“I’ve been masquerading, you don’t know how scared I am.”

Apink, Dumhdurum

The journey back was quieter than it had been when they first started out in the morning, and Namjoon could see why.

The strange encounter at the dilapidated palace was still in his mind; first the invisible force that swept him aside, and then, the fragrance that had lingered in the air when they were about to leave.

“Forget it already,” Hoseok drawled, “You’re starting to scare me.”

“I’m telling you,” he replied distractedly, “That place rubs me off the wrong way. Whoever used to live there, clearly doesn’t live there anymore.”

“Who wants to live in the middle of nowhere? I’d leave too.”

“It’s definitely haunted.”

“For sure. Let’s not go back. I’m getting chills just thinking about whatever threw me back there,” his friend said, letting out a shudder, “What if it wasn’t invisible? What if it was the mountain spirit, coming to claim my soul?”

“I’ll save you.”

“Like hell you will. What are you going to do, fight it?”

“If it comes down to it.”

Hoseok let out a loud scoff. “Don’t even bother. You’re just going to make it angrier. And then it’ll have both our heads,” he muttered, “Thank goodness we’re close to the village. I can smell the damned sewage from here.”

He looked up at his friend, who was sitting atop his horse. “I find it hard to believe that a mountain spirit would look at you and actually consider taking you to be its eternal prisoner,” he deadpanned, “In what universe would you actually bring him some good?”

“Oh, shut up. You’re just saying that because you don’t think I’m worthy enough to be a prisoner,” he said, just as Areum bucked suddenly, “Whoa, what’s going- AHHHH!”

Namjoon stumbled back as Hoseok slipped off his horse, landing on the earthy ground with a thud.

He rushed forwards, grabbing the reins as Areum whinnied in fright. her mane, he shushed her, reaching into the bag at the saddle to give her some fruit that they had prepared for the trip. “Shhhhh, it’s okay, it’s okay,” he murmured, “It’s okay.”

Groaning, Hoseok sat up, confused. “What in the hell?” he yelled, as birds chittered above, “I swear to you, Joon, I’ve been cursed- oh, is that Mistress Song?”

Namjoon looked at him, momentarily confused, before following his friend’s line of sight to see the mistress of the gibang herself - because who else would wear something so bright and with such dramatic flair - emerging from the trees.

She wore an elaborate emerald green hanbok that looked more suited to a party than a walk in the forest, and its finishing touch was a large brimmed hat, which she pulled back to reveal her porcelain visage.

“Fancy seeing you boys coming from the mountain,” she commented conversationally, walking towards them, “Off for a morning walk as well, to strengthen your well-endowed persons?”

“Well, I wouldn’t say well endowed,” Hoseok said with a grin, before noticing the look on his friend’s face, “Yes. We were out on a walk.”

She reached into her basket and pulled out a knife, and he stared at it warily as she walked closer to Areum.

“I was out gathering, and I thought,” she began, holding up a peach with her other hand and cutting into the succulent flesh, “That maybe I’d share the fruits of my labor.”

She held it out in front of Areum, clucking indulgently as she fed the horse. “Would you like some, Namjoon?” she asked, holding it out to him.

The scent of peaches was cloyingly sweet, coupled with the woman’s heady perfume; it made him dizzy, overwhelming his senses. “Thank you, Mistress Song,” he said with a bow, “Although I didn’t know you knew my name this whole time.”

“What about me?” Hoseok whined.

Mistress Song ignored him. “Good boys are hard to find, my dear boy, let me tell you that,” she told him, “What more good men? It amazes me that you still retain your sane disposition after spending time with this young man over here, whose only dream in life is to bathe in the polluted river only to get a few coins-”

Hoseok scowled. “That’s not fair.”

“-before getting a free bath in my gibang, not to mention a fresh change of clothes that I have to keep for him there,” she finished, without missing a beat, “It’s almost noon. I must go, before the sun deflowers my well-kept youth.”

Without waiting for them to follow, she walked towards the village, pulling her hat over her face once more as she hummed softly under her breath.

“And all those times I lured the men to your place!” Hoseok called after her, before brushing off a leaf that was stuck in his sleeve, “If it weren’t for me, she’d never have had so many customers during the mid-autumn festival last year.”

Namjoon chuckled, using his hands to split apart the peach, before handing it to his disgruntled friend. “You mean, the one where you had a mob of scholars from the next village after your tail?”

“There were twenty-four of them,” Hoseok grunted, stuffing the peach into his mouth, “Twenty-four! And I didn’t even get a paycut- wow, this is good.”

They began to walk, with Namjoon splitting his portion even further to give to Areum. “I’m sure she’ll give you more if you don’t show up to her gibang smelling like a chamberpot every now and then.”

“It’s my career!”

The day progressed like a cloud passing in the sky.

I sat on the rooftops as I watched the sun set. I was fresh after a bath, and was lazily brushing my damp hair as I swung my bare feet over the balcony. Despite the very tempting offer by Jihyun for a massage, I wanted some time to myself.

I can’t believe it. All this time, I thought the sunsets in my village were beautiful enough, despite the fact that the villages blocked it from me.

Now I get to see it, raw, in its most perfect form.

And it is perfect beyond any measure.

I took a deep breath, shutting my eyes as I inhaled the fresh breeze of the forest beyond the balcony, lying back against the rooftops as I felt the soft evening breeze.

After years of running out of breath, this was the first time I could properly breathe.

It was the first time I truly felt so peaceful, like I could actually stop time.

How beautiful was that?

I sat up again, stretching my arms over my head and letting out a soft yawn.

And that is what you get when you wake up well before your usual timing.

Although it seems like it was all for naught, with you falling back to sleep while Yoongi was boring you out of your mind.

The easygoing smile on my face paused at the mention of my captor.

Yoongi. Cursed, cursed Yoongi.

Whatever are we going to do, with your little secret hanging over our heads?

I felt the furrow in my eyebrows deepen as I leaned forwards in thought. “He has to be cursed,” I murmured aloud, “Or, what, am I supposed to believe, that monsters exist amongst us?”

But didn’t my father used to tell me, ‘if you don’t see it, then it isn’t real.’

I shook my head vigorously.

But then again, what if he is the mountain spirit that dwells far away from people, hoping one day someone shows up so he can eat them?

I turned, seeing the view of the palace rooftops. “A bit too much effort in trying to lure a human into his lair,” I said softly, “Besides, Eunji, he has a whole army of servants. Wouldn’t it be so much easier if he ate one of them instead? What is the loss of one person anyway?”

If I were a mountain spirit, the first person I’d eat is Viscount Kim.

That cunning little-

I’m certain he knows a lot more that I don’t; he’s just pretending to be an idiot so he can divert my attention.

That, or he is just as stupid as he is sly. I’m not sure what to pick.

Speaking of Viscount Kim, I thought, swinging back down to the balcony to land with as little noise possible. I can’t wait to begin learning something new tomorrow.

I walked into my room, opening the lacquered chest at the far end of the room where Jungkook’s sword was kept. Taking it out from its hilt, the sound of hissing metal was music to my ears.

I held it out in front of me. “On your guard, Yoongi!” I whisper-shouted, swinging it slowly and pretending he was in front of me to meet my blows, “You better watch your back!”

I kicked the air, imagining him ducking as I raised my sword to meet his, punctuating the end of my sentences with a slash.

“That’s for being a bore!”

The sword whistled as I swung it downward, rolling out of the way and onto my feet.

“That’s for being awkward!”

I spun around, my skirts billowing around me as I leapt, jabbing the air.

“That’s for your terrible anger management!”

For a moment, an image of him sprawled on his back came to mind, and I raised it for one final blow, breathless from the weight of the sword, coupled with my effort.

“And this,” I said, my voice dangerously soft, “This is for thinking you could use my father’s love to make him your prisoner.”

Before I could swing it down on impulse, I paused and reached for the hilt, sliding the sword inside as a bead of sweat rolled down between my brows.

I sank to my knees, breathing hard. “Joke’s on you,” I panted, “You got me instead.”

Mother used to say I would one day unleash my rage onto an unsuspecting person, given my tendency to keep my pent-up rage controlled and hidden.

Jimin has the same problem, but because he’s such an adorable sweetheart - not to mention he does all the cooking and the cleaning - Mother never gave him any trouble.

It was always me.

And now, for once, it’s like that’s a good thing and a bad thing at the same time.

It was always me.

I looked around the room, unsure of whether to laugh or cry.

And now, it will always be me.

A knock on the door interrupted my silent contemplation. “Miss Eunji?” an unfamiliar voice called.

I rolled my eyes as I got to my feet. “I told you, it’s Eunji!” I corrected, walking to the door and almost throwing it open.

The child looking at me let out a gasp of surprise, peering up at me with large eyes. “You scared me.”

I blinked, staring back. They have children here too?

Hell, maybe Yoongi is a mountain spirit after all.

He regained his composure and bowed. “My humblest apologies, but I don’t think I can call you that,” he said.

I blinked, looking at the child from head to toe, taking in the bowl-cut hair, the round cheeks, and the way he stood looking so confident of himself. “Who are you?”

He bowed. “Nice to meet you, Miss Eunji,” he said politely, before taking a deep breath, speaking in a rush, “My name is Soonshim. I’m eleven years old. I was born eleven winters ago, so maybe that’s why my favorite color is white-”

“I’m sorry,” I interjected, “What are you doing here?”

He paused, and if it was possible, he looked affronted. “This is my home?”

The attitude. “Um, sure, but what are you doing here?”

“I’m here to relay a message.”

Even more confused, I waited. “You’re not a ghost, are you?”

The look he gave me was comical at the very least. “You can ask my mother about it, if you