IV. The More You Feel, the Less You Think

Baekhyun made it through the wall of the inner city just as dawn was beginning to creep up on Vasileia. He avoided one group of guards on the whole way back, his head pounding the whole time. Baekhyun told himself it was out of anticipation and nervousness—after all, there was a possibility that he could get caught—but inside, he knew that wasn’t the real reason. A couple of times, he found himself wondering where Heejin was at the moment, then reminded himself that he didn’t care.

He wouldn’t go back three days later. He wouldn’t leave the inner city, because he wasn’t allowed to. Tonight had been a fluke; there would be no more rule breaking. He could take more of the sleeping draught if he still had trouble sleeping; tell the woman to strengthen it if it wasn’t working as well as it should’ve.

He crept through the path as silently as he could, cringing as the snow squeaked under his feet, then making sure he covered his footprints with his power as he walked back. Despite the sun, beginning to peek through from the horizon, the inner city was still relatively quiet and empty. Twice Baekhyun nearly bumped into people from his family, but he got away easily both times, and not long after, his own house appeared. Making sure the area was empty, Baekhyun climbed over the gates, all the while melting and refreezing the snow after him before clambouring into the house. He hadn’t locked the door after himself when he left—and even left a crack, although he wasn’t particularly worried, given how tight the inner city’s security was.

There was another hour before Dowon would be there for the morning lesson. Baekhyun took off his wet shoes, not bothering about the puddles they left on the wooden boards, before dragging himself up the stairs to his room.

Back in his room, it felt as if the whole escapade to the outer city had been some sort of fever dream. Returning to such a familiar place—the only place he had known for his whole life—made the inner city seem even further, more impossible. Had he really been there, for hours, wandering a place that he was forbidden from? It seemed unreal now that Baekhyun thought about it. Unreal, and…

He was tired, and that was the next thought. The bed, with down pillows and the warm blanket, suddenly looked extremely comfortable and cozy. It had been a while since Baekhyun remembered feeling so tired and willing to sleep.

His cloak was soaked through, as was most of his clothing. He glanced at his bed again. 

There was only an hour before Dowon was coming. But amidst the numbness was very prominent exhaustion, finally having broken through the layers and layers of unfeeling, and for once, the prospect of sleep didn’t bring any dread.

Baekhyun stripped of his clothing, too tired to search for anything else in his closet, before crawling under the blankets. A light nap, he told himself. It was comfortable, wonderfully warm, and his eyes drifted shut as if they had a will of his own.

He thought about the outer city again. An elaborate dream, it seemed, with ugly, cobbled roads and run down buildings and a girl with a messily cut hair, strangely bright smile, and an annoyingly bold way of talking.

And when Baekhyun began to slip off into sleep, he thought that if it were a dream, it seemed to be a rather nice dream. 

***

“Get up,” someone was saying.

Baekhyun moaned. The blankets were so warm, and he felt so tired. He didn’t want to get up.

“Baekhyun,” the voice repeated, “it’s nearly noon.”

Noon. It had been dawn when he’d come back, and Baekhyun thought about the outer city, what he had seen, all a strange dream, and then he realized with a jolt of surprise and sat up. The surprise quickly gave into horror when he realized what a mess he’d left everywhere, and how suspicious it would be if he was late to his lessons and Dowon saw the state of his room. And for a moment of terror, he wondered if his teacher had found out about how he’d gone to the outer city.

Dowon was standing at the foot of his beds, arms folded in front of his chest, looking absolutely unamused. He was holding something in his hand, and as Baekhyun attempted to blink away the light, too bright for him to adjust to, and focused on what Dowon was holding.

Then he realized that it was his clothing—the wet cloak, most likely still wet (or at least damp). Now completely awake, Baekhyun felt his heart speed up.

Dowon’s expression was unreadable as always, except this time, the beginnings of a scowl were beginning to pull his lips down. He tossed the clothing onto the ground next to Baekhyun. “You’re late,” he snapped. “You had a lesson five hours ago.”

Baekhyun sat up a bit more, then realized he wasn’t wearing any clothing, and pulled the blankets up over his chest, although relief was already spreading through him. If the man had known he had done something much more serious than simply missing a lesson, he wouldn’t still be sitting there with all limbs intact.

“I’m sorry,” Baekhyun stammered, mind still lingering on something else entirely. “I must have—” he thought about the wet clothes, and the trail of wet footsteps that might’ve still been visible downstairs and how that was to be explained, “—I was really tired and I didn’t wake up on time. I couldn’t sleep last night so I went outside for a bit and it started raining and I got back here and I was actually tired and—”

“That’s enough,” Dowon cut in. “I don’t want to hear any excuses. If you have trouble sleeping, you’re to go to the infirmary and ask for a sleeping draught. If it doesn’t work well, you ask for her to make it stronger. But I expect you to wake up on time for your lessons. You’ve been slacking an inexcusable amount ever since you’ve met your father, and you need to either pull it together or you can forget achieving anything in the future.”

Baekhyun’s chest tightened a little bit at that. He dipped his head. “Yes, sir.”

Dowon gave him one look. “Get dressed,” he said sharply. “You’ve missed all your morning lessons, so don’t expect to eat anything. I need to introduce you to your new tutor.”

“A new tutor?” Baekhyun echoed, slightly curious despite himself.

Dowon’s lips stretched into a thin line. “More action, less talk,” he snapped, and then his heel and left. 

***

When Baekhyun got downstairs, slightly freshened up and wearing the first pair of clothing he could find in his drawer, he saw the reason why Dowon had been acting so antsy, or at least crosser than usual. It wasn’t fully attributed to the fact that he had missed a lesson, at least, because sitting at his dinner table was Miran.

Her eyes immediately moved to him when he stepped into view. She wasn’t wearing the red dress anymore, or sapphire blue, but changed into a slightly more modest, less flashy beige dress. Her lips were still crimson.

“Baekhyun,” she greeted cheerfully, and Dowon gave her such a loathing look that Baekhyun nearly took a step back as well.

He shuffled into the kitchen. “Hi,” he replied cautiously.

Miran patted the chair next to her. “I’m going to be taking over your lessons for the next week or so,” she said, pointedly ignoring the man next to her, “Dowon’s off on a mission.” She beamed. “Don’t worry, you’re in good hands.”

Baekhyun couldn’t help but gape at her. “You are… tutoring me?” he asked.

“That’s what I asked,” Dowon replied, arms folded. “We’re perfectly capable of finding much more qualified people for this who are actually from the family. I don’t understand why you were chosen. We’re definitely not short on teachers.”

Miran shrugged, still smiling. “Looks like they were pretty short on good ones when they assigned you to this job.”

For a moment, Baekhyun thought that Dowon was about to hit her, but he schooled his face into a mask of neutrality and turned pointedly away from her. “I expect you to be on track for all of your lessons,” he said shortly to Baekhyun. “You’re free to request for another tutor if you don’t think your current one is helping you. I’ll be back in a week’s time.” He shot Miran another look. “You don’t need her to you to training. Just go, and be on time.”

Baekhyun frowned at the man. “You are leaving now?”

A nod, and that was it. Then, without looking at either of them, Dowon his heel and stalked out of the house.

The front door closed a little too loudly, and the moment he left, Miran let out a small breath, half laughing and half sighing. “He’s a handful,” she said as if they’d had a mild disagreement.

Baekhyun was still gaping at her. Dowon leaving wasn’t too surprising because it had happened a couple of times, but the fact that Miran had been assigned in his place—as far as he knew, she wasn’t anywhere near qualified. He’d only seen her around his father, and even then… Miran, always with that lighthearted air and perpetual smile—didn’t seem like someone who could teach him.

“Don’t look so surprised,” she chastised. “Sit down and do your readings for today. I’ll cook you something for breakfast. I heard you didn’t wake up until a little while ago, so you must be hungry.”

Baekhyun opened his mouth, snapped it shut, then tried to think of something to say. “You are going to—you’re cooking me breakfast?”

She frowned. “Not hungry?”

“No, I—” 

“Then I’ll cook,” she replied. “I’m decent at it.”

With that, she headed towards the kitchen, nothing more said. Baekhyun stared after her in absolute shock before finally dragging himself back to his chair robotically, head spinning. It was strange. He had thought everything would be back to normal after coming back from the outer city, that the odd chain of events would come to an end, except it was getting worse. Miran here was one thing, but she didn’t act like a tutor. And breakfast—for a superior to cook him breakfast and talk to him like they were the same—Baekhyun couldn’t comprehend.

He sat down stiffly in his chair and flipped open the giant book. Miran was humming to herself as she sorted out ingredients, her beige dress billowing around her as she walked back and forth.

Baekhyun wasn’t even sure he’d seen the maids cook in the morning. Most of the time, if he followed his schedule, breakfast would be waiting on the table, hot and fresh, but the house would be vacant, as if they knew exactly when to leave. He had never cooked (a waste of time, Dowon said when he asked to do it once, especially when there were servants who got it down for him).

“How are your lessons?” Miran called. There was the crackle of oil. “Dowon said you’ve been struggling a bit.”

Baekhyun winced. “I have been… having trouble focusing,” he replied sheepishly.

Miran hummed. “After you met your father?”

He stiffened. “I—what do you mean?” 

“Did it happen after you met your father?” she repeated. “I was looking at the reports of your performance for the past three months. They’re all exceptional. You’ve always been said to be above the standard, but the past ten or so days have been…well, distracted. There’s a dip in the quality of your performance.”

He hadn’t known there were reports on him. But he had known that it was because of his father. “I don’t know,” Baekhyun ended up saying.

Miran pulled a plate from the cupboard, one which Baekhyun wasn’t sure he ever opened. Then, with surprising accuracy, produced a knife from another drawer and began to slice an apple. Despite everything, Baekhyun’s stomach growled.

“You don’t know,” Miran echoed. “Well, I think it was why. It’s the only logical explanation.”

Maybe it was, but Baekhyun wished it wasn’t so. That the simple meeting with his father had thrown him off so much that this—whatever this was—became the outcome. He knew deep down that it was directly related to his father, but part of still wanted to pretend that it wasn’t. He didn’t know why. Perhaps it was the fact that his expectations and reality and differed so much that he couldn’t possibly reconcile them. Either way, he didn’t want it so that it was the only logical explanation.

The next thirty seconds were spent in silence, with Baekhyun barely focussing on the book in front of him. Miran’s words were circling through his head. Dowon had never asked him upfront about how he had been getting sloppier—at least not for the reason, but snapped at him to keep it up—and the topic remained unaddressed between them. Baekhyun had a feeling that his tutor carried the same sentiment as him, some way or another. Miran, on the other hand…

“Breakfast is ready,” she announced cheerfully. Baekhyun blinked, shaking himself from his thoughts as he looked up at her. She had the plate balanced easily in one hand, head tilted slightly.

The food smelled good, and that was undeniable. Baekhyun was feeling hungrier and hungrier by the moment, and he pushed the textbooks aside as Miran placed the plate in front of him before handing him utensils.

“Dig in,” she encouraged.

Baekhyun looked at her, momentarily distracted. “Are you not hungry?”

She rested her chin in her hands. “I’ve eaten this morning. I know you woke up not a long time ago.”

A bit sheepish, he nodded and then stabbed the potato at the side with a chopstick. Miran continued watching as he speared another and put it tentatively in his mouth, still hot.

Baekhyun chewed slowly, then swallowed.

“Good?” she asked.

“Great,” he mumbled around a mouthful, and then realized that he was absolutely famished and dug into the rest of the food.

For a little while, Baekhyun ate in silence (a bit too quickly—he burned himself a couple of times). He was too hungry to care that she was watching him eat, because for some reason, the food tasted better somehow now that Miran had cooked it. It was different because he had watched her cook, rather than just eat the meal that had been set on the table by servants that he barely saw. Baekhyun wasn’t sure if they were under orders, if they found him intimidating, or if it were a whole other reason altogether. And eating with someone sitting across him instead of alone—it was nice. So nice. Nicer than he wanted to admit.

“So,” Miran said as he was cleaning up a little more than half of his plate. “Do you have any plans for today, Baekhyun?”

Baekhyun looked up at her. “You’re… supposed to be teaching me my lesson,” he said cautiously. “I might have another lesson on my power. I’ve been struggling a bit with the newest thing I’ve been learning.”

Miran’s eyebrows arched. “And what’s that?”

“Basically, I pull water molecules from the surrounding air and then—” He shook his head. “Wait. I’ll just show you.”

Her eyebrow remained arched. Baekhyun opened his palm, now finding concentration much easier when he was no longer hungry, and summoned his power.

It was a slow process still, despite how many hours of training had been dedicated to it. Slowly, a drop of water formed, suspended on top of his palm. Gritting his teeth, he pulled more and more of the moisture from the air, watching the sphere grow gradually larger, until it was the size of a first. Baekhyun showed it to Miran.

“This,” he said. “I can control water and wind well, and since there’s always wind, I don’t have much trouble summoning it. But water… I’m okay if I have a source of water, but I was taught to do this in case there wasn’t.”

Miran nodded thoughtfully, not saying anything. A little bit embarrassed, Baekhyun closed his fist and let the water evaporate back into the air. It felt like he had said too much already. It was hard with Miran, because she seemed so… easygoing, especially compared to Dowon, and the words just came out.

When she still remained silent, Baekhyun turned back to the remainder of his meal. Miran appeared to be contemplating something, her chin cupped in her hands. She still hadn’t spoken, and, unsure of what to do, Baekhyun dragged his fork through the plate idly.

Finally, Miran straightened. “Well,” she said. “I’ve heard many impressive things about your power, even before you went to see your father that day. All four elements is unheard of, and besides, you train diligently. You’ll be powerful when you get older.”

Powerful. That had been something Baekhyun had clung onto for most of his life, the thought that he could be more powerful than the people around him, his trainers, and perhaps be like his father one day. Now the word seemed strangely, utterly meaningless.

“I guess,” he mumbled.

Miran swept the plate up from in front of him with a flourish. “Well,” she said cheerfully, his glum attitude apparently not affecting her the slightest. “I think that’s pretty cool. It would’ve been nice to be from a family, to have a power. It must be nice.”

Nice hadn’t ever been a word Baekhyun had used to describe it, but he supposed nothing more could be said to someone like Miran. She didn’t understand. She could live in the inner city for all her life, but without the power and the training, she was never like them. No matter what she said, she didn’t understand—no one did—the feeling of having to train until he could barely move. She didn’t understand what it meant to be told that he wasn’t good enough no matter how good he tried to be. She didn’t understand the feeling he had facing his father. She didn’t understand the guilt—or maybe the lack thereof—of having snuck out yesterday, even if he told himself he wouldn’t do it again. And then suddenly all the negative feelings wasn’t about Miran, but about himself and everything that had happened. Baekhyun thought about how he had held the knife to Heejin’s throat, how he hadn’t been able to make that cut.

The breakfast he ate seemed to rise to his throat as bile.

A new, strange sort of feeling seemed to have replaced the gnawing, painless yet painful emptiness. He wasn’t sure what it was, but it wasn’t any better.

Miran set his dishes down on the counter. “I think we’ll begin with the lesson now, alright?” she asked. 

***

The lessons were bland. Blander than usual. And no matter how hard Baekhyun tried, he couldn’t keep his mind from wandering away, all the way through the walls around the inner city and then down the cobbled, uneven streets all the way to the place where he had met Heejin in the pouring rain. Her hair bothered him, shorn unevenly and messily. Her clothing bothered him too, that she had worn what a boy would’ve. And the fact that she had threatened him with a knife and lied (though he had, as well—done both, actually)—Baekhyun didn’t know why he was still thinking about her.

She had told him to meet her in the same place in three days. That was even more absurd. Out of everything, that must’ve been the most absurd. Maybe she was going to set up an ambush, or try to capture him and hand him over. That would’ve given her a decent sum of money. Or maybe she wanted something from him, because after all, he was from the inner city and she’d figured that much out. Going there was a death trap, and the absolutely most insane idea he could ever entertain. It was dangerous, it was reckless, it went against everything Baekhyun knew, and he wasn’t going to do it.

The more Baekhyun found himself thinking about it, the more curious he was. Then he hated himself for being curious, then he lost focus, and inadvertently failed at whatever task he had been given. If Miran noticed his blundering around and distracted attitude, she didn’t note it. It was weird, given that Dowon would’ve thought of some sort of punishment if he had witnessed such behaviour, but with Miran, she didn’t do so much as mention it. And while she made for much better company than Dowon ever was, the lessons she gave were especially dry, and Baekhyun found himself struggling to retain anything that he had learned. A day dragged on, torturous. Training had him injured, and the healer only voiced her disgust at him again when he dragged himself in, bloody and beat. She didn’t fix the nasty cut near his brow, which was already beginning to bruise, claiming that he deserved the beating. Baekhyun was too exhausted to do anything about it.

The second day wasn’t much better. In his mind, he was very well aware of the fact that he had one day until Heejin’s deadline, and while he tried to divert his attention onto other things, all he could think about was that hole in the wall that divided them. Baekhyun wished it could be fixed. He knew he should report it. But if he reported it, he would be questioned for finding it, and, more importantly, he wouldn’t be able to leave.

But it didn’t matter. Because he could think of an excuse, and he would not leave.

The third day was full of apprehension. Baekhyun’s thoughts were full of the outer city; the cobbled streets, the stone houses, the run-down buildings and Heejin. Miran didn’t comment on his behaviour, which only encouraged the distraction. The day blurred by, and by the time all the servants had vacated the house and Baekhyun had settled down in his room, he was more awake than before, mind buzzing in trepidation and anticipation and confusion.

He wouldn’t. He couldn’t. He had gone against everything he had been taught just by leaving that one night, and Baekhyun knew that he was slipping bit by bit every lesson he fell behind, every time he lost focus. But it was just so tempting, the feeling of walking around without anyone watching him or telling him what to do. It was exhilarating, even, and he wanted to feel it again. The more he thought about it, the more tempted he seemed to be.

It wasn’t a good idea, and Baekhyun knew that very well. For the first bit of the night, he forced himself to open one of the books he had been assigned to read and went through it in a sorry attempt to catch up with everything he had missed. Baekhyun read the words; they didn’t quite compute. It was a miracle he managed to do so for a couple of hours, and then, finally, gave up. It was futile. The best way to get through it without giving in to temptation was to sleep; if he was asleep, there was no more wondering of what he should do.

The sleeping draught he had taken from the healer was empty; besides, it hadn’t been helping him much. Padding over to the window, Baekhyun secured the blinds (even moonlight disrupted his sleeping; concentrated, complete darkness always made it easier to fall asleep) before climbing into his bed. There were three pillows arranged, and he slipped under the covers, grabbed a pillow to hug, and burrowed deep into the mattress.

It was comfortable, but comfort had never been the main issue. There was only so much comfort could do to lull him to sleep, and right now, it definitely wasn’t enough. Sure, he was tired—from training, from the lack of sleep from the previous night, from the bruises and cuts the healer had refused to heal, and from everything. But even when Baekhyun squeezed his eyes shut, his head was spinning and thoughts racing and his mind screamed at him to move move move and to get out. 

Sleep, he commanded himself. 

Utterly useless.

But even if he didn’t sleep, it didn’t mean he had to make the wrong decision, he reasoned with himself. If he didn’t sleep, then he’d just lay awake all night until it was time for Miran to come again in the morning. There was no reason that he should do anything else or go anywhere else—

Before Baekhyun knew it, he was pulling on his boots—he hadn’t even bothered changing out of the clothes he worn during the day—and then a cloak before creeping down the stairs. The wooden boards creaked under his weight and he tried to be as silent as possible despite knowing that there was no one in the house but him. It was a mistake, his mind was saying as he moved, but he still stepped forward without any hesitation. He should’ve stopped, headed back to his bed, and made a better attempt at sleeping. Anything but where he was going.

It was as if his body was moving against his own will. Or, perhaps more accurately, moving to his actual will, the buried part of him that told him to forget all the teaching and for once, do what he wanted to do.

Baekhyun avoided the guards rather easily. He veered onto the small path, covered with a little less snow. The wind was rather biting this time, even if it wasn’t raining, and he hugged the cloak tighter to himself. The chilliness of the night seemed to wake him up even more, which wasn’t really a good thing. Or maybe it didn’t matter.

A couple minutes later, Baekhyun spotted the bush where the crevice in the wall was. Checking the area again to make sure it was safe, he brushed aside the tangle of branches to wedge himself between the crack that had been made between the stone wall.

For a moment, Baekhyun hesitated. It had all happened so fast. A moment ago he was back in his room, debating whether or not he should’ve gone, and all of a sudden, he was outside. It wasn’t too late, he reasoned with himself, to turn back. He could now, but he knew the moment he stepped outside, he wouldn’t be able to.

He glanced back at the path again, now obscured by the brambles of the bush. Then, before he could turn back, he slipped through onto the other side.

The small, wooden shack with rotting boards beneath his feet greeted him. They creaked much louder than his room did, and Baekhyun was terrified that they would give out under his weight and he’d just tumble down—he could sense that there was still some air underneath the boards. A basement? He didn’t want to stick around long enough to check it out.

The streets of Vasileia’s outer city were the same grey that greeted him the previous time. Baekhyun couldn’t help but compare it to the inner city again. It was so different, but to think that the only distance between them was that tall, looming, unforgiving grey wall. It was strange, and perhaps a bit sad.

He swung himself up onto the nearest rooftop, figuring it would be the easiest way to avoid any guards. It would also be simpler to find Heejin that way, and if he didn’t actually want to confront her, he could just hide.

But he was there to confront her. Because she had asked him to meet her again, and he wanted to know what it was for, and to tell her that she shouldn’t have the nerve to say something like that when it was technically in his rights to kill her. And if—just if—she was a danger to the family, then she had to be stopped.

Slightly more reassured by what he also knew to be a lie, Baekhyun headed out again. The hood and cloak were black, enough to blend him slightly more into the night. The moon had gone behind the clouds, and if nobody looked closely, they wouldn’t pay much attention to the shape darting over the rooftops.

It soon became like a pattern. All the training kicked in, making balance a second nature even on the slanted rooftops, shingles slightly slippery beneath his feet. When the gap between two buildings were too big, the wind was enough to carry him through.

It was strangely liberating, the feeling. Sure, there was the training arena, which was large, but it wasn’t the same—especially without weilding a weapon, without having to watch out for someone else.

Baekhyun almost lost track of his destination a couple of times, but Heejin’s words remained on his mind a little too well for him to forget about it. In much less time it took than three nights ago, he had arrived at the small alley that he had first bumped into Heejin. Crouching low on the rooftop he currently inhabited, Baekhyun pulled his hood closer over his face and peered down carefully.

It was empty. There were piles of—what was it? He wasn’t sure—that lined the sides of the walls, just like last time, except the ground wasn’t slick with rain, and neither was Heejin there. He frowned, and for some reason, a bit of disappointment seemed to bloom inside of him.

Baekhyun brushed it off quickly, still scanning the area. If Heejin wasn’t there—fine. He didn’t care. The only thing that bothered him if she weren’t there was the fact that she’d lied to him, gotten him to come out of the inner city just like that, and it made him angry. But the thought that he had come out here for her also rubbed him the wrong way. So, silently seething (at himself or Heejin, he wasn’t quite sure which it was), he waited on the rooftop, all the while glaring down at the street.

A minute passed. Then two. He huffed; his breath gathered in front of him in a white puff of air before dissipating. She’d lied. He’d come here for nothing. There was nothing he could do about it. And, worst of all, was the ball of disappointment that was spreading in his chest. As moments ticked by, he chastised himself for being so stupid.

I am not disappointed, he said to himself. I am from the Byun family. I do not need—

“You’re not very discreet, you know,” someone said.

Baekhyun’s head whipped around at the noise. It came from above and behind him. Not on the ground, in the alley, where he had expected to see her, but on the shingled rooftops, slippery and covered with frost, yet balanced perfectly.

She was wearing the same coat as last time, boots, with trousers that were tucked in messily. Her hair—barely reaching her chin—was tied back in an attempt of a ponytail, the rest of the strands falling out at the side. With ease, she made her way around the roof until she was standing right above him, arms folded over her chest and one eyebrow arched. “Who knew you’d come?”

Baekhyun, previously having been sitting, shot to his feet. He was still surprised, but not so much that he couldn’t speak. “Where did you come from?” he demanded.

Heejin rolled her eyes. She rolled her eyes at him. Baekhyun nearly choked. “I know this city much better than you do,” she replied. There was no hint of fright on her face, and the way she talked was almost like… to a friend. Or maybe friend was too much, but perhaps an old acquaintance. The only person who talked to him like that was Miran, and even Miran wasn’t so forward. “If you’re going to vault over the rooftops, just know that anyone who has more experience is bound to see you, and maybe even catch you. It’s safer to stay on the streets, even if it’s a lot less convenient.”

A wave of defensiveness surged up. “I can handle myself perfectly fine,” Baekhyun snapped crossly.

She had the nerve to look smug. “Can you, Boxian?”

Boxian. Baekhyun blinked at the name, a little bit surprised. He had forgotten the fake name he had fed her the last time they’d seen each other, a couple of seconds before she had pulled out a knife on him and everything had gone wrong. He didn’t like it, wished he had time to come up with something better, but he couldn’t give him his real name, so he had to stick with it. “I can,” he replied. “I think you are the one who should be careful.”

Heejin shifted her weight. She looked at ease—confident, even—and Baekhyun thought that it was a lie, that she really didn’t need to be more careful because she seemed to have everything under control. Her eyes twinkled when she looked at him, and, feeling a little bit self conscious, he wondered what was so amusing about himself. Then, uncomfortable under her scrutiny, he ripped his gaze away. “What.”

“Wow, you’re grouchy today.”

“I am not grouchy,” Baekhyun grouched, sounding very much like a petulant child. “I want to know why you dragged me here.”

She laughed, voice ringing out in the night. Baekhyun wanted to tell her to be quiet because she could be heard and get both of them in trouble and she had no right to be laughing at him, but then there was another part of him that really liked the way she laughed so easily and he wondered if he had ever laughed like that.

When Heejin seemed to finally have gotten control of herself, she shook her head. “I dragged you here, Boxian? I told you to come if you got bored. I never told you to do anything. I think you—” A jab in the chest that had him flinching back, “are the one who wanted to come.”

Baekhyun took a step back from her. “Do not touch me,” he hissed, even though his face felt like it was heating up. She was right, and he regretted his choice of words. “Fine. I want to know why you told me to come here.”

Heejin stretched. “I was bored,” she replied.

He nearly growled. “I tried to kill you. Why would you tell me to come back?”

“You didn’t kill me, did you?”

“Maybe I will,” he muttered darkly.

The threat went over her head. “Your dagger is there, but you haven’t used it yet, and something tells me you’re not going to.”

It took Baekhyun a moment to realize she was gesturing to his weapon that was hanging from his belt. It was the only weapon that he was allowed to keep with him in his house—the rest were locked up somewhere safe. His hand went to his dagger instinctively. “What’s wrong with it?”

“There’s nothing wrong with it,” Heejin replied. “Just that in the outer city, when we carry weapons, we tend to keep it hidden. Flashing your weapon to anyone is as good as having no weapon at all. Though I suppose it’s different for you.”

Baekhyun frowned, a little interested even while he tried to keep his tone neutral. “Do you need a weapon?”

“Depends where you live.”

Baekhyun wasn’t so dumb to be unable to read that she, for some reason, didn’t want to talk about it, so he dropped the topic and waited for her to pick up a new one. When she didn’t say anything, he asked again, “Why did you ask me to come?”

“Ah, ah, back to where we started.” She grinned. “I think I’ll tell you next time.”

He sputtered, took a step forward, and nearly slipped on the tiles. “You will what?”

Heejin didn’t comment on his misstep, but Baekhyun could tell that she was laughing internally. “I’ll tell you next time,” she repeated. “Come on. It’s probably time we find some safer place to chat.” 

***

Baekhyun had no clue why he was still following Heejin or even doing remotely what she asked for, and why he hadn’t yet told her that there was going to be no ‘next time’. He reasoned that it was because it was probably best to remain silent until they’d gone somewhere more secure (again, he wasn’t even sure why he was still following her). They’d already spent too long on the rooftop, out in the open with the risk of being caught.

Heejin didn’t go far. She crossed the rooftops with much more grace Baekhyun thought she’d be able to before slipping deftly through a window. Making sure a cushion of air was supporting him in case he fell, Baekhyun followed her into the building warily. 

Baekhyun didn’t know what he had been expecting, but the worn out, abandoned building with planks boarded over the other windows definitely wasn’t what he had been imagining. Then again, part of him had pictured some sort of ridiculous ambush set out for him, which might’ve been a bit irrational, given that Heejin had many chances to attack him or turn him in if she really wanted to. He watched, more confused than on edge, when she pulled something from the corner. In a moment, there was a small light flickering in the darkness. She set the candle down on the damp, wooden planks in the middle of the room.

He squinted at her. “Why are we here?”

“It’s safer,” Heejin replied, then sat down in front of the candle and stretched one hand towards the flame. She patted the ground beside her with the other hand. “Why don’t you tell me why you came again today?”

His scowl deepened at her. “Why don’t you tell me first?” he asked sharply.

Heejin tilted her head at him. She wasn’t scared of him, and that observation never failed to amaze Baekhyun. She didn’t flinch when she talked to him, she didn’t look down, didn’t do anything the servants in the family did. At the same time, she didn’t speak to him like he was an ignorant child, like someone who had to follow orders, like his tutors and trainers did. She spoke to him like… an equal.

And it felt so nice. Which was strange, because he had always assumed that it would be best to be treated like a superior, but Baekhyun found that it wasn’t it. Then the thought became too absurd to entertain any longer, so he shoved it inside and folded his arms again.

“Okay,” Heejin decided. “Here’s what I think. You’re from the inner city. One of the Byun family’s kids, right? Training to become a member of the family?”

He grunted in acknowledgement.

“I think you’re here,” she started, “because no matter what sort of luxuries they offer you in the inner city, it’s not going to be enough.”

Baekhyun’s head snapped up. “What?”

Heejin, however, wasn’t looking at him. She was staring thoughtfully at the center of the flame, a flame that Baekhyun could easily snuff with a flick of his wrist or raise so that it was huge enough to burn the godforsaken building down—but he didn’t do either. He just listened.

“I think that the inner city has all the riches you could possibly want, but being a part of that family robs you of everything else. And no amount of material goods could ever make up for a real family, friends, and…” Heejin waved her hand. “Everything. And you’re here because you realized that, whether you want to or not, and you know that there’s something wrong with the inner city.”

For a moment, Baekhyun thought back. Lessons everyday—from textbooks to training to everything in between—he had never thought about it. He was busy enough. He hadn’t exactly been happy—just looking forward to some things, really—but had he been happy? No, but not unhappy. Until—

He opened his mouth to deny it. The only thing that came out was, “How do you know about the inner city?”

She shrugged. “We’ve all heard stories,” she replied. “And you seem to fit those stories pretty well. What’s your power?”

She was so forward about it. So forward, yet so unafraid. It made his head ache and heart pound and it was so confusing. Baekhyun could only stare at her.

Heejin was beginning to frown. “Don’t tell me you don’t have powers?” she asked before patting the ground beside her. “Sit down. I’m not going to bite.”

Baekhyun stared at her for a couple more seconds before making his way next to her stiffly, still frowning. He wasn’t bad at reading people, but it wasn’t usually this difficult to tell someone’s intentions. But with Heejin, he couldn’t even begin to imagine just what she was thinking and what her next move was going to be. The fact that they were here was a mystery in itself; what did she want from him? It was all so confusing.

He settled down on the floor next to her, eyeing her through his periphery. Instead, focusing on the flame, Baekhyun drew on the small flicker of light.

Abruptly, the fire flared. Heejin let out a small exclamation of shock, scrambling back a little bit, before letting out a huff of breath through her nose. “Fire?” she asked.

Baekhyun was slightly surprised she wasn’t any more scared, but he shrugged. “Kind of.”

“You can’t just kind of have a power,” she protested.

“What do you know?” He paused, then added, “Commoner.”

Part of Baekhyun hoped she’d fall for the bait and be offended by his words, but Heejin just let out another huff. “Spoiled, royal brat,” she shot back. “Maybe I’m a commoner, but I’m not stupid, Boxian.”

That, she was not, and he was inclined to agree. Instead, he told her, “Disobeying curfew and wandering outside so late at night does not exactly seem smart.”

“That’s rather rich coming from you.”

“What is that supposed to mean?” he snapped, even if he knew the answer very well.

Heejin gave him a smug look. “I’m sure you’re perfectly capable of figuring it out yourself if you’re as bright as you claim.”

Baekhyun didn’t know why he was still sitting there, on the dirty, damp floor with her. He didn’t reply, but instead scowled at her and made sure she saw his expression.

Silence blanketed the two of them. Baekhyun thought about the situation a bit; here he was, in the outer city, sitting with a girl his age talking about—what? What were they even talking about?—in the middle of the night. What did he want from her? That, he couldn’t answer. What did she want from him? He couldn’t answer that either, but the question bugged him, demanded him to find a reason.

Baekhyun turned to look at her slightly. “Why did you ask me to come here?” he asked yet again.

“I thought I said I’d tell you next time.”

Heejin was probably stubborn enough to keep the information from him. So, “I will tell you what my powers are if you tell me why you asked me to come.”

Her eyebrows rose. “That actually doesn’t sound like a bad deal.”

His jaw ticked. “Well?”

“Fine. I’ll tell you. You go first.”

Baekhyun shook his head. “No. You go first.”

“How do I know you’re not going to just end up not telling me? Besides, it’s a leverage I have in making sure you’ll show up next time. Don’t want to be wasting that chance.” She was smiling now, head tilted and Baekhyun thought that she really did look pretty, despite the ugly clothing and uneven hair—no, she looked pretty because of that as well—and then horror descended when he realized what he was thinking.

Hoping his face wasn’t as red as it felt like it was, he grumbled, “You have my word.”

A pause. Then, “Fine. I asked you to come again because I thought it was interesting talking to someone from the family, and you didn’t kill me. I wasn’t expecting you to show up again, you know? And the fact that you did means that you’re not going to hurt me. And you’re… not a bad person. Not like—” Heejin seemed to have caught herself. “Anyway, there’s your answer. Now it’s your turn.”

“Not like what?”

“Another question for another day.”

Baekhyun glared at her. She didn’t relent the slightest, eyebrows raised and waiting for his reply.

It was a bad idea. If he gave away his power, and she reported him, then they’d definitely know it was him. On the other hand, she hadn’t revealed him yet, and if she were, it was probably too late for her. Besides, he had as much leverage over her as she did he, so he supposed…

“Earth, air, fire and water,” he blurted before he could chicken out. “The elements, really. But I don’t really prefer earth and fire. It’s much easier for me to summon air and water.”

Heejin nodded thoughtfully. “I’m impressed you told me, Boxian.”

He bristled. “I gave you my word,” he started, unable to hide the offended tone, “do you think I would have so little honour as to—”

“Woah, calm down,” she interrupted. “I’m just joking. No need to get so defensive.”

Baekhyun eyed her, a bit chagrined at his own eruption. It was obvious that Heejin liked to joke; he really didn’t need to get so defensive over it.

“I still don’t understand why you wanted me to come,” Baekhyun muttered after a moment, eager to divert the topic back to her (and also rather curious). “Was it just because I’m from a family? Am I that… interesting?”

“Don’t get ahead of yourself,” Heejin shot at him. “Interesting, with lack of another word to describe it. And yes, you’re the first person from a family that I’ve actually spoken to, though I’ve seen many of the Byun family’s guards around.”

“So why?”

“Because you didn’t kill me,” she replied. “And because you weren’t supposed to be there either. I told you, didn’t I? I figured that if you were out here, there was a reason for it, especially when it’s so obviously against the rules. And I was right, wasn’t I?”

“I could hurt you,” he said. “I could still kill you. I could report you to my family.” 

“You wouldn’t do either of those two,” Heejin replied steadily. “And if you report me, I’d report you as well, and we know it’ll end badly for both of us. So I assume we’ve come to a compromise in between.”

She was right, Baekhyun supposed. Gathering his legs to his chest, he continued to stare at the candle flickering in the middle of the darkness, unsure of what to do or say.

Despite the silence, though, it was nice. It was companionable. Baekhyun didn’t feel tempted to break it, content listening to the sound of the wind whistling outside, the way it made the wooden boards rattle against each other. It wasn’t the same sort of noise he heard at night in the inner city. And despite the fact that the house wasn’t well insulated, he felt comfortable. Drowsy, even, looking at the fire move, like guided by an invisible hand. Heejin’s breathing was rhythmic, and he found himself matching his own to it.

It was when the wind gave a particularly loud shriek that tore a board clean from the wall that Baekhyun jerked up, only then aware that he had nearly fallen asleep. He turned to Heejin, who was watching him with her chin propped on her hands.

“What?” she asked.

“I—” He looked at the board. “What happened?”

“It happens. The wind’s strong—”

“I have to go,” Baekhyun said, realization dawning on him. He didn’t know how long he’d been with her, but he was beginning to see that it had been too long. He had lessons the next day, he wasn’t even supposed to be there, and this—this wouldn’t happen again. Couldn’t.

All at once, the faint sense of tranquility he’d managed to grasp disappeared when he scrambled to his feet. The wind turned into a howl, and a sudden chill slipped into the peacefulness. It was quiet now, either too loud or too quiet, and Baekhyun’s head was pounding with the need to leave. He couldn’t be there, and so, he scrambled for the windows.

“Boxian,” Heejin said, getting to her feet as well. “What’s wrong?”

He looked back at her. “I need to leave,” he repeated.

She opened to say something, then seemed to think better of it. Instead, she held up three fingers. “Three days,” she replied. “Same place. If you’d like.” 

Baekhyun turned towards the window without giving her a reply.

“And,” Heejin called after him, “take the road. It’ll be longer, but it’s much safer than the rooftops."

_________

Sorry this took a while!

Things are.... speeding up a bit :D

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