Chapter Text
The room Kiyoung awakens in is not his own.
For starters, this bed is actually pretty comfortable–laden with the softest pillows and blankets–nothing like the old mattress and sheets he and Yulha share at home. On top of that, the room seems lived in, filled with trinkets and papers from what seems to be an entire variety of places. The sight fills him with bitterness, the place just a reminder of all the love and care given to anyone but him and his sister.
Oh, but ignoring that, another reason why Kiyoung knows this isn’t his room is the older woman who’s been staring at him the entire time.
“Oppa,” she starts with a smile. “You really gave everyone a scare, looking like this again. Honestly, you should stop running off to wherever those gods want. I thought Hyunsung was going to go on a murder-spree until we found you.”
… Oppa? Fuck, is she delusional? She’s got a good fifteen, twenty years on him–what kind of absurd self-confidence is this?
Tilting her head, the woman’s mouth forms a small pout. “Don’t stare at me so silently like that, I’m getting embarrassed. Are you that stunned seeing a beauty after going missing for a few weeks?”
“...That’s right.” The noona in front of him isn’t ugly, and could be considered rather nice-looking with her short brown hair and lightly done makeup, but a beauty? Kiyoung forces a beaming smile, and makes his voice a little softer, a little cuter–something that would surely appeal to a vain woman. “I’m sorry, I didn’t think the Noona that kidnapped me would be so pretty.”
“How many more times will I have to tell you that I’m younger–” Her brows furrow in confusion. “Kidnapped? Isn’t that play getting old, and anyways, Hyunsung isn’t even here.”
Kiyoung’s starting to lose his patience. “Where’s Yulha?” Last he remembers, they were walking back home together, so the kidnappers must have her as well, if she wasn’t able to escape. Yulha is a survivor, sure, but–she’s still so young . And if Kiyoung can’t save her, then who else will?
“You…” She bites her lip, and worry fills her eyes. For her to look so concerned, something more troubling may be afoot. Either way, Kiyoung has to be prepared for anything. “Do you really not know who I am? It’s Jihye. This isn’t funny anymore, Oppa.”
Kiyoung’s hands–so tiny, so weak, so incapable of protecting anyone–clench the blankets. “Should I know you?”
Jihye mutters something to herself, seemingly lost in thought. They sit there in a stalemate, before being interrupted by a knock at the door. “Excuse me,” she says, standing up. Her smile is wry, and Kiyoung knows there’s more behind it, but he can’t figure out what. “Just… wait a little bit. Don’t do anything dangerous, there’s a lot of things in here you wouldn’t want to touch. Then again, the real danger lies outside of this room.”
The instant Jihye leaves, Kiyoung springs from the bed. He starts searching for anything that could be used in self defense–lucky enough, the room seems to have belonged to a chemist, with vials upon vials in the shelves and drawers. A chemist, or some sort of holy man, based on the snow white robes.
Not that it matters. He can’t imagine devoting himself to some ‘higher power.’ If there’s anything like a god out there, it sure hasn’t ever helped him . The only person Kiyoung can depend on is himself.
Suddenly, he hears frantic footsteps–it’s a whole horde of people, the never-ending stomps growing louder and louder. Kiyoung just grabs whatever is available, a whole assortment of potions cradled in one arm, and one in his hand–ready to throw at any moment’s notice.
The person who opens the door isn’t Jihye, but instead a very handsome man. The most handsome Kiyoung has ever seen, even compared to those on TV. But the expression on his face, desperate and raw, fills Kiyoung with a feeling akin to panic–probably because the man is in goddamn armor , with a sword at his side. An irrational person with a blade is the worst kind of person to encounter–
And? Everyone?? Seems to have a weapon??? Kiyoung might be doomed–he holds the vials a little bit tighter. He’s been kidnapped by cultists, or even LARPers. LARPer cultists, perhaps. He raises a potion high above his head, shouting, “I’ll throw if even one of you comes closer!”
“Oh, we’re fine to come in then,” a woman with tied up hair tries to whisper to their group, as they all shuffle in, leaving only a little space. “It’s just a healing potion.”
Kiyoung grabs another vial, white this time, and revels in the way they all flinch. He’s not too sure what it does, but based on how they’re all sweating, it’s got to be good. “Stay. Where’s Yulha?”
“Y-You really don’t recognize us, Hyung?” A large, pig-like man starts sobbing, while another girl clad in pink cries out for her oppa. Are all of these people delusional, or are they all younger than eleven ?
“Fuck, of course I don’t!” As the words come out of Kiyoung’s mouth, the first man starts to pant and heave, his eyes glazing over.er That’s… probably not good. Even so, he continues, “And what did I say about staying back? Just because I’m a kid, that doesn’t mean you can look down on me.”
He’s dealt with enough shitty adults in his admittedly short lifetime, and now will be no different. Somehow, he’s got to escape and find Yulha, and then they can run away from these weirdos.
“We’re not looking down on you,” the ponytail-having woman pleads. There’s something in Kiyoung that compels him to trust her, but the gut instinct only puts him on the defensive. After all, it’s a little hard to trust someone that’s wielding a fucking spear . “You don’t recognize me either? It’s Hyejin, your best friend…”
“It sure feels like you’re looking down on me,” Kiyoung mutters. “And why would I be best friends with a weirdo like you? Why would you be best friends with an eleven-year-old?”
Her hurt expression doesn’t bother Kiyoung at all, but he doesn’t look at Hyejin after that outburst. “Why are you all…” Droplets fall onto the floor beneath him, sliding off the potions in his arms. They all have fancy equipment, but they can’t be bothered to fix their roof, typical. “Why can’t people just leave us alone… We’re just trying to live…”
“Are you… crying?” Somebody asks, but Kiyoung can’t tell with his vision blurry. “Please don’t cry, Vice-Guildmaster…”
“I’m not crying.” His voice sounds so weak, why? Kiyoung can barely choke out the words. This is too embarrassing. He needs to find his sister. He can’t help anyone like this. “I’m not crying. I’m not.”
“Kiyoung.” They all call out his name, the cacophony painful, overwhelming, just too much . It needs to stop. He needs to make it stop.
He raises both arms above his head. There’s a lot of shouts. Worried shouts, not scared ones. Why is that? He throws the potions down.
That first man rushes at him, arm outstretched, dull gaze now full of panic.
None of that matters now.
There is light. It’s blinding. It’s warm.
And then there’s darkness, a flurry of pitch-black feathers.