Say you met the man who murdered your father. Now, don't give this question much thought; answer it with the first thing that comes up in your head. Would you dare to fall in love with them? Would you turn away from your painful past and allow yourself to fall prey to their affection? Perhaps you're afraid that the words they speak are tainted with lies and deceit. Perhaps you're scared that the kisses they press onto your lips are laced with the deadliest poisons. A bouquet of pure white roses with thorns that can easily pierce through skin and serenades that are as beautiful as they are venomous to a loving heart; it's easy to succumb to the siren's song. Of course, it's perfectly understandable why you would want nothing to do with them. A killer will always be a killer, after all. Whether a day has passed or a century; it will never change the fact that blood was spilled by those same hands that embrace you. Trust is crucial in this game called love; would you dare to fall in love with them?

The city of Porles was abundant with people; children ran around the marketplace, tugging on their mother's skirts. Drunkards laughed and waved bottles in the air as they stumbled out of the taverns. Merchants advertised from behind their wooden stalls, hoping to lure in customers with their enticing goods. The sweet scent of fresh bread danced in the air and teased hungry stomachs. The place was very much alive--quite ironic, really. Even when the sun disappeared to God-knows-where and when raindrops fell from the Heavens above, the city of Porles refused to rest.

At first glance, one would assume that a city so lively would be filled with only law-abiding citizens. However, all was not well in Porles. Thieves prowled around the marketplace, ready to snatch purses from unsuspecting women and killers walked among the innocents, like a wolf in sheep's clothing. Bribes kept the bitter truth hidden from the public eye to prevent damaging the city's already tarnished reputation. Porles was unanimously known around the country as 'The Killers' Rendezvous'. For reasons unknown, homicides were as common as feathers were on a bird and bloodless nights were as rare as the feathers of an angel. Conspiracists even believed that the headquarters of a legendary guild of assassins--The House Of Cards, was located somewhere in Porles. But of course, The House Of Cards was nothing more than folklore, fabricated to discourage anyone from venturing around the city at night. Still, regardless of whether The House Of Cards was real or not, there was no denying that the rate of homicides was alarming. Nevertheless, Porles was a place Youngjae enjoyed visiting. With its rich history and exquisite wines, breath-taking landscapes and ever-increasing number of brothels, it was obvious why Porles was so appealing to visitors. 

 Youngjae watched as droplets of rain trickled down the carriage windows. From behind the glass, he could see small puddles forming on the shiny cobblestone path. He could hear the familiar chattering of the people growing louder as they neared the heart of the city. Umbrellas blossomed upon a raindrop's touch, while others scurried off to find shelter. It was during that rainy afternoon when Youngjae received news that his mother was finally making her way back home after spending her birthday with relatives in another city. It had been over four weeks since she left and two weeks since her birthday. Stepping out of his carriage, he opened his own umbrella and was welcomed by the delectable scent of fresh bread. Youngjae paced around the marketplace stalls, searching for a fine late-birthday gift for her. Angel statuettes, elegant gowns, heavy chandelier earrings; those were nice, but not good enough. Eventually, he walked back to his carriage with a velvet pouch in his hands. He could feel the weight of the jewels and gold lying behind the soft fabric and sighed. Growing up in a rich family, he was taught to always be generous but he was no fool either. He knew how money worked and he knew that he had always had a tendency to spend more on others than for himself. Though, there was never a time when he regretted it. To Youngjae, the grateful smiles they gave him were worth much more than every gold piece he could ever own. He liked to keep people happy--that was all that ever mattered to him.

Turning around a corner, he noticed a young man, more or less the same age as him. He wore clothing that even peasants would be ashamed to wear. The shreds of cloth that dangled off of his limp body were stained with blood and didn't protect him at all from the city's filth. The man's thin limbs were blemished with fresh cuts and bruises. It was almost as if he was deliberately left there to die. Youngjae approached him and crouched down beside him, sheltering them both under his umbrella.

"Hello there. Would you like some help?"

The man said nothing. He looked up at Youngjae with lifeless eyes that practically screamed for help. Completely abandoning his umbrella and exposing himself to the rain, he bent forward and picked up the man. With one hand pressed against his back and the other under his knees, Youngjae carried the man back to his carriage. 

"Don't worry. You will live," Youngjae assured, though he wasn't so sure anymore. The man was as light and fragile as a child, if not lighter and his lungs were weak. He was hanging onto his life by the tips of his frail fingers but still, Youngjae refused to worry. 

"You will live." Youngjae repeated to himself. 

The wind blew and dragged Youngjae's discarded umbrella along with it. Blood and rainwater streamed into the drains as Porles claimed yet another victim. Passersby shot Youngjae strange looks and whispered among themselves. Youngjae furrowed his eyebrows at them. There was nothing absurd about helping those in need.

Amidst the shrieks of terror and crying children, thunder roared behind the ashen clouds and what was nothing more than gentle kisses of rain came pelting down mercilessly upon their heads. Death was near and yet, hope was closer.

"Junhong," Youngjae called as he placed the man onto the carriage seat.

Junhong was Youngjae's valet. He was quite new, being hired only a few weeks prior. He did his job well, despite the fact that he was rather clumsy and couldn't wield a sword to save his life. Though, with his tall stature, it was much easier for Youngjae to monitor his actions and making sure that the young man was doing his job and not flirting with any of the women.

"Junhong, fetch me some bread from that shop over there." Youngjae pointed towards a nearby bakery. The image of a loaf of bread was painted onto the wood of the wordless sign that stood above the entrance. A young woman could be seen entering the bakery. Youngjae passed a handful of gold coins to Junhong. 

"And be quick; you don't have time to converse with the baker's daughter." Youngjae yelled after the young man. Soon, Junhong returned to the carriage, holding a loaf of bread and handed it to Youngjae. 

"Thank you, Junhong." Youngjae gave a small nod. Junhong turned back, closing the carriage door. He ran his fingers through his dampened bangs and rubbed away the lipstick stain on his cheek.

"Here," Youngjae sat beside the man, offering him the bread and a flask of water. A gentle smile tugged at the corners of Youngjae's lips as a shaky hand reached out and accepted the food.

"Hey. What's your name?" Youngjae tipped his head to one side as the lengthy pause grew between them.

"My name," The man hesitated. It was almost as if he had forgotten his own name. He spoke with a lifeless voice, yet Youngjae could sense that beyond his helpless exterior, there was a strong will to live.

"Daehyun."

Daehyun looked down at the food in his hands.

It's been so long.

A whole decade had passed since Daehyun last ate bread that was paid for. A whole decade had passed since the last time anyone spoke to him so kindly. A whole decade had passed without anyone asking for his name. 

It's been too long.

"Well, Daehyun, I'm pleased to tell you that as long as you're under my care, I promise I won't let you die." Youngjae smiled with glee and Daehyun smiled back; another thing he hadn't done in a long time. Youngjae thought nothing of those words at the time; he was just giving Daehyun hope. Yet, little did he know, those words meant everything to Daehyun. Youngjae just volunteered to be entrusted with someone's life.

"I'm grateful, I truly am. But if I may ask, why are you doing all of this for my sake? I'm just a nobody." Daehyun looked down at his hands once more, guilt tugging at his heart.

I don't deserve this. I'll just be a burden to you.

"We are all nobodies, are we not? Some of us are just more fortunate than others, but none of that will matter once we die. It's a depressing thought, I know." Youngjae placed a hand on Daehyun's shoulder.

"But Daehyun, when you see an angel, would you ever question its actions?"

Daehyun shook his head. "I doubt that an angel would ever do any evil deeds. So no, I wouldn't question its actions."

Youngjae smiled at Daehyun. "Then don't question mine, alright?"

Daehyun nodded at Youngjae. 

The delicate scent of petrichor welcomed them to Levert forest. Birds flew around the dampened air and sang a beautiful tune that even a whole orchestra couldn't replicate. From the lush treetops and down to the forest floor, every imperfection complimented its natural beauty. Even the muddy path beneath the carriage wheels seemed to fit right in. Daehyun stared at the scenery in awe. It truly was a pleasant experience. 

Light bled through the oak-wood branches until eventually the soft shadows were replaced by a warm light. The silhouette of a large mansion stood before them, beckoning them. The amber hue of the setting sun was the cue for most people to return home.

Home.

Daehyun sighed. That one word carried with it many bittersweet memories. He remembered his old friends, his old neighborhood. He remembered his mother. Though those memories were made so long ago, he could never forget them. How could he? Those were the happiest moments of his miserable life.
 

The carriage stopped at the manor's gates and yelling could be heard from the coachman.

"Oi, Jongup, wake up! Open the bloody gate!"

A barefooted man scampered out of a nearby cottage, untroubled by the insects entering through the open door. He opened the gates with haste, bowing as the carriage passed. 

"Welcome back, Youngjae, sir!" he shouted.

Youngjae nodded at him and Jongup closed the gates behind them.

The horses whinnied as the carriage came to a halt at the manor's entrance. Junhong held the door open for the passengers and Youngjae looked over at Daehyun.

"Can you walk?"

Daehyun nodded. "Yeah, I can."

He, though with great difficulty, managed to lift himself off of the seat until his exhausted legs could no longer support him. Though, instead of landing on the floor, he fell back into Youngjae's arms.

"Perhaps it isn't wise for you to walk independently just yet. Come on, I'll take you to our nurse." Youngjae placed Daehyun's arm around his shoulders and stepped out of the carriage together. The two stopped in front of the coachman.

"Thank you for driving, Yoongi." 

Yoongi smiled at Youngjae.

"It was my pleasure, sir. I wish the best for you and your friend."

Yoongi looked over to Daehyun.

"And don't you worry, kid. You're with Yoo Youngjae; you're in safe hands."

He bowed to them both before turning to leave.

What happened that afternoon? The rain finally stopped and the cicadas hummed along with the nightingale's song. Nature's cold breath gently swayed branches and its haunting lullaby brought the sun to sleep. The day wasn't over yet--the night was still young. Though, it wasn't during the day and nor was it at night; it was during that rainy afternoon when Daehyun found someone that he could call his friend.

For the moment, that is. 

Night--the dying hours of the day. Its haunting beauty was astounding; what lurked behind the gloomy shadows it cast? An angel, perhaps? Would an angel arise from such darkness? We may never know. But even so, without darkness, there wouldn't be light.

As they entered through the manor's wooden doors, Daehyun almost gasped. Beautiful paintings with intricate frames lined the walls and in the corners, bouquets of poinsettia stood tall in their brass vases. Red velvet curtains were draped across the windows and fell to the ground into an unruly pile, which still looked flawless, nevertheless. Above their heads was an elegant chandelier with the Midas touch; it cast a golden light upon everything in sight. 

"Welcome back, sir."

They were greeted by another man. He wore a suit equally as classy as Youngjae's and his dark hair was combed back. The combination of his intimidating eyes and friendly smile was unlike anything Daehyun had ever seen in his life. 

"Thank you, Yongguk. Do you mind helping me carry Daehyun here, to Aya?"

Yongguk bowed slightly. "Of course, sir." He said as he made his way to Daehyun's side.

Daehyun place his arm around Yongguk's shoulders and the two led him up the marble stairs. They pulled him up so much that Daehyun's feet barely touched the steps. The same beige walls reached up to the second floor and beyond; they continued up the stairs to the third floor and into a long hallway, adorned with the same potted Poinsettias. A line of doors stood before them and with gentle pushes, the two led him to a door on the far left. Yongguk left Daehyun's side and held the door open for them.

"Thank you, Yongguk. You may go now."

Yongguk bowed to Youngjae as he closed the door behind him. 

"Now, Youngjae, why have you brought a peasant boy here?" A stern, yet sweet voice asked. It reminded Daehyun of his mother.

"Do not call our guest a 'peasant'." Youngjae sighed.

"Oh, alright, bring him here."

Youngjae led Daehyun to a small bed in the corner of the room and the two sat side-by-side on its edge. A short, yet very plump woman approached them with little steps. Her grey curls fell around her face and a large scar across her wrinkled skin could be seen beneath her hair. 

"Now, does your 'guest' here, have a name?" Aya folded her arms and eyed the two.

"My name's Daehyun, ma'am."

"Heavens! He called me ma'am!" She exclaimed.

"Youngjae, you could learn a thing or two from this boy." Aya placed her hands on her hips. She was exactly like Daehyun's mother. She always compared him with other people.

Aya looked back to him. "Daehyun, was it? Well, Daehyun, before I can start putting bandages on you, you're going to need to take a bath."

Daehyun sighed as he dipped into the bath. He had long forgotten what hot water felt like against his skin. Breathing in the rose-scented steam was a new feeling to him. He looked up at his reflection on the fogged mirror. The cuts and bruises were still there. His bones still protruded out from behind his skin. Yes, it was still him, without a doubt. So why did Daehyun feel like he was living someone else's life?

He sat on the edge of the infirmary bed beside Youngjae once more as Aya prepared the bandages for him. She waddled over towards them, carrying a tray with pieces of cloth on it.

"Oh, child, you're going to need to take that bathrobe off, else it'll be morning before I finish wrapping you up."

Daehyun blushed as he stared down at his robe. Feeling self-conscious all of a sudden, he pulled the robe together and refused to let go.

"But--" Daehyun was interrupted.

"No buts! I've been a nurse for almost forty years and I've done raised plenty of children in my life. So whatever it is you're embarrassed about, it's nothing compared to what I have seen."

There was a long pause before Youngjae cleared his throat and got off of the bed.

"I'll just wait outside, it that's fine with you." Youngjae held in a laugh as he made his way out of the infirmary, smiling like an idiot.

Daehyun sighed and nodded. He had no choice; just like his mother, Aya refused to take no for an answer.

The whole experience wasn't as bad as Daehyun had expected. Aya took no notice of his discomfort and soon enough, he too forgot about why he was so reluctant. He was just being immature. Aya told him about her children and her beloved grandchild, who, Daehyun learned, wasn't much older than he was. It wasn't long before he slipped his robe back on and found Youngjae still waiting outside the infirmary.

Daehyun looked down at his limbs wrapped in bandages as Youngjae led him to his own room.

“This is where you’ll be staying.” Youngjae opened the door and entered after Daehyun. Daehyun looked around at his surroundings. A large canopy bed was pushed against the wall and beside it was a polished wooden shelf filled with various books. The lone window overlooked the gates and Daehyun realized that Levert forest wasn’t far from Yoo manor at all.

“And these clothes are yours.” Youngjae walked to the wardrobe in the corner of the room and opened it, revealing a vast selection of clothing. Youngjae pulled out some clothes and threw them onto the bed in a pile.

“Wear those tomorrow morning so you don’t have to think about what to wear. It’s much quicker.”

Daehyun nodded. “Thank you.”

“I'll show you around the manor tomorrow, but for now, it is best if you just rest." Before the door closed behind him, he mumbled something.

"Sleep well, Daehyun."

And with that, the door was closed and Daehyun was left alone in the grandiose bed-chamber. Despite how tired he was, the moment his head hit the soft pillow, his eyes refused to close. With his head ridden with thoughts, he couldn’t help but feel a sense of guilt. He didn’t deserve this. He didn’t deserve anything that happened for the past few hours. Why was the world being so nice to him? After everything he did? It wasn’t right.

His eyelids grew heavier than stone and the allure of sleep was greater than all the riches in the world. Darkness filled his eyes and his senses became oblivious to the outside world. Had an angel flown past that night, he never would’ve noticed it.