#slow updates

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the morning after was a different kind of disaster.

chung myung couldn't stop thinking about it. which was, objectively the worst possible outcome for someone who was very good at not thinking about things.

he had made it a skill, actually. a skill you develop when you've lived two lifetimes and learned that feelings were mostly inconvenient. and yet here he was, halfway through the city, tripping over sidewalk cracks like a drunkard, his mind stuck in a corner he'd been actively avoiding.

he thought about last night.

the food had been incredible. that much he could admit, no problem there. the alcohol had been good too, it loosened up something in his chest which he usually kept locked down tight. and the woman—

jiejie...

nope. he's not going there.

he just chalked it up to the effects of the alcohol. he tries to convince himself.

it's just a temporary possession, a brief moment where he wasn't entirely himself. the flirting didn't count, the way he'd looked at her across that weiqi board, the soft thing in his voice when he'd called her jiejie—none of it happened, okay?!

it was just the drink talking and he'd be laughed out of mount hua if anyone found out he was acting like a thirteen year old boy who just discovered that girls existed!

he blushed furiously at the thought and nearly walked into a vendor's stall.

"watch it, kid." the vendor called after him.

the thing was, he couldn't figure out how to go back. if he showed up again with his usual confidence, she might think he was continuing...whatever that was from yesterday.

if he didn't show up at all, that would be its own kind of answer and he wasn't about to let someone, anyone of that matter, make him look like a coward! so he was stuck in this weird limbol where his stomach kept doing backflips and his core felt hot and there was absolutely, definitely nothing wrong with him.

it's probably just the food still sitting heavy. (yes really)

he stopped in the middle of the street with hands shoved in his robes and made a decision.

information first! he thought with a clear head.

he'd find someone who knew something about her, some thread he could pull, and then everything would make sense again. people always made sense once you knew their story. this would be the same.

he found a familiar beggar on the street, an old man whose network of contacts and gossip sources probably rivaled half the sect intelligence divisions in the kingdom. the head of the beggars union branch in louyang.

chung myung approached him casually.

"hey you. beggar," he called out.

hong daekwang recognised him immediately. "mount hua's divine dragon!" and sent out a greeting, asking what was it he needed.

"i want information." chung myung responded simply.

they settled down inside, and chung myung sat on a chair like he's the boss.

"do you know of the inn past the east market? ch...chen inn. the one with the plum blossom trees, with a sign nobody can find, and a path that eats wrong turns for breakfast?" he blurted out.

hong daekwang blinked at him slowly with a dumb expression. "...what inn?"

chung myung described it again more careful and detailed, describing the location more precisely as it might suddenly jog the man's memory. plum trees in full bloom. wooden sign brushed in plain black characters. the kind of path that required either insider knowledge or a small miracle and decent luck.

the beggar squinted and thought about it harder than previously but then casually shrugged. "i've never heard of it."

which should have been the end of it, except chung myung wasn't done. no, he was determined!

he tried two more beggars from a different location, a tea seller, a chestnut vendor who seemed to know every breathing soul in the district by name and reputation.

but...

no nothing. no inn.

...what was up with that?! fine, that made sense, the location alone would explain why nobody had heard of it.

so he changed his approach. he asked about the girl instead, just her. divorced entirely from the location. a woman with long hair and a calm voice, she hits like she means business when someone calls her old—

and got absolutely nothing!

not "i don't know her," not "she keeps to herself," not any of the usual half answers people give when they're being polite about not knowing something.

just blank. fucking blank. the same blank you'd get for asking someone what they had for breakfast on a tuesday three years ago because there's literally, nothing to say! and there was no name circulating, no rumors, and no history.

and as far as the entire gossip network of the district was concerned, this woman didn't exist and never had at all.

which made zero sense to him.

everyone existed in somebody's gossip! chung myung had information on people he had talked to for thirty seconds a decade ago.

and this woman who worked in a business, served food, presumably bought supplies and paid someone something—had left behind less of a trail than a damn ghost!!

he fussed about it.

he stood in the middle of the street with that thought in his hands, turning it times and times over with his arms crossed. not knowing whether he wanted to chase it or let it drop.

is there really nothing? he questioned himself finally.

suddenly, his stomach growled, loud and undeniable. reminding him that the inn's food like the pork jiejie cooks dissolves in your mouth like water.

and whatever mystery that woman was and has, it could definitely wait until after lunch...hehe.

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[reader] had woken up late.

the sun was already high when she dragged herself out of bed and by the time she had made it to the inn to open up, it was already past nine.

she stood there at the door for a moment with a key in her hand, wondering if the universe was trying to tell her something. the day had started strange and in her experience, strange mornings led to strange days and strange days were the exact kind of thing she's been trying to avoid her whole entire life.

so exhausting... she grimaced.

but she opened the inn anyway, because, duh, that was the only option available to her.

the morning had been quiet, which should have been good...except she'd spent most of it cleaning and thinking about yesterday which was absolutely not good.

she had gotten curious, which was never a trait that served her wel, and it was that particular curiosity that had her leaving the inn mid morning to track down one of the beggars that congregated near the east market.

she found one easily enough.

[reader] offered him a handful of coins that she'd gotten from her unexpected benefactor the night before, and asked him about mount hua sect's disciples. specifically, about the ones who'd been circulating in people's mouth as of lately.

the beggar had plenty of things to say, which would have been great...except none of it was actually useful!

and everything took twice as long as it needed to. ugh.

jo gul had apparently grown another two inches tall and could supposedly uproot trees now, a claim that had passed through so many mouths it was probably unrecognizable by the time it reached her ears.

yoon jong was described as the steady one. the senior disciple that somehow made everyone around him look bad just through sheer existing without anyone actually resenting him for it.

baek cheon got more of a reverence in the beggar's tone which was usually reserved for retired generals and temple statues. mount hua's righteous sword and according to him, "the only one of them with any sense, which isn't saying much."

yu iseol came up quieter and careful. he went on about her silence was intimidating and that she had beaten a tang clan family member, tang hak, in a duel, completely overpowering him.

and then there was tang soso, who had apparently walked away from her own clan, given that women didn't have much of a future there, to study the sword under a sect best known for nearly getting wiped off the map. the beggar called her "promising" and [reader] had gotten the distinct impression he didn't actually know what that meant and had just liked the sound of it.

but that was all preamble.

the real performance started the moment mount hua's divine dragon came up. the beggar's whole posture changed. his shoulders came up, his voice dropped into the register and then he told her things she already knew...

the divine dragon had dominated the worldly murim competition, cleaned house so thoroughly it was almost embarrassing for everyone else. the divine dragon had hauled mount hua's reputation back from the dead in under a year singlehandedly blahblahblah, the divine dragon could probably flatten a mountain (the beggar wasn't entirely sure on that one, but he wasn't ruling it out either)

[reader] had nodded along to all of it. (painstakingly)

great, she'd thought. and not one word about why he face planted into my compost pile.

she sighed when she got back to the inn, the first of many sighs that would pepper the rest of the morning.

she was secretly hoping that the devil incarnate wouldn't show up at the inn to cause a mess again.

and although he had given her more money than necessary, she preferred to keep her distance anyway. unpredictable people are risky and dangerous to be around. they disturbed the peace and quiet. and quite frankly, you wouldn't really know what to expect around them.

at least he hadn't shown up yet. she was grateful for that much.

except there was a bang outside...

her heart jumped, stupid thing, hoping it wasn't him, not yet, not when she was still so uncertain about how to handle yesterday's events.

but the source turned out to be infinitely more manageable.

two fat raccoons came trotting through the door like they owned the place, riding in on a gust of cool mountain air. their little feet tapping out a rhythm on the wooden floor.

"what do you guys want, hm? i already fed you three sweet potatoes, one corn and two apples," she called out, exasperated.

though they both flinched at the sound of her voice, they came to her feet anyway. snuggling up looking kind of cute that clearly worked on her because she fed them regardless.

"...trash pandas." [reader] clicked her tongue.

at some point, she decided to give them a name properly instead of just "raccoon one" and "raccoon two" .

heizi and baizi.

(heizi = little blackie/black stone)

(baizi = little whitey/white stone)

they had grown on her, these two. but she wasn't about to admit out loud how fond she had become of them.

watching them eat made her stomach growl. she hadn't eaten that morning as she had been in too much of a rush to go find information and now her body was staging a quiet rebellion.

she chose to ignore it and turned her attention to cleaning up the vegetables she had pulled earlier, the ones she'd meant to sort for the raccoons before getting distracted by something else entirely.

her fingers had been reaching for a basket when one piece fell, and that's when she saw it.

a ginseng, old and gnarled, nestled among the regular vegetables as if its not the odd one out.

she picked it up and turned it over in her hands, wondering how something like that had ended up mixed in with her regular supplies. maybe it had come with a shipment, gotten muddled up somehow, she thought.

she paused as she looked at it. and made a decision that would, in retrospect, turn out to be profoundly stupid.

the second she bit into it and swallowed, she knew she had made a mistake.

what the fuck?!?!?!

the poison hit her like a physical thing. spreading from her stomach outward in waves of discomfort that became agony in seconds. her skin had started turning black, the corruption moving outward from her core and she had dropped the ginseng with a gasp.

how am i so unlucky?

[reader]'s legs gave out and she had fallen hard on the floor, ass flat. the impact was jarring and for a moment she just laid there wondering if this was actually how she was going to die, poisoned by a suspicious ginseng.

but her instinct naturally kicked in.

she closed her eyes and focused her qi on expelling the poison through sheer force of will, burning it out of her body in a burst of golden light and power.

heizi and baizi had scattered immediately, their fat little bodies booking it for the exit the second the light started emanating, and she had been left alone on her kitchen floor, gasping, covered in black soot, smelling absolutely horrible.

UGH. [reader] revolted in disgust.

when she had finally caught her breath, and when the black stuff had stopped seeping out of her skin, she looked at what was left of the ginseng with something close to awe.

holy shit.

that was some serious powerful stuff.

damn it... mere poison would be destroyed the moment it entered my body back in the day. she narrowed her eyes. ...have i gone weak?

[reader] sighs and looks up at the ceiling in annoyance. it's been a century since i unsheathed my sword...

then...

this was training material!

so of course she would eat the rest of it.

the second dose had gone down easier. though it still burned on the way through and forced her qi to work overtime to process it, she could feel her core stabilizing, growing denser—stronger, and more resilient than it had been in a century. a warm up, she thought.

finally, something that would actually push her.

"this is really tasty," she breathed out, still crouching on her kitchen floor covered in black residue. "how unfortunate, other people cannot eat such delicacy."

and because the universe had a sense of timing, a familiar voice drifted in from the entrance.

"delicacy? i would love to taste whatever jiejie is eating."

her entire body had gone rigid. she whipped around so fast her neck had cracked audibly, and there he was...

standing in the doorway like some kind of romantic male lead in a stallion novel she reads during her free time, grinning and leaning against the threshold with his arms crossed as if he owns the place.

​mount hua's divine dragon.

​he was back.

​her stomach had done an unhelpful flip (organ failure) she'd been sitting on her kitchen floor covered in poison soot, looking absolutely ridiculous.

even if she knew he'd be back since he always keeps his promises (albeit mostly the bad ones) did he really have to come back when she was stuffing her face with this ginseng looking like a chipmunk?

​chung myung, for his part, had taken all of about two seconds to process the situation in front of him.

jiejie was on the floor with a mess scattered all around her and black something seeping out of her clothes and the whole place reeked. and she was eating something that looked suspiciously like it could be poisonous.

​"what, why are you—spit it out!" he shouted, his eyes nearly popping out of his skull.

​"uhh??"

​"do you want to die?! spit that out right now!!!" he roared but she didn't obliged. she just shoved the rest of it in her mouth and swallowed before he could do anything about it.

​he stared at her in disbelief, his hands flying to his hair in sheer frustration. "you crazy woman! are you insane?!"

​he closed the distance between them in about two strides and grabbed her by the shoulders, shaking her as if that would somehow make her cough it back up.

"are you crazy? do you want to die?" he kept saying, words tumbling out in a rush, something that almost sounded like, concern if you squinted at it right.

he cupped her cheek with one hand, opened her mouth to check with the other and examined her face with an intensity that made her forget how to breathe for a second. but still somehow managed to maintain a sort of gentlemanly distance despite clearly freaking out about the whole situation.

​"i'm fine," she tried to say, her voice muffled against his fingers. "there's no need to be worried, young disciple. i have experience with—"

"you...you!" he snapped, throwing his hands up. "first you hide an inn where no human being can find it and now you're snacking on lethal weeds like they're candied hawthorns! is this a hobby for you?!"

​she flinched so hard she've practically folded in on herself, suddenly smaller, suddenly very aware that she was covered in black poison soot and he was very much not. she hadn't understood what he meant and chose to stay quiet rather than escalate things.

she could feel the fraying edges of his patience, the moment he was about to start yelling again.

​he rolled his eyes and muttered something under his breath that sounded suspiciously like "why is she treating me like a child"

​"you smell like you swam and danced with rats." he declared, pinching his nose with a look of dramatic disgust. "go take a bath! right now! move move move!"

now that he mentioned it, yeah she does smell like she swam and danced with rats, but did he really have to say it like that?

​[reader] tried to argue but he was already grabbing her arm and steering her towards the wash basin room.

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by the time [reader] finished bathing and returned to the main inn, properly dressed and only mildly mortified, chung myung had finished cleaning up the kitchen disaster and was now settling himself at a table as he planned to stay for a while.

she almost wanted to thank him for the cleaning up before remembering that he was the one who bullied her into bathing in the first place.

"you can stop doing that," she said instead, trying for pleasant, trying for professional, trying not to think about the fact that he was now watching her work with such intensity.

"while we see nothing wrong with customers cleaning up, it's my duty to do such things."

chung myung scoffed at her. "i'm all done, there's nothing for jiejie to clean."

she accepted that and moved forward, busying herself with work while he relaxed at his table, rolling his shoulders.

"right...uh, what can i get for you?"

naturally, he ordered his meal next, and it was clear he learned absolutely nothing from his previous visit because he ordered enough food for a small army. two bowls of chicken noodle soup, four steamed dumplings, one spicy marinated tofu, three ribs, and five bottles of aged shaoxing rice wine.

it was lesser than last night's but still a lot for one person.

she stared at the order. damn.

"...the young disciple eats with enthusiasm," she finally managed to say.

"it's good food," he said around a mouthful of something before she even finished serving it. "and don't call me 'young disciple' again." he muttered with distaste.

[reader] didn't understand what he wanted to imply by that. what does he want me to call him then!

so she went to make the rest of the meal, moving through the kitchen with practiced efficiency, and when she returned with everything balanced carefully on her arms, he had already settled into the rhythm of absolutely devouring his meal as if someone would come steal it.

"ahaaha... i'm glad you're enjoying it," she sweatdropped.

[reader] felt a sense of deja vu.

they had fallen into a comfortable quiet after that. with just the sounds of him eating and her sipping her tea at the counter. she had been watching him from behind her cup when he have suddenly spoken.

​"you're not drinking with me," he said, not even looking up from his meal.

​"...well i'm working."

​"you ate poison this morning." now he looked up with his eyebrow raised, staring at her like she was an absolute lunatic. "a whole damn stalk of it. while i was right there screaming at you. people who eat poison don't get to use the 'i'm working' excuse, jiejie." he rolled his eyes.

​[reader] nearly choked on her tea, her grip tightening around the ceramic cup until her knuckles went white. her heart gave an unhelpful, frantic thud against her ribs. does he know? no no, no, he can't possibly...

​"that was... an accident," she managed, her voice a little too tight, forcing her face into a smooth, blank mask.

​"an accident?" he scoffed, pointing a chopstick at her. "you shoved the rest of it in your mouth after i told you it was toxic! throwing it out would’ve been wasteful, you said! who thinks like that?!"

​"...a frugal business worker?" she said unsure, her chest squeezing with anxiety.

[reader] quickly grabbed the teapot, her fingers trembling just enough that the porcelain rattled against the tray. she desperately needed him to stop talking about it. "a little poison is... manageable."

​he set his cup down with a sharp clack that made her flinch half an inch. "a little poison," he repeated, mostly to himself, shaking his head in sheer disbelief. "you're out of your mind. truly."

​her shoulders had crept up half an inch, defensive, her mind racing to find a way to redirect his attention before he started digging deeper into her identity. "i am perfectly ordinary, young disciple. the young disciple exaggerates."

​"i don't exaggerate!" he barked, leaning forward over the table, his gremlin energy returning at full force. "you live in a ghost town. you run a tavern that requires a compass and a prayer to find. you play weiqi against yourself and you eat death roots for a morning snack! what part of that is ordinary?!" he said all of that in under five seconds. (impressive)

​[reader]'s stomach did a miserable flip. please just eat your soup. please just drop it.

​"more tea?" she asked hesitantly, her customer service smile plastered onto her face like a desperate shield as she stepped forward to pour, hoping to drown out his questions with hot water.

​he accepted with a grunt and she poured.

chung myung turned his attention toward the weiqi board still sitting at the end of the counter, its stones scattered mid game from yesterday.

his entire face had lit up, the probing tension instantly vanishing into childish excitement. "hey, is that from yesterday?"

​[reader] turned to what he was saying. "yes, it is."

​"you didn't finish it?"

​"i was going to..."

​"play me." he demanded suddenly, slapping a hand on the table.

​"i, i'm working!" [reader] blurted out, the excuse slipping out automatically because the thought of sitting that close to mount hua's divine dragon while her nerves were already frayed was terrifying.

​"you're always working!" he complained loudly, throwing his head back like a toddler being denied a toy. "does this place ever close?! are you a ghost? play a game with me, i paid you enough to buy the whole inn!"

​"it closes at night..."

​"that's not what i meant!" he groaned, slumping in his seat.

​[reader] just opted to chuckle nervously, her heart finally slowing down by a fraction as she quickly retreated behind the safety of the counter.

he looked at her a second too long before deciding the food in front of him was a more of a pressing concern. he got right back to eating.

he randomly pointed at random dishes and asked what was in them, and every so often he'd announce through a mouth full of food that the soup was "almost too good" which she recognized as the highest praise he was capable of giving.

at some point, two small shapes had appeared at the kitchen doorway with noses working overtime, trying to weigh the smell of pork against the very real risk of getting caught.

"..are those the raccoons from yesterday?" he asked, following her gaze.

"yeah, uh, they live around here."

he chewed obnoxiously loud. "they live here?"

"around... there's a difference."

chung myung hummed thoughtfully. "what're they called?"

[reader] debated on giving him the information before deciding it was probably harmless. "heizi, and baizi." she pointed to each.

he contemplated about it for a moment before an idea sparked in him. "oh, like the stones?"

"like the stones."

something flickered across his face. "hmmm. not bad. not bad at all."

"your approval means so much," [reader] said dryly.

heizi had taken that as permission and waddled fully into the room, planting himself directly under chung myung's chair on the very reasonable theory that meat occasionally fell from tables.

chung myung looked down and heizi looked up. neither of them moved for a solid moment.

"don't feed him from the table," she warned, already knowing exactly how this would go.

"i wasn't going to!" he said with a tone that didn't sound convincing at all.

a piece of pork had hit the floor four seconds later.

...brat.

she didn't comment on it and heizi hadn't wasted the opportunity either.

three bottles of shaoxing wine in, the alcohol was loosening his tongue, and chung myung was propping his chin in his hand, squinting at her with that annoying, persistent curiosity of his. "hey. how long have you even lived out here anyway?"

​[reader] froze mid wipe, the rag halting against the wooden counter.

the anxiety, which had briefly settled, spiked right back up into her throat. don'tsayanythingsuspicious.

​"a—a while," she said carefully. damn it! i stuttered. she cursed herself inwardly.

​he visibly frowned. "how long is a while?"

​"a while-while."

​chung myung let out a loud, frustrated groan, slamming his fist on the table so hard the empty soup bowls rattled. "what the hell is 'a while-while'? is that a number?! just say the number of years!"

​she blanched, the color draining entirely from her cheeks and chose not to give an answer. instead, her mind went entirely blank with panic, and she instantly channelled all of her terrifying anxious energy into the rag in her hand. she kept her eyes glued to the counter and began scrubbing a spot that was already perfectly clean with absolute, furious intensity, hoping that if she pretended to be deaf, he would disappear.

​he opened his mouth like he wanted to yell but decided against it as it was too much work to argue with a literal brick wall. he slumped back, muttering loudly, "crazy, difficult woman. no wonder you only have raccoons for friends."

​[reader] hid her face behind her teacup, allowing herself a tiny, relieved smile, though her hands were still cold from the adrenaline.

i swear i'm a dull and tedious person! there's absolutely nothing suspicious about me!

(and somewhere, in a distant part of her mind, she'd been faintly aware that this was the exact thought that had gotten every protagonist in every story she'd ever read into catastrophic trouble, but she'd chosen, wisely, not to dwell on it.)

eventually the food had run out. chung myung had leaned back with both hands pressed to his stomach, looking like a man who had just won a war against an enemy made entirely of dumplings and his own appetite.

​"that," he announced to the empty room, "was good." patting his own belly that gained, like what, five pounds?

​[reader] offered an anxious smile. "i'm glad."

​he stood up and stretched until something in his back had cracked audibly, before reaching into his robes.

she braced herself for the sound of coins, and was still somehow not prepared enough for when an entire second pouch hit the counter.

[reader] picked it up and felt the weight of it. she stared at him. "...really? are you serious—this is too much again."

​"keep it," he said, already moving for the door, rolling one shoulder out as to relieve physical tension. "...call it an apology for yesterday." he murmured so very lowly.

​she paused, looking up from the heavy pouch. the lingering anxiety from his interrogations made her want to push back, just a little to regain her footing. (lol)

"...an apology for what, exactly?"

okay somehow that was the worst thing she could have possible said at that time because chung myung froze right at the threshold.

​he didn't look cool or mysterious at all. instead, a massive, furious flush of red hit his ears and he whipped around, looking entirely caught off guard and completely scandalized at what she actually said out loud.

he looked less like a grandmaster and more like a red tomato.

​"you—! i was drunk!" he barked out, his voice cracking slightly as his usual loud bravado went entirely out the window. "forget it! wipe it from your brain!"

​"well i really can't..."

after shamelessly doing those things?

​"well, try harder!" he roared, his face entirely red now as he stomped across the threshold. "stupid inn! stupid jiejie! don't expect me back!"

don't threaten me with a good time...

​and then he was gone, the door slamming shut behind him so hard the little bell rang aggressively.

she stood there holding a pouch heavy enough to run the inn for a two months (if she counted last nights payment, that'd be five), staring at the space where he had been as if he might materialize again if she looked hard enough.

"huh." she said to nobody in particular.

she looked at the pouch thoughtfully. this kid could probably fund this entire inn for the rest of time and never even notice the money was gone. should i ask the young disciple to be my benefactor?

he was younger than her by roug̵̨̥͍̭̼̳̊͋̀̐͜ͅͅh̵̨̖̭̮̘̪̀̃l̷̥͎̜̱̘͔̋͆̍y̵̧̨̨̰̬̼̖̣̟̾́̿̅̓̒͘͘ ██5███ ŷ̵̥̭̹̣̱̺̊̈́̆̊͗̉̑̕e̵̪͍̪̼̦͚͙̭̜͐̍͆͘ͅa̷͖̒̌̎̿̎͝rs, he drank like it was a competitive sport, and called her an old hag within ten minutes of meeting her.

absolutely not. she had standards!

if anything, it should go the other way around. she should be the one tossing him a pouch of coins and telling him to enjoy himself. that was how the natural order of things worked.

[reader] cleaned up the place rigorously. she swept where he had tracked in dirt and put the go board away properly this time since no one would be coming back to it today. heizi and baizi had relocated to a sunny patch by the stove and curled into a single lump of fur, completely unbothered by the chaos that had unfolded just hours earlier.

"sigh. you two have it easy," she told them, meaning every word.

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by the time she finished closing up, the light had shifted again, that same gold and long quality it had yesterday, the plum trees casting soft shadows across the path. she locked the door and flipped the sign, before she started the walk home with her basket on her arm and two raccoons trailing behind her.

the forest was quiet. the creek caught the last of the light in scattered gold pieces. somewhere above her, a bird called twice then went silent.

she had no idea that several hundred meters up and to her left, on a rock outcropping that offered an unreasonably good view of the path below, someone was watching her go.

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chung myung had found the spot by accident the first time, scrambling up whatever rock was closest just to put distance between himself and his baek sasuk who was chasing him for stirring trouble. (yet again)

he hadn't planned on coming back. and yet here he was again with a bottle in hand, watching a woman walk home with two raccoons trailing behind her as if it's the most natural thing in the world for a person to do.

he sat on the edge with one knee drawn up, the other leg dangling, a half empty bottle hanging loosely from his fingers.

below, [reader] paused at the creek and crouched down for a moment. she said something to one of the raccoons that he couldn't hear and kept walking.

he drank but he couldn't really taste anything.

something was happening in his chest and he didn't have a name for it.

it wasn't poison, he'd checked that twice already as his core was completely clean. not hunger, not after the meal he'd just put away, (though admittedly his appetite operated on different rules than normal people)

whatever he was feeling, it sat low and warm and refused to leave. and the longer he watched her disappear and reappear between the trees, the worse it got.

he frowned at the bottle as if it provided answers he wanted.

he had met a lot of people in his time. understatement! considering he lived two lives now, the first one ending on a battlefield that smelled like blood and plum blossoms, the second one currently in progress. sect leaders, emperors, one man who'd insisted with total sincerity that he was actually three people stacked inside a coat.

chung myung liked to think he had a fairly comprehensive catalog of human behavior by now.

but this woman didn't fit anywhere in it.

it wasn't the strength. he had plenty of suspicions there, but he was filing those under later for now. plenty of people were strong (in a way...)

it wasn't the strangeness either and although she was plenty strange, what kind of person lives this far out, runs a place nobody can find, and treats an old poisonous root like a snack? strange people were usually the interesting ones in his experience.

it was something underneath that.

he hated not knowing things. that was just true about him, same as his preference for good food, same as his hatred of the nine great sects, same as never once in either of his lives developing anything resembling a soft spot for someone who wasn't from mount hua.

he was bad at this whatever this was. he had known that about himself for over a hundred years and made his peace with it.

below, [reader] reached the bottom of the path. the trees swallowed both her and the raccoons. she was gone.

he sat there a while longer anyway. (thinking about her...)

chung myung drank again and lay back against the rock with the bottle balanced on his chest, before watching the sky start to bruise purple at the edges.

he told himself, with all the confidence of a man about to be catastrophically, spectacularly wrong, that there was absolutely no way some strange woman running an inn in the middle of nowhere was going to be that someone who finally cracked through years of him simply not caring about people.

﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌

murim secrets: y/n is ancient! is she who she believes herself to be?

“enjoy the silence”

“if you continually decide to faithfully pursue the policy of truth”

“put it on, please don’t question why”

“clean, the cleanest i’ve been”

“dangerous, the way you leave me wanting more”

Mina looked like she was in her mid-30s with all her late night emergency PR meetings taking a toll on her physically, but she was just 29 years old. Haechan not being here wasn’t exactly helping her ease the stress she was experiencing. Though, it must have been such a relief that this whole meeting wasn’t an emergency, but one she deliberately set up in the first place.

“He’s always late, isn’t he?” Not that he knew Haechan well enough now as an adult to know about his habits, but the once in a blue moon family gatherings where he attends with her always meant that Lee Donghyuck would arrive late with a sorry look on his face.

Mina bites down her tongue and then simply opens her iPad. “He isn’t exactly fond of seeing me…” her voice drifts into silence.

Nor was he any excited to be in a meeting with Jung Yewon.

Then a familiar shadow walks across the frosted glass. His back hunched forward and his feet were dragged on the floor. He opened the door with one hand, while the other was holding onto a cup of coffee he had obviously bought from the company cafe a few floors down.

He was swishing the cup around, mixing the ice with whatever drink he had bought from the cafe. 

The moment he walked in, anyone could already tell that he wasn’t amused with seeing both Mina and Haewon sitting in the meeting room. He stops there at the entrance of the meeting room and gave the two a good three second stare before taking the seat opposite to Haewon. The cup was placed on the table with no coaster and was beginning to leave moist stains on the desk, but that was Mina’s last concern.

Mina sighs and then leans forward taking a few seconds to look at Haewon then to Haechan. “What’s going on between the two of you?” So blunt that even Haewon was caught off guard.

Haechan’s face remained blank and unreadable, while Yewon rolled her eyes and then looked at Mina. “I’d rather quit than be whatever you think we are.”

“Fine, there’s nothing going on, but how do you know each other, because you’ve never trained together nor shared classes together when you were training.” Mina leans back and grabs a chair.

“Our parents are friends. We went to school, but that’s it.” Haechan answers quickly.

Mina sits there, her expression not changing but she examines Haechan closely. Yewon wasn’t sure what it was but there was a silent sigh coming from Mina’s whole being at this point. 

She slides her chair to the side as she opens her iPad and the meeting room TV. It takes a moment for her to connect, but she pauses and then looks back up at the two of us. “Well, whatever unsolved tension the two of you have put it aside because the numbers are showing something the two of you should be excited about.” 

Both Haechan and Yewon knew exactly what was going on. They were idols who were conscious of their reputation, it was inevitable that they would find out about the internet going crazy over one small interaction they shared. It was also hard to miss when everyone they personally knew had been messaging them non-stop. Well, everyone except their parents, who knew all too well that they were the last two people on earth to ever end up together. 

“With your second solo album coming out soon,” Mina looks at Haechan, “and your group’s recent comeback activities,” She looked over at Haewon, “this is the best time to think about possibly giving everyone what they desire.” 

Desire? More like forcing down their throats at this point, because if they were even paying attention properly there was no way people would think they looked good when Yewon was trying her best not to glare at her senior. 

“We’ll do just fine without it.” Haechan sighs, crossing his arms over his chest.

“Fine?” Mina raised an eyebrow. She changes the slide on the TV. It took the two a moment to realize what the numbers were. Right in front of them was the data of the people visiting their groups’ social media pages in the last 24 hours since the news broke out. “Does this look like any other day for your traction?"

 You didn’t have to have the brain of a rocket scientist to understand the numbers on the screen. Especially not to two idols who were trained with learning how to read this kind of numbers, because public attention was a limited resource. This is the expensive commodity that idols fight each other for and right now it is being served to them on a silver platter.

The numbers were so good, that Haechan had to turn away, because it was this exact kind of numbers that forced the young barely adults NCT Dream to make mistakes. “You’ve done this before and I’m not falling for it, Mina.” 

This catches Haewon’s attention. What does he mean by before? She couldn’t help but ponder and think about it. Then her mind slowly drifts into the only dating news that ever came from NCT Dream. 

It was a PR disaster. That’s how Haechan remembers it. They were brought in by numbers and the promise of having larger tractions online that they had jeopardized their member’s relationship because of their greed. 

Mina sighs. “What had happened with Renjun before was a mistake and we’ve made amends with both parties since. If you do not trust me, let the numbers speak for themselves.” 

On the other hand, Stellight hasn’t been in the public eye for as long as NCT has but they weren’t some unknown group at all. They had group recognition, but lacked when it came to member retention. She knew that this was going to be a selfish choice, but if it means it would get her name out there the prospect of publicly acknowledging a relationship didn’t seem that bad.

Except the moment she turned around and saw Haechan sitting there, every fiber in her being began folding inward.

Haechan was still looking away from Mina and his arms crossed over his chest, but every once in a while he was un-cross them to grab a drink.

“You don’t understand how large of an opportunity this is, do you?” She shifts to her browser and then it immediately lands on a site designed so poorly that only a subtle color red stood out at the top; it was a simple header that read out ‘Love Line’. “This gossip site barely had five visitors before they published their article about the two of you. The moment they did talk about the two of you, their viewer count multiplied into the thousands.” 

This was the reality of it all. This wasn’t just a once in a lifetime opportunity for the both of them, but this may just be their only shot into becoming a household name. They’ve both spent enough time in the industry to know that this wasn’t a feat that could be done by anyone. Not everyone is lucky enough for an opportunity like this to be served on a gold platter in front of them. This is exactly the point when they say that fame isn’t just talent, it’s opportunity and a shit ton of luck.

For the first time since they entered the room, Yewon and Haechan turned to look at each other. Their eyes were speaking like kids being forced to communicate without talking. Mina witnessed it first hand, they had no chemistry at all. They looked like small kids arguing at the corner of the playground arguing about whose turn it was to go on the swing.

“I’m down.” Yewon speaks just before their stare off ended.

Haechan’s hands immediately slam on the desk. “Jung Haewon!” Calling her by a name that not even her parents use anymore to call her felt like it was dipping into territory a little too personal.

“What?” Her head snaps back at Haechan. 

“What the hell?” 

“Oh, come on! Donghyuck,” again with their real names, “look at it. This isn’t an everyday thing even for you!” At this point Yewon’s arms were swinging around her to make a point.

“I’d rather step on shit right this moment than pretend to even be remotely in love with someone who has always been a nuisance in my life.” 

Yewon points to herself surprised. “Me? Your nuisance? For fuck’s sake Donghyuck look in the mirror, will you?” 

“I have you—”

“Wait—” Mina tries to butt in, but with Yewon standing up and Haechan ready to pounce on her at this very moment she wasn’t exactly sure how to stop a possible physical fight between them. 

“If we’re being honest, this is my only chance to create a distinction from my groupmates. Not that I hate them, but we’ve been a group for seven years and no solo projects have come our way. This is my one chance.” Yewon reasons out before Haechan could even finish talking.

“Yewon, Haechan, please calm down.” The worse thing to say to two people who have been in absolute competition since they were 10 years old.

“Are you getting back at me for winning that singing competition more than a decade ago?” Haechan slowly began to stand up and for the first time in the years that Yewon has known him, this was genuinely the first time she had noticed that he was much taller than she was. 

“Oh, we’re not going there.” She shakes her head. 

“Yes, we are, because you decided to make my life a living hell by showing up in the same company as I did.” Haechan doesn’t back down.

Yewon shakes her head. “A little reminder, you auditioned, I got casted—” 

“Guys!” Mina finally catches the attention of the two idols. She was trying to catch her breath as the two idols began to realize what kind of bomb they just exposed in front of Mina. They’ve spent years pretending not to know each other because this is how they would often explode when they were together.

Mina, who unknowingly stood up as well, slouches back into her seat. “I get it, you won’t do it. Can we just move on and live our lives like this never happened?” 

Haechan turns his head towards Mina. “Who said we weren’t going to do it?” 

Mina sat up and looked at Haechan, who was so clearly opposing this whole setup earlier. “What?” 

Haechan sighs. “You’re right, I need traction especially with my next album. This ugly’s reason is alright, so I’m down with doing it. Even if it means I have to rip my eyeballs off just to look at her.” He points at Yewon like she was the most disgusting thing in the room.

“Like I wouldn’t puke just looking at you.” 

Haechan doesn’t verbally react, but his face surely did. He was taunting her like a child in the playground looking for more kids to hate him. 

“I’ll leave first, Mina.” Yewon looks down at her phone realizing that she was going to be late to her appointment. “I’d rather talk to you than even talk to him about this whole thing.” She motions to Haechan, of course. 

Mina nods her head in disbelief.

“Why the hell are you leaving before me?” Haechan immediately noticed.

“You were literally late, so I now have to rush to my next appointment.” Yewon walked towards the door.

“Is it my fault now?” 

Yewon couldn’t believe what she was hearing at this point that she had to stop before opening the door to the conference room. “You were literally late!” As Yewon exits, Haechan wouldn’t allow her to be the first one out of the office before he left.

Even with who went first or last, they were arguing about who would go first.

As Yewon and Haechan’s argument disappeared into the hallway and then into the elevators of the building, the only one left in the conference room was Mina, who was beginning to regret ever bringing up the possibility of Haechan and Yewon being their first PR couple in years since Renjun’s unfortunate case.

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˚⋆CHAPTER 1.

-𝐎𝐍𝐋𝐘 𝐃𝐄𝐀𝐓𝐇 𝐒𝐇𝐀𝐋𝐋 𝐁𝐄 𝐌𝐘 𝐒𝐀𝐕𝐈𝐎𝐑

˚⋆CHAPTER 2.

-𝐓𝐎 𝐘𝐎𝐔, 𝐖𝐇𝐎𝐌 𝐈 𝐌𝐄𝐓 𝐈𝐍 𝐀𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐑 𝐋𝐈𝐅𝐄

.

.

⋆Tw: Heavy angst, Major character death, Mentions of war and disembowelment, Forbidden love, Swearing, Hurt no comfort, Graphic mentions of blood, Betrayal

⋆Before Reading: At no point in writing this story have I used AI or any sort of plagiarism/copying. If you feel uncomfortable with my writing whilst reading this, please leave for both your comfort and mine.

⋆Taglist!: @winteryreads @millucid @dogdais (comment under this post to be added in the taglist)

August 18, 5:30 am.

You were dragging in your boxes, grumbling about the cold biting at your fingertips as you hauled your heavy mattress into the dorm. Thankfully you don't have much, you like to keep it minimal when it came to moving days. Just the essentials and a few cool wall decorations. The rest can come later when you actually make enough money at your shit side job.

You kick the door open with your foot, grimacing at the fact that your room was already cut in half thanks to a surprise roommate. Great. 'Don't know why I thought I'd get this room to myself. Of course college screws me over last second.'

You purse your lips as you drop the mattress down into the metal frame they provide you with in your dorms. Usually it comes with the mattress, but apparently last year there was a big bed bug outbreak and they had to start throwing beds away. A miracle really, usually they just leave it and let the students worry about it.

You drop your black duffle bag off on top of the mattress, making sure to ignore the other side of the room. Your mystery roomie wasn't here, but you weren't looking forward to them showing up. Especially not with the jersey hanging proudly on the wall. School colors. This asshole was probably on a team here—or was a super fan. Both ideas pissed you off. You didn't want to deal with a potential frat boy while you were trying to focus on your studies and graduate. Survival over fun. At least for right now.

You made it to this college on a string of luck, fifty different applications and one big scholarship. You weren't going to risk blowing your shot. This was your big moment and you couldn't risk losing it all over parties and 4 shots of whiskey.

You unpack your clean grey bedsheet, blanket, and one pillow with a matching grey pillow case. You didn't really care if it was boring, it made it easy to see when it needed cleaning. You take out your laptop, the printed out textbooks you pirated off the internet, and your notebooks. Labeling starts as soon as you get your schedule. You tuck your books and papers away in the given desk, and your stationary items are tucked away in neat spots. By the end of the semester, this desk will lose all organization. But for now, keep it neat and digestible. That's all you can do.

You wrap everything up with unpacking your laundry, putting up the few pictures on your wall, and of course, the most important, your empty corkboard.

All of this, just to still not be sure if this major is what you wanted. Wondering— is this the career you wanted to pursue? It was to late to backtrack now, however. You made it in. You sacrificed your teen years for academic prowess. The coffin has been made, now all you needed to do was lay in it.

You opened your laptop, trying to piece together the required classes for what degree you wanted by graduation. You planned to major Computer science, but you also wanted to do something in Criminology. A dilemma for sure. Since you were young, you always loved to listen to true crime podcasts, visit real crime scenes, read every interrogation transcript that you could get your hands on.

Always so fascinated with what could be going on in their heads to even reach the conclusion that they needed to take a life— or any other crime against another human being. You wanted to pick them clean, learn everything you could. The choice should be obvious.

Computer Science. You need money. Your family needs money. And unfortunately, boring coding and cubicles make more cash than investigation. Safer, too. But maybe, this semester you can fuck around and figure it out after.

"Hey, didn't know my roommate would be so... Uptight."

You turn to see a man with snow white hair, and eyes that looked as blue as ice. He was fairly tall, you cringed as a pretended to duck under the doorframe. He crossed his arms, lip drawn into a pout. Was he wearing lipgloss? It looked like it with how pink his lips were.

"I didn't know Jack Frost was my roomie either, but yet, here we are." You flash your teeth, not a trace of warmth.

He clicks his tongue, an eyebrow playfully raised.

"Sassy! That's refreshing." He took a seat on his office chair— backwards— of course. His arms rested on what was supposed to be the backrest of the chair, amusement squinting his eyes.

"Go ahead and act mean, I know I can crack that rough exterior you fake.

You roll your eyes, turning your attention back to your laptop, trying to dig through your email for the schedule. But snowcap just can't keep a lid on it. Of course.

"My name's Gojo Satoru, but you can just call me..." You can hear the cogs turn in his head, before he snaps his fingers.

" 'Toru! I don't like formalities."

You sigh through the nose, popping one of your knuckles out of pure habit.

"Satoru will do just fine."

Satoru helps himself to an amused hum, the sound seeming to scratch against your eardrums like wire hairs.

"And your name?"

You purse your lips, slowly turning your attention back to Satoru. He wore a shit-eating-grin on his face like a trophy. 'He won't let up until I tell him. Stellar.' your eyes rolls to the back of your head internally.

"It's Y/N. Why?"

You quip, not bothering to entertain his games.

"Hm... Just asking. What's your last name?"

You side eye him, but oblige anyway. If he's going to sleep in the same room as you, might as well be properly aquantied.

"L/N." You deadpan, reaching for your pen and a loose leaf paper to begin charting down a small journal entry. This guy would unfortunately, be a part of it.

"Huh." He scratches at his chin, the sound of the chair swiveling filling the gaps. You quirk an eyebrow, obviously suspicious of his confusion.

"Why?" You restate, a little more firm this time.

"You just remind me of someone, that's all. I thought you might be related, but I was very wrong!" His hands were held up either side of his head, as if surrendering. What he was surrendering from? Who's to say.

"Tch."

7:13 AM

Your first class starts, and thankfully you don't have to sit in a class room with Mr. Gojo Satoru, master of annoyance, defender of the insufferable. It's a quiet class, everyone nose deep in their screens as the professor goes over basic expectations and general ciriculum for the year. Standard. You write brief notes, but nothing crazy, just a reminders on sticky notes and slapping them into your calendar to be organized later. You're caught up in your own thoughts right up until the moment a flash of silver is caught in your peripheral, sitting down in the seat in front of you. You chose a seat a little further up in the rows, wanting to be away from potential distractions. Fate— with her cruel irony— plants one right in front of you.

Tattoos crawl up his neck, earlobes filled with silver gauges. His hair was jet black, with the few stray pink highlights at the tips. His looks weren't the main thing that caught your attention, however. It was his stature. He was large in every sense of the word. The tall, dark, and handsome stereotype was a fitting label— not that you found him attractive in that sense. He looked muscular but it's hard to tell since he wore a black hoodie. 'I really need to hit the gym.' You briefly glance at your own arms, flexing a little. Oh, you definitely still had it. 'If I didn't spend so much time studying I'd probably be shredded still.' The bulk built up was apparent. Something you would consider a nerf on your end for sure.

When you look back up, you see the ravenette looking back at you. His eyes a flash away from red, but it was just the lighting. They were most likely just amber. He raised a brow at you, matching black tattoos tracing his face. You bite the inside of your cheek.

"Can I help you?"

You play it off. He was the one looking at you, after all.

"No. Sorry about that." His brow wrinkles, those shiny gauges flashing again.

"I thought you were looking at me." He muttered, scratching at his neck. The ravenette turned back to his own work. Clicking away at his laptop and scribbling notes.

You let out a satisfied huff— something about making a guy bigger than you uncomfortable gave you pride. There's nothing better then scaring people off with the same cold personality you spent so long sharpening and refining.

8:45 AM

Class ends with an unceremonious "Dismissed!" From your professor. She seemed passionate, but your peers made it stuffy.

You sigh, packing the last of your random sticky notes. Your phone buzzed, text messages glowing on your lock screen.

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

Doc 🩺

You up? Found a good spot to eat. 😉

You unlock your phone, quickly typing back.

Yeah, I'm up. Had a class already.

Not a sloth like you, Doc. -_-

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

You step out of the building, cutting across campus and sitting under a tree on one of the outside benches. Your phone buzzed again.

Doc🩺: Ill meet you at the benches, save me a smoke. 😼

Got itt o7

You turn off your phone, breathing in the crisp morning air. Something beautiful about the blue sky, with stray clouds looming in the air. It was by no means aesthetic or picturesque, but it was genuine. You watch a few students go about their day, walking around campus to classes, possibly going to meet up with friends or grab breakfast. You sigh to yourself, letting your head hit the wood behind you. The wind whispers overhead—only a gentle chill. Nothing could bother you in this moment. It was beautiful peace, the reward you earned for all the years you studied. The birds above you in the trees seem to exchange pleasantries, flapping and conversing in a way you yearned to do— not that you had anyone you wanted to speak with.

A shuffle from the ground in front of you caught your attention. You lazily opened an eye, a clear sight of the ravenette from class in front of you. The sound of his slides coming to a halt.

"Am I interrupting?"

His voice was steady, a contrast to the discomfort he had muttered earlier in class. You exhale through your nose, amused.

"A little, but I forgive you."

You take note of him putting his hands in the pocket of his black hoodie when the breeze runs by.

"I did have something to ask you in homeroom, but I wasn't sure if you were preoccupied."

The bench creaks softly when you lift yourself up properly, your head the last to follow.

"Oh, yeah?"

You muse, a quirk in the corner of your mouth. It wasn't a smile—You don't smile. It was moreso akin to a smirk.

"What is it?"

The ravenette's jaw tightens ever-so-slightly. 'Nerves?' You pop your knuckles habitually, giving the gentleman a quick scan. Black hoodie half zipped up, white tee shirt under neath. A dog tag hanging around his neck with small marks carved into it's metal. Oversized jeans tethered and distressed at the hem— right above the heels of his feet, grey and red socks peaking out from underneath the dark blue denim. Black slides protecting him from the worn sidewalk.

He wasn't dressed as good as most should be for the chill that skipped along the walkways and leaped through the trees. He tilts his head to the side, jaw still stuck in that clenched state.

"You know anyone named Choso? Choso Kamo?"

You puff out a shot of air, letting your head lull back against the wooden backing of the bench.

"Nope. You should check with The Dean. They probably know a thing or two about students."

'Disappointing.' you think to yourself, though you didn't know what you should've been expecting. Maybe he would strike up a more interesting conversation? Though, these days many would rather keep to themselves. Expectations too high.

The ravenette hums, the sound of those slides shifting over concrete. You didn't bother to look.

"It's not that important anyway..." He drawled.

You dig in your pocket for a cigarette, sticking one behind your ear for Doc, and one in the corner of your mouth for yourself. You didn't light it. Just some stimulus. Something to prevent you from pointing out the way his feet dragged on the concrete as his weight shifted.

"What's your name?"

You ask, watching the birds above as they flit from branch to branch. You take particular interest in a pair of crows, both cawing away at each other. Some kind of lovers quarrel— you theorized.

"Sukuna."

He grunted, his chain jingling against the metal of his zipper track.

"And your last?"

You can hear him scowl. You cross your legs in response, feeling no true urgency. The two crows continue to chitter, one of them pecking at what you can now tell is a nest.

"Ryomen. Is that important?"

You chuckle.

"No. I was just curious."

You pull out your lighter, flicking it to life. The flame hovers at the end of your cigarette, igniting the addictive taste of tobacco and menthol.

"Then I don't see why you needed to know."

The two crows above you seem to quell their argument, opting to pick at each other's feathers and groom one another. A sweet gesture, you envied.

"If we're going to be classmates, then we should be acquainted, don't 'cha think?" It's rhetorical, but he still seems to answer.

The two crows are chased away from the tree by a bigger bird, white and proud. You didn't know enough about birds to profile it. You simply pursed your lips as the blackened duo flew away. A face with intricate tattoos came into your vision above you. His previously loud steps falling deaf on your ears. You shift your cigarette in place of surprise.

"If you want to get acquainted, then you should offer to buy me a coffee. Hm?" And then he smiled, something about the curl of his lip made you want to slap him. It had audacity. But you swallowed it down. It wasn't necessary.

"Can't today, I already got plans with a buddy of mine." And as if right on queue, Doc shows up. Her hair drawn back in a messy bun, pencils stuck through it and a white coat over her black turtle neck. You sit up in your seat, the ravenette giving you back the distance you had earlier.

"New boyfriend?" She quipped, a lazy smile dancing across her lips.

You sigh smoke through your nose, shrugging. It curls into the sky, then fades. Sukuna narrows his eyes at the brunette.

"Nah, just getting acquainted."

You wave Sukuna away and turns on his heel without a second thought. His slides slapping against his heels as he left. Good.

"Morning Shoko. How's your schedule looking?"

You get up from your spot on the bench, handing her the cigarette you had tucked away behind your ear. She laughed, sticking the cigarette between her teeth and leaning her unlit end you your lit one.

"It's been shit, sweetheart."

The nickname is more of an ironic inside joke, but it always stuck since highschool. At some point it became more about endearment and less about ripping on each other.

"Oh, yeah? More shit than Ichiji after his breakup with his girlfriend?"

Shoko blows her lips, getting a little spit on you. You let it slide.

"I'm drinking again."

You huff out smoke, dudding your cigarette out on the bottom of your shoe.

"Shit, that is bad."

You both laugh. The conversation that follows is simple small talk, catch up, something like a conversational appetizer. It always feels good to talk to Shoko, she's down to earth and honest. Something you have been struggling to find, lately.

9:27 AM, Bitter Bean Cafe

You sip your simple matcha latte, ignoring the way Shoko eyed you as she took a big gulp of her black coffee.

"So, you trying to put on the performative male act?

She teased, typing away at something on her phone.

You scoffed, eyes looking towards the display of breads and cakes.

"I actually like matcha. Drinking the shit you drink triggers my panic attacks.

I'd rather not freak out at..."

You check your phone's time.

"9:30 in the morning."

Shoko waves her hand as if she were swatting your words away. Irrelevant.

"Just say you're a coward."

You fake an offended gasp, lightly pounding your hand on the table as to not disturb the elderly couple next to you.

"Am not! I'm just focusing on my health more lately."

The brunette tucks a lose strand of hair behind her ear, taking a smaller sip from her cup of coffee.

"Anyways... You got any roomies?"

You feel the back of your eye itch. The mere reminder of that idiot was enough to make you pop a blood vessel.

"Yeah, an albino freak."

You grumble, taking a good few sips from your straw. The good thing about this coffee shop was how quiet it was. Nothing overstimulating or too boring. Just a place for good coffee and other beverages, along with their complementary snacks.

"Woah woah woah! Slow down. Albino freak? Is this person deserving of such a crude label?"

Despite protest, Shoko was grinning ear to ear. It's not every day someone gets under your skin like this. Anyone that could work you up like this was bound to be interesting, and Shoko was a sucker for drama. Maybe you were just on edge... But either way, it made you tick.

"His name is Satoru Gojo. His first impression to me was to make me call him "Toru" and prying for my full name like he's a fed."

The brunette simply laughs. You scrunch your nose. You know that this is feeding Shoko every clue she could need to get under your skin, but you could care less. You needed to vent.

"Has the college jersey hung up on his wall like a trophy. That shit is embarrassing at the least."

You take a big slurp out your straw, the hollow sound of your last sip echoing in your plastic cup.

"And then he tries to learn my schedule! He's a freak, I'm sure of it."

Your friend says nothing, only listening carefully to your complaints and sipping the last of her cup.

"Huh. Didn't know trying to make friends was freak behavior. I guess times change."

You roll your eyes.

"Whatever... You gonna buy a refill?"

She shrugs, standing up from her seat. You follow behind, ordering a cute slice of a refreshing looking fruit cake. She takes a sip of her refill with a toothy grin.

"Your roomie is a celebrity. Son of Japan's prime minister, rich and popular. He had a class with me last year."

She takes another sip, whispering a request to take the rest to go. The gentleman in the front gives a nod and packs her drink up.

"Like I give a shit about a pompous rich boy." You spit through clenched teeth, nose flaring like you smelt something rotten.

Shoko hums, reaching for her coffee and your packaged slice of cake.

"Let's go. Breakfast is over and the lunch rush here sucks."

You groan, dragging your feet behind her.

"You never support me or my pain."

She tuts, shaking her head slowly at you as if you were a misbehaving child.

"And egg on your pessimism? No thanks. I'm cynical enough for the both of us.”

The walk back is calm, you finished your cake on the way and Shoko finished her coffee and four cigarettes before heading into your dorm.

10:15 AM, Your dorm

"Am I allowed to ask about the guy you were almost kissing at the benches? ...Or was that just your average campus harassment?"

You click your tongue.

"His name is Sukuna apparently, we share homeroom. He sat in front of me that class and was staring at me."

Shoko leans on the door frame, clearly intrigued.

"So... a crush you think?"

She teased head resting against the doorframe like it was hers.

"No fucking clue."

You open your laptop, checking your schedule. You won't have another class until 12:30. Good. A break is always nice.

"Welp, I'm off to my next class. Try not to catch herpes kissing Albino boy or Sukuna." She cooed, a smirk painting her lips as he scampered away. You threw your pillow at the door, knowing you would miss.

'Fucker.'