Jongin whittles away at the wood in his hand without any fixed idea yet of what he’s making. He simply follows the grain and hums softly to himself, letting small shavings gather in his lap and by his feet and wondering what shape the wood will choose to reveal to him. On a blanket spread out on the ground in front of him, he’s laid out the wares that he’d brought to sell at the market for the day. From bowls of varying sizes and utensils for cooking or labor, to pretty figurines meant for decoration, all made of wood and crafted by his own hands. His father used to contribute his own crafts for Jongin to sell at their kiosk in the busy marketplace, but Jongin had long ago surpassed his mentor’s skill, the town’s people lauding his work as almost lifelike and going so far as to make requests and reservations for works by his hand months in advance. The young man was still renowned as the best woodworker in all the region, with regular commissions coming in, but after a few years of setting up at the market his craft had lost some of its novelty. Still, Jongin never found he had to work as hard to attract customers as some of the other merchants at the market who hired young village children to cry up and down the streets in an effort to lure buyers. His family was by no means rolling in any kind of splendor, but they lived comfortably enough and certainly better than many of the village people that lived in the small and clustered homes gathered just outside the walls of the King’s city. 

Jongin pauses in his work to smile at an elderly woman and what must be her granddaughter as they stop by his stall, the woman stooping to inspect some of his wooden kitchenware while the young girl coos over a mouse with particularly large ears made of a soft, light wood, almost white in color. The woman finally settles on a set of olive wood long spoons, digging through the draw string pouch at her side for the correct number of coins.

“Grandmother, please,” whispers the girl, “We must take Sunwoo with us.”

She tugs at the woman’s stiff outer skirt with one hand as the other holds up the large eared wooden mouse. The woman spares her granddaughter a fond glance.

“Already picked a name for him, have you?” And then to Jongin, “How much for the little mouse?”

Jongin’s knife continues gliding smoothly over the wood even as he raises his eyes to face the two.

“Don’t worry about him, he’s obviously already chosen a new master. 10,000 for the spoons is enough.”

“But, Jongin-ssi-“

Jongin turns to smile at the little girl who is happily clutching the little mouse to her chest.

“Now, I’m not giving him to you just for free, you know? You’ll have to promise first that you’ll take good care of Sunwoo-yah. Deal?”

“Deal!” She shouts without hesitation. “It’s a promise.”

Jongin smiles complacently at the old woman, holding his hand out for the 10,000 won. 

“See? That’ll be enough for him, then. Would you like me to wrap the spoons for you, grandmother?”

The woman shakes her head at him, placing the spoons into a bag half full already with groceries. “You are too kind, Jongin-ssi. What would your mother say if she saw you giving your hard work away for free like this?”

Jongin makes a wounded face at that; “But it wasn’t for free at all! This little lady had to give me her very solemn word, and now that she has, we’re all settled.”

The pair bowed to Jongin and his hands returned to the half carved piece in his lap after he’d put the coins away. He thought he could just make out the beginnings of a young girl’s face winking out at him from the wood when a murmur began to travel down the stalls. The woodworker’s heart beat picked up involuntary and he had to take a few calming breaths as his hand holding the whittling knife shook with eagerness. He put on a forced air of indifference as his ears strained to listen to the cries now traveling up and down the market place.

“My Lord, what a pleasure to see you out again!”
“My Lord, Welcome back! We’ve missed your presence!”

“Please take a sweet bun, My Lord! They are fresh from the furnace.”

“My Lord, please come to look at our jewelry! We have all new pieces from China and the islands around Jeju-do!”

The wood in his hands got smaller and smaller as he waited impatiently for those soft footfalls to stop right before his own stall. When finally a shadow was cast over the blanket holding his wares, he had to force himself to count to three before looking up, so as not to appear too eager. When he finally let himself raise his head, never stopping the motions of his knife, he gave what he hoped was a casually charming smile. Before him stood two young men dressed in heavy hanboks dyed the magnificent royal blue of the King’s household. One of them wore the shorter hair of a servant while the other’s glossy black hair was tied up by an opulent sapphire hair pin. His eyebrows were thick and glossy black, and would have appeared stern if they did not frame the deepest and largest pair of soft, ebony eyes Jongin had ever seen. The lower half of the doe-eyed man’s face was obscured by a silk mask affixed over his nose and covering down past his chin.

“My Lord,” says Jongin, immediately cursing himself for the mooning lilt in his voice. It must be obvious to the two richly dressed men before him as well, for they exchange amused glances with each other before the shorter haired man steps forward to bow slightly. 

“Good afternoon, Jongin-ssi. I will forgive your inattention, since I know many days have passed since you were last able to appreciate the sight of my pretty master.”

Jongin flushes to the roots of his hair as the man with the silk mask nudges his attendant disapprovingly. So much for casual and charming.

“Good afternoon, Baekhyun-ssi,” he greets back sullenly, “It has indeed been a while since I have last seen you both. May I ask what has kept you so long from the market?” His eyes flit to the doe-eyed man, though the question is directed at Baekhyun. The Lord glances back at him coyly from beneath his thick black lashes. 

“Our great Emperor has been entertaining guests from the seaside provinces, and so my master has been kept very busy these past weeks, singing for them. But the last of the Lords and Ladies left this morning, and my master has missed the liveliness of the market.” 

“Your presence has also been greatly missed, My Lord.”

“Yes,” Snorts Baekhyun, “I am sure the merchants have been missing their most generous patron.”

“There is that,” Snaps Jongin, cutting his eyes sharply at the loose mouthed attendant, before turning a softer eye back at the Lord, “But there is also more than that.”

It was true that many of the local vendors had a great love for the King’s song bird. Though the young man was not allowed to speak outside of the palace walls, and no commoner had ever seen his face without the silk mask, Lord Do had won the people’s affection with his gentle countenance and his generous purchases in the town market place. There were few stalls that would not at this point trip over themselves to give the man anything he wanted, free of charge, only in exchange for a glance of his gentle gaze. Jongin did not know when the rumor had started to spread that the favor of the King’s prized singer assured at least three months of good sales. 

Indeed, there were many rumors surrounding the mysterious man. Some said that he was the child of country peasants who the King’s advisor had heard singing in the fields one day when he was returning from a diplomatic mission, and had been enchanted. Another story claimed he had been a gift for the young king at his crowning, all the way from China. All the stories seemed to have but one common characteristic; That the young man’s voice held Magic. 

At first, the town’s people had feared the masked stranger who would wander away from the denser part of the city surrounding the palace to walk the streets of the marketplace. Jongin remembers when he was a young apprentice, only just allowed to help his father set up the family stall, and the people would whisper and flinch away from the young boy in the lavish blue clothes with an equally young attendant bumbling behind. But as Jongin’s father would always say, hungry people are simple minded and their favor can be bought for just a few coins. Once the KIng’s song bird had proved to be generous with his purchases, the people’s fear was quickly forgotten. 

“Is there anything today that pleases my Lord?” Asks Jongin, gaze gentle on the masked young man that was now crouching before his blanket of goods. Baekhyun crouched just behind his master and focused on his hand gestures. There is a girl in the village outside the city walls who cannot speak and uses the same kind of language of hands to communicate, though only her family understand her. 

“My master would like to know what it is that you are currently making,” translates Baekhyun.

“I do not know yet, My Lord,” says Jongin honestly. “ I only follow the grain of the wood until it reveals its desired shape to me.”

“How poetic,” scoffs the short haired attendant, but Jongin ignores him in favor of meeting Lord Do’s understanding gaze. He signs something to Baekhyun who rolls his eyes but translates faithfully. 

“‘Then we must return tomorrow,’ says my master, ‘So we may see what the wood has chosen to become.’”

“I will look forward to it, My Lord.”

Jongin cannot be sure, but he hopes that the soft curve of the man’s eyes and the tilt of his brows means that he is smiling beneath his mask. The woodworker wonders, not for the first time, if the hidden mouth is as beautiful as the onyx eyes that have so enamored him.