Winter 3/3

After his first reading, Junhong slowly became comfortable in the library as the weeks passed in the Underworld. He had read through his mother’s and father’s lives in the safety and comfort of Yongguk’s arms, with the god waking him from his trance whenever he became too immersed in the story and would begin whimpering, trembling or murmuring in panic. Yongguk knew that Junhong needed to read his parents’ records – they had passed away when he was only a teenager – and would hold the nymph until he was ready to read again.

One day, Junhong was sitting on Yongguk’s lap, both of them tucked into a large cushioned chair, when he suddenly had a realisation. He placed the book he was about to read on the table next to them and tilted his head to look at his lover. Yongguk’s eyes were adoring when he looked back at him, his expression uncharacteristically soft for a god of death.

“Do you not get bored, watching me read?” the nymph asked in a small voice.

The god chuckled, and lifted his head to kiss Junhong. “I could never.”

The nymph settled his arms around the god’s neck so he could press their chests even closer together and kiss his jaw. Yongguk had learnt over the past month that Junhong craved touch whenever he felt comfortable, and he welcomed it. Sometimes it was difficult to tell who wanted to hold the other more.

“Would you like to read?” The nymph asked. He blinked innocently. “Or perhaps we should do something different today?”

Yongguk gazed upon his lover on his lap, glad to see that he was in a happy mood. Sometimes it was obvious that he missed his forest, although the nymph had avoided the topic completely for the past month. Yongguk knew that Junhong wasn’t talking about the Surface out of politeness, and it stung. He wished that Junhong was comfortable telling him that he missed his forest. He wished he could make the Underworld better for him, somehow. There were not many activities to do in the Underworld, though, and he knew Junhong would be far more entertained on the Surface.

“Would you like to meet some of Olympus’s gods and goddesses?” the god suggested, watching his lover’s reaction carefully. Junhong’s eyebrows pulled together, and he nodded slowly, silently asking the god to continue. “We could invite them here.”

“To the Underworld?” Junhong questioned. His eyes lit up, “Like a party?”

Yongguk was thinking more of a dinner, but he wouldn’t deny Junhong of anything he wanted, especially if he had to spend the next two months somewhere he didn’t want to be.

“A party,” Yongguk agreed, watching Junhong smile widely and clasp his hands together.

“Thank you, my lord!” he said cheerfully, and Yongguk tried not to think of the amount of organisation that would have to go into a party in the Underworld. Only his siblings and Jongup were allowed free access in the Underworld – and Yongnam was definitely not invited. Getting all the gods and goddesses into the castle would be difficult…

Perhaps he could let Himchan handle all the planning.

It was a freezing Sunday morning when Daehyun was woken up by conversation between Sanghyun and his father. The sun had not yet risen, leaving the small hut in darkness. Like all the other huts in the village, Daehyun’s house was only had a large one-room space, so he was rarely given privacy, or any quiet.

“We must have angered the gods somehow,” his father was saying to Sanghyun, pacing up and down.

“We have done nothing to anger them,” his older brother replied coolly, crossing his arms. His eyes were narrowed, piercing and cold. “We cannot make them an offering if there is nothing to offer, father.”

“I did not say anything about making an offering,” the older man replied. “We simply have to fix this problem. The villagers are all watching us, to see if we can solve this issue, and we will be scoffed at if we can’t.”

Daehyun watched them sleepily from the bed, covered in a thick quilt but still shivering. He had fallen victim to the extreme cold in the middle of last week; his body was wracked with intense shivers, he sneezed after every word, and his voice was barely a voice at all.

He curled into the blankets, wishing he could block out the noise. He sneezed once, and the conversation between his older brother and his father immediately hushed. They stared at him from the other side of the room, and he lifted the blanket over his head, hiding himself from them. He closed his eyes, ready to fall asleep, only to pick out quiet whispering as soon as he was comfortable.

“The runt has already fallen ill. The villagers will see it as a sign of weakness for our family if he does not attend the meeting this week,” his brother hissed.

“He will get better eventually, Sanghyun. The villagers will not care; he offers no real contribution anyway,” the lower voice of his father spoke with distaste. An ugly, dark emotion flared in Daehyun’s stomach, and he squeezed his eyes shut, hoping they would leave quickly, without disturbing him.

Ever since the winter began, the village held a weekly meeting to figure out how they were going to survive. They had little supplies left from before the cold, and they were quickly running out. No one could find any animals in the forest. The meetings were held on the Sunday of every week, and started when the sun rose, finishing at midday.

In the three meetings Daehyun had gone to, he had fallen asleep listening to his father try and control everyone else’s supplies, and his brother insisting that men deserved food more than women, for ‘contributing more to the survival of the entire village.’ Daehyun was too scared to argue with his brother in front of everyone who idolised him, but he was certain everyone would have died within the first week, if not for one of the elder ladies discovering that snow could be boiled into water. There was not much he could say though, since all the men agreed with Sanghyun, and the decision was made.

He was just glad he didn’t have to attend the meeting this week, even if he was deathly ill.

Daehyun didn’t know how much time passed, staying underneath the quilt, but when he registered the door shut, he immediately sat up. He got out of bed and shuffled over to where Sanghyun had boiled snow that morning, pouring himself a drink.

His quilt was still wrapped around himself as he drank, and he moved over to the window, peering outside. Snow was falling on the ground, covering up the fresh tracks leading out of the houses. He couldn’t see any footprints leading out of Youngjae’s hut yet, so he sat by the window and waited.

Over the past few weeks, he had noticed that Youngjae was the only one who did not attend the weekly meetings. He had a fairly good idea of where the younger boy was going instead – but he could not follow him.

Today was the best opportunity he was going to ever get.

As Daehyun waited, he began wondering how Youngjae survived in the extreme cold. As far as he knew, everyone else in the village had access to warm clothes and blankets, and family to look after them. Youngjae had nothing, and nobody. Yet, Daehyun had seen him around the village, and he seemed as healthy as ever. He didn’t go to the weekly meetings to complain about the hunger or cold either.

Daehyun bit his lip, worrying about the boy as the sun rose in the sky and there was still no sign of Youngjae leaving his house. He hoped he wasn’t sick too.

Just before Daehyun was about to give up and head to back, he saw the door of Youngjae’s hut swing open, and the man himself step outside. Daehyun ducked down, hoping Youngjae wouldn’t notice someone staring at him, but his eyes widened when he saw how thin Youngjae’s clothes were. The boy was shivering as he sprinted across the village, and he slipped into the forest before Daehyun could realise what was happening.

The man cursed out loud and dropped his quilt, running outside before he could lose sight of the other. He was in the middle of panicking, unable to see Youngjae anymore, when his eyes fell on the footsteps in the snow.

The snow was falling quickly, but Daehyun could still see enough to follow the tracks before they were covered up again. He smiled slightly at the small footprints, and followed them into the forest.

Daehyun may not have been as talented as Sanghyun at hunting, but he knew his way around the forest without disturbing any animals, or alerting a certain boy that he was being followed. He caught up to Youngjae soon enough, but stayed at a safe distance away, hiding behind trees. After a few minutes, Youngjae had stopped running, and was now trudging through the snow, hugging himself to keep warm.

Daehyun’s eyes softened at the sight, but he frowned. He would have to find a way to keep Youngjae warm for as long as the cold lasted.

He watched Youngjae walked into a clearing, completely covered in snow. In the middle of the meadow stood a large tree which, like the other trees in the forest, had lost its leaves. Large fruit still hung from its branches, although Daehyun had never seen fruit like them before. His eyes fell on the man who was under the tree, dressed in all black, and his body went numb.

Without a decent place to hide in the clearing, Daehyun had to stay in the forest, hiding behind a tree. He watched, feeling his entire world freeze, as Youngjae’s entire expression lifted when he neared the man, a wide smile breaking on his face. It felt like a nightmare – just when he thought he had a chance with Youngjae, the boy had found someone else.

Daehyun stared at the figure, his eyes narrowing scornfully. Reluctantly, he admitted that the other man was attractive – extremely so. His blond hair, so light it almost looked platinum, was styled to look so effortlessly perfect that Daehyun got angry just looking at it. Even from a far distance, he could make out the man’s sharp jawline, and his even sharper gaze, which didn’t soften as Youngjae approached. In fact, his expression only seemed to harden when he saw the shivering male, and he took off the jacket he was wearing to give it to him.

Daehyun watched as Youngjae blushed, flustered, and tried to refuse the gift, but the other man didn’t say anything else, leaving him to sheepishly wear the jacket.

Daehyun seethed, clamping his jaw shut. This man, with his perfect hair and his manners.

Much to his relief, he didn’t have to wait for long to find a flaw in their relationship.

Youngjae was talking incessantly, but was barely receiving any reply. The other man only nodded or shook his head – he only opened his mouth for a verbal reply once. Even then, it was clipped and he didn’t look interested at all, even when Youngjae was grinning in his direction. Daehyun glared at the couple grumpily. Youngjae could do so much better than someone who didn’t even care.

Daehyun had stood there, watching their one-sided conversation, for minutes, silently cursing the man Youngjae was with. How long had they been dating for? Surely Youngjae wasn’t lying when he said he was single for the bachelor festival.

As he was glaring at them, he pressed himself next to a tree trunk for warmth, and berated himself for forgetting to bring thicker clothing. He was already beginning to shiver again, cold snowflakes landing on his face and in his hair.

His nose twitched.

His eyes widened for a millisecond, before he gripped his mouth to muffle his sneeze. His nails dug into his skin when both Youngjae, and the man he was with, looked over to the tree he was hiding behind. He was frozen in place, making direct eye contact with Youngjae. Daehyun was so mortified staring at him that he didn’t realise Youngjae’s lover leave in a rush – almost as if disappearing in thin air.

Youngjae got over his shock quicker than Daehyun did, making his way over after a few moments. His expression was unreadable, but Daehyun would understand if he was about to be yelled at. He cursed under his voice, praying to the gods to take pity on him and create a pitfall beneath his feet, or send him to the Underworld so he would not have to confess to Youngjae that he was so hopelessly infatuated with him that the thought of him being courted by somebody else struck him with fear. He swallowed, watching Youngjae approach and wanting to hide behind a tree again.

When Youngjae was within an arm’s reach, an apology was on the tip of his tongue, but the younger villager lifted his hand to brush against Daehyun’s forehead.

“You are freezing, Daehyun,” he murmured, not sounding angry at all. Daehyun could only stare at the beauty in front of him, watching the snowflakes fall into his light brown hair, and admiring the blush across his cheeks, caused from the cold. Youngjae looked up at him, eyes wide and full of worry.

“I’m fine,” he replied, his teeth chattering. He crossed his arms tighter, staring defiantly at the boy in front of him. He clenched his jaw, not wanting to say anything senseless.

Youngjae hesitated before taking off his jacket – the one his suitor had just given him – and placing it on Daehyun’s shoulders. Daehyun was immediately shocked at the warmth it provided, and shook his head, trying to return it to the other, but Youngjae refused.

“You are too sick to be out here,” he chastised softly, pulling Daehyun’s wrist along, back towards the village.

“W-Who was he?” Daehyun chattered, only proving his point, but Youngjae didn’t reply. Daehyun didn’t recognise his suitor from the neighbouring villages – and he would have definitely heard about someone who looked that handsome. The thought of his face made Daehyun’s anger rile up again, warming up his insides.

“Your lover will not be happy if you give this to me,” he said quietly.

Youngjae looked at him incredulously. “Are you deathly ill?”

“You are avoiding my questions,” Daehyun muttered bitterly, watching his feet trudge through the snow. He didn’t see Youngjae roll his eyes, and the boy tugged his arm to make him walk faster. Daehyun did so, but his feet dragged across the ground as he walked.

“We are only friends.”

Daehyun lifted his head, but Youngjae was not looking at him, walking in front. “He has a lover in his own village.”

“You… are uncourted?” Daehyun could not hide the relief that flooded his voice. Youngjae looked back at him, sighing.

“Just because you have a hoard of admirers doesn’t mean everyone else does,” the boy replied dryly.

Daehyun raised an eyebrow. “I don’t have any admirers.”

“Are you not only ill, but blind as well?” Youngjae said, but the corners of his lips lifted. He seemed a lot more relaxed, but Daehyun couldn’t help but ask more questions.

“Then… who was he?” he questioned. “Which village is he from? How are you friends? Do you admire him?”

This time, he saw Youngjae roll his eyes and decidedly not answer the questions. He frowned, not getting an answer even as they entered the village, and as Youngjae led him straight towards his own hut.

The village was as empty as the two had left it, with all other villagers in the town centre for the meeting. If the meeting wasn’t on, Daehyun knew his father would insist for him to return home immediately, and rumours would start in an instant. It was ridiculous how the village leader’s youngest son entering the orphan’s home would be the most scandalous gossip of the year. Still, as Daehyun entered Youngjae’s hut, he found himself flush with the implication.

Youngjae’s hut was much smaller than Daehyun’s, but it wasn’t any warmer. To Daehyun’s alarm, the boy didn’t seem to have many belongings at all. In the middle of the hut, he saw a few bowls and baskets filled with fruit on top of a table with only one chair. Youngjae had a single bed in one corner of the hut, and his kitchen was on the other side.

He let Youngjae sit him down on a chair as he observed his surroundings, and the younger boy rushed to take a blanket from his bed, draping it over his shoulders. He disappeared to the other side of his hut as Daehyun hugged the blanket around himself, surprised at the warmth it offered.

His eyes flickered to the other corner of Youngjae’s hut, where he saw a pile of unrecognisable material. They looked like grids, woven from grass. He didn’t have time to ponder on them, since Youngjae came back with two cups filled with water. He handed Daehyun one, and sat down across from him on the bed, crossing his legs.

“Will you answer my questions now?” he asked, after taking a much-needed drink.

Youngjae’s shoulders dropped tiredly, and he sighed, resigned. “Fine,” he muttered. “Ask all the questions you wish.”

Daehyun opened his mouth, but stopped when he saw that Youngjae was crossing his own arms. He was still wearing a thin shirt, and didn’t have anything else to cover himself. He hesitated, before sitting on Youngjae’s bed as well, and sharing the blanket between them. Instead of telling him to move, Youngjae gratefully accepted the silent proposition, and they sat close together, their thighs brushing.

“He is a friend of a friend,” Youngjae said suddenly. “That’s all. There is nothing about him that is special, or important for you to know.”

Daehyun flinched at his coldness. “I’m sorry for following you. I just – You deserve your privacy, I was just… worried.”

“Worried?” Youngjae blinked.

Daehyun nodded. “You don’t attend the weekly meetings…”

“I do not attend them because I do not agree with your father’s ideas,” Youngjae said curtly. “I do not mean to offend you, but I don’t think they are doing the best for this village,” he said honestly, and Daehyun smiled, brushing their shoulders together as well.

“I agree.”

Youngjae blinked. “You do?”

“Yes,” the man said. “…I cannot speak up against them though. The villagers admire Sanghyun so much.”

“They love you too,” Youngjae said, turning his head to look at him. “At the festival, everyone wished to talk to you. You are like a prince, to them.” He smiled lightly to himself, thinking about how he had thought the same thing. If he could talk to Junhong, how would the nymph react if he knew the ‘prince’ was on Youngjae’s bed?

“Perhaps, but I could not offer any real contribution to this village anyway,” Daehyun said finally, his expression darkening. He avoided Youngjae’s gaze, and stared at the floor of his hut. “My father and Sanghyun may not please everyone, but at least they have an idea of what to do to survive this winter – even if it is a corrupt idea.”

Youngjae raised a brow, “Corrupt?”

“Sanghyun declared that the men should receive most of the village’s shared supplies,” Daehyun explained grimly. “I don’t agree at all.”

“Nor do I,” Youngjae seemed upset, his forehead creasing. “There are pregnant women in this village.”

“Exactly,” Daehyun bit his lip. “But I cannot argue, for all of the men will stand with Sanghyun, and their wives will be forced to agree too.” He sighed, feeling the stress build on his shoulders. Being the youngest child meant nothing was really expected of him, since Sanghyun had taken partial leadership over the village, but Daehyun wanted to help. He just couldn’t.

“I wish I could help, somehow,” he said wistfully.

Youngjae was staring at him, his lips forming a sympathetic pout. Tentatively, he placed his hand over Daehyun’s and squeezed comfortingly. A blush appeared over Daehyun’s cheeks, but before he could react, the boy was already standing up and walking over to the corner of the hut that Daehyun had been looking at earlier. Youngjae picked up a single net and brought it over, letting Daehyun observe it closely.

“I have been making these ever since the winter started,” he explained, playing with the net in his hands. From up close, Daehyun could see how intricately woven they were, made from grasses and other fibres. Suddenly Youngjae gripped it with his hands and pulled, but it didn’t snap or break. “They are made from the grass in the meadow. I made them to catch fish from the Seas.”

Daehyun looked at the hopeful expression on Youngjae’s face, and felt like a jerk when he said dubiously, “The village has never caught fish successfully before.”

“Because we haven’t learnt how to do it yet,” Youngjae replied. He grinned, “But I think I can figure it out. As soon as I do, will you teach the villagers how? It will be a useful skill for us to learn, don’t you think?”

“How do you know that the fish have not disappeared, along with all the forest animals?” Daehyun argued, and Youngjae rolled his eyes.

“Just trust me,” he pouted, and Daehyun was surprised to hear a hint of a whine in his voice. He couldn’t help the corners of his lips lifting – Youngjae was too adorable. “But if it works, you cannot tell the villagers that I showed you.”

“Why not?” Daehyun stood up, leaving the blanket on the bed. He strode towards Youngjae, who looked at him determinedly. “You would deserve recognition, if you save our entire village from starvation.”

“The village would not believe an orphan,” Youngjae scoffed. The bitterness in his voice made Daehyun flinch. The orphan softened, and when he spoke next, it was with a gentler tone. “It would be best if you showed them, yourself.”

 Daehyun frowned, “You would not receive the villagers’ appreciation, though.”

“Then you would have to thank me enough for the entire village,” Youngjae teased, and Daehyun laughed, feeling his heart soar when a bright grin spread across Youngjae’s face. He hit Daehyun’s shoulder lightly, “You should return home. Are you not ill?”

Daehyun badly faked a sneeze, and Youngjae rolled his eyes.

“Go home, Daehyun,” he said, but he was still wearing a grin.

“I’ll be back tomorrow to help you test these nets out,” Daehyun promised, and Youngjae’s smile dropped, his expression turning into one of confusion.

“You don’t have to do that.”

“I want to,” Daehyun said, and gave him a small smile. “You shouldn’t have to do this alone.”

Youngjae swallowed, feeling his cheeks heat up.

As he led Daehyun outside, he couldn’t stop thinking about how nobody from the village had ever said that to him before.

When Jongup returned to the Underworld, he wondered what the relationship was between Youngjae and that other human. He didn’t know definitely, but judging by Youngjae’s reaction of embarrassment instead of fear, he would be safe. If Jongup had gotten the slightest hint that Youngjae was going to be hurt, he would have brought the human down to the Underworld.

He quite liked Youngjae. After all, he was one of the first humans that Jongup had ever bothered interacting with. The human was patient and understanding, even when he had to lead most of the conversations. Jongup had not seen such kindness in a human before.

The god was still thinking about how strange Youngjae was as he entered the Underworld’s Castle. His eyes immediately searched for Himchan, and he felt his entire body relax when he saw his lover sitting with Yongguk and Junhong at a dining table.

“Jongup!” his lover called, standing up. His eyes were sparkling with excitement, and Jongup found himself instantly walking towards him. When he was within reach, Himchan’s arm curled around him and the Atlantean pressed a kiss into his hairline.

Jongup stared at him, silently questioning why he was practically buzzing with excitement.

“We are having a celebration,” Yongguk announced, looking affectionately at his nymph, who was pressed up against his side. Junhong looked just as excited as Himchan. “On the last day of Junhong’s stay here, we are inviting Olympus’s gods and goddesses to feast.”

“It’ll take a lot of planning, but Himchan says he can take care of it,” Junhong added.

Beside Jongup, Himchan was still bouncing on his toes.

“Guess what!” he enthused, beaming brightly. Jongup’s eyes softened, looking at his love, and Himchan threw his arms around him again. “Yongguk says you may take the day off to feast with us,” the half-god chattered excitedly. Jongup would have melted at his lover’s adorableness if not for the surprise of the news – he hadn’t had a whole day off in centuries. His position as Yongguk’s messenger was irreplaceable, and extremely busy.

Himchan continued talking, overflowing with energy, “Well, you may feast with Yongguk and all the other gods. Junhongie and I won’t be eating. But we will be talking to everyone, especially Haseul!” He smiled at the mention of the harvest goddess, who was one of his closest friends.

Haseul was unsurprisingly proven innocent when Yongguk had stormed into Olympus searching for gods conspiring with Yongnam. Whilst she had blessed the pomegranate that Junhong ate, she had done it without knowing Yongnam’s intentions. Jongup had never doubted her innocence – she was the kindest and brightest goddess he knew.

“My father has been invited as well,” Himchan said, with a tone that was so cheerful that Jongup immediately knew it was faked. Jongup watched his expression carefully, seeing how his bottom lip trembled for a moment, before he steeled himself and continued. “I do not know if he will accept, but it was all I could do.”

When Jongup saw him shrug helplessly, he remembered the years Himchan had spent crying because of his father, and he felt anger flare in his stomach. He murmured, his voice soft, “Are you sure you want him to come?”

In the corner of his view, Jongup saw Junhong blink, hearing his voice for the first time, but he did not stop looking at his lover.

Himchan turned his head and nodded slightly, just enough for Jongup to relax his hold. The messenger still looked worried, his eyes fixed on Himchan, even as the half-god turned back to Junhong and Yongguk.

“Um. Yongguk will explain,” he said quietly to Junhong, his mood dropping in mere seconds. Jongup was still watching him intensely, and as soon as the words left his mouth, the both of them had disappeared from the room.

Yongguk’s hand was in Junhong’s in an instant.

“Is he okay?” Junhong asked worriedly, looking at his lover. “He looked really upset.”

“You heard that his father is invited to the party,” Yongguk said, walking towards a sofa. His footsteps echoed against the tiles, and Junhong followed him, sitting so close next to him that he was almost on top of him. Yongguk pressed a kiss to his temple and spoke – hushed, as if Himchan could still hear him, “Himchan’s father is the god of healing. His name is Hyunwoo. You may not have heard of him before.”

Junhong shook his head, a frown surfacing on his face. Should he have learnt more about the gods of Olympus?

“Do not feel guilt, my love. Hyunwoo is rarely talked about, amongst mortals and gods alike. He is considered a disgraced god by my sister,” Yongguk said, his hand reaching over to hold Junhong’s. He continued without pause. “But yes, Hyunwoo and a human from Atlantis were Himchan’s parents. Himchan inherited his beauty from his mother and his healing abilities from his father.”

“No wonder...” Junhong felt dim-witted for not guessing it before – of course Himchan was related to a god. He was a healer – and mortals couldn’t learn magic if it wasn’t in their blood.

“Hyunwoo used to be the most powerful god in Olympus, even stronger than myself, or Natasha,” Yongguk explained, watching Junhong’s reaction carefully. He knew it was hard to believe that someone could be stronger than the God of Death himself. “His healing skill had surpassed the barrier between life and death, and he could bring back people from the dead, if they had not yet entered the three islands. Even if Natasha and I were displeased, we allowed him to revive mortals for hundreds of years, as long as he did so in moderation.”

Junhong was tense, staring at Yongguk as he waited for Yongguk’s explanation.

“Thousands of years ago, before Himchan was even born, Hyunwoo brought back a murderer from Tartarus, in exchange for gold,” Yongguk said, his eyes dark with rage and voice low as he retold the event. “Natasha and I were both infuriated – he truly believed that he deserved to overwrite the rules of the Underworld.” The man shook his head, as if he was still in disbelief, “Natasha stripped him of his ability to heal and turned him into a worthless god. He was unable to heal anyone or anything ever again; doomed to live an eternity knowing that he had fallen in both power and importance.”

Junhong swallowed, unsure of how to feel. Hyunwoo sounded like a terrible, selfish god, but healing was the one thing he could do. He imagined that losing his forest would be the same as Hyunwoo losing his power forever.

“For that, Hyunwoo hates Natasha. He has never forgiven her, and I doubt he ever will,” Yongguk said, but he didn’t sound like he particularly cared. “But the one person he hates just as much in this world is his own son.”

“Himchan...” Junhong breathed, and the god nodded, his gaze casted down.

“Hyunwoo and Himchan’s mother were in love, but they never married. Hyunwoo didn’t want her to suffer through eternity like he did,” Yongguk said quietly. “So when Yongnam sank all of Atlantis, Himchan’s mother drowned to death, and Hyunwoo could no longer revive her. He could not heal the thirty thousand who drowned with her, either.”

“He blames Himchan for Atlantis sinking?” Junhong said in disbelief, horror forming in his gut when Yongguk nodded. “But that is Yongnam’s fault!”

“Hyunwoo also blames Himchan for not being able to heal his mother from death,” the god murmured, rubbing Junhong’s back comfortingly. The nymph was beginning to breathe heavily, clearly becoming upset. “Himchan was twenty-one, and his skills had not yet developed.”

“That is unfair!” Junhong shouted, frustration pouring out of him. “He is Himchan’s father, and he ought to act like it.”

“I know, I know,” Yongguk soothed, holding the nymph close to him. Junhong was fuming. “Himchan suffered for some years, but Jongup has always comforted him whenever Hyunwoo arrives in the Underworld.”

“Does he come here often?” Junhong asked, hoping that he didn’t.

“Once a year,” Yongguk answered, and Junhong’s frown deepened. “On the anniversary of Atlantis’s disappearance, he comes here to yell abuse at Himchan, and blame him for his mother’s murder.”

“And he is allowed?”

“Jongup and I would like nothing more than to have him banished to Tartarus,” the god said quietly, “but he is Himchan’s last relative, and Himchan refuses to let him go.”

“It’s unfair,” Junhong mumbled. “He has suffered through Yongnam and Hyunwoo, and he is still unable to escape either of them.”

Yongguk nodded and squeezed his hand. He did not want to tell the young nymph, who had lived the majority of his life in isolation, the truth, but he knew Junhong would understand more than anyone.

“Our lives are unfair, Junhong. There is nothing we can do about it.”

This chapter is the end of winter, and marks the halfway mark of this story. All of the ''''''fun''''' will start in spring!

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