I am so sorry, it's literally been 3 months OTL.  Please forgive me.  :(

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                “I won’t do it,” Ms. Kwon says as she swings her door open and goes into the kitchen to make tea.  I stand dumbly in the doorway before I gather myself and step inside.

                “What are you talking about?”  I seat myself at her table and accept the cup she puts in my hands.  “You don’t even know what I’m here for.”

                “Don’t I?”  She gives me a pointed look, and I shrink back a little, staring instead at the leaves at the bottom of my tea.  “You’re not the first bound human to ask for help.”

                “I can’t just let him die like that.”  I bite on the edge of the cup, hopeless.

                Ms. Kwon looks thoughtful for a moment, sipping on her tea agonizingly slowly.  “Can’t you?”

                I can’t believe my ears, slamming my cup on the table, spilling half the contents in the process.  I’m sure my eyes are incredulous and raging, but I can’t care less.  “Of course I can’t.  How could you possibly ask that?”

                She sighs.  “Chanyeol, buffalo have a shorter lifespan than humans.  That’s nature’s work, not mine.”

                I am almost amazed at how easily I am able to transition from anger to desperation.  “I’m in love with a buffalo.”  She stares blankly at me.  “A buffalo.  Please tell me how that is the least bit natural.”  There is no reason for her to sit so silently, and I grow impatient, my chest heaving with anxious breaths.  “You turned him into a human.  Why can’t you extend his life?”

                Ms. Kwon is so still I fear she’s no longer breathing, but she looks me in the eye all of a sudden, and there’s something strange about the way she’s acting, something I can’t quite piece together.  “The human spell is based on physical features.  I cannot play with death.”  But she says this distractedly, and this is the first time I have ever seen her fidget.

                “So why are people bound to white buffalo in the first place?” I ask in exasperation.  “Aren’t we destined to live the rest of our adult lives in grief then?”

                “Chanyeol, where is your mother?”

                The question is unexpected—catches me off guard—and I blink in confusion.  “She’s dead.  Shouldn’t you know that?”

                Ms. Kwon seems to struggle to put her words together, to ask me the appropriate questions.  “What did she die of?”

                “Childbirth.  Sehun never had the chance to meet her.”  An eerie twist in my stomach creeps along my insides.

                “And how old was she?”

                I don’t like this, don’t like how Ms. Kwon stares at me like she knows something I don’t, like she wants me to figure it out with the hints she feeds me.

                “28.”  I shake my head in frustration.  “What are you getting at?”

                Sitting back in her chair, she traces her thumb back and forth across the rim of her cup.  “What do you think I’m getting at?”

                We sit staring at each other for a while, and the concern on her face frightens me more by the minute.

                “My mother was a buffalo?” I finally ask, mouth dry.  “My mother was a white buffalo?”

                The moment the question leaves my mouth, I know it's true, and Ms. Kwon doesn't need to nod in confirmation, but she does anyway.  “You were never supposed to learn your real family history, but,” she sighs, “I suppose that's what great-grandmothers are for.”

                It's too much for me to process at once, and I feel goosebumps form on my skin as I attempt to keep my eyes from bulging.  “Excuse me?”

                She smiles sweetly, as if she hasn't said a thing.  “Your tea's getting cold, dear.”

                “Great-grandmother?” I whisper.

                Ms. Kwon falters a bit and I suddenly realize I know nothing of my own history, that I am the chief's son, and that's that.

                “Our family seems to have a high affinity for white buffalo.  The bond becomes stronger with each generation,” she murmurs.

                I feel my stomach knot.  “How many generations of buffalo in the family are there?”

                She chuckles softly.  “Where do you think the myth comes from?”  My face must reflect everything that's flooding my mind because she pats my hand gently, tries to get me to look her in the eye.  “I'm sorry I can't help you, Chanyeol.  I may have consulted a witch to extend your great-grandfather's life back in the day too.”  I am in such confusion all I can manage to do is look up at her.  “And I may have brought a hundred-year witch curse upon myself.”

                I swallow and attempt to say something, but all that comes out is a squeak.

                “Don't curse yourself, Chanyeol.  Kris—his lifespan has already been set.”