A/N: title reads as "Yuujou" in Japanese, the word for friendship.

The veil hung from one of the rafters in a tiny room of the mansion, but in its thinness it did nothing to hide soft curves and smooth limbs. They’d asked the boy—who claimed his name was Minho—to place an additional mask over his features, so as not to set someone off by accident. And so he’d obeyed, placed like a showpiece in a corner, dressed in nothing but a silver visor. When one squinted, they’d see golden tendrils dancing in a strange pattern over its front and around the eyeholes. This was all the luxury they could afford the unfortunate waif.

Jonghyun remained sat near the door, as far away from the other as possible. The Magician had warned him repeatedly all morning—to guard himself, to remain alert at all times, to never once let his sight or heart waver to the boy’s face. They’d offered to tie a blindfold round his head but a few stumbling steps and a bumped nose changed that idea.

He’d offered to take food upstairs but now, as his hand caressed his reddened face, he felt like this was a big miscalculation.

Lord Kibum had had to be put under a sleeping spell for he wouldn’t part with the newcomer no matter how the others pleaded. Jonghyun had never seen his master—a man of very high social stature amongst the nobles— that distraught or disorderly before. It frightened and confused him. He’d heard tell of the ailment called “love” before but hadn’t once seen it or felt it in his short life until now. Indeed, some trepidation had caressed his chin at that thought yet seeing Lord Kibum’s insane rioting a few minutes ago had changed any fledgling curiosity he may have held.

If love was so dangerous a thing, he’d prefer to bleed out by Jinki’s hate any day.

Long slender fingers covered the front of the mask, holding it in place when the boy turned his head to look at Jonghyun. “I… I must remove my cover to eat, brave Reaper… C-could you—could you not turn the other way for a while?”

“A-ah…” Jonghyun nodded and swiftly positioned to face the back of the door. “You may… you may begin,” he allowed.

The flash of gentle brown irises was all he could manage to catch a glimpse of in those few seconds, and that little sighting alone tugged at his heartstrings. Clearly the boy behind the veil was a menacing threat to all of them. The Reaper swore then and there: if there was a remedy to the malady that is love, he will risk his life to find it. For Lord Kibum was more than a master and a brother to him. His good grace was the reason Jonghyun was alive.

“You have claimed a great man with your curse, boy,” he ground his teeth, wrists draped over his knees in a meditative position. Looking at the captive was prohibited, but perhaps speaking to him would give a clearer picture of what kind of damage he’d done to Lord Kibum. He worried his lips before speaking on. “Pray that he doesn’t die of it, or your pretty head will roll in my mustard fields. Then we’ll see how many you can claim.”

“I… I do not remember speaking any curse, brave Reaper…?”

“Pssht!” Jonghyun scoffed to a side. “You young ones from the Other Side are all the same. You act without pause and then you bear no shame within yourself to apologize for your sins. Perhaps the Fighter was correct in his choice…” he mumbled. “We should have beheaded you when we had the chance.”

When steel clanged against the floor, he whipped around to see the boy cowering behind the flimsy protection of the veil. He shook his head over and over, hands trembling, shoulders shivering, feet kicking till he dragged himself all the way back to the edge of the room. “P-please…!” he begged in a teary voice. “Please spare me…! Spare me, great lord, please spare me, I’ll—!” he crawled back forward in a fevered manner, the visor slipping off a little.

Jonghyun gasped and touched his face in a strange mix of shame and disbelief. “How cruelly I spoke…” he whispered to himself.

“I’ll do anything for you! Anything at all! I will… I will serve you forever if you command it! You may even have—you may even do with my body as you wish but— please…! Please, don’t kill me! My lord, please don’t kill—!”

“I won’t!” the Reaper assured loudly to silence the other, holding his hands up as if to show the pointed absence of weapons. “I will not harm you, young one. I am not allowed to lay even a finger on you. D-do not worry so…”

Minho sobbed and fell to his side, weeping pitiably. The plate of food lay forgotten, some even spilled around in the earlier frenzy. The thought of reaching out to offer comfort became too overpowering by then, and so Jonghyun moved across the space on his knees. He lifted the veil away and went on to carefully pat the boy’s back in consolation. When he gradually began to curl up against Jonghyun in response, he let it happen. The softness of his heart couldn’t see such a fragile thing suffer, after all.

“What an unfortunate lot yours must be…” he muttered, weaving his fingers through silky curls.

“My mother… birthed me against her wishes.”

Over the next few days it was revealed through cautious questioning that Minho was no different from them. He was a Blessed One too, and had lived as hard a life as any of them had. His village had jeered and hissed at him, his family had thrown him out when he’d turned of age, and no one had taken him in out of kindness. For where does kindness exist anymore? Having to wear a black bag over his head all his life, Minho had lived like a prisoner out in the open.

“She was a beautiful woman, and she could’ve been on the stage. The royals of the Other Side paid great sums to see her act in her youth. But when my existence burdened her…” the boy spoke with his head hung low, the visor looking like a death sentence. “She lost all favor with the prince’s court. He had her banished. I thus I became an obscenity to her… I was never wanted by my own mother.”

Jonghyun tutted with sympathy.

“I heard her swear at me, hoping she could throw me away the moment she laid eyes on me. It scared me, it scared my soul that grew inside the cage of her body. No child wishes to come to life with the knowledge that it will be given up from it mother’s care… And so upon entering this world, I prayed that she would somehow love me despite all the misfortune I brought upon her. I prayed with every drop of blood in me.

“I prayed too much.”

The Reaper guessed the rest by himself. “Now anyone who looks at you falls in love with you, eventually feeling the emptiness within them… and dying of the illness that is being unloved.” He sighed, feeling the heavy memories of his own birth come back to nibble at the sides of his heart. “As occurred with Lord Kibum… is that not so?”

Minho clutched Jonghyun’s hands tightly. “Please forgive me. You must forgive me! I—I never intended to be a danger to your master! He has been generous enough to save me from slavery, to offer me shelter and food. He is a great man. I never intended for him to fall prey to the curse. I really did not—”

“Yes, yes, I understand…” Jonghyun nodded sadly. “Fate has played its turn and hidden the dice away. There is nothing we can do to save him now…”

The boy hesitated a little in his seat. A thick blush started to creep its way up his neck, disappearing behind the visor. Long eyelashes lowered themselves in shame, fingers slipping off their grip to fiddle amongst themselves. “D-do not give up all hope yet, great lord.”

The Reaper frowned. “What is it?”

“I…” Minho stuttered. “I could fall in love with Lord Kibum a-and save him.”