Chansung thought he had loved him from the moment he had laid his eyes on him

He was beautiful - a picture to behold with shiny raven hair, brown eyes so deep it felt like he was touching soft soil after the rain, a chiseled jaw, straight nose and cheekbones that could cut you if you dared raise a hand in hopes of touching them. Even as a child Chansung saw all of that, and admired it. Despite the fact that he was much, much younger, and despite the fact that he was the only one who had have shown affection, he had loved him. He had loved Minjun.

His parents and friends did not understand him, thinking it was just a passing craze, a fleeting obsession of a child. Chansung ignored them. They did not understand him, did not understand Minjun.

Minjun would tell him stories of adventures and tales, magical creatures that sought to defeat him but never could, of the princesses he had rescued and the kingdoms he had saved. Chansung listened, mouth agape and fingers lingering on the edges of the page with awe, afraid as if a mere touch would ruin it all and make him run away.

His mother and father watched him with desperation, suspecting that there was something more to it than a simple child’s obsession. From time to time, when Chansung stopped listening to Minjun for a second, he could hear them. “It is my fault.” His mother would say, bitter sadness to her sweet voice. His father would console her, but she would cry and repeat, “It is my fault. I should’ve never told him about those foolish fairytales and humans.”

Humans. With their flat ears, and strong bodies, and hidden strengths. They were beautiful. And Minjun was the most beautiful of them all.

Minjun the great, he was called. The human that had saved the People.

His parents did not understand. No one understood. Humans were real. Minjun was real. Chansung could see him before his eyes, could hear his voice, and smell the sweat and soil mixing together on his body. He was real, and so were humans.

Seasons and seasons, years and years, Chansung had spent with Minjun. When he was forced to leave him be, he thought of him. When he was practicing magic, he thought of the ways he could help Minjun with it. When he was sleeping, he imagined Minjun sleeping next to him, hugging him from behind and whispering of adventures and the faraway lands of steel and stone and magic of a whole different kind.

To anyone that asked, Chansung told. He told of the truths behind the fables, of the worlds beneath their own, where different creatures and folk lived, where fantasies were real and their reality was all but a fantasy itself.

Some criticized him. Most mocked him. His parents looked at him as if he was mad. Chansung did not care, for the truth was by his side. The People did not believe him, but the People were fools, old-fashioned and close-minded and without any sort of imagination out of their own reach. Chansung sought to fix that, and so he kept on speaking.

“Beneath our world, there are many worlds, where magic is different and the folk are different.” He would preach to anyone who had stopped by him on the main square of the town. “The fables we know from our wet nurses’ stories are all real. And in those worlds, we are all but stories from wet nurses ourselves. There are lands of steel towers that reach the moon, and stone roads that house metal beasts and metal demons. There, live humans, and they reign over these beasts! The fearless humans ride them, and enchant them with their magic. Their magic is powerful and might, though it is very different from our own. In this harsh, cold world, the humans prosper, and they grow and bloom. Minjun the great, the same Minjun from our beloved tale, reigns supreme there, a king and god who many worship and call out to. Perhaps, if we unite and work together, we might be able to find a way to travel into this world, into all of the worlds!”

“You are a mad bastard, with donkey tail for ears!”

“Why do you keep shaming your parents, Chansung? Go home and live with the shame you have brought on your house.”

He heard them, but he did not listen. Minjun spoke calming words into his ears, and nothing in the world mattered but that.

And yet when he came to his house, and tried, Minjun was silent.

Chansung stared at the pages, talked to the pages, touched the sculptures, yet there was nothing. Minjun was cruel and taunting, refusing to acknowledge his love. It made him furious. He hated the games Minjun played, encouraging him in the crowd and standing by his side, yet remaining stoic and silent and cold when they were just them in his room.

“I am doing this for you!” Chansung would yell. “How do you not understand this!? You are why I am doing this, you are the one I suffer and face shame for!”

Why would he do this to him, Chansung wondered sometimes. The only answer was that Minjun was not satisfied. He was not doing enough. He was not doing enough.

And so Chansung did more and more.

He drew until his fingernails were filled with paint that would not come off. He scribbled on pages upon pages until his fingers ached and his mind was blank and raw. He sculpted until he could see Minjun’s face again, looking at him through the clay, smiling if only for a short moment. He preached and spoke and told the People of the truth, until Minjun was there by his side once more, whispering and standing by his side, only to disappear and refuse his love all over again.

If there was one thing that drove Chansung mad, it was him.

But he kept doing.

Years passed, seasons changed, and Chansung kept on doing. He traveled far and wide, looked for supporters who would help him in his cause. He listened to Minjun, and did as he was told. His mother had long since passed away from sadness, and his father had rejected him, and so it was just him and Minjun. Just how Chansung wanted.

He did not need anyone but Minjun.

For him, he kept on looking.

And when Chansung took his last breath, his followers continued looking.

And Minjun kept whispering.

A/N: While Minjun is human, it is unclear what Chansung is. Imagine him however you like - an elf, a vampire, a warg, any magical creature you would like. The People can be whoever you want. It is Minjun that can't.

Whether Chansung was right or wrong, whether he was mad or was the only sane one, you decide. The only truth is what you believe in, after all.