Song recs for this chapter: I listened to the greatest show from the greatest showman while writing this chapter. I hope you enjoy <3

Oh Sehun crumpled his paper in disgust. The dragon he had been trying to draw looked like a dog with wings. 

“Be right back,” he whispered to his friend, Lee Taemin. But as he started toward the paper cupboard a sharp voice asked, “Something wrong, Mr. Oh?”

Sehun froze. One of the problems with having Mr. Kim Junmyeon for art was that you never knew when it was safe to get a fresh sheet of paper. Clearly, this wasn’t one of those days. 

The short, slightly muscled teacher briskly walked over to stand in front of Sehun.  “Didn’t you hear the school board has frozen spending?” He asked. “That means no new paper orders for the rest of the year. So tell me, is another sheet of paper needed because that drawing was so bad—or because your talent is so important?” 

Mr. Kim gave Sehun a smug, nasty smile and waited for him to answer. 

Sehun hesitated. He wanted to say that his talent was that important, but he knew that answer would only bring more scorn. He decided to say nothing. After a moment of uncomfortable silence, he turned and stumbled back to his seat. 

As Sehun slid into his chair, Taemin pointed to a square of lavender paper tucked under the corner of one of Sehun’s books. “From Xi Luhan,” he whispered. “Special Delivery.”

Sehun resisted the urge to reach it and grab the note. No sense in giving Mr. Kim something else to complain about, he thought. But what am I supposed to do now? My paper is gone, Mr Kim won’t let me get more, and I’ve got fifteen minutes to go before art is over. 

His eyes drifted back to the note. He found himself reaching towards the paper. Quickly, he free his hand back. Where’s, Mr. Kim?

Looking around, Sehun spotted him near Huang Zitao’s desk  

Probably telling him in detail what’s wrong with his picture, thought Sehun. Pretending to look at something else, he tugged the lavender square from it’s hiding place, unfolded it, and began to read. Before Sehun could finish, Mr. Kim came up and snatched the note from his fingers. 

“Well Mr. Oh,” he said gleefully. “I see you’ve forgotten my feeling about notes in the classroom.”

Sehun’s cheeks began to burn. “Give it back!” He said. 

“I’m afraid I can’t do that,” replied Mr. Kim, with mock sincerity. “It’s against my rules. However, since you didn’t have a chance to read it to yourself, I will read it aloud for you before I destroy it.”

“Don’t!” Cried Sehun in terror. 

But Mr. Kim had begun. “Dear Sehun,” He read, in mincing tones. “I think you are incredibly cute, even if you are only in the sixth grade. I am going to kiss you after school today if it’s the last thing I ever do.” 

Mr. Kim paused, then said, “Oh, yes— there’s a P.S. According to this, you have beautiful eyes.”

The classroom room coed with laughter. Sehun closed his “beautiful” eyes, his face so hot that even the tips of his ears were burning. 

Mr. Kim folded the note and tucked it into his pocket. “No need to embarrass he person who wrote this by reading his- I mean their signature,” he said. “Let’s just remember that notes are not appreciated in this classroom.”

The injustice made Sehun’s head spin. For trying to read a note someone else had given him? He was made to suffer complete humiliation. Yet the person who sent the note was getting off with only a warning. What was going on here?

It didn’t take him long to figure out the answer. Luhan’s father was in the school board, so Mr. Kim wasn’t going to embarrass him. Sehun quivered with the unfairness of it. 

- - -

“It stinks,” he said to Taemin that afternoon. “Stinks, stinks, stinks.”

“I agree,” said Taemin, pushing up his thick glasses with a long, graceful forefinger. “But then again, everyone knows Junmyeon hates you.”

Sehun sighed. “All I ever wanted to be is an artist. And the only teacher who’s ever really disliked me is my art teacher. I want to know why.” 

Taemin shrugged. “Forget it. Just be glad he isn’t judging the art contest.”

Sehun modded. He and Tae has been trying to win the spring art contest for years. First prize had the chance  to paint the main window of Park Chanyeol’s Department Store. Sehun believed he had the best entry for the last two years. He hadn’t won though, because top spot traditionally went to a sixth grader—whether or not they actually had the best work. Now he was a sixth grader, so this should be his year. He was the best artist in the school, and everyone except Mr. Kim knew it. The only person who might possibly beat him was Taemin, and they had already decided that whichever of them won, the other would help with the painting. 

However, that didn’t take care of his current problem. The fact everyone in sixth grade knew Mr. Kim was a creep and had done nothing to protect Sehun from the teasing that followed the public reading of Xi Luhan’s love note. Taemin was the only one who showed him any sympathy. The other boys, particularly Kim Jongin and Byun Baekhyun, has razzed him unmercifully. 

Not that that was anything new. 

“Maybe you should just tell everyone who sent the note,” suggested Taemin. 

“Are you out of your mind?”

Before his friend could answer, Sehun’s stomach lurched with fear. “Tae,” He hissed. “It’s Luhan! She’s heading this way!”

“How did she find us?” Asked Taemin. “I thought we did a brilliant job sneaking away after school.”

Sehun didn’t have time to worry about Luhan’s tracking abilities. “Just hold her off,” he said desperately. Without waiting for an answer, he sprinted away. 

“Oh Sehun!” Cried Luhan. “You get back here!”

Kim Jongin and Byun Baekhyun were lingering at the end of the block. “Hey, lover boy!” Called Jongin. “What’s the matter? Don’t you want your kissy-poo?”

“Shut up, fat head!” Yelled Sehun, as he raced past. 

He regretted the words immediately. “Come on, Baek,” yelled Jongin. “Let’s hold the shrimp down so he can get his kiss!” 

Whooping with delight, they joined the chase. Sehun pumped his long legs even harder. The thought of Luhan’s puckering lips gave him new speed. Even so, he could hear Jongin and Baekhyun gaining on him. 

Taking a gamble, Sehun left the sidewalk and began dodging through backyards. He could still hear the voices of his pursuers. Putting in an extra burst of speed, he shot past someone’s laundry, down a long driveway; out to a street, then around a corner. 

The shrieks and shouts began to fade, but Sehun ran on until his aching lungs finally forced him to slow to a jog, and then a walk. Bending over it hold his throbbing sides, he listened carefully. 

Silence!

He stood to look around. A little prickle ran down his spine. I’ve never seen this street before. 

That wouldn’t have been so strange in a city. But Exo Planet, despite its name, was a small town. 

I’ve lived here all my life. How can I be lost? 

Feeling somewhat nervous, Sehun followed the street until it game to a tee. He turned right, and entered what began to seem like a maze of unfamiliar streets. 

Suddenly he noticed a trace of fog moving around his feet. The afternoon seemed darker than it had just a few moments before. 

As he turned in a slow circle, trying to find the way home, he spotted an old-fashioned shop at the end of the street. Its large front window curved ought to make a display space. Thin strips of wood divided the window into many small lanes of glass. Printed on the window were the words:

Kim Minseok’s Magic Supplies

S.H. Elves, Prop. 

Forgetting his momentary panic, Sehun walked toward the shop. Who could resist? Maybe I can find something to make Byun Baekhyun, Kim Jongin, and Xi Luhan disappear! He thought, feeling deliciously cranky. 

He didn’t really expect that, of course. But he was still excited as he approached the shop. 

A large brass knocker hung in the center of the door. Sehun hesitated. Should he knock?

You don’t knock to go into a store, he told himself with a shrug. He pressed on the door. It swung open. A small bell tinkled overhead. 

Once inside, Sehun began to smile. The shop was dark and mysterious. It smelled of some sort of incense—spicy and sharp, yet strangely pleasant. 

Magician’s equipment crowded the shelves, the display cases, even the floor. A section of one wall was given to cages filled with rabbits and doves, as well as an odd selection of toads, lizards, and—Sehun squinted just to be sure—yes, bats! He walked over to the cages and smiled in approval. The mild, musty smell told him the animals were well cared for. 

After a moment he turned from the animals and wandered toward the back of the shop. To his left was a shelf lined with top hats. Chains of  jewel-colored silk scarves stretched across the walls and dangled from the ceiling. Directly ahead of him, resting on a pair of dark red sawhorses, was an enormous box made for sawing people in half. 

Sehun spotted a man—Mr. Kim Minseok?—polishing a glass countertop. The man’s long brown, slightly graying, hair hung around his shoulders; his fairly light complexion had almost no wrinkles. To say Sehun was surprised is an understatement. Maybe he’s just graying early, he thought to himself. 

Behind the man, a stuffed owl sat on top of the  register. At least, Sehun thought the owl was stuffed—until it turned its head, looked directly at him, and began to hoot. 

Mr. Kim put down his cloth. “Peace, Jondae,” He said. “I know he’s here.” He turned to Sehun and frowned, as if the idea of a customer was truly annoying. “Well, what do you want?” He asked sharply. Maybe all people with the last name Kim are nasty he thought spitefully. 

Sehun blinked. “I...I don’t think I want anything,” he said. “I just came to look around.”

“No one comes into this shop just to look around,” said the man. “But you can start that way. Let me know when you’ve found what you need.”

Before Sehun could say he didn’t need anything, the old man picked up his rag and returned his attention to the countertop. 

“What an old fruitcake,” muttered Sehun, turning his own attention back to the display cases. 

In the first, he found a skull that looked almost real. “The Skull of Truth,” read a hand-lettered label underneath it. Next to the skull was a collection of Korean rings. And next to the rings, resting on a kind of pedestal, was a shining, multicolored ball, almost the size of his fist. A thousand different hues seemed to shimmer across its glistening surface. Sehun turned his head slightly and the colors shifted into a new pattern. He blinked and looked more closely. The colors were moving on their own. 

“How much does this cost?” He asked. 

Mr. Kim glanced up from his work. “You don’t want that.”

“How do you know whether I want it?”

“That’s my business.”

Sehun wasn’t sure if the man meant knowing that sort of thing was his business, or if he was just saying not to be nosey. 

Whatever he meant, he was wrong. Sehun did want the beautiful, ever-changing sphere. 

“How much is it?” He asked again. 

Mr. Kim sighed and shuffled over to the display case. “Do you have any idea what this is?” 

Sehun shrugged. “Some kind of marble?”

“Don’t be a fool. Look at it again.”

Sehun stared at the strange sphere. “All right, it’s too big for a marble. What is it?” 

“Never mind.”

Sehun swallowed. This guy was even crazier than he looked. If he hadn’t wanted to know more about the ball he might have fled the shop right then. Turning his attention back to the display case, he said, “Can I see it?” 

“You’re seeing it now.”

Sehun barely stopped himself from being truly rude. “I mean,” he said carefully, “may I look at it more closely?”

The old man hesitated. After a moment he knelt and opened a wooden drawer at the bottom of the cabinet. It was filled with boxes of all sizes and colors. The old man chose one lined with soft cotton. 

Next he reached into his pocket and pulled out and enormous set of keys. He searched through them, muttering to himself, until he found the one he wanted. It was long and black. Unlocking the glass door on the front of the case, he slid it to the right, reached in and picked up the ball. Placing it gently in the box, he stood and put he box on the counter. 

Sehun swallowed nervously. Something strange seemed to be happening inside him. “It’s beautiful,” he whispered, reaching out to pick it up. 

The old man moved as if to stop him, then dropped his hand and shrugged. 

Sehun lifted the sphere out of the cotton and smiled. It felt warm and comfortable in his hand. He wanted it more than ever. 

The old man blinked. A puzzled expression wrinkled across his face. Muttering to himself, he reached out, took the ball from Sehun, and stared at it. For a moment he seemed worried. Then he sighed and shook his head. 

“Do you have a quarter?” He asked. 

“What?”

“I said, do you have a quarter? You may have it for a quarter.”

Sehun looked up in surprise. “I thought you said I didn’t want it.”

The man looked directly into Sehun’s yes. 

“You don’t,” He said softly. “It wants you.”