’ve made it abduction.  More importantly, you came to me.”

Junae gaped, mouth opening and closing wordlessly.  How had that even happened?  People didn’t abruptly teleport in the blink of an eye!  There had to be a logical explanation, just had to.

Thinking back to the events that occurred prior to her inopportune disappearance yielded no answers.  Junae had performed the Devil’s Torture Chamber with Sunggyu countless times, practiced with him even more than that—for the life of her, she couldn’t recall doing anything differently.  She’d stepped into the body-length cabinet, as per usual, and let Sunggyu close the door on her.  The swords came next, stabbing through the slots specially made in the walls and pointing in at her from all sides.

Junae always closed her eyes for this part.  The blades may be as fake as the shimmering jewels adorning her lashes, and their tips may retract at the slightest contact with a solid surface, but that didn’t mean she enjoyed the sight of being attacked from every angle.  She kept her eyes shut tight as the magic box was leisurely spun on its axis, to show off to the audience that she was supposedly skewered clean through, and even as the trapdoor beneath her fell open and allowed her the short drop to the platform below the stage.

Sunggyu, in a bid for novelty, had combined his version of the trick with his variation of the Assistant’s Revenge.  While he opened the cabinet to reveal her missing, Junae was to cross to the part of the stage directly beneath him, and at his cue, spring back up behind the safety of his curtain to replace him.  She’d drop the curtain when he was out of sight and their viewers would collectively gasp, oh-ing and ah-ing at Sunggyu’s mysterious departure, but she’d hold a finger to her lips, begging for silence and smirking conspiratorially.  Once satisfied with the quiet she’d achieved, once she’d stalled long enough for Sunggyu to pop up within the Chamber, Junae would remove the swords, pretending to have a mighty difficult time doing so because of how deeply they’d been lodged in—naturally, she had to also let everyone appreciate Sunggyu’s apparently agonized screams.

It was tried and true, a routine she knew as well as the back of her hand.

…except when Junae closed her eyes this time, she’d opened them to find Sungyeol and who knows where, instead of a hidden deck.

Sungyeol continued, unmindful of the other’s barely restrained panic, “About time you showed up too, we’re due for another attempt.  Last guy failed before he even reached the first trial, can you believe it?”  Rubbing his chin, Sungyeol appraised her silently before muttering under his breath, “I must say though, I’ve never dealt with a female champion before.”

“What ‘champion’?” croaked Junae, still dazed from the sheer absurdity of everything.

Sungyeol jutted his chin out in lieu of answering, indicating something on the ground behind her.  “Dropped your sword, by the way.”

Junae followed his gaze automatically, attention settling on the innocuous blade by her feet.

It was one of the prop swords she should’ve been pierced with.

“I think,” Junae said very carefully, in that way hostage negotiators tend to speak to armed and highly risky people, “you’ve got me mixed up with someone else.

Sungyeol shook his head, cutting her off.  “It has to be you.  Not many people would carry a sword to begin with—it’s a champion thing.  Heroes, knights, noble youths…”  He ticked them off his fingers as he went, blinking thoughtfully up at the ceiling and nodding like it had confirmed what he told her.

“No, you don’t understand,” Junae persisted, “I’m a magician’s assistant—that thing’s not real.”  She picked the prop up by the hilt and swung it, ignoring Sungyeol’s reflexive duck.  “Would a real sword weigh this little?  And watch this.”

Sungyeol stepped up before she could jab the tip into her side, staying her by the elbow.  “It brought you here, didn’t it?  Seems pretty real to me.”  Regarding her contemplatively, he clicked his tongue.  “Being an assistant also has nothing to do with whether or not you’re to fulfill a Quest.”

The questions would not let up, would they?  What was this about a Quest?  And where exactly was here anyway?  It’d been nagging in the corner of her mind, but Junae realized she’s been taking the setting completely for granted.

Giving her arm an emphatic jerk, Sungyeol added seriously, “You shouldn’t taunt destiny in a land of magic either.”  He released her then.  “It’s got a nasty way of reminding you it exists.”

Junae couldn’t withhold a derisive snort—magic or not, her current experience wasn’t exactly pleasant as it was.  “And does this world have a name?  Because Toto, I do believe we’re not in Seoul anymore.”

“You named your blade Toto?” scoffed Sungyeol, wrinkling his nose.  “Deulim’s in safe hands.”

He wasn’t at all taken aback by her reference to another world—Junae, however, blanched.  Hearing it outright made it more concrete, and suddenly her sword felt so much heavier in her clammy grip.

Perhaps it was pity, or perhaps it was genuine concern, but Sungyeol flicked her in the forehead none too gently at the sight of her pasty face.  “I said that Toto brought you here, but I never said you were stuck.  Not much of a happily ever after if you’re miserable.”

Junae laughed, a high-pitched bark of disbelief.  “‘Happily ever after’?  So we’re in some fairytale now?”

“Yes.”

…what?

“Every world has its order—Deulim’s happens to be Stories.”

So a universe ruled by fiction?  Wouldn’t that make the impossible…possible?

“Then, say I fulfill this Quest as champion,” Junae’s brow furrowed as she mulled over the latest revelation, “I’d get my happily ever after?  Whatever makes me happy?”

Sungyeol smiled, obviously excited that she was coming to terms with her role.  “The goal, as it is for most champions, is to rescue the Damsel in Distress.  Yours happens to be a princess,” he paused to chuckle, “though don’t go assuming you’re special or anything, most Damsels are princesses.  They’re quite helpless.”

Junae thought back to all the childhood bedtime stories her mother used to tell her, as well as the adventure games her younger brother pulled all-nighters to play.  A Quest to save a princess sounded standard enough.

“Only ‘happily ever after’ would be me getting home, right?” she insisted.

“Right,” conceded Sungyeol.  “But don’t get ahead of yourself.  It’s a Tripartite Quest,” he told her, holding up three fingers, “Three challenges to prove your worth.  I wouldn’t count the curse separately, four’s too odd a number.”

“‘Challenges’?” Junae echoed dumbly, “‘Curse’?”

Once upon a time, in a far away land, there lived a king and his fair queen.  For many years, they longed for a child and finally their wish was granted.  A great holiday was proclaimed throughout the kingdom, so that all could celebrate the birth of the infant princess.

“Why are you talking like that?”

Sungyeol coughed uncomfortably.  “Like what?”

“Like you’re some omnipresent narrator in a film.”

“And what might that be like?”

“…never mind.”

Among the guests were six good fairies, and each bestowed a gift and blessing.  Before the last of them reached the cradle, however, the doors were blown open and a witch who lived in the forest swept in, spiteful for being overlooked.

Junae snapped her fingers, unable to stop the grin spreading across her features.  “I know this story!  The princess was cursed to prick her finger and die, but the last fairy changed it so she’d fall into a deep sleep instead.”

Maybe things wouldn’t be so bad, if she knew what to expect.

Sungyeol could only nod sulkily, pouting at the interruption, before he tilted his head in surprise.  “Then you know about the trials too?”

Junae grimaced, deflating—didn’t the prince go straight to the princess’s castle and kiss her awake?  “Not quite.”

“Three challenges to prove your worth,” Sungyeol informed her once more, “Tests of the heart, mind, and body.”

“I don’t suppose these are written exams?” she asked flatly.

“It’d be pretty pathetic if men fell from merely facing parchment.”

It took every ounce of willpower Junae had not to whimper at the prospect.  She could very well die on this Quest, perish in her attempts to return home.  Her family would never know what became of her.  “Wonderful.”

“Simple, isn’t it?”

Junae could only gawk—Sungyeol had the decency to look sheepish.  “Yeah, real simple,” she incredulously agreed, “Just like the fairytales say, three dangerous trials and a cursed princess to rescue, no big deal.”

All she wanted to do was go home, but that was apparently too much to ask.

Sungyeol awkwardly cleared his throat, attempting an uneasy smile when Junae glanced sharply up at him.  “If it’s any consolation, I’ve got your first test covered.”