Hyuk carefully slid out of his sleeping partner and used a small blanket to cover Hongbin’s body. He leaned down, placing a light kiss on his forehead before getting up and fixing his clothes.

“Did you enjoy what you saw?” he asked, startling Wonshik.

Wonshik was flustered, surprised by the scene he had stumbled upon and the pointed stare he was receiving from him. His cheeks flared with embarrassment. He never intended to watch. He was just too stunned to look away.

In spite of his facial expression, the stranger didn’t seem entirely disturbed. He calmly fixed his clothes, combing his fingers through his hair to make his disheveled appearance look stylish and intentional instead of wrecked by . (It actually worked.)

“No,” Wonshik finally answered, taking a step forward. “I didn’t mean to interrupt. I need help.”

Wonshik assumed that the man was well aware of himself and what might be going on in this strange place. Moreover, the fact that he and his partner were in what seemed like a secret hiding place in this vast forest implied that he knew his way around. It meant that he might be able to help him get home.

“You see, I’m lost,” Wonshik further explained, wanting to be rid of the awkward air around them and get right to the point.

Of course, that awkwardness was entirely one-sided, since the other seemed completely unphased by Wonshik’s presence and the desperation in his voice. Wonshik could tell, but his potential escape was still worth giving it a try.

“I tried asking around and no one seems to know anything. Am I going the right way to get back to Seoul? If not, can you steer me in the right direction?”

Wonshik expected to be turned away without any answers purely out of spite for disturbing the man’s secret rendezvous. What he didn’t expect was a sudden burst of cackling, loud and hysterical, complete with thigh slapping and tears prickling at the corners of the stranger’s eyes.

Sanghyuk couldn’t restrain himself. It had been such a long time since he was this entertained. The poor soul hadn’t the faintest idea what he was getting himself into. In three days, his favorite game would begin, and he had this lost boy to thank.

“I think I like you,” the stranger giggled, though Wonshik felt quite the opposite.

Something didn’t feel right to Wonshik. A change in the wind, a shift in the trees, or perhaps unseen bugs crawling up his legs (he scratched his pant leg profusely at the thought of that). He couldn’t place it, but he didn’t like it.

When the man stepped forward, Wonshik took an instinctive step back, spurring on another fit of laughter from him as a sinister grin spread across his face.

Wonshik’s insides started to twist, an unsettling feeling rising from the pit of his stomach as the grinning man approached him slowly like a cat stalking a mouse.

“Thanks to you, all the pieces are set in motion,” he proclaimed menacingly. Now, the real game can begin.”

Goosebumps rose on Wonshik’s skin and chills traveled down his spine. He jumped when a twig snapped beneath the man’s foot, a shot of phantom pain jabbing at his neck as if it had snapped instead. Thick clouds masked the sun, stealing the light from the room as a large black shadow stretched across the forest floor from the stranger’s feet, reaching out to grab Wonshik.

Fear threatened to keep him frozen in place, but Wonshik grit his teeth and turned to run, his fight or flight reflex kicking into overdrive at the impending danger. He didn’t know if it was that fear or his mind still lost in the confusion of this place that made the bamboo seem taller and the sky darker. He couldn’t find the road ahead or solid path cutting through the thicket, just endless bamboo wherever he turned.

Either his desperation was playing tricks on him or he was really seeing Jaehwan up ahead, the bright pastel of his robes in stark contrast to the looming trees casting shadows across anything they could touch.

“Wonshik!” Jaehwan called out, turning this way and that in search of him.

A sadistic laugh cut through the air, reverberating through quivering leaves and the unsteady ground beneath Wonshik’s feet. He kept running in spite of it, his hands gripping and pushing off the clammy bark of trees as he used them for momentum., It felt as if the very life was draining out of his legs as they struggled to carry him forward. trembling as he followed the pastel silks twisting in the darkness.

“Jaehwan,” he choked out.

The boy spun around, panic evident in his wide brown eyes. Wonshik was too afraid to contemplate what he was seeing behind him.

No! It’s not his time yet! Jaehwan thought franticly. That’s not for you to decide!

Jaehwan practically yanked his arm out of the socket, running with a speed that could only be matched by an Olympic athlete, or maybe something even faster and entirely inhuman. Wonshik struggled to keep up, crediting his fear and the comforting warmth of Jaehwan’s hand for the strength he had to do so. Wonshik’s chest hurt, his lungs contracting painfully as they ran for an endless amount of time, Jaehwan squeezing his hand tightly all the while.

The sun finally broke through the trees, battling shadows with rays of light that pierced the darkness, the crystal blue of the lake once again in sight.

Jaehwan released his hand and Wonshik buckled, falling to the ground on his hands and knees, until they also gave out and he fell on his side. It hurt to breathe. It seemed a miracle to move his legs again, and when he came into view, even Jaehwan seemed completely out of it.

“You, you ditched me,” was the first thing that came to mind when Wonshik finally caught his breath.

His thoughts were rushing like an express train, skipping stops along the lines of logic and fantastical possibilities. What he’d seen, where he was, what any of it meant; he couldn’t begin to comprehend. The sky looked painted. The air carried fragrances so potent he felt nauseous. The sound of birds chirping merrily sounded more like a Disney movie than real life. The only thing that felt real was the sweat of Jaehwan’s palm as they escaped the forest’s threshold. He was his link to clarity, the only that made sense.

“I didn’t ditch you,” Jaehwan denied, his mind also reeling from what had happened.

Jaehwan had a specific and simple job to do; transport souls to this realm without a hitch. He had done it for centuries, pretending to be a kind stranger while watching the confusion wash over their faces. He’d seen it get erased by peace after receiving a golden peach. He had also seen the terror that came with rejection, heard the screams mixed with laughter as Sanghyuk chased down those who were desperate enough to run.

Worse than seeing, he could feel Wonshik’s fear as he was pursued. He didn’t understand this new sensation of warmth linking their souls. Even guardians had soulmates, who were like sparks that faded in the flame of eternity. Souls who met them in other lifetimes in other planes of existence while they remained the same.

The pain was unbearable last time he met one. She was a withering thing, died at 92 of old age after living a full life with 3 marriages, 4 children and 9 grandchildren under her belt. They were connected through dreams. He was the beautiful flower boy who guided her through stages of her spiritual journey, until they met again on his boat and she couldn’t remember him, yet stared at him with that same enamored expression she had when she was 15.

But he didn’t know Wonshik’s soul. He wasn’t a valiant warlord from a powerful dynasty only remembered in the worn pages of history books. He wasn’t a weary farmer, whose skin was kissed by the sun and hands calloused from toiling in the fields preparing the harvest. Jaehwan couldn’t find him anywhere in the records, as if he hadn’t existed until the moment he…

“Ignoring me again?” Wonshik demanded once he had successfully caught his breath.

“I’m sorry,” Jaehwan apologized, and much to Wonshik’s surprise, laid in the grass behind him. “Just give me a minute.”

It was less of a request than a statement because in a matter of seconds his eyes were closed. Wonshik sat on his in the grass and sighed.

It was difficult not to stare, because even the surreal surroundings couldn’t compare to his ethereal beauty. As if a cherry blossom had morphed into human form, Jaehwan laid outstretched in the grass, the blades against his milky skin, pastel silk fluttering against his body as the wind blew, thick lips slightly parted as he inhaled and exhaled.

What drew him more than anything was the strange sensation of warmth. It had only increased when they touched, running hand in hand from a threat he couldn’t identify. Wonshik assumed it was body heat, but even now it remained, like hot cocoa sitting at the pit of his stomach and warming his entire body while the snow painted the world white outside his window.

Wonshik was surprised when suddenly Jaehwan opened his eyes and sprung up, swiping grass off his garments.

“What?” he asked, confused.

“Come on,” Jaehwan replied offering his hand.

Wonshik took it and pulled himself up, noting how quickly Jaehwan had let go once he was up. Did he feel it too? He didn’t have time to put it to question. Jaehwan had started walking and was calling over his shoulder for Wonshik to follow.

“Wait, where are we going?”

Jaehwan didn’t look back at him. He just kept his pace and headed in the direction of the pavilion, his sandals clacking against the wooden bridge as he walked with a determined stride.

“We’re going to get some answers.”