#skz reference

Wind whipped across my face, surely leaving lesions of red on my nose and cheeks. I couldn’t tell if the overwhelming saltiness in my mouth was from my tears, or the endless expanse of ocean in front of me, spraying its treacherous waves mockingly in my direction. I watched my breath come out in wisps, reminding me of the chill settling deep within my bones. Looking up, the moon looked especially beautiful tonight, but she brought no solace, no peace, as she illuminated the first sprinkle of snow. 

This dream never made sense to me. It never revealed much of its intention, but I guess now it wasn’t just a dream. Now, I stood exactly where I always stood on those winter nights and yet, it feels almost like I’m not here at all. Maybe I’m not, or at least, my soul is not. He took that along with my heart and only a rosary was left in its place. As if that simple item could replace his voice in my ear and his hands along my back. As if it could replace the feeling of his eyes reaching into mine and pulling me into that beautiful abyss he was…

⋆˚꩜ ✮ ₊˚⊹˚𖦹⋆

HELLOOOOOO THERE :D

I am working on a new story because I finally have inspiration again (still working on Oh, Little Birdy, sorry guys). I'm not going to give a lot away for this story because I want things to slowly be revealed (and I luvvvvv some good cliffhangers). I'm not for sure on when chapter 1 will be out, but hopefully soon! For now, enjoy the mass number of tags and this small portion of my imagination. ;)

• If you would like to be added to the taglist, pls comment! •

It was late in the evening now, the sun having set hours ago. The book sat unopened and unlocked on my table. I sat on the end of my bed; a purring Pebbles perched in my lap. My heart sat in my throat, restricting my breathing. I couldn’t take my eyes off of the journal, but I couldn’t open it either. The chains sat next to the leather book, meticulously placed beside one another.

The lantern cast a shadow of my silhouette over the book; my body having moved on its own to stand over it. My fingers glide along the front, lightly scratching the dark leather. I could hear my heart pounding in my ears as I slowly sat down. This could reveal everything or nothing, and that thought was terrifying. I slowly gripped the cover, preparing to open it.

I flinched at the sound of wind whipping across my windowpane. Peaking outside, I noticed that the ocean had become rowdy and the wind had suddenly picked up. It had been a beautiful day so the weather was a little unusual. I was expecting a calm night.

“That’s strange, isn’t it Pebble.”

Shutting my curtains, I sit back down at the table. Surprisingly, that little scare had calmed my nerves some. This was just my fathers journal, there was nothing that could be that shocking. Pebble hops onto the table, sniffing the journal before taking disinterest and lying down. Taking a deep breath, I flip open the journal to the first page.

Pebbles refused to be near me after the first five pages. I couldn't blame her, I was hysterical. I could feel my hair sticking out in odd angles, my hands having been run through it far too many times. Not caring for an updo anymore, I allow the strands to fall freely. I keep shutting the book and reopening it, hoping that maybe I was the one that lost their mind.

Werewolves, Banshees, Fairies, Ghosts, Reapers, Selkies, Mermaids, Witches; all titles that littered the top of each page. Research and information regarding these creatures was three to four pages long. I wanted to believe he was crazy, that he had gone insane in that huge house while waiting for my mother. But, the information was too specific, as if he had done this research on his own encounters. Although, I don’t understand how that could be, seeing as these creatures do not exist.

Running my hand through my hair again, I recall my father talking about legends around Europe and in multiple other countries that spoke of witches and werewolves. When Christianity started to rise, there was a hysteria that spread everywhere over ‘supernaturals’, my father had called them. I remember there being another one and he would call them the big three, but it wasn’t coming to me at the moment, and it was the least of my worries.

Flipping through it again, I notice how some of the pages seem revisited, their pages more worn and much more filled with information. Selkies was circled at the top of its page and five pages of information followed it. It was some of the most interesting information I had ever read, my fathers eloquence flowing throughout the writing. I can’t help but allow a watery smile to breach my concerned expression. He had always had a knack for writing, how I wished I could’ve talked to him more about it as I shared the same passion.

Flipping the last page of the selkies, I’m greeted with two blank pages. Blinking, confusion works its way onto my face. Did he not get to finish the journal? Am I supposed to finish it? At that last thought, I shudder. There’s no way I could go out and hunt down these creatures just to get information on them. I don’t even know how he made it out alive, some of the information considerably personal.

I’m about to close the journal and think about everything I’ve discovered, when I’m stopped by a weird feeling. Why would he give me an unfinished journal? It didn’t make any sense as I stood staring at the blank page. Leaning down, I notice something through the thin parchment. Flipping it one more time, I’m met with one word in the middle of the page,

Vampires

My throat runs dry, my eyes widening slightly. That had been the other one my father spoke about. Arguably one of the scariest creatures I had ever heard of. They were so elusive, hardly ever being caught by humans. Skulking throughout the night, the thirst for human blood fresh on their tongues. They were immortal, forever roaming the earth as long as it exists.

My father always made sure to lock my window extra tight at night, just in case. For the first few years of my life, he would even make me wear a rosary when I slept. I always deemed it foolish to believe in such creatures, having never experienced the previous hysteria. Now, I feel rather vulnerable in my small cottage out by the sea, and the current weather does nothing to ease my tension.

Turning to the next page, I’m met with drawings and information regarding each part of the vampire. They are extremely detailed, as if they could jump right off of the page. There are terms I don’t understand as I flip through, but I get the jist of what my father wrote about.

“How did you find out so much? Why did you focus so much on vampires?”

My voice is just an echo of the many thoughts running through my head. Each page rewards new information with little to no explanation on how that conclusion was reached. I find drawings of teeth, each one listed out to the side. There are dark silhouettes with possible names by them, each one symbolizing something, or someone, he must’ve seen.

I’m enamored by the extreme detail my father applied to his research. I stay on each page, my eyes roaming every stroke of his quill. There’s so much to learn and I can't even comprehend any of it right now. That is, until I flip to the next page. At the top, the words ‘The Beginning’ sits ominously. Underneath it is a list of names, but they’ve been scribbled out to almost nothing but a black blotch. I can barely make out some letters, but there’s one name not scribbled out.

Kim Seok-jin

“Kim Seok-jin.”

It sounded unfamiliar as I whispered it to myself, the syllables heavy on my tongue. He was at the top of the list, a large number displayed right beside his title. My father had found one of, or the, original vampire. The rest must've gone in order of turning or something, but I couldn't read those at the moment. The knowledge sits heavy in my chest, my hands shaking as I flip to the next page, ‘Impersonation’.

A well established vampire will be very well integrated into a community of its choice. They will be a pillar of the community; a well established businessman, a priest, a producer of food, a fisherman, a shop keeper, anything that makes them a pivotal role within the place they choose to reside. They are equipped with charisma, charming any of those they meet. You will feel inexplicably drawn to them, unable to keep yourself away. Watch their eyes when you speak of certain words, their power fluctuates and that is when you will be able to see their true nature. Beware of the original seven, they are the most powerful and the most dangerous. A drop of their blood within a human is all that is needed to turn one into a night stalker. They have evolved to stay outside and not be adverse to holy water or silver. Crosses do not have any effect on them, their power keeping them safe from most tactics of security. The only thing saving you is taking precaution and never, ever inviting them into your abode. Whatever you do, do not engage with the originals, or you may never escape.

The lantern is slowly flickering out, the word ‘escape’ stretching along the page, as if it’s reaching for a way out of its now permanent state. Cold sweat drips down my neck, gliding between my shoulder blades and down my spine. I can’t blink, afraid that if I do, I may never believe myself. My fingers grip the page, preparing for the next parchment of text. Before I can comprehend what’s on that page, a knock resounds at my door.

I whip around, knocking the lantern on the floor, effectively shattering it and turning out the light. I’m left with nothing but my shadow and the strip of moonlight peaking between my curtains. The wind is much louder now accompanied by rain pounding on my walls and roof. My eyes are trained on the door, listening for another knock, but nothing comes. The silence stretches on, the only sound within the small cottage is my labored breathing.

Then, another knock resounds. It’s firm in its three raps along the wooden door. I hesitate before taking slow steps towards the entryway. My heart is pounding out of my chest, my eyes wild as I attempt to take in more light to see. Resting my hands on the door, I swallow the bile in my throat and take a moment to listen again. There isn’t a single noise, nothing that would signal another human outside my door.

“Who is it?”

I immediately clear my throat, my voice coming out rougher than I had expected. There’s a shuffle on the other side of the door, the only sound I had heard yet.

“It’s Jungkook, Miss. I am terribly sorry to bother you at this hour, but I’m afraid I’m in need of a little assistance.”

I almost collapsed against the door in relief. Of course, I was being overly paranoid and assumed the worst. How could I be afraid of people I’ve known for so long? Taking a moment to calm myself, I survey my house. The lantern is knocked over, glass littering the floor, but I could clean that up later. The rest of the house was relatively clean, though I don’t know why I’m worrying about that at this time.

“Miss?”

I’m shaken out of my thinking, remembering the man behind my door. Unlatching the door, I’m almost blown off my feet by the amount of wind and rain that bombards me. I fall back behind the door for a moment, waiting for the weather to calm. Swinging myself back around, I’m faced with a sight.

Jungkook stands on my stoop, drenched to the bone. His hand is up, ready to knock again. Wide eyes stare at mine through drenched bangs. He smiles that all too familiar boyish grin, nervousness lacing it. The shirt he wears is ripped open, his skin glistening with rain water and what looks to be blood. I then notice the grimace he wears and how his breathing is too light, too quick.

“Good gods what happened, hun?”

He huffs at the nickname, placing his raised hand on his side under his shirt. I watch his abs twitch as he flinches at the contact.

“Thought I’d be fine heading out on the water when a storm hit out of nowhere. My boat wrecked and I got caught on one of those rocks before I washed up on shore.”

I sigh at that, shaking my head at him in an almost disappointed manner. Sure, I didn’t expect the storm either, but he shouldn’t be out at this hour in a boat anyway. He already had a scar on his lip from another accident involving him going out at night, that time I had patched him up on the beach. It wasn’t nearly as dangerous out at that time.

“You need to be more careful, Jungkook, it’s not safe to go out at night, no matter the weather.”

I almost felt bad lecturing him, especially when he turned away with a pout. I spotted the scar then, on the corner of his bottom lip, still slightly pink. He was cute, too cute sometimes. All of the ladies in the village allowed him to get away with anything simply because all he had to do was flash a smile and they were blinded. A crash of thunder suddenly came from behind him, shaking my entire house.

Stepping back, I assume Jungkook will follow me in, but he stops abruptly. His hand slams into the top of the doorframe, visibly straining as the veins slowly appear along his forearm. We lock eyes and I notice his breathing is much deeper now, as if he can’t get enough air in. Jungkook looks like he’s waiting on something, his body straining against the doorframe until that something is relinquished. I keep my eyes locked on his, the words coming out before I can stop myself.

“What are you doing? Come in.”

At that moment, I realized that it wasn’t the suncatcher that caught Jimin's eyes, nor was he just being polite by standing in my doorway. The words I was warned against are out of my mouth before I can stop them and Jungkook’s eyes are flashing a deep violet. There is no trick of the light at this moment, the moon now covered and my lantern completely out. I feel my lips begin to crack from being parted in shock, my eyes never leaving his face.

He stumbles in, the door swinging shut behind him. For a moment, we’re both silent, him staring down at the floor as he catches his breath, and me taking slow steps back. I stop the moment he rises to his full height. His eyes are lidded as he watches me through his bangs, his gaze predatory. I’m now a rabbit caught in one of his meticulous traps.

Jungkook takes a step towards me, then another, and then another. I match his steps, instead going backwards away from him. Our eyes never leave each other, locked in a heated match. The steps are slow, calculated. The only problem is, I never cleaned up my lantern. The moment that fact comes back to me, it’s already too late.

I’m slipping backwards, my arms flailing as I attempt to grab onto something. Jungkook processes I’m falling, but his movements are sluggish when he reaches for me. I land behind the lantern mess but a stray piece of glass catches my hand. Howling in pain, I roll to the side and clutch it to my chest. My vision is blurry, the weight of everything coming crashing down. I try to move, my body rendered useless as I barely crane my neck to see Jungkook.

He’s standing over me, a strange look in his eyes. Our breathing is labored, unsynced as we stare at each other, my gaze much more lidded. I blink and then he’s hovering over me, his arms on either side of my head and his knees locking mine into place under him.

“We can both help each other. I just need to see your hand.”

His voice is hoarse as he whispers into our shared space. I can almost feel the vibration of it when I take a deep breath, our chests knocking together. His clothes are cold, dripping down onto my thin dress and seeping into my already chilled skin.

“Please, I promise I can help, bunny. Please, just let me see it.”

Jungkook is begging, the man that gets handed anything at the bat of his eyes, is begging. His eyes are pleading, trained on my no doubt pain contorted face. What I think is a tear is just Jungkook's hair dripping onto my face. I blink up at him, weighing my options. I don’t think he’d intentionally hurt me, but I also don’t know how good his control is. How long has it been since he’s had blood? How long has he been a vampire?

I slowly peel my hand from my chest, feeling the blood stick to my clothing. He instinctively comes closer, smelling the fresh wound. I pause for a moment, but before I can retract my hand, Jungkook’s fingers circle my wrist. Suddenly, my vision unblurs and I get a clear view of his face.

He’s watching me, my hand pressed to his nose as he takes a deep breath in. I feel him shudder against me, his clothes now drenching my front. The glass didn’t stay in my hand, doing its diligence of cutting my skin before disappearing somewhere. Jungkook takes note of that, his eyes turning a deep violet. My breath hitches at the unnatural color. My father would probably come out from hiding if he found out I was in this position now.

My thoughts completely stop when I feel his tongue lick a stripe across my palm. I jolt back at the strange feeling, but Jungkook holds me in place as he continues to lick the wound. His eyes are brighter now, practically glowing as he watches me squirm. I can’t look away from the obscene sight in front of me. Blood is dripping down his chin and onto my bodice, effectively staining it. Looking closely, I see his fangs poking out from behind his red stained lips.

I flinch away again once I see the incisors. Jungkook grumbles, locking me into place with his glare. My body suddenly feels tingly, my muscles untensing slowly. I crane my neck away from him, attempting to get in control of myself again. Suddenly, the stinging in my hand is replaced with only the feeling of his tongue on my skin. I’m not chilled by his drenched clothing anymore, my body heating up unnaturally.

“Stop squirming, bunny. It’s almost over I promise.”

It’s all too much, my senses are heightened to something I’ve never felt before. I feel every part of him, my body shuddering with each lap of his tongue. The scent of him is overwhelming, a mix of the ocean and something woody. My head becomes dizzy, but my words are gone. My other hand isn’t trapped by him, so I bring it to his chest, pushing slightly to try and communicate my dilemma. He flexes as my fingertips lightly scratch from his pecs to his belly, barely hanging onto my consciousness.

Jungkook suddenly stops, his hand not holding my wrist coming to turn my eyes to him. I notice out of the corner of my vision that he’s dropped down to his elbow. His hand thumbs my bottom lip, an action to get me to look at him. My movements are sluggish as I finally turn my eyes to his. They’re still glowing, swimming with a magic I had yet to understand. His chin and lips are covered in my blood, his tongue peeking out to lick them every few seconds.

“I know it feels weird, but I promise it will wear off. I didn’t want you to feel any pain.”

I nod numbly, not really registering what he’s saying. Jungkook grins at that, his hand moving to cradle the back of my neck and tilting my head towards his. He stares at me for a while, humming when he finds what he was looking for. I feel his thumb come around to rest on my neck, applying light pressure to feel my pulse. His gaze changes then, the violet in his eyes shifting to blue.

“Is this what you look like all fucked out, sweetie?”

His voice is soft yet deep, a tone I’ve never heard from him. My brows furrow and I try to push him with my hand again. This time, he moves back and pulls me up with him. We’re sitting up on the floor now; my head cradled to his chest while he scratches the back of my neck. The hand that was holding my wrist now rests on the small of my back. I’m trying to catch my breath and gather my thoughts but I’m struggling when Jungkook has his hands all over me.

“What the fuck, Jungkook? What did you do to me?”

My voice sounds horrible, as if I’ve been screaming nonstop. He tucks me closer to him, digging his face into the side of my neck. I feel him inhale before he speaks.

“I injected a little bit of venom when you flinched away. I was worried I was hurting you and I don’t like seeing you in pain. The effects are short, I promise. I’m so sorry, bunny, I didn’t want you to find out like this. I know I lost control, I’m so-”

Tears fall onto my shoulder, effectively cutting himself off as he starts to sob. Both hands encircle my waist as he squeezes me to him. I find my muscles to be tight but working when I bring my arms around his shoulders. He’s babbling into my shoulder, muffling himself by accident. I pat the back of his head, resting my cheek on my own arm as my head still feels heavy.

“It’s okay, it’s okay. I promise you didn’t hurt me; I was just scared. You didn’t tell me what you were doing, and I had never felt that way before. Your secret is safe with me, it’s okay.”

He nods as he sniffles, his cries turning to soft hiccups. He pulls back from me, and we come face to face again. I notice his eyes are back to normal and his fangs have disappeared. Jungkook takes my wounded hand out from behind his head and displays it to me. Where there is supposed to be a large gash, a small pink line sits. I sit in wonder, trying to comprehend how it’s healed.

“I told you we could help each other.”

At that, I glanced down to where his wound was, finding flawless skin. I run my fingers along his abdomen, his giggles ringing in my ear. Was this the power my father wrote about? I recall on one of the pages he spoke of how some vampires will have a specific power to them. Was Jungkook’s power healing? That would explain how he never got injured, or if he did, he healed extremely well. Does that healing extend to others? It must if my hand was now perfectly fine.

“Why did I need to help you on the beach that night?”

There’re so many questions I want to ask, but that’s the only one that comes out. Jungkook rubs the back of his neck, looking away nervously. He’s avoiding my gaze, carefully thinking about his answer. I keep my eyes trained on him, not letting up. He takes a peek back at me and immediately looks away again, sucking his teeth.

“I, uh, I can’t really explain everything, but at that time, I wasn’t exactly what I am now.”

So, he was new. That explains why his control wasn’t very good. That also means he shouldn’t be a part of the original seven, but Jimin could be. I need to be much more careful about who I trust and who I invite in. I was lucky that Jungkook had a small amount of control and a good soul. Wait, did vampires have souls?

“So, you were, well, normal during that time. Were you turned soon after that?”

Jungkook only nods his head, bowed down to look at the ground. He looks like a kicked puppy, and I can't help but find it adorable. Poor thing, he’s probably supposed to follow strict rules, and he most likely broke them. I sigh and run my hand down my face, exhausted from the recent events. Looking around, I spot the book on the table. An idea pops into my head at the sight of the worn journal.

“Let’s make a deal, hun. Your secret is safe with me as long as you don’t tell the vampire that turned you, or any vampires for that matter, that I know.”

He looks up curiously at that.

“You’re not scared? You swear you won’t tell anyone? I promise I won’t tell them, no matter what!”

I giggle as he turns from scared too enthusiastic. He reminds me so much of a cute puppy, I can’t help but pat his head with a smile. I slowly start to stand up and he’s immediately by my side helping. Everything is a little tilted for a moment but I’m quick to recover. Before Jungkook can look, I slide my hand over the book and shut it. That’s a secret just for me.

“I’m glad we can agree. Also, what did you mean by that earlier? Before I pushed you back?”

Jungkook tilts his head at that, confusion written all over his face. He blinks at me, wracking his brain for what I could be talking about.

“I’m sorry, bunny, but I don’t remember much after you cut your hand. When I came to, we were sitting up and I started crying.”

My mouth parts in shock as I register his words. He didn’t remember a single thing between those two moments. Is that the effects of when a vampire loses control, they have blanks in their memory? If his power is too much for him and he isn’t used to it, I can see how it might affect him.

Jungkook is still looking at me, worry in his deep brown eyes. I give him a small smile and start my walk to my father's trunk. Propping it open, I dig through it until I produce what I’m looking for. Pulling out an old pair of pants and a shirt that my father had sent, I turned back to Jungkook.

The beach always held a special place in my heart. The waves crashing against my clouded mind, sand settling on my bare skin like a blanket. My mother used to take me whenever our days were not busy and the sun was shining. She used to tell me that the sea was a part of me, deep within my blood. She was right in a way; it was the only thing that aided me when I needed to relax. I only wish I had asked her what she meant by that.

The sun was just starting to rise, barely peaking over the still, blue water. Droplets of light danced along the current, following the melody of morning. I rested my head on my knees as I took in the scenery around me. Raising my hand in front of me, I notice that there isn’t even a scar anymore. I wish to think that last night was a horrible night terror, but I know it’s impossible when the subject of said terror is right beside me.

Jungkook was leaning back on his hands, closed eyes up to the sky and a light smile on his face. Looking at him like this, in the glow of the morning sun, I notice just how eerily perfect he is. To think that he was supernatural before would have been absurd, but now I’m noticing just how different he is. My father had been right about the undeniable pull they have, it’s why I can’t stop myself from inviting them in.

The problem is, why didn’t Jimin take advantage of the opportunity? He has access to my house now and I willingly invited him in, so why doesn’t he just use that for his gain? I want to believe he is still the good man that I have always believed he is, but it’s hard now that I know an undeniable truth. Although, he has never posed a danger to me, always helping and going out of his way to bring me new things from the capital.

I know Jungkook has recently turned, so maybe Jimin is older. That would explain why he has much more control and hasn't freaked out over blood. There’s been many times I've gotten papercuts around Jimin or stabbed myself with a needle when he comes to pick up his suits. Never once has he given me any indication of his involvement, but now I can’t help but mull over all the times he might've given me a sign and I didn't notice. I’ve been sighing a lot lately, my mind never at rest.

The sun has risen more now, warming my nose first and then spreading to the rest of my face. Jungkook hums at the warmth and I can’t help but wonder if he ever misses the feeling of being human. Does he miss being warm, miss the beating of his own heart? Suddenly, I’m sad at the thought of him never being human again. I just hope he will learn to adjust to the new life he has been given and appreciate the newfound power he has.

“I should probably head back. We’re taking another trip out to the forest today and I haven't packed at all.”

He’s looking at me now, waiting for my reaction. I’m slow to respond, exhausted from a sleepless night. I hadn’t allowed him to go home, instead offering him the bed and making myself a pallet on the floor. Jungkook tried to argue but I had insisted, stating I would feel better that way. Eventually, he gave in and I laid on the floor wide awake the entire night.

“Of course, please be careful out there, or, uh, I guess you don’t really need to be but still, I hope it goes well.”

He chuckles at that as he gets up and dusts his pants off. A shoot a tired smile his way, finding humor in my stuttering as well but not enough to laugh.

“Don’t stay out here too long. I know you didn’t sleep last night so try to go to bed for a while. I know the shop is closed as well so no excuses.”

“Quit worrying, I’ll be fine out here. I’m in my element.”

He gives me a stern look, or as stern as he can muster which isn’t much.

“Fine, I’ll only stay out a little longer and then I’ll go take a nap. Can’t even go into the shop anyway, Mrs. Benedict is the only one with a key.”

I know my grumbling sounds like a toddlers when Jungkook throws his head back, cackling. Burying my face into my arms and muffle a goodbye to him. Before he leaves, he crouches in front of me.

“Our deal is still on, right?”

I can hear his nerves when he speaks. I can’t even imagine how terrifying this may be for him to have someone know about his secret. Looking up, I give him a serious look.

“Of course, I wouldn’t tell anyone no matter what, Jungkook. I promise no one will ever know about you.”

His shoulders dropped like I had taken the weight of the world off of him, a sigh of relief following. He nods a few times, his usual smile back, and then he’s gone. I watch him walk back into town and then I turn back to the ocean. Now, the sun is reflecting a lot, blinding me slightly and forcing my eyelids shut.

The salty air blows through my hair, combing its chilled finger over my scalp. I haven’t felt this calm in a long while, not since my mother took me to the ocean last. My body is rocking side to side, in sync with the waves crashing along the shore. A whisper in my ear sends me careening backwards, plopping onto the sand into an unwarranted slumber.

“Sleep, my child.”

When I’m awoken, the sand isn’t pillowed under my head anymore. Instead, something soft was propped underneath me. A hand rested on the crown of my head, scratching lightly. Cracking my eyes open, I found that the sun was being blocked by a head. Jimin hovered above me, smiling down at my sleepy expression.

“Well, well, look who’s awake. I was beginning to think you would sleep through the whole day.”

My eyes widened as I finally registered who I was laying in the lap of. Springing up, I barely avoid colluding heads with Jimin. His reflexes were quick, moving out of the way as I scrambled to my feet. Immediately, I’m hit with a dizzy spell, almost stumbling into the water. Jimin reacts quickly, hopping up and helping me back to my balance.

“Gosh, I’m terribly sorry, Jimin. I didn’t realize I had fallen asleep.”

He chuckles at that, his hand staying on my lower back.

“I got all excited thinking a merfolk might've washed ashore.”

A nervous laugh escapes me, the memory of the page containing information over merfolk making its way to the front of mind.

“I’m sorry to have been a disappointment, I was simply exhausted and got caught up in the calmness of the ocean.”

He hums at that, absentmindedly rubbing his hand up and down my back. Jimin’s eyes bore into mine.

“You could never be a disappointment, my dear. I was simply overjoyed to find you resting so peacefully, I couldn’t help but join you. Might I assume my legs made for a good pillow?”

He’s smiling that teasing smile, knowing he’s succeeded in flustering me as I turn away. Looking at the sun, I can rightfully assume it’s around noon. I needed to get back to studying that journal, and possibly something to eat. Sure, I needed that rest, but it’ll put a hold on some questions that I left unanswered. I’ll visit Taehyung first and then I’ll get back to my research.

Turning to the man in front of me, I find him still smirking at me. Jimin has always had quite the fancy for himself. The thing is, he doesn't even know that I have way more knowledge now on what he is. I could use it to my advantage, but I think I’ll save that for later, when I really need it. Right now, I’m feeling quite confident, and I’m not about to let an opportunity slip. My father always told me not to play with fire, but I was never one to listen too well.

“You can assume right, Jimin. I must say, I slept quite well knowing you were watching over me.”

He blinks at me, surprise written all over his face at my unusual comeback. His mouth is lightly parted and I can't help but revel in my triumph of stunning him when he gulps. The infuriating smirk he always wears is wiped smooth off. I spin out of his grasp, a smirk settling on my lips as I make my way to the town. I hear Jimin stumbling behind me, finally snapping out of his stupor.

“Hey, hold on, wait one moment, dear! Where are you going in such a hurry?”

Stopping abruptly, I turn to find his screeching to a halt right behind me. Of course, he has increased speed and rather long legs.

“Into town to visit Taehyung. He has those good sandwiches today and I could use some sustenance.”

Turning back around, I start on my way again. Pausing on the top of the hill on the edge of town, I turn to find Jimin waiting in the same place I left him. Do I have to invite him with me as well? Is it not just a house invitation? Or is he just not used to me talking back? Jimin was acting weird, staring into space a lot and not giving me my personal space, though he never really respected that before

“Are you coming or do you plan to just stand there all day?”

Before I can fully blink, he’s beside me offering his arm.

“Of course I’m coming, my dear. I was just simply admiring your beauty from afar.”

He was quick to recover, but I knew something was up. I wonder, can he smell Jungkook on me? Do they know each other personally? My eyes slide over to Jimin’s profile. He’s walking with his head high, a light smile on his face as he greets the townspeople. A prominent figure in society, the businessman. My eyes widen slightly as a realization comes through. Jungkook must have been turned by Jimin.

At that thought, I face forward again, my mind reeling at the new information. Suddenly, his arm is too tight around mine, possessively covering my hand with his. He’s walking too close and I can feel him tense the closer we get to Taehyung’s bakery. Keeping my breathing regulated, I willed my heart to stop thumping against my ribcage even though I knew Jimin could hear it. I wasn't just playing with fire anymore; I was standing in the middle of a blaze.

Taehyung was pleasantly surprised to see me, his ever-present smile widening at my entrance. When Jimin walked in after holding the door for me, it was the first time I watched that smile falter. Not in indignation, but more in surprise at me being with Jimin. Taehyung was a little tense after that, taking my order as usual but keeping a watchful eye on my new shadow. Jimin gave him a tightlipped smile the entire time, not even allowing Taehyung to converse with me for any longer than necessary before turning me back outside.

“Oh goodness Jimin- hold on! Goodbye, Taehyung! I promise I’ll -stop pulling my arm- I’ll stop by tomorrow.”

I only got a glimpse at Taehyung's small wave and bright smile, yet it didn’t quite reach his eyes. Jimin was pulling me down the street but I had finally had enough of his strange behavior. Planting my feet, I yank my arm back. Not expecting it, Jimin goes screening back, stumbling a bit and looking back at me with the audacity to be shocked.

“I don’t know what’s wrong with you, but I don’t like it. You have always been incredibly thoughtful when it came to our relation, but now I am starting to question just how far that kindness goes. Does it only extend to me when there is no other man in your way?”

Jimin has always held his composure. Even when he found out about the multitude of rumors about him. Even when the economy almost sent him into bankruptcy. Even when I accidentally poked him with one of my pins when taking measurements. Now, he looked like a gaping fish as he stared at me, wide eyes and open mouth. His delicately kept hair was unkempt and his brows were furrowed as if he couldn’t figure out how to speak anymore.

You both stood there in silence for what felt like an eternity. You stared Jimin down, waiting for any answer, but he couldn’t give you one. After he finally closed his mouth, you sigh and shake your head. Making your way past and back to your abode, you throw a comment over your shoulder.

“I’ll see you at your remeasurement. Please, don’t be late.”

The walk home was uneventful. When my gate came into view, I sped up just a bit. Next thing I know, I’m rushing inside, latching my door, and flipping open the journal. I pass all of the other creatures, only one on my mind. Settling into my chair, I start to read. Hours pass as I flip through the pages, savoring my father's thoughts and analysis. Finally, I come to the pages I wish to study the most.

The Original Seven were once The Original Six. Within the past year, it has been said that another human has fallen curse to the venom of the vampire. My studies have not alluded to when or how the original vampire came to be, only that he goes by the name Kim Seok-Jin. The names of the others were originally included but I have found danger in speaking of those who do not wish to be spoken of.

What separates them from any other vampire is their power and durability. The Originals are able to withstand any form of vampiric weapon, stake, silver, holy water, crosses, etc. They can also withstand the sun, though they still prefer the night. Each one will have a power unique to them. This could include but not be limited to: mind reading, healing, venom, mind control, serenade, invisibility, and shapeshifting. Each is still equipped with extreme reflexes, night vision, fangs, and immeasurable speed just as any other vampire.

The only way to kill these vampires is to s

The page ended there, and when I flipped to the next one, it was on a completely different topic. Thinking about how my father obtained this information sends a shiver down my spine. I have that feeling again, the feeling of being watched. Immediately, I’m up and closing my curtains, pretending I don’t see the shadows along the beach. Stepping back, I inhale sharply at my own shadow dancing along the curtain. My lantern was burning behind me, illuminating the small room.

Sitting back down, I take a moment to calm myself. Pebble jumps into my lap, meowing at my strange behavior. I stroke her in an attempt to calm myself, her purring keeping me grounded.

“It’s just a book. A book that has information on some very powerful creatures who probably do not want to be found out. Yeah, just a book.”

The air seems to still at my admission, as if it didn’t want to believe me itself. Inky words swim in my vision as I hesitantly look back at the book.

If by some chance you cross these creatures, consider yourself fated for doom. Originals are known to be very protective of their own and will stop at nothing to get what they want. They are powerful not only supernaturally, but also socially. Originals are highly intelligent, especially when it comes to stalking their victims. You can only hope you never once cross paths with them, for if you do, you are already under their spell.

An Originals bite can be deadly, or undeadly if they choose. Say an Original bites just for feeding, they drain the blood and then all is done. If an Original chooses to bite with the intent to turn the victim, they can do so with a bite directly to the heart. The only specificality is that the victim must be on the brink of death, a breath away from the grave. Once an Original has turned seven victims, their eighth bite will produce another Original.

Normal vampires have a simple bite that drains the blood of their victims, and they can turn one into a fellow vamp by injecting their venom under a full moon. They do not have the power to create an Original nor kill an Original. They are sensitive to sunlight, crosses, holy water, silver, and stakes. Nighttime is when they are most active. Do not follow the shadows.

The shadows. The shadows that are outside my window. The shadows that are closing in on my little abode and there’s nothing I can do about it. Pebbles is under my bed, yowling as if in pain. My heart is beating louder than my thoughts, my entire body shaking as I try to stand. Quickly, I shut the book, stashing it in the dresser again before jumping onto my bed. Tucked away in the corner, I listen closely.

It’s eerily silent out, no wind or waves crashing. It’s as if time has stopped, and then, all at once, everything goes haywire. Banging on my door, windows, roof, everywhere resounds throughout my house. I scream in terror, begging it to stop as tears pour down my cheeks. Things are crashing down from the walls and I think my window might break. Words don’t come to me, only choked sobs and a sore throat as my screams tear through the space again.

As quick as it came, it came to a stop. It was eerily silent again, the only comparison being the calm before the storm. I’m shaking even harder than before, my eyes wide and darting around the room. My lantern is knocked over, the flame long gone, but I don’t dare to fix it. Pebble is quick to jump up with me, hiding under my pillow. Why? Why was this happening to me? I didn’t want the book, nor the curse that came with it.

“Deep breaths, deep breaths. Remember what Abigail taught you, just breathe.”

Before I could take another breath, it all started up again.

The moment the sun crests the ocean, it finally stops completely. My hands are glued to my ears, sticking slightly when I pull them away. I’m still tucked away in the corner, my knees drawn under my chin where they stayed the entire night. In a daze, I look around at my house, expecting it to be cluttered. Instead, I’m met with an immaculate space. All of the paintings that fell are right back where they were, my cabinets are shut, and the lantern sits idly on the table, flame flickering lightly.

“I’m not crazy, all of that happened. Right Pebble?”

Looking over, I find her sleeping peacefully on my pillow, as if nothing happened. Gripping the sides of my head, I let out a laugh in disbelief. Just a few moments ago, everything was in disarray and she was yowling under my pillow. I couldn’t have imagined it. I’m sitting on the edge of the bed, breathing heavily as I scavenge for any reasonable explanation.

Ripping the dresser drawer open, I spot the book exactly where I had tossed it the night before. Gripping it, I march out of my door and down to the sea. The tides seem to feel as my mind does, restless and mad. Stomping right up to the water, I let out a maddening scream. Drawing my arm back, I prepare to toss the book into the deep abyss, but I stall for a moment.

There, standing just beyond the shore, my mother looks back at me. She’s in a long brown coat, its bottom being swept by the current. My mind must be deceiving me, she can’t be here, not now.

“Mother?”

The word gets caught in my throat, stuck from going without use. She smiles at that, her eyes softening with recognition. The book is dropped to the sand, my body automatically moving towards her awaiting arms. She’s warmer than ever when I reach her, the coat encapsulating me. I feel her whispers in my hair, prayers in a language I cannot recall. Her hand comes to the back of my neck, pulling slightly so I will look at her.

“My dear, you must keep the book in your possession. I know you must find it nothing but a curse, but I promise it will bring much knowledge when needed.”

My tears drip into the welcoming ocean, reuniting with its salty ancestor.

“How- how can I trust you? You’re nothing but my sleepless mind wishing for reprieve.”

The same smile she gave me the night of her disappearance is there again, sad and regretful. She pets my head, pushing me lightly back from her. I stumble in the rolling waves, betrayal flashing in my eyes.

“Oh, my child. You have yet to learn of the knowledge that will allow you to escape the prison of your mind. Remember, listen to the wind, follow the flowers, and read every piece of bark. We shall meet again one day, I promise.”

Wiping my face to view her once more clearly, I raise to find she is no longer there. As if she was never there at all. I’m quick to step backwards onto shore, collapsing the moment I’m by the book once more. I’m sobbing now, babbling for her to come back, to help me understand her riddles. Looking over, I scrutinize the book that has brought me such misfortune. Taking in my hands again, I count the drops of tears on its cover. The dry leather soaks some up before I see them.

My house is still perfectly fine once I return. Pebbles now lays in the early morning sun, basking in its warmth. I sometimes wish I could experience her simplemindedness. Slowly, I bring the journal back to its hiding place. My mind wonders as I run my hand over its cover, the image of my mom settling in the forefront of my mind. Looking up, I lock eyes with myself in the mirror. Exhaustion is evident on my features, sunken eyes and pale skin.

“Why now? How can I be expected to just accept this?”

My reflection has no answer for me, only a mimicry of my emotional turmoil. Turning to survey my surroundings, I spotted the cross that Father Namjoon had gifted everyone one morning at the church. It was small, simple in its two pieces of cherry tree wood intersecting each other. I hold it closer to inspect it, scrutinizing its uselessness and forming an idea. Before I could change my mind, I grab my coat and throw it on over my chemise.

Fine, if the supernatural wanted to curse me, I’d curse it right back.

The church was empty when I entered, Father Namjoon nowhere in sight. The door creaks slightly as it shuts, sealing me in. Walking to the altar, I take my time to step on the reflections of the stained glass. In my sleepless state, I determine that each color feels warmer or colder than the others. Before I know it, I’m standing at the front of the small building. It has already begun to warm from the sun, causing me to shrug off my coat as I kneel. There are no eyes to see my undressed state, embarrassment far from my mind with all that has happened.

I sit on my feet for a moment, folding my chemise under my knees and process how to even start. Praying was foreign to me, never feeling the need to ask for service from an unseen force. Tilting my head side to side, I hum thoughtfully as words start to piece together in my sluggish mind. Rising to my knees once more, I prepare to speak.

“Lord, give me strength.”

It takes me a moment to register that the voice is not mine. It's deep and calm with just a bit of hoarseness tacked on the end that crawls up my spine. Blinking, I turn to where I heard the sentence from, finding a black robe directly behind me. Slowly, I follow the pressed fabric upwards, spotting a gripped rosary before coming face to face with Father Namjoon. His face is twisted weird, a look of conflict crossing his features. His head is tilted slightly to the right, eyes squinted at me.

“Pardon, Father?”

He quickly schools his features, straightening himself and clearing his throat. He takes me in again, his eyes lingering on my neck a second longer before they settle on my face. Pink tongue meets plush lips, wetting them instantly. I meet his gaze, waiting for an answer, my hands coming to rest in my lap in an attempt to hold my patience.

“I apologize, I simply thought you might have been struggling with how to start. Lord, give me strength is good to fall back on.”

He smiles then, his eyes closing as his dimple appears. Father Namjoon seems content with hovering over me, the idea of personal space certainly not crossing his mind.

“Right, yes, thank you, Father. I apologize for the sudden intrusion, I simply rushed here without much thought.”

I’m back to sitting on my feet, running my hand over my face, embarrassment creeping up now. He hums at that, eyes glancing down at my coat, before settling on my hunched form. How humiliating, an undressed woman kneeling at the altar with no thought of prayer. I listen to Father Namjoon as he steps around me, coming to stand in front of me now. I can’t address him, my eyes stuck to his black shoes.

“There are no apologies needed, any and all, no matter their nature, are welcome in these walls. What troubles you? You seem disgruntled, uprooted.”

Still not meeting his burning gaze, I fiddle with my fingers. How do I explain that the supernatural are not only real, but they now have a personal vendetta against me because of a journal my father decided to write in? Yeah, I certainly wasn’t going to tell him that, I would be hung or burned at the stake before noon. I needed to choose my words carefully.

“There is, uh, I’m not sure how to exactly explain it, but there is a sort of force surrounding my home. I believe the devil is testing me and I wish to be relieved of this burden. I know I sound hysterical but I swear Father, something is out to get me and I have been feeling this way for quite some time. I fear going out at night or sometimes even early morning. I’m sorry I-

Father Namjoon’s hand tilts my chin, beckoning my eyes to his. So much for choosing my words carefully, he’s probably checking my eyes to see if I’ve been possessed by a demon somehow. He’s bent slightly at the waist, his thumb caressing my jawline.

“The devil does love to test.”

He pauses, glancing down at the chemise, gulping. Quickly, his eyes are back on mine, my flushed face now in full view.

“Why did you not come to me about this sooner? I do not wish for you to have to go another day with this burden. You sweet thing, you do not deserve to be bothered by the trials of the evil one.”

I slump in his hold, my eyes closing in resolved tension. Father Namjoon kneels with me, coming to rest his hand on my back and rubbing soothing circles. His other hand never leaves my jaw, squeezing slightly to get me to look at him again. Opening my eyes, I realize how exhausted I am. If the Father was not holding my face, I probably would have fallen face first into welcomed slumber.

“Thank you for understanding, Father. It’s been, it’s been so hard. You have my utmost gratitude.”

He smiles again, small and sympathetic. The hand on my jaw slides to rest on the side of my neck. His thumb settles on my pulse beneath my ear, pressing lightly. I sigh in content, no bothering to question his behavior in my current state. Father Namjoon’s voice is barely above a whisper when he speaks again.

“Of course, darling. Take a moment to gain your strength and then we will proceed with cleaning and purifying your home. Does that sound good?”

I can only nod, matching his small smile with a tired one of my own. 

------------------

Growing up, I attended church every Sunday with my parents, but I never really listened to what was taught. The building was too large and the hymns were too boring for a young girl to pay attention to. The only thing that held my small attention was the stained glass lining the window panes, reflecting the early morning sun in a kaleidoscope of colors. This religion people were spreading seemed to take to everyone, except me, and maybe my family. 

My mother was an herbalist, or apothecary of sorts. She believed the natural world held far more power than we could comprehend. That’s why she gave small offerings back to the soil that gave us harvest and fed the fish in the pond that fed us when the soil could not. Sometimes, I could hear her muttering a small prayer to those above us, those who controlled our seasons and food. One day, I asked her if she would teach me the prayers and she simply said that she could not teach what is meant to come from within. My mother was incredibly talented, cryptic at times, and according to my father, the most beautiful woman he’s ever seen.

My father was a high ranking businessman, although I never understood what business he did. Whenever I would ask, he simply said it was nothing a little girl needed to concern herself with. I would huff and resume sneaking into his study at night, reading over the parchments he brought home. He carried a smile wherever he went, never letting the dreaded world get to him. My mother said it was what drew her to him, his smile and his perception of life. My father never really expressed where his “faith” aligned, but he never questioned mothers, so I assumed it was along the same lines. 

It’s humorous of me to be thinking of this now, as I sit in my self assigned pew, in a small church on a hill overhanging the sea. After everything, I did not think I would find myself willingly attending these early services. There’s stained glass here for me to stare at as well and there are hymns that don’t make me completely bored. Although, I’m quite attentive, listening to his words.

Father Namjoon speaks in a low baritone, reciting a verse that I swear I have never found in any bible. I can feel his voice in my chest, the vibration making my head light. He was far too handsome for a priest, looking nothing like the fathers back in the capital. Tan skin that you only got a peak of and dimples that poked through when he greeted guests. His hair kissed the top of his eyelids, brown like the soil my mother used to pray over. He towered over most but never made it seem imposing, squatting to greet the little ones as he walked in town.

He flips a page and lets out a small hum, appreciative and thoughtful. The little book he reads from, holds many beliefs you did not think existed anymore. He speaks of equality of women to men, the natural world, offerings, and a god that may or may not be there. He preaches with such dignity and belief in what he is reading, I was hooked at the first service. Maybe that’s why I keep attending, because he reads of a time that is now, yet feels far in the past. 

The women in the front row practically swoon when he looks up and smiles at the chiming of the clock. 

“That is the end of service. I bid you all a farewell and I send my prayers to those that need them. Good day.”

A chorus of “thank you, father” resound throughout the small space. Father Namjoon simply bows a little and disappears into the backroom. I wait for a moment as the kids rush by and tired parents attempt to keep up with them. Elizabeth, a mother of four, gives me a weary smile as she passes by. I give a sheepish one back, feeling a little embarrassed of my empty pew. An unmarried twenty-two year old woman was unheard of, especially one that no longer lives with her parents. 

I decide it’s time to shuffle out, taking my time standing and adjusting my dress. I sigh as I remember all of the orders I need to do today. I’ve only taken two steps when I’m stopped by a familiar voice behind me. 

“Oh Miss, I hope that sigh was not about the order I put in. I only ask so much of you because I know you can do it better than anyone else.”

I turn in time to see Mister Jimin’s charming smile, his eyes crinkling a little more when I huff a small laugh. He’s in one of the suits I made him, dark maroon in color with accents of gold along the cuffs and neckline. It fits him perfectly, a telltale of my good work. 

“Of course not, Mister Jimin. I’m simply exhaling my nerves for the day and allowing myself a refreshed mind before I go and finish your suits.”

I give him a content smile, though, I know it doesn’t quite reach my eyes. It hasn’t for some time now, ever since my father stopped writing to me months back. If Mister Jimin notices, he simply chooses not to say anything, only offering another chuckle and a pat to my shoulder as he passes. He reminds me of my father, or, the father I knew before my mother disappeared. 

That thought sits with me as I make my way out of the church and down the path to the town center. 

I was only 14 when my mother mysteriously disappeared one night, nothing left behind to give us any clue of where she went. That was the first time I ever saw my father’s smile fall. He searched day and night for a week straight, never giving up on finding her, but she was never found. There was nothing I could do, only to wait for him every night with a hot meal that he never ate. My nanny, Abigail, always made sure I was taken care of when he was gone. 

Before the night my mother disappeared, we all sat down and had a lovely dinner in the comfort of the beautiful home my father worked so hard for. Laughter filled every crevice, covering every shadow with golden light. My mother brought the vegetables out she had grown in her garden and the roast she had prepared so meticulously. That was the last time my father smiled. 

I make it to the beginning of houses and shops. It’s a small town, but beauty doesn’t always have to be a big display. Houses line the outer edge of the town, each one built with a light stone from the cliffs nearby. The center held a few shops, a bakery, and a small tavern. I peaked at my house further down the path to my right, next to the shoreline. A light smile settles on my lips as I continue down.

There is a small, beautiful fountain that sits in the middle of the town. Women are gathered around with their laundry baskets, already tackling the day's chores. Small, sand colored stones covered the streets, announcing my arrival with the click of my heels. I take in the fresh air, the smell of fresh bread and the ocean filling my lungs. My mother would have loved it here. I tried to get my father to come with me, but he never left the house, hoping one day the other half of his soul would be returned. 

Taehyung sweeps open his door right as I pass, gifting me a shy smile and a loaf of bread.

“Good morning, Miss. Don’t work too hard on this fine day!”

A laugh escapes me, humored by his ability to predict my scheduled visits for bread. I take it with a small bow and continue my way to the shop. He was right about it being a fine day, the sun was bright on my face and the wind swept cool air around my ankles. Very rarely did it get dreary in this town, the winter months being an exception. 

While depositing the loaf of bread into my satchel, I forgot to watch where I was going. I was knocked off kilter as my shoulder collided with someone else’s. After stumbling a bit, I whipped around to apologize to whoever I ran into.

“I’m so-”

“Careful.”

The man was looking back at me, a small smirk playing on his face. Mirth swam in his eyes as he looked me up and down before continuing his way down the street. He walked with a lazy confidence, his clothes reflecting that. His shirt hung loose out of one side and his jacket was slung over one shoulder. Before I could examine him more, he disappeared around a corner. 

Standing there for a moment, I attempted to register that strange interaction. His eyes reminded me of my cats, slanted and knowing more than he let on. I couldn’t remember where I had seen him before, but I ultimately gave up, shaking my head, and continuing my journey. 

Mrs. B’s comes into view as I round the other side of the fountain. It’s the only seamstress shop here and one of the best according to Mister Jimin. I glance at the new display as I make my way in. The wooden doll rests her hand on her hip, styling the newest pieces in the shop. The bell above the door jingles as I make my way in. Before I can adjust, Mrs. Benedict is already listing off all our orders we need to complete today. I sigh as I prepare for the cramps my fingers will feel tonight. 

I work in my own little space that Mrs. Benedict set up for me. It’s in the back of the shop and I have a small window that overlooks the surrounding forest. Jungkooks pants are in my hands as I stitch the many slashes they have. He’s a beloved hunter in the town, bringing back more animals than anyone and is alleged to be incredibly skilled with a knife. I find myself always stitching up his clothes though, as he’s also considerably reckless. The hunters were supposed to return today, so I needed to make sure his clothes were ready for his arrival.

This town relied solely on itself, never receiving much help from the capital. We fished, hunted, and grew our own food to contribute to the community. The only people that had any sort of connection between the two were Mister Jimin and any other businessman here. Although they rarely visited the capital, opting to send parchments back and forth. Perhaps that’s why my father suggested this place, because it was far from the gossip of the elite. 

Everyone had their own role here and everyone filled it as much as they could. When I first arrived, I was troubled by the idea that I would not be beneficial to the town, but I was quickly proven wrong by Mrs. Benedict. Her last shop attendant left for the city and she became overwhelmed with orders. Hearing her struggle one day at the Sunday service, I offered my expertise. Abigail had taught me everything my mother was not able to continue teaching me, and more. Those orders were out before the very next day.

There’s something mind encompassing about sewing. It allows my mind a moment to stop, to breathe deeper and slower. The sun has started to peek through the sheer curtains, warming my nimble fingers and lighting up my work space. I can see small specs of dust floating around, stopping to tickle my nose before my lips puff them away. After adjusting my posture in the armchair, I rest my arms on the mahogany desk and sigh. 

The feeling of the fine wool in my hands reminded me of the blankets my mother used to make. Oh, how warm they were, how soft they felt as I smoothed them over my chilled legs. My mother had made a special one for each of us, making sure we were well warmed in the winter months. After she disappeared, I found myself reaching for hers, still finding the scent of her oils on it. When I left, I brought the blanket with me with slim hope that it would provide comfort to soothe my nerves. I no longer smell the oils she used to wear. 

“There sure is a lot of sighing back here for someone already half way done with their work.”

I startled at Mrs. Benedict’s words, immediately covering my shocked face with a sheepish one. She chuckles at my change in expression and sets a plate in front of me. She had compiled a multitude of fruits on the side and sat a fresh sandwich in the middle. The growling of my stomach only solidified what Mrs. Benedict already knew, I forgot to bring my lunch. 

“I apologize, troubles plague my mind today, no matter how much I wish them away.”

“Troubles? Even after this morning's service? I assumed seeing Father Namjoon would have lifted your spirits instantaneously.”

I choke on the grape I had just plopped into my mouth, delving into a coughing fit. Mrs. Benedict slides the tea she brews my way and I nod my head in a way of thanks as I almost gulp it down. It burns my throat some but that doesn’t stop me from defending my dignity.

“I could not know what you speak of, Mrs. Benedict. Father Namjoons service was exceptional as always but I do not see how viewing him would lift troubles that have been ongoing for months.”

She rolls her eyes, appalling me by her lack of formalities. Though she has been like this since the beginning, I should not be surprised by what she says next.

“Oh, you do not fool me, dear. You’re as hopeless as the rest of the women in this town for him. I cannot hold it against you, he is quite the sight.”

“Pardon me, but are you implying that I feel for Father Namjoon? That is against all-”

My mouth is flapping open like a fish, Mrs. Benedict's hand halting me from blabbing on any further. She smiles a sweet smile my way and gestures to my food, signalling me to continue eating. I give her a wary look, but continue my lunch nonetheless. 

“There is no harm in finding one attractive, dear. You are unmarried at an age where one should already have a family, but that does not mean it is certainly bad. The Father is a likely candidate because he is also unwed and he is close to your age.”

I sighed and finished my chewing. I forget that the rules are a lot less strict here. If I had even considered a Father in the capital for a split moment, I would have been accused of blasphemy and possibly sentenced to death.

“Mrs. Benedict, as I was saying, there are rules and regulations. A Father can not marry nor have, uh, relations with another. It goes against their sworn oath.”

“You’re not denying the fact that you find an attraction to him. Who knows, maybe you’ll be the one to bring him back to the ground from his pedestal.”

I can only give her a straight look, hoping she does not notice my now warming cheeks. She undoubtedly does notice as she giggles to herself and twists in a spin to the door.

“I have more orders I need to go through! Once you’re finished, head on home for the evening. Don’t forget to eat dinner and my dear?”

I straighten myself from putting my face in my hands.

“Yes, Mrs. Benedict.”

Her lips split into a smile full of sympathy. 

“Try not to let the troubles of your father wear you down. He will come around soon, I’m sure of it.”

I can only nod my head dumbly. Of course she knew what I was worried about, that woman knew everything. She was in her early fifties, having lived a life long before mine. I didn’t believe her when she first told me her age, the long inky black hair in a bun and her bright eyes led me to believe she was much younger. I found she wasn’t lying when she seemed to know me better than myself.

“You remind me of when I was young. I was scared to reach out and discover what was new but I found that knowledge was the most powerful thing I could wield. Don’t sell yourself short just because you have thoughts, those thoughts are what make you human, my dear. Just because someone isn’t here to teach you does not mean you cannot continue to learn.”

The night after she told me that, I went and checked a book from the small library we had. It went over herbs and crops that planted well in this region. I decided it was time to learn the knowledge my mother held so dear. After that, I continued to collect more books, even contracting the local carpenter for a bookshelf. When Mister Jimin found out, he started to bring me books back that he would find on his visits to the capital. 

The sun had started its descent when I finished the last detail on Mister Jimin’s suit. They weren’t due for another day, but I liked to get a little ahead. Stretching my arms, I rose from my seat and collected my satchel. Mrs. Benedict was talking with a customer, leaving me to simply wave goodbye. The fountain was now abandoned as I walked around it and I couldn't help but take in the clean scent of soap as I passed.

My house was built like the many others that surrounded the town center, except mine was slightly closer to the shore. My door was made of the same deep mahogany my desk at the shop was made of, and my roof was of the same wood. My garden sat in the back, where the soil was the richest. So far, it was teaming with life. I had my own two hands and the book's teachings to thank for its plentifulness. 

Before I could unlatch my lock and step inside, an eager voice called out. 

“I’m sure you would like your parchment before you got all settled in for the night, no?”

I turned with a grin rivalling the gleam of the setting sun on the ocean. Hoseok stood by my gate, an equally blinding smile on his face. He was the correspondent between the capital and here, carrying parchments day in and day out. High cheekbones and windswept hair, he was quite the sight to behold. Right now though, my sights were set on the letter in his hand.

“I cannot begin to explain how grateful I am to see you right now.”

He chuckled at my ecstatic face, handing the letter over the gate. I rushed back and slipped it from his hand, only glancing at the addresser before opening it. My hands were shaking as I scanned through the text. Hoseok said something to me, probably teasing about it being a lover, but I didn’t hear him. 

The letter was incredibly small, but I could still only focus on the last three sentences.

I regret to inform you of your fathers disappearance. His will has been read and I will be on my way by dawn to bring all he has left you. My arrival should be expected within three days.

Sincerely,

Mr. Kyong

Authors Note:

I never would have considered my father a collector of any sorts. He liked to always have a new quill, and every now and then, my mother would get him a small gift from one of the shops downtown, but he never seeked items himself. That’s why I’m not surprised by only two chests being lifted into my living room. They’re both a good size, causing Mister Kyong to struggle as he brings them in. 

“My offer still stands, Mister Kyong. I promise I am not as frail as you assume.”

He only grunts as he sets down the other chest, huffing as he straightens and sends me a look.

“And once again, I do not want you doing any heavy lifting, miss. I know you are capable but you have just received some rather shocking news and I would prefer it if you rested.”

I simply huff and turn my head to the side, staring out my window as I attempt to swallow the lump in my throat. This wasn’t how it was supposed to be. My father was supposed to realize that he couldn’t wait forever and finally join me here. 

Abigail would have called me naive for thinking that way, my parents' bond was far deeper and stronger than even she could comprehend. That’s why I can now only assume his disappearance had something to do with my mothers. 

Mister Kyong was my fathers long time business partner. He was there for my mothers disappearance and he has continued working with my father even as the economy has shuffled. I’ve always had fond memories of him and his family joining us for holiday dinners and social parties. He was getting old in his age, so I felt bad that he would not allow me to assist with the heavy trunks. 

A sigh sounds from beside me, startling me out of my daydream, and a hand comes to rest upon my shoulder.

“He spoke so highly of you. You never got to hear how much he bragged of your accomplishments here and just how much he enjoyed your letters. It tis alright to grieve him, even if you are unsure of his current nature.”

His words are meant to be comforting, I know that, but I cannot help but feel a deep dissatisfaction with what he says.

“I have not received a single letter from him for three months, so forgive me if I cannot believe your perception of him. As for my grieving, it has already come and gone, my mothers disappearance sealing him away from me. I have not known of my fathers nature in quite some time, Mister Kyong.”

Sympathy swims in his eyes and I cannot bear it any longer. Walking over to one of the trunks, I decide it’s time to survey what I will be keeping. Mister Kyong clears his throat as I kneel to open a trunk. 

“Before you get started, Miss, there are a couple more things I must discuss with you.”

I turned my head slightly over my shoulder, signaling that I was listening. He paused before continuing.

“Your father requested that the estate be sold and left entirely to you. I have the parchments detailing everything here and the coins are within one of the trunks. He also requested that I give you his journal and never speak of it again.”

At his last words, I stand and turn abruptly, stumbling as I almost run unto Mister Kyong. In his hands is a leather bound journal, worn with time. The strangest part is that it is covered in chains and locks. I look at him curiously, but he only shrugs and sticks it out for me to take. Cautiously, I reach out and grasp the book. The weight of the chains is immediate as I bring it closer to examine. Many different locks littered just the front, leading me to wonder how in mother Earth he expected me to open it. 

“Did he say anything to you before he left?”

Mister Kyong thinks for a moment before shaking his head lightly.

“He came to me and asked for my signature to change the will. Right before I signed it, he scribbled that the book would go to you in the back of the parchment. All he asked is that I did not speak of it.”

So no one living, or well, currently present had any idea what this book entailed.

“He also said that you would know to read it when you are ready.”

I leveled Mister Kyong with an ‘you’re kidding with me’ but he only returned a solemn look. My father had obviously gone off of his rocker once I left. If I had known he was struggling, I would have forced him to either meet with the doctor or move in with me. I plop the book on the table, the force of its landing causing both of us to flinch,

“I am sorry I cannot be of more help, Miss. I must be on my way, but if there is anything you need at all, please feel free to write me.”

A hug is exchanged, my words failing me as I now realize just how alone I am. Mister Kyong understands my hesitancy, giving me a final pat on my head before he turns to the door. I stand there wringing my hands, glancing at the strange journal. Why would my father feel the need to take such precautions?

“My, I am terribly sorry. I did not realize there was company.” 

Immediately my eyes are on the door, recognition settling in them at the familiar voice. Mister Jimin stands in the doorway, blocking Mister Kyong from leaving. He’s in a plum suit with silver detail along the collar, another one of my creations. He notices my attention on him, a saccharine smile slowly spreading on his face. 

“No need for any apologies, sir. I was just on my way out, if you wouldn’t mind stepping aside for a moment.” 

Mister Jimin steps slightly to the side, allowing Mister Kyong to squeeze by him. Before Mister Kyong is down the second step, Mister Jimin is already covering the doorway again. 

“Lively fellow, isn’t he?” 

A giggle escapes me before I can stop it, his words said with a raise of his brows as he jutted his thumb to Mister Kyong’s retreating back. 

“I apologize, he’s never been one for pleasantries with people he does not know.”

“Mm, no need for you to apologize for him, my dear. I can't help but thank him as he allowed me a glance at your joy. And please, call me Jimin, I believe I’ve already told you this multiple times, yes?” 

My cheeks warm at his words and I turn before he can notice the shy smile on my face. Mister Jimin was known for being quite forward, yet it always caught me off guard. I took a breath to calm myself before turning back to Mister Jimin, noticing he was still in the doorway. 

“You flatter me, Jimin. My father simply taught me to always be respectful, but I will try to stay simple. Also, what are you doing standing in the doorway? Please, come in, you are always welcome here. I’ll start some tea for us and you can tell me all about your recent trip to the city.” 

Just as I turned to start the tea, I caught Jimin’s smile widening in amusement. The suncatcher in my window must've somehow caught just perfectly because I swore I saw a hint of green in his brown eyes. I don’t even hear him enter. 

“Always welcome, you say?”

His voice is slightly hoarse, an octave deeper than what I am used to. Finishing setting up the tea, I turn to respond and find that he is much closer now, his hand resting on the edge of the table closest to me. The sunlight filtered in through my curtains, haloing his dark blonde hair. He’s smiling that kind smile again, his eyes lidded as he watches me. 

“Why, of course. You’ve given so much to me, it’s the least I could do. Please, sit!”

At that, Jimin gives a satisfied hum and sits down at the table. Before he can even begin to settle, I sweep the book off of the table and deposit it into my dresser. I turn and he’s eyeing me curiously, but I only offer a nervous laugh as I go back to preparing the tea. His eyes are still on me as I flit around the small kitchen but I try to not let his stare get to me. 

As I set the cups down, I plop into my own seat, keeping a respectful distance. Jimin slides my tea cup closer to him before hooking his foot on my chair and sliding me to his side. My eyes widen and I whip around to look at him, wondering his intentions. He simply sips his tea, hums appreciatively, and turns to me with his head resting on his palm.

“I’ll tell you about my visit to the city as long as you tell me why Mr. Personality was paying you a visit.”

I’m still looking at him questioningly and he simply returns it with an intrigued look. Lifting the cup to my lips, I break eye contact and shrug.

“I can settle with that.” 

Jimin stayed well into the afternoon, retelling the tales of his encounters while in the capital. Apparently, business is doing well there, the economy rising again. He said that the usual bookstore he went to was being run by a man that bothers him, so he did not visit. Instead, he visited some boutiques and picked some fabric up for me. “For a new dress, my dear,” he had said. I told him he did not need to get me something every time he visited but he simply waved me off. 

He was surprised when I had told him of my fathers disappearance, keeping most details at minimum. I explained who Mister Kyong was and why he had visited, showing him my fathers trunks but keeping from mentioning the mysterious book . When Jimin asked about said book, I just laughed and said it was one of my fathers weird puzzles. He was very understanding of my situation and offered his sympathy. 

After talking a little more, he departed with a kiss on my hand and a promise to bring my gifts by another day. The moment I shut the door, I twirled around my house, giggling to myself. Coming to a halt by my bed, I plopped down and sighed. I knew I shouldn't get involved with Jimin, the rumors surrounding him were pretty damning. 

Mrs. Benedict told me that he for sure had a family in the capital and came here only to try and tempt women. His house further down and up on the hill was simply a vacation home, according to her. Now, I was finding that rumor to be more believable, but I couldn’t find it in myself to want to stop seeing him. Yes, he went to the capital a lot, but he was a businessman. I just assumed he was like my father and didn't enjoy sharing his working life. 

I sighed as I laid there, thinking over the past few days. Abigail hadn't written to me in a long while either, I can’t help but wonder where she is. Did she disappear with my father? Did she find another family to serve since she didn't need to care for me anymore? Did she know anything about the journal?

At that thought, I opened and reached into my dresser drawer. It took a moment to maneuver the book out because of its heaviness, but I eventually settled it in my lap. The cover was a rough brown leather, its edges worn with time. It was big enough to hold with two hands and it covered most of my thighs. Looking closer, I could see the parts where my father had run his thumb up and down the spine, a habit he had when he was thinking. I counted seven locks on the entire thing, all while wondering where I was going to get this many different keys. 

Once again, I place the journal back in the drawer and shut it with a sigh. Resting my chin on the top of the dresser, I stare at my reflection in the mirror. The dips under my eyes were prominent, signally my stress and tiredness. Sleep would not come easy tonight, so I decided to do something I had never done. Donning my wool coat, I step out into the evening, the local tavern in mind.

Before I can make it out of the entryway, a meow sounds from my right. Low and behold, Pebble sits on the stoop, looking at me with her deep amber eyes. Shaking my head, I open the door wider for her to enter

“I was starting to think you had disappeared too,” I whisper to myself.

I could hear the music long before I reached the door. There weren’t a lot of visitors that came here, but the tavern has plenty of business with the locals. The Golden Harp had been here far longer than most could remember, its lively atmosphere keeping people coming back. I never felt the need to visit, but I also still had a part of my family left during those times.  

I watched through the window for a moment, taking in the sight of people dancing and laughing together. The door flies open beside me, blasting warm air filled with the scent of meed in my face. Two people stumble out and I grab the door before it shuts. The music is much louder, originating from the small group of musicians at the front. 

I spot a stool at the end of the bar, shrugging my coat off as I shuffle over. My eyes are still on the musicians, my lips quirking at the people attempting to dance, but being far too drunk. There’s chatter all around, choruses of laughter, and even some crying at the other end of the bar.

“Certainly haven't seen you here before. What can I get you?”

Cringing slightly, I realize I have no idea what they serve here. My father used to indulge me in a special fruity wine, but I highly doubt they have it. Turning to ask, I pause at the face in front of me. 

Cat-like eyes narrow slightly, recognition flashing in them as well. His black hair is slightly disheveled, becoming more so as he runs his hand through it. He wears almost the same outfit as when I ran into him, except his shirt is a deep blue now, still untucked of course. His plush lips stay in a straight line, a bored look in his eyes. I notice his lips twitch and realize I’ve been staring too long. 

“Do you carry Le venin du croc here?”

He blinks at that, a slow smirk stretching across his face.

“Good taste, sweetheart.”

I fluster at the unfamiliar nickname as he disappears to the other side of the bar. Leaning forward slightly, I watch as he reaches down into one of the bottom cabinets. He produces a bottle and snags a mug before heading back my way.

“Not many people order it, but I always keep a bottle for myself.”

He plops the mug in front of me, pouring the red liquor moments later. I smile slightly as I raise it to my lips

“It was my father’s favorite, he never bought anything else. I guess I enjoy the familiarity.”

The man hums at that and comes to rest his hands on the bar, eyeing me as I take a sip. The sweetness floods my mouth, settling on my tastebuds. It tastes the same as I remembered, the memories of family dinners still fresh in my mind. The slight burn of the liquor glides along my throat before settling in my stomach, low and warm. I open my eyes, not realizing I had closed them, and settle on the man in front of me. 

His hands flex on the bar, accentuating the veins and muscles in his forearms. His gaze weighs heavy on me as my eyes slide up to his. How have I never seen him before? I think I would have noticed someone as intriguing as him, even if I don’t regularly visit the tavern. He doesn’t seem like one to attend the services though, and I typically follow the same routine every day. He just happened to break it that one morning.

“All good, sweetheart?”

“Perfectly fine, sir.”

We were still having a stare down before someone down from me cleared their throat and asked for his attention. He looked up at the ceiling, signaling his distaste, and drug his feet to the other patron. I giggle into my mug, taking another swig of my drink.

I continue to watch him flit around the bar, teasing the barmaids as he hands them multiple beers at once. It’s enthralling to me as I watch them pick up ten with ease. The large table of men in the corner apparently agree with me as they cheer with delight. The tension slowly releases from my body the more I sip from the mug. My head rests on my chin, my eyes dazed while I look around.

“I don’t think I ever got your name, sweetie.” 

I glance at him out of the corner of my eye. He’s resting his arms on the counter, leaning forward slightly. His head is lightly tilted, his bored eyes now turned sultry, or that may be the alcohol talking. Turning fully towards him, I lean in slightly.

“I think I deserve an apology before I relinquish my name to you, sir.”

“Oh, yeah? Pray tell what for?”

He leans forward in mock intrigue, hogging my personal space. My nerves get the best of me, my body tilting back on the stool. 

“You cut me off when I tried to apologize for running into you.”

He hums in thought, no doubt hearing the slight slur in my words. 

“I don’t see how that warrants an apology, I was simply making sure you knew to be careful when walking around and not looking where you are going.”

I level him with my attempt at a glare, but the liquor in my system has started to soften my features. He huffs a laugh at my expression before leaning back a little bit to take me in. The man thinks for a moment, checking on the rest of the bar before turning back to me. 

“Let’s just say we're both in the wrong and you tell me your name. Unless, you prefer I stick with sweetheart?”

His offer sounds enticing, but I know I can’t accept it. People would start to get the wrong idea. I know it’s not as bad as the city here but gossip still exists. An unmarried woman being called sweetheart? I was asking for a visit from Father Namjoon after the women of the town bombarded him with such nonsense. 

“Why don’t I get your name first? Unless, you prefer I stick with sir?” 

His eyes widen slightly at my retaliation before he drops his head down. I can hear him exhale slowly before looking back up at me. His cheeks have reddened some and his mouth is pulled thin, an attempt at hiding a smile. 

“It sounds good coming from you but if you insist on a name, you can call me Yoongi.”

I don’t remember the rest of the conversation and I don’t remember my walk home. All I can recall is Yoongi’s hand on my back as he guided me inside. Stopping in the doorway, I had asked him why he wasn’t coming in. He only smiled in amusement at that, bidding me a goodnight and shutting my door. Pebble had meowed from her perch on my bed and the next thing I knew, I was face down on the comforter. 

The rest of the week went relatively well. I didn’t have much time to look through my fathers chests, work keeping up all of my time. Jimin had sent many more orders, stating that his cuffs seemed tighter. My pile of his halfway finished orders would now have to be completely restarted. I requested he come into the shop next week so I could get his new measurements. It’s unusual to have to do a remeasurement, but I just assumed Jimin was growing muscle. 

I didn’t return to the tavern at all, too tired to sit in another uncomfortable barstool. Abigail would be proud that I even went out, having never shown interest in that sort of thing. I needed to be careful though and not drink as much. Jimin’s voice echoed through my head, something about how I shouldn’t just let anyone inside. Thankfully, Yoongi didn’t seem too dangerous and Pebble didn’t hiss at him, so that must've meant he was somewhat good, right? 

“Taehyung, do you by chance know where I can find scent oils here?”

He sits in thought for a moment, my loaf of bread stalled in his hand. 

“I know Mister Jimin gets his from the capital, but I recall Mister Carring talking about carrying some. I would check over in his shop.”

He hands me my bread and I give him a bright smile, excited for the possibility. I know Jimin would get some for me if I asked, but he wouldn't allow any payment. Taehyung returns my bright smile, laughing a little at my giddiness. 

“Thank you, Taehyung. I’ve been searching for some for a while now.”

“Of course, Miss! I can’t wait to smell what you get.” 

I nod and make my way out of the store, heading for Mister Carring’s shop.

He ended up having a plethora of oils, some of scents I had never heard of. Only one caught my attention, its scent unlike anything I had ever smelt before. It was slightly sweet with a slight musk, and a mix of berries. It almost smelled like one of the tarts that Taehyung made on weekends. 

I set it on my dresser, feeling proud of my finding. Before I could stop myself, my eyes dropped to the drawer that contained the journal. I still hadn’t searched the trunks for any keys so it still sat unread. I had to admit, I was also a little scared to read it. What if it was my fathers deepest thoughts? I don’t know if I could bear reading what he was going through. 

Sighing, I turned to the trunks, deciding now was the time to go through them. Folding a medium sized cloth, I laid it down on the wood floors. I didn’t want my dress getting dirty nor for my knees to start hurting. Closing my eyes for a moment, I prepare myself for what I was going to find. 

The first trunks contained the basics; some of my clothes I had left there, the coins from the estate sale, and some of his books that I never got to read. I took my time with everything, savoring the care that was put into packing these. My father must’ve known he was leaving, having packed everything ahead of time. Knowing that made my heart drop into my stomach. Why did he feel the need to leave? 

The second trunk was a little more peculiar. At first, I noticed he had sent me new sewing supplies. In one of my letters I mentioned how my scissors had broken and my needles were getting dull. My eyes became misty as I realized that Mister Kyong was being truthful, my father did still think of me. I just wish he would have talked to me more and not shut me out every time I tried to talk with him. 

The rest of the things in there were just bizarre. Parchments that had mistakes riddled throughout, no doubt needing to be thrown away. There was a random overcoat with its buttons all messed up, but it wouldn’t fit me because it was made for my father. I found rocks and broken glass that I almost caught my finger on. At the very bottom, there were bundles of grass laid beside each other in a line. 

I couldn’t help but sit there in wonder. None of it made sense, it all just seemed more like junk. I felt bad that Mister Kyong had to drag this in here when it didn’t even pertain to anything relevant. The only thing I really needed was the sewing kit, though I could use the overcoat if I hemmed it and fixed the buttons. Deciding that was my project for the day, I set it aside and close the trunk. Maybe I could use the other junk for some sort of project. I could at least use the glass for another sun catcher. 

The coat was a deep maroon, its wool worn but soft. I recognized it as a coat my mother had bought for him. Maybe that’s why he had sent it, as a reminder of her. The problem was that the buttons were all uneven and pulled out, which is not the state it was in when I had left. Smoothing it out on the table, I noticed messed up stitching along one of the flaps. I shook my head, of course he tried to fix it.

Sighing, I open my new sewing kit, surveying my tools. I pull out my new pair of scissors, snapping them a few times before turning them towards the messed up seams. Lowering myself closer to the lapel, I eye a weird outline under the stitching. Smoothing my finger over it, I flinch slightly as I feel a hard object. There’s no way, no possible way it’s what I think it is. Taking my scissors, I carefully trim the uneven seams, opening the now small flap to reveal a key.

I take a moment to collect myself. The keys are hidden in the entire right lapel, underneath every messed-up button. I found seven keys, the exact amount needed to unlock the journal. The only problem is, why did my father feel the need to hide them? 

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