Nadii

Jungkook hadn't tagged along today, able to skip because he had schoolwork and assignments. He complained about some stupid essay he forgot to write notes for, so he was asking a classmate. The conversation was hardly chained to your memory, so you zoned out.

Now, as you said goodbye to your friends, packing your phone away into your bag, you hailed a taxi. You sat on the purple leather seats as Magix faded away behind you.

Taking the taxi and portal train home was the next best thing since avoiding your parents became a habit after these bleak meetings. Their disappointment practically prickled at your spine.

The whole time, you kept thinking about the attacker's tattoo. That was nothing since people loved art ingrained into their skins. It was normal. And so many designs were… identical. Whether that tattoo meant something was still beyond what you could grasp.

Home was quiet.

Your porch had been revived of its broken stairs, now smoothed over and decent. The explosion had no trace left here. It did, however, instil an anxiety every time you walked up the stairs.

Opening the door, you heard more than one voice in the kitchen, shuffling around. You sighed, knowing it was Jungkook and his friend.

Just in case, you sauntered to the kitchen only to freeze when you saw two familiar faces sitting at the little round table.

Jay was there with loose hair, a pencil glued to his hand, and eyes flicking up from a mountain of papers tagged together. He waved a little with a small smile.

Then, to his left was Jungwon. Wavy hair, eyes that gleamed with stars, and a fitted sweater over his broad shoulders. You wanted to shrivel into dust.

The dressing room flashed into memory. The moment his knuckles caressed your spine, dragging the zipper with such intense slowness that it became a warm imprint on your back.

You swallowed, lips parting speechlessly. Jungkook turned from the stove, cooking some nightmare of a dish.

“Oh, you're back,” he said casually.

Yeah. Back. Jungwon touched your back.

No. You were getting off track here.

Pressing back into the doorway, you nodded, purposely ripping your eyes from Jungwon.

“Yeah, it was a boring one. Good you didn't tag along,” you murmured, itching to get upstairs. What was he even doing here? With Jungkook, nonetheless. You were surprised Jungwon wasn't being strangled by your brother.

“Ugh, good. Jay had some notes and…” Jungkook turned to send a dirty glance at a sulky Jungwon. “… That one tagged along apparently.”

You sent a scolding look at Jungkook, but he was already packing away the rubbish for his food boiling in the pot.

“Don't worry. It's been a little tense in our dorm—” Jay tried to say before Jungwon subtly nudged him in the elbow. Offended, Jay snapped his gaze to the younger one's tense brows, and iced away the initial annoyance. He sighed, facing you. “He was bored.”

You nodded, not questioning it. You had no idea what the environment was like between the boys, but you knew that Sunghoon was still burning over the photo. The whole atmosphere would be unimaginable.

“I… I'm going to my room,” you said, already backing out the doorway before you caught any more stars pooling in Jungwon's feline eyes. It did something treacherous to your heart, and you didn’t need that.

Before anyone replied, you were already upstairs.

Linae, your fairy cat friend, was purring on the windowsill that displayed the somewhat withered willow tree. Its leaves were teetering between life and death, swaying limply in the wind. To your weak threads of magic, you sensed the blurry connection.

The curse was still alive. Or whatever this was.

Undressing from your formal wear, you slipped into a jumper and sweatpants before targeting your jewellery. Standing in front of your vanity, you slipped your rings off one by one when dizziness rippled subtly down your spine. Your hands clung to the vanity until your vision stood still, breaths shaking.

The door behind you creaked open at that second.

You whipped around, feeling a spike of stars tingling your spine. Jungwon stood there, holding a bowl settled on a plate, utensils perched inside. You tensed even more despite the scented steam wafting out of the bowl. You were so hungry and so anxious.

“Hey, your brother sent me,” he mumbled, setting it down on the bedside table. His hair fell over his eyes, but they snuck your way, scanning the anxiety in your picking fingers. His heart ached at the thought of him being the root of it.

The dangerous thought of your bare spine suddenly blanked his vision, and Jungwon swallowed hard. This certainly wasn’t the moment.

“Thank you,” you said, closing your jewellery box to put it back on the top shelf. The only problem was you had to tiptoe. Trying to ignore Jungwon’s whole presence, you reached for the top shelf, determined.

All of that shattered when another rippling anxiety struck you between the eyes, making you groan in discomfort and the world spin. The magic inside faded completely, buckling your knees. You didn’t get a chance to cling to the vanity. You fell.

But you didn’t meet the ground.

Arms came around your figure close to a familiar heartbeat. It was slightly erratic and swift into your ear. You breathed the scent of the sweater, hoping it would fade the uneasiness away. When your vision cleared, Jungwon fused in the entirety of it. The stars in his gaze stirred into something shinier.

Warmth prickled your chest, making you cling to his muscled shoulders once more. A secret desire to feel a little more ignited deep below, but you refused to entertain your inner wants further.

Swiftly, you glanced at him.

His beautiful self had a crumbling uncertainty in his creasing brows, an impatience burning in the same stars living in his eyes. His hold tightened as he lifted you carefully to your feet, where you found the edge of the bedside table. His hands remained on your waist.

The dressing room intruded again. The moment he gripped your hip and sent yearning straight down your spine. He was remembering. You could tell. The distance came and went in his eyes as he gazed down at you with increasing resolve.

This time, Jungwon actually looked at you. The arch of your brows, the blinking expectancy shining through your hesitance. Even your nose was perfect. Then, he invaded the territory he was never supposed to—your lips. A shade so magnetising that Jungwon forgot everything in that second. His eyes twinkled again.

You didn’t think.

He didn’t either.

Jungwon inched in, testing the waters. Hands tightening and bringing your waist in, he waited a feather away from your lips. Silence flooded between. Absolutely everything streamed out, and all he could register was the crashing waves of the truth in his ears. It deafened him until all his senses focused on you.

Your breath hitched, hands clinging like you couldn’t survive the distance.

That answer was enough as Jungwon closed the distance and met your lips.

Your breath fractured, all your hesitance breaking upon his lips. He stayed there, and that was when you reciprocated.

Electrified with thrill, you pressed into his mouth, savouring the softness hidden from you this whole time.

Everything unsaid that had been living in your body had broken out of its sleep, and you craved it. All of this. All of him. Sunghoon totally turned to ash in your head.

For a moment, Jungwon almost tilted his head as he moved his lips more against yours. Then, reality trickled in until it broke his focus. He stopped, making your brows crease. Slowly, he began to pull back, sharing your shaking breaths.

You pulled back until you could see him properly. But he wasn’t thrilled like you.

His hands were next to break away, brows creasing in confusion and horror. You flinched when the cold replaced his warm palms, turning your bliss into ashes. You shuddered once.

“… Jungwon?” You whispered, his lips still linen on yours. Your voice poisoned him as he stepped away, avoiding your gaze. The distance grew only an inch, but it felt like he dug a canyon to stay away. You tensed.

Leerae popped into your head. He had a whole girlfriend. She had probably seen your whole scandal with Jungwon, and if she saw this, she would kill you.

Sunghoon would kill him too.

Jungwon breathed shakily and left instantly without a word. The door closed.

You leaned back against the bedside table, rattling the ramen bowl in the process. Tears stung your eyes as the rejection sank into your bones. All the while, your chest constricted, hopelessness staggering your breaths.

Why did you think differently? Everything you did was a mistake. Meeting him was a mistake. Liking him was a mistake. That kiss was a mistake.

You shouldn’t have ever thought differently.

You were nothing. You were no one.

─────────────────────────────────

━━━━━━━━━━━━━˚₊‧꒰ა ♡ ໒꒱‧₊˚━━━━━━━━━━━━━

🪽་༘࿐ << M.LIST >> ་༘࿐

۶ৎ───[NOTES] : Finally, I am back! I was on holiday and had no wifi. It acutally refreshed me a little bit because some of my writer's block has gone. And I feel relieved. It is BEAUTIFUL in Canada. Also, this was messy asf. I'm sorry. LMFAO. BUT YAY! Jungwon finally ended it with her... with complicated feelings! I hope you enjoyed!

🎀 REBLOGS, LIKES +COMMENTS are appreciated <3

╰┈➤ 𝚃𝚊𝚐𝚕𝚒𝚜𝚝: 𝚘𝚙𝚎𝚗 (comment or give an ask)

⋆.˚🦢⋆

˖ . ݁𝜗𝜚. ݁₊[TAGLIST]: @dreamiestay @m3l4nchol @n1k1mura @wensurr @jiiyen @jwonistic @lolallure @sol3chu @firstclassjaylee @luumiinaa @xwonz @vixialuvs @simjaeyunlvrclub @bubblytaetae @wondoras @sievenderz @starniras @fackeraccount @kristynaaah @menaretrashsworld @bloomwinx65 @cnnabonnn @shuaaaashuu @w3willris3 @graythecoffeebean @hollxe1 @yangbreads @cokewithcameron @02shuuu @neutralizeeverymaninsight @tewlypudding @sisakoekiee @bellesros3s @r1nnae @sisakoekiee @mysticalmf @lunaryoongie @woninlove

⋆.˚🦢 [Permanent taglist] : @kristynaaah @hollyn1729

© 𝘁𝗵𝗲𝗼𝘁𝗵𝗲𝗿𝗻𝗮𝗱𝘀

Jungkook hadn't tagged along today, able to skip because he had schoolwork and assignments. He complained about some stupid essay he forgot to write notes for, so he was asking a classmate. The conversation was hardly chained to your memory, so you zoned out.

Now, as you said goodbye to your friends, packing your phone away into your bag, you hailed a taxi. You sat on the purple leather seats as Magix faded away behind you.

Taking the taxi and portal train home was the next best thing since avoiding your parents became a habit after these bleak meetings. Their disappointment practically prickled at your spine.

The whole time, you kept thinking about the attacker's tattoo. That was nothing since people loved art ingrained into their skins. It was normal. And so many designs were… identical. Whether that tattoo meant something was still beyond what you could grasp.

Home was quiet.

Your porch had been revived of its broken stairs, now smoothed over and decent. The explosion had no trace left here. It did, however, instil an anxiety every time you walked up the stairs.

Opening the door, you heard more than one voice in the kitchen, shuffling around. You sighed, knowing it was Jungkook and his friend.

Just in case, you sauntered to the kitchen only to freeze when you saw two familiar faces sitting at the little round table.

Jay was there with loose hair, a pencil glued to his hand, and eyes flicking up from a mountain of papers tagged together. He waved a little with a small smile.

Then, to his left was Jungwon. Wavy hair, eyes that gleamed with stars, and a fitted sweater over his broad shoulders. You wanted to shrivel into dust.

The dressing room flashed into memory. The moment his knuckles caressed your spine, dragging the zipper with such intense slowness that it became a warm imprint on your back.

You swallowed, lips parting speechlessly. Jungkook turned from the stove, cooking some nightmare of a dish.

“Oh, you're back,” he said casually.

Yeah. Back. Jungwon touched your back.

No. You were getting off track here.

Pressing back into the doorway, you nodded, purposely ripping your eyes from Jungwon.

“Yeah, it was a boring one. Good you didn't tag along,” you murmured, itching to get upstairs. What was he even doing here? With Jungkook, nonetheless. You were surprised Jungwon wasn't being strangled by your brother.

“Ugh, good. Jay had some notes and…” Jungkook turned to send a dirty glance at a sulky Jungwon. “… That one tagged along apparently.”

You sent a scolding look at Jungkook, but he was already packing away the rubbish for his food boiling in the pot.

“Don't worry. It's been a little tense in our dorm—” Jay tried to say before Jungwon subtly nudged him in the elbow. Offended, Jay snapped his gaze to the younger one's tense brows, and iced away the initial annoyance. He sighed, facing you. “He was bored.”

You nodded, not questioning it. You had no idea what the environment was like between the boys, but you knew that Sunghoon was still burning over the photo. The whole atmosphere would be unimaginable.

“I… I'm going to my room,” you said, already backing out the doorway before you caught any more stars pooling in Jungwon's feline eyes. It did something treacherous to your heart, and you didn’t need that.

Before anyone replied, you were already upstairs.

Linae, your fairy cat friend, was purring on the windowsill that displayed the somewhat withered willow tree. Its leaves were teetering between life and death, swaying limply in the wind. To your weak threads of magic, you sensed the blurry connection.

The curse was still alive. Or whatever this was.

Undressing from your formal wear, you slipped into a jumper and sweatpants before targeting your jewellery. Standing in front of your vanity, you slipped your rings off one by one when dizziness rippled subtly down your spine. Your hands clung to the vanity until your vision stood still, breaths shaking.

The door behind you creaked open at that second.

You whipped around, feeling a spike of stars tingling your spine. Jungwon stood there, holding a bowl settled on a plate, utensils perched inside. You tensed even more despite the scented steam wafting out of the bowl. You were so hungry and so anxious.

“Hey, your brother sent me,” he mumbled, setting it down on the bedside table. His hair fell over his eyes, but they snuck your way, scanning the anxiety in your picking fingers. His heart ached at the thought of him being the root of it.

The dangerous thought of your bare spine suddenly blanked his vision, and Jungwon swallowed hard. This certainly wasn’t the moment.

“Thank you,” you said, closing your jewellery box to put it back on the top shelf. The only problem was you had to tiptoe. Trying to ignore Jungwon’s whole presence, you reached for the top shelf, determined.

All of that shattered when another rippling anxiety struck you between the eyes, making you groan in discomfort and the world spin. The magic inside faded completely, buckling your knees. You didn’t get a chance to cling to the vanity. You fell.

But you didn’t meet the ground.

Arms came around your figure close to a familiar heartbeat. It was slightly erratic and swift into your ear. You breathed the scent of the sweater, hoping it would fade the uneasiness away. When your vision cleared, Jungwon fused in the entirety of it. The stars in his gaze stirred into something shinier.

Warmth prickled your chest, making you cling to his muscled shoulders once more. A secret desire to feel a little more ignited deep below, but you refused to entertain your inner wants further.

Swiftly, you glanced at him.

His beautiful self had a crumbling uncertainty in his creasing brows, an impatience burning in the same stars living in his eyes. His hold tightened as he lifted you carefully to your feet, where you found the edge of the bedside table. His hands remained on your waist.

The dressing room intruded again. The moment he gripped your hip and sent yearning straight down your spine. He was remembering. You could tell. The distance came and went in his eyes as he gazed down at you with increasing resolve.

This time, Jungwon actually looked at you. The arch of your brows, the blinking expectancy shining through your hesitance. Even your nose was perfect. Then, he invaded the territory he was never supposed to—your lips. A shade so magnetising that Jungwon forgot everything in that second. His eyes twinkled again.

You didn’t think.

He didn’t either.

Jungwon inched in, testing the waters. Hands tightening and bringing your waist in, he waited a feather away from your lips. Silence flooded between. Absolutely everything streamed out, and all he could register was the crashing waves of the truth in his ears. It deafened him until all his senses focused on you.

Your breath hitched, hands clinging like you couldn’t survive the distance.

That answer was enough as Jungwon closed the distance and met your lips.

Your breath fractured, all your hesitance breaking upon his lips. He stayed there, and that was when you reciprocated.

Electrified with thrill, you pressed into his mouth, savouring the softness hidden from you this whole time.

Everything unsaid that had been living in your body had broken out of its sleep, and you craved it. All of this. All of him. Sunghoon totally turned to ash in your head.

For a moment, Jungwon almost tilted his head as he moved his lips more against yours. Then, reality trickled in until it broke his focus. He stopped, making your brows crease. Slowly, he began to pull back, sharing your shaking breaths.

You pulled back until you could see him properly. But he wasn’t thrilled like you.

His hands were next to break away, brows creasing in confusion and horror. You flinched when the cold replaced his warm palms, turning your bliss into ashes. You shuddered once.

“… Jungwon?” You whispered, his lips still linen on yours. Your voice poisoned him as he stepped away, avoiding your gaze. The distance grew only an inch, but it felt like he dug a canyon to stay away. You tensed.

Leerae popped into your head. He had a whole girlfriend. She had probably seen your whole scandal with Jungwon, and if she saw this, she would kill you.

Sunghoon would kill him too.

Jungwon breathed shakily and left instantly without a word. The door closed.

You leaned back against the bedside table, rattling the ramen bowl in the process. Tears stung your eyes as the rejection sank into your bones. All the while, your chest constricted, hopelessness staggering your breaths.

Why did you think differently? Everything you did was a mistake. Meeting him was a mistake. Liking him was a mistake. That kiss was a mistake.

You shouldn’t have ever thought differently.

You were nothing. You were no one.

─────────────────────────────────

━━━━━━━━━━━━━˚₊‧꒰ა ♡ ໒꒱‧₊˚━━━━━━━━━━━━━

🪽་༘࿐ << M.LIST >> ་༘࿐

۶ৎ───[NOTES] : Finally, I am back! I was on holiday and had no wifi. It acutally refreshed me a little bit because some of my writer's block has gone. And I feel relieved. It is BEAUTIFUL in Canada. Also, this was messy asf. I'm sorry. LMFAO. BUT YAY! Jungwon finally ended it with her... with complicated feelings! I hope you enjoyed!

🎀 REBLOGS, LIKES +COMMENTS are appreciated <3

╰┈➤ 𝚃𝚊𝚐𝚕𝚒𝚜𝚝: 𝚘𝚙𝚎𝚗 (comment or give an ask)

⋆.˚🦢⋆

˖ . ݁𝜗𝜚. ݁₊[TAGLIST]: @dreamiestay @m3l4nchol @n1k1mura @wensurr @jiiyen @jwonistic @lolallure @sol3chu @firstclassjaylee @luumiinaa @xwonz @vixialuvs @simjaeyunlvrclub @bubblytaetae @wondoras @sievenderz @starniras @fackeraccount @kristynaaah @menaretrashsworld @bloomwinx65 @cnnabonnn @shuaaaashuu @w3willris3 @graythecoffeebean @hollxe1 @yangbreads @cokewithcameron @02shuuu @neutralizeeverymaninsight @tewlypudding @sisakoekiee @bellesros3s @r1nnae @sisakoekiee @mysticalmf @lunaryoongie @woninlove

⋆.˚🦢 [Permanent taglist] : @kristynaaah @hollyn1729

© 𝘁𝗵𝗲𝗼𝘁𝗵𝗲𝗿𝗻𝗮𝗱𝘀

The last thing he wanted to do was debate whether he could do his job of taking a soul. His whole life revolved around knowing when a body was ready for death, not for battling it. Jungwon could read a fading heartbeat when close, so getting a court case was an insult to his work.

In the case, a middle-aged man had a terrible accident and sustained injuries all over, enough for him to fall into the fragile hands of a coma. Six months was the monitoring period for a body to be observed, but after that? Grim Reapers would get involved.

Jungwon had his head straight and was happy to take the soul and gain a rank. But then, a dispute had landed in his office, infuriatingly so.

An abominable dispute challenged his objective. It meant having to go to court and contest whether to pull life support or keep the man steady in sleep.

It dampened his whole week.

Even now, as he left behind the crowd cursing him out at the front, Jungwon strolled by the court walls like it was his crafted path, knowing exactly where to go. The public meant nothing to him because, to them, he was a heartless monster that fed off people’s souls.

Of course, Jungwon didn’t feed off souls. He had no care for who he took and what happened once he closed the doors, so he really felt all those insults bounce off his back.

He trained for that. Every acidic remark thrown, he learned to wash it off before it could ever burn. He had to. When being the heir to taking over the GRA, it was key to tune out everyone’s useless opinions and go with his gut. And his gut was where his duty was shaped.

His father, Yang Jihoon, taught him that. He ingrained it in Jungwon’s head. And he was supposed to be here.

The hallway was filled with several court officials talking among clients, but none were his father. Despite the push to learn punctuality, his father never practised it.

Whatever. Jungwon sauntered to his assigned courtroom and pushed the doors open to the grand, brown interior.

There was a raised platform at the front for the judge, two long tables parallel to each other from opposite sides of the room, and the lower gallery consisted of seats arranged in rows until it hit the main door. The upper panel had glass windows to accommodate more secretive observers.

It wasn’t empty. Among the lower gallery, a woman who matched the victim’s age sat with her shoulders hunched, eyes cloudy with grief. She looked as if she was curling into a seated, dejected ball. Beside her was an elderly couple, whom he only assumed to be the parents. In a mirroring figure, they leaned on each other, frowns anchored with apprehension.

Jungwon paid them no mind as he sat down, finally setting his eyes on who dared to dispute his claim. Except he paused the stream of thoughts when he saw you.

You sat with perfectly aligned shoulders controlled beneath the smoothest white shirt he had ever seen. Those were tucked into the baby blue skirt reaching the top of your knees. The pleats looked strictly ironed and straight. And he almost scoffed at the white stockings with matching pale blue bows delicately atop your knees like you were pulling attention in the little ways. Your shoes weren’t dramatic. They were reserved flats that probably swallowed sounds before they made one.

You didn’t stop writing. Your pen flew across the paper, writing some nonsense, he imagined, and didn’t take a break. Not even to look at him.

Jungwon slowly frowned a fraction, his own index finger tapping the table methodically as he processed the strict line of your lips and how your eyes simply followed the flow of the ink. It felt unnerving. So, he tapped into your heartbeat.

Easygoing pace with a slight hitch, as if it knew it was being spied on. Jungwon couldn’t spot the nervousness on your face if that was what your heart was translating. It confused him, so he glanced to where your right hand was adorned with a spiral of gems coloured baby blue and pink before it shaped a heart, and extended into rings that hugged each finger.

Jungwon tilted his head. On his own fidgeting hand, there was a metal cuff, running with black runes beneath that spoke of the deaths it aided. His own cuff grew out, extended into rings for each finger. It was where his scythe stayed when he didn’t want it present. It gravely helped with walking around in public without conjuring fear.

The only difference between him and you was that you were a Soul Bearer.

The exact opposite to who he was.

Instead of taking life, they delivered them; instead of scanning heartbeats, they sensed emotion through the ripple and weight of energy; they also boosted souls and encouraged them back into bodies, bringing colour to cheeks again.

Jungwon loathed them because they brought him here. To this arid courtroom where it reeked of tears and bad news.

It didn’t disturb you in the slightest. Uninterrupted, you kept scribing whatever nonsense, possibly breaking down whatever hurdle he was about to chuck your way. As if you knew.

How stupid.

Jungwon halted the finger tapping and opened his laptop, beginning to open his notes and read them with burning eyes. This particular time, he felt like he was going to have to recite everything verbatim to break through that stoic shield of yours.

Eventually, court officials lined the benches, had their notepads out, and the writers were organised. The judge had her glasses on, making everyone rise before it all commenced.

A flicker brewed in Jungwon’s nerves, making his fingers dance again. Cooling it down, he stood and walked around to present his argument. Only then did you meet his gaze.

Oh, you had this stupidly sweet gaze, scanning him so thoroughly as if he was a dream all in your head. But his feline eyes were heavy with his own judgement as it carved into your skin, taking in your features for memory. Finally, you surrendered back to rewriting the ink on your paper.

Jungwon refrained from a smug smirk and faced the judge instead of the grieving family. He learned the hard way that facing the gallery earned a strong tide of glares as a Grim Reaper.

“I will repeat the rule for everyone that the hospital has set forth,” Jungwon said, not bothering to face you, who probably knew this fact already. “The hospital has a six-month period where the patient is monitored while comatose. After that, Grim Reapers are allowed to take the soul once it reaches six months.”

Someone sniffled in the room, and pens scribbled on paper.

“Under the Grim Reaper’s Association, I argue that keeping him in the hospital will not benefit him any further.” He cast a final look at the judge. The heartbeats around him practically hammered with disagreement and hidden insults, but Jungwon sat back down and let his words sink in.

Logical and curt. His very way of working.

The counterargument started with you. The flats made no sound, gaze drifting to the crowd rather than to him. A tactic he found didn’t work in his favour. For you, however, the elderly couple and wife had a sparkle in their teary eyes. In your hand was a pen, thumb repeatedly rubbing the lid to occupy your nervous tick.

Your heartbeat, he found, was still being restrained with great effort.

“Mr Kim suffered several injuries in the car accident,” you began, the cadence of your voice reserved, a practised path with no gaps between. “However, over the months, he has displayed great improvement. His wounds are healing, and his vitals are stable.”

Repeating the case—also another strategy you put forth to remind everyone why you weren’t the ‘bad’ one here.

“His soul, as Reapers and Bearers can see, is still connected to him. Keeping him alive is a perfect opportunity to encourage his soul to return to the body. We have a specialised ward for it, which my family primarily work in,” you explained, growing more firm. Then, you finally hooked your attention on him, your thumb now harshly digging into the ridge of the pen lid.

His gaze was obsidian and endless, and staring would only lose your train of thought. Apart from his subtle frown, you squared your shoulders a little and faced the contempt sewn into his brows.

“I agree that six months is the observational period; however, with Mr Kim’s improvement, he can gain a sense of his soul again. It is the last step,” you said, trying very hard to stay on his gaze. It was like a black flame that you had never seen before, but you were too afraid to explore.

Jungwon didn’t move to make a note. He was too busy dealing with your hidden audacity to spell this case out for him with baby steps. He understood all of this, of course, but keeping a corpse in a ward was hardly productive. The thought was cruel and strict, but he knew nothing other than that.

“For patients that do not improve, it is another situation entirely. For Mr Kim, it is a chance. And, I think his family would be pleased that this last step is the one to take, and the one that could break his coma.” You finally swerved gazes to the judge, smiling a little before sitting down.

Jungwon felt like your argument wasn’t even much. It was a few sentences bedazzled with empathy before being given to the gallery and court officials to write.

His heart began to drum with animosity. It was a speed he couldn’t chain back, and it ran against his ribs. Not because you were better, but because he felt as if everyone else was going to side with you. There was no jury, but he had a gut feeling that wrapped ivy around his spine.

No. He shoved that whole feeling beneath soil and mentally stomped on it. You were just a glorified empath.

As the minutes ticked on, you and Jungwon were heaving arguments back and forth. You, however, had thorns gradually growing in your tone. Each piece he gave, you returned it with another sharp counterattack, and you were growing sulky, even. He had focused too much on the sunken brows that aided your frustration with him, and the way you met his gaze head-on with a crash when talking back to him.

That initial restrained heartbeat was slower now, but burned strong with annoyance.

“If he wanted to come back to his body, his soul would’ve returned and awakened him.”

“A wound does not heal so easily either.”

“There are no specific steps to bring a soul back except by healing. And there is no guarantee there either.” Jungwon’s gaze narrowed.

“Lord Yang, what benefit does taking a soul away do other than giving you an increase of rank?” You glared at him, all soft fury with a tone that skidded against his ears. Your heartbeat fluttered, sinking once more with the light downturn of your lip.

Jungwon had his comment ready. Leaning forward with those feline eyes full of hollow understanding, he spoke.

“Lady Sim, I would love to give a lecture on my job and how it helps our nation, but the hour is coming to an end. All I have to say is that I abide by the rules given.” He sat back with his relaxed, intertwined fingers on his lap, smug. “That is the strongest argument one can give.”

That last comment forced you to avert your burning eyes to the ink on the page, recalling the calm strokes you had written before getting all worked up.

Recess arrived shortly after that. It was a thirty-minute period that allowed Jungwon to sit in a room with bare, cream walls, a few couches, and a huge window broadcasting bobbing flowers and a trickling fountain in silence.

All too idyllic for such a place adopting stress, he thought.

The door opened behind the armchair he rested on.

“Son!” His father’s voice flinched him from the calm petals.

“Father.” Jungwon nodded. Jihoon was slightly taller and wore the routine blue blazer and pants with a jolly stroke of colour on his face. His features were a frame for innate joy and twin dimples.

“Soul Bearer case?” Jihoon asked, sitting down opposite Jungwon.

To that, he nodded, the initial exasperation filling his head with aggravating smoke. “A waste of time, really?”

“She’s just doing her job, Son.”

“Taking up hospital beds with corpses is not productive in any sense,” Jungwon corrected, flexing his cuffed hand as if he could imagine his scythe’s hunger for a soul. Calming that pang into a gentle ache, Jungwon sighed, staring once more at the silent nature outside.

“Don’t be envious, Won. It is not a good sight on you.”

“I always look like this.” Jungwon raised a bitter brow.

“Exactly.” Jihoon raised his brows in return, making Jungwon realise that his parental figure was not so serious about this. Jungwon wished he could be as loose, but that was all before when expectations weren’t premature, and when duty had a schedule.

“I was watching,” Jihoon added impishly.

“You did?” Jungwon inquired. That didn’t help alleviate the pressure to win.

“Of course. I wouldn’t miss it,” he replied, face turning a little brave as he spared a glance at Jungwon. “And, I must say, she is quite a match—”

“Father,” Jungwon said with a deep, contemptuous sigh. “Not this again.”

Jihoon pursed his lips, trying very hard to choose his words without it blowing a fuse in the process. “I never said anything about the prophecy.”

“You were thinking it,” Jungwon exclaimed, gesturing wildly with a single hand. “You made that face.”

“I did not.”

“You did. You did that stupid thing with your lips,” Jungwon pointed out, eyes shiny with pins of refusal. Jihoon broke into a sigh.

“Can you blame me? You are the heir to the highest-ranking Death Lineage, and Lady Sim Y/n happens to be the highest-ranking Soul Bearer,” Jihoon explained, voice lowering from that joy to something stern. “I did my research in the session.”

Jungwon wasn’t having it as his cuffed hand flexed into a fist, determined to cling to his refusal. “You are depending on a centuries-long prophecy that has barely come to fruition. What makes you think it is me and… her?”

“You two are alike,” Jihoon countered.

“We absolutely are not!” Jungwon argued, suddenly on his feet. It was probably getting late. Desperate to escape his dad, he glanced at the clock and walked with relief when he noticed that recess was coming to an end. He yanked the door open.

“I need to go, Father. The Judge would have declared a verdict now.”

“I will come with you,” his father said, already on his feet and out the door before Jungwon could blink.

As Jungwon watched his jolly father walk further away, he prayed that he would win.

── ⋮ ꒰ঌ ໒꒱ˎˊ˗ ✿

JUNGWON LOST.

The Judge kept going with his announcement. Jungwon was sure he hadn’t heard it right, but then he glanced at the family cooped in the one row flooded with relief. They had burst to their feet, rushed to the barrier, and began to thank you profusely.

A heavy denial wedged in between his ribs and stayed like a sore thumb. However, he had the habit of watching.

You smiled gently at the family, shaking their hands. Underneath, your heartbeat was a swift flutter of disbelief and happiness all at once. It began to soar while Jungwon’s heart found the common, raging rhythm, bumping with that wedge of incredulity that the verdict stabbed him with.

You dipped your head to the family, barely glanced at Jungwon, and then smiled at the Judge. As quick as that, you slipped through the staff door, disappearing like smoke after setting his whole mind on fire.

What just happened?

Jungwon hadn’t failed ever since his first trial. And that was when he was of age—eighteen. Back then, he had been under the brunt of every learned rule, every cold emotion at his first trial. Ultimately, the lack of balance had tipped him off the scale, making his delivery messy.

He had learned from that. The mistakes were studied, then erased from history because he didn’t lose one after that. Some trials consisted of investigations rather than tangling with the public’s hearts. Regardless, he had a vow.

He never lost.

Now, it was unravelling because of you. A crack in the canvas.

Jungwon stormed into the hallway, pins pricking his spine that made him want to swallow a cigarette so he could numb his blood. His father appeared by his side, matching his furious pace.

They reached the glass exit to the sprightly city where, beyond the tree line, the city bustled under a clear, blue sky. People wandered in or out of the courthouse, navigating their own proficient jobs and lives.

Jihoon stopped Jungwon from abusing any more of the floor by hooking a gentle hand on his shoulder. “You are taking this too harshly.”

Jungwon loathed that tone. It was bubble wrap for delicate situations, but Jungwon was not that. He preferred it if his father told him off for losing. He needed that lash of discipline.

“It’s not a success, is it?” Jungwon asked, sardonic as he met his father’s searching gaze.

“It was not totally useless,” Jihoon said, resigned. Jungwon glared at his father’s gabble.

“You are hopeless. This prophecy—”

“Are you saying it is fake?” Jihoon raised a brow.

Jungwon stayed silent, his jaw clenching gradually, teetering between telling his father off or being respectful. Then, he thinned his lips, glancing outwards again.

“I didn’t say that.”

The prophecy his father was infatuated with was made by a man centuries ago, claiming that two opposites would unite. Specifically, it was Life and Death. And when they did have a union, it would unlock a secret ability.

What that ability was—nobody knew.

So, it was a dangerous gamble.

“I just think that being too optimistic about something so old will do no good. Save those prayers for useful things. It could have been for my trial, but that did not come true,” Jungwon said, tilting his head with knives glinting in his eyes.

Then, before his father could stop him, Jungwon descended the stairs to where his car pulled up. Black and sleek with tinted windows when the sun was too much.

“You never know!” Jihoon said, chasing after him.

Jungwon entered the car and closed it in his father’s face.

── ⋮ ꒰ঌ ໒꒱ˎˊ˗ ✿

“A little birdie told me you won against Death himself.”

Your brother, Jaeyun, was following around with sparkles for eyes, fluffy hair, and a bright smile. However, you had no time for him right now.

Currently, you were working a shift in the Healer’s ward of the hospital, holding your tablet at the reception counter. It was fairly quiet for now, but you knew someone was bound for an emergency, and you needed your mind set before it happened. It was a trait grown through months of doing this profession.

Jaeyun wasn’t helping when he was constantly reminding you of that court trial. It was such a dream. Sure, you had delivered a stitched explanation, but beneath the mask, you were made of loose seams and tattered explanations. Usually, doing court trials didn’t bring erratic nerves, but Yang Jungwon was a star in the universe of court trials. So, finding out you were against him had forced all your thoughts to be shot clean.

“Don’t ignore me, Y/nie,” he said, leaning on the counter next to your tablet.

“Who was your birdie?” You asked, sparing a swift glance, but scrolling harder on the screen, barely reading the words.

“My husband,” Jaeyun answered with a pearly smile.

That halted your scrolling, shooting a bewildered gaze at your brother. “Please stop calling Heeseung that.”

Jake grinned, adjusting his glasses. “Nope! Heeseung is my friend, brother, and husband—”

Your brows sank with a thousand confused questions. “Brother and husband?”

“Trust me. Heeseung wouldn’t even mind,” Jake affirmed before his gaze was over your shoulder, eyes lighting up with recognition.

Heeseung had burgundy hair flopping around his sweet, doe-brown eyes where starry thoughts were born. He wore the same, neutral uniform, white and baby blue, and his wand, which had been in his hand, began to crumble into a magic mist and slither back into a cuff atop his wrist. He leaned on the same counter your crisis was short-circuiting.

“I heard my name,” Heeseung said, leaning beside you. You frowned.

“You told Jake about my trial? You were there?” You asked sulkily.

“I was actually in the upper panel. I told them I was a past client that felt too grateful to skip a trial,” Heeseung said proudly, brows raising. Jake was easily impressed, but you scoffed, nudging Heeseung with a soft palm.

“You could have told them you were my friend?”

“I like the back story—the flair it gives me,” he replied, chuckling. Both men laughed at either side of you. It was disgustingly romantic.

“Fine. I battled Lord Yang,” you began quietly, remembering the dips of anxiety you had fallen into through the court session.

“You make it sound like he tried to take you out with his scythe,” Jake mused, impish.

“It felt like it,” you shot back, nudging Jake away as he grinned like a daisy.

“You actually did really well. I couldn’t tell you wanted to die,” Heeseung commented casually. He recalled the sediments of control fueled into your straight posture, the tone of metal certainty, and your perfect reasoning. It was a win, he thought.

While you could tick the good points of the whole thing, Jungwon’s midnight glare distanced you the whole time. In fact, you were glad your skin was still intact after the whole thing. Mainly because you had lost the anxious edge in the last quarter of that argument. The rage shielded it.

Getting that exact verdict had switched the apprehension back on. You had never packed so quickly in your life.

“I never want to do that again. Nor meet him,” you admitted, rubbing the side of your head to erode the memory.

Heeseung made a sound of disagreement, crossing his arms like he just pulled a memory back into vision. You and Jake both glanced hastily.

“What?” You said, a twinge of horror twisting in your voice.

“Senior Lord Yang, his dad, by the way, was sitting across me in the upper panel. And he kept looking at you, Y/n,” Heeseung explained, eyebrows wiggling suggestively with a goofy grin.

This was going somewhere awful already. “So?”

“Don’t you know who Dada Yang is?” Heeseung asked, brows furrowed in a sudden second.

“Don’t call him that, Seung.” You grimaced.

Jake completely ignored you. “Dada Yang is the top Lord of Death. Lord Jungwon is his only heir as of now. And he is of age.” He glanced at your increasingly gloomy face. “Lord Yang Jungwon is twenty-two.”

“And you are twenty-one,” Heeseung said like clockwork. This just went downhill easily.

Their talk made your smile stiff, the appreciation for their stupid facts dying on the spot. “Guys—”

“You could be the one—” Jake tried to say.

You slammed a tempered hand on the counter, flinching both Jake and Heeseung out of their seesaw of a conversation. Both turned with bewildered gazes, clearly lacking your perspective. You straightened with locked shoulders and exasperated brows.

“No. I am not the ‘one’, okay?” You began quietly. “Quoting something so old and ridiculous is out of the question. You sound like our parents,” you chastised Jake, picking up your tablet.

It completely flew over Jake’s head. “Y/n, you can’t deny that this could be real. We deliver souls to pregnant women with wands. I don’t think anything is too ‘ridiculous’.”

“How many times have Soul Bearers and Grim Reapers tried to come together, only for the lineages never to come to fruition?” You asked them, tablet held with paling knuckles. When you received silence, you resolutely continued. “Right. There has not been any circumstance like that. Because of that, there was never a successful union.”

Heeseung and Jake stayed silent, slowly deflating from their sky-high ideas. Mischief, however, danced in Jake’s eyes as he leaned on the counter. You sulked.

“You never know!”

“Jake!”

He put his hands up in surrender. “I’m saying the truth!”

── ⋮ ꒰ঌ ໒꒱ˎˊ˗ ✿

THE PARKS WERE A CONSTANT PRESENCE IN JUNGWON’S MANOR.

Specifically, Park Jongseong, who was witty and goal-oriented; those qualities clashed with his premature trigger that would act before he fully thought.

With him were his parents. Lady Somin and Lord Sehyun were a constant force existing throughout his life. For as long as Jungwon could remember, the Parks were a second set of parents from another tree. They were so closely entwined with the Yangs that they lived only yonder from the Yang Manor, separated simply by a cobblestone path.

Today, everyone gathered for tea in the Yang garden. It was behind the glorious manor that stood like a palace, underneath a cream marquee where manicured foliage was shaped up pillars, and where petals learned to keep off the path.

There was no use in these mundane tea moments. So, he was looking through some documentation on his tablet, still boiling from the court case from a week ago. He hadn’t seen you again, and hoped it would stay like that.

The tablet was suddenly snatched out of his arms. Jungwon jumped momentarily before snapping his eyes up, only to soften when he saw his beamy mother.

“Won Bon, you know there is no work talk at tea time,” she chastised gently, her voice the weight of petals. She faced the tablet down on the table.

Lady Jiwon, his kind and sensitive mother, was someone he couldn’t defy.

“Sorry, Mother,” he murmured. Jiwon smiled a sweet thing before sitting next to him. He could never get anything past her these days. Not even work.

Tea time was a sacred time where family bonded. It was her routine to gather everyone around this white-clothed table and talk about the most recent treasures of their lives. But the treasures were boring life events.

The glass doors to the garden opened, revealing Jihoon talking to the Parks with troubled voices.

Lord Sehyun wore something casual and meaningful, with his clean shirt and pants; Lady Somin wore her smooth gown with pin-straight black hair; Jongseong’s hair was loose, wearing all black, like Jungwon.

“Somin, was my husband keeping you late again?” Jiwon doted sweetly with a pearly smile.

Somin scoffed, subtly jabbing a thumb in her husband’s direction. “It is not all yours. My husband and Son are the same. They talk about work everywhere.”

“Just like Won Bon!” Jiwon exclaimed, nodding at Jungwon. The nickname was embarrassing despite being a source of warmth. He never told her off for it anymore. The last time he told her not to, she did it again in the next breath.

He acknowledged the Parks with a casual, murmured greeting. Then, everyone sat down in their designated spaces, letting maids pour beverages into ceramics before being left alone. His father’s frantic heartbeat was chasing something unknown, too panicked to be about something unserious. The tension tangled his father’s brows, and Jungwon couldn’t quite figure it out.

“What happened?” Jungwon asked first.

Jongseong quirked a half-impressed smile. “As diligent as ever.” He leaned in, some of that amusement draining away. “There have been bodies found near the border. And, I’m seeing a pattern.”

There had been a few souls he himself picked up before the GRA collected the body, but all that was on his confiscated tablet. From memory, the people that died had done so in freak accidents: a crushed skull here, an impaled body somewhere else, and all away from the heart of the city to where rurality made most of the location.

“I remember recording such,” Jungwon said, lifting his gaze thoughtfully. “I thought they had normal causes, non-suspicious, that is.”

“I know.” Jongseong hummed. “But all of them are near the borders. Suicide, accidents—but they all died near the same place.”

Good observation. The only detail was: where was Jongseong leading with this?

“What are you suggesting? Murder?” Jungwon asked, incredulous almost.

“It’s what the evidence dictates,” Jongseong affirmed, tension slithering into his brows. Another detail stabbed Jungwon out of the ludicrous conclusion.

Most of the people who died had nothing special to their name. They were people who barely belonged to a magical Lineage—were normal workers. They weren’t from the top of the economy or society.

“Those who died had completely normal lives. Who would want to murder them?” Jungwon let the question break the ‘no-work’ talk and displease his mother. She had gone quiet, but distaste radiated out of her tightly crossed arms.

“If it is murder, we need to investigate,” Jihoon said, tone dipping with worry.

Jongseong’s eyes gleamed with an idea. “I could ask the foreign bordering land,” he suggested. Jungwon hadn’t even processed it before Somin was nodding enthusiastically.

“That is smart. I have researcher friends on the other side. Fire Lineages,” she said, laying down the plan. “I have been meeting them a lot. They would happily house you, Jongie.”

Jungwon had one tiny protest. That proposition was based on no leads, motive, or even victims, as dark as it sounded. It was crossing a road blind for an inevitable car crash before the investigation even began.

“Before that,” Jungwon interrupted the Parks’ shared epiphany, “we need to check the areas and find clues. If it is a cause for concern, we can get the court involved—”

“Speaking of court,” Jongseong said, whipping his eyes towards Jungwon with mischief. He leaned forward, grinning in a way that made Jungwon rub his one temple. “You lost it against Soul Bearer Lady Sim!”

There it was. Jungwon exhaled something close to snapping as the Parks practically leaned over their spaces, gasping with too much curiosity for their own good. The avalanche of questions hit him instantly.

“I have heard of Lady Sim,” said Sehyun.

“She was impressive against our Jungwon,” his father rejoiced with celebration.

“Won Bon did well,” his mother chimed with glittering praise.

“Someone as powerful as her matches—” Jay had tried to say before Jungwon abruptly stood, eyes of oblivion icing each of their excited interjections into a stunned silence. Then, he slowly exhaled again.

“We are not going to talk about the prophecy.” Jungwon stabbed a stare into each person. “We are going to have tea and forget this conversation ever came up.”

He was embarrassed to say the least. His ego had taken a step down a huge ladder, and that was enough to crumble his sense of duty.

Jiwon slithered over the icy defence and tugged him back to his seat. Obedient, he did, but her lips were in a slight pout.

“Won Bon, we can not reject that prophecy. It is important. A tradition almost,” she explained, voice somehow flattening the jagged refusal frozen in his chest.

“I know,” he said with a sigh. “But centuries have passed, and nothing has flourished from it. Quite frankly, I am beginning to deny it.”

The table became smoky with a suffocating silence that drifted from his brittle confession. In that moment, Jiwon sent a desperate plea to her husband via their gazes. Jihoon exhaled, leaning forward with steepled fingers on the table.

“Look, Jungwon, it may not come true. I know. But if tension rises and we need a new ability, then it is going to have to be an option,” he declared in the voice that directed junior reapers to be merciless. Jungwon felt the small part of him shrink under his gaze.

He was of age. He always shaped himself for whatever form duty came as. But, marriage? To the person who sliced his ego within hours? It was a disturbing revelation he couldn’t settle with.

Marriage itself scared him. Having to care and tend to someone other than himself. The furthest he doted on someone was his mother and father. If anything happened to them, it would be a failure of his whole existence.

The prophecy sat on his mind, perched like a crow ready to pick at him at a ready moment.

── ⋮ ꒰ঌ ໒꒱ˎˊ˗ ✿

IT HAD BEEN NINE DAYS SINCE YOU WON AGAINST JUNGWON IN THAT TRIAL.

Ever since then, you were working shift after shift. That had only been because there was an influx of bodies coming in, and then dying a few hours later when no one could save them. Grim Reapers came and went, and that had been the reminder of what you had won, and who you had shot down.

It was normal for Reapers to come to the ward you worked in, but there had been a cluster at the beginning of the week, discussing in a secret huddle before departing the Healer’s ward again. Not a single word to you. And even your parents were sceptical as to why they kept coming and going.

Today was a Sunday and still an awfully productive day.

The Healer’s ward had pale blue walls, warm lights sprinkling down the rooms, and beds kept together with a curtain separating each other. The beds had referred, unconscious patients sleeping on them, their souls on a clear display for Bearers.

One man had just been wheeled into the curtain section, and you were there, scrolling on your tablet, examining his details. The man was in his twenties, had a clean-cut wound to his side, which was thankfully stitched up before the man’s condition deteriorated, and he was very much passed out.

But not dead. His soul, in your eyes, was a flickering ball of smoke that glowed silver and blue, floating over the man like it was confused. It connected to the main by a wispy string that emerged from his chest.

Placing the tablet down, you conjured your wand from your right hand, the bracelet shifting colours until it formed. Your wand was pale blue and pink, bedazzled with shimmering gems climbing the wood until it hit the core. There, two clear bands spanned to a heart shape, which had wisps shifting within them. At the centre of the heart, a pink mist gem glowed with life even in shadows.

You had just about clutched it when a cold prickle suddenly arose at the back of your neck. In an instant, you whipped around and flinched as Jungwon appeared like lightning.

In all his glory, he stood over you with broad shoulders fitted in his charcoal Reaper attire, silver adorning his torso in small chains. His hair was wavy, falling just above his feline gaze where obsidian sat heavily with scrutiny, taking you in wholly. He held a scythe as tall as him, sharp-bladed and curved at the top, while the snath had a glassy texture with shadowy storms shifting underneath.

You swallowed, clutching your wand like a weapon at your tight chest. “Lord Yang?” You forced your shoulders to deflate.

Jungwon didn’t blink as he tried to match your initial encounter to the one right before him. Except, he was confused because they didn’t match at all.

“Lady Sim.” He nodded once without straying from the scrutiny.

He was still judging you, you noted.

“Can I help you with anything? You are in the Healer’s ward,” you said, steadying your voice from the initial icy anxiety. Jungwon raised an amused brow as he noted your nervous tics that jumped into your heartbeat.

How did he lose to you, he wondered.

“Yes. I assume you noticed the bodies coming into the hospital?” He asked, gaze travelling over the man behind you, and past the curtains, counting the exact number in this room alone without seeing them. His scythe was practically fuelling the innate urge to take the souls already.

Jungwon was a Grim Reaper—he couldn’t be blamed.

You nodded, trying to connect the dots. “Yes. I assume you know something?”

“There have been a few accidents recently. All around the border and without explanation. They died without witnesses and under abnormal circumstances,” he explained, nudging his chin to the man over your uniformed shoulder. The soul, to Jungwon, was a sphere carrying dark, shifting mist that he could gauge the weight of. More weight meant the soul bore too much to stay alive.

Jungwon wished it was, but you were right there with sympathy that he couldn’t be bothered to understand.

“So, are they victims of the same crime?” You asked curiously.

“From what I can see, possibly. Lord Jongseong and I are in charge of the case, but there hasn’t been much progress.” He stepped closer to the man, and you followed until you and he faced the victim. “I can never seem to get an actual statement. A very empty file, you could imagine.”

“You want to question him, then?” You inquired, wand already gleaming in your palms. Jungwon stood just at your shoulder, scythe distanced, and gave a simple nod for the go.

The tip of your wand levelled with the flickering, misty sphere, connecting to the threads of magic reaching your fingertips. The soul flickered again, hooking onto the wand’s core as you steadily guided it towards the man’s chest. The light disappeared into him, colour flourishing through his skin once more as you retracted your wand. The heart monitor was stable. You watched the man’s face intently for the slightest action.

After a few seconds, the man’s eyes fluttered open to the hospital ceiling with a foggy gaze. You were a blob of colour above him, shifting back to give him space. That movement itself exposed Jungwon and his friend. The mist left his vision when the dark, metal scythe undeniably came into view like an unsaid threat.

His eyes shot wide with panic, screaming.

Jungwon’s brows sank with offence. You gently pushed the man back into the bed, trying to hush his terror from reaching the other sleeping patients.

“Sir, you’re in the hospital,” you said over his pitchy breaths. He sputtered, pointing a shaky finger in the same direction, and you realised he was terrified of the scythe.

Jungwon was stony, not seeing the problem. You shot a desperate look.

“Can you put that away?” You asked deftly, shoulders deflating.

Jungwon sighed at the hindrance, but let the scythe fall to dark dust that ran up his fingers and formed the cuff again. Crossing his arms, totally unimpressed, he approached the cowering man hiding behind his blanket.

You rolled your eyes. Empathy wasn’t one of Jungwon’s pillars.

“Lord Yang is only here to question you,” you assured the man, peeling the blanket back a little. Instantly, he pulled it back to his chin, staring with wide, unbridled fear at Jungwon.

“So… I’m not dying?” He croaked.

“No, I’m not here for that,” Jungwon spoke, his voice a low tone of ridicule. “I need a statement from before you passed out.”

The man swallowed hard, eyes fluttering profusely as he sorted through the memories. Even then, there was a foggy confusion in place as he slumped into the bed. His anxiety practically rippled over your skin like a tide.

“I was taking a walk. I l-live near that path. I always took that path. And then, I felt something cold when I was about to enter the forest area.” He shuddered, eyes screwing shut as he relived the pain. “Something hit me from behind. And then… I woke up here.”

An attack, clearly. Aside from his initial theory of string suicides, this was the first person with an alternate reason. He wasn’t exactly relieved because if someone were having it out for random civilians, then fear would erupt from every corner of the land. On the other hand, keeping it a secret was just as dangerous.

“We shall let you rest, Sir,” you said softly before picking up your tablet and exiting his space. You drew the curtain shut behind Jungwon as he followed.

It was just you and him now.

His hand flexed, gaze drifting to the rest of the curtains within the room. A soul was dying. He knew you could feel it too. For you, it was a spark switching off in the circuit of your chest.

Jungwon glanced with a tinge of mockery. “Can I take the soul for death?” He asked, tilting his head in this infuriatingly smug way.

“Yes, you can,” you replied, voice sharpening. “I do, however, think you are a bit salty, Lord Yang.”

Your brief boldness stirred something in his hollow gaze. Straightening to his height, Jungwon returned your haughty stare with a burning one of his own. “Salty? No, I just want to do my job, Lady Sim.” He leaned in slightly, making you tip your chin to follow his mirrored stubbornness. “You wound me.”

Before you could react to his vain words, he walked past like a shadow, leaving you there with your own breath caught in the web of your chest.

What an asshole.

── ⋮ ꒰ঌ ໒꒱ˎˊ˗ ✿

THE PARKS DID NOT HAVE GOOD NEWS.

“Lady Yunah threatened you?” Jungwon sighed, trying to decrypt what Lady Somin was doing. His fingers dug into the side of the armchair, anxiety brewing in small doses. Methodically, his index finger tapped the fancy fabric. “I thought it was a friendly talk?”

Somin sighed, sitting opposite Jungwon and his parents. “It was. But, you know how impulsive Jay is,” she explained with prickling guilt. It wasn’t good enough. He jeopardised a whole route Jungwon planned, and now, he had to craft another as if the week wasn’t busy enough.

“It sounded like an accusation, I have to admit,” she said, fiddling with her Reaper cuff snug on her wrist. She was here alone since Jongseong was still in the foreign land of fire and water, out for investigations.

Jungwon didn’t bother to focus on that. What he was focusing on was how the foundations of this murder case were already crumbling before he started.

Jiwon, beside him, tutted despite the softness brimming in her eyes. “Somin…”

“I know. They did not appreciate it, obviously, and denied having anything to do with it,” she explained, gaze dipping with worry.

“So, we have gotten nowhere,” Jihoon clarified, voice also flooded with exasperation, rubbing his one temple.

It was nothing. After a week of potential murder victims, the only scrap Jungwon collected was the short statement that added nothing to the bigger picture. He had dust in his case file. Nothing was coming together.

The talk went bad as well. Tensions were arising. Jungwon felt the proposition ghost over the room before anyone said it. His guts twisted.

“We still have the prophecy,” Somin reminded meekly.

There it was. Exhaling with denial bolted into his words, he spoke. “There must be other options other than diving straight into marriage?”

“Jungwon, what else can be done?” Somin interjected the way a mother would scold a child and harshly steer them in a direction. The sympathy was a feather in her gaze, and it reached his parents, tickling them into a contemplative silence.

He tensed, disbelief striking his spine into a straight pin.

“Mother, Father, you cannot be considering marriage—”

“Son…” Jihoon began in a tone that corroded the walls of his confidence. “It has almost been two weeks since the murders have arisen in the city, and there is not one lead. Most of the victims are dead, there are no witnesses, and CCTV were absent in all places.”

Jungwon’s refusal and panic intertwined into a tight noose as he saw the direction of this. They were agreeing with Somin and the drastic jump to such a resolution. Contempt pricked him like shards. They always had to let the Parks have a say in a decision and colour the bigger picture where Jungwon didn’t need them.

“What if you had a union with… Lady Sim, and unlocked an ability to help solve this?” Jihoon suggested, creeping into territory that had Jungwon clenching his jaw.

“It is a gamble, Father,” Jungwon interjected, exhaling another stream of trapped protests.

“I know that, Son. But what if it worked? It would not be so bad,” Jihoon remarked with a softness that was overridden by Jungwon’s flaming disagreement.

Jiwon softly touched Jungwon’s arm, rubbing encouragement into his elbow. Jungwon’s gaze dipped before he could burn his family to ashes.

“Even if the prophecy does not work, you are of age, Jungwon,” said Somin. Jungwon chained his curt gaze to the table rather than the Park sitting before him, trying to convince him that this was normal. “And those bodies can be stored in my husband’s freezer at the GRA mortuary.”

Jungwon nodded on the outside. On the inside, he wanted to die, but unfortunately for him, Grim Reapers held an inhuman strength that shielded them from Death.

“Won Bon, don’t be so upset. Lady Sim could introduce a whole new perspective to you. And I would get a daughter!” Jiwon assured, smiling gently. Jungwon stiffened at those words. Ice hammered into his ribs, making it harder to breathe as he shut his eyes in the silence. Until his sternum cleared, he swallowed hard as it passed.

Jungwon had a duty, and this was his next one.

—

YOU WERE RUNNING.

Running from your parents, that was.

Through the winding hospital halls and bewildered patients, you just about made it to the reception when your mother snagged your elbow. It sent you yelping as she hauled you to the counter. On your other arm, your father steadied you and didn’t let go. Both were breathing hard, disbelief staining their usual understanding.

“Sim Y/n! How dare you run from your own parents?!” She exclaimed, thoroughly out of breath as she placed a hand on her chest.

“It is not my fault when you are chasing me with an absurd proposal!” You frowned, shooting both of them an exasperated look. You tried to keep quiet, but your panic was clearly crossing the boundaries. “Of course, I am going to run!”

“The Yangs contacted us—”

“And?” You retorted sharply, tugging at your arms, but they were stuck. “You are listening to them over your own daughter?” You scoffed incredulously.

Both of your parents sighed in unison. Your mother was the one to huff. “You are worse than Jaeyun at listening.”

You gaped. “I am not—”

“The point is, Y/n, you are of age, the prophecy exists, and they sent us a proposal to meet,” your father interfered with your useless argument.

“Depending on a prophecy is a silly reason to wed. This is my life,” you bristled, voice dropping into deep lament, eyes desperate. It wasn’t fair that they were unleashing this on you.

Your mother released your arm with a sigh to tuck a strand behind your ear. “I know, my love, but you are the highest-ranking Soul Bearer of age. I would advise Jake, but…” Your mother trailed off, giving an uncertain sideways glance.

“He likes Heeseung?” You sulked.

“Yes, he’s hopeless.” Your father sighed. “He must have been bewitched—”

“Yoon Darling,” your mother chastised with a sideways glare. Your father nodded, but that thought was still clouding his mind.

“Just give it a chance. Meet him, see if there is something, and if there isn’t, then we’ll let it go,” she explained, doing nothing to convince you. The anxiety still lingered around your chest, prickling you with everything that could go wrong.

Then came the thought that you weren’t just a daughter anymore. You also had to act your part of the duty no matter how much you didn’t want to. It was just that marriage was a level up from where you were now.

There was nothing you could do. Not when your parents were still stringing along this expectation so you could follow. Well, if meeting Jungwon, who was too salty for his own good, was the solution, then you had to try.

── ⋮ ꒰ঌ ໒꒱ˎˊ˗ ✿

THE YANG ESTATE WAS TOO BIG.

It wasn’t anything you hadn’t seen before. Your own home was lavish and generous with its high ceilings and comfortable warm tones, but this was another level of luxury.

Jungwon’s home was different shades of golden and cream.

You and your family were sitting in a huge lounge with yellow patterned walls, with five floor-to-ceiling windows letting in the noon sunshine. The room was adorned with drawers and tables of delicate little knick-knacks that probably were touched once in their entire lifespan, and the camelback couch you were sitting on had pillows softer than a single feather.

You could feel it behind your back right now. Under your ivory dress with green embroidered leaves on the bodice, you marvelled at how soft everything was here. The dress you wore had fluttering sleeves that rippled down your legs, intricate lace details drawing attention to you like a cloud lone in a blue sky.

You didn’t want to wear something so… formal and extravagant, but your mother ignored you and paired emerald earrings with a long chain to the back of your half-tied hair. In summary, you felt overdressed for such a meeting.

Your mother was on your right, your father on your left, and Jaeyun was sitting alone on another couch.

Thinking it over now, you wondered how you ended up here. You weren’t great at talking to people. Your closest friends were Minju from your school life, and Heeseung, who had sunshine for a personality.

Heeseung would have beamed at you in this gown, and told you to go all in for the opportunity. He saw no wrongs in a situation, and found positivity in anything. Heeseung was as shy as you, so connecting was easier than with anyone else you had met. Other than the two of them, your own mind chained you away from socialising freely.

It was why, even now when Jungwon was imminent on entering the same space, you felt the steel anxiety drill into your joints, making it momentarily hard to move. You tried to sit straight. Then, you kept your eyes ahead and then dropped the strings when it felt too real like this.

“You look like you are about to shit yourself—”

Your mother glared at Jaeyun. “Language.”

“I was just saying.” He sheepishly smiled, fluffy hair already disobeying the earlier hair brushing. He was as serious as a marshmallow. You couldn’t find comfort from him.

In the posh peace of this lounge, it hit you like thunder that you were about to meet with Death himself. You almost flinched back to reality.

The door handle jostled and opened at the thunder in your back. Entering was Lady Jiwon in a navy gown, Lord Yang Jihyun in a matching blue suit, and the main root of all your anxiety.

Jungwon wore pure charcoal with shimmering grey swirls woven into his blazer, with a fitted waist jacket that had a chain dangling delicately from the small breast pocket. A black tie nestled at the base of his honey throat, accentuating his stupidly broad shoulders.

It was his eyes beneath wavy hair that forced a memory of your first encounter into vision.

They were so dark, sitting like obsidian atop your face, like he wanted to carve the judgement into your skin. You had absolutely no idea what he was feeling in the void behind his irises.

His mother, you recognised as Lady Jiwon from surface-level research, approached with the most pearliest smile.

“I am so delighted everyone made it,” she exclaimed happily. Much more joyous than Jungwon. She brought Lord Yang forward, hands interlocked. “My husband, Jihoon.”

Jihoon bowed his head a little, smiling with a dimple. Did Jungwon have a dimple? “Pleasure to meet everyone.”

“We are honoured,” said your father, getting up to shake Jihoon’s hand firmly before sitting. “I am Yoon. My wife here is Mei, and Jaeyun is our elder son.”

A fluffy smile slipped past Jaeyun’s lips like instinct.

Then, Jiwon brought Jungwon forward with a small, frantic wave of her hand. Obliging to her, he slowly walked forward and bowed his head in greeting.

“Nice to meet everyone,” he murmured with a voice gripping onto control.

At your time to stand, Jiwon’s eyes sparked into fireworks as she smiled. She took your hands, thumbing over your knuckles. “You must be Lady Sim Y/n, the one my Son met in court. You are such a beauty!”

Warmth hit your cheeks. Jihoon smiled. Jungwon, on the other hand, looked like he was verifying that last bit when his eyes dragged slowly over your features.

“Thank you.”

Everyone sat down in their designated space, waiting as maids brought tea in expensive, untouchable ceramics and pastries made for display. You hadn’t moved an inch, focused on itching the anxiety out of your thumb.

You were too focused on whether you were sitting straight or slouching. Or if Jungwon was waiting for you to do that. His gaze was practically carved into your face.

Jaeyun sent a discreet smile behind his teacup, wiggling his brows that conjured a violent wave in you from his deceptive facade.

“As you know, there has been an influx of murders around the borders,” Jihoon began after a sip, dampening the atmosphere.

“Yes, Y/n told us some of it,” Yoon said, his tone dissipating from that initial joy. Silence from your end as your gaze stayed locked on the table.

Jungwon sensed the hitch in your heartbeat. It was a constantly rapid pace ever since you got here. The meeting was well past brief impressions, so he knew it wasn’t targeted at that. No. This pace had been troubling you for a while. Jungwon narrowed his investigative gaze as he sipped his tea.

In your place, your mother cleared her throat. “And, when we got the proposal, we were all…” she gave a subtle sideways glance at your sulky, lowered eyes, “… very pleased.”

Jiwon grinned. “I am glad. Won Bon—”

“Mother,” Jungwon grumbled, making Jiwon smile sheepishly. You caught the distaste when you briefly met eyes. Sheepishly, she smiled in a way that smoothed the anxious knots in your spine.

“My Jungwon is so work-oriented. It took a while to convince him,” she said gently, ignoring Jungwon’s shrivelling nonchalance. Pink dusted his cheeks in a way that almost made him look… shy. You wanted to question how someone like him could do that.

“Oh, we had to chase our daughter down,” Yoon added impishly. The room erupted in small laughter as you stiffened at the memory. Jungwon, from the other side of the couch, slowly raised a brow, trying to imagine you running away. Warmth drowned your cheeks again as his gaze dragged over your face with flames.

You turned back to your tea.

“Jungwon is just as stubborn. When he lost the court case—”

Jungwon straightened, gaze whipping to his father. “The Prophecy… please.”

Jihoon smiled, expecting it. “Right. We proposed this because of the well-known prophecy. Currently, there are no leads, no evidence indicating a clear direction. We hoped unlocking the ability would possibly help solve it all,” Jihoon explained, too serious for the denial homed in your head.

“Even if the ability doesn’t help the murder cases, it is still special if it is known to us,” Jiwon added with a signature smile.

None of this made sense to you. The protests were already burning your tongue, observing how they must have already made their decisions. It was unfair. However, you had to people-please everyone.

Delivering what they expected of you to gain a shred of validation. Working in the hospital as a Soul Bearer and handling the delicate packages of life meant no mistakes. The fragile version of yourself you crafted for them was nothing without being right. Soul Bearing made it clear that it shouldn’t even be a scenario in your head.

The conversation droned on about union possibility, about working together, and new perspectives. Each one had you holding your voice as fate was strategised in front of you. Jungwon was silent as you were, his hand flexing momentarily because the whole thing strengthened his sense of duty again.

One more level for both you and him.

“We shall let you two converse,” Mei said, squeezing your shoulder softly in encouragement. You felt anything but that.

Jihoon sent a look to Jungwon that said to “be kind”, and then was the one to close you and him into the lounge.

The door clicked shut. Silence hung between you since it was much more comforting than to confront whatever was going to happen in the near future.

Discomfort invaded your nerves and forced you to trace the neatly-cut portraits and sunlight peeking through the fluttering curtains. He was still probing your face from afar.

“Do you like summer?” Jungwon asked in a low voice, following your gaze to his sunny windows. He leaned back, a leg crossed over the other, a head tilted with increasing interest.

“I think so. However, I do not like it for so long.” You glanced away from the intense void sitting in his eyes. He raised an inquisitive brow.

“Strange words,” he commented dryly.

“Meaning?” You returned, gaze narrowing.

“Meaning what do you like then?” Jungwon crossed his arms, capturing your eyes within one second. A skip flashed through your heart at his attention.

You glanced at the glass windows once more. “Every season, but not for a long period. Except Spring. It rains too much.”

Jungwon’s lips twitched in amusement at your absurdity, but he remembered he wasn’t supposed to be laughing at you like a comrade. He was still petty over the lost trial, and that alone smoothed his emotions straight.

“I like Spring,” he stated, blinking in a way that was far too serious. “I like the rain.”

Your smirk was subtle and swift. “Of course you do.”

“What do you mean by that?” Jungwon now remarked quietly, his small glare carving into you.

“Spring rain never goes away. Like your grudges, Lord Yang,” you answered, letting go of decorum now. His face fell, nonchalance unravelling right before your eyes as he leaned forward, as if he could physically dig into your mind.

“The Spring rain is a transitional period where the blooms are born after a hard winter.” Jungwon steepled his fingers.

“How poetic.” You cracked the smallest, incredulous smile before reality pulled at your chest once more. This wasn’t some enjoyable meeting with Death. It was a negotiation for marriage.

You hesitantly met his eyes. The hostility wasn’t as present anymore, but there was still a boundary stopping you from seeing his emotions on the other side. He was staring too. There was no hiding about it.

“How are we supposed to fulfil something almost imaginary?” You asked quietly, fingers digging into your lap.

“I don’t know,” he replied after a few quiet seconds. It was a gamble, and he knew you knew it too. Some common ground there.

“Then, what does it entail? To… make this prophecy true?” You asked carefully. Your parents never told you in full how one connected to it. All you knew was that a wand and scythe were needed for it.

His gaze wandered a little before landing on you like he was trying to creep into the territory without scaring you. “My parents have said it a few times…” He got to his feet, cautiously approaching with a generous slowness. “We need to let the wand and scythe touch, and they say you fall into a ‘trance’…” he stopped for a contemplative second, searching.

You spared a look at his shadowy cuff that shone. “Or?”

“Some say in bed,” he stated casually.

“What?” You exclaimed with pinched brows.

He shut his eyes regretfully before opening them. “Not like that. I mean, in a sleep state in bed. You know how sleep works, right?”

“When we sleep, our souls are detached from the body.” You nodded.

“That means, outside the body, our souls can interact. That is one of the ways.” He watched as you stood and began to saunter to the big windows. Following, he scanned the curve of your waist, how your hair draped flawlessly behind your back, and the delicate jewel sat in the sea of your strands.

He strolled along until he lingered behind you.

You realised how stupidly tall he was. “What happens when you… take a soul for death?”

Jungwon was surprised at your interest, considering you wanted to burn holes into his head the other day, but he looked past your face and to the florals bobbing by in the wind outside.

“When I’m delivering them to death, I go to this specific place. Death Meadow is what I call it. Dark, vast—a field, and it’s where Reapers go,” Jungwon replied, recalling the dim skies and the long grass brushing his knees.

You frowned. “Is that all it looks like?”

“Did you expect a castle?” He mused, his deep voice rippling down your spine.

“A field is hardly exciting,” you mumbled, crossing your arms almost in defence. He chuckled curtly.

“Death is hardly exciting,” he said back quietly. Your profile exposed the curve of your nose, or your lips, which, he had to admit, complemented your… facial harmony.

“I know,” you muttered back, sighing. After a few terse seconds, you rolled out your right hand, letting the bracelet morph into the signature wand. “We should try, shouldn’t we?”

Jungwon’s chest swelled with the anticipation of it. If there was something, though he didn’t know what, then a marriage was inevitable. A wedding. A life with you. The person he had nearly cursed out loud sixteen days ago. Thinking back to it, maybe he was overreacting, but then the thought crumbled as his ego ached.

You watched his face shift with thoughts, probably knowing how real this all was. The finality hammered through your chest until breathing felt tiring. This was it. And there was only one way to find out.

Wordlessly, you inched the wand forward towards his scythe, ignoring the apprehension twisting violently in your guts.

You shared a look that he mirrored: this would seal their fates into one path.

The scythe touched first. Blade met gem, and instantly, a heavy wave rippled from your chest to the base of your spine, activating some other part within you had no experience with. It thrummed in your ears and smoked the space behind your eyes. Bewildered, you glanced at Jungwon and froze when his irises glowed.

No void. His eyes had a corona of something white that haunted his now brown irises. He looked personal. Human. Normal.

Jungwon’s breath hitched as blue slithered and lit your own eyes homed the mist that felt as if they had always been there in the shadows. Inside, his body rattled like fabric shifting over one another, creating friction and warmth that was too energetic to handle.

You departed first, wand clutched to your chest with ferocity. Jungwon’s scythe fell back into a cuff, catching his curt breath that escaped his control. The silence was a sentence on both you and him before Jungwon sighed.

“You felt that, did you not?” He asked, eyes averted.

You nodded once. “Yes.” Your tone was eroded by anxiety.

“And you know what that means?” He glanced at you again, where acceptance was absent from your stance. Your shoulders were stiff when you tentatively returned his gaze, which was a void once more. “My parents shall talk to yours. For a union.”

He turned, ready to walk out, but your uncertainty followed after him a few steps. “Do you want to get married?” You couldn’t help it. This whole thing had to be turning his axis too.

That made him stop, shoulders shifting beneath like he was preparing a practised answer. It was a second late. A second of hesitance you spotted in yourself. You thought he would be real for a second, but he straightened like a stone wall again.

“I don’t have to want to. I need to,” he answered in a resolved tone before continuing his stride towards the closed doors. His heart protested in angry stomps, which he ignored.

You felt it, however. His worth anchored his shoulders, fragile as it was huge on him. It curled, a monster he efficiently tucked away.

That was enough to tell you he wasn’t going to back out.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━˚₊‧꒰ა ♡ ໒꒱‧₊˚━━━━━━━━━━━━━

── .✦ [NOTES]: okay, did yall like this? You can tell I gave up in the end with proof reading this. Also, I am on holiday, but I had no wifi for a bit, and now I do. So, I haven't written anything LMFAO. But, even then, I hope you guys liked this! <3

ᯓ [DREAM LIBRARY] °❀⋆.ೃ ᐟ.ᐟ

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ᴛᴀɢʟɪꜱᴛ : @soyyiiu @won1yoiz @yangbreads @t-rex-12 @itsstarynights @jungwonisme @kjunebuggie @stealerrrrsstuff @ughsoannoying @melancholatte @zino-yoon @xozerose @orngejuic-io

The last thing he wanted to do was debate whether he could do his job of taking a soul. His whole life revolved around knowing when a body was ready for death, not for battling it. Jungwon could read a fading heartbeat when close, so getting a court case was an insult to his work.

In the case, a middle-aged man had a terrible accident and sustained injuries all over, enough for him to fall into the fragile hands of a coma. Six months was the monitoring period for a body to be observed, but after that? Grim Reapers would get involved.

Jungwon had his head straight and was happy to take the soul and gain a rank. But then, a dispute had landed in his office, infuriatingly so.

An abominable dispute challenged his objective. It meant having to go to court and contest whether to pull life support or keep the man steady in sleep.

It dampened his whole week.

Even now, as he left behind the crowd cursing him out at the front, Jungwon strolled by the court walls like it was his crafted path, knowing exactly where to go. The public meant nothing to him because, to them, he was a heartless monster that fed off people’s souls.

Of course, Jungwon didn’t feed off souls. He had no care for who he took and what happened once he closed the doors, so he really felt all those insults bounce off his back.

He trained for that. Every acidic remark thrown, he learned to wash it off before it could ever burn. He had to. When being the heir to taking over the GRA, it was key to tune out everyone’s useless opinions and go with his gut. And his gut was where his duty was shaped.

His father, Yang Jihoon, taught him that. He ingrained it in Jungwon’s head. And he was supposed to be here.

The hallway was filled with several court officials talking among clients, but none were his father. Despite the push to learn punctuality, his father never practised it.

Whatever. Jungwon sauntered to his assigned courtroom and pushed the doors open to the grand, brown interior.

There was a raised platform at the front for the judge, two long tables parallel to each other from opposite sides of the room, and the lower gallery consisted of seats arranged in rows until it hit the main door. The upper panel had glass windows to accommodate more secretive observers.

It wasn’t empty. Among the lower gallery, a woman who matched the victim’s age sat with her shoulders hunched, eyes cloudy with grief. She looked as if she was curling into a seated, dejected ball. Beside her was an elderly couple, whom he only assumed to be the parents. In a mirroring figure, they leaned on each other, frowns anchored with apprehension.

Jungwon paid them no mind as he sat down, finally setting his eyes on who dared to dispute his claim. Except he paused the stream of thoughts when he saw you.

You sat with perfectly aligned shoulders controlled beneath the smoothest white shirt he had ever seen. Those were tucked into the baby blue skirt reaching the top of your knees. The pleats looked strictly ironed and straight. And he almost scoffed at the white stockings with matching pale blue bows delicately atop your knees like you were pulling attention in the little ways. Your shoes weren’t dramatic. They were reserved flats that probably swallowed sounds before they made one.

You didn’t stop writing. Your pen flew across the paper, writing some nonsense, he imagined, and didn’t take a break. Not even to look at him.

Jungwon slowly frowned a fraction, his own index finger tapping the table methodically as he processed the strict line of your lips and how your eyes simply followed the flow of the ink. It felt unnerving. So, he tapped into your heartbeat.

Easygoing pace with a slight hitch, as if it knew it was being spied on. Jungwon couldn’t spot the nervousness on your face if that was what your heart was translating. It confused him, so he glanced to where your right hand was adorned with a spiral of gems coloured baby blue and pink before it shaped a heart, and extended into rings that hugged each finger.

Jungwon tilted his head. On his own fidgeting hand, there was a metal cuff, running with black runes beneath that spoke of the deaths it aided. His own cuff grew out, extended into rings for each finger. It was where his scythe stayed when he didn’t want it present. It gravely helped with walking around in public without conjuring fear.

The only difference between him and you was that you were a Soul Bearer.

The exact opposite to who he was.

Instead of taking life, they delivered them; instead of scanning heartbeats, they sensed emotion through the ripple and weight of energy; they also boosted souls and encouraged them back into bodies, bringing colour to cheeks again.

Jungwon loathed them because they brought him here. To this arid courtroom where it reeked of tears and bad news.

It didn’t disturb you in the slightest. Uninterrupted, you kept scribing whatever nonsense, possibly breaking down whatever hurdle he was about to chuck your way. As if you knew.

How stupid.

Jungwon halted the finger tapping and opened his laptop, beginning to open his notes and read them with burning eyes. This particular time, he felt like he was going to have to recite everything verbatim to break through that stoic shield of yours.

Eventually, court officials lined the benches, had their notepads out, and the writers were organised. The judge had her glasses on, making everyone rise before it all commenced.

A flicker brewed in Jungwon’s nerves, making his fingers dance again. Cooling it down, he stood and walked around to present his argument. Only then did you meet his gaze.

Oh, you had this stupidly sweet gaze, scanning him so thoroughly as if he was a dream all in your head. But his feline eyes were heavy with his own judgement as it carved into your skin, taking in your features for memory. Finally, you surrendered back to rewriting the ink on your paper.

Jungwon refrained from a smug smirk and faced the judge instead of the grieving family. He learned the hard way that facing the gallery earned a strong tide of glares as a Grim Reaper.

“I will repeat the rule for everyone that the hospital has set forth,” Jungwon said, not bothering to face you, who probably knew this fact already. “The hospital has a six-month period where the patient is monitored while comatose. After that, Grim Reapers are allowed to take the soul once it reaches six months.”

Someone sniffled in the room, and pens scribbled on paper.

“Under the Grim Reaper’s Association, I argue that keeping him in the hospital will not benefit him any further.” He cast a final look at the judge. The heartbeats around him practically hammered with disagreement and hidden insults, but Jungwon sat back down and let his words sink in.

Logical and curt. His very way of working.

The counterargument started with you. The flats made no sound, gaze drifting to the crowd rather than to him. A tactic he found didn’t work in his favour. For you, however, the elderly couple and wife had a sparkle in their teary eyes. In your hand was a pen, thumb repeatedly rubbing the lid to occupy your nervous tick.

Your heartbeat, he found, was still being restrained with great effort.

“Mr Kim suffered several injuries in the car accident,” you began, the cadence of your voice reserved, a practised path with no gaps between. “However, over the months, he has displayed great improvement. His wounds are healing, and his vitals are stable.”

Repeating the case—also another strategy you put forth to remind everyone why you weren’t the ‘bad’ one here.

“His soul, as Reapers and Bearers can see, is still connected to him. Keeping him alive is a perfect opportunity to encourage his soul to return to the body. We have a specialised ward for it, which my family primarily work in,” you explained, growing more firm. Then, you finally hooked your attention on him, your thumb now harshly digging into the ridge of the pen lid.

His gaze was obsidian and endless, and staring would only lose your train of thought. Apart from his subtle frown, you squared your shoulders a little and faced the contempt sewn into his brows.

“I agree that six months is the observational period; however, with Mr Kim’s improvement, he can gain a sense of his soul again. It is the last step,” you said, trying very hard to stay on his gaze. It was like a black flame that you had never seen before, but you were too afraid to explore.

Jungwon didn’t move to make a note. He was too busy dealing with your hidden audacity to spell this case out for him with baby steps. He understood all of this, of course, but keeping a corpse in a ward was hardly productive. The thought was cruel and strict, but he knew nothing other than that.

“For patients that do not improve, it is another situation entirely. For Mr Kim, it is a chance. And, I think his family would be pleased that this last step is the one to take, and the one that could break his coma.” You finally swerved gazes to the judge, smiling a little before sitting down.

Jungwon felt like your argument wasn’t even much. It was a few sentences bedazzled with empathy before being given to the gallery and court officials to write.

His heart began to drum with animosity. It was a speed he couldn’t chain back, and it ran against his ribs. Not because you were better, but because he felt as if everyone else was going to side with you. There was no jury, but he had a gut feeling that wrapped ivy around his spine.

No. He shoved that whole feeling beneath soil and mentally stomped on it. You were just a glorified empath.

As the minutes ticked on, you and Jungwon were heaving arguments back and forth. You, however, had thorns gradually growing in your tone. Each piece he gave, you returned it with another sharp counterattack, and you were growing sulky, even. He had focused too much on the sunken brows that aided your frustration with him, and the way you met his gaze head-on with a crash when talking back to him.

That initial restrained heartbeat was slower now, but burned strong with annoyance.

“If he wanted to come back to his body, his soul would’ve returned and awakened him.”

“A wound does not heal so easily either.”

“There are no specific steps to bring a soul back except by healing. And there is no guarantee there either.” Jungwon’s gaze narrowed.

“Lord Yang, what benefit does taking a soul away do other than giving you an increase of rank?” You glared at him, all soft fury with a tone that skidded against his ears. Your heartbeat fluttered, sinking once more with the light downturn of your lip.

Jungwon had his comment ready. Leaning forward with those feline eyes full of hollow understanding, he spoke.

“Lady Sim, I would love to give a lecture on my job and how it helps our nation, but the hour is coming to an end. All I have to say is that I abide by the rules given.” He sat back with his relaxed, intertwined fingers on his lap, smug. “That is the strongest argument one can give.”

That last comment forced you to avert your burning eyes to the ink on the page, recalling the calm strokes you had written before getting all worked up.

Recess arrived shortly after that. It was a thirty-minute period that allowed Jungwon to sit in a room with bare, cream walls, a few couches, and a huge window broadcasting bobbing flowers and a trickling fountain in silence.

All too idyllic for such a place adopting stress, he thought.

The door opened behind the armchair he rested on.

“Son!” His father’s voice flinched him from the calm petals.

“Father.” Jungwon nodded. Jihoon was slightly taller and wore the routine blue blazer and pants with a jolly stroke of colour on his face. His features were a frame for innate joy and twin dimples.

“Soul Bearer case?” Jihoon asked, sitting down opposite Jungwon.

To that, he nodded, the initial exasperation filling his head with aggravating smoke. “A waste of time, really?”

“She’s just doing her job, Son.”

“Taking up hospital beds with corpses is not productive in any sense,” Jungwon corrected, flexing his cuffed hand as if he could imagine his scythe’s hunger for a soul. Calming that pang into a gentle ache, Jungwon sighed, staring once more at the silent nature outside.

“Don’t be envious, Won. It is not a good sight on you.”

“I always look like this.” Jungwon raised a bitter brow.

“Exactly.” Jihoon raised his brows in return, making Jungwon realise that his parental figure was not so serious about this. Jungwon wished he could be as loose, but that was all before when expectations weren’t premature, and when duty had a schedule.

“I was watching,” Jihoon added impishly.

“You did?” Jungwon inquired. That didn’t help alleviate the pressure to win.

“Of course. I wouldn’t miss it,” he replied, face turning a little brave as he spared a glance at Jungwon. “And, I must say, she is quite a match—”

“Father,” Jungwon said with a deep, contemptuous sigh. “Not this again.”

Jihoon pursed his lips, trying very hard to choose his words without it blowing a fuse in the process. “I never said anything about the prophecy.”

“You were thinking it,” Jungwon exclaimed, gesturing wildly with a single hand. “You made that face.”

“I did not.”

“You did. You did that stupid thing with your lips,” Jungwon pointed out, eyes shiny with pins of refusal. Jihoon broke into a sigh.

“Can you blame me? You are the heir to the highest-ranking Death Lineage, and Lady Sim Y/n happens to be the highest-ranking Soul Bearer,” Jihoon explained, voice lowering from that joy to something stern. “I did my research in the session.”

Jungwon wasn’t having it as his cuffed hand flexed into a fist, determined to cling to his refusal. “You are depending on a centuries-long prophecy that has barely come to fruition. What makes you think it is me and… her?”

“You two are alike,” Jihoon countered.

“We absolutely are not!” Jungwon argued, suddenly on his feet. It was probably getting late. Desperate to escape his dad, he glanced at the clock and walked with relief when he noticed that recess was coming to an end. He yanked the door open.

“I need to go, Father. The Judge would have declared a verdict now.”

“I will come with you,” his father said, already on his feet and out the door before Jungwon could blink.

As Jungwon watched his jolly father walk further away, he prayed that he would win.

── ⋮ ꒰ঌ ໒꒱ˎˊ˗ ✿

JUNGWON LOST.

The Judge kept going with his announcement. Jungwon was sure he hadn’t heard it right, but then he glanced at the family cooped in the one row flooded with relief. They had burst to their feet, rushed to the barrier, and began to thank you profusely.

A heavy denial wedged in between his ribs and stayed like a sore thumb. However, he had the habit of watching.

You smiled gently at the family, shaking their hands. Underneath, your heartbeat was a swift flutter of disbelief and happiness all at once. It began to soar while Jungwon’s heart found the common, raging rhythm, bumping with that wedge of incredulity that the verdict stabbed him with.

You dipped your head to the family, barely glanced at Jungwon, and then smiled at the Judge. As quick as that, you slipped through the staff door, disappearing like smoke after setting his whole mind on fire.

What just happened?

Jungwon hadn’t failed ever since his first trial. And that was when he was of age—eighteen. Back then, he had been under the brunt of every learned rule, every cold emotion at his first trial. Ultimately, the lack of balance had tipped him off the scale, making his delivery messy.

He had learned from that. The mistakes were studied, then erased from history because he didn’t lose one after that. Some trials consisted of investigations rather than tangling with the public’s hearts. Regardless, he had a vow.

He never lost.

Now, it was unravelling because of you. A crack in the canvas.

Jungwon stormed into the hallway, pins pricking his spine that made him want to swallow a cigarette so he could numb his blood. His father appeared by his side, matching his furious pace.

They reached the glass exit to the sprightly city where, beyond the tree line, the city bustled under a clear, blue sky. People wandered in or out of the courthouse, navigating their own proficient jobs and lives.

Jihoon stopped Jungwon from abusing any more of the floor by hooking a gentle hand on his shoulder. “You are taking this too harshly.”

Jungwon loathed that tone. It was bubble wrap for delicate situations, but Jungwon was not that. He preferred it if his father told him off for losing. He needed that lash of discipline.

“It’s not a success, is it?” Jungwon asked, sardonic as he met his father’s searching gaze.

“It was not totally useless,” Jihoon said, resigned. Jungwon glared at his father’s gabble.

“You are hopeless. This prophecy—”

“Are you saying it is fake?” Jihoon raised a brow.

Jungwon stayed silent, his jaw clenching gradually, teetering between telling his father off or being respectful. Then, he thinned his lips, glancing outwards again.

“I didn’t say that.”

The prophecy his father was infatuated with was made by a man centuries ago, claiming that two opposites would unite. Specifically, it was Life and Death. And when they did have a union, it would unlock a secret ability.

What that ability was—nobody knew.

So, it was a dangerous gamble.

“I just think that being too optimistic about something so old will do no good. Save those prayers for useful things. It could have been for my trial, but that did not come true,” Jungwon said, tilting his head with knives glinting in his eyes.

Then, before his father could stop him, Jungwon descended the stairs to where his car pulled up. Black and sleek with tinted windows when the sun was too much.

“You never know!” Jihoon said, chasing after him.

Jungwon entered the car and closed it in his father’s face.

── ⋮ ꒰ঌ ໒꒱ˎˊ˗ ✿

“A little birdie told me you won against Death himself.”

Your brother, Jaeyun, was following around with sparkles for eyes, fluffy hair, and a bright smile. However, you had no time for him right now.

Currently, you were working a shift in the Healer’s ward of the hospital, holding your tablet at the reception counter. It was fairly quiet for now, but you knew someone was bound for an emergency, and you needed your mind set before it happened. It was a trait grown through months of doing this profession.

Jaeyun wasn’t helping when he was constantly reminding you of that court trial. It was such a dream. Sure, you had delivered a stitched explanation, but beneath the mask, you were made of loose seams and tattered explanations. Usually, doing court trials didn’t bring erratic nerves, but Yang Jungwon was a star in the universe of court trials. So, finding out you were against him had forced all your thoughts to be shot clean.

“Don’t ignore me, Y/nie,” he said, leaning on the counter next to your tablet.

“Who was your birdie?” You asked, sparing a swift glance, but scrolling harder on the screen, barely reading the words.

“My husband,” Jaeyun answered with a pearly smile.

That halted your scrolling, shooting a bewildered gaze at your brother. “Please stop calling Heeseung that.”

Jake grinned, adjusting his glasses. “Nope! Heeseung is my friend, brother, and husband—”

Your brows sank with a thousand confused questions. “Brother and husband?”

“Trust me. Heeseung wouldn’t even mind,” Jake affirmed before his gaze was over your shoulder, eyes lighting up with recognition.

Heeseung had burgundy hair flopping around his sweet, doe-brown eyes where starry thoughts were born. He wore the same, neutral uniform, white and baby blue, and his wand, which had been in his hand, began to crumble into a magic mist and slither back into a cuff atop his wrist. He leaned on the same counter your crisis was short-circuiting.

“I heard my name,” Heeseung said, leaning beside you. You frowned.

“You told Jake about my trial? You were there?” You asked sulkily.

“I was actually in the upper panel. I told them I was a past client that felt too grateful to skip a trial,” Heeseung said proudly, brows raising. Jake was easily impressed, but you scoffed, nudging Heeseung with a soft palm.

“You could have told them you were my friend?”

“I like the back story—the flair it gives me,” he replied, chuckling. Both men laughed at either side of you. It was disgustingly romantic.

“Fine. I battled Lord Yang,” you began quietly, remembering the dips of anxiety you had fallen into through the court session.

“You make it sound like he tried to take you out with his scythe,” Jake mused, impish.

“It felt like it,” you shot back, nudging Jake away as he grinned like a daisy.

“You actually did really well. I couldn’t tell you wanted to die,” Heeseung commented casually. He recalled the sediments of control fueled into your straight posture, the tone of metal certainty, and your perfect reasoning. It was a win, he thought.

While you could tick the good points of the whole thing, Jungwon’s midnight glare distanced you the whole time. In fact, you were glad your skin was still intact after the whole thing. Mainly because you had lost the anxious edge in the last quarter of that argument. The rage shielded it.

Getting that exact verdict had switched the apprehension back on. You had never packed so quickly in your life.

“I never want to do that again. Nor meet him,” you admitted, rubbing the side of your head to erode the memory.

Heeseung made a sound of disagreement, crossing his arms like he just pulled a memory back into vision. You and Jake both glanced hastily.

“What?” You said, a twinge of horror twisting in your voice.

“Senior Lord Yang, his dad, by the way, was sitting across me in the upper panel. And he kept looking at you, Y/n,” Heeseung explained, eyebrows wiggling suggestively with a goofy grin.

This was going somewhere awful already. “So?”

“Don’t you know who Dada Yang is?” Heeseung asked, brows furrowed in a sudden second.

“Don’t call him that, Seung.” You grimaced.

Jake completely ignored you. “Dada Yang is the top Lord of Death. Lord Jungwon is his only heir as of now. And he is of age.” He glanced at your increasingly gloomy face. “Lord Yang Jungwon is twenty-two.”

“And you are twenty-one,” Heeseung said like clockwork. This just went downhill easily.

Their talk made your smile stiff, the appreciation for their stupid facts dying on the spot. “Guys—”

“You could be the one—” Jake tried to say.

You slammed a tempered hand on the counter, flinching both Jake and Heeseung out of their seesaw of a conversation. Both turned with bewildered gazes, clearly lacking your perspective. You straightened with locked shoulders and exasperated brows.

“No. I am not the ‘one’, okay?” You began quietly. “Quoting something so old and ridiculous is out of the question. You sound like our parents,” you chastised Jake, picking up your tablet.

It completely flew over Jake’s head. “Y/n, you can’t deny that this could be real. We deliver souls to pregnant women with wands. I don’t think anything is too ‘ridiculous’.”

“How many times have Soul Bearers and Grim Reapers tried to come together, only for the lineages never to come to fruition?” You asked them, tablet held with paling knuckles. When you received silence, you resolutely continued. “Right. There has not been any circumstance like that. Because of that, there was never a successful union.”

Heeseung and Jake stayed silent, slowly deflating from their sky-high ideas. Mischief, however, danced in Jake’s eyes as he leaned on the counter. You sulked.

“You never know!”

“Jake!”

He put his hands up in surrender. “I’m saying the truth!”

── ⋮ ꒰ঌ ໒꒱ˎˊ˗ ✿

THE PARKS WERE A CONSTANT PRESENCE IN JUNGWON’S MANOR.

Specifically, Park Jongseong, who was witty and goal-oriented; those qualities clashed with his premature trigger that would act before he fully thought.

With him were his parents. Lady Somin and Lord Sehyun were a constant force existing throughout his life. For as long as Jungwon could remember, the Parks were a second set of parents from another tree. They were so closely entwined with the Yangs that they lived only yonder from the Yang Manor, separated simply by a cobblestone path.

Today, everyone gathered for tea in the Yang garden. It was behind the glorious manor that stood like a palace, underneath a cream marquee where manicured foliage was shaped up pillars, and where petals learned to keep off the path.

There was no use in these mundane tea moments. So, he was looking through some documentation on his tablet, still boiling from the court case from a week ago. He hadn’t seen you again, and hoped it would stay like that.

The tablet was suddenly snatched out of his arms. Jungwon jumped momentarily before snapping his eyes up, only to soften when he saw his beamy mother.

“Won Bon, you know there is no work talk at tea time,” she chastised gently, her voice the weight of petals. She faced the tablet down on the table.

Lady Jiwon, his kind and sensitive mother, was someone he couldn’t defy.

“Sorry, Mother,” he murmured. Jiwon smiled a sweet thing before sitting next to him. He could never get anything past her these days. Not even work.

Tea time was a sacred time where family bonded. It was her routine to gather everyone around this white-clothed table and talk about the most recent treasures of their lives. But the treasures were boring life events.

The glass doors to the garden opened, revealing Jihoon talking to the Parks with troubled voices.

Lord Sehyun wore something casual and meaningful, with his clean shirt and pants; Lady Somin wore her smooth gown with pin-straight black hair; Jongseong’s hair was loose, wearing all black, like Jungwon.

“Somin, was my husband keeping you late again?” Jiwon doted sweetly with a pearly smile.

Somin scoffed, subtly jabbing a thumb in her husband’s direction. “It is not all yours. My husband and Son are the same. They talk about work everywhere.”

“Just like Won Bon!” Jiwon exclaimed, nodding at Jungwon. The nickname was embarrassing despite being a source of warmth. He never told her off for it anymore. The last time he told her not to, she did it again in the next breath.

He acknowledged the Parks with a casual, murmured greeting. Then, everyone sat down in their designated spaces, letting maids pour beverages into ceramics before being left alone. His father’s frantic heartbeat was chasing something unknown, too panicked to be about something unserious. The tension tangled his father’s brows, and Jungwon couldn’t quite figure it out.

“What happened?” Jungwon asked first.

Jongseong quirked a half-impressed smile. “As diligent as ever.” He leaned in, some of that amusement draining away. “There have been bodies found near the border. And, I’m seeing a pattern.”

There had been a few souls he himself picked up before the GRA collected the body, but all that was on his confiscated tablet. From memory, the people that died had done so in freak accidents: a crushed skull here, an impaled body somewhere else, and all away from the heart of the city to where rurality made most of the location.

“I remember recording such,” Jungwon said, lifting his gaze thoughtfully. “I thought they had normal causes, non-suspicious, that is.”

“I know.” Jongseong hummed. “But all of them are near the borders. Suicide, accidents—but they all died near the same place.”

Good observation. The only detail was: where was Jongseong leading with this?

“What are you suggesting? Murder?” Jungwon asked, incredulous almost.

“It’s what the evidence dictates,” Jongseong affirmed, tension slithering into his brows. Another detail stabbed Jungwon out of the ludicrous conclusion.

Most of the people who died had nothing special to their name. They were people who barely belonged to a magical Lineage—were normal workers. They weren’t from the top of the economy or society.

“Those who died had completely normal lives. Who would want to murder them?” Jungwon let the question break the ‘no-work’ talk and displease his mother. She had gone quiet, but distaste radiated out of her tightly crossed arms.

“If it is murder, we need to investigate,” Jihoon said, tone dipping with worry.

Jongseong’s eyes gleamed with an idea. “I could ask the foreign bordering land,” he suggested. Jungwon hadn’t even processed it before Somin was nodding enthusiastically.

“That is smart. I have researcher friends on the other side. Fire Lineages,” she said, laying down the plan. “I have been meeting them a lot. They would happily house you, Jongie.”

Jungwon had one tiny protest. That proposition was based on no leads, motive, or even victims, as dark as it sounded. It was crossing a road blind for an inevitable car crash before the investigation even began.

“Before that,” Jungwon interrupted the Parks’ shared epiphany, “we need to check the areas and find clues. If it is a cause for concern, we can get the court involved—”

“Speaking of court,” Jongseong said, whipping his eyes towards Jungwon with mischief. He leaned forward, grinning in a way that made Jungwon rub his one temple. “You lost it against Soul Bearer Lady Sim!”

There it was. Jungwon exhaled something close to snapping as the Parks practically leaned over their spaces, gasping with too much curiosity for their own good. The avalanche of questions hit him instantly.

“I have heard of Lady Sim,” said Sehyun.

“She was impressive against our Jungwon,” his father rejoiced with celebration.

“Won Bon did well,” his mother chimed with glittering praise.

“Someone as powerful as her matches—” Jay had tried to say before Jungwon abruptly stood, eyes of oblivion icing each of their excited interjections into a stunned silence. Then, he slowly exhaled again.

“We are not going to talk about the prophecy.” Jungwon stabbed a stare into each person. “We are going to have tea and forget this conversation ever came up.”

He was embarrassed to say the least. His ego had taken a step down a huge ladder, and that was enough to crumble his sense of duty.

Jiwon slithered over the icy defence and tugged him back to his seat. Obedient, he did, but her lips were in a slight pout.

“Won Bon, we can not reject that prophecy. It is important. A tradition almost,” she explained, voice somehow flattening the jagged refusal frozen in his chest.

“I know,” he said with a sigh. “But centuries have passed, and nothing has flourished from it. Quite frankly, I am beginning to deny it.”

The table became smoky with a suffocating silence that drifted from his brittle confession. In that moment, Jiwon sent a desperate plea to her husband via their gazes. Jihoon exhaled, leaning forward with steepled fingers on the table.

“Look, Jungwon, it may not come true. I know. But if tension rises and we need a new ability, then it is going to have to be an option,” he declared in the voice that directed junior reapers to be merciless. Jungwon felt the small part of him shrink under his gaze.

He was of age. He always shaped himself for whatever form duty came as. But, marriage? To the person who sliced his ego within hours? It was a disturbing revelation he couldn’t settle with.

Marriage itself scared him. Having to care and tend to someone other than himself. The furthest he doted on someone was his mother and father. If anything happened to them, it would be a failure of his whole existence.

The prophecy sat on his mind, perched like a crow ready to pick at him at a ready moment.

── ⋮ ꒰ঌ ໒꒱ˎˊ˗ ✿

IT HAD BEEN NINE DAYS SINCE YOU WON AGAINST JUNGWON IN THAT TRIAL.

Ever since then, you were working shift after shift. That had only been because there was an influx of bodies coming in, and then dying a few hours later when no one could save them. Grim Reapers came and went, and that had been the reminder of what you had won, and who you had shot down.

It was normal for Reapers to come to the ward you worked in, but there had been a cluster at the beginning of the week, discussing in a secret huddle before departing the Healer’s ward again. Not a single word to you. And even your parents were sceptical as to why they kept coming and going.

Today was a Sunday and still an awfully productive day.

The Healer’s ward had pale blue walls, warm lights sprinkling down the rooms, and beds kept together with a curtain separating each other. The beds had referred, unconscious patients sleeping on them, their souls on a clear display for Bearers.

One man had just been wheeled into the curtain section, and you were there, scrolling on your tablet, examining his details. The man was in his twenties, had a clean-cut wound to his side, which was thankfully stitched up before the man’s condition deteriorated, and he was very much passed out.

But not dead. His soul, in your eyes, was a flickering ball of smoke that glowed silver and blue, floating over the man like it was confused. It connected to the main by a wispy string that emerged from his chest.

Placing the tablet down, you conjured your wand from your right hand, the bracelet shifting colours until it formed. Your wand was pale blue and pink, bedazzled with shimmering gems climbing the wood until it hit the core. There, two clear bands spanned to a heart shape, which had wisps shifting within them. At the centre of the heart, a pink mist gem glowed with life even in shadows.

You had just about clutched it when a cold prickle suddenly arose at the back of your neck. In an instant, you whipped around and flinched as Jungwon appeared like lightning.

In all his glory, he stood over you with broad shoulders fitted in his charcoal Reaper attire, silver adorning his torso in small chains. His hair was wavy, falling just above his feline gaze where obsidian sat heavily with scrutiny, taking you in wholly. He held a scythe as tall as him, sharp-bladed and curved at the top, while the snath had a glassy texture with shadowy storms shifting underneath.

You swallowed, clutching your wand like a weapon at your tight chest. “Lord Yang?” You forced your shoulders to deflate.

Jungwon didn’t blink as he tried to match your initial encounter to the one right before him. Except, he was confused because they didn’t match at all.

“Lady Sim.” He nodded once without straying from the scrutiny.

He was still judging you, you noted.

“Can I help you with anything? You are in the Healer’s ward,” you said, steadying your voice from the initial icy anxiety. Jungwon raised an amused brow as he noted your nervous tics that jumped into your heartbeat.

How did he lose to you, he wondered.

“Yes. I assume you noticed the bodies coming into the hospital?” He asked, gaze travelling over the man behind you, and past the curtains, counting the exact number in this room alone without seeing them. His scythe was practically fuelling the innate urge to take the souls already.

Jungwon was a Grim Reaper—he couldn’t be blamed.

You nodded, trying to connect the dots. “Yes. I assume you know something?”

“There have been a few accidents recently. All around the border and without explanation. They died without witnesses and under abnormal circumstances,” he explained, nudging his chin to the man over your uniformed shoulder. The soul, to Jungwon, was a sphere carrying dark, shifting mist that he could gauge the weight of. More weight meant the soul bore too much to stay alive.

Jungwon wished it was, but you were right there with sympathy that he couldn’t be bothered to understand.

“So, are they victims of the same crime?” You asked curiously.

“From what I can see, possibly. Lord Jongseong and I are in charge of the case, but there hasn’t been much progress.” He stepped closer to the man, and you followed until you and he faced the victim. “I can never seem to get an actual statement. A very empty file, you could imagine.”

“You want to question him, then?” You inquired, wand already gleaming in your palms. Jungwon stood just at your shoulder, scythe distanced, and gave a simple nod for the go.

The tip of your wand levelled with the flickering, misty sphere, connecting to the threads of magic reaching your fingertips. The soul flickered again, hooking onto the wand’s core as you steadily guided it towards the man’s chest. The light disappeared into him, colour flourishing through his skin once more as you retracted your wand. The heart monitor was stable. You watched the man’s face intently for the slightest action.

After a few seconds, the man’s eyes fluttered open to the hospital ceiling with a foggy gaze. You were a blob of colour above him, shifting back to give him space. That movement itself exposed Jungwon and his friend. The mist left his vision when the dark, metal scythe undeniably came into view like an unsaid threat.

His eyes shot wide with panic, screaming.

Jungwon’s brows sank with offence. You gently pushed the man back into the bed, trying to hush his terror from reaching the other sleeping patients.

“Sir, you’re in the hospital,” you said over his pitchy breaths. He sputtered, pointing a shaky finger in the same direction, and you realised he was terrified of the scythe.

Jungwon was stony, not seeing the problem. You shot a desperate look.

“Can you put that away?” You asked deftly, shoulders deflating.

Jungwon sighed at the hindrance, but let the scythe fall to dark dust that ran up his fingers and formed the cuff again. Crossing his arms, totally unimpressed, he approached the cowering man hiding behind his blanket.

You rolled your eyes. Empathy wasn’t one of Jungwon’s pillars.

“Lord Yang is only here to question you,” you assured the man, peeling the blanket back a little. Instantly, he pulled it back to his chin, staring with wide, unbridled fear at Jungwon.

“So… I’m not dying?” He croaked.

“No, I’m not here for that,” Jungwon spoke, his voice a low tone of ridicule. “I need a statement from before you passed out.”

The man swallowed hard, eyes fluttering profusely as he sorted through the memories. Even then, there was a foggy confusion in place as he slumped into the bed. His anxiety practically rippled over your skin like a tide.

“I was taking a walk. I l-live near that path. I always took that path. And then, I felt something cold when I was about to enter the forest area.” He shuddered, eyes screwing shut as he relived the pain. “Something hit me from behind. And then… I woke up here.”

An attack, clearly. Aside from his initial theory of string suicides, this was the first person with an alternate reason. He wasn’t exactly relieved because if someone were having it out for random civilians, then fear would erupt from every corner of the land. On the other hand, keeping it a secret was just as dangerous.

“We shall let you rest, Sir,” you said softly before picking up your tablet and exiting his space. You drew the curtain shut behind Jungwon as he followed.

It was just you and him now.

His hand flexed, gaze drifting to the rest of the curtains within the room. A soul was dying. He knew you could feel it too. For you, it was a spark switching off in the circuit of your chest.

Jungwon glanced with a tinge of mockery. “Can I take the soul for death?” He asked, tilting his head in this infuriatingly smug way.

“Yes, you can,” you replied, voice sharpening. “I do, however, think you are a bit salty, Lord Yang.”

Your brief boldness stirred something in his hollow gaze. Straightening to his height, Jungwon returned your haughty stare with a burning one of his own. “Salty? No, I just want to do my job, Lady Sim.” He leaned in slightly, making you tip your chin to follow his mirrored stubbornness. “You wound me.”

Before you could react to his vain words, he walked past like a shadow, leaving you there with your own breath caught in the web of your chest.

What an asshole.

── ⋮ ꒰ঌ ໒꒱ˎˊ˗ ✿

THE PARKS DID NOT HAVE GOOD NEWS.

“Lady Yunah threatened you?” Jungwon sighed, trying to decrypt what Lady Somin was doing. His fingers dug into the side of the armchair, anxiety brewing in small doses. Methodically, his index finger tapped the fancy fabric. “I thought it was a friendly talk?”

Somin sighed, sitting opposite Jungwon and his parents. “It was. But, you know how impulsive Jay is,” she explained with prickling guilt. It wasn’t good enough. He jeopardised a whole route Jungwon planned, and now, he had to craft another as if the week wasn’t busy enough.

“It sounded like an accusation, I have to admit,” she said, fiddling with her Reaper cuff snug on her wrist. She was here alone since Jongseong was still in the foreign land of fire and water, out for investigations.

Jungwon didn’t bother to focus on that. What he was focusing on was how the foundations of this murder case were already crumbling before he started.

Jiwon, beside him, tutted despite the softness brimming in her eyes. “Somin…”

“I know. They did not appreciate it, obviously, and denied having anything to do with it,” she explained, gaze dipping with worry.

“So, we have gotten nowhere,” Jihoon clarified, voice also flooded with exasperation, rubbing his one temple.

It was nothing. After a week of potential murder victims, the only scrap Jungwon collected was the short statement that added nothing to the bigger picture. He had dust in his case file. Nothing was coming together.

The talk went bad as well. Tensions were arising. Jungwon felt the proposition ghost over the room before anyone said it. His guts twisted.

“We still have the prophecy,” Somin reminded meekly.

There it was. Exhaling with denial bolted into his words, he spoke. “There must be other options other than diving straight into marriage?”

“Jungwon, what else can be done?” Somin interjected the way a mother would scold a child and harshly steer them in a direction. The sympathy was a feather in her gaze, and it reached his parents, tickling them into a contemplative silence.

He tensed, disbelief striking his spine into a straight pin.

“Mother, Father, you cannot be considering marriage—”

“Son…” Jihoon began in a tone that corroded the walls of his confidence. “It has almost been two weeks since the murders have arisen in the city, and there is not one lead. Most of the victims are dead, there are no witnesses, and CCTV were absent in all places.”

Jungwon’s refusal and panic intertwined into a tight noose as he saw the direction of this. They were agreeing with Somin and the drastic jump to such a resolution. Contempt pricked him like shards. They always had to let the Parks have a say in a decision and colour the bigger picture where Jungwon didn’t need them.

“What if you had a union with… Lady Sim, and unlocked an ability to help solve this?” Jihoon suggested, creeping into territory that had Jungwon clenching his jaw.

“It is a gamble, Father,” Jungwon interjected, exhaling another stream of trapped protests.

“I know that, Son. But what if it worked? It would not be so bad,” Jihoon remarked with a softness that was overridden by Jungwon’s flaming disagreement.

Jiwon softly touched Jungwon’s arm, rubbing encouragement into his elbow. Jungwon’s gaze dipped before he could burn his family to ashes.

“Even if the prophecy does not work, you are of age, Jungwon,” said Somin. Jungwon chained his curt gaze to the table rather than the Park sitting before him, trying to convince him that this was normal. “And those bodies can be stored in my husband’s freezer at the GRA mortuary.”

Jungwon nodded on the outside. On the inside, he wanted to die, but unfortunately for him, Grim Reapers held an inhuman strength that shielded them from Death.

“Won Bon, don’t be so upset. Lady Sim could introduce a whole new perspective to you. And I would get a daughter!” Jiwon assured, smiling gently. Jungwon stiffened at those words. Ice hammered into his ribs, making it harder to breathe as he shut his eyes in the silence. Until his sternum cleared, he swallowed hard as it passed.

Jungwon had a duty, and this was his next one.

—

YOU WERE RUNNING.

Running from your parents, that was.

Through the winding hospital halls and bewildered patients, you just about made it to the reception when your mother snagged your elbow. It sent you yelping as she hauled you to the counter. On your other arm, your father steadied you and didn’t let go. Both were breathing hard, disbelief staining their usual understanding.

“Sim Y/n! How dare you run from your own parents?!” She exclaimed, thoroughly out of breath as she placed a hand on her chest.

“It is not my fault when you are chasing me with an absurd proposal!” You frowned, shooting both of them an exasperated look. You tried to keep quiet, but your panic was clearly crossing the boundaries. “Of course, I am going to run!”

“The Yangs contacted us—”

“And?” You retorted sharply, tugging at your arms, but they were stuck. “You are listening to them over your own daughter?” You scoffed incredulously.

Both of your parents sighed in unison. Your mother was the one to huff. “You are worse than Jaeyun at listening.”

You gaped. “I am not—”

“The point is, Y/n, you are of age, the prophecy exists, and they sent us a proposal to meet,” your father interfered with your useless argument.

“Depending on a prophecy is a silly reason to wed. This is my life,” you bristled, voice dropping into deep lament, eyes desperate. It wasn’t fair that they were unleashing this on you.

Your mother released your arm with a sigh to tuck a strand behind your ear. “I know, my love, but you are the highest-ranking Soul Bearer of age. I would advise Jake, but…” Your mother trailed off, giving an uncertain sideways glance.

“He likes Heeseung?” You sulked.

“Yes, he’s hopeless.” Your father sighed. “He must have been bewitched—”

“Yoon Darling,” your mother chastised with a sideways glare. Your father nodded, but that thought was still clouding his mind.

“Just give it a chance. Meet him, see if there is something, and if there isn’t, then we’ll let it go,” she explained, doing nothing to convince you. The anxiety still lingered around your chest, prickling you with everything that could go wrong.

Then came the thought that you weren’t just a daughter anymore. You also had to act your part of the duty no matter how much you didn’t want to. It was just that marriage was a level up from where you were now.

There was nothing you could do. Not when your parents were still stringing along this expectation so you could follow. Well, if meeting Jungwon, who was too salty for his own good, was the solution, then you had to try.

── ⋮ ꒰ঌ ໒꒱ˎˊ˗ ✿

THE YANG ESTATE WAS TOO BIG.

It wasn’t anything you hadn’t seen before. Your own home was lavish and generous with its high ceilings and comfortable warm tones, but this was another level of luxury.

Jungwon’s home was different shades of golden and cream.

You and your family were sitting in a huge lounge with yellow patterned walls, with five floor-to-ceiling windows letting in the noon sunshine. The room was adorned with drawers and tables of delicate little knick-knacks that probably were touched once in their entire lifespan, and the camelback couch you were sitting on had pillows softer than a single feather.

You could feel it behind your back right now. Under your ivory dress with green embroidered leaves on the bodice, you marvelled at how soft everything was here. The dress you wore had fluttering sleeves that rippled down your legs, intricate lace details drawing attention to you like a cloud lone in a blue sky.

You didn’t want to wear something so… formal and extravagant, but your mother ignored you and paired emerald earrings with a long chain to the back of your half-tied hair. In summary, you felt overdressed for such a meeting.

Your mother was on your right, your father on your left, and Jaeyun was sitting alone on another couch.

Thinking it over now, you wondered how you ended up here. You weren’t great at talking to people. Your closest friends were Minju from your school life, and Heeseung, who had sunshine for a personality.

Heeseung would have beamed at you in this gown, and told you to go all in for the opportunity. He saw no wrongs in a situation, and found positivity in anything. Heeseung was as shy as you, so connecting was easier than with anyone else you had met. Other than the two of them, your own mind chained you away from socialising freely.

It was why, even now when Jungwon was imminent on entering the same space, you felt the steel anxiety drill into your joints, making it momentarily hard to move. You tried to sit straight. Then, you kept your eyes ahead and then dropped the strings when it felt too real like this.

“You look like you are about to shit yourself—”

Your mother glared at Jaeyun. “Language.”

“I was just saying.” He sheepishly smiled, fluffy hair already disobeying the earlier hair brushing. He was as serious as a marshmallow. You couldn’t find comfort from him.

In the posh peace of this lounge, it hit you like thunder that you were about to meet with Death himself. You almost flinched back to reality.

The door handle jostled and opened at the thunder in your back. Entering was Lady Jiwon in a navy gown, Lord Yang Jihyun in a matching blue suit, and the main root of all your anxiety.

Jungwon wore pure charcoal with shimmering grey swirls woven into his blazer, with a fitted waist jacket that had a chain dangling delicately from the small breast pocket. A black tie nestled at the base of his honey throat, accentuating his stupidly broad shoulders.

It was his eyes beneath wavy hair that forced a memory of your first encounter into vision.

They were so dark, sitting like obsidian atop your face, like he wanted to carve the judgement into your skin. You had absolutely no idea what he was feeling in the void behind his irises.

His mother, you recognised as Lady Jiwon from surface-level research, approached with the most pearliest smile.

“I am so delighted everyone made it,” she exclaimed happily. Much more joyous than Jungwon. She brought Lord Yang forward, hands interlocked. “My husband, Jihoon.”

Jihoon bowed his head a little, smiling with a dimple. Did Jungwon have a dimple? “Pleasure to meet everyone.”

“We are honoured,” said your father, getting up to shake Jihoon’s hand firmly before sitting. “I am Yoon. My wife here is Mei, and Jaeyun is our elder son.”

A fluffy smile slipped past Jaeyun’s lips like instinct.

Then, Jiwon brought Jungwon forward with a small, frantic wave of her hand. Obliging to her, he slowly walked forward and bowed his head in greeting.

“Nice to meet everyone,” he murmured with a voice gripping onto control.

At your time to stand, Jiwon’s eyes sparked into fireworks as she smiled. She took your hands, thumbing over your knuckles. “You must be Lady Sim Y/n, the one my Son met in court. You are such a beauty!”

Warmth hit your cheeks. Jihoon smiled. Jungwon, on the other hand, looked like he was verifying that last bit when his eyes dragged slowly over your features.

“Thank you.”

Everyone sat down in their designated space, waiting as maids brought tea in expensive, untouchable ceramics and pastries made for display. You hadn’t moved an inch, focused on itching the anxiety out of your thumb.

You were too focused on whether you were sitting straight or slouching. Or if Jungwon was waiting for you to do that. His gaze was practically carved into your face.

Jaeyun sent a discreet smile behind his teacup, wiggling his brows that conjured a violent wave in you from his deceptive facade.

“As you know, there has been an influx of murders around the borders,” Jihoon began after a sip, dampening the atmosphere.

“Yes, Y/n told us some of it,” Yoon said, his tone dissipating from that initial joy. Silence from your end as your gaze stayed locked on the table.

Jungwon sensed the hitch in your heartbeat. It was a constantly rapid pace ever since you got here. The meeting was well past brief impressions, so he knew it wasn’t targeted at that. No. This pace had been troubling you for a while. Jungwon narrowed his investigative gaze as he sipped his tea.

In your place, your mother cleared her throat. “And, when we got the proposal, we were all…” she gave a subtle sideways glance at your sulky, lowered eyes, “… very pleased.”

Jiwon grinned. “I am glad. Won Bon—”

“Mother,” Jungwon grumbled, making Jiwon smile sheepishly. You caught the distaste when you briefly met eyes. Sheepishly, she smiled in a way that smoothed the anxious knots in your spine.

“My Jungwon is so work-oriented. It took a while to convince him,” she said gently, ignoring Jungwon’s shrivelling nonchalance. Pink dusted his cheeks in a way that almost made him look… shy. You wanted to question how someone like him could do that.

“Oh, we had to chase our daughter down,” Yoon added impishly. The room erupted in small laughter as you stiffened at the memory. Jungwon, from the other side of the couch, slowly raised a brow, trying to imagine you running away. Warmth drowned your cheeks again as his gaze dragged over your face with flames.

You turned back to your tea.

“Jungwon is just as stubborn. When he lost the court case—”

Jungwon straightened, gaze whipping to his father. “The Prophecy… please.”

Jihoon smiled, expecting it. “Right. We proposed this because of the well-known prophecy. Currently, there are no leads, no evidence indicating a clear direction. We hoped unlocking the ability would possibly help solve it all,” Jihoon explained, too serious for the denial homed in your head.

“Even if the ability doesn’t help the murder cases, it is still special if it is known to us,” Jiwon added with a signature smile.

None of this made sense to you. The protests were already burning your tongue, observing how they must have already made their decisions. It was unfair. However, you had to people-please everyone.

Delivering what they expected of you to gain a shred of validation. Working in the hospital as a Soul Bearer and handling the delicate packages of life meant no mistakes. The fragile version of yourself you crafted for them was nothing without being right. Soul Bearing made it clear that it shouldn’t even be a scenario in your head.

The conversation droned on about union possibility, about working together, and new perspectives. Each one had you holding your voice as fate was strategised in front of you. Jungwon was silent as you were, his hand flexing momentarily because the whole thing strengthened his sense of duty again.

One more level for both you and him.

“We shall let you two converse,” Mei said, squeezing your shoulder softly in encouragement. You felt anything but that.

Jihoon sent a look to Jungwon that said to “be kind”, and then was the one to close you and him into the lounge.

The door clicked shut. Silence hung between you since it was much more comforting than to confront whatever was going to happen in the near future.

Discomfort invaded your nerves and forced you to trace the neatly-cut portraits and sunlight peeking through the fluttering curtains. He was still probing your face from afar.

“Do you like summer?” Jungwon asked in a low voice, following your gaze to his sunny windows. He leaned back, a leg crossed over the other, a head tilted with increasing interest.

“I think so. However, I do not like it for so long.” You glanced away from the intense void sitting in his eyes. He raised an inquisitive brow.

“Strange words,” he commented dryly.

“Meaning?” You returned, gaze narrowing.

“Meaning what do you like then?” Jungwon crossed his arms, capturing your eyes within one second. A skip flashed through your heart at his attention.

You glanced at the glass windows once more. “Every season, but not for a long period. Except Spring. It rains too much.”

Jungwon’s lips twitched in amusement at your absurdity, but he remembered he wasn’t supposed to be laughing at you like a comrade. He was still petty over the lost trial, and that alone smoothed his emotions straight.

“I like Spring,” he stated, blinking in a way that was far too serious. “I like the rain.”

Your smirk was subtle and swift. “Of course you do.”

“What do you mean by that?” Jungwon now remarked quietly, his small glare carving into you.

“Spring rain never goes away. Like your grudges, Lord Yang,” you answered, letting go of decorum now. His face fell, nonchalance unravelling right before your eyes as he leaned forward, as if he could physically dig into your mind.

“The Spring rain is a transitional period where the blooms are born after a hard winter.” Jungwon steepled his fingers.

“How poetic.” You cracked the smallest, incredulous smile before reality pulled at your chest once more. This wasn’t some enjoyable meeting with Death. It was a negotiation for marriage.

You hesitantly met his eyes. The hostility wasn’t as present anymore, but there was still a boundary stopping you from seeing his emotions on the other side. He was staring too. There was no hiding about it.

“How are we supposed to fulfil something almost imaginary?” You asked quietly, fingers digging into your lap.

“I don’t know,” he replied after a few quiet seconds. It was a gamble, and he knew you knew it too. Some common ground there.

“Then, what does it entail? To… make this prophecy true?” You asked carefully. Your parents never told you in full how one connected to it. All you knew was that a wand and scythe were needed for it.

His gaze wandered a little before landing on you like he was trying to creep into the territory without scaring you. “My parents have said it a few times…” He got to his feet, cautiously approaching with a generous slowness. “We need to let the wand and scythe touch, and they say you fall into a ‘trance’…” he stopped for a contemplative second, searching.

You spared a look at his shadowy cuff that shone. “Or?”

“Some say in bed,” he stated casually.

“What?” You exclaimed with pinched brows.

He shut his eyes regretfully before opening them. “Not like that. I mean, in a sleep state in bed. You know how sleep works, right?”

“When we sleep, our souls are detached from the body.” You nodded.

“That means, outside the body, our souls can interact. That is one of the ways.” He watched as you stood and began to saunter to the big windows. Following, he scanned the curve of your waist, how your hair draped flawlessly behind your back, and the delicate jewel sat in the sea of your strands.

He strolled along until he lingered behind you.

You realised how stupidly tall he was. “What happens when you… take a soul for death?”

Jungwon was surprised at your interest, considering you wanted to burn holes into his head the other day, but he looked past your face and to the florals bobbing by in the wind outside.

“When I’m delivering them to death, I go to this specific place. Death Meadow is what I call it. Dark, vast—a field, and it’s where Reapers go,” Jungwon replied, recalling the dim skies and the long grass brushing his knees.

You frowned. “Is that all it looks like?”

“Did you expect a castle?” He mused, his deep voice rippling down your spine.

“A field is hardly exciting,” you mumbled, crossing your arms almost in defence. He chuckled curtly.

“Death is hardly exciting,” he said back quietly. Your profile exposed the curve of your nose, or your lips, which, he had to admit, complemented your… facial harmony.

“I know,” you muttered back, sighing. After a few terse seconds, you rolled out your right hand, letting the bracelet morph into the signature wand. “We should try, shouldn’t we?”

Jungwon’s chest swelled with the anticipation of it. If there was something, though he didn’t know what, then a marriage was inevitable. A wedding. A life with you. The person he had nearly cursed out loud sixteen days ago. Thinking back to it, maybe he was overreacting, but then the thought crumbled as his ego ached.

You watched his face shift with thoughts, probably knowing how real this all was. The finality hammered through your chest until breathing felt tiring. This was it. And there was only one way to find out.

Wordlessly, you inched the wand forward towards his scythe, ignoring the apprehension twisting violently in your guts.

You shared a look that he mirrored: this would seal their fates into one path.

The scythe touched first. Blade met gem, and instantly, a heavy wave rippled from your chest to the base of your spine, activating some other part within you had no experience with. It thrummed in your ears and smoked the space behind your eyes. Bewildered, you glanced at Jungwon and froze when his irises glowed.

No void. His eyes had a corona of something white that haunted his now brown irises. He looked personal. Human. Normal.

Jungwon’s breath hitched as blue slithered and lit your own eyes homed the mist that felt as if they had always been there in the shadows. Inside, his body rattled like fabric shifting over one another, creating friction and warmth that was too energetic to handle.

You departed first, wand clutched to your chest with ferocity. Jungwon’s scythe fell back into a cuff, catching his curt breath that escaped his control. The silence was a sentence on both you and him before Jungwon sighed.

“You felt that, did you not?” He asked, eyes averted.

You nodded once. “Yes.” Your tone was eroded by anxiety.

“And you know what that means?” He glanced at you again, where acceptance was absent from your stance. Your shoulders were stiff when you tentatively returned his gaze, which was a void once more. “My parents shall talk to yours. For a union.”

He turned, ready to walk out, but your uncertainty followed after him a few steps. “Do you want to get married?” You couldn’t help it. This whole thing had to be turning his axis too.

That made him stop, shoulders shifting beneath like he was preparing a practised answer. It was a second late. A second of hesitance you spotted in yourself. You thought he would be real for a second, but he straightened like a stone wall again.

“I don’t have to want to. I need to,” he answered in a resolved tone before continuing his stride towards the closed doors. His heart protested in angry stomps, which he ignored.

You felt it, however. His worth anchored his shoulders, fragile as it was huge on him. It curled, a monster he efficiently tucked away.

That was enough to tell you he wasn’t going to back out.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━˚₊‧꒰ა ♡ ໒꒱‧₊˚━━━━━━━━━━━━━

── .✦ [NOTES]: okay, did yall like this? You can tell I gave up in the end with proof reading this. Also, I am on holiday, but I had no wifi for a bit, and now I do. So, I haven't written anything LMFAO. But, even then, I hope you guys liked this! <3

ᯓ [DREAM LIBRARY] °❀⋆.ೃ ᐟ.ᐟ

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⊹₊꒷︶꒷꒦‧₊˚⊹︰꒷

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ᴛᴀɢʟɪꜱᴛ : @soyyiiu @won1yoiz @yangbreads @t-rex-12 @itsstarynights @jungwonisme @kjunebuggie @stealerrrrsstuff @ughsoannoying @melancholatte @zino-yoon @xozerose @orngejuic-io

The last thing he wanted to do was debate whether he could do his job of taking a soul. His whole life revolved around knowing when a body was ready for death, not for battling it. Jungwon could read a fading heartbeat when close, so getting a court case was an insult to his work.

In the case, a middle-aged man had a terrible accident and sustained injuries all over, enough for him to fall into the fragile hands of a coma. Six months was the monitoring period for a body to be observed, but after that? Grim Reapers would get involved.

Jungwon had his head straight and was happy to take the soul and gain a rank. But then, a dispute had landed in his office, infuriatingly so.

An abominable dispute challenged his objective. It meant having to go to court and contest whether to pull life support or keep the man steady in sleep.

It dampened his whole week.

Even now, as he left behind the crowd cursing him out at the front, Jungwon strolled by the court walls like it was his crafted path, knowing exactly where to go. The public meant nothing to him because, to them, he was a heartless monster that fed off people’s souls.

Of course, Jungwon didn’t feed off souls. He had no care for who he took and what happened once he closed the doors, so he really felt all those insults bounce off his back.

He trained for that. Every acidic remark thrown, he learned to wash it off before it could ever burn. He had to. When being the heir to taking over the GRA, it was key to tune out everyone’s useless opinions and go with his gut. And his gut was where his duty was shaped.

His father, Yang Jihoon, taught him that. He ingrained it in Jungwon’s head. And he was supposed to be here.

The hallway was filled with several court officials talking among clients, but none were his father. Despite the push to learn punctuality, his father never practised it.

Whatever. Jungwon sauntered to his assigned courtroom and pushed the doors open to the grand, brown interior.

There was a raised platform at the front for the judge, two long tables parallel to each other from opposite sides of the room, and the lower gallery consisted of seats arranged in rows until it hit the main door. The upper panel had glass windows to accommodate more secretive observers.

It wasn’t empty. Among the lower gallery, a woman who matched the victim’s age sat with her shoulders hunched, eyes cloudy with grief. She looked as if she was curling into a seated, dejected ball. Beside her was an elderly couple, whom he only assumed to be the parents. In a mirroring figure, they leaned on each other, frowns anchored with apprehension.

Jungwon paid them no mind as he sat down, finally setting his eyes on who dared to dispute his claim. Except he paused the stream of thoughts when he saw you.

You sat with perfectly aligned shoulders controlled beneath the smoothest white shirt he had ever seen. Those were tucked into the baby blue skirt reaching the top of your knees. The pleats looked strictly ironed and straight. And he almost scoffed at the white stockings with matching pale blue bows delicately atop your knees like you were pulling attention in the little ways. Your shoes weren’t dramatic. They were reserved flats that probably swallowed sounds before they made one.

You didn’t stop writing. Your pen flew across the paper, writing some nonsense, he imagined, and didn’t take a break. Not even to look at him.

Jungwon slowly frowned a fraction, his own index finger tapping the table methodically as he processed the strict line of your lips and how your eyes simply followed the flow of the ink. It felt unnerving. So, he tapped into your heartbeat.

Easygoing pace with a slight hitch, as if it knew it was being spied on. Jungwon couldn’t spot the nervousness on your face if that was what your heart was translating. It confused him, so he glanced to where your right hand was adorned with a spiral of gems coloured baby blue and pink before it shaped a heart, and extended into rings that hugged each finger.

Jungwon tilted his head. On his own fidgeting hand, there was a metal cuff, running with black runes beneath that spoke of the deaths it aided. His own cuff grew out, extended into rings for each finger. It was where his scythe stayed when he didn’t want it present. It gravely helped with walking around in public without conjuring fear.

The only difference between him and you was that you were a Soul Bearer.

The exact opposite to who he was.

Instead of taking life, they delivered them; instead of scanning heartbeats, they sensed emotion through the ripple and weight of energy; they also boosted souls and encouraged them back into bodies, bringing colour to cheeks again.

Jungwon loathed them because they brought him here. To this arid courtroom where it reeked of tears and bad news.

It didn’t disturb you in the slightest. Uninterrupted, you kept scribing whatever nonsense, possibly breaking down whatever hurdle he was about to chuck your way. As if you knew.

How stupid.

Jungwon halted the finger tapping and opened his laptop, beginning to open his notes and read them with burning eyes. This particular time, he felt like he was going to have to recite everything verbatim to break through that stoic shield of yours.

Eventually, court officials lined the benches, had their notepads out, and the writers were organised. The judge had her glasses on, making everyone rise before it all commenced.

A flicker brewed in Jungwon’s nerves, making his fingers dance again. Cooling it down, he stood and walked around to present his argument. Only then did you meet his gaze.

Oh, you had this stupidly sweet gaze, scanning him so thoroughly as if he was a dream all in your head. But his feline eyes were heavy with his own judgement as it carved into your skin, taking in your features for memory. Finally, you surrendered back to rewriting the ink on your paper.

Jungwon refrained from a smug smirk and faced the judge instead of the grieving family. He learned the hard way that facing the gallery earned a strong tide of glares as a Grim Reaper.

“I will repeat the rule for everyone that the hospital has set forth,” Jungwon said, not bothering to face you, who probably knew this fact already. “The hospital has a six-month period where the patient is monitored while comatose. After that, Grim Reapers are allowed to take the soul once it reaches six months.”

Someone sniffled in the room, and pens scribbled on paper.

“Under the Grim Reaper’s Association, I argue that keeping him in the hospital will not benefit him any further.” He cast a final look at the judge. The heartbeats around him practically hammered with disagreement and hidden insults, but Jungwon sat back down and let his words sink in.

Logical and curt. His very way of working.

The counterargument started with you. The flats made no sound, gaze drifting to the crowd rather than to him. A tactic he found didn’t work in his favour. For you, however, the elderly couple and wife had a sparkle in their teary eyes. In your hand was a pen, thumb repeatedly rubbing the lid to occupy your nervous tick.

Your heartbeat, he found, was still being restrained with great effort.

“Mr Kim suffered several injuries in the car accident,” you began, the cadence of your voice reserved, a practised path with no gaps between. “However, over the months, he has displayed great improvement. His wounds are healing, and his vitals are stable.”

Repeating the case—also another strategy you put forth to remind everyone why you weren’t the ‘bad’ one here.

“His soul, as Reapers and Bearers can see, is still connected to him. Keeping him alive is a perfect opportunity to encourage his soul to return to the body. We have a specialised ward for it, which my family primarily work in,” you explained, growing more firm. Then, you finally hooked your attention on him, your thumb now harshly digging into the ridge of the pen lid.

His gaze was obsidian and endless, and staring would only lose your train of thought. Apart from his subtle frown, you squared your shoulders a little and faced the contempt sewn into his brows.

“I agree that six months is the observational period; however, with Mr Kim’s improvement, he can gain a sense of his soul again. It is the last step,” you said, trying very hard to stay on his gaze. It was like a black flame that you had never seen before, but you were too afraid to explore.

Jungwon didn’t move to make a note. He was too busy dealing with your hidden audacity to spell this case out for him with baby steps. He understood all of this, of course, but keeping a corpse in a ward was hardly productive. The thought was cruel and strict, but he knew nothing other than that.

“For patients that do not improve, it is another situation entirely. For Mr Kim, it is a chance. And, I think his family would be pleased that this last step is the one to take, and the one that could break his coma.” You finally swerved gazes to the judge, smiling a little before sitting down.

Jungwon felt like your argument wasn’t even much. It was a few sentences bedazzled with empathy before being given to the gallery and court officials to write.

His heart began to drum with animosity. It was a speed he couldn’t chain back, and it ran against his ribs. Not because you were better, but because he felt as if everyone else was going to side with you. There was no jury, but he had a gut feeling that wrapped ivy around his spine.

No. He shoved that whole feeling beneath soil and mentally stomped on it. You were just a glorified empath.

As the minutes ticked on, you and Jungwon were heaving arguments back and forth. You, however, had thorns gradually growing in your tone. Each piece he gave, you returned it with another sharp counterattack, and you were growing sulky, even. He had focused too much on the sunken brows that aided your frustration with him, and the way you met his gaze head-on with a crash when talking back to him.

That initial restrained heartbeat was slower now, but burned strong with annoyance.

“If he wanted to come back to his body, his soul would’ve returned and awakened him.”

“A wound does not heal so easily either.”

“There are no specific steps to bring a soul back except by healing. And there is no guarantee there either.” Jungwon’s gaze narrowed.

“Lord Yang, what benefit does taking a soul away do other than giving you an increase of rank?” You glared at him, all soft fury with a tone that skidded against his ears. Your heartbeat fluttered, sinking once more with the light downturn of your lip.

Jungwon had his comment ready. Leaning forward with those feline eyes full of hollow understanding, he spoke.

“Lady Sim, I would love to give a lecture on my job and how it helps our nation, but the hour is coming to an end. All I have to say is that I abide by the rules given.” He sat back with his relaxed, intertwined fingers on his lap, smug. “That is the strongest argument one can give.”

That last comment forced you to avert your burning eyes to the ink on the page, recalling the calm strokes you had written before getting all worked up.

Recess arrived shortly after that. It was a thirty-minute period that allowed Jungwon to sit in a room with bare, cream walls, a few couches, and a huge window broadcasting bobbing flowers and a trickling fountain in silence.

All too idyllic for such a place adopting stress, he thought.

The door opened behind the armchair he rested on.

“Son!” His father’s voice flinched him from the calm petals.

“Father.” Jungwon nodded. Jihoon was slightly taller and wore the routine blue blazer and pants with a jolly stroke of colour on his face. His features were a frame for innate joy and twin dimples.

“Soul Bearer case?” Jihoon asked, sitting down opposite Jungwon.

To that, he nodded, the initial exasperation filling his head with aggravating smoke. “A waste of time, really?”

“She’s just doing her job, Son.”

“Taking up hospital beds with corpses is not productive in any sense,” Jungwon corrected, flexing his cuffed hand as if he could imagine his scythe’s hunger for a soul. Calming that pang into a gentle ache, Jungwon sighed, staring once more at the silent nature outside.

“Don’t be envious, Won. It is not a good sight on you.”

“I always look like this.” Jungwon raised a bitter brow.

“Exactly.” Jihoon raised his brows in return, making Jungwon realise that his parental figure was not so serious about this. Jungwon wished he could be as loose, but that was all before when expectations weren’t premature, and when duty had a schedule.

“I was watching,” Jihoon added impishly.

“You did?” Jungwon inquired. That didn’t help alleviate the pressure to win.

“Of course. I wouldn’t miss it,” he replied, face turning a little brave as he spared a glance at Jungwon. “And, I must say, she is quite a match—”

“Father,” Jungwon said with a deep, contemptuous sigh. “Not this again.”

Jihoon pursed his lips, trying very hard to choose his words without it blowing a fuse in the process. “I never said anything about the prophecy.”

“You were thinking it,” Jungwon exclaimed, gesturing wildly with a single hand. “You made that face.”

“I did not.”

“You did. You did that stupid thing with your lips,” Jungwon pointed out, eyes shiny with pins of refusal. Jihoon broke into a sigh.

“Can you blame me? You are the heir to the highest-ranking Death Lineage, and Lady Sim Y/n happens to be the highest-ranking Soul Bearer,” Jihoon explained, voice lowering from that joy to something stern. “I did my research in the session.”

Jungwon wasn’t having it as his cuffed hand flexed into a fist, determined to cling to his refusal. “You are depending on a centuries-long prophecy that has barely come to fruition. What makes you think it is me and… her?”

“You two are alike,” Jihoon countered.

“We absolutely are not!” Jungwon argued, suddenly on his feet. It was probably getting late. Desperate to escape his dad, he glanced at the clock and walked with relief when he noticed that recess was coming to an end. He yanked the door open.

“I need to go, Father. The Judge would have declared a verdict now.”

“I will come with you,” his father said, already on his feet and out the door before Jungwon could blink.

As Jungwon watched his jolly father walk further away, he prayed that he would win.

── ⋮ ꒰ঌ ໒꒱ˎˊ˗ ✿

JUNGWON LOST.

The Judge kept going with his announcement. Jungwon was sure he hadn’t heard it right, but then he glanced at the family cooped in the one row flooded with relief. They had burst to their feet, rushed to the barrier, and began to thank you profusely.

A heavy denial wedged in between his ribs and stayed like a sore thumb. However, he had the habit of watching.

You smiled gently at the family, shaking their hands. Underneath, your heartbeat was a swift flutter of disbelief and happiness all at once. It began to soar while Jungwon’s heart found the common, raging rhythm, bumping with that wedge of incredulity that the verdict stabbed him with.

You dipped your head to the family, barely glanced at Jungwon, and then smiled at the Judge. As quick as that, you slipped through the staff door, disappearing like smoke after setting his whole mind on fire.

What just happened?

Jungwon hadn’t failed ever since his first trial. And that was when he was of age—eighteen. Back then, he had been under the brunt of every learned rule, every cold emotion at his first trial. Ultimately, the lack of balance had tipped him off the scale, making his delivery messy.

He had learned from that. The mistakes were studied, then erased from history because he didn’t lose one after that. Some trials consisted of investigations rather than tangling with the public’s hearts. Regardless, he had a vow.

He never lost.

Now, it was unravelling because of you. A crack in the canvas.

Jungwon stormed into the hallway, pins pricking his spine that made him want to swallow a cigarette so he could numb his blood. His father appeared by his side, matching his furious pace.

They reached the glass exit to the sprightly city where, beyond the tree line, the city bustled under a clear, blue sky. People wandered in or out of the courthouse, navigating their own proficient jobs and lives.

Jihoon stopped Jungwon from abusing any more of the floor by hooking a gentle hand on his shoulder. “You are taking this too harshly.”

Jungwon loathed that tone. It was bubble wrap for delicate situations, but Jungwon was not that. He preferred it if his father told him off for losing. He needed that lash of discipline.

“It’s not a success, is it?” Jungwon asked, sardonic as he met his father’s searching gaze.

“It was not totally useless,” Jihoon said, resigned. Jungwon glared at his father’s gabble.

“You are hopeless. This prophecy—”

“Are you saying it is fake?” Jihoon raised a brow.

Jungwon stayed silent, his jaw clenching gradually, teetering between telling his father off or being respectful. Then, he thinned his lips, glancing outwards again.

“I didn’t say that.”

The prophecy his father was infatuated with was made by a man centuries ago, claiming that two opposites would unite. Specifically, it was Life and Death. And when they did have a union, it would unlock a secret ability.

What that ability was—nobody knew.

So, it was a dangerous gamble.

“I just think that being too optimistic about something so old will do no good. Save those prayers for useful things. It could have been for my trial, but that did not come true,” Jungwon said, tilting his head with knives glinting in his eyes.

Then, before his father could stop him, Jungwon descended the stairs to where his car pulled up. Black and sleek with tinted windows when the sun was too much.

“You never know!” Jihoon said, chasing after him.

Jungwon entered the car and closed it in his father’s face.

── ⋮ ꒰ঌ ໒꒱ˎˊ˗ ✿

“A little birdie told me you won against Death himself.”

Your brother, Jaeyun, was following around with sparkles for eyes, fluffy hair, and a bright smile. However, you had no time for him right now.

Currently, you were working a shift in the Healer’s ward of the hospital, holding your tablet at the reception counter. It was fairly quiet for now, but you knew someone was bound for an emergency, and you needed your mind set before it happened. It was a trait grown through months of doing this profession.

Jaeyun wasn’t helping when he was constantly reminding you of that court trial. It was such a dream. Sure, you had delivered a stitched explanation, but beneath the mask, you were made of loose seams and tattered explanations. Usually, doing court trials didn’t bring erratic nerves, but Yang Jungwon was a star in the universe of court trials. So, finding out you were against him had forced all your thoughts to be shot clean.

“Don’t ignore me, Y/nie,” he said, leaning on the counter next to your tablet.

“Who was your birdie?” You asked, sparing a swift glance, but scrolling harder on the screen, barely reading the words.

“My husband,” Jaeyun answered with a pearly smile.

That halted your scrolling, shooting a bewildered gaze at your brother. “Please stop calling Heeseung that.”

Jake grinned, adjusting his glasses. “Nope! Heeseung is my friend, brother, and husband—”

Your brows sank with a thousand confused questions. “Brother and husband?”

“Trust me. Heeseung wouldn’t even mind,” Jake affirmed before his gaze was over your shoulder, eyes lighting up with recognition.

Heeseung had burgundy hair flopping around his sweet, doe-brown eyes where starry thoughts were born. He wore the same, neutral uniform, white and baby blue, and his wand, which had been in his hand, began to crumble into a magic mist and slither back into a cuff atop his wrist. He leaned on the same counter your crisis was short-circuiting.

“I heard my name,” Heeseung said, leaning beside you. You frowned.

“You told Jake about my trial? You were there?” You asked sulkily.

“I was actually in the upper panel. I told them I was a past client that felt too grateful to skip a trial,” Heeseung said proudly, brows raising. Jake was easily impressed, but you scoffed, nudging Heeseung with a soft palm.

“You could have told them you were my friend?”

“I like the back story—the flair it gives me,” he replied, chuckling. Both men laughed at either side of you. It was disgustingly romantic.

“Fine. I battled Lord Yang,” you began quietly, remembering the dips of anxiety you had fallen into through the court session.

“You make it sound like he tried to take you out with his scythe,” Jake mused, impish.

“It felt like it,” you shot back, nudging Jake away as he grinned like a daisy.

“You actually did really well. I couldn’t tell you wanted to die,” Heeseung commented casually. He recalled the sediments of control fueled into your straight posture, the tone of metal certainty, and your perfect reasoning. It was a win, he thought.

While you could tick the good points of the whole thing, Jungwon’s midnight glare distanced you the whole time. In fact, you were glad your skin was still intact after the whole thing. Mainly because you had lost the anxious edge in the last quarter of that argument. The rage shielded it.

Getting that exact verdict had switched the apprehension back on. You had never packed so quickly in your life.

“I never want to do that again. Nor meet him,” you admitted, rubbing the side of your head to erode the memory.

Heeseung made a sound of disagreement, crossing his arms like he just pulled a memory back into vision. You and Jake both glanced hastily.

“What?” You said, a twinge of horror twisting in your voice.

“Senior Lord Yang, his dad, by the way, was sitting across me in the upper panel. And he kept looking at you, Y/n,” Heeseung explained, eyebrows wiggling suggestively with a goofy grin.

This was going somewhere awful already. “So?”

“Don’t you know who Dada Yang is?” Heeseung asked, brows furrowed in a sudden second.

“Don’t call him that, Seung.” You grimaced.

Jake completely ignored you. “Dada Yang is the top Lord of Death. Lord Jungwon is his only heir as of now. And he is of age.” He glanced at your increasingly gloomy face. “Lord Yang Jungwon is twenty-two.”

“And you are twenty-one,” Heeseung said like clockwork. This just went downhill easily.

Their talk made your smile stiff, the appreciation for their stupid facts dying on the spot. “Guys—”

“You could be the one—” Jake tried to say.

You slammed a tempered hand on the counter, flinching both Jake and Heeseung out of their seesaw of a conversation. Both turned with bewildered gazes, clearly lacking your perspective. You straightened with locked shoulders and exasperated brows.

“No. I am not the ‘one’, okay?” You began quietly. “Quoting something so old and ridiculous is out of the question. You sound like our parents,” you chastised Jake, picking up your tablet.

It completely flew over Jake’s head. “Y/n, you can’t deny that this could be real. We deliver souls to pregnant women with wands. I don’t think anything is too ‘ridiculous’.”

“How many times have Soul Bearers and Grim Reapers tried to come together, only for the lineages never to come to fruition?” You asked them, tablet held with paling knuckles. When you received silence, you resolutely continued. “Right. There has not been any circumstance like that. Because of that, there was never a successful union.”

Heeseung and Jake stayed silent, slowly deflating from their sky-high ideas. Mischief, however, danced in Jake’s eyes as he leaned on the counter. You sulked.

“You never know!”

“Jake!”

He put his hands up in surrender. “I’m saying the truth!”

── ⋮ ꒰ঌ ໒꒱ˎˊ˗ ✿

THE PARKS WERE A CONSTANT PRESENCE IN JUNGWON’S MANOR.

Specifically, Park Jongseong, who was witty and goal-oriented; those qualities clashed with his premature trigger that would act before he fully thought.

With him were his parents. Lady Somin and Lord Sehyun were a constant force existing throughout his life. For as long as Jungwon could remember, the Parks were a second set of parents from another tree. They were so closely entwined with the Yangs that they lived only yonder from the Yang Manor, separated simply by a cobblestone path.

Today, everyone gathered for tea in the Yang garden. It was behind the glorious manor that stood like a palace, underneath a cream marquee where manicured foliage was shaped up pillars, and where petals learned to keep off the path.

There was no use in these mundane tea moments. So, he was looking through some documentation on his tablet, still boiling from the court case from a week ago. He hadn’t seen you again, and hoped it would stay like that.

The tablet was suddenly snatched out of his arms. Jungwon jumped momentarily before snapping his eyes up, only to soften when he saw his beamy mother.

“Won Bon, you know there is no work talk at tea time,” she chastised gently, her voice the weight of petals. She faced the tablet down on the table.

Lady Jiwon, his kind and sensitive mother, was someone he couldn’t defy.

“Sorry, Mother,” he murmured. Jiwon smiled a sweet thing before sitting next to him. He could never get anything past her these days. Not even work.

Tea time was a sacred time where family bonded. It was her routine to gather everyone around this white-clothed table and talk about the most recent treasures of their lives. But the treasures were boring life events.

The glass doors to the garden opened, revealing Jihoon talking to the Parks with troubled voices.

Lord Sehyun wore something casual and meaningful, with his clean shirt and pants; Lady Somin wore her smooth gown with pin-straight black hair; Jongseong’s hair was loose, wearing all black, like Jungwon.

“Somin, was my husband keeping you late again?” Jiwon doted sweetly with a pearly smile.

Somin scoffed, subtly jabbing a thumb in her husband’s direction. “It is not all yours. My husband and Son are the same. They talk about work everywhere.”

“Just like Won Bon!” Jiwon exclaimed, nodding at Jungwon. The nickname was embarrassing despite being a source of warmth. He never told her off for it anymore. The last time he told her not to, she did it again in the next breath.

He acknowledged the Parks with a casual, murmured greeting. Then, everyone sat down in their designated spaces, letting maids pour beverages into ceramics before being left alone. His father’s frantic heartbeat was chasing something unknown, too panicked to be about something unserious. The tension tangled his father’s brows, and Jungwon couldn’t quite figure it out.

“What happened?” Jungwon asked first.

Jongseong quirked a half-impressed smile. “As diligent as ever.” He leaned in, some of that amusement draining away. “There have been bodies found near the border. And, I’m seeing a pattern.”

There had been a few souls he himself picked up before the GRA collected the body, but all that was on his confiscated tablet. From memory, the people that died had done so in freak accidents: a crushed skull here, an impaled body somewhere else, and all away from the heart of the city to where rurality made most of the location.

“I remember recording such,” Jungwon said, lifting his gaze thoughtfully. “I thought they had normal causes, non-suspicious, that is.”

“I know.” Jongseong hummed. “But all of them are near the borders. Suicide, accidents—but they all died near the same place.”

Good observation. The only detail was: where was Jongseong leading with this?

“What are you suggesting? Murder?” Jungwon asked, incredulous almost.

“It’s what the evidence dictates,” Jongseong affirmed, tension slithering into his brows. Another detail stabbed Jungwon out of the ludicrous conclusion.

Most of the people who died had nothing special to their name. They were people who barely belonged to a magical Lineage—were normal workers. They weren’t from the top of the economy or society.

“Those who died had completely normal lives. Who would want to murder them?” Jungwon let the question break the ‘no-work’ talk and displease his mother. She had gone quiet, but distaste radiated out of her tightly crossed arms.

“If it is murder, we need to investigate,” Jihoon said, tone dipping with worry.

Jongseong’s eyes gleamed with an idea. “I could ask the foreign bordering land,” he suggested. Jungwon hadn’t even processed it before Somin was nodding enthusiastically.

“That is smart. I have researcher friends on the other side. Fire Lineages,” she said, laying down the plan. “I have been meeting them a lot. They would happily house you, Jongie.”

Jungwon had one tiny protest. That proposition was based on no leads, motive, or even victims, as dark as it sounded. It was crossing a road blind for an inevitable car crash before the investigation even began.

“Before that,” Jungwon interrupted the Parks’ shared epiphany, “we need to check the areas and find clues. If it is a cause for concern, we can get the court involved—”

“Speaking of court,” Jongseong said, whipping his eyes towards Jungwon with mischief. He leaned forward, grinning in a way that made Jungwon rub his one temple. “You lost it against Soul Bearer Lady Sim!”

There it was. Jungwon exhaled something close to snapping as the Parks practically leaned over their spaces, gasping with too much curiosity for their own good. The avalanche of questions hit him instantly.

“I have heard of Lady Sim,” said Sehyun.

“She was impressive against our Jungwon,” his father rejoiced with celebration.

“Won Bon did well,” his mother chimed with glittering praise.

“Someone as powerful as her matches—” Jay had tried to say before Jungwon abruptly stood, eyes of oblivion icing each of their excited interjections into a stunned silence. Then, he slowly exhaled again.

“We are not going to talk about the prophecy.” Jungwon stabbed a stare into each person. “We are going to have tea and forget this conversation ever came up.”

He was embarrassed to say the least. His ego had taken a step down a huge ladder, and that was enough to crumble his sense of duty.

Jiwon slithered over the icy defence and tugged him back to his seat. Obedient, he did, but her lips were in a slight pout.

“Won Bon, we can not reject that prophecy. It is important. A tradition almost,” she explained, voice somehow flattening the jagged refusal frozen in his chest.

“I know,” he said with a sigh. “But centuries have passed, and nothing has flourished from it. Quite frankly, I am beginning to deny it.”

The table became smoky with a suffocating silence that drifted from his brittle confession. In that moment, Jiwon sent a desperate plea to her husband via their gazes. Jihoon exhaled, leaning forward with steepled fingers on the table.

“Look, Jungwon, it may not come true. I know. But if tension rises and we need a new ability, then it is going to have to be an option,” he declared in the voice that directed junior reapers to be merciless. Jungwon felt the small part of him shrink under his gaze.

He was of age. He always shaped himself for whatever form duty came as. But, marriage? To the person who sliced his ego within hours? It was a disturbing revelation he couldn’t settle with.

Marriage itself scared him. Having to care and tend to someone other than himself. The furthest he doted on someone was his mother and father. If anything happened to them, it would be a failure of his whole existence.

The prophecy sat on his mind, perched like a crow ready to pick at him at a ready moment.

── ⋮ ꒰ঌ ໒꒱ˎˊ˗ ✿

IT HAD BEEN NINE DAYS SINCE YOU WON AGAINST JUNGWON IN THAT TRIAL.

Ever since then, you were working shift after shift. That had only been because there was an influx of bodies coming in, and then dying a few hours later when no one could save them. Grim Reapers came and went, and that had been the reminder of what you had won, and who you had shot down.

It was normal for Reapers to come to the ward you worked in, but there had been a cluster at the beginning of the week, discussing in a secret huddle before departing the Healer’s ward again. Not a single word to you. And even your parents were sceptical as to why they kept coming and going.

Today was a Sunday and still an awfully productive day.

The Healer’s ward had pale blue walls, warm lights sprinkling down the rooms, and beds kept together with a curtain separating each other. The beds had referred, unconscious patients sleeping on them, their souls on a clear display for Bearers.

One man had just been wheeled into the curtain section, and you were there, scrolling on your tablet, examining his details. The man was in his twenties, had a clean-cut wound to his side, which was thankfully stitched up before the man’s condition deteriorated, and he was very much passed out.

But not dead. His soul, in your eyes, was a flickering ball of smoke that glowed silver and blue, floating over the man like it was confused. It connected to the main by a wispy string that emerged from his chest.

Placing the tablet down, you conjured your wand from your right hand, the bracelet shifting colours until it formed. Your wand was pale blue and pink, bedazzled with shimmering gems climbing the wood until it hit the core. There, two clear bands spanned to a heart shape, which had wisps shifting within them. At the centre of the heart, a pink mist gem glowed with life even in shadows.

You had just about clutched it when a cold prickle suddenly arose at the back of your neck. In an instant, you whipped around and flinched as Jungwon appeared like lightning.

In all his glory, he stood over you with broad shoulders fitted in his charcoal Reaper attire, silver adorning his torso in small chains. His hair was wavy, falling just above his feline gaze where obsidian sat heavily with scrutiny, taking you in wholly. He held a scythe as tall as him, sharp-bladed and curved at the top, while the snath had a glassy texture with shadowy storms shifting underneath.

You swallowed, clutching your wand like a weapon at your tight chest. “Lord Yang?” You forced your shoulders to deflate.

Jungwon didn’t blink as he tried to match your initial encounter to the one right before him. Except, he was confused because they didn’t match at all.

“Lady Sim.” He nodded once without straying from the scrutiny.

He was still judging you, you noted.

“Can I help you with anything? You are in the Healer’s ward,” you said, steadying your voice from the initial icy anxiety. Jungwon raised an amused brow as he noted your nervous tics that jumped into your heartbeat.

How did he lose to you, he wondered.

“Yes. I assume you noticed the bodies coming into the hospital?” He asked, gaze travelling over the man behind you, and past the curtains, counting the exact number in this room alone without seeing them. His scythe was practically fuelling the innate urge to take the souls already.

Jungwon was a Grim Reaper—he couldn’t be blamed.

You nodded, trying to connect the dots. “Yes. I assume you know something?”

“There have been a few accidents recently. All around the border and without explanation. They died without witnesses and under abnormal circumstances,” he explained, nudging his chin to the man over your uniformed shoulder. The soul, to Jungwon, was a sphere carrying dark, shifting mist that he could gauge the weight of. More weight meant the soul bore too much to stay alive.

Jungwon wished it was, but you were right there with sympathy that he couldn’t be bothered to understand.

“So, are they victims of the same crime?” You asked curiously.

“From what I can see, possibly. Lord Jongseong and I are in charge of the case, but there hasn’t been much progress.” He stepped closer to the man, and you followed until you and he faced the victim. “I can never seem to get an actual statement. A very empty file, you could imagine.”

“You want to question him, then?” You inquired, wand already gleaming in your palms. Jungwon stood just at your shoulder, scythe distanced, and gave a simple nod for the go.

The tip of your wand levelled with the flickering, misty sphere, connecting to the threads of magic reaching your fingertips. The soul flickered again, hooking onto the wand’s core as you steadily guided it towards the man’s chest. The light disappeared into him, colour flourishing through his skin once more as you retracted your wand. The heart monitor was stable. You watched the man’s face intently for the slightest action.

After a few seconds, the man’s eyes fluttered open to the hospital ceiling with a foggy gaze. You were a blob of colour above him, shifting back to give him space. That movement itself exposed Jungwon and his friend. The mist left his vision when the dark, metal scythe undeniably came into view like an unsaid threat.

His eyes shot wide with panic, screaming.

Jungwon’s brows sank with offence. You gently pushed the man back into the bed, trying to hush his terror from reaching the other sleeping patients.

“Sir, you’re in the hospital,” you said over his pitchy breaths. He sputtered, pointing a shaky finger in the same direction, and you realised he was terrified of the scythe.

Jungwon was stony, not seeing the problem. You shot a desperate look.

“Can you put that away?” You asked deftly, shoulders deflating.

Jungwon sighed at the hindrance, but let the scythe fall to dark dust that ran up his fingers and formed the cuff again. Crossing his arms, totally unimpressed, he approached the cowering man hiding behind his blanket.

You rolled your eyes. Empathy wasn’t one of Jungwon’s pillars.

“Lord Yang is only here to question you,” you assured the man, peeling the blanket back a little. Instantly, he pulled it back to his chin, staring with wide, unbridled fear at Jungwon.

“So… I’m not dying?” He croaked.

“No, I’m not here for that,” Jungwon spoke, his voice a low tone of ridicule. “I need a statement from before you passed out.”

The man swallowed hard, eyes fluttering profusely as he sorted through the memories. Even then, there was a foggy confusion in place as he slumped into the bed. His anxiety practically rippled over your skin like a tide.

“I was taking a walk. I l-live near that path. I always took that path. And then, I felt something cold when I was about to enter the forest area.” He shuddered, eyes screwing shut as he relived the pain. “Something hit me from behind. And then… I woke up here.”

An attack, clearly. Aside from his initial theory of string suicides, this was the first person with an alternate reason. He wasn’t exactly relieved because if someone were having it out for random civilians, then fear would erupt from every corner of the land. On the other hand, keeping it a secret was just as dangerous.

“We shall let you rest, Sir,” you said softly before picking up your tablet and exiting his space. You drew the curtain shut behind Jungwon as he followed.

It was just you and him now.

His hand flexed, gaze drifting to the rest of the curtains within the room. A soul was dying. He knew you could feel it too. For you, it was a spark switching off in the circuit of your chest.

Jungwon glanced with a tinge of mockery. “Can I take the soul for death?” He asked, tilting his head in this infuriatingly smug way.

“Yes, you can,” you replied, voice sharpening. “I do, however, think you are a bit salty, Lord Yang.”

Your brief boldness stirred something in his hollow gaze. Straightening to his height, Jungwon returned your haughty stare with a burning one of his own. “Salty? No, I just want to do my job, Lady Sim.” He leaned in slightly, making you tip your chin to follow his mirrored stubbornness. “You wound me.”

Before you could react to his vain words, he walked past like a shadow, leaving you there with your own breath caught in the web of your chest.

What an asshole.

── ⋮ ꒰ঌ ໒꒱ˎˊ˗ ✿

THE PARKS DID NOT HAVE GOOD NEWS.

“Lady Yunah threatened you?” Jungwon sighed, trying to decrypt what Lady Somin was doing. His fingers dug into the side of the armchair, anxiety brewing in small doses. Methodically, his index finger tapped the fancy fabric. “I thought it was a friendly talk?”

Somin sighed, sitting opposite Jungwon and his parents. “It was. But, you know how impulsive Jay is,” she explained with prickling guilt. It wasn’t good enough. He jeopardised a whole route Jungwon planned, and now, he had to craft another as if the week wasn’t busy enough.

“It sounded like an accusation, I have to admit,” she said, fiddling with her Reaper cuff snug on her wrist. She was here alone since Jongseong was still in the foreign land of fire and water, out for investigations.

Jungwon didn’t bother to focus on that. What he was focusing on was how the foundations of this murder case were already crumbling before he started.

Jiwon, beside him, tutted despite the softness brimming in her eyes. “Somin…”

“I know. They did not appreciate it, obviously, and denied having anything to do with it,” she explained, gaze dipping with worry.

“So, we have gotten nowhere,” Jihoon clarified, voice also flooded with exasperation, rubbing his one temple.

It was nothing. After a week of potential murder victims, the only scrap Jungwon collected was the short statement that added nothing to the bigger picture. He had dust in his case file. Nothing was coming together.

The talk went bad as well. Tensions were arising. Jungwon felt the proposition ghost over the room before anyone said it. His guts twisted.

“We still have the prophecy,” Somin reminded meekly.

There it was. Exhaling with denial bolted into his words, he spoke. “There must be other options other than diving straight into marriage?”

“Jungwon, what else can be done?” Somin interjected the way a mother would scold a child and harshly steer them in a direction. The sympathy was a feather in her gaze, and it reached his parents, tickling them into a contemplative silence.

He tensed, disbelief striking his spine into a straight pin.

“Mother, Father, you cannot be considering marriage—”

“Son…” Jihoon began in a tone that corroded the walls of his confidence. “It has almost been two weeks since the murders have arisen in the city, and there is not one lead. Most of the victims are dead, there are no witnesses, and CCTV were absent in all places.”

Jungwon’s refusal and panic intertwined into a tight noose as he saw the direction of this. They were agreeing with Somin and the drastic jump to such a resolution. Contempt pricked him like shards. They always had to let the Parks have a say in a decision and colour the bigger picture where Jungwon didn’t need them.

“What if you had a union with… Lady Sim, and unlocked an ability to help solve this?” Jihoon suggested, creeping into territory that had Jungwon clenching his jaw.

“It is a gamble, Father,” Jungwon interjected, exhaling another stream of trapped protests.

“I know that, Son. But what if it worked? It would not be so bad,” Jihoon remarked with a softness that was overridden by Jungwon’s flaming disagreement.

Jiwon softly touched Jungwon’s arm, rubbing encouragement into his elbow. Jungwon’s gaze dipped before he could burn his family to ashes.

“Even if the prophecy does not work, you are of age, Jungwon,” said Somin. Jungwon chained his curt gaze to the table rather than the Park sitting before him, trying to convince him that this was normal. “And those bodies can be stored in my husband’s freezer at the GRA mortuary.”

Jungwon nodded on the outside. On the inside, he wanted to die, but unfortunately for him, Grim Reapers held an inhuman strength that shielded them from Death.

“Won Bon, don’t be so upset. Lady Sim could introduce a whole new perspective to you. And I would get a daughter!” Jiwon assured, smiling gently. Jungwon stiffened at those words. Ice hammered into his ribs, making it harder to breathe as he shut his eyes in the silence. Until his sternum cleared, he swallowed hard as it passed.

Jungwon had a duty, and this was his next one.

—

YOU WERE RUNNING.

Running from your parents, that was.

Through the winding hospital halls and bewildered patients, you just about made it to the reception when your mother snagged your elbow. It sent you yelping as she hauled you to the counter. On your other arm, your father steadied you and didn’t let go. Both were breathing hard, disbelief staining their usual understanding.

“Sim Y/n! How dare you run from your own parents?!” She exclaimed, thoroughly out of breath as she placed a hand on her chest.

“It is not my fault when you are chasing me with an absurd proposal!” You frowned, shooting both of them an exasperated look. You tried to keep quiet, but your panic was clearly crossing the boundaries. “Of course, I am going to run!”

“The Yangs contacted us—”

“And?” You retorted sharply, tugging at your arms, but they were stuck. “You are listening to them over your own daughter?” You scoffed incredulously.

Both of your parents sighed in unison. Your mother was the one to huff. “You are worse than Jaeyun at listening.”

You gaped. “I am not—”

“The point is, Y/n, you are of age, the prophecy exists, and they sent us a proposal to meet,” your father interfered with your useless argument.

“Depending on a prophecy is a silly reason to wed. This is my life,” you bristled, voice dropping into deep lament, eyes desperate. It wasn’t fair that they were unleashing this on you.

Your mother released your arm with a sigh to tuck a strand behind your ear. “I know, my love, but you are the highest-ranking Soul Bearer of age. I would advise Jake, but…” Your mother trailed off, giving an uncertain sideways glance.

“He likes Heeseung?” You sulked.

“Yes, he’s hopeless.” Your father sighed. “He must have been bewitched—”

“Yoon Darling,” your mother chastised with a sideways glare. Your father nodded, but that thought was still clouding his mind.

“Just give it a chance. Meet him, see if there is something, and if there isn’t, then we’ll let it go,” she explained, doing nothing to convince you. The anxiety still lingered around your chest, prickling you with everything that could go wrong.

Then came the thought that you weren’t just a daughter anymore. You also had to act your part of the duty no matter how much you didn’t want to. It was just that marriage was a level up from where you were now.

There was nothing you could do. Not when your parents were still stringing along this expectation so you could follow. Well, if meeting Jungwon, who was too salty for his own good, was the solution, then you had to try.

── ⋮ ꒰ঌ ໒꒱ˎˊ˗ ✿

THE YANG ESTATE WAS TOO BIG.

It wasn’t anything you hadn’t seen before. Your own home was lavish and generous with its high ceilings and comfortable warm tones, but this was another level of luxury.

Jungwon’s home was different shades of golden and cream.

You and your family were sitting in a huge lounge with yellow patterned walls, with five floor-to-ceiling windows letting in the noon sunshine. The room was adorned with drawers and tables of delicate little knick-knacks that probably were touched once in their entire lifespan, and the camelback couch you were sitting on had pillows softer than a single feather.

You could feel it behind your back right now. Under your ivory dress with green embroidered leaves on the bodice, you marvelled at how soft everything was here. The dress you wore had fluttering sleeves that rippled down your legs, intricate lace details drawing attention to you like a cloud lone in a blue sky.

You didn’t want to wear something so… formal and extravagant, but your mother ignored you and paired emerald earrings with a long chain to the back of your half-tied hair. In summary, you felt overdressed for such a meeting.

Your mother was on your right, your father on your left, and Jaeyun was sitting alone on another couch.

Thinking it over now, you wondered how you ended up here. You weren’t great at talking to people. Your closest friends were Minju from your school life, and Heeseung, who had sunshine for a personality.

Heeseung would have beamed at you in this gown, and told you to go all in for the opportunity. He saw no wrongs in a situation, and found positivity in anything. Heeseung was as shy as you, so connecting was easier than with anyone else you had met. Other than the two of them, your own mind chained you away from socialising freely.

It was why, even now when Jungwon was imminent on entering the same space, you felt the steel anxiety drill into your joints, making it momentarily hard to move. You tried to sit straight. Then, you kept your eyes ahead and then dropped the strings when it felt too real like this.

“You look like you are about to shit yourself—”

Your mother glared at Jaeyun. “Language.”

“I was just saying.” He sheepishly smiled, fluffy hair already disobeying the earlier hair brushing. He was as serious as a marshmallow. You couldn’t find comfort from him.

In the posh peace of this lounge, it hit you like thunder that you were about to meet with Death himself. You almost flinched back to reality.

The door handle jostled and opened at the thunder in your back. Entering was Lady Jiwon in a navy gown, Lord Yang Jihyun in a matching blue suit, and the main root of all your anxiety.

Jungwon wore pure charcoal with shimmering grey swirls woven into his blazer, with a fitted waist jacket that had a chain dangling delicately from the small breast pocket. A black tie nestled at the base of his honey throat, accentuating his stupidly broad shoulders.

It was his eyes beneath wavy hair that forced a memory of your first encounter into vision.

They were so dark, sitting like obsidian atop your face, like he wanted to carve the judgement into your skin. You had absolutely no idea what he was feeling in the void behind his irises.

His mother, you recognised as Lady Jiwon from surface-level research, approached with the most pearliest smile.

“I am so delighted everyone made it,” she exclaimed happily. Much more joyous than Jungwon. She brought Lord Yang forward, hands interlocked. “My husband, Jihoon.”

Jihoon bowed his head a little, smiling with a dimple. Did Jungwon have a dimple? “Pleasure to meet everyone.”

“We are honoured,” said your father, getting up to shake Jihoon’s hand firmly before sitting. “I am Yoon. My wife here is Mei, and Jaeyun is our elder son.”

A fluffy smile slipped past Jaeyun’s lips like instinct.

Then, Jiwon brought Jungwon forward with a small, frantic wave of her hand. Obliging to her, he slowly walked forward and bowed his head in greeting.

“Nice to meet everyone,” he murmured with a voice gripping onto control.

At your time to stand, Jiwon’s eyes sparked into fireworks as she smiled. She took your hands, thumbing over your knuckles. “You must be Lady Sim Y/n, the one my Son met in court. You are such a beauty!”

Warmth hit your cheeks. Jihoon smiled. Jungwon, on the other hand, looked like he was verifying that last bit when his eyes dragged slowly over your features.

“Thank you.”

Everyone sat down in their designated space, waiting as maids brought tea in expensive, untouchable ceramics and pastries made for display. You hadn’t moved an inch, focused on itching the anxiety out of your thumb.

You were too focused on whether you were sitting straight or slouching. Or if Jungwon was waiting for you to do that. His gaze was practically carved into your face.

Jaeyun sent a discreet smile behind his teacup, wiggling his brows that conjured a violent wave in you from his deceptive facade.

“As you know, there has been an influx of murders around the borders,” Jihoon began after a sip, dampening the atmosphere.

“Yes, Y/n told us some of it,” Yoon said, his tone dissipating from that initial joy. Silence from your end as your gaze stayed locked on the table.

Jungwon sensed the hitch in your heartbeat. It was a constantly rapid pace ever since you got here. The meeting was well past brief impressions, so he knew it wasn’t targeted at that. No. This pace had been troubling you for a while. Jungwon narrowed his investigative gaze as he sipped his tea.

In your place, your mother cleared her throat. “And, when we got the proposal, we were all…” she gave a subtle sideways glance at your sulky, lowered eyes, “… very pleased.”

Jiwon grinned. “I am glad. Won Bon—”

“Mother,” Jungwon grumbled, making Jiwon smile sheepishly. You caught the distaste when you briefly met eyes. Sheepishly, she smiled in a way that smoothed the anxious knots in your spine.

“My Jungwon is so work-oriented. It took a while to convince him,” she said gently, ignoring Jungwon’s shrivelling nonchalance. Pink dusted his cheeks in a way that almost made him look… shy. You wanted to question how someone like him could do that.

“Oh, we had to chase our daughter down,” Yoon added impishly. The room erupted in small laughter as you stiffened at the memory. Jungwon, from the other side of the couch, slowly raised a brow, trying to imagine you running away. Warmth drowned your cheeks again as his gaze dragged over your face with flames.

You turned back to your tea.

“Jungwon is just as stubborn. When he lost the court case—”

Jungwon straightened, gaze whipping to his father. “The Prophecy… please.”

Jihoon smiled, expecting it. “Right. We proposed this because of the well-known prophecy. Currently, there are no leads, no evidence indicating a clear direction. We hoped unlocking the ability would possibly help solve it all,” Jihoon explained, too serious for the denial homed in your head.

“Even if the ability doesn’t help the murder cases, it is still special if it is known to us,” Jiwon added with a signature smile.

None of this made sense to you. The protests were already burning your tongue, observing how they must have already made their decisions. It was unfair. However, you had to people-please everyone.

Delivering what they expected of you to gain a shred of validation. Working in the hospital as a Soul Bearer and handling the delicate packages of life meant no mistakes. The fragile version of yourself you crafted for them was nothing without being right. Soul Bearing made it clear that it shouldn’t even be a scenario in your head.

The conversation droned on about union possibility, about working together, and new perspectives. Each one had you holding your voice as fate was strategised in front of you. Jungwon was silent as you were, his hand flexing momentarily because the whole thing strengthened his sense of duty again.

One more level for both you and him.

“We shall let you two converse,” Mei said, squeezing your shoulder softly in encouragement. You felt anything but that.

Jihoon sent a look to Jungwon that said to “be kind”, and then was the one to close you and him into the lounge.

The door clicked shut. Silence hung between you since it was much more comforting than to confront whatever was going to happen in the near future.

Discomfort invaded your nerves and forced you to trace the neatly-cut portraits and sunlight peeking through the fluttering curtains. He was still probing your face from afar.

“Do you like summer?” Jungwon asked in a low voice, following your gaze to his sunny windows. He leaned back, a leg crossed over the other, a head tilted with increasing interest.

“I think so. However, I do not like it for so long.” You glanced away from the intense void sitting in his eyes. He raised an inquisitive brow.

“Strange words,” he commented dryly.

“Meaning?” You returned, gaze narrowing.

“Meaning what do you like then?” Jungwon crossed his arms, capturing your eyes within one second. A skip flashed through your heart at his attention.

You glanced at the glass windows once more. “Every season, but not for a long period. Except Spring. It rains too much.”

Jungwon’s lips twitched in amusement at your absurdity, but he remembered he wasn’t supposed to be laughing at you like a comrade. He was still petty over the lost trial, and that alone smoothed his emotions straight.

“I like Spring,” he stated, blinking in a way that was far too serious. “I like the rain.”

Your smirk was subtle and swift. “Of course you do.”

“What do you mean by that?” Jungwon now remarked quietly, his small glare carving into you.

“Spring rain never goes away. Like your grudges, Lord Yang,” you answered, letting go of decorum now. His face fell, nonchalance unravelling right before your eyes as he leaned forward, as if he could physically dig into your mind.

“The Spring rain is a transitional period where the blooms are born after a hard winter.” Jungwon steepled his fingers.

“How poetic.” You cracked the smallest, incredulous smile before reality pulled at your chest once more. This wasn’t some enjoyable meeting with Death. It was a negotiation for marriage.

You hesitantly met his eyes. The hostility wasn’t as present anymore, but there was still a boundary stopping you from seeing his emotions on the other side. He was staring too. There was no hiding about it.

“How are we supposed to fulfil something almost imaginary?” You asked quietly, fingers digging into your lap.

“I don’t know,” he replied after a few quiet seconds. It was a gamble, and he knew you knew it too. Some common ground there.

“Then, what does it entail? To… make this prophecy true?” You asked carefully. Your parents never told you in full how one connected to it. All you knew was that a wand and scythe were needed for it.

His gaze wandered a little before landing on you like he was trying to creep into the territory without scaring you. “My parents have said it a few times…” He got to his feet, cautiously approaching with a generous slowness. “We need to let the wand and scythe touch, and they say you fall into a ‘trance’…” he stopped for a contemplative second, searching.

You spared a look at his shadowy cuff that shone. “Or?”

“Some say in bed,” he stated casually.

“What?” You exclaimed with pinched brows.

He shut his eyes regretfully before opening them. “Not like that. I mean, in a sleep state in bed. You know how sleep works, right?”

“When we sleep, our souls are detached from the body.” You nodded.

“That means, outside the body, our souls can interact. That is one of the ways.” He watched as you stood and began to saunter to the big windows. Following, he scanned the curve of your waist, how your hair draped flawlessly behind your back, and the delicate jewel sat in the sea of your strands.

He strolled along until he lingered behind you.

You realised how stupidly tall he was. “What happens when you… take a soul for death?”

Jungwon was surprised at your interest, considering you wanted to burn holes into his head the other day, but he looked past your face and to the florals bobbing by in the wind outside.

“When I’m delivering them to death, I go to this specific place. Death Meadow is what I call it. Dark, vast—a field, and it’s where Reapers go,” Jungwon replied, recalling the dim skies and the long grass brushing his knees.

You frowned. “Is that all it looks like?”

“Did you expect a castle?” He mused, his deep voice rippling down your spine.

“A field is hardly exciting,” you mumbled, crossing your arms almost in defence. He chuckled curtly.

“Death is hardly exciting,” he said back quietly. Your profile exposed the curve of your nose, or your lips, which, he had to admit, complemented your… facial harmony.

“I know,” you muttered back, sighing. After a few terse seconds, you rolled out your right hand, letting the bracelet morph into the signature wand. “We should try, shouldn’t we?”

Jungwon’s chest swelled with the anticipation of it. If there was something, though he didn’t know what, then a marriage was inevitable. A wedding. A life with you. The person he had nearly cursed out loud sixteen days ago. Thinking back to it, maybe he was overreacting, but then the thought crumbled as his ego ached.

You watched his face shift with thoughts, probably knowing how real this all was. The finality hammered through your chest until breathing felt tiring. This was it. And there was only one way to find out.

Wordlessly, you inched the wand forward towards his scythe, ignoring the apprehension twisting violently in your guts.

You shared a look that he mirrored: this would seal their fates into one path.

The scythe touched first. Blade met gem, and instantly, a heavy wave rippled from your chest to the base of your spine, activating some other part within you had no experience with. It thrummed in your ears and smoked the space behind your eyes. Bewildered, you glanced at Jungwon and froze when his irises glowed.

No void. His eyes had a corona of something white that haunted his now brown irises. He looked personal. Human. Normal.

Jungwon’s breath hitched as blue slithered and lit your own eyes homed the mist that felt as if they had always been there in the shadows. Inside, his body rattled like fabric shifting over one another, creating friction and warmth that was too energetic to handle.

You departed first, wand clutched to your chest with ferocity. Jungwon’s scythe fell back into a cuff, catching his curt breath that escaped his control. The silence was a sentence on both you and him before Jungwon sighed.

“You felt that, did you not?” He asked, eyes averted.

You nodded once. “Yes.” Your tone was eroded by anxiety.

“And you know what that means?” He glanced at you again, where acceptance was absent from your stance. Your shoulders were stiff when you tentatively returned his gaze, which was a void once more. “My parents shall talk to yours. For a union.”

He turned, ready to walk out, but your uncertainty followed after him a few steps. “Do you want to get married?” You couldn’t help it. This whole thing had to be turning his axis too.

That made him stop, shoulders shifting beneath like he was preparing a practised answer. It was a second late. A second of hesitance you spotted in yourself. You thought he would be real for a second, but he straightened like a stone wall again.

“I don’t have to want to. I need to,” he answered in a resolved tone before continuing his stride towards the closed doors. His heart protested in angry stomps, which he ignored.

You felt it, however. His worth anchored his shoulders, fragile as it was huge on him. It curled, a monster he efficiently tucked away.

That was enough to tell you he wasn’t going to back out.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━˚₊‧꒰ა ♡ ໒꒱‧₊˚━━━━━━━━━━━━━

── .✦ [NOTES]: okay, did yall like this? You can tell I gave up in the end with proof reading this. Also, I am on holiday, but I had no wifi for a bit, and now I do. So, I haven't written anything LMFAO. But, even then, I hope you guys liked this! <3

ᯓ [DREAM LIBRARY] °❀⋆.ೃ ᐟ.ᐟ

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⊹₊꒷︶꒷꒦‧₊˚⊹︰꒷

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ᴛᴀɢʟɪꜱᴛ : @soyyiiu @won1yoiz @yangbreads @t-rex-12 @itsstarynights @jungwonisme @kjunebuggie @stealerrrrsstuff @ughsoannoying @melancholatte @zino-yoon @xozerose @orngejuic-io

The last thing he wanted to do was debate whether he could do his job of taking a soul. His whole life revolved around knowing when a body was ready for death, not for battling it. Jungwon could read a fading heartbeat when close, so getting a court case was an insult to his work.

In the case, a middle-aged man had a terrible accident and sustained injuries all over, enough for him to fall into the fragile hands of a coma. Six months was the monitoring period for a body to be observed, but after that? Grim Reapers would get involved.

Jungwon had his head straight and was happy to take the soul and gain a rank. But then, a dispute had landed in his office, infuriatingly so.

An abominable dispute challenged his objective. It meant having to go to court and contest whether to pull life support or keep the man steady in sleep.

It dampened his whole week.

Even now, as he left behind the crowd cursing him out at the front, Jungwon strolled by the court walls like it was his crafted path, knowing exactly where to go. The public meant nothing to him because, to them, he was a heartless monster that fed off people’s souls.

Of course, Jungwon didn’t feed off souls. He had no care for who he took and what happened once he closed the doors, so he really felt all those insults bounce off his back.

He trained for that. Every acidic remark thrown, he learned to wash it off before it could ever burn. He had to. When being the heir to taking over the GRA, it was key to tune out everyone’s useless opinions and go with his gut. And his gut was where his duty was shaped.

His father, Yang Jihoon, taught him that. He ingrained it in Jungwon’s head. And he was supposed to be here.

The hallway was filled with several court officials talking among clients, but none were his father. Despite the push to learn punctuality, his father never practised it.

Whatever. Jungwon sauntered to his assigned courtroom and pushed the doors open to the grand, brown interior.

There was a raised platform at the front for the judge, two long tables parallel to each other from opposite sides of the room, and the lower gallery consisted of seats arranged in rows until it hit the main door. The upper panel had glass windows to accommodate more secretive observers.

It wasn’t empty. Among the lower gallery, a woman who matched the victim’s age sat with her shoulders hunched, eyes cloudy with grief. She looked as if she was curling into a seated, dejected ball. Beside her was an elderly couple, whom he only assumed to be the parents. In a mirroring figure, they leaned on each other, frowns anchored with apprehension.

Jungwon paid them no mind as he sat down, finally setting his eyes on who dared to dispute his claim. Except he paused the stream of thoughts when he saw you.

You sat with perfectly aligned shoulders controlled beneath the smoothest white shirt he had ever seen. Those were tucked into the baby blue skirt reaching the top of your knees. The pleats looked strictly ironed and straight. And he almost scoffed at the white stockings with matching pale blue bows delicately atop your knees like you were pulling attention in the little ways. Your shoes weren’t dramatic. They were reserved flats that probably swallowed sounds before they made one.

You didn’t stop writing. Your pen flew across the paper, writing some nonsense, he imagined, and didn’t take a break. Not even to look at him.

Jungwon slowly frowned a fraction, his own index finger tapping the table methodically as he processed the strict line of your lips and how your eyes simply followed the flow of the ink. It felt unnerving. So, he tapped into your heartbeat.

Easygoing pace with a slight hitch, as if it knew it was being spied on. Jungwon couldn’t spot the nervousness on your face if that was what your heart was translating. It confused him, so he glanced to where your right hand was adorned with a spiral of gems coloured baby blue and pink before it shaped a heart, and extended into rings that hugged each finger.

Jungwon tilted his head. On his own fidgeting hand, there was a metal cuff, running with black runes beneath that spoke of the deaths it aided. His own cuff grew out, extended into rings for each finger. It was where his scythe stayed when he didn’t want it present. It gravely helped with walking around in public without conjuring fear.

The only difference between him and you was that you were a Soul Bearer.

The exact opposite to who he was.

Instead of taking life, they delivered them; instead of scanning heartbeats, they sensed emotion through the ripple and weight of energy; they also boosted souls and encouraged them back into bodies, bringing colour to cheeks again.

Jungwon loathed them because they brought him here. To this arid courtroom where it reeked of tears and bad news.

It didn’t disturb you in the slightest. Uninterrupted, you kept scribing whatever nonsense, possibly breaking down whatever hurdle he was about to chuck your way. As if you knew.

How stupid.

Jungwon halted the finger tapping and opened his laptop, beginning to open his notes and read them with burning eyes. This particular time, he felt like he was going to have to recite everything verbatim to break through that stoic shield of yours.

Eventually, court officials lined the benches, had their notepads out, and the writers were organised. The judge had her glasses on, making everyone rise before it all commenced.

A flicker brewed in Jungwon’s nerves, making his fingers dance again. Cooling it down, he stood and walked around to present his argument. Only then did you meet his gaze.

Oh, you had this stupidly sweet gaze, scanning him so thoroughly as if he was a dream all in your head. But his feline eyes were heavy with his own judgement as it carved into your skin, taking in your features for memory. Finally, you surrendered back to rewriting the ink on your paper.

Jungwon refrained from a smug smirk and faced the judge instead of the grieving family. He learned the hard way that facing the gallery earned a strong tide of glares as a Grim Reaper.

“I will repeat the rule for everyone that the hospital has set forth,” Jungwon said, not bothering to face you, who probably knew this fact already. “The hospital has a six-month period where the patient is monitored while comatose. After that, Grim Reapers are allowed to take the soul once it reaches six months.”

Someone sniffled in the room, and pens scribbled on paper.

“Under the Grim Reaper’s Association, I argue that keeping him in the hospital will not benefit him any further.” He cast a final look at the judge. The heartbeats around him practically hammered with disagreement and hidden insults, but Jungwon sat back down and let his words sink in.

Logical and curt. His very way of working.

The counterargument started with you. The flats made no sound, gaze drifting to the crowd rather than to him. A tactic he found didn’t work in his favour. For you, however, the elderly couple and wife had a sparkle in their teary eyes. In your hand was a pen, thumb repeatedly rubbing the lid to occupy your nervous tick.

Your heartbeat, he found, was still being restrained with great effort.

“Mr Kim suffered several injuries in the car accident,” you began, the cadence of your voice reserved, a practised path with no gaps between. “However, over the months, he has displayed great improvement. His wounds are healing, and his vitals are stable.”

Repeating the case—also another strategy you put forth to remind everyone why you weren’t the ‘bad’ one here.

“His soul, as Reapers and Bearers can see, is still connected to him. Keeping him alive is a perfect opportunity to encourage his soul to return to the body. We have a specialised ward for it, which my family primarily work in,” you explained, growing more firm. Then, you finally hooked your attention on him, your thumb now harshly digging into the ridge of the pen lid.

His gaze was obsidian and endless, and staring would only lose your train of thought. Apart from his subtle frown, you squared your shoulders a little and faced the contempt sewn into his brows.

“I agree that six months is the observational period; however, with Mr Kim’s improvement, he can gain a sense of his soul again. It is the last step,” you said, trying very hard to stay on his gaze. It was like a black flame that you had never seen before, but you were too afraid to explore.

Jungwon didn’t move to make a note. He was too busy dealing with your hidden audacity to spell this case out for him with baby steps. He understood all of this, of course, but keeping a corpse in a ward was hardly productive. The thought was cruel and strict, but he knew nothing other than that.

“For patients that do not improve, it is another situation entirely. For Mr Kim, it is a chance. And, I think his family would be pleased that this last step is the one to take, and the one that could break his coma.” You finally swerved gazes to the judge, smiling a little before sitting down.

Jungwon felt like your argument wasn’t even much. It was a few sentences bedazzled with empathy before being given to the gallery and court officials to write.

His heart began to drum with animosity. It was a speed he couldn’t chain back, and it ran against his ribs. Not because you were better, but because he felt as if everyone else was going to side with you. There was no jury, but he had a gut feeling that wrapped ivy around his spine.

No. He shoved that whole feeling beneath soil and mentally stomped on it. You were just a glorified empath.

As the minutes ticked on, you and Jungwon were heaving arguments back and forth. You, however, had thorns gradually growing in your tone. Each piece he gave, you returned it with another sharp counterattack, and you were growing sulky, even. He had focused too much on the sunken brows that aided your frustration with him, and the way you met his gaze head-on with a crash when talking back to him.

That initial restrained heartbeat was slower now, but burned strong with annoyance.

“If he wanted to come back to his body, his soul would’ve returned and awakened him.”

“A wound does not heal so easily either.”

“There are no specific steps to bring a soul back except by healing. And there is no guarantee there either.” Jungwon’s gaze narrowed.

“Lord Yang, what benefit does taking a soul away do other than giving you an increase of rank?” You glared at him, all soft fury with a tone that skidded against his ears. Your heartbeat fluttered, sinking once more with the light downturn of your lip.

Jungwon had his comment ready. Leaning forward with those feline eyes full of hollow understanding, he spoke.

“Lady Sim, I would love to give a lecture on my job and how it helps our nation, but the hour is coming to an end. All I have to say is that I abide by the rules given.” He sat back with his relaxed, intertwined fingers on his lap, smug. “That is the strongest argument one can give.”

That last comment forced you to avert your burning eyes to the ink on the page, recalling the calm strokes you had written before getting all worked up.

Recess arrived shortly after that. It was a thirty-minute period that allowed Jungwon to sit in a room with bare, cream walls, a few couches, and a huge window broadcasting bobbing flowers and a trickling fountain in silence.

All too idyllic for such a place adopting stress, he thought.

The door opened behind the armchair he rested on.

“Son!” His father’s voice flinched him from the calm petals.

“Father.” Jungwon nodded. Jihoon was slightly taller and wore the routine blue blazer and pants with a jolly stroke of colour on his face. His features were a frame for innate joy and twin dimples.

“Soul Bearer case?” Jihoon asked, sitting down opposite Jungwon.

To that, he nodded, the initial exasperation filling his head with aggravating smoke. “A waste of time, really?”

“She’s just doing her job, Son.”

“Taking up hospital beds with corpses is not productive in any sense,” Jungwon corrected, flexing his cuffed hand as if he could imagine his scythe’s hunger for a soul. Calming that pang into a gentle ache, Jungwon sighed, staring once more at the silent nature outside.

“Don’t be envious, Won. It is not a good sight on you.”

“I always look like this.” Jungwon raised a bitter brow.

“Exactly.” Jihoon raised his brows in return, making Jungwon realise that his parental figure was not so serious about this. Jungwon wished he could be as loose, but that was all before when expectations weren’t premature, and when duty had a schedule.

“I was watching,” Jihoon added impishly.

“You did?” Jungwon inquired. That didn’t help alleviate the pressure to win.

“Of course. I wouldn’t miss it,” he replied, face turning a little brave as he spared a glance at Jungwon. “And, I must say, she is quite a match—”

“Father,” Jungwon said with a deep, contemptuous sigh. “Not this again.”

Jihoon pursed his lips, trying very hard to choose his words without it blowing a fuse in the process. “I never said anything about the prophecy.”

“You were thinking it,” Jungwon exclaimed, gesturing wildly with a single hand. “You made that face.”

“I did not.”

“You did. You did that stupid thing with your lips,” Jungwon pointed out, eyes shiny with pins of refusal. Jihoon broke into a sigh.

“Can you blame me? You are the heir to the highest-ranking Death Lineage, and Lady Sim Y/n happens to be the highest-ranking Soul Bearer,” Jihoon explained, voice lowering from that joy to something stern. “I did my research in the session.”

Jungwon wasn’t having it as his cuffed hand flexed into a fist, determined to cling to his refusal. “You are depending on a centuries-long prophecy that has barely come to fruition. What makes you think it is me and… her?”

“You two are alike,” Jihoon countered.

“We absolutely are not!” Jungwon argued, suddenly on his feet. It was probably getting late. Desperate to escape his dad, he glanced at the clock and walked with relief when he noticed that recess was coming to an end. He yanked the door open.

“I need to go, Father. The Judge would have declared a verdict now.”

“I will come with you,” his father said, already on his feet and out the door before Jungwon could blink.

As Jungwon watched his jolly father walk further away, he prayed that he would win.

── ⋮ ꒰ঌ ໒꒱ˎˊ˗ ✿

JUNGWON LOST.

The Judge kept going with his announcement. Jungwon was sure he hadn’t heard it right, but then he glanced at the family cooped in the one row flooded with relief. They had burst to their feet, rushed to the barrier, and began to thank you profusely.

A heavy denial wedged in between his ribs and stayed like a sore thumb. However, he had the habit of watching.

You smiled gently at the family, shaking their hands. Underneath, your heartbeat was a swift flutter of disbelief and happiness all at once. It began to soar while Jungwon’s heart found the common, raging rhythm, bumping with that wedge of incredulity that the verdict stabbed him with.

You dipped your head to the family, barely glanced at Jungwon, and then smiled at the Judge. As quick as that, you slipped through the staff door, disappearing like smoke after setting his whole mind on fire.

What just happened?

Jungwon hadn’t failed ever since his first trial. And that was when he was of age—eighteen. Back then, he had been under the brunt of every learned rule, every cold emotion at his first trial. Ultimately, the lack of balance had tipped him off the scale, making his delivery messy.

He had learned from that. The mistakes were studied, then erased from history because he didn’t lose one after that. Some trials consisted of investigations rather than tangling with the public’s hearts. Regardless, he had a vow.

He never lost.

Now, it was unravelling because of you. A crack in the canvas.

Jungwon stormed into the hallway, pins pricking his spine that made him want to swallow a cigarette so he could numb his blood. His father appeared by his side, matching his furious pace.

They reached the glass exit to the sprightly city where, beyond the tree line, the city bustled under a clear, blue sky. People wandered in or out of the courthouse, navigating their own proficient jobs and lives.

Jihoon stopped Jungwon from abusing any more of the floor by hooking a gentle hand on his shoulder. “You are taking this too harshly.”

Jungwon loathed that tone. It was bubble wrap for delicate situations, but Jungwon was not that. He preferred it if his father told him off for losing. He needed that lash of discipline.

“It’s not a success, is it?” Jungwon asked, sardonic as he met his father’s searching gaze.

“It was not totally useless,” Jihoon said, resigned. Jungwon glared at his father’s gabble.

“You are hopeless. This prophecy—”

“Are you saying it is fake?” Jihoon raised a brow.

Jungwon stayed silent, his jaw clenching gradually, teetering between telling his father off or being respectful. Then, he thinned his lips, glancing outwards again.

“I didn’t say that.”

The prophecy his father was infatuated with was made by a man centuries ago, claiming that two opposites would unite. Specifically, it was Life and Death. And when they did have a union, it would unlock a secret ability.

What that ability was—nobody knew.

So, it was a dangerous gamble.

“I just think that being too optimistic about something so old will do no good. Save those prayers for useful things. It could have been for my trial, but that did not come true,” Jungwon said, tilting his head with knives glinting in his eyes.

Then, before his father could stop him, Jungwon descended the stairs to where his car pulled up. Black and sleek with tinted windows when the sun was too much.

“You never know!” Jihoon said, chasing after him.

Jungwon entered the car and closed it in his father’s face.

── ⋮ ꒰ঌ ໒꒱ˎˊ˗ ✿

“A little birdie told me you won against Death himself.”

Your brother, Jaeyun, was following around with sparkles for eyes, fluffy hair, and a bright smile. However, you had no time for him right now.

Currently, you were working a shift in the Healer’s ward of the hospital, holding your tablet at the reception counter. It was fairly quiet for now, but you knew someone was bound for an emergency, and you needed your mind set before it happened. It was a trait grown through months of doing this profession.

Jaeyun wasn’t helping when he was constantly reminding you of that court trial. It was such a dream. Sure, you had delivered a stitched explanation, but beneath the mask, you were made of loose seams and tattered explanations. Usually, doing court trials didn’t bring erratic nerves, but Yang Jungwon was a star in the universe of court trials. So, finding out you were against him had forced all your thoughts to be shot clean.

“Don’t ignore me, Y/nie,” he said, leaning on the counter next to your tablet.

“Who was your birdie?” You asked, sparing a swift glance, but scrolling harder on the screen, barely reading the words.

“My husband,” Jaeyun answered with a pearly smile.

That halted your scrolling, shooting a bewildered gaze at your brother. “Please stop calling Heeseung that.”

Jake grinned, adjusting his glasses. “Nope! Heeseung is my friend, brother, and husband—”

Your brows sank with a thousand confused questions. “Brother and husband?”

“Trust me. Heeseung wouldn’t even mind,” Jake affirmed before his gaze was over your shoulder, eyes lighting up with recognition.

Heeseung had burgundy hair flopping around his sweet, doe-brown eyes where starry thoughts were born. He wore the same, neutral uniform, white and baby blue, and his wand, which had been in his hand, began to crumble into a magic mist and slither back into a cuff atop his wrist. He leaned on the same counter your crisis was short-circuiting.

“I heard my name,” Heeseung said, leaning beside you. You frowned.

“You told Jake about my trial? You were there?” You asked sulkily.

“I was actually in the upper panel. I told them I was a past client that felt too grateful to skip a trial,” Heeseung said proudly, brows raising. Jake was easily impressed, but you scoffed, nudging Heeseung with a soft palm.

“You could have told them you were my friend?”

“I like the back story—the flair it gives me,” he replied, chuckling. Both men laughed at either side of you. It was disgustingly romantic.

“Fine. I battled Lord Yang,” you began quietly, remembering the dips of anxiety you had fallen into through the court session.

“You make it sound like he tried to take you out with his scythe,” Jake mused, impish.

“It felt like it,” you shot back, nudging Jake away as he grinned like a daisy.

“You actually did really well. I couldn’t tell you wanted to die,” Heeseung commented casually. He recalled the sediments of control fueled into your straight posture, the tone of metal certainty, and your perfect reasoning. It was a win, he thought.

While you could tick the good points of the whole thing, Jungwon’s midnight glare distanced you the whole time. In fact, you were glad your skin was still intact after the whole thing. Mainly because you had lost the anxious edge in the last quarter of that argument. The rage shielded it.

Getting that exact verdict had switched the apprehension back on. You had never packed so quickly in your life.

“I never want to do that again. Nor meet him,” you admitted, rubbing the side of your head to erode the memory.

Heeseung made a sound of disagreement, crossing his arms like he just pulled a memory back into vision. You and Jake both glanced hastily.

“What?” You said, a twinge of horror twisting in your voice.

“Senior Lord Yang, his dad, by the way, was sitting across me in the upper panel. And he kept looking at you, Y/n,” Heeseung explained, eyebrows wiggling suggestively with a goofy grin.

This was going somewhere awful already. “So?”

“Don’t you know who Dada Yang is?” Heeseung asked, brows furrowed in a sudden second.

“Don’t call him that, Seung.” You grimaced.

Jake completely ignored you. “Dada Yang is the top Lord of Death. Lord Jungwon is his only heir as of now. And he is of age.” He glanced at your increasingly gloomy face. “Lord Yang Jungwon is twenty-two.”

“And you are twenty-one,” Heeseung said like clockwork. This just went downhill easily.

Their talk made your smile stiff, the appreciation for their stupid facts dying on the spot. “Guys—”

“You could be the one—” Jake tried to say.

You slammed a tempered hand on the counter, flinching both Jake and Heeseung out of their seesaw of a conversation. Both turned with bewildered gazes, clearly lacking your perspective. You straightened with locked shoulders and exasperated brows.

“No. I am not the ‘one’, okay?” You began quietly. “Quoting something so old and ridiculous is out of the question. You sound like our parents,” you chastised Jake, picking up your tablet.

It completely flew over Jake’s head. “Y/n, you can’t deny that this could be real. We deliver souls to pregnant women with wands. I don’t think anything is too ‘ridiculous’.”

“How many times have Soul Bearers and Grim Reapers tried to come together, only for the lineages never to come to fruition?” You asked them, tablet held with paling knuckles. When you received silence, you resolutely continued. “Right. There has not been any circumstance like that. Because of that, there was never a successful union.”

Heeseung and Jake stayed silent, slowly deflating from their sky-high ideas. Mischief, however, danced in Jake’s eyes as he leaned on the counter. You sulked.

“You never know!”

“Jake!”

He put his hands up in surrender. “I’m saying the truth!”

── ⋮ ꒰ঌ ໒꒱ˎˊ˗ ✿

THE PARKS WERE A CONSTANT PRESENCE IN JUNGWON’S MANOR.

Specifically, Park Jongseong, who was witty and goal-oriented; those qualities clashed with his premature trigger that would act before he fully thought.

With him were his parents. Lady Somin and Lord Sehyun were a constant force existing throughout his life. For as long as Jungwon could remember, the Parks were a second set of parents from another tree. They were so closely entwined with the Yangs that they lived only yonder from the Yang Manor, separated simply by a cobblestone path.

Today, everyone gathered for tea in the Yang garden. It was behind the glorious manor that stood like a palace, underneath a cream marquee where manicured foliage was shaped up pillars, and where petals learned to keep off the path.

There was no use in these mundane tea moments. So, he was looking through some documentation on his tablet, still boiling from the court case from a week ago. He hadn’t seen you again, and hoped it would stay like that.

The tablet was suddenly snatched out of his arms. Jungwon jumped momentarily before snapping his eyes up, only to soften when he saw his beamy mother.

“Won Bon, you know there is no work talk at tea time,” she chastised gently, her voice the weight of petals. She faced the tablet down on the table.

Lady Jiwon, his kind and sensitive mother, was someone he couldn’t defy.

“Sorry, Mother,” he murmured. Jiwon smiled a sweet thing before sitting next to him. He could never get anything past her these days. Not even work.

Tea time was a sacred time where family bonded. It was her routine to gather everyone around this white-clothed table and talk about the most recent treasures of their lives. But the treasures were boring life events.

The glass doors to the garden opened, revealing Jihoon talking to the Parks with troubled voices.

Lord Sehyun wore something casual and meaningful, with his clean shirt and pants; Lady Somin wore her smooth gown with pin-straight black hair; Jongseong’s hair was loose, wearing all black, like Jungwon.

“Somin, was my husband keeping you late again?” Jiwon doted sweetly with a pearly smile.

Somin scoffed, subtly jabbing a thumb in her husband’s direction. “It is not all yours. My husband and Son are the same. They talk about work everywhere.”

“Just like Won Bon!” Jiwon exclaimed, nodding at Jungwon. The nickname was embarrassing despite being a source of warmth. He never told her off for it anymore. The last time he told her not to, she did it again in the next breath.

He acknowledged the Parks with a casual, murmured greeting. Then, everyone sat down in their designated spaces, letting maids pour beverages into ceramics before being left alone. His father’s frantic heartbeat was chasing something unknown, too panicked to be about something unserious. The tension tangled his father’s brows, and Jungwon couldn’t quite figure it out.

“What happened?” Jungwon asked first.

Jongseong quirked a half-impressed smile. “As diligent as ever.” He leaned in, some of that amusement draining away. “There have been bodies found near the border. And, I’m seeing a pattern.”

There had been a few souls he himself picked up before the GRA collected the body, but all that was on his confiscated tablet. From memory, the people that died had done so in freak accidents: a crushed skull here, an impaled body somewhere else, and all away from the heart of the city to where rurality made most of the location.

“I remember recording such,” Jungwon said, lifting his gaze thoughtfully. “I thought they had normal causes, non-suspicious, that is.”

“I know.” Jongseong hummed. “But all of them are near the borders. Suicide, accidents—but they all died near the same place.”

Good observation. The only detail was: where was Jongseong leading with this?

“What are you suggesting? Murder?” Jungwon asked, incredulous almost.

“It’s what the evidence dictates,” Jongseong affirmed, tension slithering into his brows. Another detail stabbed Jungwon out of the ludicrous conclusion.

Most of the people who died had nothing special to their name. They were people who barely belonged to a magical Lineage—were normal workers. They weren’t from the top of the economy or society.

“Those who died had completely normal lives. Who would want to murder them?” Jungwon let the question break the ‘no-work’ talk and displease his mother. She had gone quiet, but distaste radiated out of her tightly crossed arms.

“If it is murder, we need to investigate,” Jihoon said, tone dipping with worry.

Jongseong’s eyes gleamed with an idea. “I could ask the foreign bordering land,” he suggested. Jungwon hadn’t even processed it before Somin was nodding enthusiastically.

“That is smart. I have researcher friends on the other side. Fire Lineages,” she said, laying down the plan. “I have been meeting them a lot. They would happily house you, Jongie.”

Jungwon had one tiny protest. That proposition was based on no leads, motive, or even victims, as dark as it sounded. It was crossing a road blind for an inevitable car crash before the investigation even began.

“Before that,” Jungwon interrupted the Parks’ shared epiphany, “we need to check the areas and find clues. If it is a cause for concern, we can get the court involved—”

“Speaking of court,” Jongseong said, whipping his eyes towards Jungwon with mischief. He leaned forward, grinning in a way that made Jungwon rub his one temple. “You lost it against Soul Bearer Lady Sim!”

There it was. Jungwon exhaled something close to snapping as the Parks practically leaned over their spaces, gasping with too much curiosity for their own good. The avalanche of questions hit him instantly.

“I have heard of Lady Sim,” said Sehyun.

“She was impressive against our Jungwon,” his father rejoiced with celebration.

“Won Bon did well,” his mother chimed with glittering praise.

“Someone as powerful as her matches—” Jay had tried to say before Jungwon abruptly stood, eyes of oblivion icing each of their excited interjections into a stunned silence. Then, he slowly exhaled again.

“We are not going to talk about the prophecy.” Jungwon stabbed a stare into each person. “We are going to have tea and forget this conversation ever came up.”

He was embarrassed to say the least. His ego had taken a step down a huge ladder, and that was enough to crumble his sense of duty.

Jiwon slithered over the icy defence and tugged him back to his seat. Obedient, he did, but her lips were in a slight pout.

“Won Bon, we can not reject that prophecy. It is important. A tradition almost,” she explained, voice somehow flattening the jagged refusal frozen in his chest.

“I know,” he said with a sigh. “But centuries have passed, and nothing has flourished from it. Quite frankly, I am beginning to deny it.”

The table became smoky with a suffocating silence that drifted from his brittle confession. In that moment, Jiwon sent a desperate plea to her husband via their gazes. Jihoon exhaled, leaning forward with steepled fingers on the table.

“Look, Jungwon, it may not come true. I know. But if tension rises and we need a new ability, then it is going to have to be an option,” he declared in the voice that directed junior reapers to be merciless. Jungwon felt the small part of him shrink under his gaze.

He was of age. He always shaped himself for whatever form duty came as. But, marriage? To the person who sliced his ego within hours? It was a disturbing revelation he couldn’t settle with.

Marriage itself scared him. Having to care and tend to someone other than himself. The furthest he doted on someone was his mother and father. If anything happened to them, it would be a failure of his whole existence.

The prophecy sat on his mind, perched like a crow ready to pick at him at a ready moment.

── ⋮ ꒰ঌ ໒꒱ˎˊ˗ ✿

IT HAD BEEN NINE DAYS SINCE YOU WON AGAINST JUNGWON IN THAT TRIAL.

Ever since then, you were working shift after shift. That had only been because there was an influx of bodies coming in, and then dying a few hours later when no one could save them. Grim Reapers came and went, and that had been the reminder of what you had won, and who you had shot down.

It was normal for Reapers to come to the ward you worked in, but there had been a cluster at the beginning of the week, discussing in a secret huddle before departing the Healer’s ward again. Not a single word to you. And even your parents were sceptical as to why they kept coming and going.

Today was a Sunday and still an awfully productive day.

The Healer’s ward had pale blue walls, warm lights sprinkling down the rooms, and beds kept together with a curtain separating each other. The beds had referred, unconscious patients sleeping on them, their souls on a clear display for Bearers.

One man had just been wheeled into the curtain section, and you were there, scrolling on your tablet, examining his details. The man was in his twenties, had a clean-cut wound to his side, which was thankfully stitched up before the man’s condition deteriorated, and he was very much passed out.

But not dead. His soul, in your eyes, was a flickering ball of smoke that glowed silver and blue, floating over the man like it was confused. It connected to the main by a wispy string that emerged from his chest.

Placing the tablet down, you conjured your wand from your right hand, the bracelet shifting colours until it formed. Your wand was pale blue and pink, bedazzled with shimmering gems climbing the wood until it hit the core. There, two clear bands spanned to a heart shape, which had wisps shifting within them. At the centre of the heart, a pink mist gem glowed with life even in shadows.

You had just about clutched it when a cold prickle suddenly arose at the back of your neck. In an instant, you whipped around and flinched as Jungwon appeared like lightning.

In all his glory, he stood over you with broad shoulders fitted in his charcoal Reaper attire, silver adorning his torso in small chains. His hair was wavy, falling just above his feline gaze where obsidian sat heavily with scrutiny, taking you in wholly. He held a scythe as tall as him, sharp-bladed and curved at the top, while the snath had a glassy texture with shadowy storms shifting underneath.

You swallowed, clutching your wand like a weapon at your tight chest. “Lord Yang?” You forced your shoulders to deflate.

Jungwon didn’t blink as he tried to match your initial encounter to the one right before him. Except, he was confused because they didn’t match at all.

“Lady Sim.” He nodded once without straying from the scrutiny.

He was still judging you, you noted.

“Can I help you with anything? You are in the Healer’s ward,” you said, steadying your voice from the initial icy anxiety. Jungwon raised an amused brow as he noted your nervous tics that jumped into your heartbeat.

How did he lose to you, he wondered.

“Yes. I assume you noticed the bodies coming into the hospital?” He asked, gaze travelling over the man behind you, and past the curtains, counting the exact number in this room alone without seeing them. His scythe was practically fuelling the innate urge to take the souls already.

Jungwon was a Grim Reaper—he couldn’t be blamed.

You nodded, trying to connect the dots. “Yes. I assume you know something?”

“There have been a few accidents recently. All around the border and without explanation. They died without witnesses and under abnormal circumstances,” he explained, nudging his chin to the man over your uniformed shoulder. The soul, to Jungwon, was a sphere carrying dark, shifting mist that he could gauge the weight of. More weight meant the soul bore too much to stay alive.

Jungwon wished it was, but you were right there with sympathy that he couldn’t be bothered to understand.

“So, are they victims of the same crime?” You asked curiously.

“From what I can see, possibly. Lord Jongseong and I are in charge of the case, but there hasn’t been much progress.” He stepped closer to the man, and you followed until you and he faced the victim. “I can never seem to get an actual statement. A very empty file, you could imagine.”

“You want to question him, then?” You inquired, wand already gleaming in your palms. Jungwon stood just at your shoulder, scythe distanced, and gave a simple nod for the go.

The tip of your wand levelled with the flickering, misty sphere, connecting to the threads of magic reaching your fingertips. The soul flickered again, hooking onto the wand’s core as you steadily guided it towards the man’s chest. The light disappeared into him, colour flourishing through his skin once more as you retracted your wand. The heart monitor was stable. You watched the man’s face intently for the slightest action.

After a few seconds, the man’s eyes fluttered open to the hospital ceiling with a foggy gaze. You were a blob of colour above him, shifting back to give him space. That movement itself exposed Jungwon and his friend. The mist left his vision when the dark, metal scythe undeniably came into view like an unsaid threat.

His eyes shot wide with panic, screaming.

Jungwon’s brows sank with offence. You gently pushed the man back into the bed, trying to hush his terror from reaching the other sleeping patients.

“Sir, you’re in the hospital,” you said over his pitchy breaths. He sputtered, pointing a shaky finger in the same direction, and you realised he was terrified of the scythe.

Jungwon was stony, not seeing the problem. You shot a desperate look.

“Can you put that away?” You asked deftly, shoulders deflating.

Jungwon sighed at the hindrance, but let the scythe fall to dark dust that ran up his fingers and formed the cuff again. Crossing his arms, totally unimpressed, he approached the cowering man hiding behind his blanket.

You rolled your eyes. Empathy wasn’t one of Jungwon’s pillars.

“Lord Yang is only here to question you,” you assured the man, peeling the blanket back a little. Instantly, he pulled it back to his chin, staring with wide, unbridled fear at Jungwon.

“So… I’m not dying?” He croaked.

“No, I’m not here for that,” Jungwon spoke, his voice a low tone of ridicule. “I need a statement from before you passed out.”

The man swallowed hard, eyes fluttering profusely as he sorted through the memories. Even then, there was a foggy confusion in place as he slumped into the bed. His anxiety practically rippled over your skin like a tide.

“I was taking a walk. I l-live near that path. I always took that path. And then, I felt something cold when I was about to enter the forest area.” He shuddered, eyes screwing shut as he relived the pain. “Something hit me from behind. And then… I woke up here.”

An attack, clearly. Aside from his initial theory of string suicides, this was the first person with an alternate reason. He wasn’t exactly relieved because if someone were having it out for random civilians, then fear would erupt from every corner of the land. On the other hand, keeping it a secret was just as dangerous.

“We shall let you rest, Sir,” you said softly before picking up your tablet and exiting his space. You drew the curtain shut behind Jungwon as he followed.

It was just you and him now.

His hand flexed, gaze drifting to the rest of the curtains within the room. A soul was dying. He knew you could feel it too. For you, it was a spark switching off in the circuit of your chest.

Jungwon glanced with a tinge of mockery. “Can I take the soul for death?” He asked, tilting his head in this infuriatingly smug way.

“Yes, you can,” you replied, voice sharpening. “I do, however, think you are a bit salty, Lord Yang.”

Your brief boldness stirred something in his hollow gaze. Straightening to his height, Jungwon returned your haughty stare with a burning one of his own. “Salty? No, I just want to do my job, Lady Sim.” He leaned in slightly, making you tip your chin to follow his mirrored stubbornness. “You wound me.”

Before you could react to his vain words, he walked past like a shadow, leaving you there with your own breath caught in the web of your chest.

What an asshole.

── ⋮ ꒰ঌ ໒꒱ˎˊ˗ ✿

THE PARKS DID NOT HAVE GOOD NEWS.

“Lady Yunah threatened you?” Jungwon sighed, trying to decrypt what Lady Somin was doing. His fingers dug into the side of the armchair, anxiety brewing in small doses. Methodically, his index finger tapped the fancy fabric. “I thought it was a friendly talk?”

Somin sighed, sitting opposite Jungwon and his parents. “It was. But, you know how impulsive Jay is,” she explained with prickling guilt. It wasn’t good enough. He jeopardised a whole route Jungwon planned, and now, he had to craft another as if the week wasn’t busy enough.

“It sounded like an accusation, I have to admit,” she said, fiddling with her Reaper cuff snug on her wrist. She was here alone since Jongseong was still in the foreign land of fire and water, out for investigations.

Jungwon didn’t bother to focus on that. What he was focusing on was how the foundations of this murder case were already crumbling before he started.

Jiwon, beside him, tutted despite the softness brimming in her eyes. “Somin…”

“I know. They did not appreciate it, obviously, and denied having anything to do with it,” she explained, gaze dipping with worry.

“So, we have gotten nowhere,” Jihoon clarified, voice also flooded with exasperation, rubbing his one temple.

It was nothing. After a week of potential murder victims, the only scrap Jungwon collected was the short statement that added nothing to the bigger picture. He had dust in his case file. Nothing was coming together.

The talk went bad as well. Tensions were arising. Jungwon felt the proposition ghost over the room before anyone said it. His guts twisted.

“We still have the prophecy,” Somin reminded meekly.

There it was. Exhaling with denial bolted into his words, he spoke. “There must be other options other than diving straight into marriage?”

“Jungwon, what else can be done?” Somin interjected the way a mother would scold a child and harshly steer them in a direction. The sympathy was a feather in her gaze, and it reached his parents, tickling them into a contemplative silence.

He tensed, disbelief striking his spine into a straight pin.

“Mother, Father, you cannot be considering marriage—”

“Son…” Jihoon began in a tone that corroded the walls of his confidence. “It has almost been two weeks since the murders have arisen in the city, and there is not one lead. Most of the victims are dead, there are no witnesses, and CCTV were absent in all places.”

Jungwon’s refusal and panic intertwined into a tight noose as he saw the direction of this. They were agreeing with Somin and the drastic jump to such a resolution. Contempt pricked him like shards. They always had to let the Parks have a say in a decision and colour the bigger picture where Jungwon didn’t need them.

“What if you had a union with… Lady Sim, and unlocked an ability to help solve this?” Jihoon suggested, creeping into territory that had Jungwon clenching his jaw.

“It is a gamble, Father,” Jungwon interjected, exhaling another stream of trapped protests.

“I know that, Son. But what if it worked? It would not be so bad,” Jihoon remarked with a softness that was overridden by Jungwon’s flaming disagreement.

Jiwon softly touched Jungwon’s arm, rubbing encouragement into his elbow. Jungwon’s gaze dipped before he could burn his family to ashes.

“Even if the prophecy does not work, you are of age, Jungwon,” said Somin. Jungwon chained his curt gaze to the table rather than the Park sitting before him, trying to convince him that this was normal. “And those bodies can be stored in my husband’s freezer at the GRA mortuary.”

Jungwon nodded on the outside. On the inside, he wanted to die, but unfortunately for him, Grim Reapers held an inhuman strength that shielded them from Death.

“Won Bon, don’t be so upset. Lady Sim could introduce a whole new perspective to you. And I would get a daughter!” Jiwon assured, smiling gently. Jungwon stiffened at those words. Ice hammered into his ribs, making it harder to breathe as he shut his eyes in the silence. Until his sternum cleared, he swallowed hard as it passed.

Jungwon had a duty, and this was his next one.

—

YOU WERE RUNNING.

Running from your parents, that was.

Through the winding hospital halls and bewildered patients, you just about made it to the reception when your mother snagged your elbow. It sent you yelping as she hauled you to the counter. On your other arm, your father steadied you and didn’t let go. Both were breathing hard, disbelief staining their usual understanding.

“Sim Y/n! How dare you run from your own parents?!” She exclaimed, thoroughly out of breath as she placed a hand on her chest.

“It is not my fault when you are chasing me with an absurd proposal!” You frowned, shooting both of them an exasperated look. You tried to keep quiet, but your panic was clearly crossing the boundaries. “Of course, I am going to run!”

“The Yangs contacted us—”

“And?” You retorted sharply, tugging at your arms, but they were stuck. “You are listening to them over your own daughter?” You scoffed incredulously.

Both of your parents sighed in unison. Your mother was the one to huff. “You are worse than Jaeyun at listening.”

You gaped. “I am not—”

“The point is, Y/n, you are of age, the prophecy exists, and they sent us a proposal to meet,” your father interfered with your useless argument.

“Depending on a prophecy is a silly reason to wed. This is my life,” you bristled, voice dropping into deep lament, eyes desperate. It wasn’t fair that they were unleashing this on you.

Your mother released your arm with a sigh to tuck a strand behind your ear. “I know, my love, but you are the highest-ranking Soul Bearer of age. I would advise Jake, but…” Your mother trailed off, giving an uncertain sideways glance.

“He likes Heeseung?” You sulked.

“Yes, he’s hopeless.” Your father sighed. “He must have been bewitched—”

“Yoon Darling,” your mother chastised with a sideways glare. Your father nodded, but that thought was still clouding his mind.

“Just give it a chance. Meet him, see if there is something, and if there isn’t, then we’ll let it go,” she explained, doing nothing to convince you. The anxiety still lingered around your chest, prickling you with everything that could go wrong.

Then came the thought that you weren’t just a daughter anymore. You also had to act your part of the duty no matter how much you didn’t want to. It was just that marriage was a level up from where you were now.

There was nothing you could do. Not when your parents were still stringing along this expectation so you could follow. Well, if meeting Jungwon, who was too salty for his own good, was the solution, then you had to try.

── ⋮ ꒰ঌ ໒꒱ˎˊ˗ ✿

THE YANG ESTATE WAS TOO BIG.

It wasn’t anything you hadn’t seen before. Your own home was lavish and generous with its high ceilings and comfortable warm tones, but this was another level of luxury.

Jungwon’s home was different shades of golden and cream.

You and your family were sitting in a huge lounge with yellow patterned walls, with five floor-to-ceiling windows letting in the noon sunshine. The room was adorned with drawers and tables of delicate little knick-knacks that probably were touched once in their entire lifespan, and the camelback couch you were sitting on had pillows softer than a single feather.

You could feel it behind your back right now. Under your ivory dress with green embroidered leaves on the bodice, you marvelled at how soft everything was here. The dress you wore had fluttering sleeves that rippled down your legs, intricate lace details drawing attention to you like a cloud lone in a blue sky.

You didn’t want to wear something so… formal and extravagant, but your mother ignored you and paired emerald earrings with a long chain to the back of your half-tied hair. In summary, you felt overdressed for such a meeting.

Your mother was on your right, your father on your left, and Jaeyun was sitting alone on another couch.

Thinking it over now, you wondered how you ended up here. You weren’t great at talking to people. Your closest friends were Minju from your school life, and Heeseung, who had sunshine for a personality.

Heeseung would have beamed at you in this gown, and told you to go all in for the opportunity. He saw no wrongs in a situation, and found positivity in anything. Heeseung was as shy as you, so connecting was easier than with anyone else you had met. Other than the two of them, your own mind chained you away from socialising freely.

It was why, even now when Jungwon was imminent on entering the same space, you felt the steel anxiety drill into your joints, making it momentarily hard to move. You tried to sit straight. Then, you kept your eyes ahead and then dropped the strings when it felt too real like this.

“You look like you are about to shit yourself—”

Your mother glared at Jaeyun. “Language.”

“I was just saying.” He sheepishly smiled, fluffy hair already disobeying the earlier hair brushing. He was as serious as a marshmallow. You couldn’t find comfort from him.

In the posh peace of this lounge, it hit you like thunder that you were about to meet with Death himself. You almost flinched back to reality.

The door handle jostled and opened at the thunder in your back. Entering was Lady Jiwon in a navy gown, Lord Yang Jihyun in a matching blue suit, and the main root of all your anxiety.

Jungwon wore pure charcoal with shimmering grey swirls woven into his blazer, with a fitted waist jacket that had a chain dangling delicately from the small breast pocket. A black tie nestled at the base of his honey throat, accentuating his stupidly broad shoulders.

It was his eyes beneath wavy hair that forced a memory of your first encounter into vision.

They were so dark, sitting like obsidian atop your face, like he wanted to carve the judgement into your skin. You had absolutely no idea what he was feeling in the void behind his irises.

His mother, you recognised as Lady Jiwon from surface-level research, approached with the most pearliest smile.

“I am so delighted everyone made it,” she exclaimed happily. Much more joyous than Jungwon. She brought Lord Yang forward, hands interlocked. “My husband, Jihoon.”

Jihoon bowed his head a little, smiling with a dimple. Did Jungwon have a dimple? “Pleasure to meet everyone.”

“We are honoured,” said your father, getting up to shake Jihoon’s hand firmly before sitting. “I am Yoon. My wife here is Mei, and Jaeyun is our elder son.”

A fluffy smile slipped past Jaeyun’s lips like instinct.

Then, Jiwon brought Jungwon forward with a small, frantic wave of her hand. Obliging to her, he slowly walked forward and bowed his head in greeting.

“Nice to meet everyone,” he murmured with a voice gripping onto control.

At your time to stand, Jiwon’s eyes sparked into fireworks as she smiled. She took your hands, thumbing over your knuckles. “You must be Lady Sim Y/n, the one my Son met in court. You are such a beauty!”

Warmth hit your cheeks. Jihoon smiled. Jungwon, on the other hand, looked like he was verifying that last bit when his eyes dragged slowly over your features.

“Thank you.”

Everyone sat down in their designated space, waiting as maids brought tea in expensive, untouchable ceramics and pastries made for display. You hadn’t moved an inch, focused on itching the anxiety out of your thumb.

You were too focused on whether you were sitting straight or slouching. Or if Jungwon was waiting for you to do that. His gaze was practically carved into your face.

Jaeyun sent a discreet smile behind his teacup, wiggling his brows that conjured a violent wave in you from his deceptive facade.

“As you know, there has been an influx of murders around the borders,” Jihoon began after a sip, dampening the atmosphere.

“Yes, Y/n told us some of it,” Yoon said, his tone dissipating from that initial joy. Silence from your end as your gaze stayed locked on the table.

Jungwon sensed the hitch in your heartbeat. It was a constantly rapid pace ever since you got here. The meeting was well past brief impressions, so he knew it wasn’t targeted at that. No. This pace had been troubling you for a while. Jungwon narrowed his investigative gaze as he sipped his tea.

In your place, your mother cleared her throat. “And, when we got the proposal, we were all…” she gave a subtle sideways glance at your sulky, lowered eyes, “… very pleased.”

Jiwon grinned. “I am glad. Won Bon—”

“Mother,” Jungwon grumbled, making Jiwon smile sheepishly. You caught the distaste when you briefly met eyes. Sheepishly, she smiled in a way that smoothed the anxious knots in your spine.

“My Jungwon is so work-oriented. It took a while to convince him,” she said gently, ignoring Jungwon’s shrivelling nonchalance. Pink dusted his cheeks in a way that almost made him look… shy. You wanted to question how someone like him could do that.

“Oh, we had to chase our daughter down,” Yoon added impishly. The room erupted in small laughter as you stiffened at the memory. Jungwon, from the other side of the couch, slowly raised a brow, trying to imagine you running away. Warmth drowned your cheeks again as his gaze dragged over your face with flames.

You turned back to your tea.

“Jungwon is just as stubborn. When he lost the court case—”

Jungwon straightened, gaze whipping to his father. “The Prophecy… please.”

Jihoon smiled, expecting it. “Right. We proposed this because of the well-known prophecy. Currently, there are no leads, no evidence indicating a clear direction. We hoped unlocking the ability would possibly help solve it all,” Jihoon explained, too serious for the denial homed in your head.

“Even if the ability doesn’t help the murder cases, it is still special if it is known to us,” Jiwon added with a signature smile.

None of this made sense to you. The protests were already burning your tongue, observing how they must have already made their decisions. It was unfair. However, you had to people-please everyone.

Delivering what they expected of you to gain a shred of validation. Working in the hospital as a Soul Bearer and handling the delicate packages of life meant no mistakes. The fragile version of yourself you crafted for them was nothing without being right. Soul Bearing made it clear that it shouldn’t even be a scenario in your head.

The conversation droned on about union possibility, about working together, and new perspectives. Each one had you holding your voice as fate was strategised in front of you. Jungwon was silent as you were, his hand flexing momentarily because the whole thing strengthened his sense of duty again.

One more level for both you and him.

“We shall let you two converse,” Mei said, squeezing your shoulder softly in encouragement. You felt anything but that.

Jihoon sent a look to Jungwon that said to “be kind”, and then was the one to close you and him into the lounge.

The door clicked shut. Silence hung between you since it was much more comforting than to confront whatever was going to happen in the near future.

Discomfort invaded your nerves and forced you to trace the neatly-cut portraits and sunlight peeking through the fluttering curtains. He was still probing your face from afar.

“Do you like summer?” Jungwon asked in a low voice, following your gaze to his sunny windows. He leaned back, a leg crossed over the other, a head tilted with increasing interest.

“I think so. However, I do not like it for so long.” You glanced away from the intense void sitting in his eyes. He raised an inquisitive brow.

“Strange words,” he commented dryly.

“Meaning?” You returned, gaze narrowing.

“Meaning what do you like then?” Jungwon crossed his arms, capturing your eyes within one second. A skip flashed through your heart at his attention.

You glanced at the glass windows once more. “Every season, but not for a long period. Except Spring. It rains too much.”

Jungwon’s lips twitched in amusement at your absurdity, but he remembered he wasn’t supposed to be laughing at you like a comrade. He was still petty over the lost trial, and that alone smoothed his emotions straight.

“I like Spring,” he stated, blinking in a way that was far too serious. “I like the rain.”

Your smirk was subtle and swift. “Of course you do.”

“What do you mean by that?” Jungwon now remarked quietly, his small glare carving into you.

“Spring rain never goes away. Like your grudges, Lord Yang,” you answered, letting go of decorum now. His face fell, nonchalance unravelling right before your eyes as he leaned forward, as if he could physically dig into your mind.

“The Spring rain is a transitional period where the blooms are born after a hard winter.” Jungwon steepled his fingers.

“How poetic.” You cracked the smallest, incredulous smile before reality pulled at your chest once more. This wasn’t some enjoyable meeting with Death. It was a negotiation for marriage.

You hesitantly met his eyes. The hostility wasn’t as present anymore, but there was still a boundary stopping you from seeing his emotions on the other side. He was staring too. There was no hiding about it.

“How are we supposed to fulfil something almost imaginary?” You asked quietly, fingers digging into your lap.

“I don’t know,” he replied after a few quiet seconds. It was a gamble, and he knew you knew it too. Some common ground there.

“Then, what does it entail? To… make this prophecy true?” You asked carefully. Your parents never told you in full how one connected to it. All you knew was that a wand and scythe were needed for it.

His gaze wandered a little before landing on you like he was trying to creep into the territory without scaring you. “My parents have said it a few times…” He got to his feet, cautiously approaching with a generous slowness. “We need to let the wand and scythe touch, and they say you fall into a ‘trance’…” he stopped for a contemplative second, searching.

You spared a look at his shadowy cuff that shone. “Or?”

“Some say in bed,” he stated casually.

“What?” You exclaimed with pinched brows.

He shut his eyes regretfully before opening them. “Not like that. I mean, in a sleep state in bed. You know how sleep works, right?”

“When we sleep, our souls are detached from the body.” You nodded.

“That means, outside the body, our souls can interact. That is one of the ways.” He watched as you stood and began to saunter to the big windows. Following, he scanned the curve of your waist, how your hair draped flawlessly behind your back, and the delicate jewel sat in the sea of your strands.

He strolled along until he lingered behind you.

You realised how stupidly tall he was. “What happens when you… take a soul for death?”

Jungwon was surprised at your interest, considering you wanted to burn holes into his head the other day, but he looked past your face and to the florals bobbing by in the wind outside.

“When I’m delivering them to death, I go to this specific place. Death Meadow is what I call it. Dark, vast—a field, and it’s where Reapers go,” Jungwon replied, recalling the dim skies and the long grass brushing his knees.

You frowned. “Is that all it looks like?”

“Did you expect a castle?” He mused, his deep voice rippling down your spine.

“A field is hardly exciting,” you mumbled, crossing your arms almost in defence. He chuckled curtly.

“Death is hardly exciting,” he said back quietly. Your profile exposed the curve of your nose, or your lips, which, he had to admit, complemented your… facial harmony.

“I know,” you muttered back, sighing. After a few terse seconds, you rolled out your right hand, letting the bracelet morph into the signature wand. “We should try, shouldn’t we?”

Jungwon’s chest swelled with the anticipation of it. If there was something, though he didn’t know what, then a marriage was inevitable. A wedding. A life with you. The person he had nearly cursed out loud sixteen days ago. Thinking back to it, maybe he was overreacting, but then the thought crumbled as his ego ached.

You watched his face shift with thoughts, probably knowing how real this all was. The finality hammered through your chest until breathing felt tiring. This was it. And there was only one way to find out.

Wordlessly, you inched the wand forward towards his scythe, ignoring the apprehension twisting violently in your guts.

You shared a look that he mirrored: this would seal their fates into one path.

The scythe touched first. Blade met gem, and instantly, a heavy wave rippled from your chest to the base of your spine, activating some other part within you had no experience with. It thrummed in your ears and smoked the space behind your eyes. Bewildered, you glanced at Jungwon and froze when his irises glowed.

No void. His eyes had a corona of something white that haunted his now brown irises. He looked personal. Human. Normal.

Jungwon’s breath hitched as blue slithered and lit your own eyes homed the mist that felt as if they had always been there in the shadows. Inside, his body rattled like fabric shifting over one another, creating friction and warmth that was too energetic to handle.

You departed first, wand clutched to your chest with ferocity. Jungwon’s scythe fell back into a cuff, catching his curt breath that escaped his control. The silence was a sentence on both you and him before Jungwon sighed.

“You felt that, did you not?” He asked, eyes averted.

You nodded once. “Yes.” Your tone was eroded by anxiety.

“And you know what that means?” He glanced at you again, where acceptance was absent from your stance. Your shoulders were stiff when you tentatively returned his gaze, which was a void once more. “My parents shall talk to yours. For a union.”

He turned, ready to walk out, but your uncertainty followed after him a few steps. “Do you want to get married?” You couldn’t help it. This whole thing had to be turning his axis too.

That made him stop, shoulders shifting beneath like he was preparing a practised answer. It was a second late. A second of hesitance you spotted in yourself. You thought he would be real for a second, but he straightened like a stone wall again.

“I don’t have to want to. I need to,” he answered in a resolved tone before continuing his stride towards the closed doors. His heart protested in angry stomps, which he ignored.

You felt it, however. His worth anchored his shoulders, fragile as it was huge on him. It curled, a monster he efficiently tucked away.

That was enough to tell you he wasn’t going to back out.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━˚₊‧꒰ა ♡ ໒꒱‧₊˚━━━━━━━━━━━━━

── .✦ [NOTES]: okay, did yall like this? You can tell I gave up in the end with proof reading this. Also, I am on holiday, but I had no wifi for a bit, and now I do. So, I haven't written anything LMFAO. But, even then, I hope you guys liked this! <3

ᯓ [DREAM LIBRARY] °❀⋆.ೃ ᐟ.ᐟ

⌗.ᐟ M.LIST >>

⊹₊꒷︶꒷꒦‧₊˚⊹︰꒷

┃⿻ ╰┈➤ TAGLIST: OPEN

ᴛᴀɢʟɪꜱᴛ : @soyyiiu @won1yoiz @yangbreads @t-rex-12 @itsstarynights @jungwonisme @kjunebuggie @stealerrrrsstuff @ughsoannoying @melancholatte @zino-yoon @xozerose @orngejuic-io

The last thing he wanted to do was debate whether he could do his job of taking a soul. His whole life revolved around knowing when a body was ready for death, not for battling it. Jungwon could read a fading heartbeat when close, so getting a court case was an insult to his work.

In the case, a middle-aged man had a terrible accident and sustained injuries all over, enough for him to fall into the fragile hands of a coma. Six months was the monitoring period for a body to be observed, but after that? Grim Reapers would get involved.

Jungwon had his head straight and was happy to take the soul and gain a rank. But then, a dispute had landed in his office, infuriatingly so.

An abominable dispute challenged his objective. It meant having to go to court and contest whether to pull life support or keep the man steady in sleep.

It dampened his whole week.

Even now, as he left behind the crowd cursing him out at the front, Jungwon strolled by the court walls like it was his crafted path, knowing exactly where to go. The public meant nothing to him because, to them, he was a heartless monster that fed off people’s souls.

Of course, Jungwon didn’t feed off souls. He had no care for who he took and what happened once he closed the doors, so he really felt all those insults bounce off his back.

He trained for that. Every acidic remark thrown, he learned to wash it off before it could ever burn. He had to. When being the heir to taking over the GRA, it was key to tune out everyone’s useless opinions and go with his gut. And his gut was where his duty was shaped.

His father, Yang Jihoon, taught him that. He ingrained it in Jungwon’s head. And he was supposed to be here.

The hallway was filled with several court officials talking among clients, but none were his father. Despite the push to learn punctuality, his father never practised it.

Whatever. Jungwon sauntered to his assigned courtroom and pushed the doors open to the grand, brown interior.

There was a raised platform at the front for the judge, two long tables parallel to each other from opposite sides of the room, and the lower gallery consisted of seats arranged in rows until it hit the main door. The upper panel had glass windows to accommodate more secretive observers.

It wasn’t empty. Among the lower gallery, a woman who matched the victim’s age sat with her shoulders hunched, eyes cloudy with grief. She looked as if she was curling into a seated, dejected ball. Beside her was an elderly couple, whom he only assumed to be the parents. In a mirroring figure, they leaned on each other, frowns anchored with apprehension.

Jungwon paid them no mind as he sat down, finally setting his eyes on who dared to dispute his claim. Except he paused the stream of thoughts when he saw you.

You sat with perfectly aligned shoulders controlled beneath the smoothest white shirt he had ever seen. Those were tucked into the baby blue skirt reaching the top of your knees. The pleats looked strictly ironed and straight. And he almost scoffed at the white stockings with matching pale blue bows delicately atop your knees like you were pulling attention in the little ways. Your shoes weren’t dramatic. They were reserved flats that probably swallowed sounds before they made one.

You didn’t stop writing. Your pen flew across the paper, writing some nonsense, he imagined, and didn’t take a break. Not even to look at him.

Jungwon slowly frowned a fraction, his own index finger tapping the table methodically as he processed the strict line of your lips and how your eyes simply followed the flow of the ink. It felt unnerving. So, he tapped into your heartbeat.

Easygoing pace with a slight hitch, as if it knew it was being spied on. Jungwon couldn’t spot the nervousness on your face if that was what your heart was translating. It confused him, so he glanced to where your right hand was adorned with a spiral of gems coloured baby blue and pink before it shaped a heart, and extended into rings that hugged each finger.

Jungwon tilted his head. On his own fidgeting hand, there was a metal cuff, running with black runes beneath that spoke of the deaths it aided. His own cuff grew out, extended into rings for each finger. It was where his scythe stayed when he didn’t want it present. It gravely helped with walking around in public without conjuring fear.

The only difference between him and you was that you were a Soul Bearer.

The exact opposite to who he was.

Instead of taking life, they delivered them; instead of scanning heartbeats, they sensed emotion through the ripple and weight of energy; they also boosted souls and encouraged them back into bodies, bringing colour to cheeks again.

Jungwon loathed them because they brought him here. To this arid courtroom where it reeked of tears and bad news.

It didn’t disturb you in the slightest. Uninterrupted, you kept scribing whatever nonsense, possibly breaking down whatever hurdle he was about to chuck your way. As if you knew.

How stupid.

Jungwon halted the finger tapping and opened his laptop, beginning to open his notes and read them with burning eyes. This particular time, he felt like he was going to have to recite everything verbatim to break through that stoic shield of yours.

Eventually, court officials lined the benches, had their notepads out, and the writers were organised. The judge had her glasses on, making everyone rise before it all commenced.

A flicker brewed in Jungwon’s nerves, making his fingers dance again. Cooling it down, he stood and walked around to present his argument. Only then did you meet his gaze.

Oh, you had this stupidly sweet gaze, scanning him so thoroughly as if he was a dream all in your head. But his feline eyes were heavy with his own judgement as it carved into your skin, taking in your features for memory. Finally, you surrendered back to rewriting the ink on your paper.

Jungwon refrained from a smug smirk and faced the judge instead of the grieving family. He learned the hard way that facing the gallery earned a strong tide of glares as a Grim Reaper.

“I will repeat the rule for everyone that the hospital has set forth,” Jungwon said, not bothering to face you, who probably knew this fact already. “The hospital has a six-month period where the patient is monitored while comatose. After that, Grim Reapers are allowed to take the soul once it reaches six months.”

Someone sniffled in the room, and pens scribbled on paper.

“Under the Grim Reaper’s Association, I argue that keeping him in the hospital will not benefit him any further.” He cast a final look at the judge. The heartbeats around him practically hammered with disagreement and hidden insults, but Jungwon sat back down and let his words sink in.

Logical and curt. His very way of working.

The counterargument started with you. The flats made no sound, gaze drifting to the crowd rather than to him. A tactic he found didn’t work in his favour. For you, however, the elderly couple and wife had a sparkle in their teary eyes. In your hand was a pen, thumb repeatedly rubbing the lid to occupy your nervous tick.

Your heartbeat, he found, was still being restrained with great effort.

“Mr Kim suffered several injuries in the car accident,” you began, the cadence of your voice reserved, a practised path with no gaps between. “However, over the months, he has displayed great improvement. His wounds are healing, and his vitals are stable.”

Repeating the case—also another strategy you put forth to remind everyone why you weren’t the ‘bad’ one here.

“His soul, as Reapers and Bearers can see, is still connected to him. Keeping him alive is a perfect opportunity to encourage his soul to return to the body. We have a specialised ward for it, which my family primarily work in,” you explained, growing more firm. Then, you finally hooked your attention on him, your thumb now harshly digging into the ridge of the pen lid.

His gaze was obsidian and endless, and staring would only lose your train of thought. Apart from his subtle frown, you squared your shoulders a little and faced the contempt sewn into his brows.

“I agree that six months is the observational period; however, with Mr Kim’s improvement, he can gain a sense of his soul again. It is the last step,” you said, trying very hard to stay on his gaze. It was like a black flame that you had never seen before, but you were too afraid to explore.

Jungwon didn’t move to make a note. He was too busy dealing with your hidden audacity to spell this case out for him with baby steps. He understood all of this, of course, but keeping a corpse in a ward was hardly productive. The thought was cruel and strict, but he knew nothing other than that.

“For patients that do not improve, it is another situation entirely. For Mr Kim, it is a chance. And, I think his family would be pleased that this last step is the one to take, and the one that could break his coma.” You finally swerved gazes to the judge, smiling a little before sitting down.

Jungwon felt like your argument wasn’t even much. It was a few sentences bedazzled with empathy before being given to the gallery and court officials to write.

His heart began to drum with animosity. It was a speed he couldn’t chain back, and it ran against his ribs. Not because you were better, but because he felt as if everyone else was going to side with you. There was no jury, but he had a gut feeling that wrapped ivy around his spine.

No. He shoved that whole feeling beneath soil and mentally stomped on it. You were just a glorified empath.

As the minutes ticked on, you and Jungwon were heaving arguments back and forth. You, however, had thorns gradually growing in your tone. Each piece he gave, you returned it with another sharp counterattack, and you were growing sulky, even. He had focused too much on the sunken brows that aided your frustration with him, and the way you met his gaze head-on with a crash when talking back to him.

That initial restrained heartbeat was slower now, but burned strong with annoyance.

“If he wanted to come back to his body, his soul would’ve returned and awakened him.”

“A wound does not heal so easily either.”

“There are no specific steps to bring a soul back except by healing. And there is no guarantee there either.” Jungwon’s gaze narrowed.

“Lord Yang, what benefit does taking a soul away do other than giving you an increase of rank?” You glared at him, all soft fury with a tone that skidded against his ears. Your heartbeat fluttered, sinking once more with the light downturn of your lip.

Jungwon had his comment ready. Leaning forward with those feline eyes full of hollow understanding, he spoke.

“Lady Sim, I would love to give a lecture on my job and how it helps our nation, but the hour is coming to an end. All I have to say is that I abide by the rules given.” He sat back with his relaxed, intertwined fingers on his lap, smug. “That is the strongest argument one can give.”

That last comment forced you to avert your burning eyes to the ink on the page, recalling the calm strokes you had written before getting all worked up.

Recess arrived shortly after that. It was a thirty-minute period that allowed Jungwon to sit in a room with bare, cream walls, a few couches, and a huge window broadcasting bobbing flowers and a trickling fountain in silence.

All too idyllic for such a place adopting stress, he thought.

The door opened behind the armchair he rested on.

“Son!” His father’s voice flinched him from the calm petals.

“Father.” Jungwon nodded. Jihoon was slightly taller and wore the routine blue blazer and pants with a jolly stroke of colour on his face. His features were a frame for innate joy and twin dimples.

“Soul Bearer case?” Jihoon asked, sitting down opposite Jungwon.

To that, he nodded, the initial exasperation filling his head with aggravating smoke. “A waste of time, really?”

“She’s just doing her job, Son.”

“Taking up hospital beds with corpses is not productive in any sense,” Jungwon corrected, flexing his cuffed hand as if he could imagine his scythe’s hunger for a soul. Calming that pang into a gentle ache, Jungwon sighed, staring once more at the silent nature outside.

“Don’t be envious, Won. It is not a good sight on you.”

“I always look like this.” Jungwon raised a bitter brow.

“Exactly.” Jihoon raised his brows in return, making Jungwon realise that his parental figure was not so serious about this. Jungwon wished he could be as loose, but that was all before when expectations weren’t premature, and when duty had a schedule.

“I was watching,” Jihoon added impishly.

“You did?” Jungwon inquired. That didn’t help alleviate the pressure to win.

“Of course. I wouldn’t miss it,” he replied, face turning a little brave as he spared a glance at Jungwon. “And, I must say, she is quite a match—”

“Father,” Jungwon said with a deep, contemptuous sigh. “Not this again.”

Jihoon pursed his lips, trying very hard to choose his words without it blowing a fuse in the process. “I never said anything about the prophecy.”

“You were thinking it,” Jungwon exclaimed, gesturing wildly with a single hand. “You made that face.”

“I did not.”

“You did. You did that stupid thing with your lips,” Jungwon pointed out, eyes shiny with pins of refusal. Jihoon broke into a sigh.

“Can you blame me? You are the heir to the highest-ranking Death Lineage, and Lady Sim Y/n happens to be the highest-ranking Soul Bearer,” Jihoon explained, voice lowering from that joy to something stern. “I did my research in the session.”

Jungwon wasn’t having it as his cuffed hand flexed into a fist, determined to cling to his refusal. “You are depending on a centuries-long prophecy that has barely come to fruition. What makes you think it is me and… her?”

“You two are alike,” Jihoon countered.

“We absolutely are not!” Jungwon argued, suddenly on his feet. It was probably getting late. Desperate to escape his dad, he glanced at the clock and walked with relief when he noticed that recess was coming to an end. He yanked the door open.

“I need to go, Father. The Judge would have declared a verdict now.”

“I will come with you,” his father said, already on his feet and out the door before Jungwon could blink.

As Jungwon watched his jolly father walk further away, he prayed that he would win.

── ⋮ ꒰ঌ ໒꒱ˎˊ˗ ✿

JUNGWON LOST.

The Judge kept going with his announcement. Jungwon was sure he hadn’t heard it right, but then he glanced at the family cooped in the one row flooded with relief. They had burst to their feet, rushed to the barrier, and began to thank you profusely.

A heavy denial wedged in between his ribs and stayed like a sore thumb. However, he had the habit of watching.

You smiled gently at the family, shaking their hands. Underneath, your heartbeat was a swift flutter of disbelief and happiness all at once. It began to soar while Jungwon’s heart found the common, raging rhythm, bumping with that wedge of incredulity that the verdict stabbed him with.

You dipped your head to the family, barely glanced at Jungwon, and then smiled at the Judge. As quick as that, you slipped through the staff door, disappearing like smoke after setting his whole mind on fire.

What just happened?

Jungwon hadn’t failed ever since his first trial. And that was when he was of age—eighteen. Back then, he had been under the brunt of every learned rule, every cold emotion at his first trial. Ultimately, the lack of balance had tipped him off the scale, making his delivery messy.

He had learned from that. The mistakes were studied, then erased from history because he didn’t lose one after that. Some trials consisted of investigations rather than tangling with the public’s hearts. Regardless, he had a vow.

He never lost.

Now, it was unravelling because of you. A crack in the canvas.

Jungwon stormed into the hallway, pins pricking his spine that made him want to swallow a cigarette so he could numb his blood. His father appeared by his side, matching his furious pace.

They reached the glass exit to the sprightly city where, beyond the tree line, the city bustled under a clear, blue sky. People wandered in or out of the courthouse, navigating their own proficient jobs and lives.

Jihoon stopped Jungwon from abusing any more of the floor by hooking a gentle hand on his shoulder. “You are taking this too harshly.”

Jungwon loathed that tone. It was bubble wrap for delicate situations, but Jungwon was not that. He preferred it if his father told him off for losing. He needed that lash of discipline.

“It’s not a success, is it?” Jungwon asked, sardonic as he met his father’s searching gaze.

“It was not totally useless,” Jihoon said, resigned. Jungwon glared at his father’s gabble.

“You are hopeless. This prophecy—”

“Are you saying it is fake?” Jihoon raised a brow.

Jungwon stayed silent, his jaw clenching gradually, teetering between telling his father off or being respectful. Then, he thinned his lips, glancing outwards again.

“I didn’t say that.”

The prophecy his father was infatuated with was made by a man centuries ago, claiming that two opposites would unite. Specifically, it was Life and Death. And when they did have a union, it would unlock a secret ability.

What that ability was—nobody knew.

So, it was a dangerous gamble.

“I just think that being too optimistic about something so old will do no good. Save those prayers for useful things. It could have been for my trial, but that did not come true,” Jungwon said, tilting his head with knives glinting in his eyes.

Then, before his father could stop him, Jungwon descended the stairs to where his car pulled up. Black and sleek with tinted windows when the sun was too much.

“You never know!” Jihoon said, chasing after him.

Jungwon entered the car and closed it in his father’s face.

── ⋮ ꒰ঌ ໒꒱ˎˊ˗ ✿

“A little birdie told me you won against Death himself.”

Your brother, Jaeyun, was following around with sparkles for eyes, fluffy hair, and a bright smile. However, you had no time for him right now.

Currently, you were working a shift in the Healer’s ward of the hospital, holding your tablet at the reception counter. It was fairly quiet for now, but you knew someone was bound for an emergency, and you needed your mind set before it happened. It was a trait grown through months of doing this profession.

Jaeyun wasn’t helping when he was constantly reminding you of that court trial. It was such a dream. Sure, you had delivered a stitched explanation, but beneath the mask, you were made of loose seams and tattered explanations. Usually, doing court trials didn’t bring erratic nerves, but Yang Jungwon was a star in the universe of court trials. So, finding out you were against him had forced all your thoughts to be shot clean.

“Don’t ignore me, Y/nie,” he said, leaning on the counter next to your tablet.

“Who was your birdie?” You asked, sparing a swift glance, but scrolling harder on the screen, barely reading the words.

“My husband,” Jaeyun answered with a pearly smile.

That halted your scrolling, shooting a bewildered gaze at your brother. “Please stop calling Heeseung that.”

Jake grinned, adjusting his glasses. “Nope! Heeseung is my friend, brother, and husband—”

Your brows sank with a thousand confused questions. “Brother and husband?”

“Trust me. Heeseung wouldn’t even mind,” Jake affirmed before his gaze was over your shoulder, eyes lighting up with recognition.

Heeseung had burgundy hair flopping around his sweet, doe-brown eyes where starry thoughts were born. He wore the same, neutral uniform, white and baby blue, and his wand, which had been in his hand, began to crumble into a magic mist and slither back into a cuff atop his wrist. He leaned on the same counter your crisis was short-circuiting.

“I heard my name,” Heeseung said, leaning beside you. You frowned.

“You told Jake about my trial? You were there?” You asked sulkily.

“I was actually in the upper panel. I told them I was a past client that felt too grateful to skip a trial,” Heeseung said proudly, brows raising. Jake was easily impressed, but you scoffed, nudging Heeseung with a soft palm.

“You could have told them you were my friend?”

“I like the back story—the flair it gives me,” he replied, chuckling. Both men laughed at either side of you. It was disgustingly romantic.

“Fine. I battled Lord Yang,” you began quietly, remembering the dips of anxiety you had fallen into through the court session.

“You make it sound like he tried to take you out with his scythe,” Jake mused, impish.

“It felt like it,” you shot back, nudging Jake away as he grinned like a daisy.

“You actually did really well. I couldn’t tell you wanted to die,” Heeseung commented casually. He recalled the sediments of control fueled into your straight posture, the tone of metal certainty, and your perfect reasoning. It was a win, he thought.

While you could tick the good points of the whole thing, Jungwon’s midnight glare distanced you the whole time. In fact, you were glad your skin was still intact after the whole thing. Mainly because you had lost the anxious edge in the last quarter of that argument. The rage shielded it.

Getting that exact verdict had switched the apprehension back on. You had never packed so quickly in your life.

“I never want to do that again. Nor meet him,” you admitted, rubbing the side of your head to erode the memory.

Heeseung made a sound of disagreement, crossing his arms like he just pulled a memory back into vision. You and Jake both glanced hastily.

“What?” You said, a twinge of horror twisting in your voice.

“Senior Lord Yang, his dad, by the way, was sitting across me in the upper panel. And he kept looking at you, Y/n,” Heeseung explained, eyebrows wiggling suggestively with a goofy grin.

This was going somewhere awful already. “So?”

“Don’t you know who Dada Yang is?” Heeseung asked, brows furrowed in a sudden second.

“Don’t call him that, Seung.” You grimaced.

Jake completely ignored you. “Dada Yang is the top Lord of Death. Lord Jungwon is his only heir as of now. And he is of age.” He glanced at your increasingly gloomy face. “Lord Yang Jungwon is twenty-two.”

“And you are twenty-one,” Heeseung said like clockwork. This just went downhill easily.

Their talk made your smile stiff, the appreciation for their stupid facts dying on the spot. “Guys—”

“You could be the one—” Jake tried to say.

You slammed a tempered hand on the counter, flinching both Jake and Heeseung out of their seesaw of a conversation. Both turned with bewildered gazes, clearly lacking your perspective. You straightened with locked shoulders and exasperated brows.

“No. I am not the ‘one’, okay?” You began quietly. “Quoting something so old and ridiculous is out of the question. You sound like our parents,” you chastised Jake, picking up your tablet.

It completely flew over Jake’s head. “Y/n, you can’t deny that this could be real. We deliver souls to pregnant women with wands. I don’t think anything is too ‘ridiculous’.”

“How many times have Soul Bearers and Grim Reapers tried to come together, only for the lineages never to come to fruition?” You asked them, tablet held with paling knuckles. When you received silence, you resolutely continued. “Right. There has not been any circumstance like that. Because of that, there was never a successful union.”

Heeseung and Jake stayed silent, slowly deflating from their sky-high ideas. Mischief, however, danced in Jake’s eyes as he leaned on the counter. You sulked.

“You never know!”

“Jake!”

He put his hands up in surrender. “I’m saying the truth!”

── ⋮ ꒰ঌ ໒꒱ˎˊ˗ ✿

THE PARKS WERE A CONSTANT PRESENCE IN JUNGWON’S MANOR.

Specifically, Park Jongseong, who was witty and goal-oriented; those qualities clashed with his premature trigger that would act before he fully thought.

With him were his parents. Lady Somin and Lord Sehyun were a constant force existing throughout his life. For as long as Jungwon could remember, the Parks were a second set of parents from another tree. They were so closely entwined with the Yangs that they lived only yonder from the Yang Manor, separated simply by a cobblestone path.

Today, everyone gathered for tea in the Yang garden. It was behind the glorious manor that stood like a palace, underneath a cream marquee where manicured foliage was shaped up pillars, and where petals learned to keep off the path.

There was no use in these mundane tea moments. So, he was looking through some documentation on his tablet, still boiling from the court case from a week ago. He hadn’t seen you again, and hoped it would stay like that.

The tablet was suddenly snatched out of his arms. Jungwon jumped momentarily before snapping his eyes up, only to soften when he saw his beamy mother.

“Won Bon, you know there is no work talk at tea time,” she chastised gently, her voice the weight of petals. She faced the tablet down on the table.

Lady Jiwon, his kind and sensitive mother, was someone he couldn’t defy.

“Sorry, Mother,” he murmured. Jiwon smiled a sweet thing before sitting next to him. He could never get anything past her these days. Not even work.

Tea time was a sacred time where family bonded. It was her routine to gather everyone around this white-clothed table and talk about the most recent treasures of their lives. But the treasures were boring life events.

The glass doors to the garden opened, revealing Jihoon talking to the Parks with troubled voices.

Lord Sehyun wore something casual and meaningful, with his clean shirt and pants; Lady Somin wore her smooth gown with pin-straight black hair; Jongseong’s hair was loose, wearing all black, like Jungwon.

“Somin, was my husband keeping you late again?” Jiwon doted sweetly with a pearly smile.

Somin scoffed, subtly jabbing a thumb in her husband’s direction. “It is not all yours. My husband and Son are the same. They talk about work everywhere.”

“Just like Won Bon!” Jiwon exclaimed, nodding at Jungwon. The nickname was embarrassing despite being a source of warmth. He never told her off for it anymore. The last time he told her not to, she did it again in the next breath.

He acknowledged the Parks with a casual, murmured greeting. Then, everyone sat down in their designated spaces, letting maids pour beverages into ceramics before being left alone. His father’s frantic heartbeat was chasing something unknown, too panicked to be about something unserious. The tension tangled his father’s brows, and Jungwon couldn’t quite figure it out.

“What happened?” Jungwon asked first.

Jongseong quirked a half-impressed smile. “As diligent as ever.” He leaned in, some of that amusement draining away. “There have been bodies found near the border. And, I’m seeing a pattern.”

There had been a few souls he himself picked up before the GRA collected the body, but all that was on his confiscated tablet. From memory, the people that died had done so in freak accidents: a crushed skull here, an impaled body somewhere else, and all away from the heart of the city to where rurality made most of the location.

“I remember recording such,” Jungwon said, lifting his gaze thoughtfully. “I thought they had normal causes, non-suspicious, that is.”

“I know.” Jongseong hummed. “But all of them are near the borders. Suicide, accidents—but they all died near the same place.”

Good observation. The only detail was: where was Jongseong leading with this?

“What are you suggesting? Murder?” Jungwon asked, incredulous almost.

“It’s what the evidence dictates,” Jongseong affirmed, tension slithering into his brows. Another detail stabbed Jungwon out of the ludicrous conclusion.

Most of the people who died had nothing special to their name. They were people who barely belonged to a magical Lineage—were normal workers. They weren’t from the top of the economy or society.

“Those who died had completely normal lives. Who would want to murder them?” Jungwon let the question break the ‘no-work’ talk and displease his mother. She had gone quiet, but distaste radiated out of her tightly crossed arms.

“If it is murder, we need to investigate,” Jihoon said, tone dipping with worry.

Jongseong’s eyes gleamed with an idea. “I could ask the foreign bordering land,” he suggested. Jungwon hadn’t even processed it before Somin was nodding enthusiastically.

“That is smart. I have researcher friends on the other side. Fire Lineages,” she said, laying down the plan. “I have been meeting them a lot. They would happily house you, Jongie.”

Jungwon had one tiny protest. That proposition was based on no leads, motive, or even victims, as dark as it sounded. It was crossing a road blind for an inevitable car crash before the investigation even began.

“Before that,” Jungwon interrupted the Parks’ shared epiphany, “we need to check the areas and find clues. If it is a cause for concern, we can get the court involved—”

“Speaking of court,” Jongseong said, whipping his eyes towards Jungwon with mischief. He leaned forward, grinning in a way that made Jungwon rub his one temple. “You lost it against Soul Bearer Lady Sim!”

There it was. Jungwon exhaled something close to snapping as the Parks practically leaned over their spaces, gasping with too much curiosity for their own good. The avalanche of questions hit him instantly.

“I have heard of Lady Sim,” said Sehyun.

“She was impressive against our Jungwon,” his father rejoiced with celebration.

“Won Bon did well,” his mother chimed with glittering praise.

“Someone as powerful as her matches—” Jay had tried to say before Jungwon abruptly stood, eyes of oblivion icing each of their excited interjections into a stunned silence. Then, he slowly exhaled again.

“We are not going to talk about the prophecy.” Jungwon stabbed a stare into each person. “We are going to have tea and forget this conversation ever came up.”

He was embarrassed to say the least. His ego had taken a step down a huge ladder, and that was enough to crumble his sense of duty.

Jiwon slithered over the icy defence and tugged him back to his seat. Obedient, he did, but her lips were in a slight pout.

“Won Bon, we can not reject that prophecy. It is important. A tradition almost,” she explained, voice somehow flattening the jagged refusal frozen in his chest.

“I know,” he said with a sigh. “But centuries have passed, and nothing has flourished from it. Quite frankly, I am beginning to deny it.”

The table became smoky with a suffocating silence that drifted from his brittle confession. In that moment, Jiwon sent a desperate plea to her husband via their gazes. Jihoon exhaled, leaning forward with steepled fingers on the table.

“Look, Jungwon, it may not come true. I know. But if tension rises and we need a new ability, then it is going to have to be an option,” he declared in the voice that directed junior reapers to be merciless. Jungwon felt the small part of him shrink under his gaze.

He was of age. He always shaped himself for whatever form duty came as. But, marriage? To the person who sliced his ego within hours? It was a disturbing revelation he couldn’t settle with.

Marriage itself scared him. Having to care and tend to someone other than himself. The furthest he doted on someone was his mother and father. If anything happened to them, it would be a failure of his whole existence.

The prophecy sat on his mind, perched like a crow ready to pick at him at a ready moment.

── ⋮ ꒰ঌ ໒꒱ˎˊ˗ ✿

IT HAD BEEN NINE DAYS SINCE YOU WON AGAINST JUNGWON IN THAT TRIAL.

Ever since then, you were working shift after shift. That had only been because there was an influx of bodies coming in, and then dying a few hours later when no one could save them. Grim Reapers came and went, and that had been the reminder of what you had won, and who you had shot down.

It was normal for Reapers to come to the ward you worked in, but there had been a cluster at the beginning of the week, discussing in a secret huddle before departing the Healer’s ward again. Not a single word to you. And even your parents were sceptical as to why they kept coming and going.

Today was a Sunday and still an awfully productive day.

The Healer’s ward had pale blue walls, warm lights sprinkling down the rooms, and beds kept together with a curtain separating each other. The beds had referred, unconscious patients sleeping on them, their souls on a clear display for Bearers.

One man had just been wheeled into the curtain section, and you were there, scrolling on your tablet, examining his details. The man was in his twenties, had a clean-cut wound to his side, which was thankfully stitched up before the man’s condition deteriorated, and he was very much passed out.

But not dead. His soul, in your eyes, was a flickering ball of smoke that glowed silver and blue, floating over the man like it was confused. It connected to the main by a wispy string that emerged from his chest.

Placing the tablet down, you conjured your wand from your right hand, the bracelet shifting colours until it formed. Your wand was pale blue and pink, bedazzled with shimmering gems climbing the wood until it hit the core. There, two clear bands spanned to a heart shape, which had wisps shifting within them. At the centre of the heart, a pink mist gem glowed with life even in shadows.

You had just about clutched it when a cold prickle suddenly arose at the back of your neck. In an instant, you whipped around and flinched as Jungwon appeared like lightning.

In all his glory, he stood over you with broad shoulders fitted in his charcoal Reaper attire, silver adorning his torso in small chains. His hair was wavy, falling just above his feline gaze where obsidian sat heavily with scrutiny, taking you in wholly. He held a scythe as tall as him, sharp-bladed and curved at the top, while the snath had a glassy texture with shadowy storms shifting underneath.

You swallowed, clutching your wand like a weapon at your tight chest. “Lord Yang?” You forced your shoulders to deflate.

Jungwon didn’t blink as he tried to match your initial encounter to the one right before him. Except, he was confused because they didn’t match at all.

“Lady Sim.” He nodded once without straying from the scrutiny.

He was still judging you, you noted.

“Can I help you with anything? You are in the Healer’s ward,” you said, steadying your voice from the initial icy anxiety. Jungwon raised an amused brow as he noted your nervous tics that jumped into your heartbeat.

How did he lose to you, he wondered.

“Yes. I assume you noticed the bodies coming into the hospital?” He asked, gaze travelling over the man behind you, and past the curtains, counting the exact number in this room alone without seeing them. His scythe was practically fuelling the innate urge to take the souls already.

Jungwon was a Grim Reaper—he couldn’t be blamed.

You nodded, trying to connect the dots. “Yes. I assume you know something?”

“There have been a few accidents recently. All around the border and without explanation. They died without witnesses and under abnormal circumstances,” he explained, nudging his chin to the man over your uniformed shoulder. The soul, to Jungwon, was a sphere carrying dark, shifting mist that he could gauge the weight of. More weight meant the soul bore too much to stay alive.

Jungwon wished it was, but you were right there with sympathy that he couldn’t be bothered to understand.

“So, are they victims of the same crime?” You asked curiously.

“From what I can see, possibly. Lord Jongseong and I are in charge of the case, but there hasn’t been much progress.” He stepped closer to the man, and you followed until you and he faced the victim. “I can never seem to get an actual statement. A very empty file, you could imagine.”

“You want to question him, then?” You inquired, wand already gleaming in your palms. Jungwon stood just at your shoulder, scythe distanced, and gave a simple nod for the go.

The tip of your wand levelled with the flickering, misty sphere, connecting to the threads of magic reaching your fingertips. The soul flickered again, hooking onto the wand’s core as you steadily guided it towards the man’s chest. The light disappeared into him, colour flourishing through his skin once more as you retracted your wand. The heart monitor was stable. You watched the man’s face intently for the slightest action.

After a few seconds, the man’s eyes fluttered open to the hospital ceiling with a foggy gaze. You were a blob of colour above him, shifting back to give him space. That movement itself exposed Jungwon and his friend. The mist left his vision when the dark, metal scythe undeniably came into view like an unsaid threat.

His eyes shot wide with panic, screaming.

Jungwon’s brows sank with offence. You gently pushed the man back into the bed, trying to hush his terror from reaching the other sleeping patients.

“Sir, you’re in the hospital,” you said over his pitchy breaths. He sputtered, pointing a shaky finger in the same direction, and you realised he was terrified of the scythe.

Jungwon was stony, not seeing the problem. You shot a desperate look.

“Can you put that away?” You asked deftly, shoulders deflating.

Jungwon sighed at the hindrance, but let the scythe fall to dark dust that ran up his fingers and formed the cuff again. Crossing his arms, totally unimpressed, he approached the cowering man hiding behind his blanket.

You rolled your eyes. Empathy wasn’t one of Jungwon’s pillars.

“Lord Yang is only here to question you,” you assured the man, peeling the blanket back a little. Instantly, he pulled it back to his chin, staring with wide, unbridled fear at Jungwon.

“So… I’m not dying?” He croaked.

“No, I’m not here for that,” Jungwon spoke, his voice a low tone of ridicule. “I need a statement from before you passed out.”

The man swallowed hard, eyes fluttering profusely as he sorted through the memories. Even then, there was a foggy confusion in place as he slumped into the bed. His anxiety practically rippled over your skin like a tide.

“I was taking a walk. I l-live near that path. I always took that path. And then, I felt something cold when I was about to enter the forest area.” He shuddered, eyes screwing shut as he relived the pain. “Something hit me from behind. And then… I woke up here.”

An attack, clearly. Aside from his initial theory of string suicides, this was the first person with an alternate reason. He wasn’t exactly relieved because if someone were having it out for random civilians, then fear would erupt from every corner of the land. On the other hand, keeping it a secret was just as dangerous.

“We shall let you rest, Sir,” you said softly before picking up your tablet and exiting his space. You drew the curtain shut behind Jungwon as he followed.

It was just you and him now.

His hand flexed, gaze drifting to the rest of the curtains within the room. A soul was dying. He knew you could feel it too. For you, it was a spark switching off in the circuit of your chest.

Jungwon glanced with a tinge of mockery. “Can I take the soul for death?” He asked, tilting his head in this infuriatingly smug way.

“Yes, you can,” you replied, voice sharpening. “I do, however, think you are a bit salty, Lord Yang.”

Your brief boldness stirred something in his hollow gaze. Straightening to his height, Jungwon returned your haughty stare with a burning one of his own. “Salty? No, I just want to do my job, Lady Sim.” He leaned in slightly, making you tip your chin to follow his mirrored stubbornness. “You wound me.”

Before you could react to his vain words, he walked past like a shadow, leaving you there with your own breath caught in the web of your chest.

What an asshole.

── ⋮ ꒰ঌ ໒꒱ˎˊ˗ ✿

THE PARKS DID NOT HAVE GOOD NEWS.

“Lady Yunah threatened you?” Jungwon sighed, trying to decrypt what Lady Somin was doing. His fingers dug into the side of the armchair, anxiety brewing in small doses. Methodically, his index finger tapped the fancy fabric. “I thought it was a friendly talk?”

Somin sighed, sitting opposite Jungwon and his parents. “It was. But, you know how impulsive Jay is,” she explained with prickling guilt. It wasn’t good enough. He jeopardised a whole route Jungwon planned, and now, he had to craft another as if the week wasn’t busy enough.

“It sounded like an accusation, I have to admit,” she said, fiddling with her Reaper cuff snug on her wrist. She was here alone since Jongseong was still in the foreign land of fire and water, out for investigations.

Jungwon didn’t bother to focus on that. What he was focusing on was how the foundations of this murder case were already crumbling before he started.

Jiwon, beside him, tutted despite the softness brimming in her eyes. “Somin…”

“I know. They did not appreciate it, obviously, and denied having anything to do with it,” she explained, gaze dipping with worry.

“So, we have gotten nowhere,” Jihoon clarified, voice also flooded with exasperation, rubbing his one temple.

It was nothing. After a week of potential murder victims, the only scrap Jungwon collected was the short statement that added nothing to the bigger picture. He had dust in his case file. Nothing was coming together.

The talk went bad as well. Tensions were arising. Jungwon felt the proposition ghost over the room before anyone said it. His guts twisted.

“We still have the prophecy,” Somin reminded meekly.

There it was. Exhaling with denial bolted into his words, he spoke. “There must be other options other than diving straight into marriage?”

“Jungwon, what else can be done?” Somin interjected the way a mother would scold a child and harshly steer them in a direction. The sympathy was a feather in her gaze, and it reached his parents, tickling them into a contemplative silence.

He tensed, disbelief striking his spine into a straight pin.

“Mother, Father, you cannot be considering marriage—”

“Son…” Jihoon began in a tone that corroded the walls of his confidence. “It has almost been two weeks since the murders have arisen in the city, and there is not one lead. Most of the victims are dead, there are no witnesses, and CCTV were absent in all places.”

Jungwon’s refusal and panic intertwined into a tight noose as he saw the direction of this. They were agreeing with Somin and the drastic jump to such a resolution. Contempt pricked him like shards. They always had to let the Parks have a say in a decision and colour the bigger picture where Jungwon didn’t need them.

“What if you had a union with… Lady Sim, and unlocked an ability to help solve this?” Jihoon suggested, creeping into territory that had Jungwon clenching his jaw.

“It is a gamble, Father,” Jungwon interjected, exhaling another stream of trapped protests.

“I know that, Son. But what if it worked? It would not be so bad,” Jihoon remarked with a softness that was overridden by Jungwon’s flaming disagreement.

Jiwon softly touched Jungwon’s arm, rubbing encouragement into his elbow. Jungwon’s gaze dipped before he could burn his family to ashes.

“Even if the prophecy does not work, you are of age, Jungwon,” said Somin. Jungwon chained his curt gaze to the table rather than the Park sitting before him, trying to convince him that this was normal. “And those bodies can be stored in my husband’s freezer at the GRA mortuary.”

Jungwon nodded on the outside. On the inside, he wanted to die, but unfortunately for him, Grim Reapers held an inhuman strength that shielded them from Death.

“Won Bon, don’t be so upset. Lady Sim could introduce a whole new perspective to you. And I would get a daughter!” Jiwon assured, smiling gently. Jungwon stiffened at those words. Ice hammered into his ribs, making it harder to breathe as he shut his eyes in the silence. Until his sternum cleared, he swallowed hard as it passed.

Jungwon had a duty, and this was his next one.

—

YOU WERE RUNNING.

Running from your parents, that was.

Through the winding hospital halls and bewildered patients, you just about made it to the reception when your mother snagged your elbow. It sent you yelping as she hauled you to the counter. On your other arm, your father steadied you and didn’t let go. Both were breathing hard, disbelief staining their usual understanding.

“Sim Y/n! How dare you run from your own parents?!” She exclaimed, thoroughly out of breath as she placed a hand on her chest.

“It is not my fault when you are chasing me with an absurd proposal!” You frowned, shooting both of them an exasperated look. You tried to keep quiet, but your panic was clearly crossing the boundaries. “Of course, I am going to run!”

“The Yangs contacted us—”

“And?” You retorted sharply, tugging at your arms, but they were stuck. “You are listening to them over your own daughter?” You scoffed incredulously.

Both of your parents sighed in unison. Your mother was the one to huff. “You are worse than Jaeyun at listening.”

You gaped. “I am not—”

“The point is, Y/n, you are of age, the prophecy exists, and they sent us a proposal to meet,” your father interfered with your useless argument.

“Depending on a prophecy is a silly reason to wed. This is my life,” you bristled, voice dropping into deep lament, eyes desperate. It wasn’t fair that they were unleashing this on you.

Your mother released your arm with a sigh to tuck a strand behind your ear. “I know, my love, but you are the highest-ranking Soul Bearer of age. I would advise Jake, but…” Your mother trailed off, giving an uncertain sideways glance.

“He likes Heeseung?” You sulked.

“Yes, he’s hopeless.” Your father sighed. “He must have been bewitched—”

“Yoon Darling,” your mother chastised with a sideways glare. Your father nodded, but that thought was still clouding his mind.

“Just give it a chance. Meet him, see if there is something, and if there isn’t, then we’ll let it go,” she explained, doing nothing to convince you. The anxiety still lingered around your chest, prickling you with everything that could go wrong.

Then came the thought that you weren’t just a daughter anymore. You also had to act your part of the duty no matter how much you didn’t want to. It was just that marriage was a level up from where you were now.

There was nothing you could do. Not when your parents were still stringing along this expectation so you could follow. Well, if meeting Jungwon, who was too salty for his own good, was the solution, then you had to try.

── ⋮ ꒰ঌ ໒꒱ˎˊ˗ ✿

THE YANG ESTATE WAS TOO BIG.

It wasn’t anything you hadn’t seen before. Your own home was lavish and generous with its high ceilings and comfortable warm tones, but this was another level of luxury.

Jungwon’s home was different shades of golden and cream.

You and your family were sitting in a huge lounge with yellow patterned walls, with five floor-to-ceiling windows letting in the noon sunshine. The room was adorned with drawers and tables of delicate little knick-knacks that probably were touched once in their entire lifespan, and the camelback couch you were sitting on had pillows softer than a single feather.

You could feel it behind your back right now. Under your ivory dress with green embroidered leaves on the bodice, you marvelled at how soft everything was here. The dress you wore had fluttering sleeves that rippled down your legs, intricate lace details drawing attention to you like a cloud lone in a blue sky.

You didn’t want to wear something so… formal and extravagant, but your mother ignored you and paired emerald earrings with a long chain to the back of your half-tied hair. In summary, you felt overdressed for such a meeting.

Your mother was on your right, your father on your left, and Jaeyun was sitting alone on another couch.

Thinking it over now, you wondered how you ended up here. You weren’t great at talking to people. Your closest friends were Minju from your school life, and Heeseung, who had sunshine for a personality.

Heeseung would have beamed at you in this gown, and told you to go all in for the opportunity. He saw no wrongs in a situation, and found positivity in anything. Heeseung was as shy as you, so connecting was easier than with anyone else you had met. Other than the two of them, your own mind chained you away from socialising freely.

It was why, even now when Jungwon was imminent on entering the same space, you felt the steel anxiety drill into your joints, making it momentarily hard to move. You tried to sit straight. Then, you kept your eyes ahead and then dropped the strings when it felt too real like this.

“You look like you are about to shit yourself—”

Your mother glared at Jaeyun. “Language.”

“I was just saying.” He sheepishly smiled, fluffy hair already disobeying the earlier hair brushing. He was as serious as a marshmallow. You couldn’t find comfort from him.

In the posh peace of this lounge, it hit you like thunder that you were about to meet with Death himself. You almost flinched back to reality.

The door handle jostled and opened at the thunder in your back. Entering was Lady Jiwon in a navy gown, Lord Yang Jihyun in a matching blue suit, and the main root of all your anxiety.

Jungwon wore pure charcoal with shimmering grey swirls woven into his blazer, with a fitted waist jacket that had a chain dangling delicately from the small breast pocket. A black tie nestled at the base of his honey throat, accentuating his stupidly broad shoulders.

It was his eyes beneath wavy hair that forced a memory of your first encounter into vision.

They were so dark, sitting like obsidian atop your face, like he wanted to carve the judgement into your skin. You had absolutely no idea what he was feeling in the void behind his irises.

His mother, you recognised as Lady Jiwon from surface-level research, approached with the most pearliest smile.

“I am so delighted everyone made it,” she exclaimed happily. Much more joyous than Jungwon. She brought Lord Yang forward, hands interlocked. “My husband, Jihoon.”

Jihoon bowed his head a little, smiling with a dimple. Did Jungwon have a dimple? “Pleasure to meet everyone.”

“We are honoured,” said your father, getting up to shake Jihoon’s hand firmly before sitting. “I am Yoon. My wife here is Mei, and Jaeyun is our elder son.”

A fluffy smile slipped past Jaeyun’s lips like instinct.

Then, Jiwon brought Jungwon forward with a small, frantic wave of her hand. Obliging to her, he slowly walked forward and bowed his head in greeting.

“Nice to meet everyone,” he murmured with a voice gripping onto control.

At your time to stand, Jiwon’s eyes sparked into fireworks as she smiled. She took your hands, thumbing over your knuckles. “You must be Lady Sim Y/n, the one my Son met in court. You are such a beauty!”

Warmth hit your cheeks. Jihoon smiled. Jungwon, on the other hand, looked like he was verifying that last bit when his eyes dragged slowly over your features.

“Thank you.”

Everyone sat down in their designated space, waiting as maids brought tea in expensive, untouchable ceramics and pastries made for display. You hadn’t moved an inch, focused on itching the anxiety out of your thumb.

You were too focused on whether you were sitting straight or slouching. Or if Jungwon was waiting for you to do that. His gaze was practically carved into your face.

Jaeyun sent a discreet smile behind his teacup, wiggling his brows that conjured a violent wave in you from his deceptive facade.

“As you know, there has been an influx of murders around the borders,” Jihoon began after a sip, dampening the atmosphere.

“Yes, Y/n told us some of it,” Yoon said, his tone dissipating from that initial joy. Silence from your end as your gaze stayed locked on the table.

Jungwon sensed the hitch in your heartbeat. It was a constantly rapid pace ever since you got here. The meeting was well past brief impressions, so he knew it wasn’t targeted at that. No. This pace had been troubling you for a while. Jungwon narrowed his investigative gaze as he sipped his tea.

In your place, your mother cleared her throat. “And, when we got the proposal, we were all…” she gave a subtle sideways glance at your sulky, lowered eyes, “… very pleased.”

Jiwon grinned. “I am glad. Won Bon—”

“Mother,” Jungwon grumbled, making Jiwon smile sheepishly. You caught the distaste when you briefly met eyes. Sheepishly, she smiled in a way that smoothed the anxious knots in your spine.

“My Jungwon is so work-oriented. It took a while to convince him,” she said gently, ignoring Jungwon’s shrivelling nonchalance. Pink dusted his cheeks in a way that almost made him look… shy. You wanted to question how someone like him could do that.

“Oh, we had to chase our daughter down,” Yoon added impishly. The room erupted in small laughter as you stiffened at the memory. Jungwon, from the other side of the couch, slowly raised a brow, trying to imagine you running away. Warmth drowned your cheeks again as his gaze dragged over your face with flames.

You turned back to your tea.

“Jungwon is just as stubborn. When he lost the court case—”

Jungwon straightened, gaze whipping to his father. “The Prophecy… please.”

Jihoon smiled, expecting it. “Right. We proposed this because of the well-known prophecy. Currently, there are no leads, no evidence indicating a clear direction. We hoped unlocking the ability would possibly help solve it all,” Jihoon explained, too serious for the denial homed in your head.

“Even if the ability doesn’t help the murder cases, it is still special if it is known to us,” Jiwon added with a signature smile.

None of this made sense to you. The protests were already burning your tongue, observing how they must have already made their decisions. It was unfair. However, you had to people-please everyone.

Delivering what they expected of you to gain a shred of validation. Working in the hospital as a Soul Bearer and handling the delicate packages of life meant no mistakes. The fragile version of yourself you crafted for them was nothing without being right. Soul Bearing made it clear that it shouldn’t even be a scenario in your head.

The conversation droned on about union possibility, about working together, and new perspectives. Each one had you holding your voice as fate was strategised in front of you. Jungwon was silent as you were, his hand flexing momentarily because the whole thing strengthened his sense of duty again.

One more level for both you and him.

“We shall let you two converse,” Mei said, squeezing your shoulder softly in encouragement. You felt anything but that.

Jihoon sent a look to Jungwon that said to “be kind”, and then was the one to close you and him into the lounge.

The door clicked shut. Silence hung between you since it was much more comforting than to confront whatever was going to happen in the near future.

Discomfort invaded your nerves and forced you to trace the neatly-cut portraits and sunlight peeking through the fluttering curtains. He was still probing your face from afar.

“Do you like summer?” Jungwon asked in a low voice, following your gaze to his sunny windows. He leaned back, a leg crossed over the other, a head tilted with increasing interest.

“I think so. However, I do not like it for so long.” You glanced away from the intense void sitting in his eyes. He raised an inquisitive brow.

“Strange words,” he commented dryly.

“Meaning?” You returned, gaze narrowing.

“Meaning what do you like then?” Jungwon crossed his arms, capturing your eyes within one second. A skip flashed through your heart at his attention.

You glanced at the glass windows once more. “Every season, but not for a long period. Except Spring. It rains too much.”

Jungwon’s lips twitched in amusement at your absurdity, but he remembered he wasn’t supposed to be laughing at you like a comrade. He was still petty over the lost trial, and that alone smoothed his emotions straight.

“I like Spring,” he stated, blinking in a way that was far too serious. “I like the rain.”

Your smirk was subtle and swift. “Of course you do.”

“What do you mean by that?” Jungwon now remarked quietly, his small glare carving into you.

“Spring rain never goes away. Like your grudges, Lord Yang,” you answered, letting go of decorum now. His face fell, nonchalance unravelling right before your eyes as he leaned forward, as if he could physically dig into your mind.

“The Spring rain is a transitional period where the blooms are born after a hard winter.” Jungwon steepled his fingers.

“How poetic.” You cracked the smallest, incredulous smile before reality pulled at your chest once more. This wasn’t some enjoyable meeting with Death. It was a negotiation for marriage.

You hesitantly met his eyes. The hostility wasn’t as present anymore, but there was still a boundary stopping you from seeing his emotions on the other side. He was staring too. There was no hiding about it.

“How are we supposed to fulfil something almost imaginary?” You asked quietly, fingers digging into your lap.

“I don’t know,” he replied after a few quiet seconds. It was a gamble, and he knew you knew it too. Some common ground there.

“Then, what does it entail? To… make this prophecy true?” You asked carefully. Your parents never told you in full how one connected to it. All you knew was that a wand and scythe were needed for it.

His gaze wandered a little before landing on you like he was trying to creep into the territory without scaring you. “My parents have said it a few times…” He got to his feet, cautiously approaching with a generous slowness. “We need to let the wand and scythe touch, and they say you fall into a ‘trance’…” he stopped for a contemplative second, searching.

You spared a look at his shadowy cuff that shone. “Or?”

“Some say in bed,” he stated casually.

“What?” You exclaimed with pinched brows.

He shut his eyes regretfully before opening them. “Not like that. I mean, in a sleep state in bed. You know how sleep works, right?”

“When we sleep, our souls are detached from the body.” You nodded.

“That means, outside the body, our souls can interact. That is one of the ways.” He watched as you stood and began to saunter to the big windows. Following, he scanned the curve of your waist, how your hair draped flawlessly behind your back, and the delicate jewel sat in the sea of your strands.

He strolled along until he lingered behind you.

You realised how stupidly tall he was. “What happens when you… take a soul for death?”

Jungwon was surprised at your interest, considering you wanted to burn holes into his head the other day, but he looked past your face and to the florals bobbing by in the wind outside.

“When I’m delivering them to death, I go to this specific place. Death Meadow is what I call it. Dark, vast—a field, and it’s where Reapers go,” Jungwon replied, recalling the dim skies and the long grass brushing his knees.

You frowned. “Is that all it looks like?”

“Did you expect a castle?” He mused, his deep voice rippling down your spine.

“A field is hardly exciting,” you mumbled, crossing your arms almost in defence. He chuckled curtly.

“Death is hardly exciting,” he said back quietly. Your profile exposed the curve of your nose, or your lips, which, he had to admit, complemented your… facial harmony.

“I know,” you muttered back, sighing. After a few terse seconds, you rolled out your right hand, letting the bracelet morph into the signature wand. “We should try, shouldn’t we?”

Jungwon’s chest swelled with the anticipation of it. If there was something, though he didn’t know what, then a marriage was inevitable. A wedding. A life with you. The person he had nearly cursed out loud sixteen days ago. Thinking back to it, maybe he was overreacting, but then the thought crumbled as his ego ached.

You watched his face shift with thoughts, probably knowing how real this all was. The finality hammered through your chest until breathing felt tiring. This was it. And there was only one way to find out.

Wordlessly, you inched the wand forward towards his scythe, ignoring the apprehension twisting violently in your guts.

You shared a look that he mirrored: this would seal their fates into one path.

The scythe touched first. Blade met gem, and instantly, a heavy wave rippled from your chest to the base of your spine, activating some other part within you had no experience with. It thrummed in your ears and smoked the space behind your eyes. Bewildered, you glanced at Jungwon and froze when his irises glowed.

No void. His eyes had a corona of something white that haunted his now brown irises. He looked personal. Human. Normal.

Jungwon’s breath hitched as blue slithered and lit your own eyes homed the mist that felt as if they had always been there in the shadows. Inside, his body rattled like fabric shifting over one another, creating friction and warmth that was too energetic to handle.

You departed first, wand clutched to your chest with ferocity. Jungwon’s scythe fell back into a cuff, catching his curt breath that escaped his control. The silence was a sentence on both you and him before Jungwon sighed.

“You felt that, did you not?” He asked, eyes averted.

You nodded once. “Yes.” Your tone was eroded by anxiety.

“And you know what that means?” He glanced at you again, where acceptance was absent from your stance. Your shoulders were stiff when you tentatively returned his gaze, which was a void once more. “My parents shall talk to yours. For a union.”

He turned, ready to walk out, but your uncertainty followed after him a few steps. “Do you want to get married?” You couldn’t help it. This whole thing had to be turning his axis too.

That made him stop, shoulders shifting beneath like he was preparing a practised answer. It was a second late. A second of hesitance you spotted in yourself. You thought he would be real for a second, but he straightened like a stone wall again.

“I don’t have to want to. I need to,” he answered in a resolved tone before continuing his stride towards the closed doors. His heart protested in angry stomps, which he ignored.

You felt it, however. His worth anchored his shoulders, fragile as it was huge on him. It curled, a monster he efficiently tucked away.

That was enough to tell you he wasn’t going to back out.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━˚₊‧꒰ა ♡ ໒꒱‧₊˚━━━━━━━━━━━━━

── .✦ [NOTES]: okay, did yall like this? You can tell I gave up in the end with proof reading this. Also, I am on holiday, but I had no wifi for a bit, and now I do. So, I haven't written anything LMFAO. But, even then, I hope you guys liked this! <3

ᯓ [DREAM LIBRARY] °❀⋆.ೃ ᐟ.ᐟ

⌗.ᐟ M.LIST >>

⊹₊꒷︶꒷꒦‧₊˚⊹︰꒷

┃⿻ ╰┈➤ TAGLIST: OPEN

ᴛᴀɢʟɪꜱᴛ : @soyyiiu @won1yoiz @yangbreads @t-rex-12 @itsstarynights @jungwonisme @kjunebuggie @stealerrrrsstuff @ughsoannoying @melancholatte @zino-yoon @xozerose @orngejuic-io

The last thing he wanted to do was debate whether he could do his job of taking a soul. His whole life revolved around knowing when a body was ready for death, not for battling it. Jungwon could read a fading heartbeat when close, so getting a court case was an insult to his work.

In the case, a middle-aged man had a terrible accident and sustained injuries all over, enough for him to fall into the fragile hands of a coma. Six months was the monitoring period for a body to be observed, but after that? Grim Reapers would get involved.

Jungwon had his head straight and was happy to take the soul and gain a rank. But then, a dispute had landed in his office, infuriatingly so.

An abominable dispute challenged his objective. It meant having to go to court and contest whether to pull life support or keep the man steady in sleep.

It dampened his whole week.

Even now, as he left behind the crowd cursing him out at the front, Jungwon strolled by the court walls like it was his crafted path, knowing exactly where to go. The public meant nothing to him because, to them, he was a heartless monster that fed off people’s souls.

Of course, Jungwon didn’t feed off souls. He had no care for who he took and what happened once he closed the doors, so he really felt all those insults bounce off his back.

He trained for that. Every acidic remark thrown, he learned to wash it off before it could ever burn. He had to. When being the heir to taking over the GRA, it was key to tune out everyone’s useless opinions and go with his gut. And his gut was where his duty was shaped.

His father, Yang Jihoon, taught him that. He ingrained it in Jungwon’s head. And he was supposed to be here.

The hallway was filled with several court officials talking among clients, but none were his father. Despite the push to learn punctuality, his father never practised it.

Whatever. Jungwon sauntered to his assigned courtroom and pushed the doors open to the grand, brown interior.

There was a raised platform at the front for the judge, two long tables parallel to each other from opposite sides of the room, and the lower gallery consisted of seats arranged in rows until it hit the main door. The upper panel had glass windows to accommodate more secretive observers.

It wasn’t empty. Among the lower gallery, a woman who matched the victim’s age sat with her shoulders hunched, eyes cloudy with grief. She looked as if she was curling into a seated, dejected ball. Beside her was an elderly couple, whom he only assumed to be the parents. In a mirroring figure, they leaned on each other, frowns anchored with apprehension.

Jungwon paid them no mind as he sat down, finally setting his eyes on who dared to dispute his claim. Except he paused the stream of thoughts when he saw you.

You sat with perfectly aligned shoulders controlled beneath the smoothest white shirt he had ever seen. Those were tucked into the baby blue skirt reaching the top of your knees. The pleats looked strictly ironed and straight. And he almost scoffed at the white stockings with matching pale blue bows delicately atop your knees like you were pulling attention in the little ways. Your shoes weren’t dramatic. They were reserved flats that probably swallowed sounds before they made one.

You didn’t stop writing. Your pen flew across the paper, writing some nonsense, he imagined, and didn’t take a break. Not even to look at him.

Jungwon slowly frowned a fraction, his own index finger tapping the table methodically as he processed the strict line of your lips and how your eyes simply followed the flow of the ink. It felt unnerving. So, he tapped into your heartbeat.

Easygoing pace with a slight hitch, as if it knew it was being spied on. Jungwon couldn’t spot the nervousness on your face if that was what your heart was translating. It confused him, so he glanced to where your right hand was adorned with a spiral of gems coloured baby blue and pink before it shaped a heart, and extended into rings that hugged each finger.

Jungwon tilted his head. On his own fidgeting hand, there was a metal cuff, running with black runes beneath that spoke of the deaths it aided. His own cuff grew out, extended into rings for each finger. It was where his scythe stayed when he didn’t want it present. It gravely helped with walking around in public without conjuring fear.

The only difference between him and you was that you were a Soul Bearer.

The exact opposite to who he was.

Instead of taking life, they delivered them; instead of scanning heartbeats, they sensed emotion through the ripple and weight of energy; they also boosted souls and encouraged them back into bodies, bringing colour to cheeks again.

Jungwon loathed them because they brought him here. To this arid courtroom where it reeked of tears and bad news.

It didn’t disturb you in the slightest. Uninterrupted, you kept scribing whatever nonsense, possibly breaking down whatever hurdle he was about to chuck your way. As if you knew.

How stupid.

Jungwon halted the finger tapping and opened his laptop, beginning to open his notes and read them with burning eyes. This particular time, he felt like he was going to have to recite everything verbatim to break through that stoic shield of yours.

Eventually, court officials lined the benches, had their notepads out, and the writers were organised. The judge had her glasses on, making everyone rise before it all commenced.

A flicker brewed in Jungwon’s nerves, making his fingers dance again. Cooling it down, he stood and walked around to present his argument. Only then did you meet his gaze.

Oh, you had this stupidly sweet gaze, scanning him so thoroughly as if he was a dream all in your head. But his feline eyes were heavy with his own judgement as it carved into your skin, taking in your features for memory. Finally, you surrendered back to rewriting the ink on your paper.

Jungwon refrained from a smug smirk and faced the judge instead of the grieving family. He learned the hard way that facing the gallery earned a strong tide of glares as a Grim Reaper.

“I will repeat the rule for everyone that the hospital has set forth,” Jungwon said, not bothering to face you, who probably knew this fact already. “The hospital has a six-month period where the patient is monitored while comatose. After that, Grim Reapers are allowed to take the soul once it reaches six months.”

Someone sniffled in the room, and pens scribbled on paper.

“Under the Grim Reaper’s Association, I argue that keeping him in the hospital will not benefit him any further.” He cast a final look at the judge. The heartbeats around him practically hammered with disagreement and hidden insults, but Jungwon sat back down and let his words sink in.

Logical and curt. His very way of working.

The counterargument started with you. The flats made no sound, gaze drifting to the crowd rather than to him. A tactic he found didn’t work in his favour. For you, however, the elderly couple and wife had a sparkle in their teary eyes. In your hand was a pen, thumb repeatedly rubbing the lid to occupy your nervous tick.

Your heartbeat, he found, was still being restrained with great effort.

“Mr Kim suffered several injuries in the car accident,” you began, the cadence of your voice reserved, a practised path with no gaps between. “However, over the months, he has displayed great improvement. His wounds are healing, and his vitals are stable.”

Repeating the case—also another strategy you put forth to remind everyone why you weren’t the ‘bad’ one here.

“His soul, as Reapers and Bearers can see, is still connected to him. Keeping him alive is a perfect opportunity to encourage his soul to return to the body. We have a specialised ward for it, which my family primarily work in,” you explained, growing more firm. Then, you finally hooked your attention on him, your thumb now harshly digging into the ridge of the pen lid.

His gaze was obsidian and endless, and staring would only lose your train of thought. Apart from his subtle frown, you squared your shoulders a little and faced the contempt sewn into his brows.

“I agree that six months is the observational period; however, with Mr Kim’s improvement, he can gain a sense of his soul again. It is the last step,” you said, trying very hard to stay on his gaze. It was like a black flame that you had never seen before, but you were too afraid to explore.

Jungwon didn’t move to make a note. He was too busy dealing with your hidden audacity to spell this case out for him with baby steps. He understood all of this, of course, but keeping a corpse in a ward was hardly productive. The thought was cruel and strict, but he knew nothing other than that.

“For patients that do not improve, it is another situation entirely. For Mr Kim, it is a chance. And, I think his family would be pleased that this last step is the one to take, and the one that could break his coma.” You finally swerved gazes to the judge, smiling a little before sitting down.

Jungwon felt like your argument wasn’t even much. It was a few sentences bedazzled with empathy before being given to the gallery and court officials to write.

His heart began to drum with animosity. It was a speed he couldn’t chain back, and it ran against his ribs. Not because you were better, but because he felt as if everyone else was going to side with you. There was no jury, but he had a gut feeling that wrapped ivy around his spine.

No. He shoved that whole feeling beneath soil and mentally stomped on it. You were just a glorified empath.

As the minutes ticked on, you and Jungwon were heaving arguments back and forth. You, however, had thorns gradually growing in your tone. Each piece he gave, you returned it with another sharp counterattack, and you were growing sulky, even. He had focused too much on the sunken brows that aided your frustration with him, and the way you met his gaze head-on with a crash when talking back to him.

That initial restrained heartbeat was slower now, but burned strong with annoyance.

“If he wanted to come back to his body, his soul would’ve returned and awakened him.”

“A wound does not heal so easily either.”

“There are no specific steps to bring a soul back except by healing. And there is no guarantee there either.” Jungwon’s gaze narrowed.

“Lord Yang, what benefit does taking a soul away do other than giving you an increase of rank?” You glared at him, all soft fury with a tone that skidded against his ears. Your heartbeat fluttered, sinking once more with the light downturn of your lip.

Jungwon had his comment ready. Leaning forward with those feline eyes full of hollow understanding, he spoke.

“Lady Sim, I would love to give a lecture on my job and how it helps our nation, but the hour is coming to an end. All I have to say is that I abide by the rules given.” He sat back with his relaxed, intertwined fingers on his lap, smug. “That is the strongest argument one can give.”

That last comment forced you to avert your burning eyes to the ink on the page, recalling the calm strokes you had written before getting all worked up.

Recess arrived shortly after that. It was a thirty-minute period that allowed Jungwon to sit in a room with bare, cream walls, a few couches, and a huge window broadcasting bobbing flowers and a trickling fountain in silence.

All too idyllic for such a place adopting stress, he thought.

The door opened behind the armchair he rested on.

“Son!” His father’s voice flinched him from the calm petals.

“Father.” Jungwon nodded. Jihoon was slightly taller and wore the routine blue blazer and pants with a jolly stroke of colour on his face. His features were a frame for innate joy and twin dimples.

“Soul Bearer case?” Jihoon asked, sitting down opposite Jungwon.

To that, he nodded, the initial exasperation filling his head with aggravating smoke. “A waste of time, really?”

“She’s just doing her job, Son.”

“Taking up hospital beds with corpses is not productive in any sense,” Jungwon corrected, flexing his cuffed hand as if he could imagine his scythe’s hunger for a soul. Calming that pang into a gentle ache, Jungwon sighed, staring once more at the silent nature outside.

“Don’t be envious, Won. It is not a good sight on you.”

“I always look like this.” Jungwon raised a bitter brow.

“Exactly.” Jihoon raised his brows in return, making Jungwon realise that his parental figure was not so serious about this. Jungwon wished he could be as loose, but that was all before when expectations weren’t premature, and when duty had a schedule.

“I was watching,” Jihoon added impishly.

“You did?” Jungwon inquired. That didn’t help alleviate the pressure to win.

“Of course. I wouldn’t miss it,” he replied, face turning a little brave as he spared a glance at Jungwon. “And, I must say, she is quite a match—”

“Father,” Jungwon said with a deep, contemptuous sigh. “Not this again.”

Jihoon pursed his lips, trying very hard to choose his words without it blowing a fuse in the process. “I never said anything about the prophecy.”

“You were thinking it,” Jungwon exclaimed, gesturing wildly with a single hand. “You made that face.”

“I did not.”

“You did. You did that stupid thing with your lips,” Jungwon pointed out, eyes shiny with pins of refusal. Jihoon broke into a sigh.

“Can you blame me? You are the heir to the highest-ranking Death Lineage, and Lady Sim Y/n happens to be the highest-ranking Soul Bearer,” Jihoon explained, voice lowering from that joy to something stern. “I did my research in the session.”

Jungwon wasn’t having it as his cuffed hand flexed into a fist, determined to cling to his refusal. “You are depending on a centuries-long prophecy that has barely come to fruition. What makes you think it is me and… her?”

“You two are alike,” Jihoon countered.

“We absolutely are not!” Jungwon argued, suddenly on his feet. It was probably getting late. Desperate to escape his dad, he glanced at the clock and walked with relief when he noticed that recess was coming to an end. He yanked the door open.

“I need to go, Father. The Judge would have declared a verdict now.”

“I will come with you,” his father said, already on his feet and out the door before Jungwon could blink.

As Jungwon watched his jolly father walk further away, he prayed that he would win.

── ⋮ ꒰ঌ ໒꒱ˎˊ˗ ✿

JUNGWON LOST.

The Judge kept going with his announcement. Jungwon was sure he hadn’t heard it right, but then he glanced at the family cooped in the one row flooded with relief. They had burst to their feet, rushed to the barrier, and began to thank you profusely.

A heavy denial wedged in between his ribs and stayed like a sore thumb. However, he had the habit of watching.

You smiled gently at the family, shaking their hands. Underneath, your heartbeat was a swift flutter of disbelief and happiness all at once. It began to soar while Jungwon’s heart found the common, raging rhythm, bumping with that wedge of incredulity that the verdict stabbed him with.

You dipped your head to the family, barely glanced at Jungwon, and then smiled at the Judge. As quick as that, you slipped through the staff door, disappearing like smoke after setting his whole mind on fire.

What just happened?

Jungwon hadn’t failed ever since his first trial. And that was when he was of age—eighteen. Back then, he had been under the brunt of every learned rule, every cold emotion at his first trial. Ultimately, the lack of balance had tipped him off the scale, making his delivery messy.

He had learned from that. The mistakes were studied, then erased from history because he didn’t lose one after that. Some trials consisted of investigations rather than tangling with the public’s hearts. Regardless, he had a vow.

He never lost.

Now, it was unravelling because of you. A crack in the canvas.

Jungwon stormed into the hallway, pins pricking his spine that made him want to swallow a cigarette so he could numb his blood. His father appeared by his side, matching his furious pace.

They reached the glass exit to the sprightly city where, beyond the tree line, the city bustled under a clear, blue sky. People wandered in or out of the courthouse, navigating their own proficient jobs and lives.

Jihoon stopped Jungwon from abusing any more of the floor by hooking a gentle hand on his shoulder. “You are taking this too harshly.”

Jungwon loathed that tone. It was bubble wrap for delicate situations, but Jungwon was not that. He preferred it if his father told him off for losing. He needed that lash of discipline.

“It’s not a success, is it?” Jungwon asked, sardonic as he met his father’s searching gaze.

“It was not totally useless,” Jihoon said, resigned. Jungwon glared at his father’s gabble.

“You are hopeless. This prophecy—”

“Are you saying it is fake?” Jihoon raised a brow.

Jungwon stayed silent, his jaw clenching gradually, teetering between telling his father off or being respectful. Then, he thinned his lips, glancing outwards again.

“I didn’t say that.”

The prophecy his father was infatuated with was made by a man centuries ago, claiming that two opposites would unite. Specifically, it was Life and Death. And when they did have a union, it would unlock a secret ability.

What that ability was—nobody knew.

So, it was a dangerous gamble.

“I just think that being too optimistic about something so old will do no good. Save those prayers for useful things. It could have been for my trial, but that did not come true,” Jungwon said, tilting his head with knives glinting in his eyes.

Then, before his father could stop him, Jungwon descended the stairs to where his car pulled up. Black and sleek with tinted windows when the sun was too much.

“You never know!” Jihoon said, chasing after him.

Jungwon entered the car and closed it in his father’s face.

── ⋮ ꒰ঌ ໒꒱ˎˊ˗ ✿

“A little birdie told me you won against Death himself.”

Your brother, Jaeyun, was following around with sparkles for eyes, fluffy hair, and a bright smile. However, you had no time for him right now.

Currently, you were working a shift in the Healer’s ward of the hospital, holding your tablet at the reception counter. It was fairly quiet for now, but you knew someone was bound for an emergency, and you needed your mind set before it happened. It was a trait grown through months of doing this profession.

Jaeyun wasn’t helping when he was constantly reminding you of that court trial. It was such a dream. Sure, you had delivered a stitched explanation, but beneath the mask, you were made of loose seams and tattered explanations. Usually, doing court trials didn’t bring erratic nerves, but Yang Jungwon was a star in the universe of court trials. So, finding out you were against him had forced all your thoughts to be shot clean.

“Don’t ignore me, Y/nie,” he said, leaning on the counter next to your tablet.

“Who was your birdie?” You asked, sparing a swift glance, but scrolling harder on the screen, barely reading the words.

“My husband,” Jaeyun answered with a pearly smile.

That halted your scrolling, shooting a bewildered gaze at your brother. “Please stop calling Heeseung that.”

Jake grinned, adjusting his glasses. “Nope! Heeseung is my friend, brother, and husband—”

Your brows sank with a thousand confused questions. “Brother and husband?”

“Trust me. Heeseung wouldn’t even mind,” Jake affirmed before his gaze was over your shoulder, eyes lighting up with recognition.

Heeseung had burgundy hair flopping around his sweet, doe-brown eyes where starry thoughts were born. He wore the same, neutral uniform, white and baby blue, and his wand, which had been in his hand, began to crumble into a magic mist and slither back into a cuff atop his wrist. He leaned on the same counter your crisis was short-circuiting.

“I heard my name,” Heeseung said, leaning beside you. You frowned.

“You told Jake about my trial? You were there?” You asked sulkily.

“I was actually in the upper panel. I told them I was a past client that felt too grateful to skip a trial,” Heeseung said proudly, brows raising. Jake was easily impressed, but you scoffed, nudging Heeseung with a soft palm.

“You could have told them you were my friend?”

“I like the back story—the flair it gives me,” he replied, chuckling. Both men laughed at either side of you. It was disgustingly romantic.

“Fine. I battled Lord Yang,” you began quietly, remembering the dips of anxiety you had fallen into through the court session.

“You make it sound like he tried to take you out with his scythe,” Jake mused, impish.

“It felt like it,” you shot back, nudging Jake away as he grinned like a daisy.

“You actually did really well. I couldn’t tell you wanted to die,” Heeseung commented casually. He recalled the sediments of control fueled into your straight posture, the tone of metal certainty, and your perfect reasoning. It was a win, he thought.

While you could tick the good points of the whole thing, Jungwon’s midnight glare distanced you the whole time. In fact, you were glad your skin was still intact after the whole thing. Mainly because you had lost the anxious edge in the last quarter of that argument. The rage shielded it.

Getting that exact verdict had switched the apprehension back on. You had never packed so quickly in your life.

“I never want to do that again. Nor meet him,” you admitted, rubbing the side of your head to erode the memory.

Heeseung made a sound of disagreement, crossing his arms like he just pulled a memory back into vision. You and Jake both glanced hastily.

“What?” You said, a twinge of horror twisting in your voice.

“Senior Lord Yang, his dad, by the way, was sitting across me in the upper panel. And he kept looking at you, Y/n,” Heeseung explained, eyebrows wiggling suggestively with a goofy grin.

This was going somewhere awful already. “So?”

“Don’t you know who Dada Yang is?” Heeseung asked, brows furrowed in a sudden second.

“Don’t call him that, Seung.” You grimaced.

Jake completely ignored you. “Dada Yang is the top Lord of Death. Lord Jungwon is his only heir as of now. And he is of age.” He glanced at your increasingly gloomy face. “Lord Yang Jungwon is twenty-two.”

“And you are twenty-one,” Heeseung said like clockwork. This just went downhill easily.

Their talk made your smile stiff, the appreciation for their stupid facts dying on the spot. “Guys—”

“You could be the one—” Jake tried to say.

You slammed a tempered hand on the counter, flinching both Jake and Heeseung out of their seesaw of a conversation. Both turned with bewildered gazes, clearly lacking your perspective. You straightened with locked shoulders and exasperated brows.

“No. I am not the ‘one’, okay?” You began quietly. “Quoting something so old and ridiculous is out of the question. You sound like our parents,” you chastised Jake, picking up your tablet.

It completely flew over Jake’s head. “Y/n, you can’t deny that this could be real. We deliver souls to pregnant women with wands. I don’t think anything is too ‘ridiculous’.”

“How many times have Soul Bearers and Grim Reapers tried to come together, only for the lineages never to come to fruition?” You asked them, tablet held with paling knuckles. When you received silence, you resolutely continued. “Right. There has not been any circumstance like that. Because of that, there was never a successful union.”

Heeseung and Jake stayed silent, slowly deflating from their sky-high ideas. Mischief, however, danced in Jake’s eyes as he leaned on the counter. You sulked.

“You never know!”

“Jake!”

He put his hands up in surrender. “I’m saying the truth!”

── ⋮ ꒰ঌ ໒꒱ˎˊ˗ ✿

THE PARKS WERE A CONSTANT PRESENCE IN JUNGWON’S MANOR.

Specifically, Park Jongseong, who was witty and goal-oriented; those qualities clashed with his premature trigger that would act before he fully thought.

With him were his parents. Lady Somin and Lord Sehyun were a constant force existing throughout his life. For as long as Jungwon could remember, the Parks were a second set of parents from another tree. They were so closely entwined with the Yangs that they lived only yonder from the Yang Manor, separated simply by a cobblestone path.

Today, everyone gathered for tea in the Yang garden. It was behind the glorious manor that stood like a palace, underneath a cream marquee where manicured foliage was shaped up pillars, and where petals learned to keep off the path.

There was no use in these mundane tea moments. So, he was looking through some documentation on his tablet, still boiling from the court case from a week ago. He hadn’t seen you again, and hoped it would stay like that.

The tablet was suddenly snatched out of his arms. Jungwon jumped momentarily before snapping his eyes up, only to soften when he saw his beamy mother.

“Won Bon, you know there is no work talk at tea time,” she chastised gently, her voice the weight of petals. She faced the tablet down on the table.

Lady Jiwon, his kind and sensitive mother, was someone he couldn’t defy.

“Sorry, Mother,” he murmured. Jiwon smiled a sweet thing before sitting next to him. He could never get anything past her these days. Not even work.

Tea time was a sacred time where family bonded. It was her routine to gather everyone around this white-clothed table and talk about the most recent treasures of their lives. But the treasures were boring life events.

The glass doors to the garden opened, revealing Jihoon talking to the Parks with troubled voices.

Lord Sehyun wore something casual and meaningful, with his clean shirt and pants; Lady Somin wore her smooth gown with pin-straight black hair; Jongseong’s hair was loose, wearing all black, like Jungwon.

“Somin, was my husband keeping you late again?” Jiwon doted sweetly with a pearly smile.

Somin scoffed, subtly jabbing a thumb in her husband’s direction. “It is not all yours. My husband and Son are the same. They talk about work everywhere.”

“Just like Won Bon!” Jiwon exclaimed, nodding at Jungwon. The nickname was embarrassing despite being a source of warmth. He never told her off for it anymore. The last time he told her not to, she did it again in the next breath.

He acknowledged the Parks with a casual, murmured greeting. Then, everyone sat down in their designated spaces, letting maids pour beverages into ceramics before being left alone. His father’s frantic heartbeat was chasing something unknown, too panicked to be about something unserious. The tension tangled his father’s brows, and Jungwon couldn’t quite figure it out.

“What happened?” Jungwon asked first.

Jongseong quirked a half-impressed smile. “As diligent as ever.” He leaned in, some of that amusement draining away. “There have been bodies found near the border. And, I’m seeing a pattern.”

There had been a few souls he himself picked up before the GRA collected the body, but all that was on his confiscated tablet. From memory, the people that died had done so in freak accidents: a crushed skull here, an impaled body somewhere else, and all away from the heart of the city to where rurality made most of the location.

“I remember recording such,” Jungwon said, lifting his gaze thoughtfully. “I thought they had normal causes, non-suspicious, that is.”

“I know.” Jongseong hummed. “But all of them are near the borders. Suicide, accidents—but they all died near the same place.”

Good observation. The only detail was: where was Jongseong leading with this?

“What are you suggesting? Murder?” Jungwon asked, incredulous almost.

“It’s what the evidence dictates,” Jongseong affirmed, tension slithering into his brows. Another detail stabbed Jungwon out of the ludicrous conclusion.

Most of the people who died had nothing special to their name. They were people who barely belonged to a magical Lineage—were normal workers. They weren’t from the top of the economy or society.

“Those who died had completely normal lives. Who would want to murder them?” Jungwon let the question break the ‘no-work’ talk and displease his mother. She had gone quiet, but distaste radiated out of her tightly crossed arms.

“If it is murder, we need to investigate,” Jihoon said, tone dipping with worry.

Jongseong’s eyes gleamed with an idea. “I could ask the foreign bordering land,” he suggested. Jungwon hadn’t even processed it before Somin was nodding enthusiastically.

“That is smart. I have researcher friends on the other side. Fire Lineages,” she said, laying down the plan. “I have been meeting them a lot. They would happily house you, Jongie.”

Jungwon had one tiny protest. That proposition was based on no leads, motive, or even victims, as dark as it sounded. It was crossing a road blind for an inevitable car crash before the investigation even began.

“Before that,” Jungwon interrupted the Parks’ shared epiphany, “we need to check the areas and find clues. If it is a cause for concern, we can get the court involved—”

“Speaking of court,” Jongseong said, whipping his eyes towards Jungwon with mischief. He leaned forward, grinning in a way that made Jungwon rub his one temple. “You lost it against Soul Bearer Lady Sim!”

There it was. Jungwon exhaled something close to snapping as the Parks practically leaned over their spaces, gasping with too much curiosity for their own good. The avalanche of questions hit him instantly.

“I have heard of Lady Sim,” said Sehyun.

“She was impressive against our Jungwon,” his father rejoiced with celebration.

“Won Bon did well,” his mother chimed with glittering praise.

“Someone as powerful as her matches—” Jay had tried to say before Jungwon abruptly stood, eyes of oblivion icing each of their excited interjections into a stunned silence. Then, he slowly exhaled again.

“We are not going to talk about the prophecy.” Jungwon stabbed a stare into each person. “We are going to have tea and forget this conversation ever came up.”

He was embarrassed to say the least. His ego had taken a step down a huge ladder, and that was enough to crumble his sense of duty.

Jiwon slithered over the icy defence and tugged him back to his seat. Obedient, he did, but her lips were in a slight pout.

“Won Bon, we can not reject that prophecy. It is important. A tradition almost,” she explained, voice somehow flattening the jagged refusal frozen in his chest.

“I know,” he said with a sigh. “But centuries have passed, and nothing has flourished from it. Quite frankly, I am beginning to deny it.”

The table became smoky with a suffocating silence that drifted from his brittle confession. In that moment, Jiwon sent a desperate plea to her husband via their gazes. Jihoon exhaled, leaning forward with steepled fingers on the table.

“Look, Jungwon, it may not come true. I know. But if tension rises and we need a new ability, then it is going to have to be an option,” he declared in the voice that directed junior reapers to be merciless. Jungwon felt the small part of him shrink under his gaze.

He was of age. He always shaped himself for whatever form duty came as. But, marriage? To the person who sliced his ego within hours? It was a disturbing revelation he couldn’t settle with.

Marriage itself scared him. Having to care and tend to someone other than himself. The furthest he doted on someone was his mother and father. If anything happened to them, it would be a failure of his whole existence.

The prophecy sat on his mind, perched like a crow ready to pick at him at a ready moment.

── ⋮ ꒰ঌ ໒꒱ˎˊ˗ ✿

IT HAD BEEN NINE DAYS SINCE YOU WON AGAINST JUNGWON IN THAT TRIAL.

Ever since then, you were working shift after shift. That had only been because there was an influx of bodies coming in, and then dying a few hours later when no one could save them. Grim Reapers came and went, and that had been the reminder of what you had won, and who you had shot down.

It was normal for Reapers to come to the ward you worked in, but there had been a cluster at the beginning of the week, discussing in a secret huddle before departing the Healer’s ward again. Not a single word to you. And even your parents were sceptical as to why they kept coming and going.

Today was a Sunday and still an awfully productive day.

The Healer’s ward had pale blue walls, warm lights sprinkling down the rooms, and beds kept together with a curtain separating each other. The beds had referred, unconscious patients sleeping on them, their souls on a clear display for Bearers.

One man had just been wheeled into the curtain section, and you were there, scrolling on your tablet, examining his details. The man was in his twenties, had a clean-cut wound to his side, which was thankfully stitched up before the man’s condition deteriorated, and he was very much passed out.

But not dead. His soul, in your eyes, was a flickering ball of smoke that glowed silver and blue, floating over the man like it was confused. It connected to the main by a wispy string that emerged from his chest.

Placing the tablet down, you conjured your wand from your right hand, the bracelet shifting colours until it formed. Your wand was pale blue and pink, bedazzled with shimmering gems climbing the wood until it hit the core. There, two clear bands spanned to a heart shape, which had wisps shifting within them. At the centre of the heart, a pink mist gem glowed with life even in shadows.

You had just about clutched it when a cold prickle suddenly arose at the back of your neck. In an instant, you whipped around and flinched as Jungwon appeared like lightning.

In all his glory, he stood over you with broad shoulders fitted in his charcoal Reaper attire, silver adorning his torso in small chains. His hair was wavy, falling just above his feline gaze where obsidian sat heavily with scrutiny, taking you in wholly. He held a scythe as tall as him, sharp-bladed and curved at the top, while the snath had a glassy texture with shadowy storms shifting underneath.

You swallowed, clutching your wand like a weapon at your tight chest. “Lord Yang?” You forced your shoulders to deflate.

Jungwon didn’t blink as he tried to match your initial encounter to the one right before him. Except, he was confused because they didn’t match at all.

“Lady Sim.” He nodded once without straying from the scrutiny.

He was still judging you, you noted.

“Can I help you with anything? You are in the Healer’s ward,” you said, steadying your voice from the initial icy anxiety. Jungwon raised an amused brow as he noted your nervous tics that jumped into your heartbeat.

How did he lose to you, he wondered.

“Yes. I assume you noticed the bodies coming into the hospital?” He asked, gaze travelling over the man behind you, and past the curtains, counting the exact number in this room alone without seeing them. His scythe was practically fuelling the innate urge to take the souls already.

Jungwon was a Grim Reaper—he couldn’t be blamed.

You nodded, trying to connect the dots. “Yes. I assume you know something?”

“There have been a few accidents recently. All around the border and without explanation. They died without witnesses and under abnormal circumstances,” he explained, nudging his chin to the man over your uniformed shoulder. The soul, to Jungwon, was a sphere carrying dark, shifting mist that he could gauge the weight of. More weight meant the soul bore too much to stay alive.

Jungwon wished it was, but you were right there with sympathy that he couldn’t be bothered to understand.

“So, are they victims of the same crime?” You asked curiously.

“From what I can see, possibly. Lord Jongseong and I are in charge of the case, but there hasn’t been much progress.” He stepped closer to the man, and you followed until you and he faced the victim. “I can never seem to get an actual statement. A very empty file, you could imagine.”

“You want to question him, then?” You inquired, wand already gleaming in your palms. Jungwon stood just at your shoulder, scythe distanced, and gave a simple nod for the go.

The tip of your wand levelled with the flickering, misty sphere, connecting to the threads of magic reaching your fingertips. The soul flickered again, hooking onto the wand’s core as you steadily guided it towards the man’s chest. The light disappeared into him, colour flourishing through his skin once more as you retracted your wand. The heart monitor was stable. You watched the man’s face intently for the slightest action.

After a few seconds, the man’s eyes fluttered open to the hospital ceiling with a foggy gaze. You were a blob of colour above him, shifting back to give him space. That movement itself exposed Jungwon and his friend. The mist left his vision when the dark, metal scythe undeniably came into view like an unsaid threat.

His eyes shot wide with panic, screaming.

Jungwon’s brows sank with offence. You gently pushed the man back into the bed, trying to hush his terror from reaching the other sleeping patients.

“Sir, you’re in the hospital,” you said over his pitchy breaths. He sputtered, pointing a shaky finger in the same direction, and you realised he was terrified of the scythe.

Jungwon was stony, not seeing the problem. You shot a desperate look.

“Can you put that away?” You asked deftly, shoulders deflating.

Jungwon sighed at the hindrance, but let the scythe fall to dark dust that ran up his fingers and formed the cuff again. Crossing his arms, totally unimpressed, he approached the cowering man hiding behind his blanket.

You rolled your eyes. Empathy wasn’t one of Jungwon’s pillars.

“Lord Yang is only here to question you,” you assured the man, peeling the blanket back a little. Instantly, he pulled it back to his chin, staring with wide, unbridled fear at Jungwon.

“So… I’m not dying?” He croaked.

“No, I’m not here for that,” Jungwon spoke, his voice a low tone of ridicule. “I need a statement from before you passed out.”

The man swallowed hard, eyes fluttering profusely as he sorted through the memories. Even then, there was a foggy confusion in place as he slumped into the bed. His anxiety practically rippled over your skin like a tide.

“I was taking a walk. I l-live near that path. I always took that path. And then, I felt something cold when I was about to enter the forest area.” He shuddered, eyes screwing shut as he relived the pain. “Something hit me from behind. And then… I woke up here.”

An attack, clearly. Aside from his initial theory of string suicides, this was the first person with an alternate reason. He wasn’t exactly relieved because if someone were having it out for random civilians, then fear would erupt from every corner of the land. On the other hand, keeping it a secret was just as dangerous.

“We shall let you rest, Sir,” you said softly before picking up your tablet and exiting his space. You drew the curtain shut behind Jungwon as he followed.

It was just you and him now.

His hand flexed, gaze drifting to the rest of the curtains within the room. A soul was dying. He knew you could feel it too. For you, it was a spark switching off in the circuit of your chest.

Jungwon glanced with a tinge of mockery. “Can I take the soul for death?” He asked, tilting his head in this infuriatingly smug way.

“Yes, you can,” you replied, voice sharpening. “I do, however, think you are a bit salty, Lord Yang.”

Your brief boldness stirred something in his hollow gaze. Straightening to his height, Jungwon returned your haughty stare with a burning one of his own. “Salty? No, I just want to do my job, Lady Sim.” He leaned in slightly, making you tip your chin to follow his mirrored stubbornness. “You wound me.”

Before you could react to his vain words, he walked past like a shadow, leaving you there with your own breath caught in the web of your chest.

What an asshole.

── ⋮ ꒰ঌ ໒꒱ˎˊ˗ ✿

THE PARKS DID NOT HAVE GOOD NEWS.

“Lady Yunah threatened you?” Jungwon sighed, trying to decrypt what Lady Somin was doing. His fingers dug into the side of the armchair, anxiety brewing in small doses. Methodically, his index finger tapped the fancy fabric. “I thought it was a friendly talk?”

Somin sighed, sitting opposite Jungwon and his parents. “It was. But, you know how impulsive Jay is,” she explained with prickling guilt. It wasn’t good enough. He jeopardised a whole route Jungwon planned, and now, he had to craft another as if the week wasn’t busy enough.

“It sounded like an accusation, I have to admit,” she said, fiddling with her Reaper cuff snug on her wrist. She was here alone since Jongseong was still in the foreign land of fire and water, out for investigations.

Jungwon didn’t bother to focus on that. What he was focusing on was how the foundations of this murder case were already crumbling before he started.

Jiwon, beside him, tutted despite the softness brimming in her eyes. “Somin…”

“I know. They did not appreciate it, obviously, and denied having anything to do with it,” she explained, gaze dipping with worry.

“So, we have gotten nowhere,” Jihoon clarified, voice also flooded with exasperation, rubbing his one temple.

It was nothing. After a week of potential murder victims, the only scrap Jungwon collected was the short statement that added nothing to the bigger picture. He had dust in his case file. Nothing was coming together.

The talk went bad as well. Tensions were arising. Jungwon felt the proposition ghost over the room before anyone said it. His guts twisted.

“We still have the prophecy,” Somin reminded meekly.

There it was. Exhaling with denial bolted into his words, he spoke. “There must be other options other than diving straight into marriage?”

“Jungwon, what else can be done?” Somin interjected the way a mother would scold a child and harshly steer them in a direction. The sympathy was a feather in her gaze, and it reached his parents, tickling them into a contemplative silence.

He tensed, disbelief striking his spine into a straight pin.

“Mother, Father, you cannot be considering marriage—”

“Son…” Jihoon began in a tone that corroded the walls of his confidence. “It has almost been two weeks since the murders have arisen in the city, and there is not one lead. Most of the victims are dead, there are no witnesses, and CCTV were absent in all places.”

Jungwon’s refusal and panic intertwined into a tight noose as he saw the direction of this. They were agreeing with Somin and the drastic jump to such a resolution. Contempt pricked him like shards. They always had to let the Parks have a say in a decision and colour the bigger picture where Jungwon didn’t need them.

“What if you had a union with… Lady Sim, and unlocked an ability to help solve this?” Jihoon suggested, creeping into territory that had Jungwon clenching his jaw.

“It is a gamble, Father,” Jungwon interjected, exhaling another stream of trapped protests.

“I know that, Son. But what if it worked? It would not be so bad,” Jihoon remarked with a softness that was overridden by Jungwon’s flaming disagreement.

Jiwon softly touched Jungwon’s arm, rubbing encouragement into his elbow. Jungwon’s gaze dipped before he could burn his family to ashes.

“Even if the prophecy does not work, you are of age, Jungwon,” said Somin. Jungwon chained his curt gaze to the table rather than the Park sitting before him, trying to convince him that this was normal. “And those bodies can be stored in my husband’s freezer at the GRA mortuary.”

Jungwon nodded on the outside. On the inside, he wanted to die, but unfortunately for him, Grim Reapers held an inhuman strength that shielded them from Death.

“Won Bon, don’t be so upset. Lady Sim could introduce a whole new perspective to you. And I would get a daughter!” Jiwon assured, smiling gently. Jungwon stiffened at those words. Ice hammered into his ribs, making it harder to breathe as he shut his eyes in the silence. Until his sternum cleared, he swallowed hard as it passed.

Jungwon had a duty, and this was his next one.

—

YOU WERE RUNNING.

Running from your parents, that was.

Through the winding hospital halls and bewildered patients, you just about made it to the reception when your mother snagged your elbow. It sent you yelping as she hauled you to the counter. On your other arm, your father steadied you and didn’t let go. Both were breathing hard, disbelief staining their usual understanding.

“Sim Y/n! How dare you run from your own parents?!” She exclaimed, thoroughly out of breath as she placed a hand on her chest.

“It is not my fault when you are chasing me with an absurd proposal!” You frowned, shooting both of them an exasperated look. You tried to keep quiet, but your panic was clearly crossing the boundaries. “Of course, I am going to run!”

“The Yangs contacted us—”

“And?” You retorted sharply, tugging at your arms, but they were stuck. “You are listening to them over your own daughter?” You scoffed incredulously.

Both of your parents sighed in unison. Your mother was the one to huff. “You are worse than Jaeyun at listening.”

You gaped. “I am not—”

“The point is, Y/n, you are of age, the prophecy exists, and they sent us a proposal to meet,” your father interfered with your useless argument.

“Depending on a prophecy is a silly reason to wed. This is my life,” you bristled, voice dropping into deep lament, eyes desperate. It wasn’t fair that they were unleashing this on you.

Your mother released your arm with a sigh to tuck a strand behind your ear. “I know, my love, but you are the highest-ranking Soul Bearer of age. I would advise Jake, but…” Your mother trailed off, giving an uncertain sideways glance.

“He likes Heeseung?” You sulked.

“Yes, he’s hopeless.” Your father sighed. “He must have been bewitched—”

“Yoon Darling,” your mother chastised with a sideways glare. Your father nodded, but that thought was still clouding his mind.

“Just give it a chance. Meet him, see if there is something, and if there isn’t, then we’ll let it go,” she explained, doing nothing to convince you. The anxiety still lingered around your chest, prickling you with everything that could go wrong.

Then came the thought that you weren’t just a daughter anymore. You also had to act your part of the duty no matter how much you didn’t want to. It was just that marriage was a level up from where you were now.

There was nothing you could do. Not when your parents were still stringing along this expectation so you could follow. Well, if meeting Jungwon, who was too salty for his own good, was the solution, then you had to try.

── ⋮ ꒰ঌ ໒꒱ˎˊ˗ ✿

THE YANG ESTATE WAS TOO BIG.

It wasn’t anything you hadn’t seen before. Your own home was lavish and generous with its high ceilings and comfortable warm tones, but this was another level of luxury.

Jungwon’s home was different shades of golden and cream.

You and your family were sitting in a huge lounge with yellow patterned walls, with five floor-to-ceiling windows letting in the noon sunshine. The room was adorned with drawers and tables of delicate little knick-knacks that probably were touched once in their entire lifespan, and the camelback couch you were sitting on had pillows softer than a single feather.

You could feel it behind your back right now. Under your ivory dress with green embroidered leaves on the bodice, you marvelled at how soft everything was here. The dress you wore had fluttering sleeves that rippled down your legs, intricate lace details drawing attention to you like a cloud lone in a blue sky.

You didn’t want to wear something so… formal and extravagant, but your mother ignored you and paired emerald earrings with a long chain to the back of your half-tied hair. In summary, you felt overdressed for such a meeting.

Your mother was on your right, your father on your left, and Jaeyun was sitting alone on another couch.

Thinking it over now, you wondered how you ended up here. You weren’t great at talking to people. Your closest friends were Minju from your school life, and Heeseung, who had sunshine for a personality.

Heeseung would have beamed at you in this gown, and told you to go all in for the opportunity. He saw no wrongs in a situation, and found positivity in anything. Heeseung was as shy as you, so connecting was easier than with anyone else you had met. Other than the two of them, your own mind chained you away from socialising freely.

It was why, even now when Jungwon was imminent on entering the same space, you felt the steel anxiety drill into your joints, making it momentarily hard to move. You tried to sit straight. Then, you kept your eyes ahead and then dropped the strings when it felt too real like this.

“You look like you are about to shit yourself—”

Your mother glared at Jaeyun. “Language.”

“I was just saying.” He sheepishly smiled, fluffy hair already disobeying the earlier hair brushing. He was as serious as a marshmallow. You couldn’t find comfort from him.

In the posh peace of this lounge, it hit you like thunder that you were about to meet with Death himself. You almost flinched back to reality.

The door handle jostled and opened at the thunder in your back. Entering was Lady Jiwon in a navy gown, Lord Yang Jihyun in a matching blue suit, and the main root of all your anxiety.

Jungwon wore pure charcoal with shimmering grey swirls woven into his blazer, with a fitted waist jacket that had a chain dangling delicately from the small breast pocket. A black tie nestled at the base of his honey throat, accentuating his stupidly broad shoulders.

It was his eyes beneath wavy hair that forced a memory of your first encounter into vision.

They were so dark, sitting like obsidian atop your face, like he wanted to carve the judgement into your skin. You had absolutely no idea what he was feeling in the void behind his irises.

His mother, you recognised as Lady Jiwon from surface-level research, approached with the most pearliest smile.

“I am so delighted everyone made it,” she exclaimed happily. Much more joyous than Jungwon. She brought Lord Yang forward, hands interlocked. “My husband, Jihoon.”

Jihoon bowed his head a little, smiling with a dimple. Did Jungwon have a dimple? “Pleasure to meet everyone.”

“We are honoured,” said your father, getting up to shake Jihoon’s hand firmly before sitting. “I am Yoon. My wife here is Mei, and Jaeyun is our elder son.”

A fluffy smile slipped past Jaeyun’s lips like instinct.

Then, Jiwon brought Jungwon forward with a small, frantic wave of her hand. Obliging to her, he slowly walked forward and bowed his head in greeting.

“Nice to meet everyone,” he murmured with a voice gripping onto control.

At your time to stand, Jiwon’s eyes sparked into fireworks as she smiled. She took your hands, thumbing over your knuckles. “You must be Lady Sim Y/n, the one my Son met in court. You are such a beauty!”

Warmth hit your cheeks. Jihoon smiled. Jungwon, on the other hand, looked like he was verifying that last bit when his eyes dragged slowly over your features.

“Thank you.”

Everyone sat down in their designated space, waiting as maids brought tea in expensive, untouchable ceramics and pastries made for display. You hadn’t moved an inch, focused on itching the anxiety out of your thumb.

You were too focused on whether you were sitting straight or slouching. Or if Jungwon was waiting for you to do that. His gaze was practically carved into your face.

Jaeyun sent a discreet smile behind his teacup, wiggling his brows that conjured a violent wave in you from his deceptive facade.

“As you know, there has been an influx of murders around the borders,” Jihoon began after a sip, dampening the atmosphere.

“Yes, Y/n told us some of it,” Yoon said, his tone dissipating from that initial joy. Silence from your end as your gaze stayed locked on the table.

Jungwon sensed the hitch in your heartbeat. It was a constantly rapid pace ever since you got here. The meeting was well past brief impressions, so he knew it wasn’t targeted at that. No. This pace had been troubling you for a while. Jungwon narrowed his investigative gaze as he sipped his tea.

In your place, your mother cleared her throat. “And, when we got the proposal, we were all…” she gave a subtle sideways glance at your sulky, lowered eyes, “… very pleased.”

Jiwon grinned. “I am glad. Won Bon—”

“Mother,” Jungwon grumbled, making Jiwon smile sheepishly. You caught the distaste when you briefly met eyes. Sheepishly, she smiled in a way that smoothed the anxious knots in your spine.

“My Jungwon is so work-oriented. It took a while to convince him,” she said gently, ignoring Jungwon’s shrivelling nonchalance. Pink dusted his cheeks in a way that almost made him look… shy. You wanted to question how someone like him could do that.

“Oh, we had to chase our daughter down,” Yoon added impishly. The room erupted in small laughter as you stiffened at the memory. Jungwon, from the other side of the couch, slowly raised a brow, trying to imagine you running away. Warmth drowned your cheeks again as his gaze dragged over your face with flames.

You turned back to your tea.

“Jungwon is just as stubborn. When he lost the court case—”

Jungwon straightened, gaze whipping to his father. “The Prophecy… please.”

Jihoon smiled, expecting it. “Right. We proposed this because of the well-known prophecy. Currently, there are no leads, no evidence indicating a clear direction. We hoped unlocking the ability would possibly help solve it all,” Jihoon explained, too serious for the denial homed in your head.

“Even if the ability doesn’t help the murder cases, it is still special if it is known to us,” Jiwon added with a signature smile.

None of this made sense to you. The protests were already burning your tongue, observing how they must have already made their decisions. It was unfair. However, you had to people-please everyone.

Delivering what they expected of you to gain a shred of validation. Working in the hospital as a Soul Bearer and handling the delicate packages of life meant no mistakes. The fragile version of yourself you crafted for them was nothing without being right. Soul Bearing made it clear that it shouldn’t even be a scenario in your head.

The conversation droned on about union possibility, about working together, and new perspectives. Each one had you holding your voice as fate was strategised in front of you. Jungwon was silent as you were, his hand flexing momentarily because the whole thing strengthened his sense of duty again.

One more level for both you and him.

“We shall let you two converse,” Mei said, squeezing your shoulder softly in encouragement. You felt anything but that.

Jihoon sent a look to Jungwon that said to “be kind”, and then was the one to close you and him into the lounge.

The door clicked shut. Silence hung between you since it was much more comforting than to confront whatever was going to happen in the near future.

Discomfort invaded your nerves and forced you to trace the neatly-cut portraits and sunlight peeking through the fluttering curtains. He was still probing your face from afar.

“Do you like summer?” Jungwon asked in a low voice, following your gaze to his sunny windows. He leaned back, a leg crossed over the other, a head tilted with increasing interest.

“I think so. However, I do not like it for so long.” You glanced away from the intense void sitting in his eyes. He raised an inquisitive brow.

“Strange words,” he commented dryly.

“Meaning?” You returned, gaze narrowing.

“Meaning what do you like then?” Jungwon crossed his arms, capturing your eyes within one second. A skip flashed through your heart at his attention.

You glanced at the glass windows once more. “Every season, but not for a long period. Except Spring. It rains too much.”

Jungwon’s lips twitched in amusement at your absurdity, but he remembered he wasn’t supposed to be laughing at you like a comrade. He was still petty over the lost trial, and that alone smoothed his emotions straight.

“I like Spring,” he stated, blinking in a way that was far too serious. “I like the rain.”

Your smirk was subtle and swift. “Of course you do.”

“What do you mean by that?” Jungwon now remarked quietly, his small glare carving into you.

“Spring rain never goes away. Like your grudges, Lord Yang,” you answered, letting go of decorum now. His face fell, nonchalance unravelling right before your eyes as he leaned forward, as if he could physically dig into your mind.

“The Spring rain is a transitional period where the blooms are born after a hard winter.” Jungwon steepled his fingers.

“How poetic.” You cracked the smallest, incredulous smile before reality pulled at your chest once more. This wasn’t some enjoyable meeting with Death. It was a negotiation for marriage.

You hesitantly met his eyes. The hostility wasn’t as present anymore, but there was still a boundary stopping you from seeing his emotions on the other side. He was staring too. There was no hiding about it.

“How are we supposed to fulfil something almost imaginary?” You asked quietly, fingers digging into your lap.

“I don’t know,” he replied after a few quiet seconds. It was a gamble, and he knew you knew it too. Some common ground there.

“Then, what does it entail? To… make this prophecy true?” You asked carefully. Your parents never told you in full how one connected to it. All you knew was that a wand and scythe were needed for it.

His gaze wandered a little before landing on you like he was trying to creep into the territory without scaring you. “My parents have said it a few times…” He got to his feet, cautiously approaching with a generous slowness. “We need to let the wand and scythe touch, and they say you fall into a ‘trance’…” he stopped for a contemplative second, searching.

You spared a look at his shadowy cuff that shone. “Or?”

“Some say in bed,” he stated casually.

“What?” You exclaimed with pinched brows.

He shut his eyes regretfully before opening them. “Not like that. I mean, in a sleep state in bed. You know how sleep works, right?”

“When we sleep, our souls are detached from the body.” You nodded.

“That means, outside the body, our souls can interact. That is one of the ways.” He watched as you stood and began to saunter to the big windows. Following, he scanned the curve of your waist, how your hair draped flawlessly behind your back, and the delicate jewel sat in the sea of your strands.

He strolled along until he lingered behind you.

You realised how stupidly tall he was. “What happens when you… take a soul for death?”

Jungwon was surprised at your interest, considering you wanted to burn holes into his head the other day, but he looked past your face and to the florals bobbing by in the wind outside.

“When I’m delivering them to death, I go to this specific place. Death Meadow is what I call it. Dark, vast—a field, and it’s where Reapers go,” Jungwon replied, recalling the dim skies and the long grass brushing his knees.

You frowned. “Is that all it looks like?”

“Did you expect a castle?” He mused, his deep voice rippling down your spine.

“A field is hardly exciting,” you mumbled, crossing your arms almost in defence. He chuckled curtly.

“Death is hardly exciting,” he said back quietly. Your profile exposed the curve of your nose, or your lips, which, he had to admit, complemented your… facial harmony.

“I know,” you muttered back, sighing. After a few terse seconds, you rolled out your right hand, letting the bracelet morph into the signature wand. “We should try, shouldn’t we?”

Jungwon’s chest swelled with the anticipation of it. If there was something, though he didn’t know what, then a marriage was inevitable. A wedding. A life with you. The person he had nearly cursed out loud sixteen days ago. Thinking back to it, maybe he was overreacting, but then the thought crumbled as his ego ached.

You watched his face shift with thoughts, probably knowing how real this all was. The finality hammered through your chest until breathing felt tiring. This was it. And there was only one way to find out.

Wordlessly, you inched the wand forward towards his scythe, ignoring the apprehension twisting violently in your guts.

You shared a look that he mirrored: this would seal their fates into one path.

The scythe touched first. Blade met gem, and instantly, a heavy wave rippled from your chest to the base of your spine, activating some other part within you had no experience with. It thrummed in your ears and smoked the space behind your eyes. Bewildered, you glanced at Jungwon and froze when his irises glowed.

No void. His eyes had a corona of something white that haunted his now brown irises. He looked personal. Human. Normal.

Jungwon’s breath hitched as blue slithered and lit your own eyes homed the mist that felt as if they had always been there in the shadows. Inside, his body rattled like fabric shifting over one another, creating friction and warmth that was too energetic to handle.

You departed first, wand clutched to your chest with ferocity. Jungwon’s scythe fell back into a cuff, catching his curt breath that escaped his control. The silence was a sentence on both you and him before Jungwon sighed.

“You felt that, did you not?” He asked, eyes averted.

You nodded once. “Yes.” Your tone was eroded by anxiety.

“And you know what that means?” He glanced at you again, where acceptance was absent from your stance. Your shoulders were stiff when you tentatively returned his gaze, which was a void once more. “My parents shall talk to yours. For a union.”

He turned, ready to walk out, but your uncertainty followed after him a few steps. “Do you want to get married?” You couldn’t help it. This whole thing had to be turning his axis too.

That made him stop, shoulders shifting beneath like he was preparing a practised answer. It was a second late. A second of hesitance you spotted in yourself. You thought he would be real for a second, but he straightened like a stone wall again.

“I don’t have to want to. I need to,” he answered in a resolved tone before continuing his stride towards the closed doors. His heart protested in angry stomps, which he ignored.

You felt it, however. His worth anchored his shoulders, fragile as it was huge on him. It curled, a monster he efficiently tucked away.

That was enough to tell you he wasn’t going to back out.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━˚₊‧꒰ა ♡ ໒꒱‧₊˚━━━━━━━━━━━━━

── .✦ [NOTES]: okay, did yall like this? You can tell I gave up in the end with proof reading this. Also, I am on holiday, but I had no wifi for a bit, and now I do. So, I haven't written anything LMFAO. But, even then, I hope you guys liked this! <3

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