Sans San

The first sense coming back to you was the nausea, you felt horrible. You were afraid to open your eyes, you figured everything would be spiraling around you.

Not that you were able to open them either way.

The next thing was the headache, your temples stinging so intensely - as if something was locked around it and applying too much pressure.

You were laying down somewhere, a plush and soft surface underneath you. Your hands stirred, grabbing the fabric in an attempt to push you up, but you couldn’t muster the strength for it.

“Easy, yeah? Take it easy”, you heard someone say.

You didn’t recognize it, but you knew the face when you dared to open your eyes. He had been there in the dining room, that man with that androgynous face. You were weak, every muscle in your body was sore, but you still managed to move away from him as much as possible, almost falling off the mattress on the other side.

You were laying on a bed, a huge one, the sheets already felt incredibly expensive.

“Calm down”, his voice was soft, “I won’t hurt you, I promise”.

You didn’t believe him, not in the slightest. They had basically kidnapped you - making you lose consciousness with damn chloroform, taking you here and- apparently also changed your clothes. Plus - they were part of the mafia. They surely had done worse.

You couldn’t get up to run away - your whole body was betraying you, so you just slid off the bed and hid behind it.

You didn’t answer him, too distracted by your own heart, beating so loudly, you could hear it.

“I know you must feel unwell, you should get some rest. After effects of chloroform can be harsh, but we had no other choice”.

No other choice?

You pulled your naked legs to your chest, you were wearing a short nightgown. You wondered who of them had been changing your clothes while you had been blacked out. Well, actually you didn’t want to think about it.

“You should dress and get down to lunch, I’ll tell him you need a moment”, he said.

Him?

Hongjoong.

Your lips wobbled, just a little. You pressed a hand to your mouth before a sob escaped your throat.

You didn’t want to meet him again or to come out of this room - except it was for you to go home.

But most importantly, you didn’t want the man in front of the bed seeing or hearing you cry. So you held it back as hard as you could, just the hurried sniffle of your breathing telling him how you felt.

“I’ll wait in the hallway for you, okay? Take your time”.

His voice was so.. soft? Almost pitiful?

It made you turn your head to him and there you saw it. The kind of friendliness in his eyes no one could fake, just real and honest friendliness. It shook you to your core, debating if you were even allowed to see that.

So without speaking, you looked down at your feet again and waited for him to get out of the room as he promised. The soft click of the door made all of your built up tension peak and then fall so abruptly.

You lost the ability to hold yourself up, just flopping to the side. Again, a hand on your mouth muffled your screams for help. They needed to come out, you couldn’t stop them from bubbling up, so you had to drown them by silencing them to save yourself. You couldn’t let anyone hear this.

Your other hand clawed at your skin in your neck, just grabbing onto the first thing that you got hold of. The pain was kind of grounding you though, distracting you from the agony deep down in your heart.

There was a possibility you’d never see your family again - maybe you would die before that, maybe they would never let you go back.

Your breathing was restless, heavy, it hurt in your chest with every single movement of your ribcage. But instead of trying to go for shallower breaths, you sucked in the air greedily, wheezing and grunting as you filled your lungs and tears stained your sight.

For a moment you thought you’d pass out again and you prayed for it. You prayed it would just end with it and once, twice - you managed to gather enough strength to knock your head against the marbled floor in hope it would make the process quicker. But you just got dizzy, the pain in the side of your head wasn’t enough to lose consciousness.

You huffed, letting your hands fall to the ground, too weak to scream either way.

When your eyes managed to focus something again, it was the curtains of the floor length window right in front of you. You scrambled, gripping it to pull yourself up to open the window and crawl outside.

It took a few attempts to get up on your feet, you were swaying dangerously, falling to one knee and catching yourself on the railings before you mostly stood safely.

You looked down, peeking over the edge for a good minute. There was a garden down there, partially surrounded by the gigantic building you were trapped in. But there was a conveniently located bush right under the balcony - a really dumb thought began to form in your head.

The knock on the heavy door only spurred on your darkest wishes - you had to think fast. Your knuckles turned white just by the force of your grip around the cold metal bars. You didn’t want to do it, you really didn’t. But when the man entered the room again and saw you lean over the railing you also had to act fast, because he was crossing the distance to you with fast strides.

He probably just wanted to make sure you’re ready and came into the scene of you almost jumping - of course he was storming to you to grab you harshly and pull you back in.

“Noo!”, you screamed, clawing at his hands in a futile attempt to free yourself - suddenly you were so sure you would jump and just free yourself, “Let me go!”.

He wanted to press a hand to your mouth to keep it shut and you panicked, your heart almost bursting out of your chest. The last time that happened you woke up here, so you were determined to not let it happen again. Without thinking, you opened your mouth when his palm moved to your face - biting down as hard as you could manage in your weakened state.

“Ahhh, fuck!”, the man exclaimed, letting go of you momentarily out of pain.

But you weren’t free for long, he pulled you close to him again, both arms wrapped around you tightly to make you stop thrashing.

“Listen!”, the dark haired said in a hushed voice, “Listen to me”.

“Don’t touch me!”, you growled, trying to kick him.

You knew fighting back was dumb, you knew these people were dangerous - but you couldn’t help yourself. What was left to lose here?

“You wouldn’t die jumping from that height”, his voice was strained, “And then? He will find you, there is no way you can leave. He will never let you be unattended again! Never! Do you understand that?”.

Your movements froze, your body was completely giving up now. You were just dangling in his arms. It dawned to you that he was right and that fact was crushing you, everything hurt and your limbs felt numb.

There was no point of resisting anymore - everything you thought about doing would just result in more pain. Tears were running down your cheeks before you could even notice, your lips parted, but no sound dared to come out.

“Get dressed now, it would be better if you do”.

“Why would you even help me?”, you muttered, more to yourself than to him.

When he noticed your lack of fighting spirit, he reluctantly let go of you and moved to close the door for good.

“I’m not. We never had this conversation”, he said flatly, the patient tone gone now - the pity was back though, “It’s not like anyone would believe you”.

Your breathing got slower again, but the agony in your heart was as deep as before. With slow and dragging steps, you walked up to the closet that took in an entire wall. The stupid amount of clothes in it was overwhelming, in another situation you probably would have squealed about this. But the soft and expensive fabric felt like chains and collars, bounding you even more to Hongjoong.

The man was still lingering behind you, not moving to leave in the slightest. Well, it was honestly fair at this point, after you tried to flee the moment he left before. So he stayed, although he had the decency to turn around.

Your tired eyes scanned the room for a moment, there was nothing in reach you could effectively use as a weapon to hurt him enough to make another attempt to reach freedom again. And he knew that, that’s why he let himself be vulnerable to you.

You put on the least expensive dress - at least from your perspective - you felt like everything else made you just look like a luxurious slave.

You were led downstairs, the marbled floor was pouring like a waterfall down the steps and onto the ground in endless waves, leading to an area where a few armchairs were placed around a dark wood table.

“Ahhh, there she is”.

His voice made you freeze in your movements, a shudder of anxiety rolling over your spine, it made you physically jolt.

Hongjoong stepped towards you and you felt yourself being in the same situation as last evening. Two men on either side of you and you wanted as much distance between you as possible. But Hongjoong was faster than you could think, taking your hand in his and didn’t let go even when you tried to pull it out of his grasp.

“You look pale, do you feel alright, sweetheart?”, he asked, his facial expressions as soft as you remembered.

Your breath got stuck in your throat, you felt the nausea coming back so fast, it was like a hit in your face.

“Don’t call me that”, you whispered through gritted teeth, forgetting to be cautious when you snapped, “Why did you bring me here?”.

Hongjoongs eyes flickered to the man behind you.

“Seonghwa, make sure the food is ready, yeah? Tell them to get some water, too. She seems so weak”.

“I’m talking to you!”, you growled.

This was dangerous, but you were so pent up and exhausted that your speech was hard to control.

Something lit up in his dark eyes, you saw the joy in them - was it because you fought back? Because you were so feisty?

“What else should I call you then? Huh? You like ‘princess’ more?”, he cooed.

“Answer my question. Is it because of my father?”, you spat after rolling your eyes.

“Your- father..?”, he tilted his head just slightly to match the confusion in his voice.

Another attempt to get away from him and pull your hand away, but it was futile.

“Yeah, didn’t the deal yesterday work out in your favor? You need to drug and kidnap me then so you have a way of asserting dominance?”.

Hongjoongs stare made your blood boil and your veins freeze at the same time.

You fucked up.

Badly.

“Soo.. you’re not a waitress?”, he grinned brightly, almost madly, wickedly, as if something was possessing him now.

The look on his face was so damn intimidating, it wiped out your fierceness. Drowning it in fear and despair so quickly, you swayed and had to gasp for air.

“Is that- not why you kidnapped me?”.

“That’s such a harsh word”, Hongjoong cooed, “You’re my guest, yeah? I wanted to have you here, because you got my attention, princess. I liked you at first glance”.

The grin was gone, instead he wore an almost brutally honest smile now. The touch on your hand wasn’t warm, it was scolding hot.

“A guest?”, you echoed, “That means I can leave?”.

He chuckled, taking you with him as he walked, still not letting go from your hand. You arrived in a dining room, not as big as the other one but dripping in luxury and glamour. The chandelier over the table was shining in a dark gold, tinting the air in a warm color with the light reflecting on it.

“I possibly can’t let you go now when I have you”.

“So I’m a prisoner”, you whispered, stopping to walk, but being pulled forward nevertheless.

Hongjoong clicked his tongue and shook his hand, pulling out a chair for you to sit on it.

“No, of course not, princess. You’re important to me”, he said gently, laying a hand on your shoulder, the touch ghosting, testing.

Important. Of course you were important. You were his hostage.

But also- you didn’t want to think about it. His lingering but soft touches, the longing in his eyes. He was unmistakably attracted to you.

“Do you expect me to-?”, you couldn’t complete the sentence, tears swelling in your eyes.

You bit your tongue to let them die down before they could properly form. The faint taste of iron filled your mouth.

“Ohhh, no”, he grinned brightly, the red color on his cheeks was unmistakable as he sat down across from you.

You hated yourself for the weird turmoil in your stomach at the sight of him being flustered because of you. That man was dangerous, no matter how stupidly he was grinning now. You didn’t want to take pride in the fact that you were the reason for it. But your body was betraying you.

“I won’t lay a hand on you”, he said, “Unless you want me to”.

After lunch, Hongjoong wanted to show you the estate. He said you needed to know your new home. You wanted to throw up because of these words, but you managed to hold onto your composure.

There were a few doors he skipped and you didn’t dare to question why.

He has offered you his arm to hold onto, noticing how weak you still were, but you had refused to do so. You were glad he was respecting that decision, just as he had told you he would.

You wondered how long you could play that game.

“Captain”.

Hongjoong turned around as you had been getting into the entrance room. There was one of the other men from before, one of the two your father had spoken with about the deal - you really needed to learn their names, this was exhausting.

“Hm?”.

“We have a problem”, the other man said, eyes flickering to you and then back to him.

“One second, princess, yeah?”.

Hongjoong stepped away from you, laying a hand on his henchman’s shoulder and shoving him forward. Walking away from you, you could see him squeezing his neck tightly as if he was punishing him - a reminder how he just held back in front of you.

The other man cowered under the pain while he whispered something so you couldn’t hear.

You stood in front of the massive panoramic window, all of them open to let in some fresh air. A breeze hit you at the same time with another dumb idea.

Without even checking if they were still turning their backs to you, you ran for your life.

Your body was functioning on full auto pilot now. You stopped thinking, just forcing yourself to move as fast as your wobbly legs could take you. The adrenaline made you deaf to everything else, but your heartbeat spurring you on.

Your breathing was staggering, your lungs burning and you didn’t even know where you were running to. Straight through the garden and around the corner in hope you would find a way out.

But strong hands managed to get you, wrapping around your waist and halting you. You were yanked back harshly and you turned around.

“Mingi?”.

There was a second of hesitation when you called out his name. He definitely recognized you, just like you did remember him - although you hadn’t seen each other for years.

Your heart was clenching, steadily, but brutally pounding in your chest and demanding to be heard the second you laid eyes on him. His gaze softened, lips parting as if he wanted to say something. He stayed silent though, staring into your soul.

But the gentleness in his eyes was gone in an instant before he hauled you over his shoulder, wrapping his arms around your hip and legs to carry you back into the building.

“Wait- Mingi, no!”.

You balled your hand to a fist and punched his back as hard as you could, but he didn’t even flinch. You wailed and sobbed, why would he - out of all people - betray you like this?

You knew him, you had been friends before he, well, he just had disappeared. Both of your families had been particularly wealthy and that’s how you got to know each other.

You had gotten along well, very well. Actually, you had a big crush on him as a teenage girl. With his silly smile, high cheekbones, tall and toned form - even in a younger age.

But one day he was gone. Disappeared from the earths surface. And apparently turned out to be Hongjoongs henchmen now.

How could you not have noticed him on the day before? He must’ve been there, but was so under your radar, all of your senses just so focused on his boss.

“Mingi, please”, you cried out, “I beg you, please. Let me go”.

He was still silent, but you felt his hand tightening his grip around your thigh.

“I know it’s you, please”.

You didn’t want to think about how he got into this situation to work for Hongjoong. You couldn’t imagine it to be a nice story.

“Mingi”, you heard the captain say, a whole lot of relief swinging with his voice, “I know I can rely on you”.

Mingi set you back down, right in front of him.

Hongjoong eyed you with a burning intensity, sighing heavily as he sat down on one of the armchairs. For the first time in his presence, he wasn’t the main thing you got your attention on. Not when your lost childhood best friend stood right next to you. Needless to say that Hongjoong didn’t like that.

“Princess”.

His face was stern, the soft features looking so hard now. You couldn’t handle any of your emotions at this moment, everything was so much. It was obvious he was mad, but you weren’t sure what your most serious concern was right now.

You had been full of anxiety since meeting them, fear and pain flooding through you constantly. Mingi had been your only source of light, but only for a handful of seconds - now he looked at you like you were a stranger, if he was looking at you at all.

And plus, you bursted out your secret like it wasn’t kept for your and your father’s safety.

You were on the verge of breaking down, your soul already crushing as you moved forward towards your newly found demise.

“Hongjoong”, you sighed.

“Yes, princess?”.

Tears were streaming down your face, you weren’t able to stop even a single one of them.

“I’m sorry- I’m sorry for running away”, you croaked.

Hongjoong hummed, spreading his legs a bit wider and patting his thigh. If you did as he wanted, he would own you. You knew that, and yet you crossed the distance and climbed onto his lap. Playing along would let you have the best chances.

“I’m sorry”, you wailed, not knowing what you were apologizing for anymore.

Probably for betraying your father and yourself with it when you let him wrap his arm around your waist to pull you against his chest.

“I know, I know”, his voice was oddly soothing as you sobbed.

His other hand was rubbing circles on your thigh, holding you close and sealing your fate once and for all.

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Inhale.

Exhale.

You tried to calm yourself, but this time it wasn’t working. It was supposed to be a familiar setting. Your father greets today’s visitors, they have dinner, talk about business and leave again.

It was somehow different, the aura shifting.

You had a hard time breathing in that damn buttoned up shirt, it felt too tight, too itchy, too warm.

Inhale.

Exhale.

You always had to play pretend to be the waitress whenever your father had guests. Your mother would prefer for you to not participate at all in these events at all, but he insisted that he wanted you to witness it. He just didn’t want to present you as his daughter, thinking you would be in too much danger like this.

Inhale.

Exhale.

You held your breath when you stepped into the room, a tray with a bottle of whiskey and eight glasses on it.

The men sitting on the table already looked intimidating even from afar. Their clothes were expensive, just as their watches and jewelry, the scent of literal wealth was filling the air.

They ignored you, your fathers guests always did. Who would look at a waitress for that long anyway? You walked past them without them even acknowledging you were there.

Inhale.

Exhale.

You set the glasses down in front of each of them and poured the honey colored liquid in, you weren’t looking into their faces either. You’ve learned to not maintain eye contact with these people.

But when you reached the man sitting on the top of the table, you froze in your movements when he reached out to grab your wrist. The glass you had been setting down in this very moment hit the wooden surface with a loud sound, making everyone to turn and look your way.

This wasn’t good, you were shaking, not daring to move an inch.

Inhale.

“Look at me, baby”, he said.

That wasn’t a question, it was an order. His voice was clear, confident and it made you forget to exhale again. The tone he had chosen left no room for discussion, so you bit hard onto your tongue before looking up and into his eyes.

Oh, he was pretty.

His features were so soft, though, too soft for someone to be involved in shady businesses. And considering the position of his seat and the way everyone around him was spiraling to act to his liking, he was the boss of the others.

“What’s your name?”.

You really didn’t want to talk to him or reveal your name. Being so close to him was already enough to make your stomach turn because of the nervousness. Your mother had been right, you shouldn’t be involved into anything of this and yet his grip on you was so strong, you couldn’t sneak out of it.

So you just came up with something, saying the first thing that came to your mind to make it as natural as possible.

The way the made up name rolled over his tongue made you very grateful you had decided to not give him your real one - you would’ve been swooned at the spot.

“I’m Hongjoong”, he cooed.

Okay, you swooned either way. You were trembling, heavily shivering where you stood and even softly gasping when he leaned in closer. His eyes, his stare made you fold in under a second.

“You better remember it, yeah?”.

You just nodded, hoping he would let go of you now. The skin where he had touched you was almost burning as soon as his hand was gone, as if you just had contact with the devil. He grinned like one, baring his perfect teeth to you in a mischievous expression.

You scrambled away, serving the remaining men in a quicker manner than before.

Exhale. Exhale.

You didn’t care how unprofessional it was, you hurried to get out of the dining room, hiding behind the massive door. You hugged the metal tray tightly, pressing the cold material against you to cool down.

Needless to say it didn’t help at all. You were breathing heavily, the rhythm long forgotten as you had trouble finding it again.

You felt your heartbeat in your throat, thumping relentless against the metal in your arms.

“What are you doing?”.

You hadn’t noticed your father had been following you, you immediately felt tears pricking at your eyes.

“I’m sorry, I-“, you stammered, not a slither of your voice coming out.

“You should be sorry!”, he hissed, shaking his head, “You better make sure he’s in a good mood for the rest of the night, got it?”.

You winced, your father usually wasn’t talking to you like this. But he was really on edge, jaw clenched since these people had entered the building, sweating immensely every time one of them was speaking - so you bit down your emotions.

“Yeah, I was just- caught by surprise. I’ll behave, I promise”.

You had no other choice either way. You could actually be really lucky Hongjoong just flirted with you- wait- he flirted with you? The thought of it made your knees weak in an instant.

“You think you can go out there again?”, his voice was a bit softer this time.

You nodded, although you felt wobbly. Conversation with people in this business is risky. Flirting was- just really dumb. But it was also dumb to not talk to him when he asked you something, right?

Your body was on autopilot when you followed your father back into the dining room, deciding to stay behind and stand at the wall beside the table. Maybe, if your wish would be granted, you could just vanish into it.

But you felt a strong gaze on your body, relentless and determined to dig into your soul. It made your head fall slightly forward to look at the floor.

“So- I hope dinner was great, gentlemen”, your father spoke up, “We should talk about business now, yeah?”.

Hongjoong chuckled and even if it wasn’t intended to, it sounded menacing.

“You’re right, that’s why we’re here for”, his voice was so casual, effortless, like he was buying a few flowers, “Yunho, Jongho”.

He snapped his fingers, that’s when you looked up again.

The two men he called both had black hair, like all of them had except for one blond man and himself. One of these two was ridiculously tall.

“Don’t you want to participate?”, your father asked.

You knew him long enough to know that little wobble in his voice meant he was nervous.

“Oh no, I never engage in the deals”, Hongjoong leaned back, throwing a leg over the other, “Trust me, they are acting in my will”.

He must have a huge trust into his people when he was so ready to willingly give up the responsibility of his income to his henchmen. You’ve never seen anything like that before.

But your father nodded silently, guiding them out of the dining room. You didn’t know what your father was making his money with exactly - he would tell you when time is right, he always said. And you had no right to speak either way, so you were glad he would postpone that into unforeseeable future.

Hongjoong pried his eyes off of you, you finally had the chance to take a breath. He was looking at the blond man on his right side instead, moving his chin to the side to signal him to lift up the metal case from the floor.

When he turned back to you, he caught you staring. You almost lost balance, almost let the metal tray fall to your feet. It was creepy how every time he looked at you, your body and brain short circuited so intensely you could either maintain the eye contact or look at the floor like an idiot. As if everyone else was just not there anymore.

The brunette beckoned you to come closer with two fingers and you forgot how to walk.

You were stumbling forward as if he had casted a magic spell on you before halting right in front of him.

“I’d like to have some more”, he moved his glass around in front of his face, letting it dangle from his fingers.

Better to keep silent this time, just nodding as you began to move again. But oh, your eyes flickered and you wished they hadn’t. You caught a quick glimpse of the open case in front of the blond man, a laptop was seated inside. At that very moment, you knew why Hongjoong had sent you away.

Not because he wanted another drink, but because they would be alone in the dining room without you lurking around for a second. On the screen, just for the part of the second you had looked at it, you could see Yunho, Jongho and your father.

You couldn’t really see what they did because you had walked past so quickly to not seem suspicious. They probably had thought that an ordinary waitress couldn’t tell what they were planning there, they would have never presented it like that otherwise.

But you were no waitress, and you knew that they’ve hacked into your fathers security system. You knew that angle, that was one of your surveillance cameras.

You were sweating heavily, the anxiety and boiling heat of your blood clawing at the back of your throat in combination with a sudden rush of nausea. As soon as they noticed you were his daughter, you were probably dead.

So of course, your heart was racing in fear. But you had promised your father to behave and play the waitress, you couldn’t fuck this up, he would be dead too if they sensed any kind of threat.

You tightened your jaw, biting down hard on your tongue until you tasted blood to make you stop trembling. You walked another bottle back to them, Hongjoong was already awaiting you with a grin. He watched you filling his glass again.

“What do they pay you here, sweetheart? Gotta make sure they treat you right”, he mused, he was distracting you.

You told yourself that this was his only intention. That he just wanted to have your whole attention on him instead of the man and his doings beside him.

“Do not worry, sir. It’s enough”, you answered with a smile.

You definitely noticed his lips parting when you addressed him so formally, he sucked the air in between his teeth before regaining his composure. Was he.. flustered? By you? You felt goosebumps form on your whole body.

The head of a mafia family. Flustered. By you.

“I bet I could pay you more”, he answered then.

A cough came from the man sitting a bit further away. You dared to let his face slip into the corner of your eye.

Why were all of them so stupidly beautiful? He looked like a damn elf. Probably the most androgynous face you’ve ever seen with wearing a strong and powerful aura at the same time. He was probably very high ranked, he was just oozing with the right amount of power.

“Ahh, come on. I’m joking”, Hongjoong chuckled before eyeing you again, “But if you’re considering a.. change- just tell me, yeah?”.

Your heart was fluttering while your stomach turned. You had to flex the muscles in your lower belly to stop it. You didn’t want to feel flustered by him, not in any way. You didn’t want to be involved in this more than needed. No matter how incredibly handsome he was.

“You’re flattering me, sir. Thank you”.

He moved in his seat, shifting to the other side of it. It was easy to guess he liked that you called him ‘sir’ and the fact you didn’t turn him down but politely answered him. He probably liked the feeling of superiority.

You got out of your trance, getting back to staring into the nothingness while moving in the second the man with the suitcase in front of him closed it again.

Only seconds later, you heard your fathers voice coming closer. Had he just been watching them to make sure everything was to their liking?

“Pretty sure we have a deal, right?”, Hongjoong sounded confident with his question as soon as the three of them came in.

“Of course, sir. I’m very honored to make business with you”, your father answered, bowing down in front of him.

He didn’t seem to enjoy the “sir” as much as when you had said it. That fact let your heart miss a beat.

Hongjoong stood up, the others mimicked him. It was all trained, perfectioned to the end from years working and living with each other. The head of the organization wasn’t as tall as your father, but he radiated so much more authority with these men behind him and the way he moved.

“My pleasure”, he said, but he didn’t bow, “Thank you for having us. Don’t be afraid to contact Yunho when you need something”.

But then, instead of leaving, he really came towards you. Your first natural reaction was to shy away a step, but it also came to you that this was incredibly inappropriate. So you just looked down, bowing to him out of respect.

“Look at me sweetheart”, he ordered, a hand on your chin literally forcing you to do so.

You were sure he would hear your heartbeat when he was so close. He stared you down, a slight smirk on his lips.

“It was nice meeting you, I look forward to seeing you again”.

You were the only one left in this part of the building. Your family didn’t live here, although it may seem like it. But your father refused to invite the mafia into his house, fair to be honest.

You hummed, polishing the wooden table. Just one of the tasks you had to do after days like these. But it was different, the whole day just had been weird. When Hongjoong and his henchmen left, you finally were able to breathe although the anxiety and stress took some hours to completely die down.

But something was off, a weird feeling in your gut told you to finish and get out of here as soon as possible.

Looking up, there was someone standing in the doorframe. You didn’t recognize that man, neither did you know how he got in.

You were too stunned to speak, his broad form making your breath hitch. You were alone and there was no way you could get past him, not even with your knowledge of self-defence. He came closer without saying a word, hands carelessly in the pockets of his pants.

Instinctively, you moved away from him, until you were stopped by another person behind you.

“Aww, San-hyung you’re intimidating her”, you heard him saying.

You stumbled, adrenaline flushing your system when you understood you were cornered by both. Your heart threatened to break through your ribcage, considering the rate of your pulse.

You tried to get some distance between you and each of them, but they slowly came closer now. You hadn’t time to think about how they could get so close to you without being heard in the first place.

But you still had enough common sense in you to connect the dots before the fear got to you and enveloped you completely.

Before you could run, the second man got a hold of you, pulling you back and against his chest while he pressed a cloth to your nose and mouth.

“The captain said to not scare her too much”.

You held your breath, refusing to inhale the chloroform. You knew that it would take you some time until the narcotic effect would wrestle you to sleep.

“And that’s not scary?”, the first man asked, mentioning towards him.

You tensed your muscles when you struggled to hold the air in your lungs, trying to trash out of his grip. But this fight was futile, you gasped for air sooner than intended and inevitably inhaled the sweet smelling anesthesia.

“Not as scary as what I wanted to do“.

Nausea hit you, with that tight grip around you and with the strength he was able to clasp his hand on your face, you really feared you could choke on your vomit.

Every weak movement made your head throb, but you couldn’t stop writhing, not wanting to give up yet.

“She’s feisty”, the buffed man commented, his voice coming to you as if he was talking through a cloud.

“Yeah, I can see why the captain likes her so much”.

So you had been right, they belonged to Hongjoong and they came back to get you. You had barely looked into their faces, their boss had been too captivating.

They continued talking, but you couldn’t even understand anymore what they were saying. Your head hurt and felt fuzzy while you kept salivating because of the intense urge to vomit.

You only noticed you were crying when the tears were already streaming over your face. Your vision blurred and you couldn’t even hear your muffled cries, but you were sure you screamed from the top of your lungs.

@isa-mi-aldini @7hiyaawinx7 @ylstacy @kpopishgirlie @pineapple-burgah @bee-gremlin @pineappleonmyburger @kloversung @lesserafimaddictie @hyunjinswife4ever @jessic1800-blog @fxreverm1ng1s @emmalabo @lizal1cious @non3ofurbusiness @yeosangtime

You could not sleep that night. Naturally, you could not sleep for several nights. Drained at the office in the mornings, you were getting into a bad mood, and even your aloe was now dead. Nobody to console you. Nobody to share with. Well, of course, you had this genius younger brother, but he seemed very busy all the time. You could try him, actually.

What would you say? Diagnose me? You knew without other people's advice you were an idiot.

You still walked past the book booth in the evenings on your way back from work, and theatrically did not look at it. For a whole week, you did nothing and took your time, pretending that nothing has happened. Your brain has been backlogging everything you noticed around: the trees collecting emissions from the cars so that humans could breathe in this heat. People's vibrant smiles in the street. The rainbow in a fountain. The smell of the sea breeze. Lilac plastic pen on your desk. A hair claw in the shape of a crab. Stream of bubbles shooting up inside a water cooler. The slight shiver of the leds inside a traffic light, just before they went out and changed colour. The wind on your skin. All of this - somewhere else, too? Where people do not walk on their heads, or have seven limbs, or eat sand instead of meat? Parallel dimensions have been dreamed of for so long, striven for, with such intensity, that the actual probability of them has become completely absurd. Just a fairytale. Just something to distract yourself with, to daydream, to get away from this world for a minute.

You'd rather ask yourself why Yoongi chose the parallel worlds as the core plot, from the psychological point of view. Does he want to escape, as well? Does he paint his ideal self to be a genius scientist in a dimension out of reach, which makes it safe to communicate?

You hated him all the more because of how sincere he always read. It was a tone of voice, a type of handwriting you wanted to believe. His smiley faces radiated life.

After a full week of mute consideration and silent evenings under the kitchen lamp, you decided that your intelligence alone is not enough to solve this. You needed a second opinion.

On Friday, you called up your brother, glad that humans exist in these familial cells, because you could not possibly envision yourself dumping this information on somebody who is not related to you by blood.

He picked up after a while, his voice drizzling with energy that you suspected he usually stole from the people he drank blood of, or something like that.

"Jungkook, you're smart, right?" you asked.

"I'm a dumbass is what I am", he replied immediately, a bit too happy, but with a strain of neurosis in his tone.

"What happened?"

"I got into an accident. This BMW was rolling on the left, and I didn't hit the brakes, thinking I'll squeeze, and..."

You got up to your feet.

"Why didn't you call me? Are you in a hospital?"

"No-o-o, I didn't even fall. It was a soft bump. But I have a huge fine on my ass now. And my bike is scratched".

"Was the other person angry?" your heart started slowing down.

"Yeah, pretty angry. But whatever".

He was breathing right into the phone, heavily, like he was unbuckling or something like that. You could picture him pretty well: his eyes went huge like two saucers simply when he was focused, like he wanted to see better. Lower lip protruded. He was always going to be a baby to you. A rich, adult, baby.

A very smart baby.

Jungkook never pushed you in anything; speaking to him was easy, and not speaking was even easier. He would just pant into the phone without feeling bored. You walked across the room and continued,

"I wanted to show you something. In person".

He went quiet.

Then,

"Are you preggo?!" he almost wheezed with happiness.

"No, much stupider. Actually", you exhaled, "however, it is connected - loosely - with dating?"

"Oh em gee. I'm busy tomorrow. Can you come by on Monday after work? Or should I come?"

You scratched your nose.

"No, I'll be tired. You come".

"Okay", he said simply. He knew what time you get off work.

"Jungkook?"

"Yep?"

"Do quantum computers exist yet?"

"Yeah, but not in Korea", something metallic clunked in his phone, "it's too loud here".

He giggled.

Since you had nothing to do the next day, you slept in and then went to the booth. With no intention of exchange; maybe out of habit. Maybe to see what changed.

You found a new book under the encyclopedia: it was a large yellow glistening volume under the title New Comprehensive History of Joseon: the Country That Fought Dragons.

There was nothing under the cover - no message or drawings, like Yoongi was keeping quiet, awaiting for your response. This heavy book a gentle nudge, another piece of evidence. Where does he get these? Underground black market of prank literature (ungoogleable)? How clever, how cunning that he had put that idea across: now you can't own it, can't accuse him of it.

And he is also suggesting that his dimension has dragons?

You started reading it in the coffeeshop until you got completely overwhelmed, the little barrier in your brain refusing to let you come to terms with it. It's like you couldn't relax.

The dragons were a metaphor for the invading countries, like Japan, Russia, America, China, the Mongol Empire. Pretty much familiar. Only thing - their Joseon never seemed to have been divided in two. The country has always been whole. Maybe because it has been more successful in defending its borders. Also because seemingly, as Yoongi mentioned briefly, their world did not war with such ferocity. Their wars were... tame. One failed invasion, and the Mongols retreived forever. Russia and the USA were left satisfied with a trading offer. Seems almost childish, too good to be true. And they called it dragon forces.

You drank your coffee in bitter silence, the book open on the table, watching people around like a hawk.

On Monday, Jungkook came by at around 8 PM and brought a lot of food which you consumed quite quickly, knowing that perhaps once he understands what you're saying, you both won't feel like eating.

His reaction made you feel inadequate, rough and cold.

The boy you always knew was optimistic and imaginative, stayed in his lane. No, he buried himself in it.

His both hands grabbed his own hair. Gravitons opened on his lap, balanced dangerously. He beamed at you with his huge eyes, mouth open.

"Do you understand what it means?!"

"I don't believe it", you admitted.

"No, but", he licked his lips frantically. Jungkook's always been gifted in sciences. At school, he excelled at physics and loved algebra. It's not that out of the two of you he was the smart one... well, but. Yeah, he was.

And he never lost the wonder. Love for books and popular science intermingled between you two, and the age difference wasn't too large, so, as adults, you couldn't really remember who got the other one into the sci-fi first. Just, all of a sudden, at the ages of 13 and 10, you were glued to the screen of the TV, watching Independence Day.

"But, but", he leafed through the book, as if expecting it to bloom like a flower, "this all makes perfect sense. This has historical accuracy..."

You pointed at the New Comprehensive History of Joseon lying on the kitchen table.

"Within the reasonable margin", he added, drilling you with his eyes. "And the letters? You said they were consistent, and believable, right? And his last letter - it makes perfect sense, y/n!"

"Jungkook, what fucking branes?" you exclaimed, "what parallel dimensions? That's completely insane. Come back to reality!"

He wasn't deterred by your tone. Like the true younger brother, he only cocked his eyebrow.

"You hate reality. Why are you clinging to it so hard?"

"I don't want to get more hurt than I already am".

A sour clot of saliva got stuck in your throat, from all the snacks. Jungkook's face became softer.

"It sounds too good. But you don't have to believe things when you have proof".

You shrugged. Fought off a blackout type of a yawn.

"We don't have any? These books? They look alright. But how hard is it to create an elaborate hoax?"

"What for?" he snickered. You saw it: Jungkook immediately fell in love. "Somebody goes out of their way and studies physics, writes, prints a bunch of fake books that are comprised with painful accuracy and detail, then arranges this fake exchange and grooms you for weeks, just to prank? And why you?" he scrunched his face, and you felt insulted.

"Not necessarily me", you pressed, "just the first person who found the book".

"That still sounds like a lot of empty work".

"Maybe it's some teenage prodigy who is extremely bored", you shrugged again, "you know how many fake conspiracy theories people have come up with just because they were bored. Ghosts, UFOs, time travelling".

Jungkook made a face at you but his voice remained stable.

"But all those crumble as soon as you look into them. They don't hold after one google search. This?" he held up Gravitons like it was a torch. "This is our - albeit optimistic - reality. Quantum computers? Reality. Collider? Reality. We just need more power, more money, less war conflicts - everything that they seem to have. Look at the language of this book, too. It's true pop sci. Gravitons are being theorized right now. The process described in this book follows all the scientific methods. Everything that is described here in terms of laws and discoveries, is correct".

He stood up, so unwilling to let go of that fucking book, that he shoved it under his arm. From under the rolled up sleeves, his tattoos bloomed, bright-green, purple and blue. And suddenly you felt sharp envy towards your brother. He was cool AND smart at the same time. He had it all together; he was rich, intelligent, and still had the capability to be an idiot. To bump into someone's car on his bike for being reckless. To get tattooed all over his body. To live in a black-out corny house because he loved the movies about Batman. This envy was mixed with deep love. You didn't want to punish, or hurt him for it. You just wanted to be more like him.

Meanwhile he was pointing at the historical volume on the table.

"Everything aligns. Imagine a better version of humanity. Maybe they are genetically less aggressive. Maybe, at the stage when diverging human species branches finally started pushing each other out, the less bloodthirsty succeeded somehow. And now it's not only that they live in the near future - it's that they had a major headstart on us, because they didn't lose five hundred years of progress to the Dark Age in Europe and isolationism here".

His finger was pointing at the open book almost accusingly. It finally brought a smile on your face.

"That's it. You're absurdly optimistic".

"And you're too sceptical".

You thought a little.

He came up closer, and you heard that he is panting like he's been running. Jungkookie was really, really hooked on it. His eyes shining. The boy who gasped and stopped breathing when he watched Alien for the first time. Not because xenomorphs were scary. But because an android resembled a human.

"That's how we've always done it though, right? You say yes, I say no. You say no, I say yes".

You couldn't argue with that. Scientific method. Try to prove the other one wrong in order to discover the objective truth.

"Why is now different? I say yes".

His smile slowly warmed up the kitchen. Jungkook had these large front teeth that kids used to tease him for at school. He had a bad year when he didn't smile at all. Kids were calling him all kinds of names, and he became so insecure. You were very proud of yourself when you beat up a boy three years younger than you. Yeah, you were proud, and didn't regret it. He was larger than you, and the only advantage you had before you smashed his nose was his surprise: he couldn't believe the factors colliding in you would allow you to attack. You were older - therefore were supposed to be more dignified. You were a girl - weak arms. Gender barrier. Designated timidity. And you were smaller. He thought his size would instill fear. He thought his size and his bullying instilled fear in Jungkook, but it didn't. He was just shy. Fear and insecurity are two different things. He was impressionable, trusting. Jungkook never had to be taught not to hurt little living things. He never stepped on ants. Never had the urge to pick a pretty flower. He just naturally had this gentleness about him.

You didn't.

Watching his sister beat up a boy and draw his blood, broke something in him - not too much. He became the Jungkook he was now: tall, muscular, savvy, a little braver. He witnessed that losing a little blood didn't kill a person.

Anyway, his large front teeth always made his smile completely irresistible. It always looked a little cheeky, in a kind way.

"Alright, but", you nodded, almost giving up. "Imagine that it's a hoax. Let's imagine that it's all a total lie. Then what?"

He pressed his mouth into a thin line.

"That would suck. But there's a chance it isn't, and you have to take it".

"Isn't the point of the scientific method to distrust and try to prove the opposite of what you hope for?"

Jungkook's face took an expression you didn't like.

"What do you hope for? Wanna go on a date with that interdimensional physicist?"

You leaned back on the chair.

"Although I heard that they're all boring nerds, you know?"

You rubbed your face as Jungkook collapsed on a chair next to you.

He drank some tea, toying with Gravitons in his hands.

The next Saturday, he accompanied you to the book booth, and you didn't even know why you were sweating so much, squeezing in together. Jungkook kept asking questions: what are these books? Was this book brought by Yoongi? And this one? Why is there no dust here? He pointed at the kids' encyclopedia serving as the shield for the secret swap, and asked:

"Why is the cover burnt?"

You always chucked it on the sun. The cover of this book was smooth, and the noon sunrays glided over it for a while every day in summer.

"Maybe it faded in the light".

He lifted the book, allowing you to pick up the new addition from Yoongi that already looked pretty normal.

"No, it looks slightly burned, like someone stubbed a cigarette on it".

You shrugged, consumed by the cover of the new volume.

"It's biology".

Jungkook all but pushed you away: he grabbed it from your hands, but you didn't let go. For a minute, you two wrestled, both clutching Cells, Eye Colour and Smiles: Why a Human Will Never Fly bound in pleasant green.

"Let me see! Let me see!"

"My letter", you pushed out through gritted teeth. Finally, you solved it, almost tearing the cover off: you managed to catch a small sheet of paper flying from under the cover, and let go. Jungkook was forced to lean against a tower of books with a dull thump. Some of them started cascading down. One book fell on your foot, but you didn't feel pain.

"y/n,

I hope you're doing well. I've brought you another book to paint a better picture of my world. Wouldn't it be funny at this point to find out everybody on your planet has a tail? That would be cute. Can't wait to hear from you again. :)

Yoongi from the left brane".

"Read it to me", Jungkook demanded, while his eyes bore into the back cover of the new book. You did.

"Damn", he finally lowered his arm and looked you straight in the eye, breathing through his mouth.

"The guy is crazy about you. Fantasizing and stuff. Did you send him your picture or something?"

You felt the most out-of-place blush crawling up your neck.

"I did not".

"You should".

He paused, then shoved the book into his jacket. It was a pocket format in a soft cover.

"Maybe he'll find a way to expand this wormhole to the human size once he sees you have cute eyes".

You snarled at him, then pointed around, just to change the topic. The letter was squeezed in your hand hard, like it was someone's neck.

"At first, I brought the books here and put them on top of this low tower. Then we changed the place, and now it's here to the right. So, how big exactly is this portal? Is it moving? Does it open only at the weekend? Why do I never lose an arm when I bring books? Isn't this stupid?"

Jungkook was listening to you with his throat tense, shoving down a hiccup. He's had three coffees in the morning which you warned him would result in excessive burping.

You haven't hung out with your brother so much in a year. Since his business took off, he was more busy, and this all felt so right.

Instead of answering your question, he looked at the encyclopedia again.

"He wrote that he, like, jerked off to your fingerprints, right?"

You went into a fit of rage. You grabbed a nearby book without looking at it and started hitting him with it. The booth almost moved.

"Stop! Stop! I mean-" he grabbed your arm and pulled it up, effectively stranding you like a monkey, "I mean they were on that encyclopedia for kids, right?"

"You are so vulgar!"

"You are so in love, idiot. You haven't even seen him", he opened the door. His face was smiling. His eyes were still focused on the depths of the booth, where the encyclopedia hid the thick volume of Guns, Germs, and Steel: The Fates of Human Societies with a dozen photographs of Seoul from different districts. You did not like this gaze, and the fact that he started talking really quickly, and really funny, as if to distract you.

"What?" you said out loud.

"What?"

You were stopped dead at the book itself, without even opening it, but, as you turned it around to inspect better, it opened and let paper fall out. It was way more than three pages: the front cover opened like the letter has been too thick to hold. You picked it up: it was separate pages, disjointed, but with numbers in the corners. A total of six.

That was a lot to take in just now, so you simply gathered it all in your arms and left.

The short walk to the coffeeshop, inside your head, sounded like a room in a psychiatric asylum. The separate words kept looping in your brain.

Gravitons!

Aliens!

Quantum physics!

Ray-11 XAB Seoul department!

You ordered the wrong coffee simply because you got so distracted. You were so laser focused on reading whatever the FUCK this was, that you sat down blindly and felt nothing. All your senses streamlined into the words.

Gravitons: How We Discovered Aliens.

The description below the author's name said:

A hundred years of the modern physics: the first quantum supercomputer and the war for the Dyson sphere. With the foreword by Michelle Kaku.

The disappointment washed over you like the entirety of the Pacific Ocean. He just brought you a sci-fi.

Your hand grabbed the hair on the side of your head.

You organized pages by the number and saw the electric handrwiting filling them up to the maximum. Incredibly, the lines were perfect, measured just right, and the whole text was scaled down because he wanted to fit in as much text as he could.

They looked like historical scriptures. Even without knowing the content, they seemed profound, meaningful, these sheets of paper.

It began with your name.

"Dear Y/N.

I hope you return to the booth one more time. The worst thing I just did was skipping a week but I was so busy at work; and if I hadn't gone, then it would've taken even more time to get back to you, so it's a kind of a paradox.

In light of everything it's still important to me that you don't think I'm some kind of asshole. At first, I actually thought that about you: I mean, the response could've been less dry, but hey, it's the strict y/n, right? :) Then when you didn't show up, I was telling myself you could've just said no and I would've taken it fine. Maybe I should have stated more clearly that the part that I appreciate the most is just us speaking.

That all doesn't matter though, you know? I did show up, and you probably did, as well. You stood right at the booth just like me, didn't you? On the 23rd of July, in Seoul. I didn't even know how to navigate whatever was going on in my head, so I didn't argue with you that it's not actually July, I mean how off can a person be? It's okay if you're maybe too stressed at work and you mix up the dates. You think Wednesday is Thursday, or you lose a couple of days, but saying let's meet on 23rd of July, when it's 10th of January? I went on the 23rd anyway, just in case.

But by then I've already had my suspicions and unfortunately (or fortunately? That's the part I don't get) they now have been proven correct. I hope I don't lose you here, just read on.

I got really, really surprised when it turned out Akutagawa Ryūnosuke was schizophrenic. I've read his books before, I really liked Kappa at school when we read it in Classics class. I always thought I knew pretty much everything about one of my favourite authors. Never in my life have I heard anywhere that he had any psychological issues. I even searched it up again. In fact, I had a nice day at the Akutagawa museum in the Samcheong-dong. And finally, I remember clearly to this day that this one girl from my class cried when she learned how Akutagawa died during a fishing trip in the mountains. How dramatic it seemed to her. I remembered it because, due to my youth, I was judgemental back then and found her overreaction corny. A dude died having fallen off a boat, a genius dude, mind you, but still?

And your book said that he had killed himself on the 24th of July, 1927. I really admired your love for ultra-retro books and authors like him, and now I've realised it's not as retro to you.

Then also the Love in the Time of Cholera. I thought you had some kind of alternative edition because, from the first word, the story was completely different from what I remembered. I gaslit myself into thinking you're pranking me, reread it a couple of times. The original Love in the Time of Cholera is about two runaways in Havana who tragically infect each other while trying to escape the pandemic, and die at sea.

When we just started exchanging books with you, the winter also only began, and you know how winters are here - or do you? - it's just crazy downpour. Before I figured it out, I'm ashamed to admit, I almost ruined two books while carrying them to the car. It rains so much that the booth almost got flooded and I was worried for all the paper inside. That's why I asked you how you deal with the weather, and you just said "heat" and I thought, maybe you're a little crazy, or pulling my leg.

Are you seeing the picture I am building here?

Mysterious River the movie did not have Kevin Bacon. He just did not star in it at all.

Perhaps it's not enough. Maybe the mismatching dates or completely incorrect historical events (the fuck is 9/11? Can you tell me? Sounded horrible?!) were just a series of flukes but it's quite hard to imagine that two people from the same city own such different editions of books. Maybe Yoongi just doesn't know about some underground black market for books where they print whatever, intentionally swap years and rewrite plots, simply to mislead people? Like a bunch of tricksters?

My bias very quickly made me anxious. You know how, if you work in biology, you focus on biology. And if you're a sociologist, you trace the behavioural patterns in people's responses.

Thinking that I was incredibly unlucky to not even once meet you, when I work right above the book booth, and pass it a hundred times a day, was too depressing. I knew you come on Saturdays, so sometimes I even hung around, like a complete creep, in hopes of catching a glance of you. Never happened. Maybe I couldn't see you through all the rain.

I know it was a big jump, but my hunches rarely deceive me. I am trying to be a dignified human, but I will not boast when I say my intuition is excellent, and, coupled with my intellect, it always points me into the right direction. I work in physics, and, as I said, I tend to focus on it.

I wanted to be completely sure and pretended for myself it was just a game of map-her-world. I wanted to know what kind of Universe you lived in. Your questions about technicolour and quarks sounded a bit silly even for a general public member. Your old-fashioned reading habits, and your obsession with outdated epics were adorable. I asked you to bring me some physics books because I wanted to prove to myself that you're just a strange (adorable) person who has specific tastes. But it turned out that you know little about branes because branes are a very vague concept in your world and time.

All the books you've found for me, especially the string theory textbook, were published in the far past and are completely incorrect; the science has advanced immensely since then. So, without taunting you more, I will just tell you how it is. I hope it doesn't sound like a lecture or a fairytale; I'm a scientist, I work at the Seoul department of the AESPC: Antimatter Earth Scale Planck Collider. My department is called Ray-11 XAB, it means I work with plasma (plasma accelerators to help speed up particles), and XAB stands for the technical thing: Xionic Alternating Branch. Xion is a type of plasma. We can't just use raw plasma and shove it into the collider (excuse me if I sound too simplistic, I don't think you're stupid, but your world has the very old accelerator), so we tweak it a little first and then use it to accelerate the particles.

What we have discovered with the proof of existence of gravitons, is that the cosmos, indeed, complies with the M-theory. The book you've given me pretty early on, Knocking on Heaven's Door, has become a classic because it's predicted the built of our world pretty well. It mentions, as well, the string theory concept, although incorrectly, about the multiverse.

Please don't let this overpopularized word deter you, I am not joking.

Our Multiverse is, according to the Theory of Everything, consists of separate branes that roughly look like a bunch of helium baloons floating together in space. That's a dumbass explanation but you can picture it.

I live on the surface of the, let's say, left one, and you live on the surface of the right one. We do not exist inside the balloons - those inflate eternally. Your scientists are pretty much like ours in saying that the "Universe" keeps expanding; they just exist in the past so they don't yet know that the correct word for the place we all live in, is Multiverse. Also I noticed that your reality is literally torn apart by wars which keep stunting the development of technology and knowledge.

Very recently, about ten years ago actually, and fifty years since we've discovered gravitons, the Big Poking started. It's a cute name. As soon as we discovered we can practically "ride" gravitons, the idea that they could be the key to accessing other worlds, has been dominating our reality. We had had suspicions that the parallel worlds aren't as small as your people (like Lis Randall) used to theorize. The reason? The gravitons we managed to catch in our nets bore the residual of the matter that simply does not exist in our world. The gravity originates somewhere: probably at the very far away Brane Number One, or, as some call it, the Original Brane. The gravity in that dimension must be a full 100% stronger, and thus, the life there is either impossible or completely limited. But the weaker the gravity, the more livable the brane. You and me happen to be the neighbours in a very good district of the Multiverse where gravitons have no mass, have a 2 spin, and bear the traces of their long, long journey across the worlds.

About Big Poking; I got carried away a little. It's a project very much like SETI in the twentieth century, but multidimensional. Picture gravitons as tiny puppies who keep running if not held down. We put micro bombs on the collars of the puppies. Since the puppies are quanta, they are not hurt. Those chosen puppies we managed to capture and arm up, activate bombs as soon as they leave a brane. The bomb, in fact, is a wormhole maker. It's very small but relatively stable. These graviton puppies have been released in dozens across the planet, with the intention to monitor the "holes" left by the bombs. So far with no success. The place where you and me exchanged books, used to be also considered a failed bomb activation. We did not realize the hole was created.

I personally do not work on that project, but I am aware of it.

You are maybe the most important human in the Multiverse as of now. At least for me.

You are the first and only successful contact.

Please tell me this is true.

As I was waiting for you at the book booth, the realization hit me, and I didn't know how to feel. I will admit, my suggestion to meet was the last test to see that we really do exist on different branes. What year is it for you? How is the weather? Who is the President? How tall are you? In the last hundred years, the humanity has grown approximately 10 centimeters. Also, in old books that you brought, people kept dying at around eighty-ninety, like it was in the twenty-first century, but do you know you (your people) can upgrade the overall endurance and life quality, by hacking the Sirtuin Family and removing cancer, to up to one hundred and forty years? Some people nowadays live to one hundred fifty.

Even though it's about my dimension, since we exist so close, I would theorize that most things are the same in our worlds. For example, you and me communicate in the same Korean language with absolutely no problems, and the literature describes the worlds pretty much the same. Some dates vary; on my planet, there were way fewer wars, and we seem to have different timelines. Also, Akutagawa did not kill himself. It's amazing, really, how insignificant diversions are.

Do you understand now what it meant to me to see your fingerprints on that encyclopedia?

The book booth seems to exist in complete harmony with the wormhole left by the graviton bomb. I would ask you, if you're up to it, to do the inventarization of every single book that is inside, so we could compare. Because I don't believe the entrance is big enough to fit the whole booth. If that were so, every time you or me went there, we would end up in each other's dimensions. Instead, only your fingerprints made it into my world. Did you see my thumb, too? That is an impression of an alien.

I know you're probably thinking this is all a bunch of bullshit. I hope you take enough time to digest it all, and I swear it's all true. Read it again. Think about it. Read the book. You don't have to come back next week, but please come back eventually. Do you even realize what it means for all of us? For the humanity across the Multiverse? We have never made alien contact before. As I said, you must be the most unique individual right now.

However, before forwarding my findings to the Big Poking, I will need more proof. The Akutagawa suicide and your hot weather, and your fingerprints won't cut it for a serious research. I have kept the books though, but these copies exist in my world too (in some libraries). While I am working out the nature of the hole - because it seems large enough yet with a certain filter - please bring me some books on general history. Also, some pictures of Seoul that are time stamped. You don't have to do it all right now. First of all, I want you to do just one thing.

Forgive me for missing our date.

Min Yoongi, 6 Feb 2112, Seoul, left brane, 7:10 AM".

You left out a laugh that attracted a couple of heads at the nearby table. You looked at those people: a couple, awkwardly turning away and back to their conversation.

The pages spread out on the table in front of you, and your arm lay on the black book by one Kim Namjoon.

You laughed because it had to be a joke. Pushing the papers away, you took the book in your hand and poked at the cover to see if it peels off. The coffee stood untouched to the right, and the full cup went cold. Suddenly you wanted to drink very much, so you gulped it, cold, milky mass in your throat, too sweet, without breathing.

This is just cruel, you said to yourself, just cruel. Just say "I don't wanna meet up with you, I changed my mind", why invent all this?

Your neck became scratchy, and you attacked it with your nails in a sharp motion, feeling unhinged. You opened Gravitons on the first page and looked at the information about the book. Your lips curled in irony. The year of publishing: 2090. So, it was a relatively old book for Yoongi, according to his lore.

Humiliating bullshit.

You sat back and closed your eyes, letting your brain rationalize things. Occam's razor. There must be a better explanation for all this before the existence of the alternative dimensions where a physicist used to play some sport named digiball at school. Guess it stands for digital ball then? Is it like a Tron universe then? That's what he wants you to believe?

You opened your eyes and looked around: the beige and pink walls of the coffeeshop that looked so regular and familiar to you. The people around, chatting at the low volume, feet crossed under the tables. Your naivety might be the embarrassing end of you some day. Who would believe this absolutely ridiculous tale? You were holding yourself back like a horse that was trying to run into the sea. Of course we all want to believe in the great cosmic future of humanity. In the world without wars, where people are focused on the space exploration and the well-being of each other. But it's just, optimistic crap.

Not to mention the implication that naturally occurs from his letter. Dude works at the Antimatter Planck Scale collider? To be absolutely sure of how inconceivable it sounds, you googled gravitons and reread everything the humanity knew about them.

Gravitational waves were discovered in 2015 in the most important scientific event of the century. That's it. It was proved that gravity comes in waves. Gravitons are theorized particles that comprise those waves, like photons comprise light. Or whatever. Rays. Gravitons are nearly impossible to detect, the article said, because they lack mass, they do not interact with other particles, and again, they are THEORIZED. In order to catch even one single graviton, like we catch positrons, humanity would need to build a collider that is... a quadrillion times more powerful than the existing Large Hadron Collider.

Yeah, no.

You pulled the Gravitons to yourself again and opened it randomly in the middle. The text hit you like a train, jumbling your thoughts. You did not understand a single word. Some scales, some engines, particles and antiparticles: each term made sense on its own, but the idea eluded you. You went back to the table of contents, feeling incredibly stupid, and found the chapter about the AESPC: Antimatter Earth Scale Planck Collider. On the page 169, it began:

"I had an honour of visiting CERN Meyrin Campus in 2081. Under a 100 meters of solid rock, the once-incomparable piece of human art is hidden: now in complete darkness, lit only by the decorative lamps, for visitors like us, who want to touch a piece of history.

The Large Hadron Collider used to represent the absolute height of the craft of humanity: a 27-kilometer ring of superconducting magnets with a number of accelerating structures to boost the energy of the particles along the way. It may sound a bit amusing now, looking at these numbers: 280 trillion protons per beam; 6.8 TeV; 1232 superconducting magnets; roughly 5 billion euros in cost. But let's not forget that these humble beginnings led us to space exploration, the Dyson Sphere and the eventual discovery of the correctness of the M-theory. I looked at the running tubes, holding my breath. It was really, a debilitating feeling to stand in the tunnel where the scientific history was made, little by little, struggle by struggle, where 69 years ago the God Particle was discovered.

Today's AESPC operates on the powers particularly unimaginable for our beginning-of-the-century colleagues: operating at 10¹⁹ GeV, our Antimatter Planck Collider is a state-of-art megastructure stretching 40.000 kilometers around the Earth. Due to mostly ecological and energy consuming issues, as well as the fact that it contains the nuclear power equal to around 43 billion tons of TNT, it's impossible to operate it on the surface of the planet..."

You leafed back to the beginning of the book and opened it randomly again, letters jumping and floating in front of your eyes. For some reason, tears stood on your lashes: tears of anger.

"...gravitons have become the new ghost particles of sorts: elusive, stubborn to no end. However, in 2048, the scientists at the CERN Bengali campus have finally achieved a revolutionary threshold after which there was no way back: using the absence method, like we once did with the neutrino, they have detected the exact moment when, during the collision, graviton left the bunch.

It was the beginning of our SETI Phase 2 adventure".

SETI Phase 2... Search for Extraterrestrial Intelligence... Because they have somehow discovered that they live on a brane... so the multiverse theory is not just a theory to them... you leafed through the other pages searching for the chapter that explained, hopefully, how the humanity took the news that it lives in the Multi-, not Uni- verse. What a well-constructed, detailed hoax, you thought. 670 pages long; not a single blank sheet, not a sike! on the margins. Packed with physics talk, terms, little drawings of the trajectory of a graviton, fields, and the branes, organized together like balloons on a balloon factory. Floating in a row, one after the other.

It was completely ridiculous.

In a fit of rabid amusement, you took the pen from your bag and pressed the page down, then aimed for two inflated universes representing dimensions. On the right one, you wrote: "me", and on the left one, "yoongi". The hand got so irritated that the pen made a little hole in paper.

You snarled.

The book was printed well, everything looked very thought through. You went back to the first page to study the information about this edition: published for the first time in 2090, by Kim Namjoon, the Science Korea publishing house.

He said it rains in winters... the climate must have shifted in their timeline, or maybe it has always been different. If it's torrents of water, other parts of their "planet" must be flooded. The arrogance with which he is now asking for history books and pictures...

He is right about one thing: you need time.

You gathered everything back into your bag and left, forgetting the empty cup on the table: a symbol of loneliness, but whose, you didn't know.

It was a feeling akin to anger, but with addition of uncertainty and confusion. Overwhelmed. People around looked alien and annoying. The bus home smelt funny.

You approached the books when you arrived, looking at your home library, and then picked up several Yoongi books. Your lack of attention was truly staggering. You wanted to google things - and then didn't, distracted. You never looked at the first pages, so engulfed in the Yoongi phenomenon that you just jumped into the stories. When We Cease to Understand the World impressed you enough to buy another book by the same author, so you knew it was a real one. The same happened with the Annihilation trilogy - but you had failed to find anything about Wooseong Wonik on the internet.

In the end, you picked up Pandemic and the Stories I Wrote From Time to Time, and collapsed on a kitchen chair. Looked outside the window at the dark and distant street, staring at the street lights, as if saying goodbye to something. Your city was coloured indigo, and tomorrow you'd have work, which you'd forgotten all about. You didn't believe him. Not really. Who can believe such a thing? Occam's razor... prank. You opened Pandemic and checked the front page, then did the same with Kim Roxanne's collection of stories. The books were published in the years 2100 and 2105.

You stomped your foot on the floor so hard that you hurt it. You didn't even know where all this rage was coming from. Tried googling prank publishing houses, imagining that their advertisment would look something like "print out your hoax book and surprise your friends!" But you found nothing.

Pathetically, you started having dreams about Yoongi. The brain was scrambling to figure out what he looks like. It's natural, to want to see the person you talk to. To know their face. So the mind was confused. In your dreams, you saw him on the street, and every time he looked different: Woo Sunglim was still heavily present in your imagination, but got variations now. One time Yoongi had bright golden eyes like an alien. The other time he had long hair, probably because one of your colleagues recently got a trendy cut.

Roverandom took a place on your bookshelf. The Yoongi books. They stood on their own. They were growing in number so you appropriated them their own space. Aloe died. One day you came home from work, and it was just... dry. Withered, with yellow meaty leaves, dead on the window. You were puzzled most of all, and a little heartbroken.

That aloe plant has been with you for almost a year, and its death ruined your Wednesday. And usually Wednesdays were good.

On Saturday, you went to the book booth with the Art of Loving by Erich Fromm.

You closed the door shut, pulling on the handle to make sure you're safely cut off from the world. As last week, you've decided to read and write at the coffee place, instead of torturing your back here, so you quickly moved away the kids' encyclopedia, but paused a little, looking at the cover.

This time there was a new fingerprint in the dust, which was gathering slowly, maybe as slowly as the mountains grew. But it was still a smooth layer, and in it, your fingers from last week were still visible. However, next to them, on top of an old sunburn spot, appeared a new impression of a thumb, and it absolutely made your head boom a couple of times. So that's Yoongi's finger, huh?

The first physical proof of his existence.

No wait, his handwriting was the first one.

It's just, it became a part of the lore by now. You huffed at yourself. Keeping it all inside was so strange. But, you supposed, falling for a stranger who just gives you books, is odder.

You put the encyclopedia away for a second to pick up his volume. Your eyes quickly focused on the purple cover.

Art of Loving by Erich Fromm.

You looked at the book under your own arm. Yours was yellow and white, the Classics edition.

You looked again.

You picked it up and put the encyclopedia back. This time you had more time to sit at the coffeeshop, because you came earlier.

With the double Art of Loving by Erich Fromm, you marched towards the place, mute and with a nasty, growing grin on your face.

It was very different this time around.

The letter was short. The electric handwriting stayed impeccable. The lines were evenly spaced as if with a ruler. Nothing betrayed the content.

"y/n,

Please don't worry. I have a lot of things left from my mother, and I remember her alright. She would've scolded me for not reading and engaging with the book. You can't imagine how many years it stood on the shelf gathering dust.

By the way, are those your fingers on the encyclopedia?? :) I'm sorry I skipped some of your questions, but I have a suggestion. Feel free to say no, because I know the whole point of a book trade is just trading books. But - would you like to meet up some time? Right by the booth? I will tell you all about the branes, and you will not be able to hide your height from me.

It's just a thought. You're so interesting to talk to;

That vampire butler story felt like it was written by a teenager because it had been written by a teenager. :) The author gathered the stories which she was writing gradually, from time to time. Do you not read foreword? Ha ha ha ha. I would love to tell you more.

Tell me what you think.

I love your paper!

Yoongi :)"

Your heart was hammering loudly in your skull. Not in the chest: it shot all the blood up into your face, meddling with your brain, that started producing quiet noise.

You looked at people around, your teeth tearing your lower lip apart. Yoongi could be right now among these coffee drinkers, sitting by the window and watching you completely lose it in total silence.

You leaned back on the soft cushion with the large banana leaves above your head. You won't be able to comprise a collected response in equally measured lines. And coffee won't help.

You didn't know why you were so fucking happy.

He sounded... er... read, really pretty. Yoongi was pretty on the inside, at least.

"Mr. Yoongi,

I do not read forewords. I have some strange hatred for people telling me what to think about a book before I even started it.

Is 23rd July okay for you? At 14:00?

Here's a little fun fact. We brought each other the same book today. Make of that what you will.

signed y/n :)"

The next hour you were just leafing through his edition of Art of Loving. Yours even had colourful stickers all across the book; you liked it a lot. Found it "universally right" again. You had noted, however, that Yoongi rarely marked his books beyond dog ears - and even those were an event. Now, this, had exactly one dog ear: there was special carefullness in its geometry. You couldn't believe you were staring and analyzing a dog ear on a book page, for god's sake. How big the triangle was. The sharp point of it, looking back at the page. The straight lines lying on the paper; a patch of it slightly thinner because it has been pressed and rubbed by two fingers.

He marked the chapter that was titled "Love as the universal solution to the problem of human existence".

Isn't it something from Interstellar? you thought now. It occurred to you suddenly. Anne Hathaway's character theorized that love was a physical force that commanded the Universe just like gravity, electromagnetism, and nuclear forces. You always found that notion a bit too romantic to your liking. You thought the Universe was beautiful enough already. Even without human love.

There were a dozen of small, deceptively insignificant questions on your mind, like what was the issue with the weather, and where Yoongi works or lives... and some others... but he was right. Once you meet up, you can ask him again.

So... this is happening? You forgot that you wanted to complain about aloe to him. That you were going to ask for a book on how to keep house plants alive and healthy. The 23rd of July was exactly two weeks away. The next Saturday he is supposed to confirm the date and the time. And a week later, there will be no book.

Just a person standing next to the old booth.

The whole week you saw exclusively dreams about meeting him. They weren't emotional - rather, a little anxious, calculating. Your habit of containing the strong emotions, as if they can burst you if you let them out, always resulted in the overanalysis of life events during the night time. Your brain kept playing out the same scenario again and again: you walk up to the booth. The man (short dark hair, glasses, because he's Mr. Physics, cool nylon bomber) turns around, and then your brain glitches. You couldn't paint his face from nothing. Didn't know his features. You were philosophizing about what if he is ugly, unbearably unpretty, even though intelligent, and kind, and thoughtful. Are you a big enough person to still get along? And continue liking him? Will you really be able to see his inner beauty shine through? And worse, what if he thinks you're ugly?

In the mornings, you closely studied yourself in the mirror, and every time you got less and less pretty under this scrutiny. But there was no way out: the yes has been sent; and it was for the best.

You told your friends that you are finally meeting up with the book mate with whom you've been exchanging notes for two months. They were happy for you. They thought Yoongi was a nerd. Let's just hope he's a cute nerd, they said. People of science, especially if it's, god forbid, theoretical science, are impossible to live with, they said. As if you were already planning all that. They were already looking at the large scale.

The next Saturday, the book in your hand was pretending like nothing out of the ordinary was happening; you put on your new jacket and did your hair JUST in case Yoongi decides to show up earlier. Just because he's impatient or wants it to be a surprise. You looked around discreetly: the street was full of people as always. Walking hands clasped, chatting, some with the sun umbrellas, some smoking, some on their phones. Nobody was stopping near you or waiting for you, so you entered the book booth and firstly, breathed in its taste slowly. It's been a while since you first noticed this plastic unliving smell, and now it was totally different. The dust was familiar; you could tell somebody had brought several new shop books: they had fresher, more intense, sharper scent.

You lifted the kids' encyclopedia which had several sets of finger impressions now, and discovered a copy of Girl With All the Gifts by M.R. Carey. Bright yellow cover with a red silhouette of a little girl with her arms spread. A scary story: you've seen the movie but haven't read the original yet. You wondered if Yoongi was now communicating like that, too. Under the cover, there was no letter at all: instead, a black and white drawing of a small plump flower of incredible beauty. It hurt your chest to see how good of an artist made this: it sprung at you immediately, bearing magnetism, shape and softness. The flower looked like a hybrid of hydrangea, iris and an anemone. Its stem was carefully cut short under the head; such details that you didn't breathe for a while, stunned. The line of the cut suggested it was scissors. Petals had fluff at the edges, and even the shadows were light and transparent instead of monochrome. It felt like a fond smile; if that's possible to transcend through a picture.

No notes otherwise; just a symbolic confirmation, or a burst of creativity.

You took the Girl With All the Gifts and replaced it with Mirror of My Heart: a Thousand Years of Persian Poetry by Women. You've read it recently and were impressed by how women who had lived a thousand years ago, wrote exactly about all the same things. About what they loved, what they hated, and their heartbreak.

You didn't really know what to say, especially now as the electric silence of expectation hung in the booth. You squatted among the books, disappearing within their piles, and scribbled on your purple paper:

"Do you like poetry? I feel like I've always circled it like an assailant around a fortress that cannot be taken. I still liked this one though.

Signed y/n. See you soon".

Is it too desperate? you asked yourself. See you soon, who even says that. Impatient much? Lovesick fool. And when he shows up and turns out to have HUGE teeth? What if he has GIGANTIC teeth? Or a monobrow? Or, or, what if he's actually sexist? You haven't spoken about literature written by women with him yet, what if he is one of those? And this is the person to whom you wrote "see you soon" like a complete idiot, like a teenager.

Opening the booth door, you nearly crashed it into a man passing by, and gave him the weirdest look because you were trying to see if he has the physics nerd air about him.

His question about your height was weird, no? What for? Is it like, the is my trunk big enough for your body situation?

All you could do the whole next week was read Girl With All the Gifts. And stare at the flower. Thankfully, work was a lot, and exhausted you insrumountably, so you read slower than usual.

And then, all of a sudden, as the hamster wheel turned and turned again, Saturday came.

In the morning, you were studying yourself in the mirror again. Are both your eyes on the same level? Doesn't look like it. Is your smile still as fresh and glimmery as when you were a kid? He said you were strict, and what you really were, was sentimental as hell. Just, easy and naive. Were you even pretty at all?

You did your best light makeup. You tried to look as you were: happy. Whatever comes, comes. You will show him the lame tropical prints in the coffeeshop - that is, if he hadn't seen them already. After all, you visit the same book booth.

Why would he wear a bomber in this time of year? It's hot every day. You yourself put on a crop top. Not too flashy, not too fancy, but sneakily complimenting whatever is going on with your chest. In jeans, it was a little too hot, but they looked good on you.

You took the bus, as always, and actually brought a book with you, thinking it would be a nice gesture. It was the Sanshiro you had picked up at the booth the first time you went there. Beautiful sky-blue cover and the seemingly omnipotent wisdom about life, on the inside.

The day was sunny and hot. No shade around the book booth, so you stood right in the heat, your back to the door so nobody could accidentally enter and not notice you. Deep breath. Nothing to worry about. This is not an exam. The book lay in your tote bag as you leaned against the hard frame, hot wood absorbing the sunlight.

People passed you by. Some looked at you shortly, girls - with shyly pursed lips and curious eyes: a compliment to your outfit. You felt confident and calm. The clock checked 14:00 and then a couple minutes later, the small of your back got a little tired from tension. You changed the pose. The natural instinct is to text a person when you're not sure how late they want to be; and when it's someone whose phone number you don't have, it feels like suddenly discovering you don't have an arm.

Wouldn't it be a nice thing to do to show up a little earlier, like you did? After all, he was the one who suggested meeting; unless.

You told yourself that five minutes is no time.

Then you told yourself ten minutes is still within the excusable range; maybe he's in a traffic jam or his dog is vomiting, and there is no way for him to let you know.

To hide from the sun, you entered the book booth and started looking around at the books you've been ignoring ever since you've "met" Yoongi. They were no less worthy books, lying around and unwanted, and yet containing some massive knowledge or incredible adventure. There were several volumes of old sci-fi, bound in broken, beautiful, cartoonish covers. The margin of the possibility of Yoongi not seeing you next to the booth and leaving immediately, although anxious and completely stupid, forced you out again. You put three new finds into your bag: Forgive Me, Leonard Peacock, Beautiful Country, and Lunar Park.

You were, in fact, quite surprised that he wasn't showing up. Of course there is always a possibility that someone is pulling your leg. But you frankly just didn't expect it from Yoongi. A couple of times nice looking young men passed you by, and you were reading off their micro-expressions, looking at their hands, shoulders, that would give away something. Maybe he had shown up, looked at you from afar and went "nah, fuck this". That thought quietly terrified you.

You started feeling like a lost puppy that raises its head towards every passer-by. It's been thirty minutes. You retrieved back into the book booth, defeated.

Checked the tower under the encyclopedia just in case. Nothing new.

It wasn't too devastating, but still very upsetting. It was so hollow in your head, so silent. No screaming, like your mind usually was. Just mute. Humiliated, probably.

You dug around a little more, trying to get distracted, but the volumes of titles just piled up above your head, leaving no impression. Just colours. Just letters.

You put Sanshiro on top of a tower and took out the purple paper which you now always carried in your bag.

"Hi!

I've waited for an hour. I'm sure it's the right day? Please let me know that you're alright and just stood me up!

You paused. You wanted it to be not too patronising, but not too defeatist either. No sore questions. Believing in the best: there are many reasons he didn't show up, before it being a simple prank or him, a coward.

Yet, you didn't feel like being jolly.

Signed y/n"

You put the paper in Sanshiro and hid it under the encyclopedia, then went to the coffeeshop to somehow salvage the day. The whole Saturday was yours, you could go clubbing after all. The world doesn't revolve around him although it would've been better to have him in it.

The irregularity that has occurred completely broke your normal routine.

You visited the book booth on Monday to see if Sanshiro had been picked up: not yet.

You went back on Wednesday, and it was gone. No new letter yet, but it meant something, right?

Seoul seemed so different all of a sudden. It has acquired a strange silence about it.

By Friday, you couldn't wait anymore and didn't care how you looked, going back to the booth again and again. After work, you got off too late, so late in fact that the booth was already closed for the night. You stood there in front, on the square, lit by electric pearl lights, staring through the window.

On Saturday, it felt as if things didn't change. Your brain couldn't cope with a shifted situation, and told you it was all as before, and now you will get a new book and a long letter with sincere and passionate apologies; three pages, no less. You had certain trust in human rationality. Min Yoongi had always seemed like someone with integrity.

That's why it felt so destructive, so ugly, to find the emptiness in the booth. It was full of books. But, in place of Sanshiro, no new covers appeared, and the dust was covering the encyclopedia anew, bearing no new fingerprints.

You usually gave people about just one chance. Especially those people who weren't your close friends or someone who had proven themselves before.

Yes, it was a nasty offense, maybe even a cut on you - that sort of infatuation felt unexpectedly hopeful. But a stunt like this killed the feeling really quickly.

Guess you'd move on.

It was not the end of the world; you put the Yoongi books back on the regular shelf, and now that you've done it, it became quite clear that you have been a tiny bit obsessed.

The letters moved to in between the fridge and the side of a cupboard in the kitchen, together with some postcards from friends. Time solves everything. A cool thing about life is that time gives you answers to pretty much all confusion, if only you allow it.

On Monday, you went back to work and was happy it all ended pretty soon before you got too invested. Dreams, they are just normal processing mechanism. Without night dreams, you would have been more jumpy about things on the regular.

The new weekend was approaching, and you were actually more consumed by the coming holiday now. Finally, a chance to leave this city and go to the mainland. Breathe the dry air. Forget things and put them into perspective. Maybe talk to someone else.

However, your brain was requiring shyly whether you want to take the usual city road back home in the evening. Whether you have plans for Saturday. Whether you're curious to check.

You told your friends about the asshole from the book booth, and they supported you accordingly, saying that cute theoretical science nerds do not make for good husband material anyway. And you had no way to explain to them that nobody was going to get married yet.

You normally gave people just one chance. It's not hard, so you didn't think it was too cruel. Just don't be a jerk - is the only requirement.

The curiosity made you go back again, not at the weekend, but on Monday: for the last time.

It was dry and windy, the dust flew in gusts across the street, getting stuck in the hair. Some sand was even on the floor of the book booth, and your hands felt like paper.

The encyclopedia was clean like someone wiped it off. And you got a feeling. You moved it away to discover a new book you've never seen before: you struggled for a while to tell what throws you off about it. The black sleek cover looked impressive, even dashing: sparkles of the stars around a particle, and clearly it was one, of metallic cold colour. You took the book in your hand and saw the edge of a letter peeking out from under the cover. But it was that - the cover - that kept you looking until your brain finally clicked.

Gravitons: How We Discovered Aliens by Kim Namjoon.

"Hey y/n,

Not going to lie, I had a kind of a shiver right now. It's so important to me that you get my books; should we think of another corner of the booth to leave them? Maybe in the west corner, under the encyclopedias? There's a fine layer of dust, I think nobody digs there. I will leave this one on the pile for now, tell me what you think. I really don't want our trade to end, you are maybe the first person I ever met with taste for good books and shitty books in the right way.

And no, I think you're strict :) even from the way you talk about literature, it feels like you might punch me through the paper if I categorize something wrong, but don't worry, it's sort of funny :)

Thank you for the book. It was very illuminating. Since I am hoping you're bringing me the string theory, can I ask for cosmology next? Any classics? Sagan? Can I make a guess? You like him a lot for his ironic anthropocentric views?

I hope your skin is now fine, since it's been a while? How do you read books so fast? You know the longest I've ever taken reading a book? I spent a whole year on Paradise Lost. It was so tedious, oh my god. I felt obliged to finish it because I never drop books. But man. The pathos?! The pathos, I ask you?!

As to physics, let me pose a counter question. What do you know about branes? Supersymmetry is cool if you philosophize it a bit, right? People like to talk about soulmates who are lost across time, say, and they are attracted to each other in spite of all obstacles. But supersymmetry is cooler because it says that it's not soulmates but star crossed enemies, and they strive to meet up using any means possible, and then the second they do, they annihilate each other. As far as I know, there are no books with this plot, what do you think?

You asked me to bring you my favourite book. I have reread the Stories I Wrote From Time to Time about ten times in one year, when I discovered it. Maybe it's an inordinary book to love, but I am absolutely hooked on the concept of being kicked out of a country if you aren't happy. What is happiness at all, you know? Are you happy? Can you tell me how it feels? I'm not a downer, I promise. Hope you're doing well :)

Yoongi"

You have never specifically registered that Yoongi writes in black ink while you write in blue. It jumped at you just now, as you finished the letter made of well-organized lines, the electric tails and horns dancing their neat dance. It still looked unhurried, in total control, even though the emotions flooded the text. You could almost imagine his voice, be it completely irrational.

You didn't know why his "you"s felt so fucking personal. The corner of your mouth got pulled up as you reread the whole thing. You did not have the notebook with you. But the end paper of Everything is Now: Revolutionary Ideas from String Theory by Bill Spence was two-fold, so, when you've had enough of his handwriting, a little numb to the emotion, as if it was too much to unpack just now, you put away Yoongi's gift and opened yours.

"I think the corner under encyclopedias is a good idea, but we also have to make sure we oraganize it in such a way that it doesn't draw anybody's eyes. And don't worry, if someone carries away your book, I will still leave something and let you know that I hadn't found anything.

I will, however, punch you through the paper if you speak ill of sir Milton who wrote the untouchable angelic masterpiece called Paradise Lost. Consumed it in two days. A year, dude? Ooooooooohhh myyyy god! Do you even know what generational, life-changing, iconic piece of literature that work inspired? I'm sure you know. It starts in a hole in the ground and ends in the white city of Gondor.

Is this book ok? String theory was harder to find, and honestly I got a little lost in the abundance of similar works, but I hope this one is more or less full? I can buy some others if you don't like this one, Mr. Physics. The supersymmetry arch nemeses thing sounds awesome and completely catastrophic if it ends up in the wrong hands. You know, in the computer of some booktok writer for example. Many a trope have fallen because of the modern lit habits... Talk about how demand and the reader's profile destroys art that's existed since the dawn of time.

The only thing I know about branes is that it's misspelled brains. I mean yes, I read about branes but it seems like a very vague and obscure theory to me, maybe you'll tell me more?

I do like Sagan, and, even though I haven't read him in a while (I finished all his books), I do remember I like him for his optimism. He inspired Tyson a lot, and I really enjoy that one video where he says that the most astounding thing about the Universe is how small we are. For you my knowledge and associations must be very shallow, because I'm not a physicist, but that's what I have!

I am not always happy. Sometimes I am happy, sometimes I am not. I think we have deluded ourselves into thinking that only happiness is the satisfactory state of life, when in reality even sadness works very well to keep us lucid."

You almost wrote something like "I'm happy when I get a message from you", and caught yourself. Already there, huh? Is this a quick chemical trip of a high upon a new acquaintance? Are you this emotionally cheap? You pursed your lips, the pen frozen over the paper. Suddenly you wanted to look around into the street to imagine what you look like, focused as hell, stooping over books inside this tiny booth. The sky was getting cast, the grey slowly crawling across the streets like the lightest blanket. It was as if something drew closer.

You abandoned the thought. Quite impressed by how naked Yoongi decided to be about this happiness thing. He's probably lonely too. You got very curious about his favourite read and now couldn't wait to get somewhere to sit and read. Decided on the same coffeeshop two steps away...

You finished the letter there, only adding the "signed y/n". The second page almost ended. You then squeezed into the very small space at the bottom:

"Put the next book under the encyclopedias in the corner then?", and thus, your letter ended the way it began. You still left the book on top of the lowest tower in hopes that nobody nicks it away.

It was endearing that Yoongi got so worried. Nothing unfixable, though? You realized there's a letter in your pocket now. From now on, it's a full correspondence rather than book exchange with notes. What if you buy some special paper? What if you choose some with tiny ornaments on the edges, so that your letters have character? This seemed like an exciting venture once again. But first you wanted to read the Stories I Wrote From Time to Time.

It was quite a ride. A collection of short stories that all told about a life of one girl who moved into a special artificial country where only happy people were allowed to be residents. The government was attempting to create a sort of an ideal state with no discrimination, no depression, no crime. The whole concept and idea of checking if the person is happy, the document acquisition procedure and the built of this state was heavily underwritten and sprinkled all across the book. But intentionally, it wasn't the point of the whole story. The short extracts, the chapters, were actually dedicated to the various adventures of the main character in the style of magical realism. The girl only rarely went back to that happy country and spoke about its laws, constitution, the police and the terms of living. More often, she travelled; two chapters, for example, were set in Japan where she met an actual vampire at a bar. He was dying from heat drinking a lemonade and, out of boredom, explained to her that one can become a vampire if they learn the truth about the inception of the Universe. An individual completely loses their sanity and everything that made them an ordinary human, and becomes a vampire. Later the girl met an old lady who lived on the same street as her rented house. And the old neighbour told her a story about how she travelled to the magical world as a kid, but was later kicked out of it because she grew too old, kind of Narnia style. Whether the old lady was just crazy or really had been to the magical world, was left intentionally ambiguous.

It was a very controversial book in terms of plot. Some stories were completely realistic, others dipped into full fantasy, and some were incredibly psychological and serious. At the same time, the core idea, the happy country, lacked depth as if the author was too lazy to think the concept through. Yoongi seemed to like the books that felt like a badly sewn-together tapestry. Like his mind was completely open to any interpretations; he enjoyed the heavy lifting of understanding. Like he was completely liberal to experimental literature. You wondered what he saw in this book.

You now could put the strange gift on the shelf, and keep his letter separately. You decided to put it in the drawer of your desk, together with the important documents, because it created a sense of realism. He really existed. He really said that he got shivers upon thinking of losing connection with you.

He asked about your sunburn.

You didn't know why you were so impressed by this bare minimum, by his ability to remember things that you told him about. Because he was still just a spirit to you, fleshless, voiceless, lacking real drawbacks, almost lacking agency, you started to romantisize him against all other people around you. Those, they didn't focus on you as much. They were sort of boring. They didn't notice how strict you were about literature - it didn't matter to them. You barely spoke to them about books. Your friends spoke of the usual adult things: babies. Rent. The office injustices. Groceries prices. And, at the bars, holding the cold wet glass in your palm, socializing with them because they, too, were a part of your world, nowadays you caught yourself thinking about the microcosm of the book booth. Where beyond the dirty windows, the street was always a little blurrier, a little shiny because of the specks of dust. Like an old Japanese movie.

The next week you had to hold yourself back mentally; a little bit; it's just letter exchange, really. It's like Glam but slower and more intelligent. You shouldn't take it too seriously.

On Saturday, you stepped into the book booth, and your gaze fell on the lowest tower immediately to find it empty. You then moved to the right corner, where the General Knowledge for Kids! encyclopedia rested flatly, lifelessly, with the untouched layer of dust. How does one move it away so that the dust remains intact? You couldn't. Your fingers left an impression as you took it by the spine: four oval prints. You put it away to find a green and yellow copy of Roverandom which made you yelp. Out of all books you could have discovered here, you did not expect this one. It felt like... like a... you put the encyclopedia away, your hand hovering over the colourful cover for a second, with a smile on your face that cracked it in half. You might have even said something along the lines of "no way!", and then you picked it up. Under the front cover, richly illustrated in small strokes, was a folded letter.

You decided to do it differently this time.

You left the book booth immediately and walked towards the coffeeshop where you sat down under the tropical-green print of the banana palm leaves. The same type of coffee as before, you laid all your loot on the table: Roverandom, which you held with special tenderness, the folded letter on clean white paper, the black lines shining through; a copy of Cosmos - an old one, from your home library, and the pack of coloured paper you had bought.

Roverandom was a collection of fairytales that John Tolkien had written before the Lord of the Rings or even the Hobbit. The fact that Yoongi chose this book, spoke volumes about him, even though you didn't know WHICH volumes. You just knew it was significant.

When your coffee was brought, you opened the letter.

"y/n hi! Did you find me? Thank you for the string theory. It's a very good and full book and I don't need more. As I was reading it, it reminded me of my school years for some reason. Especially of the times when I used to play digiball on my class team, and how I was torn between physics and sports. I loved both equally and it was so painful to decide which one to choose. And then I just grew up, and it became kinda obvious. You just reminded me of those times, when I was completely consumed by the M-theory and the parallel worlds stuff, and my belief was completely anti-scientific, and yet!

Again I have to bow down and wear sackcloth and ashes upon having insulted sir Milton and his boring ass epic tome. I apologize!!! I hope this Roverandom copy can heal the wound I so carelessly, thoughtlessly inflicted upon you... I was never into fantasy, but my mom was - she had a collection of Mary Stewart books about the wizard Merlin, and read some of Tolkien to me when I was little. However, it never stuck. This book has been at home for ages and it never had any purpose before, so I suppose you'll be a better owner to it by default. I only remember something about the dog that travelled to the moon... as in, the fun way, not inside a hot metal coffin.

What is booktok? I'll tell you more, modern literature is dead. It's deader than a rock. It's sad, but I suppose it was inevitable. But I wouldn't like to talk about it while there are still books from the past that I haven't read. Let's just say - it's dead for everyone, but not for us - y/n and Yoongi, right? :)

Can I ask a weird question? What is your height? You made me think of it with that tiny humans in big Universe Tyson thing.

I think he w is a fraud.

Thank you for your insights. They bring a lot of relief.

I do not have any more specific requests. Bring me something you choose yourself?

Mr. Physics"

Your hand found your mouth and blocked it, hiding the gritted teeth.

A lot of things jumped at you all at the same time, and you raised your eyes, looking around. The music in your earbuds was blocking the noises, cradling you in a transparent bubble of your own thoughts. The coffee tasted sweeter than usual. This w transgression was only the second time Yoongi allowed some imperfection in his letters, whereas you made little errors and crossed out words pretty often. It was interesting. It clearly hinted that he was going to write "was" and then corrected it to "is", because Neil Degrasse Tyson was still alive. Maybe he confused him with some other fraud at first.

You looked again at the book his mother used to own. It shouldn't be a big thing; his logic is very justified: giving up a significant volume to someone who will make better use of it.

For the first time, you thought about smelling it. Smelling a book he held in his hands. It felt horribly wrong, awkward. Instead, you drilled it into place with your gaze, uncertain of how to feel. You almost forgot you're meant to write the response. And it was getting closer to the evening: you've seen several times that for the night, some worker - maybe a local shop owner, or the city staff - locks the booth with a key. Maybe the books come alive at night and tend to run away in different directions, and someone wants to keep them all in one place.

You opened the pack of sheets that you'd bought. It was lilac-light paper with barely visible ornament at the edges, just like you wanted. A little girly? But elegant. The pattern was forming floral strings. But they could be interpreted as comet tails, too. Basically, whatever Yoongi's imagination will dictate him. You were curious to find out what he makes of them.

"Your mother's book is a very serious present, and I don't use this word lightly. Thank you for bringing it to me, and I will take care of it. However, if you ever want it back, I will return it. Even having it for a while is appreciated. Are you sure you don't want to keep something that reminds you of her? You've spoken about her so gently. Do you know there were goblins on the moon?

Booktok is that part of tiktok where people post about their reads. Counter question: what is digiball? You sound cool. You are fogiven again, of course. Although something tells me you are pulling my leg...

I brought you Cosmos. I think it should be everybody's favourite book, or at least among favourites. It's just universally right.

You don't seem to answer my questions. Never told me what Ray-11 XAB Seoul department was, and now omitted the branes. I will have to google them myself. So I won't tell you my height :)

Since you seem to understand me and not judge (because I am the judgy one), I will say this: I agree about the lit, but there's comfort in knowing you're uniting us this way so we can still enjoy something even though it's dead.

Are you happy?

With the choice you made? When you chose physics?

I've read the Stories I Wrote From Time to Time. It's such a strange book! I see the charm, and at the same time I am totally confused. Some chapters were so profound, and the others, just silly. Especially that story about the castle on the hill and the butler vampire. First of all, how odd to include two separate stories about vampires in one book! While they follow completely different vampire mythologies. Second, it felt like it was written by a teenager: so corny, so melodramatic and at the same very violent. The ending left me bitter...

The whole happy country idea I get the fascination with, but I wanted to read more about it. I couldn't find anything about the author. Is it a local writer? Your friend? Why couldn't I google them?

signed y/n".

This came out shorter, but the air around you felt loaded. You put a full stop in your blue ink and looked at your own handwriting.

You had to hurry. You finished the coffee and gathered all your things in your arms, and paced back to the book booth. The summer sun was low, about to sharply dip behind the tall buildings on the horizon, and bring the night. There was no light in the booth, and it was all basking in dark-gold colour of the evening. Quite menacing, really. You found the encyclopedia where you had left it, on a separate pile of books, and put the Cosmos by Carl Sagan upon the Mushrooms Across the World: a Path in the Forest. Then you hid it under the General Knowledge for Kids!

Roverandom was heavy in your bag, and the letter burned your pocket.

It's weird how you could feel a shifted mood through simple writing.

It was marvelous, really.

After the kill Yoongi pulled last week, you decided to put a small pause on the shitty-books-good-movies list and meant to deliver him one of the most profound books you've ever read: The Mysterious Stranger by Mark Twain. There's no way to seem deeper than you are, and you decided not to put too much pressure on yourself; if that's your peak, then so be it. But it was a fundamental book for a young girl who was doubting her moral compass at a time.

At the very last moment you recalled Yoongi was complaining about his brains craving something less imposing, and switched it for the Dracula's Guest and Other Weird Stories by Bram Stoker. With the screeching of the heart, that is, but you did it, because, you decided, there is no better way to take the mind off things than some short horror stories written by a master.

You didn't really know what to write to him after Labatut's behemoth, so you went for his message first.

The book he's left you this time seemed to be a nordic novel. Buzz Aldrin, What Happened to You in All the Confusion? by one Johan Harstad.

Inside, Yoongi, who has long turned from "book pal" into an almost formed entity in your mind, wrote:

"y/n, this book was s̲h̲i̲t̲ ̲s̲h̲i̲t̲. I am so happy we met in this book booth because who else could have made me this angry? To be very honest with you - and I don't know your attitude towards it - I threw Mysterious River across the kitchen a couple of times. What a great enraging read! And then I watched the movie - and you were right. For me, even the actors couldn't save this f̲u̲c̲k̲i̲n̲g̲ ̲c̲i̲r̲c̲u̲s̲.

I recently recalled this little book that name drops that Norwegian band from forever ago. I didn't l o v e it, but objectively speaking I think it's a great novel. And the reason I wasn't in love with it was, it hit too close to home. I've been asking myself while reading, if I am a little bit of a Mattias. Maybe striving for wins every time is overrated?

Anyway, I wanted to ask you something. How is the weather? Also, can you, for the next Sunday, bring me the latest published book on physics? Literally the newest book you can find? It doesn't matter if it's a professional read or pop sci. Thank you :)"

Interesting request. You couldn't stop smiling. Your choices create an effect on someone's behaviour. You liked the way he writes your name. Same electric letters, unhurried flow. The underlines that highlighted his "shit shit" and "fucking circus" were straight as hell, incredibly confident, with almost robotic precision. And yet his note oozed emotions. You placed the Bram Stoker's collection on your lap and scribbled the response:

"I'm also happy you stumbled upon the Butcher Boy. My life is mostly a hamster wheel, and to be frank visiting this place at the weekend freshens things up. I know you didn't mean it seriously, but I'm glad we're trading books. You've given me a couple of stimulating reads; When We Cease to Understand the World has changed my brain chemistry.

The weather is still good (scorching). I got burned up a little yesterday in the inner yard, even though I spent only fifteen minutes in the sun. Today I brought you horror stories because you mentioned you wanted to relax a little on the books. But next week I will go find you some physics stuff from this year. You know, I myself can't wrap my head around the generations of quarks, and why they have these funny names. Are you a physicist?

Signed y/n"

You intentionally omitted putting a comma after "signed", and you meant for it to become a you thing. Just as you started associating smiley faces with Yoongi, you hoped he would think about you when he sees "signed".

There was an array of red cars on the other side of the road from the booth when you left. You rarely saw red cars in bulks in Seoul. People here preferred to ride around in gloomy and boring black and white.

The tops of zelkova trees were swinging lazily in the barely noticeable wind. You were on a mission now! You mentally checked your calendar and chose the evenings after work when you would go to the book store - or maybe plural, book stores, to find the latest physics volumes.

You leafed through the Harstad's novel at home, drinking tea slowly. It's complicated trying to imagine a person you've never seen, throw a book across the kitchen. For some reason you kept picturing Yoongi as Woo Sunglim from Tuesday Beach Club: the way Yoongi wrote, felt young. You pictured him with this short hair and attentive keen eyes, scrunching his nose with disgust as he swung his shoulder and threw the Mysterious River, and then grinned at hiimself.

Buzz Aldrin, What Happened to You in All the Confusion? felt like drinking cold water from a murky, old, stained glass; it felt cold; detached, like all nordic literature. You haven't read any Scandinavian lit in a while and quite forgot how it brings the cool of windy autumn to the room. The pen, the language, the feeling is always impeccable. But fuck it if it's not some of the most depressing stuff, even with the profound plots. The book was good. It spoke about real friendships that are formed between inconvenient people, unstable people, sad people. You really read carefully into the character of Mattias, and, even though you sympathized with him, you hoped Yoongi isn't too similar. Beaten down, passive and intentionally losing, a leave-me-alone type of person who has an unhealthy conviction to always being the second best only to escape the extra work.

You spent the next working days at the central bookstore, because finding the very newest release in physics wasn't as obviously easy as it might have seemed. About half an hour into it on Thursday, you stood up from your crouching position in front of the Science stand with a couple of books in your hands. The Edge of Space-Time: Particles, Poetry, and the Cosmic Dream Boogie by Chanda Prescod-Weinstein just released last month, and you chose this one for Yoongi, having made sure it's definitely about physics of the Universe. Verging on the cosmology, but, as you have learned pretty long time ago, cosmology and physics cannot function without each other.

For yourself you also picked a couple of books even though you weren't sure when you would read them as every week you were consumed by a new piece your dedicated book pal has left you.

On Saturday, almost in the middle of summer, you were walking towards the booth a little bit later than usual - and witnessed the door open and close.

A man exited.

You stopped in your tracks, just after crossing the street, at the traffic light. And looked.

A tall man with a short cut, in a light jean jacket and black trousers - you only saw the back of him. He had a book in his hand, with a grey, ghostly cover. Something seemed to possess him as he stepped out into the street and carefully closed the booth door, making sure it went all the way. Then he lifted the book and opened it.

You stood there, a thousand of conflicting thoughts shooting at your perception centers, all in order. Yoongi, even though you didn't know his habits, was unlikely to leave without a book from you, right? But what could stop him from taking any others, too? What if... what if you're not the only book mate he is trading with? You watched the man's sharp profile, eyebrows looked strict, and he refused, in your mind, to go along with the Yoongi :). Of course, nobody can stop him from trading with other people... and leaving them messages... but that would... that would make you very upset, irrationally.

The man seemed to have changed his mind. Upon reading the first page, he closed the book and hastily returned inside the booth where he placed it on the nearest tower. Then, without taking anything else, he left again, now walking away with determination.

You looked at his back, wondering whether you should follow. Whether this is the Yoongi from Ray-11 XAB Seoul department. He went. And went. And you only made ten steps, standing in between the traffic light and the booth. Finally, as he made it to the end of the building, you entered the booth and looked at the book he put back. It was No Longer Human by Dazai. You knew this one pretty well. You opened it, and the puzzle came together. That stranger must have just been a thoughtful person. He had chosen this book for himself and then something itched him to look inside: he saw Yoongi's message, which started with your name. He must have understood this one was meant for someone else. And returned it.

In between the nice girls, and this guy, Seoul was seemingly trying to trick you into thinking it was a friendly and safe place. You just couldn't believe how compassionate people sometimes were.

"Hey y/n,

No, I meant it completely seriously. I'm also stuck at the labs all day long, sometimes I don't have days off. You're actually the only person I "talk" to outside work. You remind me a little bit of my mother, even though I don't know you well, who had passed away a while ago. Her lungs were useless. You have the same curiosity I think. Although she used to be way less strict than you :)

Put some sour cream on your sunburn :)

And yes, I am in physics, you could say that. About quarks: don't be fooled by the word "generation", because quarks don't produce other quarks. In fact, we now call them groups of quarks. The names are pretty random, except Up and Down. Strange got its name because it was behaving weirdly at the time of discovery, and Charm got its name because it finally made a pair to Strange. Other pairs are Up and Down and Top and Bottom. They go like this:

Basic group: Up and Down.

Middle group: Charm and Strange.

Heavy group: Top and Bottom. The heavy group decays extremely fast because these have the biggest masses. Re

Every single quark also has something we call a colour, which isn't a colour at all, and I've been arguing with people a lot about why we need to change that name to a less misleading one.

I really liked some of the Stoker stories. Especially the one about the kitten and his mum. Is it bad I don't like Dracula at all? It's so dragged out and boring. But these were really good, some of them pretty creepy. There's an armchair in my bedroom. Believe it or not, I moved it to the door now, haha. These almost primal triggers hit really well when you live in a big city. How's the weather?

I have another request again. Could you next week bring me a book on string theory? Preferably a comprehensive review or some new edition? I hope it's not annoying you?

Yoongi :)"

This time the note was so long that it took the whole white page, and he squeezed the Yoongi :) in smaller letters at the bottom.

You were taken aback. Are you strict?

You looked around at the books as if they could advise you on whether he was right. What a strange thing to say!

You laid the The Edge of Space-Time: Particles, Poetry, and the Cosmic Dream Boogie on the tower and started writing.

"The weather is still the same. Where are you? Seoul is almost burning, nowadays even I feel a little bit choked up. Thank you for explaining the quarks, if you were one, you'd be Charm.

Am I really strict? Do I seem strict? Is it my lack of drawings?

Then you drew three smiley faces below, almost identical ones.

I found this very new book that came out in May. I hope it's something that you'll like. Although I'm a bit curious why a dude who knows so much about quarks wants to read more books on physics. Isn't your head like an encyclopedia? Haha. No worries. I will find something about the string theory. Completely coincidentally, I recently read that there hasn't been any progress on it since 2023, so it will be something underwhelming either way.

So if you're in physics, which theory do you like the most? The technicolour, the multiverse or supersymmetry?

By the way I like No Longer Human a lot, I've read it a while ago. I think I enjoy anything in Japanese... anyway, since we're making requests now, show me your favourite book of all time? I am, as you said, curious. Bye!

P.S. So, as I was walking to the booth today, I saw a man who almost snatched your book for himself, but then he noticed your message, and put it back. How thoughtful is that?

Signed y/n"

Maybe he travels to Seoul once a week from... Incheon? But the weather can't be very different thirty kilometers away. What a funny guy. You smirked to yourself as you swapped books, then, feeling exceptionally proud of yourself for bringing up all those string theory models, left.

It's funny how this little weekly occurrence was now occupying your mind all the time. You started thinking of the past weeks not in the usual dates, but in numbers of book booth visits.

You wanted to tell him about the aloe on your window sill: the only plant living in your place. This kind of exchange trained your patience: you didn't have a messenger where you could text Yoongi any time. All week you've been harbouring thoughts and little observations that you wanted to write to him about, only to drop them all on Friday. What for? You still aren't, strictly speaking, friends. He might just one day decide to stop reading. Or move away. Or just lose interest in this correspondence. Or it may even be you. You would have a vacation in August, and with some mild pleasure you realized you will need to tell him about it because you had plans to leave Seoul for a week.

You had a dream about technicolour right before the weekend. You didn't know why your mind chose that one specifically, and the dream also was completely confusing since you never decided how you even imagine this thing and what it truly is.

You had decided to omit that, too, not to fall flat on your face in "front" of the Mr. Scientist.

His portrait was coming up surprisingly well - or you have become hyperfocused on him. The little details of him were gathering together to form a kind of a misty constellation. Emotional. Lost his mom. Smart, he must be, if he's "in physics". Open, and open-minded. Reflecting. Yoongi also came across incredibly... alive? Maybe, real.

People around were infuriating sometimes. Treating relationships transactionally, following trends to the point where their opinions sounded rehearsed. Always in a hurry, all dressed the same, and sometimes too polite without a reason.

But that all could very well be an illusion, of course. You've only known Yoongi eight pages long, and the extracts of his life were about one thousandth of what he really was. And still.

The word "lonely" circulated your mind a lot these days. Are you lonely enough to get attached to a stranger bringing you books and drawing smiley faces? Are you lonely enough to mistake strangers for this person? Are you lonely enough to build a connection intense enough that now, as you looked at any books, you thought not of their contents, but of him?

Maybe yes?

Did he think about you too?

All the times up to now, he seemed to foresee your concerns. Strange connection.

On Saturday, you found a book that was titled Stories I Wrote From Time to Time by Kim Roxanne. Strange names of authors Yoongi picked almost every time: it was a book you didn't know. Like literature from another world. You stared at the name and the cover for a while, tasting the moment, stretching it, taking in all the details. Since you didn't know what he looks like; what he sounds like; the covers were his face. If he did as you had asked, this was his favourite book of all time. On the cover, pleasantly stylized, there were futuristic-looking tall white buildings drowning in trees. The sky was painted dreamily, with extra effort. The clouds looked so puffy, so happy; they strongly reminded you of a painting you'd seen. You even put the book down, savouring it, patient, without opening it yet, and took out your phone. Of course! They looked like if Clouds by René Magritte met Ghibli. The cover itself was so warm and airy, so fulfilled, that you spent a whole other minute studying it, taking in the blinding white of the buildings, and the deep light blue of the sky, and the joyful green of the trees. Finally, you opened it, and a piece of paper fell out from under the front cover.

There was no text under it now. You bent down to pick the sheet up, and now in your hand, lay a full letter from Min Yoongi.

it had been building for months now, a slow unraveling that you hadn’t even noticed until the exam grades started rolling in and hitting like sucker punches straight to the ribs. a 61 in econ. 58 in calc. a humiliating 43 in the upper-division statistics course you had only signed up for because your advisor swore up and down you’d “do fine” if you just showed up, paid attention, and did the work. of course, nobody told you how hard it’d be to do the work when school felt like breaking your brain with each passing week.

and sure, it wasn’t entirely your fault you were in this now completely catastrophic mess. life happened. you were busy. sooo busy.

tests piled up, papers came due, and before you knew it, the semester had gotten away from you. one skipped lecture turned into two, and then three, because the hangover was too heavy, or you woke up too late, or maybe skipping just became easier than showing up and realizing you still didn’t fucking get it.

your friends didn’t seem to have a problem with it though. in fact, they seemed to be doing just fine, sitting pretty with half the stress you carried while partying with twice the energy. it was infuriating.

how did these trust fund, name-dropping, parents-pay-everything-for-me types just breeze their way through life while you clawed and struggled and stressed for every single second of yours?

“just don’t think about it,” they’d say when you worried aloud about your scholarship.

“take a mental health day. or week. you deserve it!”

“a curve will carry you through like always.”

but that curve was not saving your ass this time, and honestly, the guilt of falling so far behind wasn’t even the worst part.

the worst part was knowing you were the one who let it happen.

there wasn’t anyone else to pin this on, no scapegoat for the party invites you shouldn’t have accepted or the nights out you couldn’t say no to because it’d look bad to disappear. you’d just… kept up.

and things were fun— exciting, even— until they weren’t. until you realized just how hard you were sinking.

and now here you were; failing half your classes, barely passing the others, one more missed lecture away from kissing your scholarship goodbye. and you didn’t even have anyone to turn to for help.

the people you called “friends,” those picture-perfect girls with weekly blowouts paid on daddy’s card and those polished guys with frat pins and parents on donor lists— weren’t actually your friends.

because now that you needed something? now that you were desperate for someone to swoop in and save you from drowning? they only had half-hearted excuses to offer you.

“sorry, babe, we’re swamped with group projects,” one girl had said while sipping an overpriced matcha latte you knew for a fact her roommate paid for.

“dude, just hit up someone in your class. you’ll figure it out,” one guy shrugged, adjusting his collar on what was clearly a brand-new polo shirt for his friday night out.

every excuse only added to the dull ache in your chest.

so maybe they weren’t your friends, not really. maybe they just liked the version of you who didn’t ask for anything, the one who could keep up, who looked shiny and fun and confident all the time.

now, all you had to show for was a rapidly deteriorating GPA, an inbox of ignored emails from professors, a terrifyingly close “academic warning” notice, and a desperate gamble hanging on a thin thread of possibility.

and that gamble was chan.

you didn’t actually know much about him beyond his name, just that he seemed way too hot to be stuck explaining complex theories to freshmen and that he was ridiculously good at his job as a TA for your statistics course.

almost too good.

you sat in the back most of the time, quietly zoning out while he spoke about office hours or went over practice examples that looked more like hieroglyphics to you than math. sometimes you’d stare down blankly at your notebook, pretending to write, just so he wouldn’t call on you.

but now, you didn’t really have a choice anymore, did you?

you were cornered— trapped, honestly— with the weight of your failing grades pressing down on you so hard that it felt like it’d snap your spine in half. chan was your only chance to fix this, and there wasn’t any guarantee he’d even agree to help you.

as far as you could tell from the few glances— okay, stares— you’d snuck during class or the rare moments you did try to pay attention, chan wasn’t the kind of guy who did anyone favors for free. he was helpful, sure. ridiculously patient, disgustingly smart, but distant in this professional, untouchable way that felt more intimidating than approachable.

which sucked because he was so insanely good-looking it made your stomach twist everytime you saw him.

like how was that even fair? how did someone with a full schedule of grading papers and breaking down theorems for struggling students still look like that?

it wasn’t just the obvious things, either, like his jawline being sharp enough to slice through a brick wall or the way his hair always sat perfectly, even if it looked like he’d run his hands through it a million times. or the broad shoulders that strained against his button-ups, the way the rolled up sleeves gave a front-row view of his inked forearms when he turned to write on the board, he’d done that on purpose, you were sure of it.

no, it was deeper than that. something about him just… oozed authority. he had this natural confidence, this charm that made every interaction feel intentional, sharpened by polite smirks and these piercingly knowing looks that made you feel like he could see straight through you.

and that was terrifying.

you weren’t exactly one to shy away from attention. hell, you practically craved it on most days, but the idea of being in the same room as chan, let alone putting yourself at his mercy by asking for a favor this big? it put knots in your stomach.

to be fair, it wasn’t just how hot he was or how sharp his tone could get if someone asked an obviously stupid question. it was the fact that you knew— you knew— he’d seen you at your worst.

because, let’s face it, you weren’t exactly subtle. it wasn’t hard to notice the girl stumbling into class ten minutes late with one hand clutching a coffee she clearly didn’t need and the other hand trying to smooth yesterday’s mascara out from under her eyes. or the girl who’d roll her eyes during presentations, whispering sarcastic comments to her desk mate only to fail her own turn at the podium because she hadn’t read the material.

you saw it in the way his eyes flicked over you sometimes— brief, appraising glances, like he was clocking all the things you were doing wrong but didn’t have the energy to care. and that made asking for his help… well, humiliating wasn’t even the right word.

but when you thought of all your options, or lack thereof, it was clear. chan was your only shot.

which leads you to now, racing down the hallway outside his office hours, totally unprepared and already out of breath just thinking about how this might go.

your sneakers squeaked against the tiled floor as you skidded to a halt in front of his office door, heart hammering out an uneven rhythm.

what were you even supposed to say? “hi, sorry for being the laziest, least deserving person ever, but can you please do me a favor and save my entire academic career ??”

your reflection wobbled in the slim window beside the door, your hair’s slightly disarray, and your tote bag’s slipping off one shoulder. the image made something bitter crawl up the back of your throat.

you didn’t even look like the kind of student chan would want to help. no pressed chinos or perfectly highlighted notes. you didn’t smell like coffee and effort; you smelled like nerves and desperation.

but fuck it. this was life or death.

your knuckles rapped against the wood once, then twice, before your hand fell limply at your side. god, your heart was racing.

“come in.” his voice rang out from the other side, clipped and smooth, familiar to the point where your knees almost gave out. there wasn’t a single part of you that felt ready for this.

steeling yourself with one last breath, you pushed open the door and stepped inside.

chan was at his desk, pen in hand, leaning over a stack of papers with that laser sharp focus that made you question if he was actually human. his glasses sat neatly in place, silver-framed and faintly reflecting the soft overhead light above him. it wasn’t until you had shyly cleared your throat that his eyes finally flicked up to meet yours. they were unreadable, scanning over you, down to your bag and back up again, before settling on your face.

“need something?” he asked, leaning back in his chair slightly.

this was it. do or die.

you tried not to let your voice tremble too much as you spoke. “hi, uh- hi, chan. do you have a minute? it’s about my grades.”

there was a pause, half a second that felt more like half an hour, before the smallest flicker of amusement crossed his lips.

“i figured.”

just two words, said so lightly they could’ve meant nothing, but they were enough to make your stomach curdle. you wrung your hands together in front of you, shifting slightly under the sheer weight of his gaze as he gestured for you to sit.

“go ahead,” he said, resting his chin in his palm now, pen dangling lazily between his fingers. his tone stayed polite, but there was something about the way his eyes followed you as you sank into the chair. “tell me what’s going on.”

fuck. where did you even start?

you swallowed hard, your throat suddenly feeling bone dry as you stared back at him. chan’s gaze was pointed, measured, like he wasn’t just listening— he was assessing. waiting, with those sharp brown eyes unblinking, his full attention zeroing in on you in a way that was making it near impossible to concentrate.

this was already a disaster…

“well, um,” you began, your fingers nervously twisting the strap of your bag as you attempted (and failed) to keep your voice level. there was something annoyingly self-assured about the way he sat there, looking completely relaxed while your nerves threatened to devour you alive.

“i’ve been struggling with the coursework,” you said, your tone more apologetic than you wanted it to be. “like, a lot. stats isn’t really coming easy to me, and i guess i.. fell behind.”

he hummed softly, as if that didn’t surprise him one bit.

the sound made your stomach twist uncomfortably.

“i know it’s my fault,” you blurted out, tightening your grip on your bag’s strap like it’ll stop the word vomit. “i’ve been really busy, too busy, honestly, and i know i didn’t prioritize things the way i should have, but i swear, i’m not usually this bad—”

“how bad?” chan interrupted coolly.

you blinked, your voice freezing in your throat.

he quirked an eyebrow and tilted his head slightly, a gesture so calm, so subtle, and yet it sent a wave of dread rolling through your chest anyway.

“your grades,” he clarified, tone light and casual, the pen absently swaying between his fingers as if he wasn’t deliberately making you squirm. “how bad are we talking here?”

“uh…” you hesitated, swallowing again as the words caught on the lump in your throat. there really wasn’t a more humiliating way to admit this, so you just… ripped the bandaid off.

“failing,” you confessed. “like, actually failing.”

if chan was surprised, he didn’t show it. he didn’t do anything, really— except lean back further in his chair and once again let that infuriating, unreadable expression sit on his face.

“right,” he said slowly, dragging the word out as his eyes flitted down to his desk.

right.

the way he said it— low, simple, dismissive— was somehow worse than if he’d said nothing at all.

your cheeks flushed with heat as you continued feebly, trying to fill the silence stretching between you. “but, um, i can fix it! i’m not- i’m not hopeless or anything, and if there’s any sort of grade curve, i can—”

“you’re not getting a curve,” he said bluntly, cutting you off.

your heart sank somewhere into the pit of your stomach.

the words hit you like a brick to the face— not cruelly, and not even softly, just… so matter-of-fact, almost like he hadn’t even registered your desperation.

“oh,” you said lamely, voice wavering.

for a moment, it felt like the shame might actually swallow you whole.

you couldn’t bear to look at him now, but you felt his eyes narrow on you anyway— burning a hole through you as every ounce of resolve you’d built for this conversation unraveled bit by bit. this is what you’d been afraid of, wasn’t it? being dismissed. getting rejected so fast he wouldn’t even finish hearing you out.

“but,” chan said after the pause had lingered just a second too long, “if you’re serious about getting your grades up, maybe there’s something we can do.”

your head shot up so fast you felt lightheaded.

“r-really?” you stammered, your eyes wide and hopeful.

for the first time, his lips turned upward into a sly smirk— a barely-there expression that might’ve seemed harmless if his eyes didn’t gleam the way they did alongside it.

“sure,” he said simply, leaning forward now to rest his elbows on the desk between you. “come to my next office hours, and we’ll see how serious you actually are.”

office hours. simple enough, you thought.

except… the way he said it didn’t exactly feelsimple.

there was this weight behind the words, an implication you didn’t quite have the nerve (or the clarity) to fully dissect.

“okay,” you said quickly, trying to hide how much of a mess you already were.

chan reached for his notepad then, flipping it open before scribbling something down. you didn’t think you were looking particularly hard at his hands or his forearms, but the way the sleeve of his button-up pulled tight around his arm certainly made it hard not to notice.

“you’ll need help catching up. this isn’t something you can fix overnight,” he began, his voice returning to that smooth, professional tone that simultaneously put you on edge and made your chest feel unreasonably tight. “stats takes focus, effort, attention. it’s not something you can bullshit your way through.”

“i know,” you murmured, feeling small under the lecture but nodding eagerly anyway. “i will. i’m- i’ll focus, i promise.”

he didn’t answer, but the faintest hint of amusement returned to his face when he tore out the slip of paper and handed it across the desk.

a phone number.

his phone number.

“what’s this for?” you asked curiously, blinking up at him.

“so i can send you the address.”

your heart stuttered. “uh… address for what?”

he leaned back in his chair again. “you’ll come to my place next week,” chan said, still calm, but there was a heaviness in his tone you couldn’t miss. “that way, you can get the help you actually need, without all the distractions.”

there was something unreasonably intimate about the idea— you couldn’t even imagine slipping into his orbit here without losing your composure, and now he wanted you to see him in his space?

another knot twisted violently in your stomach.

he must’ve noticed the hesitation creeping into your face because the smirk tilted downward briefly, replaced with something oddly serious instead.

“you do want to get a passing grade, don’t you?”

his question made your lips part uselessly. “y-yeah. of course!”

“then i’ll see you there,” he said plainly, with an air of finality that left you no room to argue even if you’d wanted to.

you clutched the small slip of paper tightly between your fingers as the weight of his expectations, and his presence, stuck to your skin like damp heat.

and when you left that night, your own nerves clinging to you like static, one thing was painfully clear.

you had no idea what you were getting yourself into.

+

waking up five hours ahead of schedule should’ve been the first sign that today was going to feel completely off.

in fact, the entire day felt like one long, slow burn nightmare that had started from the moment your eyes shot open at 4 am and never quite recovered. with each passing minute, the reality of what you were about to do crept closer, sitting heavier and heavier in your chest.

you were going to chan’s… apartment. alone. to study. nothing else, obviously. just a completely normal… consensual… totally academic tutoring session with quite possibly the hottest man you’d ever laid eyes on.

so what if his arms were covered in tattoos you wanted to lick the outlines of? or if the memory of his sharp smirk from office hours was burned so deeply into your brain that even your shower thoughts felt unholy?

it wasn’t like anything was going to happen.

still, you couldn’t stop the way your whole body buzzed with nerves as you left your apartment that afternoon.

you’d spent way too much time debating what to wear— going through a tornado of outfits in your tiny room until your bed was buried in every top and pair of jeans you owned. you finally settled on something that you hoped gave, oh, this? i just threw it on! what, no, of course i don’t care that deeply about your opinion of me, even if the truth was written all over your mistake-proof eyeliner and the lingering scent of vanilla perfume on your wrists.

as a last minute, desperate attempt to soften him up, you stopped by a bakery near campus to grab some cheesecake slices. they were way too expensive for your crumbling student budget, but you figured they might do a little to save your poor, failing ass if your consistent eye twitch didn’t already scream pathetic gratitude. it was as much a bribe as it was a peace offering. you were about to invade his personal space, after all.

when you got to his building, you were a goddamn wreck.

your hands were clammy against the handle of the bakery box, your stomach twisting into violent knots as you rode the elevator to his floor. when the doors slid open, the reality of the situation hit you all over again; chan had only agreed to this because you were failing.

it wasn’t because he liked you, or thought you were special, or that he wanted to spend any alone time with you, despite every wildly horny fantasy your brain had conjured over the weekend. no, you were here because you were barely passing, and whatever mercy he was giving you came with conditions.

he’s seen it all, you reminded yourself. heard it all. probably helped a million people like you. don’t think you’re anything special, idiot.

your hands shook slightly as you reached his door, and after a brief moment of hesitation, you knocked.

the sound echoed back sharply, filling the silence of the hallway like a bomb ticking down the seconds. you almost bolted on the spot before you heard the faint shuffle on the other side, quick footsteps, the sound of the lock turning— and then, there he was.

chan leaned against the edge of the doorframe, his hand rested casually on the knob as his eyes danced over you in an entirely neutral expression. no glasses today, you noted immediately, your stomach sinking at how irritatingly attractive that somehow made him.

“you’re on time,” he remarked, his voice warm, but lightly amused.

your brain tripped over itself like it was your first time understanding words. “oh- yeah. of course! i didn’t want to, uh, keep you waiting.”

...an embarrassing response. great start.

chan’s mouth quirked, faint but noticeable as he stepped to the side to let you in.

“come in. shoes off right there,” he instructed, gesturing toward the neatly lined space by the door.

you followed silently, fully aware of every movement you made as you tugged your sneakers off and balanced them into place. if your nerves hadn’t already clocked out from overuse, your next observation would’ve totally knocked you out:

his place was spotless.

you weren’t entirely sure what you’d been expecting, but “clean freak” definitely wasn’t on the list. chan’s apartment was airy, quiet, and— dare you say— insultingly immaculate.

there wasn’t a single stray sock, not a speck of dust, no sink of dishes, or tangled wires ruining your line of sight to his bookshelves and minimalist decor. every inch of the space reeked of effortless organization, right down to the softly folded blanket on the couch and the perfectly centered pack of coasters on the coffee table.

it made your mess of an apartment seem downright feral by comparison.

“cute shoes,” he said airily from the kitchen, snapping your attention back to him as he leaned briefly into the fridge.

you blinked. “what?”

he nodded toward where you’d set your sneakers by the door. “your shoes, makes me think of those cheesy cartoon outfits. the ones with stars or glitter or something. kinda fun.”

you weren’t sure if that was meant to be an insult or a compliment, so you went with the safest option. “uh, thanks?”

chan’s faint smirk returned, but just as quickly as it flickered across his face, he tilted his head toward the counter expectantly.

“what’s that?” he asked.

“oh!” you moved quickly to the kitchen, thrusting the bakery box slightly forward in your hands. “i brought these for you! uh, it’s just some pastries- cheesecake slices, actually. i thought they might…” you trailed off, your words jumbling under the weight of his sharp gaze. “you know. be, um, nice. like, as a thank you or something. for helping me.”

you swore his smirk softened into something closer to a genuine grin, but you couldn’t be sure when it disappeared so quickly after.

"you didn’t have to do that,” he said, sliding the box easily from your hands.

“i know, but…” you shrugged weakly. “i just wanted to.”

he didn’t respond, his fingers deftly undoing the box lid before plucking one of the cheesecakes out. the sight felt unreasonably intimate, his hand brushing faint crumbs from the edge of the slice, the subtle twitch of his jaw as he took a bite and let the flavor settle.

“these are good,” he muttered, nodding slightly to himself. “thanks.”

you couldn’t tell if it was your heart that skipped or the entirety of your respiratory system.

+

things started out normal enough— or, at least, as normal as they could be considering who you were talking to and where you were.

after clearing space at his kitchen table, chan brought over your textbook and a loose stack of papers, pen already twirling idly between his fingers as his other hand tugged his chair close enough to yours that your collective elbows almost touched.

you were pretty sure your breathing hadn’t returned to normal for the past twenty minutes. you were hyper-aware of everything. the smooth tone of his voice when he walked you through a concept, the subtle tilt of his head when he waited for your response, the faint drag of his cologne hanging in the air when he leaned just marginally closer to explain something written on the page.

and worse, you were hyper-aware of yourself— your knees glued together without even trying, the way you were actively avoiding looking at his jaw when he spoke lest your brain run headfirst into the gutter.

“you’re staring,” his voice broke through your thought spiral.

shit.

“what?” you said a little too quickly.

“the page,” he clarified, and the corner of his mouth tugged upward knowingly as he glanced between your face and the textbook. “you’ve been staring at it without writing for at least five minutes. you good, or am i wasting my time here?”

heat crawled its way onto your cheeks as you scrambled to collect yourself. “no- no! you’re not wasting your time! sorry, i just—”

“got distracted?”

you hesitated, wetting your lips.

chan’s eyes dragged toward your neck for half a second before refocusing on your face.

“uh… yeah,” you murmured, staring pointedly at the page.

for a few tense beats, you felt like he might call you out for it.

but instead, he just leaned back slightly, pen tapping once against the edge of the table.

“then get back on track,” he said firmly, his gaze somehow impassive and heavy all at once.

sure, you thought bitterly to yourself. easier said than done... when the guy helping you has literal pornstar hands.

chan’s voice cuts through your thoughts once again, a faint edge to it this time that told you he wasn’t exactly sold on the idea that you weren’t wasting his time here. “you sure you’re ready for this?” he asked, tapping your mostly blank notebook with the end of his pen.

you blinked out of your haze and nodded way too quickly. “yeah. totally ready. so ready.”

you absolutely, 100%, did not feel ready. not when you were currently dangling a very loose grip on your academic salvation— and yout raging hormones— and failing at both. yet somehow chan managed to keep his composure as if this wasn’t a complete minefield of professional boundaries.

meanwhile, you were over here sweating bullets.

“alright,” he said, leaning forward again, his broad shoulders casually brushing against yours. if he noticed the way you stiffened, he didn’t say anything. “let’s start simple… p-value hypothesis testing. what’s the first step?”

you stared at the page. your brain immediately short circuited.

what’s a p-value, again? what was anything?

chan waited a single beat, then sighed softly, setting his pen down. “you… don’t know the first step, do you?”

oh god. here it came. the humiliation. the “i knew it” look. maybe even a quiet dismissal to wrap things up early before sending you sliding further into a deeper pit of failure.

you started to stammer out some sort of excuse (“oh, i studied this, i promise- okay, maybe not entirely, but i—”), but chan tilted his head and spoke before you could spiral completely.

“it’s fine if you don’t,” he said casually, folding his arms on the table. “that’s why you’re here, right? because you don’t know it yet. the whole point is to fix that.”

you froze.

his tone was impossibly calm, but something beneath it made your breath hitch. if you didn’t know any better, you’d almost call the sharpness soothing.

“right,” you muttered, shrinking a little further. “my bad. let’s…start again.”

chan gave a faint dimpled look as he leaned over the page and grabbed your pen. the pen you were holding. his hand accidentally brushed yours in the process, skin startlingly warm where it touched you. you nearly yelped.

“relax,” he said, not unkindly. “no one’s grading you here, except me.”

unfortunately for you, that felt so much worse..

+

after nearly an hour with his voice calmly talking you through samples, datasets, and linear regression analysis (all concepts that still felt vaguely indistinguishable from alien geometry), you’d somehow managed to make marginal progress— and chan had seemingly noticed.

“see? not bad,” he remarked as he glanced over your most recent set of notes, his eyebrows raising slightly. your handwriting was a little cleaner now, still a chaotic scrawl, but at least things looked almost organized. “you’ve got a handle on it.”

your chest filled with unexpected relief at his words. “you mean i’m not… a complete disaster?”

chan shrugged, brushing his hands over the table before shooting you a teasing grin. “i wouldn’t say that. you’re still a mess.”

you gawked at him. “seriously?”

“but,” he added, “you’re trying. i’ll give you that.”

you weren’t sure whether to hide your face or laugh until you cried, so you settled for rolling your eyes instead. his grin only deepened.

god, why did he have to look so good when he was being insufferable?

you glanced toward the books spread across the table, half a dozen equations and diagrams still staring back at you, and exhaled, hoping the knot in your chest would loosen. it didn’t. of course it didn’t.

the truth was, your nerves hadn’t settled once since you walked through his door. it wasn’t just the teasing remarks or the way he seemed to dig effortlessly under your skin with every perfectly timed knowing glance. it was the way he felt.

chan had this aura about him.

commanding, without shouting. stern, but not cruel. you couldn’t help but want to throw yourself at his feet and say, yes, i’ll sit here and listen for hours if it makes you keep talking. please don’t stop talking.

and okay, that was probably not the best train of thought to have while sitting in front of the TA who controlled your grades. but still.

you were trying.

when the session finally came to an end, you shuffled awkwardly as chan walked you back toward the door, your tote bag once again slung over your shoulder.

“thanks for… all of that,” you started, uncomfortably aware of how clammy your hands felt as they smoothed over the strap. “i know it’s not easy to deal with a failing, uh, wreck of a human being, but—”

“you’re not a wreck,” chan interrupted, his hand pausing briefly on the doorknob as he turned to face you. something in his tone was softer, not as sharp as usual, but still steady enough to stop the flow of your words dead in their tracks.

“…i mean,” you mumbled dumbly, unable to recover from the unexpected crack in his voice.

“i’ve had students who don’t try at all,” he continued, resting his shoulder casually against the door. “they show up late, make excuses, push everything onto someone else. but you’re here. you’re trying. that counts for more than you think.”

your brain did at least three flips and a cartwheel.

“oh,” you said after a beat, staring blankly. “thanks?”

chan’s smile this time was faint, but genuine— and it fucking killed you.

“tuesday next week,” he said casually, pulling the door open before looking you over again. “same time.”

you nodded quickly, trying to ignore how the way he was standing, leaning coolly into the doorway, made his dress shirt stretch just enough to outline the definition beneath his forearms— and goddamn it, your brain needed to stop looking for reasons to self-destruct in real time.

“got it,” you replied finally, your voice cracking slightly. “tuesday. next week. your place.”

for one horrible, beat-worthy moment, chan raised his eyebrows at how awkwardly you repeated the words. his lips tilted faintly, that same painstakingly neutral expression etched onto his face again before he glanced to the side.

“good,” he said, brushing his fingers casually through his blond hair. “don’t be late this time.”

you nodded far too quickly as you stepped into the hallway, your breath caught somewhere deep in your chest and refusing to let go until he gave you a final, two-fingered wave and shut the door behind you.

and as you made your way down the hall, heart still pounding, all you could think was:

there’s no way you’ll survive another week alone with him, is there?

+

if anyone had told you that this was how your semester would go— teetering dangerously between educational burnout and a full blown crisis of unhinged attraction— you wouldn’t have believed them.

then again, you also wouldn’t have believed that chan, your hot-as-hell statistics TA (who was only supposed to exist in the corner of your eye as some mildly inappropriate distraction during lecture), would be giving you one-on-one “study help” in his fucking apartment of all places.

honestly, the past week was starting to make your head spin. it wasn’t just the fact that you’d had two entire hours of uninterrupted, semi-casual conversation with him at his place. it was… everything else.

like how every once in a while now, when you passed him on campus, chan would send you this faint, almost smirk-like smile. just enough to acknowledge you in passing— a reminder that he noticed you, remembered you.

and everytime it happened, your stomach would twist.

the good twist. the kind that left an annoying ache inside you and made your face hot for the entirety of your next class.

chan, for his part, was impossible to read. professionally calm, unfailing in his confidence and aloofness, like every interaction he’d ever had with anyone was just another detail to tuck neatly into his increasingly unbothered day.

sometimes, it caught you off guard how unfazed he was, how precise every movement and word that fell from his lips seemed to be. but then there were little cracks. moments when he’d lean just a little too close, brush his hand against yours, or hold your gaze for just a second too long before looking away.

sometimes you wondered if he even noticed he was doing it, but then, there was a darker part of you, the louder part, that wondered if he was doing it on purpose.

if maybe, just maybe, those brief pauses in his movements carried a bit more weight. if maybe they whispered hints of curiosity, intrigue… or something else entirely.

by the time tuesday rolled around, you’d convinced yourself that your life was one endless spiral of humiliation and implosion.

because the mortifying truth was that, consciously or not, your behavior had become downright pathetic lately.

you’d spent hours agonizing over what to wear to your next session with him. subtle. casual. blank canvas vibes. but… you were also a living, breathing person with a functioning set of eyes and weekly terrible thoughts about chan in compromising positions, so— subtlety didn’t last very long.

instead, only twenty minutes before you were set to leave, you’d swapped out your first two outfits for something else entirely; something tight enough to be dangerous, just low-cut enough to hint without outright show.

effortless, you told yourself in the mirror, even though the amount of effort it took for you to tear your eyes away from your own cleavage was anything but subtle. he won’t even notice!

(spoiler: he noticed.)

and, of course, chan— being chan— acted completely immune.

when he opened the door for you this time, his expression barely shifted, except for a quick glance down at you, his gaze lingering for half a second before he looked away entirely.

“hey,” was all he said. and just like that, you were sweating out of places you didn’t even know could sweat.

you followed him inside like you were walking toward your fucking demise.

the studying itself started as normal, or as normal as it could get when your brain was currently tied up in your own delusions.

chan had cleared the table again, leaning back in his chair with the kind of effortless authority you couldn’t stop staring at even if you wanted to.

“you’re on your own for the first one,” he said simply, sliding a freshly written-out problem set across the table toward you. “show me how you’d do it. no help this time.”

on your own. fucking great.

you nodded quickly, eager, but mostly terrified to disappoint him— and immediately grabbed your pen.

his eyes scraped over your page as you worked, his chin resting against his palm in casual appraisal, until finally glancing over somewhere else. probably the wall or the clock or literally anything but you.

but you… couldn’t stop stealing glances at him.

and it was bad.

unhinged, honestly.

your brain was preoccupied with all the places it shouldn’t have been; his shirt pushed up slightly against his forearms again, revealing more of the ink you’d spent days mentally mapping out from last week’s memories. his brows furrowed faintly with concentration. the way his tongue brushed lightly over his lower lip when he leaned forward slightly to grab—

focus, you remind yourself harshly. seriously, shut the hell up. you’re failing.

...except focusing on him was exactly the problem.

by the time you finished the initial review process, you’d written so many questionable numbers that it almost felt embarrassing to show him the work.

“done already?” he asked, his voice pulling your head up.

“uh,” you said dumbly, sliding the notebook toward him far too quickly. “yeah! kind of.”

chan gave you a blank look, but it softened faintly as he flipped through each line of your work, his mouth twitching slightly with what you couldn’t decide was approval or disappointment.

"well, this part’s definitely wrong,” he said lightly, tapping the edge of your paper. “but at least you got one variable right this time. better than last week.”

a laugh bubbled up your throat before you processed it.

chan flicked his gaze back toward you briefly at the sound, his head tilting faintly.

somehow, the tension in your stomach tightened further.

+

it had only been an hour when things started to spiral.

chan leaned forward to clarify yet another equation you’d totally botched halfway through explaining. the subtle movement made your nerves hit their absolute limit, and suddenly, you couldn’t process a single thing he was saying anymore.

you nodded silently, robotically, as he pointed something out, but the tension had grown so unbearably tight that it felt like your body might snap in half if you didn’t get away for at least two seconds.

“uh, do you mind if i use your bathroom?” you blurted out suddenly, your chair scraping against the floor.

chan lifted an eyebrow but offered no resistance. “sure,” he said easily. “second door on the right.”

you slammed the door shut a little quicker than necessary, chest heaving out a conflicted breath as you caught your reflection in the mirror above his sink.

what were you doing?

you hunched forward slightly, your arms gripping the edges of the counter as your eyes scanned your flushed cheeks and slightly blown-out pupils.

this was insane.

you were really about to self-destruct in front of your TA.

taking shallow, forceful breaths, you tried again to reel in what little sense of self you had left.

it wasn’t just that chan was too good-looking for anyone’s health. it was his sharpness, his confidence— his way of seamlessly controlling the room with the smallest tilt of his chin and the faint, lingering bite of his words.

you weren’t just down bad. you were down atrocious.

your gaze drifted toward the sink while you mentally berated yourself over all the reasons this was so beyond inappropriate.

but instead, your eyes caught something else. an unfamiliar flash of color resting near the corner of the counter: a small, unopened box near the toiletries tray.

...a fucking box of condoms.

you blinked at it blankly for half a second before you stiffened in place with realization.

brand new. pristine. unopened. untouched.

what the hell???

a million questions ricocheted through your head all at once, loud and unbearably intrusive.

did he have a girlfriend? did someone bring these over for him? was he just… that prepared?

your face burned fiercely, the ridiculous line of thought spiraling deep enough to make you lightheaded.

if he was seeing someone, then why was the box unopened? and why, why, were you even dissecting this to begin with, as if it mattered in the first place?

you never had a chance anyway, your brain helpfully supplied. you knew it the second you walked into his office for help.

you didn’t know how long you spent in the bathroom, fuming quietly at the mirror and trying to sweat out the flood of shame that was now taking up every corner of your mind.

chan didn’t say anything when you came back.

but the way his gaze trailed over your face briefly— sharp, appraising, uncomfortably still— made you wonder if he could sense it.

worse, the hum of his voice when he asked if you were ready to start again almost sounded amused.

but no, there was no way.

you nodded numbly, sitting back down as the spiral of your thoughts continued to eat at you little by little.

but then.

chan leaned forward again.

this time— too close.

close enough that his hands briefly brushed over yours as you reached to grab your pen, the low murmur of breath at your ear turned something in your chest completely upside down.

“focus,” he said softly, lips barely tilting upward as his fingers tipped briefly over your notebook.

you stared— stunned, entirely flickered into stasis for just a split half second of hesitation.

the air in chan’s apartment felt so much thicker now, way too humid, like something you could taste if you stayed still long enough.

to your credit, you were trying to focus. really, you were.

but focus didn’t come easy when your TA— your stupidly hot, smart, sharp-tongued TA— was sitting across from you with that faint smirk curling on his lips, watching you too closely like he’d figured you out already.

maybe he had.

“so,” chan murmured, snapping you out of your reverie as he slumped ever so slightly further into his chair. you tried your hardest not to track the way his toned thighs stretched against the fabric of his joggers. “you’ve got two choices.”

“two?” you asked breathlessly, blinking way too fast to feel normal.

he tilted his chin slightly, fingers tapping idly against the table.

“either you tell me why you’ve been sitting there not even pretending to pay attention for the last twenty minutes,” he started smoothly, “or we call it a day, and i can stop wasting my time.”

you bit the inside of your cheek to keep from squirming.

that was new.

this wasn’t the calm, teasing chan from the first session. he didn’t even sound annoyed exactly, but there was an edge to his tone now, sharp and slow and cutting enough that you felt trapped.

“i’m- i was paying attention,” you blurted, a little too defensive to sound convincing.

his narrowed gaze told you exactly what he thought about that.

“you sure about that?” he asked, leaning forward now.

“yeah,” you mumbled, voice faltering slightly as he came impossibly close.

his lips curved sharply.

“prove it.”

the blush reached your ears faster than your brain could process what was happening. “prove it?” you repeated dumbly, as though the words had somehow dropped straight in from another dimension.

“mm,” chan hummed lightly, elbows digging into the edge of the table. the sheer confidence radiating from him was unnerving, not over the top, not cocky, but entirely in control.

he tipped his head toward your notebook, his forearms briefly flexing as he gestured for you to pick up the damned pen.

“last equation,” he murmured, and you swore the way his voice dropped made your heart skip a beat. “show me you’ve been paying attention this time.”

unfortunately, there were several factors actively working against you right now.

the first? chan, with his sharp voice and sharper smirk, was close enough to radiate heat, close enough that your knees brushed lightly under the table. the second? there was no fucking way you’d been paying enough attention to actually solve the equation in front of you.

your chest grew tighter by the second as you scrambled uselessly to make sense of it.

for a brief moment, he said nothing— just watched you with this lazy, barely interested gaze, his lips pressed into an almost-smile that you couldn’t read.

“c’mon,” he drawled finally. “you’ve got this, don’t you?”

the edge of his words made your stomach twist with heat.

surely, he didn’t mean… more than what he was saying, right?

you scribbled down the page as best as you could, desperate and embarrassed as you tried to scrawl out whatever guess felt the least wrong.

but before you could even feign confidence over the partial answer you’d written, a hand abruptly darted into your line of vision.

his hand.

chan’s fingers curled over the edge of your workbook as he slid it back toward himself, “wrong.”

your heart plummeted straight into your stomach.

of course it was fucking wrong.

you braced yourself for the usual disappointment or sharp remark. but instead of belittling your work, chan leaned forward again, folding his arms onto the table between you and leaving no room for you to escape his focus.

then, voice low and deliberate, he caught your gaze fully.

“you don’t even try to hide it anymore, do you?”

you froze. your face immediately burned. “what?”

“you’re not here to study,” he said plainly.

your jaw opened and closed uselessly, and you swore your heart was trying to make an escape straight through your ribs.

“you wear this,” chan murmured, his eyes flicking briefly, heatedly, down to the neckline of your fitted top before locking back on yours, “and you expect me not to notice?”

his words sent a wildfire tearing through your entire body.

you struggled to make sense of it all, to explain yourself, to breathe.

he noticed.

this smoking-hot TA, whom you’d been quietly (okay, maybe not so quietly) pining after, noticed. but he didn’t stop there.

chan leaned in further, the confidence practically rolling off of him, and softened his voice even more.

“you’ve got guts, throwing yourself at your TA like this.”

your entire head was a whirlwind of heat and adrenaline.

chan leaned back in his chair for a moment, still studying you like you were an equation he’d already solved in his head.

the glint in his eye left you pinned in place— and you weren’t sure if it was fear or thrill racing through you when he tilted his head.

“get up.”

you blinked hard. “...what?”

“get up,” chan repeated, his tone leaving no room for debate this time.

your legs moved before your brain could catch up, your heart racing wildly as you stood in front of him like it’d been his implicit command all along.

“do you want to keep wasting my time?” he asked, his head tilting slightly, his eyes burning into you like they were stripping you bare.

“n-no,” you stammered.

“then prove it,” he said with maddening calm. his voice was low but full with that commanding edge that kept sending waves of heat to your core.

you opened your mouth uncertainly, but before you could respond, his gaze dropped, gesturing down toward his lap.

and fuck, if that didn’t make your entire foundation shift.

the stretch of his thighs, the bulge visible against the gray of his joggers, the way his legs flexed as he spread them slightly farther apart.

your mouth went dry.

he noticed.

your face burned brighter than ever, your brain scrambling for some rational excuse to back away, but when chan raised an eyebrow at you again, the composure you were grasping at crumbled entirely.

“get on your knees,” he ordered softly.

you were moving before you could think— sinking to the floor, legs folding beneath you as your breaths came out shaky and uneven.

chan wasted no time once you dropped.

“so eager,” he muttered, leaning forward slightly to slip off his sweats. the faint tug of a smirk played on his lips again. “bet you’ve been thinking about this for weeks, huh?”

you swallowed, lips parting slightly as your eyes stayed glued to him.

“let’s see if that mouth is as good as i think it is, then.”

chan spread his legs wider, his joggers now halfway down as his thick cock strained hard under the fabric of his boxers, the outline of it clear enough to make your mouth water.

your eyes tracked the movement as his large hand casually palmed himself through the fabric, letting out a soft grunt as the pressure of his hand teased a bit of relief. he wasn’t even looking at you— his gaze was tilted lazily downward, like he was letting you take in the view. like he wanted you to be as desperate as you clearly were.

“you’re really something, you know,” he muttered, low and taunting, the air between you so tense you could barely breathe. “acting all shy, pretending you’ve been here to study. but this—” his hand rolled against himself once more, squeezing as he finally dragged his eyes back to yours. “this is what you’ve been wanting, huh?”

you couldn’t even think about lying. you just nodded, staying seated on your knees. “...yes.”

that brought another smirk to his lips, one that only deepened as he started to slip his boxers down, letting his cock spring free.

fuck. you’d expected him to be big because, well… of course he was. everything about him was big. his confidence, his presence, his personality. but knowing it and seeing it were two entirely different things.

he was thick, the head a flushed pink and leaking with so much pre that it glistened just faintly in the low kitchen light.

“eyes up here, sweetheart.”

your gaze snapped up immediately, and his mouth twitched again as he caught you.

“if you wanna use that mouth,” he murmured, tone rougher now, “you’re gonna have to ask nicely.”

you weren’t even sure how you were still alive at this point, let alone speaking, but the words stumbled out anyway in a breathless jumble of need.

“please,” you begged, barely above a whisper. “please. i wanna—” your breath hitched as his cock twitched when you said it, making your chest blaze with heat. “i wanna suck your cock, chan. please.”

he tilted his head, watching you closely for a few suffocating seconds before leaning back in his seat and resting one arm lazily along the table.

“go ahead,” he said finally. “show me what you’ve got.”

you didn’t need to be told twice. your hands shot up, tentative at first, but steadying as your fingers curled around the base of his length. the warmth of his skin and the weight of his cock in your hand made you fucking lightheaded.

you gave him a few experimental strokes, and the faint grunt he let out— mild as it was— felt like a goddamn reward.

“that’s it,” he muttered, almost absent-minded, like he was observing you while thinking a million other things at the same time. “don’t be shy now.”

you ducked your head down, tongue darting out to swipe the bead of pre-cum glistening at his tip. just that one tiny taste had your body heating up everywhere at once, floating deliriously between desperation and excitement as you opened your mouth further to glide him in.

he groaned softly as your lips stretched around him, his other hand coming up to rest lightly at the back of your head.

“fuck,” he muttered under his breath, his grip tightening just a little as you took more of him into your mouth. “just like that. good girl.”

the praise hit you like a freight train.

the warm weight of him in your mouth, the salty taste of his skin on your tongue— it was already too much, your thighs instinctively pressing together with each muffled moan and wet sound you made.

“deeper,” chan ordered, his tone growing rougher now, sharper, and that alone was enough to set your skin burning like fire.

you let him guide you down further with the hand still resting on the back of your head, his cock sliding over your tongue until it was stretching your throat enough to make your eyes water.

“that’s it,” he groaned again, his voice raspy now. “fuck, you’ve got such a pretty mouth. keep going- don’t stop until you make me cum.”

his words shot straight through your stomach, sending shockwaves of heat pooling between your legs as you bobbed your head, hollowing out your cheeks until he groaned louder.

“you like that, huh?” he said, his grip tightening as a clear bite sharpened his tone. “look at you. so desperate to please me. so desperate to get your TA to cum down your throat.”

you moaned softly at his words, your sounds muffled and messy as you worked your mouth around him, each stroke sinking deeper and deeper.

“shit,” chan hissed, his hips jerking slightly as his cock filled you again and again. “you’re too fucking good at this.”

you barely registered the filthy compliment over the blood rushing through your ears, your focus narrowed to the ragged sounds leaving his mouth as his composure began to slip.

his grip on your head tightened just slightly, enough to keep you in place as his hips rocked forward once, twice— fucking gently into your mouth like he needed to feel you take him even deeper.

“gonna cum,” he grunted, more ragged now as his movements stuttered. “fuck, sweetheart. take it all.”

before you could even think to react, chan groaned low and deep, his head tipping back as heavy spurts of his release shot down your throat. the taste flooded your mouth immediately, thick and milky ropes as you swallowed everything he gave you without hesitation.

his chest heaved as his hips sank back slightly, his grip finally easing from the back of your head.

“holy shit,” he muttered under his breath, a faint laugh pushing out with his exhale as his hand tipped briefly under your chin, guiding your face back up toward him.

you stared up at him, your lips slightly swollen and humiliatingly wet, and the sight alone pulled another satisfied smirk from his mouth.

“such a good little thing,” he murmured, his thumb brushing briefly across your cheekbone.

you swallowed again, your cheeks heating at the praise, but any words you could’ve said were immediately lost when chan shifted in his chair, suddenly leaning forward.

“you didn’t think we were done, did you?”

your stomach flipped entirely.

his hands moved fast, steady as they guided you to your feet before nudging you gently against the corner of the table. it wasn’t until he’d sunk to his knees in front of you that your brain finally caught up.

“chan—” you started, but the sound broke off entirely as his hands sliced up under the hem of your skirt, pushing the fabric up toward your hips.

“quiet,” he murmured, his lips brushing faintly against your thigh when he lowered his head. “let me show you how much better this can feel when you let me do all the work.”

your knees nearly gave out, your breath hitching sharply in your chest as his hands gripped firmly at your thighs.

before you could even brace yourself, chan had slipped your panties down in one smooth movement, leaving you bare and completely at his mercy.

“fuck,” he muttered softly, almost like he was speaking to himself—his thumb brushing faintly against your inner thigh as his head tipped downward, his lips hovering just over your now impossibly wet cunt. “you’re already dripping for me. pathetic little thing.”

you whimpered as his tongue darted out to taste you, his movements slow, deliberate, clearly reveling in every sound leaving your mouth.

he started soft, dragging lazy circles against you that made heat pulse low in your stomach, but it didn’t take long for him to pick up the pace.

his lips wrapped around your clit, sucking sharply before your knees buckled. he growled against you, his arm curling around the back of your leg to keep you locked firmly into place.

“not going anywhere,” he muttered, his voice muffled against your skin. “gonna make you cum just like this. ruin you on my tongue.”

you moaned, your head falling back as one of your hands flew to grip the edge of the table for balance while the other curled uselessly into his hair. his dark eyes flickered up to you, sharp and direct, and fuck if that wasn’t worse.

“look at you,” he murmured, barely pausing to speak as his tongue sank deeper against you. “you’re so desperate you can’t even stand.”

you whimpered harder as he slid a single digit inside of you, pumping slowly at first before curling— learning exactly where to aim before adding a second and setting you completely on fire.

“fuck- chan, i—”

“that’s right,” he groaned against you, his pace only increasing with each ragged sound leaving your mouth. “cum for me. now.”

and when your orgasm hit— sharp and sudden and impossibly strong— you cried out, your legs nearly shaking from the pressure as chan’s hands steadied you through it, chasing your high relentlessly.

your legs were still trembling, completely jelly when chan pulled back from between your thighs, his lips glistening in a way that should have been absolutely illegal.

he looked sinfully smug as he rose to his full height, towering over you now as you practically slumped against the table. your chest heaved, your body still tingling from the orgasm he’d just ripped out of you, and yet… it wasn’t enough.

you wanted more. needed more.

and chan? chan could see it written all over your face.

“look at this mess,” he murmured, his deep voice carrying a mix of pride and mockery. his hand reached out, the pad of his thumb brushing over your swollen bottom lip. “such a needy little thing. you’re not even satisfied after cumming all over my tongue, are you?”

you shook your head slightly, biting your lip and meeting his eyes with that same look he’d teased you for earlier— desperation. hunger.

his gaze dragged down to where your panties now hung uselessly around your ankle.

“you want me to fuck you that badly, huh?”

you nodded, no hesitation this time— your pride was long gone anyway. “please,” you whispered, your voice small and trembling.

that was all it took.

chan’s demeanor changed into something darker, something more dangerous, as he grabbed your hips and spun you around in one swift movement until your ass pressed against the cold edge of the table. before you could even catch your own breath, his lips were on you. hot, firm, and overwhelming as he kissed you like his life depended on it.

you moaned into his mouth, arms subconsciously wrapping around his neck as he pulled you closer, his body slotting perfectly against yours. his hand slipped up under your shirt, fingers grazing the bare skin of your waist before he yanked it off entirely, tossing it somewhere behind him.

“fuck,” he muttered into your mouth. “you’re so fucking perfect.”

his hands found your tits next, slipping underneath your bra and squeezing hard, groaning as his thumbs brushed over your hardened nipples.

“these fucking tits,” he rasped, his voice dropping an octave as his lips moved against your jaw, trailing kisses down your neck. “been dying to get my hands on them. watching you in those tight little tops, tempting me every fucking second.”

you gasped when he suddenly tugged down the cups of your bra and latched his mouth onto one of your nipples, his wet tongue flicking over it before sucking hard.

“fuck, chan,” you moaned, your back arching instinctively into him.

he pulled back just enough to grin up at you, his lips shining with spit. “you like that, baby?” he murmured, his tone dripping with satisfaction. “needy thing like you just lives for attention, huh?”

you nodded again, words completely failing you as he let his hands slide lower.

without warning, chan hoisted you up onto the table, his strong hands gripping your thighs hard enough to leave marks as he pulled you to the edge. the cool surface pressed against your skin, a direct contrast to the liquid heat pooling between your legs. he yanked you to the edge effortlessly, spreading you out for him like you belonged there.

“stay right there,” he ordered, his lips ghosting over yours briefly before he stepped back to slide his boxers down fully, his cock springing free again and making your stomach twist with anticipation.

“you’ve been begging for this since the first day you showed up to my office hours,” he continued, his voice rough and low as he stroked himself slowly, his gaze locked on you like he wanted to eat you alive. “and now you’re gonna take it. every. fucking. inch.”

you whimpered, squirming on the table, because he was right. the need had been eating you alive, every accidental graze of his hand or brush of his shoulder only fueling the fire until you couldn’t see straight. your breath caught as he grabbed your thighs again, spreading you wide for him, his cock brushing against your entrance.

“fucking dripping,” chan growled under his breath, almost to himself as he dragged the tip through your wetness, spreading it messily. “don’t worry, baby. i’ll fill you up so good, there won’t even be room to think about anyone else.”

before you could process those words, he pushed in.

the stretch was immediate, a maddening burn that teetered on the brink of pain and unbearable pleasure. he was big— so thick, so fucking big it felt like he was splitting you open, inch by inch, pushing so deep your mind went blank.

“oh my godd—” you gasped, throwing your head back as your hands scrambled for leverage, gripping his shoulders like your life depended on it. your thighs trembled as he pressed forward relentlessly, not stopping till his hips were flush against yours and every inch of him was crammed inside you, his cock filling you so completely it felt like he was rearranging you from the inside out.

“god,” chan groaned, his cock pulsing as your walls clenched hard around him like a vice. his head dropped forward, and he growled low in his throat, his fingers digging into the soft flesh of your thighs, pinning you in place. “you’re so fucking tight. gripping me like you don’t want me to pull out. you’re greedy for it, aren’t you?”

you moaned weakly, unable to form coherent words, too overwhelmed by the way he stretched you, by the way your pussy wouldn’t stop fluttering and sucking him in even deeper. a lewd, wet squelch filled the air as he shifted his hips, pulling out just slightly before easing back in.

“thereee it is,” he growled, his dark eyes watching your face intently as your lips parted with a choked gasp. his thumb brushed over your bottom lip almost gently, “taking me so fucking good, baby. like you were made for me. made to take this cock.”

your nails clawed at his back, leaving angry red trails as he began to move in earnest. he pulled almost all the way out, leaving just the thick head of his cock stretching your entrance, before slamming back in with enough force to send your whole body jolting backward. the table creaked, but chan’s pace never faltered.

“fuck- chan—” you sobbed, each thrust punching the air out of your lungs. your thighs quivered uncontrollably as his cock dragged over every sensitive spot inside you, hitting so deep it felt impossible. shame burned low in your stomach with every wet squelch that escaped from between your legs, echoing obscenely in the room, but he only groaned louder at the sound.

“gonna make you scream, baby,” he rasped, his tone rough and uneven as he pounded harder, faster, his grip on your body so tight it felt like you were fused together. “gonna make sure this pussy remembers me. so tight, fuck. can feel you dripping all over me- you hear that? that’s how fucking bad you want it.”

all ou could do was nod, your brain too fogged with pleasure to string together a response. your body was limp against him, letting him use you how he wanted— and god, it felt so good. you clenched around him on instinct, the raw pressure of him stretching you bringing you closer and closer to the edge with every brutal thrust.

“look at you,” chan muttered filthily, his hand coming up to grip your jaw as he leaned in, his nose brushing against yours. “so fucking wrecked already, and i’m not even done yet. you like this? having my cock splitting you open like this?”

“yesyes- fuck, yes—” you babbled, tears pricking at the corners of your eyes from the pressure, the intensity, the sheer, overwhelming fullness.

“that’s my girl,” he growled, shifting his grip to your throat, his fingers tightening just enough to make you gasp. “you’re mine now. you hear me? no one else gets to fuck you like this. no one else gets to make you cum.”

his words unraveled something deep inside you, sending molten heat racing down your spine to your core. when his thumb slipped down between your bodies, finding your clit and rubbing harsh circles against the swollen bundle of nerves, the coil tightening in your belly snapped with brutal force.

“mmpph- chan- ’m gonna- i’m—”

“do it,” he snarled, his cock slamming into you without mercy as his thumb worked faster. “fucking cum all over me. let me feel this pussy milk my cock.”

the words sent you over the edge, your vision going white as your orgasm ripped through you violently. your entire body tensed as waves of pleasure crashed over you, so powerful it felt unending. you cried out his name shamelessly, your walls clamping down around him so tight he cursed loudly, his thrusts becoming erratic.

“shitshiit- fuck- you’re gonna make me—” chan groaned, and a second later he buried himself deep inside you with one final thrust, his hips grinding against yours as he came hard. he filled you with hot, thick spurts of his cum, so much you swore you felt it flooding you completely, dripping from where you were still stretched around him. his head fell to the crook of your neck as he groaned low and broken, his body trembling with the force of his orgasm.

for a moment, the room was filled only with the sound of harsh breathing and your heart pounding in your ears. chan pressed messy, lingering kisses to the damp skin of your shoulder as his hands wandered down your body, soothing the marks his grip had left behind.

“did so good for me,” he eventually, his lips brushing against your temple as he leaned up just enough to press a kiss to your swollen lips. “so fucking perfect.”

+

chan didn’t let you move for a long time after that.

he insisted on cleaning you up himself, holding you gently as if you’d break if he touched you too hard now. it was a stark contrast to the man who had just fucked you into oblivion minutes earlier, but the shift made your heart ache in the best way.

and as he kissed you softly, whispering how beautiful you were, how proud he was of you for taking him so well, you felt something else settle deep in your chest.

this wasn’t just a onetime thing anymore.

not the way chan kissed you like he didn’t want to stop. not the way he held you like you mattered everything to him.

this man wasn’t going anywhere— and you weren’t, either.

it made you laugh, softly, almost deliriously, as he pulled you into his lap again.

“what’s so funny?” he asked, tilting his head curiously.

“nothing,” you murmured, your lips curving upward. “just… funny how i was losing my mind over finding condoms in your bathroom cabinet when... you didn’t even use them.”

chan blinked at you, then snorted with laughter, pulling you tighter against him.

“don’t need them,” he said simply, burying his face in the crook of your neck as his fingers traced lazy patterns against your bare back. “not with you. never with you.”

you smiled, warmth spreading through your chest as you curled into him, completely at peace.

your grades were safe. your heart was safe. and chan?

chan looked at you like no one else in the world would ever come close.

and really...

what more could you have asked for?

The old church in front of you stands like a crumbing tombstone. Abandoned and left for the earth to reclaim. Time wasn’t kind to the land or the building. There is no path to follow, only grass and wildflowers as high as your knees. Emerald green moss coated most of the roof shingles, flourishing in the humid, shady environment thanks to the towering Miroh forest. Densely woven ivy clung to the side, making itself at home in the eroding stone. As you rounded the corner to the entrance, the welcoming doors that once stood were now gone, leaving nothing more than a sight that resembled a dark cave entrance. Yes, this would be perfect for the vampire you were tracking. 

Shattered stained glass lets sunlight leak through, creating little god rays in the building to illuminate the rotting wooden pews. Once deeper inside, your boots crush dried leaves and kick up layers of dust. The surrounding air smelled of old incense and something regretfully familiar: decay. 

There, towards the front, were two humans. Not discarded how typical vampires would. No, someone arranged the bodies, propped on display. You strolled closer, stopping beside the nearest corpse. Two bodies intertwined, with half-open eyes and heads tilted opposite, looked like lovers moving in for a kiss.

"Artistic," you muttered; your voice echoed off the stone walls. "Pretentious, even."

It had to be him. 

Your latest assignment was known as Hyunjin Hwang. A once dangerously beautiful artist, known for stealing the hearts of many humans, now takes a life force instead. Rumors say he ran out of money, losing it to gambling and other sins after the death of his partner. He was deep in an opium haze when a vampire found him. The poor soul most likely didn't even know what was happening or what he would become.

Now, separated from his maker and on his own, Hyunjin’s beauty was sharper than any weapon in your arsenal. Even without compulsion, humans followed him like moths to a flame. He was using it so boldly, so frequently, and to such an unhealthy degree that your employers caught wind of it. 

It was easy to know whose kills belonged to the vampire. Hyunjin always left a signature. Not necessarily a calling card. No, even as a monster, this was his newest piece of art. He traded his brushes for bodies, using these humans as strokes of paint. Death was a performance for him. You pulled out a handmade map, unraveling the sheet of paper and placing it flat on the altar in front of you. All of Hyunjin’s kills since you took over the case are marked out. Little splotches of ink that could have been sporadic freckles on someone’s skin. Hyunjin appeared lost, searching for something for years. A place, a memory, or maybe a person? You weren’t sure. He never stayed in one spot for too long. Only a few months here, then travel to a new village. Never quite long enough for hunters to find him. Even with your years of experience, there was a struggle to follow him, chasing reports of staged dead bodies, with no discernable path or reason.

That was until you added the newest location. 

As if a storm were clearing, Hyunjin’s movements are apparent now. The pen in your hand dragged downwards, connecting the line of dots and continuing in a straight line until you reached a city known as Levanter. The very city that was the Hunter’s Association's last known location for the elder vampire known as Chan. 

You smiled to yourself, proud that the puzzle was complete. He’s found what he was looking for. After two hundred years apart, Hyunjin has found his maker. 

Tonight should be the night you cross paths with Hyunjin. If you were correct about the mapped trajectory, the vampire should make himself known. This residence is the last structure able to provide the creature protection from the rising sun. He’s still got a distance to Levanter, but the pressure of time is going to force him indoors and trapped for the day. 

If you can stop him tonight, you can halt any brewing plans the creature might be conjuring up. 

There’s a small electric buzz making its way through your nerves at the thought. He would be the eldest vampire you’ve hunted. The association will be pleased if you are successful. No, your family would be proud. There is a legacy resting on your shoulders and minimal room for failure. It’s crucial that this creature be eliminated. 

Your horse halts on the edge of the property, off to the side, hidden from windows. You dismount before loosely tying the reins to a tree. Then with a soft pat on the creature’s hip, you leave the beast to chomp at the grass at its feet. 

The estate is tucked deep away in the thick woods, too far to be heard and too far to receive help. If the information from the previous town is correct, both owners are elderly. The pair has run out of money. No steward, no farmhands, and no servants to help keep the property from falling apart. Hyunjin may as well be a wolf in a chicken coop. 

What a perfect situation for the vampire to manipulate his way into. Ever so cautiously, you sneak up to the side of the estate. Grass keeps your steps quiet on the damp earth. The first window you peek into is dark, except for the faintest glow flickering behind the parted curtains. Candlelight, you think, not lamplight. There is someone awake inside. Perhaps there is still time you can interfere before Hyunjin does anything unthinkable. 

A few more steps dashed any sign of hope you had. What remains of a back door is open; the bottom half of the wood rests crooked on its hinges, revealing what appears to be a kitchen. With careful hands, you reach for your crossbow stashed on your back in the sling. A breath remains held in your lungs while loading a bolt, waiting for any sort of noise from the dark room. The vampire could be just beyond your visibility, waiting for you. 

While keeping the crossbow aimed, you take your first step into the house. A familiar smell hits your nose once you cross the threshold. It’s the same strong metallic scent at the church followed by a hint of the sickly sweet odor of decomposition. Hyunjin has already begun his next piece of art. 

The crossbow remains held with a hand while the other searches blindly along the wall. Thankfully, your fingers find a light switch, and with a flick, light floods the room in a pale yellow. As your eyes adjust, you take in how the kitchen is in ruins. Pots with dinner were overturned, chairs were splintered, and dried blood was smeared across the floor in long, desperate streaks leading out of the room. You follow the trail through the hall, past family portraits with glass cracked by force.

A soft hum echoes from the parlor. Hyunjin is taking his time, still playing with the residents until the sun peaks through the windows and sends him hiding into the walls until nightfall. This is good; the perfect opportunity for you to catch him off guard. 

You step through the doorway, and the newest art piece welcomes you.

The elderly couple sits propped upright in a set of armchairs, hands folded neatly in their laps. Their eyes are wide open, glassy, and soulless. Chunks of flesh are missing, revealing large holes where throats were torn open, drained of every drop. Hyunjin arranged them like dolls on display. He stands behind them, one hand resting lightly on each of their shoulders as if presenting his artwork.

“Do you like it?” he asked without turning. “I wanted you to see my hospitality.”

You don’t lower your weapon when the vampire turns to face you. Plastered on his face is a wide smile that doesn’t diminish. He instead appears delighted to have a witness to his latest piece.

He steps away from the couple’s chairs with a dancer’s grace, fingertips trailing lightly across the back of one armchair as if savoring the fabric’s texture. The gesture is casual, almost affectionate. This makes his actions progressively worse. There is no remorse. No care for these humans who were living life. Instead, he continues to play with his dolls and make his art. 

“You tracked me well,” he says, circling the room with slow, deliberate steps. “Most hunters don’t make it this far.”

Your eyes flick to the walls. Scratches. Blood. A handprint smeared down the wallpaper when someone tried to hold themselves upright before collapsing. Even with their age, the humans tried to get away. 

“Hyunjin Hwang,” you finally say, forcing your breathing to be steady. “16 men and 32 women just in the last two months. The hunter’s association ordered me to kill you.”

Hyunjin’s grin widens, delighted. “I’m already dead. The association’s numbers are wrong, anyway.”

“I’m well aware.” You say, shifting your stance, keeping him in your sights. The bolt of the crossbow was aimed high on his chest to account for the arc when released. “Your numbers are far higher than that. 154 men and 272 women over the last two years.”

“You’re still wrong.” He giggles. The monster actually giggles, full of light and air, like some girl whispering secrets about her crush behind a schoolyard wall. 

When you don’t share in his amusement, the vampire tilts his head, studying you with a child’s curiosity and a predator’s hunger. The association’s reports echo in your mind. Hyunjin is unstable because of being turned under that heavy opium haze. His mental state has suffered.

You believe it now.

Hyunjin’s eyes flick to your crossbow. “Are we done with the introductions?”

You pull the trigger. The bolt flies out, slamming into his shoulder, driving him back into the wall with a sickening crack. His snarl fills the room, a sound raw and feral. Fangs elongate as a hand of his reaches to rip the bolt free, snapping it in half with one hand as if it were nothing more than a twig.

“I don’t have time for you, hunter.”

“All you have is time.” You spat, fingers on another bolt to reload, hands steady despite the adrenaline burning through your veins.

“And you are not worthy of it!”

Hyunjin moves. A blur of pale skin and long black hair, faster than your eyes can track. You barely twist aside before his hand closes around your throat, slamming you into the floorboards hard enough to rattle your teeth. The impact knocks the breath from your lungs, and the crossbow skitters away, now resting out of your reach at the deceased human’s feet.

These creatures always strike faster, stronger, and more lethal than any human could hope to match. Hyunjin is no exception. He isn’t ancient or an elder, but he’s seasoned. One you were already at a disadvantage against. He’s confident, practiced, and deadly. Even more so with fresh blood coursing through his system. Perhaps you should have waited until he slumbered for the night. 

Hyunjin’s eyes narrow, red pupils boring into yours. The grip around your neck tightens. “Any last words, hunter?”

Your vision pulses at the edges. Black spots appear, nearly blocking out the amused smirk forming on the vampire’s lips. One hand claws at his wrist while the other fumbles along your belt, searching. Your lungs scream for air. Your head throbs with sharp, stabbing pain behind your eyes.

Now or never.

The vial in your hand shatters against his face.

Hyunjin recoils instantly, shrieking as holy water splashes across his cheek, neck, and hand. Smoke rises from his skin as angry red burns bloom and spread. He tries to wipe it away, but his palm drags across the embedded glass shards, slicing deeper.

You roll over, forcing your knees under you and gulping air like a drowning man breaking the surface. No time to recover. You reach for your stake on your hip. This needs to end now. Before he heals. Before he has time to attack. And before he can reach Levanter.

Hyunjin continues to stagger back, eyes blazing with fury. However, that burning flame flickers the longer he assesses himself. That rage inside him drains like a pulled plug. His eyes widen, scanning the burns still forming against the length of his trembling arm and then down to the stake in your hand. Fear? How unusual for a fledgling. 

“Pray we do not meet again, hunter.” His voice is a low growl, his lips peeling back to reveal blood‑stained fangs. “You won’t enjoy it if you do.”

Without another word, Hyunjin vanishes through the doorway in a blur of motion, leaving only the stench of burned flesh and the echo of his laughter. You push off the floor, chest still heaving as you get your feet under you. You stumble down the same hallway you came through, past the mess of the kitchen and back outside, scanning the treeline for the vampire.

Your horse is gone.

Damn bastard took your horse.

As if a line in the sand were drawn, the forest of Miroh ends abruptly. The space between you and the gated entrance of your destination is flourishing fields of farms and vineyards. The longer you walk, the more you realize Levanter stands proud near the end of the coast. Pretty like a painting with a bright blue sky as a backdrop. It would be a shame to have two creatures take this peacefulness away from humanity. 

Sounds of a booming market welcome you. All thriving with no understanding of what evil is about to plague the townsfolk. This is why the hunter’s association strives to eliminate vampires. The more the world doesn’t know these creatures exist, the safer the population is.

Castle walls may have seen modern renovations; the tavern you stop in is another story. What you assume is original stone and mortar frames the cramped, low-ceilinged room. Wooden beams run the length of the ceiling and posts every few yards. The wood could have been reused from an old warship, as one of the main support beams is home to an etched-out name.

Despite the early hour, the tavern is already cramped. The air is thick with the smell of sweat, smoke, and damp wool from the morning storms rolling through. Every table is filled with laborers with cracked hands, miners who finished shifts that still have soot clinging to their sleeves, and even a handful of merchants are here for a quick meal. These are the people who keep Levanter alive, the ones who work until their bones ache.

Every single one of them goes silent the moment you step inside. Not an unusual occurrence. An armed stranger showing up to town is bound to turn some heads. 

A chair across the room scrapes harshly against the floorboard. Silverware is placed down. Tankards pause midair in what was probably a cheer now frozen in place. And just like that, a dozen pairs of eyes narrow on you with suspicion. All because of the crest embroidered on the front and back of your wool cloak. 

A man near the hearth spits into the fire. “Your kind isn’t welcome here.”

You keep your posture relaxed, though the tension in the room is sharp enough to cut. “The church has sent me. You appear to have a vampire problem.”

A ripple of discomfort moves through the tavern. Somewhere behind you comes a curse. A man stands, only to sit back down when his companion grabs his sleeve.

“You only cause us more trouble,” the man by the hearth snaps. “They take one or two humans as needed. After you hunters show up, they kill because they’re angry.”

How interesting, you think to yourself. A town aware of vampires and the hunter’s association still takes a stance with the creatures. To defend these monsters is heresy. The association will have to be notified immediately. However, for now, you need to appeal to these humans to squeeze out the information you need. There are only so many hours before the sun sets. 

“Well, good news: I’m not here to kill.” You say, stepping further into the room, boots echoing on the warped floorboards. “I’m just looking for information. A few decades ago, a vampire was trapped here.”

A woman near the bar flinches. “We don’t speak of him.”

Chan left a deep scar on Levanter. Even two centuries later, there are humans still cowering in fear. Though this is not new information. The tales of his river of blood were known long before you stepped into town. Part of your training is the history of elder vampires. To know the full extent of their powers and destruction. All to remind you what these monsters are capable of. That human shell is just a tool to blend in and get close to its prey, a wolf in sheep’s clothing. Nothing more.

“Then what of the hunter that stopped him?” you press on. “Was the stake he used silver?”

The townspeople recoil in an instant. Almost as if you threw a lit torch into the room. So much fear for a creature, and yet unwilling to confirm details of the entrapment. Wouldn’t the people want this creature dead?

“We don’t talk about what happened!” someone shouts from the back.

“Do you understand that wood does nothing? It immobilizes him, nothing more.” You say, your voice rising to fill the tavern, leaving no corner untouched. Patience is now long gone. “We’ve told you for years. A silver stake, beheading, or fire until there is no ash.”

No one meets your eyes. All stare at their drinks, their hands, and the floor. Just anywhere but you. These people, despite how terrified they are, have no idea that their worst nightmare could very well repeat at sundown. 

“If that stake isn't silver,” you continue, spinning in your heel to acknowledge everyone around you. “Then you will have hellfire descend upon you like you’ve never seen. One of his progeny has found him. He is here to wake him. When he does, you will have hundreds of lives at risk.”

Silence fills the room. The crackle of the logs in the fire and your breathing is all you can hear. Once again the small tavern is suffocating with thick tension. A dense, invisible force pressing against you. Your warning is useless the longer the room is quiet. 

Though just as you are about to turn away, ready to accept that fear has sealed their mouths shut, a voice drifts from a shadowed corner. It’s soft and trembling, but unmistakably clear. “He is imprisoned. On the east side of town in catacombs beneath the city.”

You find her in the low light. A middle-aged woman clutching her shawl tight, eyes haunted by the generational tales shared by her family that she clearly wishes she could forget.

You give a small nod. “Thank you.”

Then you step back into the cool morning air, the tavern door slamming shut behind you as if the townfolk need to create distance from you. You may as well be a plague on this city. Hell, those with leprosy may be treated with more kindness than you. 

A town siding with vampires?

It simply can not be. 

Vampire hunting is not for everyone. These creatures need darkness to keep them safe and tend to crawl into places where humans won’t risk their lives. This means more often than not, you find yourself squeezing through claustrophobic spaces filled with grime and critters. Levanter’s catacombs are no different. The entrance mentioned to you is tucked under a bridge. You nearly missed the iron gate at first glance. Nevertheless, the tight space costs you some supplies on your person. Not ideal, but easier to squeeze yourself through the tiny entry. 

After careful consideration, the forest green cloak works well to wrap around what you will leave behind until you return. By the time you enter into the darkened tunnels, all that remains on you is a sheathed sword, a silver stake, vials of holy water attached to your belt, and the torch providing you a source of light. 

Limestone making up the walls gradually widens once deeper inside. The path you take isn’t part of the original design. Not ample enough to carry the deceased through. Perhaps as an additional exit added later. At least that’s what you tell yourself as some form of reassurance for not having a map of the maze of tunnels under the city. To be expected, the people of Levanter have brought many of their population down here as a final resting place. There are carved-out nooks where common folk rest with different stages of decomposition. Those with wealth have more elaborate spaces, with glass panels keeping away pests and grime. The people’s faith doesn’t go unnoticed either, with several large crosses cut into the stone with written messages ranging from simple prayers to dates of tragedies that plagued the city. 

Without proper light or a way to tell time, there is no way to know how long you wandered. There was a growing ache in your legs thanks to Hyunjin stealing your horse. It doesn’t deter you. Rather, it ignites a flame inside you to find this creature and drive a stake through his undead heart. Your pace even picks up speed as you find fresh boot prints in the dirt.

The prints guide you further underground, down a path descending at a decline. Temperatures drop as well, making you wish you still kept the cloak wrapped around your body. This would be perfect for a vampire. Deep, where men willingly wouldn’t go, and far away from any source of fresh air. There are fewer nooks of skeletal remains down here. Now only a handful of human skulls are used in rows as some sort of decoration, all leading to a large oak door. 

daemonem conclusum tene

Three words etched into the wood. Latin in origin and enough to make you smile. Your search was fruitful. Behind here, a demon lies to be locked away from the world. Or, rather, that would still be locked away, if not for Hyunjin. A large steel lock rests on the ground, broken from the shear force the creature used. 

With a deep breath to calm your nerves, you open the door. It takes some effort; the hinges groan from lack of use, and the dirt on the ground causes a resistance, but still you strain your muscles to create just enough of a gap for you to slip into the room. 

A room isn’t the right word choice. No, this is a crypt. From ceiling to floor, the walls are lined with stacked skulls. You gasp on closer inspection. These skulls don’t belong to humans. No, each one has a set of fangs where you expected regular teeth. There were no records of such numbers of vampires in Levanter. Hell, the association knows nothing. How could such a place exist?

You press on, moving further into the area, quiet as a mouse. Hyunjin is still here; an elevated heartbeat will give you away. Your training will help only if you can manage your fear. These are dead vampires, you tell yourself. Skulls of these creatures can not hurt you. Nor is it enough for the undead to regenerate. It’s simply decoration. 

Eventually you find another source of light. Three torches sit stashed in a set of iron sconces attached to pillars. The fire is bright enough to see how each pillar is used to support the ceiling. However, it's what is in the middle of the space that is far more interesting. 

There, surrounded by several candlelit floor-standing candelabras, rests a raised stone slab, being used as a waist-high podium. On top lies a vintage wooden coffin. For a second, that fear dissipates as excitement floods you. This has to be where Chan was brought. 

Your torch joins the others, sliding into the empty sconce with ease and freeing your hands to examine the coffin. The wooden lid doesn’t fight, lifting and falling off the slide with a thud. Yet, where a body should reside is empty. The grave liner that serves as padding holds an indent with the memory of someone placed inside. It’s then you see it, tucked to the side, peeking out from the lining. A crudely sharpened piece of wood once used as a stake. 

Chan is awake. 

Even with fresh blood, it would take Chan some time to regenerate fully. He will be weakened, slower than most, and far easier to kill than Hyunjin in this state. Your hand reaches for your sword, drawing the weapon out. Now is the time to strike and kill this beast before he becomes a real threat. As you take a step back from the coffin, laughter rings out. It is joyous and deafening as it reverberates off the walls, giving no real sense of the point of origin. It rings out almost to mock you. 

Hyunjin. 

Your thoughts are confirmed when a familiar voice rings out. “You’re too late, hunter.”

“I still have time.” You answer, your tone still calm and collected. Your hand adjusts the grip on your blade. This chamber has plenty of hiding spaces and not enough light to reach every corner. Hell, even where you stand, the torches spread only a small dome of illumination. Leaving the center of the room is not ideal, but you must find Chan. “I’ll kill him before he fully regenerates.”

“Oh, will you?” The vampire asks while his voice continues to echo through the room. “I think I’ll enjoy watching you try.”

You turn to have the empty coffin at your back, facing the void of darkness. “Come on out, Hyunjin. You and I have our own affairs to settle.”

The vampire doesn’t cave to your goading, and the silence that follows is worse than his laughter. It presses in from every direction, thick and suffocating. Or perhaps it's the lack of fresh oxygen down here not helping. Still, you keep your blade raised, listening for the slightest shift of dirt moving under his feet. Anything to give you a hint to where this creature is.

Movement comes from behind you. You spin, sword slicing through the empty air. A cold rush brushes your shoulder as Hyunjin slips past, too fast to track but not enough to ignore. You lunge again when you spin, yet he’s already gone. The creature is playing with you. A cat with a mouse that he continues to bat at. “Always so eager,” Hyunjin murmurs, his voice curling around you like smoke. “Never fast enough.”

“I hit you once. I can do it again.”

You step towards the torch you brought, keeping your stance tight, refusing to give him your back. You need light you can control. You need your torch. It’s another weapon. One you can use to sweep in the air around you and hope you land a blow against his clothes. 

Yet, when you reach for it, a hand clamps around your wrist. 

Hyunjin materializes out of the darkness, his grip iron-tight, his smile sharp enough to cut. You attempt to jerk away and break his hold with no success. Instead, he drags you forward with effortless strength, spinning you toward one of the towering floor candelabra. The flames flicker wildly as your shoulder slams into the support pillar beside it.

You raise your sword to strike, although the result is the same as before: the creature is faster. He reaches for the other wrist. Pain erupts from where he slams your hand against the stone. Once, twice, and a third time. The blade falls from your hold, and he kicks it aside, where it skitters across the dirt floor into the darkness and far out of your reach. 

The skin of your wrists burns as you twist in his grip. It provides enough room for you to slip free. You waste no time, reaching for the stake on your hips and creating distance. The vampire reacts, reaching for any part of you that his hands can grasp. A cry of pain is wrenched out of you as you pull away from the creature. Lady luck appears to be on your side once more.

Hyunjin lets out a snarl in frustration as he realizes it's just the scabbard for your sword in his hands. The force he used snapped the buckle holding it on your body. He tosses the strips of leather away, now standing tall. 

By now, you are on the other side of the podium, the coffin between you two. You swallow hard, feeling the accelerated heart rate pounding in your skull. You are outmatched for this fight; you have to play this smart. Hyunjin’s frustration is his weakness; it can be used against him. 

With that in mind, you reach for Chan’s coffin, and with a firm push you shove the wood off the podium towards Hyunjin. The vampire jumps back with a hiss, avoiding being hit, yet doesn’t notice one of the candelabras get clipped by the coffin. The flames extinguish as the hot wax is thrown his way. Out of reflex, he reaches for the metal rod, ignoring the way the wax burns his skin as it cools. In that split second, you are there, at his back with an arm raised to drive the stake through his undead heart. 

Hyunjin spins to face you, the candelabra now a shield against the front of his chest and blocking the blow. The opportunity is gone. Hyunjin now moves on the offensive, swinging the rod towards you. Your feet shuffle backwards to create distance, circling around the podium again. Both of you move with the grace of dancers, unsuccessful in striking the other. 

The vampire is attempting to wear you down. 

Yes, he’s used his speed to his advantage before now. The game has changed, and this is his plan. You are only human. One who traveled through the Miroh forest to Levanter in a matter of hours on foot. Hell, you barely managed to get a meal in before finding the catcombs. Here you are, wasting more energy to fight him off as more fatigue settles into your muscles.

But to risk the darkness?

Still, you circle around the stone podium, weaving by another candelabra before using your free hand to knock it toward Hyunjin. He knocks it away with little effort, allowing it to clatter and settle in the dirt. You twist your body away as the base of the candelabra he wields arches through the air, aiming for your hand with the stake. 

However, you struggle to back away fast enough as Hyunjin goes in for another abrupt swing towards your feet. You cry out as metal connects with your body. The strength he used is enough to knock your legs out from under you, causing you to land in a heap in the dirt. That once firm grip on the stake is gone as it flings itself away from you. 

Dirt shifts under your scrambling hands and legs while you scoot away from the approaching creature. An ecstatic smile is back on Hyunjin’s face, enjoying the way you are beginning to panic. He’s successful at cracking your collected demeanor and is thriving in it. 

A gasp escapes you when your back connects with one of the pillars. You use the stone as support while you get back on your feet. The stake you dropped is only a few steps away. If you can lunge, you should be successful in retrieving it. If not, then you will keep moving for the one still inside the coffin. 

“No, no, no.” Hyunjin chides when you attempt to bolt. “You will stay and play with me, hunter."

Before you can dive after the stake, he wrenches the candelabra in your path, forcing you to remain against the pillar to avoid the blow. The vampire's speed is back, and with a flick of his wrist, he sends the top of the rod against the pillar, pinning one of your wrists between cold metal candle holders and colder stone. Pain shoots up your arm. You bite back a cry. 

Hyunjin leans in, his face inches from yours, lit by the trembling firelight of the torches. “And here I thought you came to kill me.”

You twist and struggle, trying to free your hand. The weight of the candelabra is unyielding against your human strength. You can’t reach your stake. You can’t reach the torch beside you. The cat has trapped his mouse successfully. 

He tilts his head, studying you like a curious predator he is. “What will you do without your toys?”

“Hyun… Jin,” a voice croaks from deeper inside the crypt. Strained and hoarse from lack of use. “What is all this commotion?”

Chan.

“You think you’re so tough?” Hyunjin taunts, slinking away into the darkness. “Let’s see how you fair against him.”

What the human population doesn’t understand is the presence of elders. Time is the best friend for vampires. These creatures grow stronger and faster and gain new knowledge. It’s almost a new level of evolution these beasts go through, giving even more of an advantage. 

There’s movement in the darkness. Your eyes strain to see it. Calm and quiet, shifting as a shadow, slowly enveloping the space as the elder vampire comes closer to the center. The air around you dips even colder and is filled with less oxygen to hold an invisible bind around your body. There is no room for deep breaths, and like a snake, that pressure tightens.

Shallow breathing is good. Lowers your heart rate. It even helps the stench of decay that follows vampires. Similar to before, most humans don’t notice. Though hunters are trained, they are suffocated with the foul odor. All in an attempt to help pick out the faintest of whiffs to help find newborns among the human population. 

Though a spike of fear does flood your veins in the form of adrenaline. Chan is older than most. Worlds stronger than a fledgling like Hyunjin. If your lost time means this creature has fed, then plan B might not be successful. 

Two orbs appear in the darkness and catch your eyes. A shaky breath from you is loud enough to hear in the still room. Even Hyunjin keeps his playful banter quiet for now. 

Tapetum lucidum. 

Eyeshine. 

“It appears to be fate for you and me to meet, Miss Helsing.” Chan says, stepping into the room’s circle of light. The skin you were expecting to be grey and leathery is neither. Instead, it is flushed with a faint pink, showing how healthy and plump the skin is. Same with his lips as they curl up in a smile. “One of the last descendants and you come alone?”

Chan is fully regenerated. 

Your back straightens, your free hand at your side as you continue to push at the iron holding your other wrist in place. Confidence spills from your lips despite the way your heart is pumping faster. “I’m more than capable of handling myself.”

The typical burial gown Chan was noted for wearing is nowhere to be seen. The vampire walks closer barefoot, nice brown linen pants and an unbuttoned white shirt pulled on like some sign of purity. Not a drop of blood on the clothes or his body. No sign of his last feeding. Fangs fully retracted paired with skin holding warmth. Hyunjin could only have beaten you to Levanter by three hours. 

That many humans in such a short time? 

The elder vampire halts at your feet, head tilted at an angle. "Ah, such fire in those eyes. I wonder what would snuff out that flame."

Chan reaches for the metal rod and, with a speed your brain struggles to process, pulls back. Your hand is finally free for a moment before being yanked above your head. The end of the candelabra enters the stone of the pillar once more, trapping you in place, though Chan has you pulled high, on your tiptoes. 

Gears shift and panic sinks in. There is no hiding from him now. There is no avoiding this creature. Instead, you are a rabbit with a limb in a snare trap. Your free hand reaches up, tugging at the metal, desperate to wedge it free more than ever. 

“How curious I am about you.” The vampire continues to talk as you struggle. “A Helsing in my presence. It’s been years.”

“I have no words for you.” You say while keeping Chan in your peripheral vision.

“Your grandfather is nothing but a dying legend here. Do you know that?”

“Yes.” You answer, sweaty, shaky fingers trying to squirm around your wrist. Just a little more and you will be free. “I noticed the hospitality of the village.”

Hyunjin speaks up, the direction of his voice not quite discernible. “Protection is a powerful thing, hunter.”

You halt your struggle. Hyunjin may as well have handed you the last piece in the puzzle. Chan was supposedly slumbering for two hundred years. Even with the stolen horse, the human blood it would take for a regeneration would need days to arrange. Hyunjin left with nothing but the clothes he wore. Then you have to account for the humans at the tavern. The people held genuine fear for Chan. You were an enemy to their peace. Chan was never imprisoned. Somewhere a tale was spun, giving a falsehood to the church, the association, and even you. Everything you read to prepare yourself was fabricated by the people of Levanter. Either by choice or compulsion. This creature was awake, growing stronger every day, and here you are as a dessert, waiting to be consumed. 

Chan’s voice grows lower, meant for your ears only. “And to think, I get such a wonderful gift in return.”

You swallow the lump that formed in your throat. Again, your heartbeat ticks faster despite you willing it not to. Finally, you cave, lowering your eyes to look at the vampire in front of you directly. 

“Unless…” Chan pauses as he closes the distance between you two. You can feel the way his body loses heat as the human blood is processed in his system. His eyes scan your frame before backing up to your eyes. “Do you beg as pretty as you look, human?”

“I do not beg those beneath me.” You say, voice cracking. The words came out impulsively despite the lack of confidence. You should hold your tongue and try not to antagonize the creature in front of you. 

Chan’s lips twitch, fighting the urge to grin. "Oh, how you humans are so fascinating. A little lamb in front of a wolf so willingly yet pretends to have claws.”

“Just kill me and get it over with.”

There’s movement behind Chan, right on the edge of where the torch illumination ends and darkness begins. Hyunjin pokes his head out of the shadows, his body still hiding behind a support pillar. “After all the effort I went through to get you here? That would be a waste, wouldn’t it?”

Hyunjin is of sound mind. 

He has to be. Hunters struggled to track Hyunjin because he didn’t want to be found. He deliberately went into hiding to cover his tracks. The association would assign a new hunter once he popped up. He repeated the process until you found him. You were the goal. This is why he ran last night. If he were to die by your hand, not only would he cease to exist, but he would let down his maker. 

You were a promised gift to Chan. Not from the people of Levanter. No, from Hyunjin. A gift from a fledgling to their sire of the utmost rarity. A vampire hunter from a line of career royalty now practically on a silver platter. There was nothing else that could compare, and you played into his hands perfectly. 

“Is this what you do?” You ask, not breaking eye contact with Hyunjin. “Bring him hunters while the city turns a blind eye?”

A giggle rings out. Hyunjin peaks from the other side of the pillar, a frenzied smile back on his face. “I told you that you wouldn't like it if we met again.”

Chan steps to the side, moving into your line of sight and blocking your view of the other vampire. “So, human, how does this game of ours play out? You say you do not beg, but what else is there to do?”

When hunters are in training, one of the first rules taught is never to look a vampire directly in the eye. Many of these creatures are capable of compulsion, a power that is a form of mind control. The association is unsure how it works, but there are only a handful of ways to avoid subcombing or breaking free from the spell it causes. 

Even with that rule in the back of your mind, you don’t look away as you speak. “I do not beg those who are below me.”

Sharp nails dig into the base of your throat with a vice grip, driving the air out of your lungs in a surprise gasp. Chan doesn’t miss the opportunity to press his palm flat against your windpipe. Not to close off the airway. No, he’s much crueler, leaving just enough airflow to keep you conscious as he speaks. “Hyunjin, do you know what I like about these kinds of gifts? They all crave that adrenaline rush. Get off on it too. Her cunt gives her away before the heartbeat does.”

Your strained voice is nothing more than a croak. “Shut…up.” 

“You’re brave for speaking back to me. Instigating to get a rise out of me.” Chan smiles wide, truly humored by you. He doesn’t even acknowledge the way you claw at his skin, scraping at flesh to deter his grip. The taunt continues instead. “I know your kind. All I need to do is give that pretty little mouth of yours something better to do.”

Those words freeze you. No, he wouldn’t. Surely, he doesn’t mean such a sin.  

“Ah?” Chan comments, eyebrow raised in question. “So now you realize how serious of a predicament you are in. You’re running out of time to plead, and I’m envisioning plenty of creative ideas about how I want to handle you."

The lack of a response only spurs on the vampire. Chan drives a knee between your thighs; firm muscles press higher against you, making it harder for you to keep your footing. Your hand is no longer at his wrist. Instead, you press the sweaty palm against the pillar, sliding against the smooth rock for a grip. All the while your feet scramble on the tips of your boots, trying to raise yourself higher to get away from grinding against the intrusive limb.

“Do you understand? If I wanted to, I could make you docile. Make you obedient. But I don’t want to do that. That’s far too easy.” He says, his tone indifferent to your struggle.

Chan is too close. The weight of his body against yours. His strong thigh was pressing higher. That smell of decay and earth is too much, and there is not enough oxygen. Your throat burns with need as this vampire tests your fragile human limits. In that silence as he ponders his decision, you may actually pass out. 

“No, I think I’ll play with you. Break you into submission. That would be more rewarding. Watching your little spirit crush as you realize that your obedience will be the only thing letting you live.”

Chan’s hand moves, now pressing those nails into the flesh of your chin, turning your head to force eye contact. Your lips shallowly part to bring in air you desperately need. The hunger in the red irises bore into you as a way meant to intimidate that increasing fear inside you. He is staring down another to establish dominance. The predator in him wants your focus on him and him alone. All tactics you are more than familiar with. All vampires carry the same ego, proud bastards that thrive off making their prey feel nothing more than being at the mercy of the beast. 

“Can you handle that humiliation?” He asks, leaning close enough his lips nearly brush your own as he speaks. “Knowing you will become a plaything for the very creature you swore to kill. Or is that pussy leaking against my thigh because that’s what you want me to do?”

Your voice comes out so small, so foreign-sounding to you. “No…”

“No?” Chan echoes, fake surprise on his face for half a second, before morphing into an amused grin. “I have a hard time believing you. Your body is saying otherwise.”

The candelabra holding your wrist above you clatters to the floor. The colors of the room blur. Chan pulls you away from the pillar to a nearby stone podium. He harshly deposits you on top, and before you can grip your bearings, both creatures are upon you. Hyunjin fights your flailing arms until both are pinned down on either side of your head. Across from him, Chan climbs nimbly to slip between your thrashing legs, his own knees digging into the meat of your thighs to hold you open and in place while he stares down at you. 

“Get off of me!” You scream, still writhing under the iron grip, trying to find one little weakness to break free.

There's no response from Chan. His hands work at the belt on your hips, undoing the buckle on the piece of leather to pull your supplies off and away from your body. He tosses away the small vials of holy water one by one; the glass containers shatter on impact across the lid of his coffin. More and more of your fight is leaving your body, watching how the old wood soaks up the moisture. 

“Tell me, have you actually killed a vampire?” Chan asks, intrigued. A corner of his lips raises when a snarl slips out. His tone becomes more aggressive with your silence. “Answer me, human!”

“Yes, yes, I have!” you sputter out, flinching at the sudden shift from his calm manner. 

“Really?” Hyunjin asks, leaning forward enough to be in your line of sight. The ends of his long locks tickle your cheeks. “Were they slumbering?”

“No.” You snap back, a defensive whine in your voice. “They were wide awake.”

With the belt empty and tossed away, Chan reaches for the last piece of protection on your body. A chain that usually dangles around your neck. He tugs harshly to break the thin links before dangling the necklace from his hand to examine the silver cross. The very one gifted by the church to the hunter association. Each hunter receives one as a reward when completing their training. Now it catches the light from the torches, completely useless to you. 

Chan’s eyes trail from the cross over to you. “How close to God do you want to be, human? Do you want to meet him?”

“I—I don’t…” Your words trail off, unsure how to answer. 

“Of course, you don’t.” Chan supplies while tossing the cross away. Both hands return to your body, right at the valley between your breasts. His fingers curl under the edge of your corset to grip and pull harshly. The fabric and boning holding the material together shred from the force, like paper. “I will test your faith today. No, I’ll test your will. See how much you can endure.”

Just like the vials of holy water, the remnants of the corset are removed from around your frame. Your lungs expand, despite the shallow, panicked breaths you take. Chan’s hands are already gripping the thin material of your blouse, the only piece keeping you from being exposed to the monster. 

“No! Don’t!” You cry out. “Stop!”

“You can beg at anytime, human.”

Tears burn at your lash line as your mantra spills out of you again. “I do not beg those below me.”

“Then we continue.” Chan responds while he rips the fabric. This time, buttons fling in different directions from the motion. He observes the goosebumps forming along your uncovered skin, unfazed by the way you try to turn away from him with little success. “What a pretty body you’re hiding. Makes my teeth ache the longer you’re under me. You should be warming someone’s bed, not out here hunting monsters you can’t fight.”

“Then fight me fairly!”

Chan laughs, dark and mean, while cutting through the fabric away from your arms. “Human, you were never going to win that fight. I admire your spirit though.”

This can’t continue. You can’t allow these creatures to win like this. Though Chan doesn’t budge when you attempt to buck him off of you. It only causes him to press down harder against your thighs, causing you to shout out. Your wrists aren’t faring any better. Hyunjin’s nails press into the sore flesh, ready to sever the skin if you try to turn away. You’re completely trapped and at their mercy. And that smug expression on Chan’s face terrifies you. 

Speaking of said vampire, he pierces into the fabric of your pants and shreds the material protecting your crotch with ease. He pauses briefly to admire the wet spot where the underwear sticks to your folds. His nostrils flare and your stomach sinks; he can smell your arousal from where he sits. The heat of embarrassment or shame runs through your body like a forest fire consuming a hayfield. There’s no hiding the truth now. 

Just like your other clothing, he rips the thin layer separating him from your most intimate spot. You gasp as the cold air in the tomb is jarring against your wet pussy. All the fight in your limbs truly fizzles out in shock or anticipation of how far this will go. 

“Look at that,” Chan remarks, eyes locked on your cunt. He traces a single finger along the slick folds, teasing the entrance without pushing inside. “I don’t think all this is from your fight with Hyunjin.” 

“Oh, hunter.” Hyunjin practically purrs, watching the finger glisten in the low light. “You are making tonight far more interesting now.”

“Indeed.” Chan says, his attention back on you. “I’ll make you a deal, human. Admit it. Admit you wanted this, and we’ll stop. Say you came looking for us.”

“I came looking to kill you, not for this.”

Now, Hyunjin has built muscle on his body like most working men of his time. The vampire is a young fledgling but is greater in strength than a human. The elder, on the other hand, has a bulkier frame. One of tireless efforts to become mightier. Before turning, he may have been able to pull a whole carriage on his own. Though as the monster who is well-fed, Chan is unyielding with his stature. Chan shifts, easing the pressure against your thighs. Yet, when you try to move during that brief moment of freedom, the blood flow goes back to your legs, and pins and needles travel along every nerve, stopping any communication from your brain. The vampire expects as much, taking his time to settle himself lower between your thighs, face inches away from your pussy. Both of his brawny arms hook around your thighs to keep them open and precisely where he wants you. He might as well be a set of shackles. 

Despite your efforts to dwell on that hatred for this beast, somewhere lower in your body, your core twists with sparks of lust you do not wish for. Such a display shouldn’t excite you. His arrogant smirk is supposed to fuel your rage. He is entertaining such an atrocity as a way to terrorize you. The pair must be lying about having pets. If there were news about an elder vampire keeping hunters as playthings, then you would know. The association would know of such transgressions. Wouldn't they?

“If you have nothing else to say, I will enjoy my gift.”

“Don’t!” you demand, your voice shaking as the control over your panic slips away from your grasp.  

“Or what, hunter?” Hyunjin taunts with a squeak of delight. “What can you do?”

A whine slips past your lips at the first contact of Chan’s tongue running flat along the length of your slit, simply tasting the wetness that’s formed. Your hips shift at any angle you can, trying to get away from the intrusive touch. No matter how you attempt to move your limbs, both creatures keep you in place.

“Did I pick well, sire?”

“She’s delectable.” Chan answers, not bothering to pause his torture more than he needs to. “Men would die for a nectar this sweet.”

His words should hold no effect over you. Yet, your body can’t halt that bolt of desire coursing through your nerves. Chan’s teasing is delightful. No, more like heavenly after years of abstinence to focus on your career. This monster is pressing his tongue inside you, tip chasing that wetness your pussy continues to leak to appease him. How can you make your body not react when his actions are so sinfully enticing?

“No… Ah!” you whimper out. “S-Stop this madness!” 

Chan ignores your words; his tongue now moves up to your clit, prodding at the button of nerves as if he were here to show his affection to a partner he hadn't seen in years. No matter how many times you blink, the obscene sight of an elder vampire in between your thighs doesn’t go away. 

This isn’t a nightmare. It’s real and happening. No help is coming; no one in the association knows your location. You took on this task alone. And here you are, at the mercy of those who have no moral compass. This vampire is driving his tongue faster. A beast of its own, teasing and prodding your clit to stimulate you even more. He behaves as a man striking cold water on a hot day. He craves your approaching orgasm more than anything. He craves that victory against your body he knows will be inevitable. 

“Beg me, human.” He mumbles against your slick cunt. “Beg me to let you come.”

“No,” you say more to yourself than him. His gaze is so commanding even without compulsion. You can’t allow yourself to succumb to this demon. He’s having fun, trying to humiliate you into defeat. He will grow bored eventually. All you have to do is endure. You shut your eyes once more, trying to block Chan’s fierce eyes out of your memory. “I don't beg those beneath me!”

“Then I’ll stay here all night, between these beautiful thighs. We’ll see who cracks first.”

“Give him what he wants, hunter.” Hyunjin’s lips brush your ear. “Then you can have that sweet relief.”

“No! I won’t!” you say with the venom you can muster up. 

All your life you have spent years training your stamina, your endurance level, and your pain tolerance. Years of teaching you to expect these bloodsuckers to try to kill you without hesitation. That these creatures will bite and feed till you are too weak to fight. Nothing taught you how to handle this kind of torture. 

Your mind wanders back to the lessons you were taught. The church and the association drill many of their shared beliefs into you. Now it will be a lifeline. Sin is only as strong as you allow it. The very words you used to repeat daily now will be another opportunity to solidify those principles as your own. You will overcome this test. Another whine leaves you, and Hyunjin doesn't miss the opportunity to weasel in his thoughts to break you, like some sort of devil on your shoulder. “Hunter, there’s no need to cling to your shame here.”

Your entire body tenses. The promise of release is right there. One more little push off the edge, another harsh suck, or just one more lick across your clit from Chan will do it. How desperately you want to embrace it. Let it crash into you like a mighty storm’s waves smashing against the cliffs. Let yourself indulge that sinful orgasm that is calling out to you worse than any temptation Eve herself faced. 

Satisfaction never happens. 

Chan pulls away, letting that high dissipate in disappointment. 

Your cries filled the crypt, a mix of frustration and raw desire; your arms continue pulling uselessly against Hyunjin’s grasp. Chan only stares emotionless at you when your eyes open. The lower half of his face glistens with your wetness before diving back in to resume his assault.

This time his plush lips seal around your clit again to suck hard, while fingers slide along your slit to tease your entrance, shallowly dipping inside. Your pussy throbs with need, begging him for more even if you speak the opposite. The creature is listening to how your body responds with practiced ease. He is building you up so relentlessly, over and over, denying you sweet release each time, until your entire body quivers on the brink and every nerve in your body screams with agonizing need. 

There was no enduring any longer. Not with the way those two thick fingers finally breach deeper inside you. Chan pumps his fingers aggressively. He’s not preparing you for a cock like a gentleman would. No, he’s playing with how much wetness has formed, making sure you can hear the squelches over the noises slipping past your lips. 

“Please.”

Chan’s mouth pauses the sweet assault on your clit to speak against your skin. “I can’t hear you, human. Say it louder.”

“Please.” You beg, eyes wretched shut as you manage the internal debate of what you are begging for. Is it for him to kill you, to stop, or to let you come? All of them would sound the same right now. “Please let me come.”

The vampire doesn’t halt his actions this time around.

Chan groans in approval when you come, the vibrations adding to the height of your explosive orgasm. He’s fascinated with the fresh wave of wetness he can play with. There’s so much now, enough to the point even you can feel it dripping down onto the podium you rest on. His fingers never stop, pumping and prodding as the walls of your pussy spasm around the digits. 

To silence the moans Chan is wringing out of you, your teeth sink into the meat of your arm in some effort aimed at curbing the pleasure with pain. Hyunjin’s light airy giggle is against your ear again. “Do you hear yourself, hunter? If he were human, he’d drown.”

No, you don't want to accept that the whorish sounds filling the room are coming from you. You are at war. Not only with these monsters but also with a body proudly betraying you, accepting the attention with open arms. None of this should be happening; this was not how events were supposed to unfold. Certainly, this madness will end soon; Chan has won. He proved his point. 

After what seems like a lifetime, the overwhelming rush dies out, leaving your high-strung body to relax against the stone. Your chest heaves with your panting, desperate to catch your breath. Hyunjin doesn’t even need to hold your arms down. He is free to circle around the podium, buzzing with the excitement of such a display. 

The fatigue settling in has left you spineless. There isn’t enough energy to close thighs when Chan pulls away. Or even kick when Chan manages to remove your boots and what fabric remains of your pants. You accept being completely naked in front of vampires. Possibly, there is a chance God will pity your fight and allow your racing heart to give out in the next minute, and you won’t have to worry about your fate any longer. 

“Well, human, you beg as prettily as you look.” Chan murmurs, his voice rougher than before. “Unfortunately for you, I want to hear more.”

“No… No more,” you whine out. You are defeated, with a broken spirit. “I can’t.”

“It’s not your decision, is it?” The vampire responds, and his hands find your body again. This time it's to guide you to a different position. 

The room spins as you are flipped over. He’s gentle, with no rush as you struggle to get on your hands and knees. At least like this you don’t have to deal with the heat of his gaze on you. Nor do you have to see the way Hyunjin wants to devour you. In fact, the stone feels cool against your forehead. Some solace at least.  

“There we go.” Chan mutters to himself, palms finding your back, pressing your front to the stone, creating an arch in your spine. His hands trail to your hips, rubbing reassuring circles while he settles behind you. “This is how I’d have you present yourself to me every night. Naked and waiting as long as I wanted.”

An hour ago his coffin lay here, undisturbed. And now here you are, displayed like some kind of concubine for a king’s enjoyment. It’s a wonder how many times this creature has done this. Perhaps even when he was a human, so now it's merely second nature.  

The elder keeps speaking, smug and unfazed by the return of Hyunjin’s excited, airy giggles. “I think you’d like that, human. No thoughts, no responsibilities, no expectations. Just forced to enjoy sweet sins.”

You mumble into the stone below you. “You’re wrong.”

Chan’s cold skin burns against your flushed skin as he leans down to your ear. “Am I?” Sharp fangs nip at your earlobe, causing you to turn away from him. A chuckle reverberates through the vampire's chest and against your back. “You can deny it all you want, but we know how you crave it. It’s why this pretty pussy is dripping for my cock.”

“Please, just let me go.” You plead, your voice hoarse. “Please.”

You will leave Levanter, and you won’t return to the association. No one will know the truth of Chan not being imprisoned. No one would know about the last descent of your family or her record of kills. Anything. You will give him anything he wishes to end this madness. 

“That opportunity has passed us,” Chan speaks, loud enough to cover the sound of rustling fabric. 

You gasp in surprise at the sudden pressure against your hole. Instead of fingers, Chan guides the head of his cock inside. It’s enough to make your eyes roll back as Chan bullies the wide girth of his cock inside your tight pussy. There’s no rush, sinking an inch at a time, allowing both of you to savor every detail until his hips are flush against your own. Your walls cave to the size so willingly and are so welcoming to take him in. 

“Oh human,” Chan groans, forehead pressing against your back. “Your tight cunt doesn’t want to let me go.”

Betrayal of the upmost form. Because the vampire is right. Even with the slickness aiding him, your cunt clenches around him, not wanting to lose that satisfaction of being filled so completely. The internal battle gets you nowhere; no matter how hard you will your body to listen, it refuses. Instead, it begs you to embrace a lust you didn’t think was a necessity to survive this lifetime.

Your hands cling to the edge of the podium, knuckles white, searching for some sort of grounding. Even with the vampire physically draped half over you, and there is no fear of falling forward, you need to prepare yourself for the sudden drive behind the vampire’s thrusts. Unlike his initial ease, the vampire abandons the softness for a pace far more animalistic the second he’s able to.  

“How spoiled I am,” Chan grunts, sounding satisfied and oblivious of how you try to shrink away from him. “Your body accepts me so beautifully. I almost forget you are supposedly an enemy.”

Fine, you think, no longer fighting the vampire above you. You will play the part he wants. Let him think he has eradicated every ounce of fight from you. Let him goad and proclaim his success to Hyunjin. Now is the time to recover that energy. If the vampire thinks you have succumbed to the defeat, then that opens the opportunity to strike against him. In the end, it’ll be you that has the satisfaction of witnessing his demise. You will drive a silver stake through his heart and dance in the ashes that will remain once he’s gone. 

Your body relaxes briefly, and Chan notices, “There we go. Have we accepted our fate?”

It takes all your might to sink your teeth into your tongue. However, the vampire doesn’t enjoy your silence. Chan hooks an arm around your neck, pulling you up and away from the stone podium. Both of your hands scramble to reach any expanse of his flesh in a panic. Once again the reality of the situation is in view. Your eyes struggle to adjust to the low light after keeping them shut for so long. There is no moving away as your back rests against his firm chest. You cry out at the new angle as he continues to drive his cock even deeper. 

Hyunjin has moved front and center, eyes wide with awe. You stare back, with the heat of the sun in your glare as a hand of his slips down over his pants to cup the growing bulge there. The disgust inside you is embraced. Hyunjin will meet his demise after tonight's events are over. You will take your time. Maybe let the sunlight gradually burn his limbs. 

“Don’t disappear in that pretty little head of yours.” Chan says in your ear. His free hand brings yours to your stomach and holds it in place. Every thrust up, you can feel the way your skin extends slightly. “Feel it, human. What would your beloved association think if they saw you like this? If they saw how you are enjoying it?”

Thoughts swim through your head. Faces of instructors, friends, and colleagues flash. You would never be accepted again. Ostracized, while every rank and mark you earned through evaluations would be stripped away. The only small saving grace would be that there is no family to disown you. News would travel, following you through every city as you try to find footing. Gossip about how you lost to the beast, how Chan's full length is dizzying, and maybe even how you still have to fight your body for self-control to keep from begging him for more. 

Before you can even brace, another orgasm takes you by surprise. Your grip tightens, clinging to Chan even though his hold on you is iron. That familiar white-hot pleasure courses through you. It’s explosive and all-consuming. Any thoughts in your brain melt away to mush. There is no Hyunjin in front of you, and the vampire driving his cock faster inside you is nothing more than an experienced lover at that moment. “Oh god,” you gasp out. “Please, it’s too much.”

“Again?” Chan asks with a hint of amusement in his tone. “Such a greedy body.”

Such heights shouldn’t be possible. Such a nirvana isn’t supposed to exist. The teachings were right. These creatures are demons walking this earth to destory lives. Chan is planting a seed of corruption inside of you, in hopes it will grow and ruin any values instilled in you. The mental fortitude it's taking to resist is more draining than the exhaustion in your muscles. You must stay strong. 

Movement from Hyunjin draws your attention. He takes his time undoing his pants, pushing the material down his thighs. His fingers gently wrap around the length as he begins to stroke his half-hard cock. Not once does he ask to play with the toy he gifted. You don’t expect him to. He’s far too loyal to his sire. Witnessing his maker’s dominance should be enough for the bastard to come where he stands. 

“Human, we're going to play nicely, right?” Chan speaks softly into your ear. Calm and collected, unbothered by the exertion it takes to keep driving his cock inside you. “Because if you bite him, he’s gonna bite back.”

Your mind reels at such a suggestion. An elder being willing to share with a fledgling is unheard of. The only time humans are shared is when newborns are learning to feed. It’s the same as a predator teaching their young to take down prey. There’s no reason to share. Unless this is about the duo pushing the limits of their humiliation. 

Hyunjin continues to grin at your sudden revelation. The bastard raises an eyebrow in question of what your answer would be. He doesn’t have to wait long; your voice comes out quiet, though the two can hear your words with ease. “I’ll behave.”

“Good answer,” Chan praises, lowering you back onto your hands and knees. He follows up with a handful of words that make you hopeful. “Show me how you worship a cock and I’ll consider letting you go after this.”

Hope is such a deceitful emotion. The logical part of your brain knows Chan’s words are a lie. Yet, the hunter in you, determined to survive, is willing to entertain the task. The plan brewing in you doesn’t change. If anything, it proves you are playing your role perfectly. And may this brief indulgence in wickedness lower their defenses further. 

To your surprise, Hyunjin is gentle despite how aggressive his combat was. One hand cups your chin, fingers pressing featherlight to encourage your mouth to open. You don’t fight, allowing him to feed the tip of his cock past your lips, resting it on your tongue. He doesn’t move or order, leaving the control in your hands. 

You are far from a virtuous person. Nevertheless, there are standards among your colleagues. You are expected to maintain a certain level of professionalism, though neither the church nor the association can stop you from pursuing certain aspirations in life. You may have a partner, kids, or land. It’s just not ideal when the job requires travel and dedication. The abstinence you instilled in yourself is controlled by you. Your mission to track Hyunjin took all of your time and resources, and here you are in such a compromising position with the vampire. 

At first your lips close around his length, keeping every practiced move mechanical. The bob of your head, the way your tongue rests flat under the length, letting his cock move in and out while another vampire continues to fuck you. 

“Mmm, hunter,” Hyunjin groans low, lost in bliss. His eyes threaten to roll back into his skull. “Thought about this our last meeting. I should have taken advantage of it.”

Chan’s grip on your hips tightens. He’s watching his fledgling use his gift, and it’s getting to him. Vampires are greedy creatures by nature, leading them to be protective over their prey. How interesting would it be if you could cause a rift between the two? 

You push back onto Chan’s cock, meeting his thrusts and taking him as deep as you can. At the same time, let your cheeks hollow and suck the cock in your mouth with purpose. Your tongue swirls around the tip, saliva dripping down the length. You’re rewarded with Hyunjin growing more vocal with his moans. 

Chan’s thrusts get rougher. You match his pace, rocking back and forth between the two vampires, letting the cock in your mouth slide further down your throat while your pussy clenches around the other. Spit runs down your chin. Your throat relaxes even further as your tongue continues teasing. Your tits sway with every thrust. All actions double your effort. A whore's intent to ruin the men she’s with. 

“You are no hunter, human.” Chan scoffs, pushing against the back of your head, forcing you to take more of Hyunjin’s cock into your mouth. You gag around the length and brace a hand against Hyunjin’s firm thigh to push him back. Just like the stone pillars, he doesn’t budge an inch or say a word as his maker continues to speak, the tone growing more condescending. “However, you would make a great pet.”

You can’t help but moan around the cock in your mouth. Maybe words of protest or something else that could sound like agreement. Chan will never know; he can only assume. Though the way your pussy is leaking down the back of your thighs might be telling enough. 

It’s to no one’s surprise that yet another orgasm overruns you. Regardless of your previous highs being so intense, the current one still maintains that level of euphoria. The vampires let you enjoy every second, enabling you to be as greedy as you want. 

The events of today change yet again. After a handful of thrusts, Chan disappears from behind you. Speaking only two words. “Take her.” 

“Thank you, sire.”

The cock in your mouth retracts, and Hyunjin leaves you. You freeze where you are on the podium watching the two vampires alternatively walk around the stone podium to trade places. Anticipation twists your stomach. This whole ordeal is not over. Though where there should be disgust is being chipped away with a crushing craving for more. 

“Hunter, how do you like to be fucked?” Hyunjin asks, flipping you onto your back. He slips between your thighs with no resistance from you. “Bred like a dog or something softer? Do you prefer to be taken like an obedient wife who is being rewarded?”

The only response the vampire gets is a moan slipping past your lips while Hyunjin sinks his cock inside you. He doesn’t share the girth of Chan but mirrors the length that kisses your insides so perfectly. Hyunjin’s hands run over your body, free to explore every inch until he settles on your breasts. He fondles and kneads the soft skin as he settles into a pattern of sensual rolls of his hips. Hyunjin isn’t fucking with dominance. No, it’s softer, more intimate, and less focused on his own pleasure. 

All while the elder vampire watches. 

Eventually, the fledgling gets bored. Hyunjin maneuvers how he wants you, one leg hitched over his shoulder and the other around his waist. His thrusts are just as fluid, though now is when the pace picks up, becoming more aggressive. He ruts as deep as he can hit. That cocky smirk returns to his face, and you want so badly to reach up and smack it off his face. 

Instead, you cling to the edge of the stone podium, letting him taunt you. “He’s right, hunter. Far better at taking a cock than fighting.”

Chan leans down to get closer to you. He coos at your slackened mouth, enjoying the little gasps being punched out of you. “I don’t think I can let you go, human.”

You turn your head away, trying to ignore him. It’s childish behavior, but it's all you can do. It’s all you can control in the current situation. 

“No, don't hide away.” A hand finds your cheek, turning your face back to him. You look at the vampire, watching Chan’s pupils dilate. He’s attempting to use his compulsion. “Keep looking at me.”

Truthfully, the vampire doesn’t need to tap into his powers; you can’t look away if you want to. His fangs fully elongate, peaking from under his plush lips. He’s aching to feed, yet he’s going on with a speech, spewing truths about you. “You’re addicted, human. Seeking out what a man can’t give you. Because we fuck better, deeper, and harder, kissing those intimate spots a man doesn’t even know of. You forget who you are to the point all you can conjure up is one word.”

Your lips tremble but no words come out. The building pressure of yet another orgasm is coming. No thanks to Hyunjin’s fluid thrusts and Chan’s words. He leans closer, letting his lips brush your own. “You know the word I want to hear again. Say it.”

“Please.”

Your words spur on Hyunjin. His hips snap faster, cock burying inches deeper inside of you. His giggle fills the room as needy whimpers spill past your lips. You want it. You want that orgasm. The sin of greed be damned. 

Chan gives a one-word command spoken right against your lips. “Come.”

The wave of pleasure crashes into you a second later. Vision blurs the point where you can no longer even see the vampire in front of you. Nor do you fight when plush lips connect to yours, swallowing down every little noise you make as his tongue invades past your lips to explore. You accept what the vampires give you with open arms. 

When Chan pulls away, you swallow down mouthfuls of air. Your head is fuzzy from the pleasure and the lack of air. You are at your limit. Your body will break if they continue. The cusp of passing out is there. Hell, death may even be waiting for you. 

Yet, Chan wants to push you further. 

His hand sneaks down, past your stomach, between your thighs, right where Hyunjin is connected to your body. Two fingers find your swollen clit and begin what could only be considered torture at this point. 

“Stop, I can’t!” You demand with real panic. “No more. Please!”

“You will, human.” Chan says calmly, his fingers rubbing messy circles just how you like. “We go again.”

Your own hands reach for his arm, blunt nails digging into the flesh of his hand, clawing to pull him away from your clit; it’s too much. You can’t continue. The pleasure is turning painful with the overstimulation. You can’t survive more. Chan is undeterred by your attempts, fingers circling your swollen clit with perfect precision and pressure. 

“Please, Chan! I beg of you!”

“Don’t disobey me now. You’ve been so obedient.” Chan's praise is louder than your protests. “You will give me another.”

“Chan, please!” You cry, tears along your lash line. “It hurts. I can’t.”

“One more. You’ve been the perfect gift tonight. One more and it’s over.”

Your body appeases the vampire. Despite the sensitivity in your clit, another orgasm hits. Your thighs tremble violently, and Hyunjin is forced to tighten his grip on the limbs. He curses to himself as your pussy spasms around his cock again so soon, overwhelming even him. Even with how you thrash, he’s still able to keep driving his cock inside you for the duration of your pleasure. 

True to his word, everything stops. Chan’s fingers retract, and he shakes off your trembling hands from his arm. Hyunjin stills but keeps himself buried inside you, wanting direction from his maker. The moment lets you take stock of your well-being. Your heart pounds, slamming against your rib cage with a force that throbs. Your lungs expand, though you struggle for enough air as you pant. Head to toe, your muscles ache from exhaustion. If the plan was to break you, the vampires succeeded. 

You watch as Chan drags a nail across one of your breasts. The room is silent as blood swells up to the surface of the scratch. He swipes one finger through the streak to cover the pad before bringing it to his lips for a taste. After this whole ordeal, the creatures who survive off blood have finally taken the first drop of your life force. 

There’s a hint of disgust in the elder’s voice. “I wondered what your backup plan was. Is this how you kill your vampires? Dance around in sin, then let them feed on this poison?”

“No.” You shake your head, feigning confusion. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” 

“Come on, hunter.” Hyunjin scoffs; his once giddy self is gone, replaced by a demeanor far more serious than you have witnessed from him. “Did you really think we wouldn’t find out? That word wouldn’t travel?”

“Newborns can’t taste vervain. It’s why the vampires you killed would ingest your blood willingly.” Chan elaborates. “However, for those of us who are older, we can build tolerance.”

Pain erupts from your calf. You glance over in time to witness Hyunjin sinking his fangs into the meat of the muscle, throat bobbing with every mouthful he swallows down. He’s not bothered by the vervain. Instead, his eyes flutter shut, lost in the rush of warm blood. 

“Did you even consider that I would protect my own? Vampire hunters have bounties on their heads. Did you know that?”

Chan’s words hang in the air the longer you watch Hyunjin feed. You strived to have minimal witnesses with every newborn you eliminated over the years. Hell, you don’t even carry a bite mark until now. These two vampires have continued to surprise you with the knowledge they have acquired about you. You must find their source. Bring it to light for the association and church to know. That’s if you can manage to get out of this crypt alive. 

Despite how disadvantaged you were against these two, you held hope. A small candle inside you that was protected at all costs. No matter how your plans shifted or adapted. You were going to evolve the strategy and find a way to be successful. 

The flame is extinguished now. 

“Oh, the actress shows real fear,” Chan coos. An amused smile back on his face. “Will I kill you? Will I make you the very monster you hunted? Or will I keep you and parade you around like the prize you are?”

His words are a facade. All to make you ponder when you already know the answer. He forgets you can recite a majority of his brutality front to back thanks to the lengthy track record of violence. The church owns several books of his destruction. Though clearly not complete by what you learned tonight. 

It’s enough knowledge to know there is a reason you are still breathing, why he’s allowing his fledgling to feed from you, and why he gazes at you with such fondness. Your stomach twists, nausea forming and causing stomach bile to burn the back of your throat. It’s not from the blood loss either. 

“If you were going to kill me, you would have already.”

“Yes,” Chan answers, knuckles caressing your flushed cheek. The touch is so gentle. A husband showing tenderness even if his words are the opposite. “I have no desire to kill you. You’re too much fun to play with.”

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The castle hallways are dim at this hour. Twin rows of torches struggle to throw light down the corridor. Flames sputter against the drafts of wind that seep through cracks in the ancient stone. It causes shadows to dance up vaulted ceilings, stretching across the walls, creating perfect little hiding spots for the monsters that dwell in these walls. Several of the said creatures are always creeping along the stone, drawn to the livestock Chan keeps for his own selfish pleasure. And if you dared to linger on the upper shadows, you might catch the faint gleam of eyes full of bitter anger at their enforced obedience.

Not that you needed the light; you knew exactly where your destination was. You could navigate even without any guidance of flame, for the castle’s maze of passages had long since become second nature to you. Every uneven stone, every worn tapestry showcasing Chan's brutal human conquests brushing against your shoulder was a familiar marker.

Your bare feet make no noise as you rush through the hallway to Chan’s bedroom. He summoned you, and you can’t afford to make him wait. Though it’s more excitement than obedience that drives your pace. Your pulse quickens with each turn, anticipation thrumming louder than the surrounding silence.

“Darling…” Chan coos when you step into the room, his voice dripping with affection. Admiration flickers across his face as he notices the fresh-cut flowers from his garden still woven into your styled hair. “Oh, how pretty you are. I missed dinner, and I didn’t get to see your new dress.”

He had been late in returning home, only now seeking company after washing the journey from himself. A faint trace of rose water clings to him. It’s almost enough to cover the earthly smell reminding you of the very dirt he rose from. He’s not human and has not been for many years. 

There’s something unsettling about it. A monster in the shape of a man: no heartbeat, no breathing, a speed swifter than most animals, and strength without limits. You should fear him, flee from this place, do anything to stay away. 

Instead, you cross the room in quick strides, eager to be in his hold after being apart for so long. “You would have just ruined it.”

“I can’t help it.” He replies, sharp fangs peeking out while the vampire smiles. He’s in a good mood tonight. Playful, you would even say. “What a pretty color they used on your lips too.”

Your arms snake around Chan’s neck once comfortable in his lap. “I thought you might like the darker color.”

“Hmm, I do. Reminds me of blood.” The creature has nothing but more smiles for you. It only falters when you pout. “What is troubling you?”

“I missed you.”

“I’m sorry, my dear,” he answers, placing a chaste kiss against your forehead. “I was caught up because we had a guest arrive after me. Lord Minho has traveled a long way to visit us. All the way from the north.”

A glance over your shoulder reveals another creature in the room you didn’t see when you first entered. He sits casually on the couch across from Chan, fingers mindlessly tapping on the arm. His head tilts, curious as you take him in. The embers from the fireplace dance across his face, illuminating a captivating sight. 

Handsome, you think. From his arched eyebrows, wide cheekbones, and the feline eyes searching yours with a familiar expression of hunger. Chan has the same look when returning home from his long trips. 

Chan’s plush lips brush against your ear. “I don’t want to be a poor host. Will you take care of him for me?”

“Of course.” You answer, not breaking eye contact with Minho. “Whatever he needs. He's your guest.”

“This is why you’re my favorite little plaything.” Chan playfully bops the end of your nose with his finger, stirring you from the hypnotizing gaze. “Always so good for me.”

With a light pat on your hip from Chan, you detangle your entwined limbs to stand back on your feet. Minho sits up straighter, still not speaking a word as he waits for you to close the distance. Even as subtly as he tries to be, you don’t miss the way the tip of his tongue runs over one of his elongated fangs. He’s been waiting to feed. 

“Darling?”

“Yes, sire?” You halt your steps, half turning to face Chan. 

His voice is firmer now, more commanding. “Take your silks off for me. I want to see my art.”

You don’t hesitate, reaching for the tie holding your robe around your body. A harsh tug undoes the simple knot, allowing you to slip the satin fabric down and off your body to the floor. There’s no shame coursing through you at being completely nude to the clothed vampires. Maybe when you first arrived here, but now you have only compliance with the leader. No, the feelings swirling inside are fonder than that. Though it may never truly be akin to love. 

“You use her well.” Minho compliments you while taking in your naked form. 

He’s referring to the bite marks littered across your skin. Head to toe, some old and some new. You consider them decorative. A sign Chan can never get enough of you. Being the first choice of his blood supply means he calls on you the most. Though he forces himself to give you breaks when your body requires them. Even ‌selfish as he is, he refuses to let your health suffer. 

Chan lets out an amused chuckle. “I’m not supposed to have favorites, but how can I not?”

The words give you a confident boost, not even hesitating when Minho extends a hand to you. No, you will comply with whatever demands are asked of you. Chan never shares you with another. Whoever this Minho is, he means a lot to him, and the last thing you will do is disappoint him. 

Your knees slot on either side of the vampire’s hips before letting your weight rest on his wide thighs. The sweet voice you always put on for Chan remains. “It’s so nice to meet you, Lord Minho. How are you liking it here in the south? Warmer?”

Without hesitation, his icy hands find your thighs. He softly trails his palms up to your hips to adjust you on top of him. “It’s very warm. I quite like it. The people seem so kind here.”

“Oh, I’m sorry. I’m distracting you.” You say while tilting your head to the side. Both of your arms fold behind your back out of instinct thanks to Chan’s repetitive conditioning. “Is this alright, or would you prefer something else?”

“This is perfect.”

Minho’s movements are quick like a snake. You blinked, and he lunged forward to sink his fangs with ease into your neck. Fresh blood spills into his mouth, and his arms shift to tighten around you, keeping you immobilized like the little prey you are. A rush of adrenaline follows, racing through your whole body. The risk of death is always there with every feeding session you endure. You hope tonight won’t be your last, that your favoritism will keep you around for a few more years.  

You have your answer when Chan clicks his tongue a few moments later. Minho immediately retracts his fangs, his tongue now pressing flat against the wounds, waiting for the blood to clot. 

Chan sired this vampire. That kind of obedience is very telling; he respects his maker with complete devotion. 

“You sit like a stone.” Minho remarks once he’s able to pull away. “I think you deserve a reward.”

You don’t say a word, nothing of gratitude or reassurance to stop him. Instead, you allow Minho to slip a hand between your thighs. He cups your pussy gently, fingers ghosting over your hole. One of his eyebrows raises in suspicion before commenting on how wet you already are. “Oh, you enjoy the bites that much? Or are you just trained well?”

You moan at the intrusive fingers and at how easily two slide inside you, diving in and out. “I need to be prepared for whatever he desires.”

“Well, aren’t you a delicious dream?”

His fingers aren’t as long as Chan’s but still curl in search of the gummy spot inside of you. Your eyelids flutter shut temporarily to focus on getting your response out. “Better in here with him than out there against him.”

“Hmm,” Minho practically purrs at your remark. “If only my city folk understood this.”

“Teach them then.” Chan's voice comes from right behind you. You freeze in place once an icy hand wraps around your throat. The sharp tips of his nails prick against your soft skin. Too tight of a hold and you might lose your head. He squeezes lightly when speaking again. “Force them into compliance.”

“I will.” Minho responds, and the discussion ends. 

It’s a conversation not for your ears. Nor is it your job to think about such matters. No, it’s sitting here and fulfilling whatever Chan wishes tonight. You don’t need to think, don’t need to worry, and need only to obey. 

“You should have brought your new human.” Chan says while his free hand cups one of your breasts. He kneads the soft flesh before moving to tease the hardening nipple. “Felix is his name? We could have had them play. Could have watched them.”

Minho’s fingers stop briefly as if lost in the daydream. “Unfortunately, I don’t think he’s ready to socialize. He’s shy.”

“A pity.” Chan’s hand holding your neck moves to join the other. He rolls ‌both nipples between his fingers to pinch, completely ignoring the small whine slipping past your lips. “She would have treated him well.”

“Next time.”

As the conversation ends, the only sound in the room is the wet squelching coming from your pussy. Minho progressed to three fingers now, scissoring them while they sink in and out to prepare you for a cock. His other hand moves to join, though this one finds your clit to tease. His touch is gentle, just enough attention to build on that high you can feel approaching. 

“Sire, may I…?” you ask, head falling back against Chan’s shoulder. Your words trail off as you teeter dangerously on the edge of holding back your orgasm. All this attention on your body is too much at once. Minho’s hands are devilish while Chan continues to tease your breasts. 

Out of your peripheral sight, Chan smiles at the desperation. His voice is sickeningly sweet. “Of course. It’s a reward.”

A delicious orgasm comes a handful of seconds later. Your entire body feels on fire with the way pleasure sears through you. It’s toe-curling and strong enough to cause your eyes to roll back. The fresh gush of wetness makes all of Minho's actions that much easier for him. It’s relentless, impossible to escape from even with your hips jerking away. You have to endure. It’s so overwhelming that you almost don’t notice Chan’s touch disappearing. 

After what feels like a lifetime, Minho finally relents in his teasing. Now, bringing his fingers to his lips, licking off all the wetness that coats them. When nothing but saliva remains, he wipes his hands down your front like you were nothing more than a napkin. It’s degrading, a reminder of how low on the food chain you really are, but you still thank Minho anyway. 

That smirk returns when hearing your appreciation. His hands now rest at his sides. 

“I don't know what’s more delicious. Your blood or that cunt of yours.”

You don’t get to reply. 

A light shove against the square of your back forces you to fall forward against Minho’s frame. Your hands scramble over his shoulders to find your balance, reaching for fistfuls of his freshly pressed shirt. The shifted angle keeps you more on your knees with your slicked pussy on display for Chan. 

There’s no attempt to straighten out. You remain exactly ‌where you were placed, in complete obedience as suspense continues to bubble inside ‌you. Even your body reacts. Your pussy clenches around nothing with a desire that you know only one of them can satisfy. 

Will it be Minho? That’s what you expect with Chan’s hospitality. Or, your stomach twists in a fit of excitement; will it be Chan who takes your first? Right here with Minho under you, forced to watch, and waiting to be allowed a turn? 

Chan smacks your still-too-sensitive pussy with a firm palm. “Such a good little whore. He barely played with you, and here you are dripping down onto his clothes.”

Minho gives a hum of approval. His response was just as playful. “You should apologize to me.”

The post-orgasm haze keeps your words shaky. “I–I’m sorry, Minho.”

“Is that all it takes, darling?” Chan asks. “One orgasm and you forget all your manners?”

The word "yes" was your only reply. Though the glossy look in your eyes would be enough of an answer if he could see it. Though he prefers to bully the answer out of you, forcing you to admit it from your own lips. It feeds his growing ego, keeps him happy, and makes him more likely to reward you. 

“He doesn’t even need to fuck you stupid for your head to empty.” Chan continues to taunt. His hand returns to your wet pussy, running along the slit. Back and forth, coating his fingers. “Don’t worry, little human. He's going to take good care of you to make sure all remaining thoughts leave.”

It’s then that Chan holds your slit open and the blunt head of Minho's cock prods at your hole. You didn’t even notice when the vampire freed his cock. Didn’t even hear the rustling of clothing. Only the sudden pressure from the girth. He thrusts his hips up slowly, sinking inch after inch of his thick cock into your cunt till the hilt. 

Chan’s hand leaves, allowing Minho to slowly drag his cock out to the very tip before repeating the cycle. It’s an agonizingly slow fucking, not meant for your pleasure. No, it’s meant to tease, to frustrate you when you know what a vampire is more than capable of. He wants you to crave his cock, to ask for it, to beg for more from him. 

What Minho doesn’t understand is how accustomed you are to this game. The first few weeks in Chan’s home were filled with his mind games. Forced orgasms until there were no tears left in your eyes, edging to the point your throat was sore from pleading, and then still denying you until he saw fit. You have endured plenty of challenges, and this is no skin off your back. 

You may not have much power here, and yet that doesn’t stop you from giving the pair what they want. With a slight shift of your head, your lips brush Minho’s ear, allowing you the perfect opportunity to let him enjoy all your little breathy gasps every time his cock hits the deepest spot inside of you. 

The response is instant. Minho lets out a low groan, reverberating deep in his chest. “What delicious sounds you make.”

“Mhm. Doesn’t care who hears her. I think she likes it. She wants everyone to know who my whore is.” Chan’s touch returns with the pads of his fingers running along your spine. It’s reminiscent of the nights after playing where he lies with you until you fall asleep. It’s so gentle and comforting, even if his words don’t match the energy. “You should hear her filthy mouth when she begs for my cock. Even if I just let her sit on it for hours. Always so fucking grateful too.”

Minho lets out a laugh. “Insatiable little thing, aren’t you?”

“It’s how things should be.” Chan’s hand slips around your frame, pressing lightly on your stomach. “Sit back straight, darling.”

When Chan’s content with your compliance, his hand trails further down. You cry out at the sudden stimulation against your swollen clit. The pressure of his fingers is firm. Chan’s not looking to be sweet here; no, he wants you to be overwhelmed. He wants you to come around Minho’s cock and take you into the depths of oversensitivity. Perhaps to the familiar point of tears streaking down your cheeks while continuing to ride a cock. He always relishes that sight like a favorite pastime. 

“Chan, wait. Chan.” Your voice changes octaves, climbing higher the more desperate you become. He knows your body well, completely memorized in what ways will push that rush of pleasure to peak sooner.

“Don’t fight it.” He growls into your ear. His words are a reminder of who has the control. “You will come as many times as I request. No less, darling.”

Another orgasm rushes over you, sending mind-numbing pleasure from your core outward through your limbs. Your entire body shudders with the high quickly dying out, and yet your pussy continues to try to milk the cock inside you for a release that’ll never come. Vampires have far better control holding back, and you doubt Minho will be allowed to cum inside you. 

The pads of Chan’s fingers now slow down to something slow and molten. You can’t fight the pathetic whine of oversensitivity. How can he expect you to handle more of this? Minho still drives his cock up, deeper and deeper, while you're trapped with these teasing fingers. Doesn’t he understand? The only thing holding you up is the firm chest of his against your back. 

“Should we attempt both of us?” Chan goads while his fingers shift. One finger prods at your hole. The digit curls, sliding in next to Minho’s cock, shallowly working in and out at its own pace against Minho’s movement. You whimper at the stretch, at the thought of two cocks fighting to sink inside you. You want it, or maybe you don’t. Minho’s cock is already too much to handle, and then Chan’s girth as well? You don’t need to see Chan’s amused smile; you can hear it in his voice. “Perhaps another night then.”

And like a dying wind, Chan is suddenly gone. The dark presence moves somewhere else in the room, and Minho is free to play with you how he wants. His thick, muscular thighs that nearly outshine Chan’s shift to spread your knees even wider now that he has more freedom of range to fuck up into you. 

“Come on now, Minho.” Chan speaks up with annoyance in his tone. “Make her work for it. You are a guest after all.”

The command halts Minho’s movement immediately. You fight the strain already in your tired muscles to bounce on his cock. Both of your thighs flex as you ride him hard on the couch, the cushions sinking under the weight.

Vampires never care for sweet lovemaking unless catering to their humans. Minho is further proof of that now, letting out his own filthy moans. His hands grip your hips with an iron hold, guiding your rhythm to the pace he wants. Your pussy continues to clench around his thick shaft with every downward thrust, and more slick sounds fill the room as you grind your clit against his pelvis. 

“There’s my sweet girl.” Chan praises you. “Like her damn life depends on it.”

And some nights it does. You push that thought away, focusing on the way Minho sinks further into the plush padding of the couch. His eyes trailing from your face down to where your breasts jostle from the exertion. Or maybe the creature is watching how your heart pounds in your chest cavity, teasing him for another bite of sweet blood. He knows he can’t, not without his maker’s approval. That denial only makes you ride him faster. 

“You really were made to get used, weren’t you? To be stuffed full of cock every night.” You moan in response to Chan’s words. He chuckles before continuing. “So shameless, so fucking pathetic. You can’t even deny it. Not when all you can think about is more cock.”

The sloppier your moves get, the more the monster in front of you grows bored with your human stamina. This wasn’t enough; he’s craving something deeper and more in control, as these beasts always do with their power. 

With a low growl, Minho sits up, wrapping his arms around your waist, and in a flash of movement, your sweaty back meets the rug in the middle of the room. You gasped in surprise, but Minho refused to give even a second to grip your bearings. His firm hands search blindly for your legs, shifting the limbs up and back, folding you beneath him until your very knees brush your shoulders. His cock, still buried inside you, drives in with renewed determination now, the new angle letting him slam against your cervix with each powerful stroke.

Minho continues to pound into your pussy relentlessly, the mating press locking you in place as he ruts his hips like a desperate animal trying to breed. Your body accepts it; your walls continue to spasm around him in response. The flames from the fireplace cause the look of amusement plastered on his face to be far more menacing. There are no good intentions behind it. Just eyes glued to your shocked expression as it morphs into one of disbelief at how deep he can bury his cock in this position. 

“Minho, please.” You beg, not sure for what. For him to slow down his pace? Another orgasm for your spent body? Could you even come again? Your nails dug into the fabric of his shirt. The strain on the material is already pulling at the fragile threads holding the seam together. One more harsh tug from you and you’ll tear his shirt.  

“Now darling, you can handle it.” Chan’s voice travels around you as if he’s circling the sight in front of him. “Be good now. It’s no different from how I take you.”

Your eyes search for Chan, finally finding him back on his couch, sitting with his back straight and legs crossed. That smug smile is still on his lips as he watches Minho’s hips continue to snap aggressively against you unwaveringly. 

His creation with his favorite plaything. All of his pride and joy in front of him in one room. He gets the luxury of basking in the sweet, desperate sounds as you cling to the other vampire with all your might.  

“Minho, do you know why I love vampire hunters so much?” Chan maintains his eye contact with you, intense with the heat of the sun itself. That kind of hunger for you is enough to send you over the edge. It’s what he wants; there’s no reason to deny him. However, the all consuming bliss drowns out your senses, preventing you from truly comprehending the words leaving his cruel lips. “They make such fabulous pets, don’t they?”

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