Chapter Text
Eunseok had landed in Ingeol by accident, brought by a summer storm that had swept his broom off course just as he was crossing the Wanjeong Hills. Since he had always wanted to live by the sea, and Wonbin too fell in love with the frequent whiffs of fish in the air, he decided he might as well set up his business there. It didn't seem like there were many reputable witches in town, anyway, as they got many curious glances from the locals on their first stroll through the market — Eunseok with his broom and wind-tangled hair, Wonbin perched on his shoulder, staring at passersby with too much intelligence.
They found a small, crooked shop wedged between a lantern-maker and a salt-curer’s hut, its windows fogged with sea spray and its door hanging slightly askew. The sign above it had long since faded, but Eunseok took it as a good omen, an empty space waiting to be filled. It took him some days to fix the shop up enough to be habitable — there was a leak in the roof that groaned during high tide, and barnacles had made a slow conquest of one of the rear walls — but he didn’t mind. There was something charming about the way the floor slanted slightly toward the sea, as if the building itself longed to be closer to the waves.
Wonbin, of course, had his own opinions. The black cat was particularly vocal about the attic, which he claimed was haunted. Eunseok, used to Wonbin’s dramatic tendencies, ignored the complaints until he heard the sound of something heavy being dragged across the attic floor in the middle of the night, twice. After that, he sealed the attic with a charm and told the ghost (or raccoon, or wayward spirit of mildew) to behave or be exorcised.
The townsfolk didn’t quite know what to make of him. Children peered through the cloudy windows and dared each other to knock on the door. The elderly salt-curer next door muttered blessings every time Eunseok passed, but she also started leaving baskets of dried anchovies on his doorstep "just in case he needed something for his spells." The young lantern-maker, on the other hand, was curious from the start. His name was Shotaro, and he dropped by one evening with a broken wind charm and an offer of ginger tea.
"I heard witches fix things," he said, setting the charm down on the newly cleared counter.
Eunseok looked at the mangled copper frame, the cracked glass. "We do," he said. "But not for free."
Shotaro grinned broadly, digging out a silver coin from his pocket. He was a young man, barely older than Eunseok, and had himself arrived in Ingeol from elsewhere, across the sea. Despite this he seemed to have befriended everyone in town, and word spread quickly. Eunseok mended a fisherman’s torn nets with knotwork charms, brewed a storm-calming salve for a sea captain prone to vertigo, and even helped locate a runaway goat with a dowsing charm (it had been hiding in the lantern-maker’s back garden, eating verbena).
Before long, the crooked little shop was no longer the subject of whispered speculation, but a place people came to with baskets in hand and stories to tell. They came with chipped heirlooms and sleepless nights, asking for tinctures and talismans, for advice, for dreams interpreted or nightmares banished. Eunseok, who had once feared he would spend his life drifting, realized he had begun to anchor.
One morning, a thick fog rolled in off the sea, blanketing the entire village in white. Eunseok opened the door to find the world muffled and quiet, save for the dull clang of the bell on the harbor buoy. It was the sort of day magic liked to twist around, and sure enough, just past noon, the door creaked open with no bell to announce it.
A tall, broad-shouldered man stood there in a damp red cloak, exquisite leather boots soaked through. His brown hair was long, and a diamond sparkled in one of his ears as he looked around the shop with something to akin to amused curiosity, fog swirling around his ankles like an enamoured dog. Eunseok stood behind the counter, a half-filled jar of rosemary in one hand, Wonbin draped needily across his shoulders, stiffening in suspicion.
"You're open?" the man asked, brushing sea mist off his sleeves.
Swallowing the instinctive 'can't you read?', Eunseok nodded. "How I can help?"
The man stepped inside fully, letting the door swing shut behind him with a soft thud. The fog didn’t quite follow, but it pressed against the windowpanes like it wanted to listen in. "It's a charming shop you have. Much neater than mine."
Eunseok's fingers tightened slightly around the jar. "You're a witch?"
"I man indeed. Jung Sungchan, at your service. My shop is up on Main Street."
Eunseok blinked. He had walked down Main Street a dozen times since arriving in Ingeol and had never seen another witch’s shop, not even the hint of one.
"You’re lying," Wonbin said flatly, his tail thumping against Eunseok’s shoulder.
Sungchan’s mouth curved into a grin, one that might have been charming if it weren’t so arrogant. "I've been away in the capital for some months and took my shop with me." He stepped closer to inspect a row of bottled tinctures labeled in careful script. "But I heard there was a new witch in town. Hard not to, with all the gossip going around. The sea captain swears your salve saved his voyage to Hongcheon."
Eunseok didn’t respond, uncertain whether to be pleased or wary. Wonbin leapt lightly from his shoulder to the counter, curling protectively around a bundle of dried yarrow as he watched Sungchan through narrowed eyes.
Sungchan reached into his cloak and pulled out a bundle wrapped in dark green cloth. "I thought I’d bring a little offering," he said, unwrapping it carefully. Inside was a bundle of driftwood, knotted with seaweed and braided with silver wire. A coastal charm, old and potent.
"For your threshold," Sungchan said, placing it gently on the counter. "Wards off the wrong kind of sea spirits. And invites the right ones in."
Eunseok frowned slightly. “What makes you think I can’t make my own?"
"Oh, I’m sure you can," Sungchan said smoothly. "But it’s tradition. When one witch sets up shop in another’s territory, there’s an exchange. A gesture of goodwill. I’m not here to challenge you, Eunseok-ssi. There’s enough magic in Ingeol for the both of us."
Wonbin sneezed loudly, a sound that might have been coincidence or contempt.
Eunseok studied Sungchan, and the charm, for a long moment. Then he nodded. "Alright. Gesture accepted." He reached under the counter, rummaged through a drawer, and came up with a tiny glass vial sealed with red wax. "Storm-sight," he said, placing it next to the driftwood. "For when you can’t see three feet past your doorstep."
Sungchan's eyes lit up. "You made this yourself?"
"I don’t sell things I haven’t made myself," Eunseok said, a bit coolly.
Laughing, Sungchan tucked the vial carefully into a pocket inside his cloak. "Well then. Welcome to Ingeol, Eunseok. Let’s not be strangers." And just like that, he turned and walked out into the fog, the door swinging shut behind him.
Eunseok inspected the charm he’d been given, running his fingers over the braided silver, noting the fine etchings worked into it. The craftsmanship was old, older than Sungchan looked, which of course didn't mean much when it came to witches.
Wonbin hissed softly. "I don’t like him."
"You don’t like most people."
"I really don’t like him."
Eunseok hung the charm above the door anyway. In the morning he got on his broom and flew to Main Street, and sure enough, a new shop had appeared where there had been nothing the day before, between the apothecary and a place that sold dried squid. It was much bigger than Eunseok's shop, with turrets, chimneys and ornate ironwork, more like a steam locomotive than a house. A sign carved from dark wood written in shiting, cursive script read "Sungchan's Curios and Conjurings."
Landing lightly on the street, Eunseok waited until Wonbin had leapt off the broom before pulling on the straw hat he had brought with him as disguise and entering, into a riot of colour and motion. Glowing glass jars floated midair, books fluttered from shelf to shelf like sleepy birds, and a small fire spirit danced merrily in a lantern behind the counter. It was also packed with people, locals and visitors alike, so many that Eunseok found himself pushed and pulled to the front without intending to.
"Hello," the unfamiliar boy behind the counter said upon noticing him kindly. He too had shoulder-length hair, with a soft, rounded silhouette, a pale yellow frock coat, and a red bow tie. "From out of town perhaps?"
"Not exactly," Eunseok said, pushing back his straw hat since it seemed Sungchan was not present.
"Oh!" The boy’s eyes widened with delighted recognition. "You’re the new witch down by the docks! Sungchan-hyung told me all about you. He said you're a sea witch, proper salt-and-storm type. That your cat talks, but only when he wants to be rude."
"That's true," said Wonbin, from his perch on Eunseok’s shoulder. "I also bite."
The boy blinked, then burst into a bright laugh, as did the fire spirit in the lantern, a distinct face appearing in the flames.
Eunseok wasn’t sure how he felt about Sungchan talking about him to his shop assistant, but he tucked that feeling away for later. "And you are?"
"My name is Anton," the boy said, bowing slightly with both hands over his stomach. "I’m apprenticing here. And this is Sohee." He gestured at the lantern.
"Hm," Eunseok said noncommittally, eyes narrowing. Only very powerful witches had fire familiars, but this one seemed rather small. "And what exactly does he teach you?"
"Everything," Anton said brightly. "Currently illusions and glamours. He's very good. People come from all over to see him."
They’re coming here instead of me, Eunseok thought, a bit sourly, though he hated the petty curl of the feeling. His own shop was smaller, simpler, handmade charms, personal brews, one-on-one attention. This place felt like a theater, albeit a very successful one.
"Is there something you’re looking for?" Anton asked kindly.
"No," Eunseok said, a bit too fast. "I just wanted to see it for myself." He turned on his heel and pushed his way back out to his broom, floating above the street. "Not a threat, huh," he muttered, jaw tight.
Over the next week, fewer townsfolk came by than usual. The old salt-curer still brought anchovies, but she also mentioned how fancy Sungchan’s place was, how his tea steamed itself and how his fortune-cards always knew your favorite color. Shotaro, ever neutral, came by with a bottle of candied ginger and diplomatically said, "You’re both very different kinds of witch. He’s... shiny."
Eunseok scowled.
Shotaro smiled carefully. "Maybe you should come to the Harvest Market this year. People need to see you again. Remind them you’re the one who stopped the wind from toppling the lighthouse last month."
"I didn’t stop it. I just convinced it to blow in a different direction."
"Exactly." Shotaro patted his shoulder. "No one else in town can talk to the wind like that."
So Eunseok made plans. The Harvest Market was only a few days away, and he had much to prepare for his booth. He dusted off the folding table, gathered his best tinctures, and even brought out the big copper pot from under the stairs, the one he used only for special brews, and began preparing a batch of his moon-thistle honey, a rare concoction that soothed everything from cracked voices to grieving hearts. As a final touch he made Wonbin wear a red ribbon collar.
"I'm a familiar," Wonbin snapped.
"You can be a cute familiar."
By the time the market opened, the sun had finally broken through the fog. Stalls bloomed across the harbor square, fluttering with pennants and smelling of grilled octopus, roasted chestnuts, and late-blooming lilacs. Eunseok set up beneath a blue awning and lit a candle woven with marigold and basil to draw in good luck.
He didn’t have to wait long, a trickle of curious customers turned into a steady stream, mostly older townsfolk at first, the loyal ones, then curious newcomers who eyed the jars of memory-restoring balm and the driftwood pendants carved with wave sigils. Eunseok offered readings in sea glass, sold charms and soaps, and even did a quick wind-knotting demonstration for a group of wide-eyed children.
And then, of course, Sungchan appeared, strolling through the crowd like a man on holiday, wearing a sun-hat far too wide for his head, the red cloak replaced with a sleek linen shirt embroidered with storm clouds along the cuffs. He wasn’t alone — Anton trotted behind him, arms full of enchanted gourds, and Sohee (still in lantern-form) hung from his belt, flame flickering a smug gold. Wonbin hissed.
"Oh come now," Sungchan said lightly. "You’re going to burn a hole in the table if you keep glaring like that." He picked up one of the squid stone charms, made from bleached bone and polished shell, eyebrows rising when it began to sing, tentacles squiggling. "Interesting."
"Don’t touch the stock unless you’re buying."
Grinning, Sungchan placed a silver coin down, and tucked the stone into his sleeve. "I'll call it... Jingseok."
"No," Eunseok said firmly.
Sungchan laughed. "What do you mean no? It's mine. I can name it whatever I want."
A crowd had begun to gather, not just around the stall, but around them, whispers fluttering like laundry on a windy line. Did you see the other witch? That’s the one from the fancy shop. Oh, but this is the one who stopped the tide when the ferry nearly sank. Sungchan’s presence was magnetic, there was no denying it, but Eunseok saw a few eyes drift back to his sea-glass pendants, to the moon-thistle honey warming gently in its copper pot.
Sungchan must have noticed too, because his smile softened. "You’re doing well," he said, voice lower now. “I was worried, honestly. Thought maybe you’d be too proud to show up."
Eunseok didn’t rise to the bait. "Witches show up. That’s what we do."
Sungchan nodded, gazing out over the square, where the stalls glimmered with autumn lanterns. "They like you," he said. "The town, I mean. I thought they’d be too used to me by now to notice someone new. But here you are."
"Here I am," Eunseok echoed warily.
Sungchan turned back to him, one eyebrow raised. "Let's have dinner."
Eunseok blinked. "No."
"Why not?"
"I'm busy. And I don't date."
"Who said it was a date?" Sungchan asked slyly. "All I'm asking for is a meal. Two witches, in the same town, talking. Sharing notes. Maybe wine. My house at eight."
Eunseok opened his mouth to say no again — firmly, this time — but then someone jostled him from behind, reaching past to buy a bundle of sea-salt thread, and Sungchan had already turned, waving cheerfully as he disappeared into the crowd with his enchanted gourds and rude lantern.
"Outrageous," Wonbin muttered, fur bristling. "As if you would ever."
Back at the crooked shop, Eunseok unbuckled his boots, fed Wonbin a saucer of milk steeped with chamomile (for attitude), and sat cross-legged in front of the small hearth, the scent of sweetgrass clinging to his clothes. The charm above the door hummed softly in the gathering dusk — Sungchan’s gift, still not misbehaving.
"You're not seriously going, are you?" Wonbin asked, curling into the armchair with the confidence of a cat who had claimed the world.
Eunseok picked at a stray thread on his cuff. "It’s not a date." He got up and went upstairs, changing into his second-best robe, the one with a stitched wave pattern along the hem, dyed dusky blue. It wasn't for Sungchan's benefit, he told himself. This was a business meeting.
Wonbin was waiting for him at the base of the stairs when he was done. "Are you going to do anything to your hair?"
"I thought you didn't approve."
"I don’t," Wonbin said imperiously, "but you should at least brush the seaweed out. It's bad enough your hair is grey."
Eunseok paused mid-step, turning to glare at Wonbin. "It’s silver." Still, he detoured to the mirror by the door, picking out a piece of dried kelp from behind his ear, smoothing his hair back as best he could. "It’s not a date," he muttered again, grabbing his broom.
Wonbin yawned theatrically. "Then why are you nervous?"
"I’m not."
"You are."
"Goodbye, Wonbin."
Sungchan’s house looked different at night, the turrets and wrought iron glowing with enchantments, warm golden light pouring through the tall arched windows. Eunseok hovered on his broom just long enough to consider going home, then landed on the balcony with a soft thud, where a chime rang out, not from a bell, but from the wrought-iron railing itself. He let himself in, finding himself in a library with bookshelves crammed with odd volumes, a chandelier made of blown glass orbs, and a fireplace burning with gentle blue flame.
"Hello?" he raised his voice, suddenly realising it might be considered rude to enter through the balcony.
Sungchan entered the room, wearing nothing but long underwear and an unbuttoned shirt, looking surprised. "You're early."
Blood rushed to Eunseok's face. "You’re underdressed."
Sungchan looked down at himself, then back up with an unapologetic grin. "So I am." He made no move to fix it.
Eunseok turned on his heel to go straight back out the balcony. "I’ll come back when you’re wearing pants."
"No, wait!" Sungchan said, laughing as he scrambled for the robe draped over the back of a reading chair. "Stay. I didn’t expect you’d actually show up. You seemed so determined to scowl at me forever."
"I am still scowling," Eunseok said, carefully not looking at any of Sungchan’s collarbones as the man quickly buttoned his shirt and pulled on the robe. "And I only came because you insisted it wasn’t a date."
"It’s not a date," Sungchan agreed amiably, walking barefoot across the inlaid floor. "But it is dinner. I have it all ready to go."
"Ready to go where?"
"You'll see." Sungchan gestured for Eunseok to follow, leading him down a spiraling staircase to the shop floor. A large picnic basket sat on the counter, a bottle of wine sticking out from the top.
"It's too cold to eat out," Eunseok protested, confused.
Sungchan grabbed the basket with ease and winked. "Not where we're going." He went to the front door, using his forefinger to move the dial on the small colour wheel hanging above it, from blue to pink.
The moment the dial clicked into place, the shop shivered. That was the only word Eunseok had for it, the low hum in the walls, the shift in the air pressure, like the whole building was taking a breath. Then the door creaked open of its own accord, revealing not the cobbled streets of Ingeol but…
"…Is that a garden?" Eunseok asked cautiously, stepping closer.
It was a garden, but not one that belonged anywhere near the docks or the town. It looked like mid-day at the height of summer, the sky above a bright, unblemished blue, the kind of shade you only saw in the hours after a storm. The air smelled of honeysuckle and warm earth, and just beyond the threshold lay a lush green lawn dappled with sun. Willow trees rustled in a gentle wind, and a stream trickled through a small orchard bursting with ripe plums.
Eunseok stared. "You brought me to another country for dinner?"
Sungchan grinned. "A pocket realm, actually. I made it during my third apprenticeship — not bad, right? It’s keyed to the shop, so I only open it when I really need to unwind," Sungchan added, stepping barefoot onto the grass. "Also, the humidity in Ingeol plays havoc with my soufflés."
"You made a soufflé?"
"No. I made lamb stew." Sungchan paused. "Soufflé is a second-date kind of dish."
Eunseok’s lips twitched, and he hated it. "This isn’t a date."
"Exactly," Sungchan said cheerfully, already spreading a blanket under the shade of a tree. "So you won’t judge my picnic etiquette too harshly."
Eunseok hesitated at the edge of the doorway, the air in the pocket realm tugging at his sleeves, soft and persistent. Almost seductive. He couldn't say what he was so worried about. If Sungchan wanted to harm him, there were far easier ways to do it. Maybe he was just too used to being alone. Wonbin was great company and a true friend, but there were things cats simply could not understand. The many undisclosed desires of the human heart.
The grass felt impossibly soft beneath his boots as he crossed the threshold, the tension in his shoulders lessening without permission. It was like the pocket realm recognised him and adjusted itself around him — warmer where he liked it warm, breezier where he preferred a breeze. Annoying.
Sungchan had already set out the food: a steaming pot of stew balanced on a folded napkin, slices of dense black bread stacked beside a tiny jar of salted butter, a jar of pickled turnips, and a small wooden box that Eunseok suspected contained something sweet. There was also wine, of course, and two glasses, one already half-filled.
"Sit," Sungchan said, patting the blanket in mock invitation.
Eunseok sat, legs crossed, robe billowing slightly around him like low tide, accepting a glass.
Sungchan poured his own wine and leaned back on one hand, his other absentmindedly twirling the stem of his glass. "I know you don’t trust me," he said after a moment. "But I'm not interested in a turf war. I left the capital because I was tired. Too many clients, too many expectations. The court witches were always scheming. I wanted to work with my hands again."
"Like making gardens in your spare room?" Eunseok asked, tasting the stew. It was rich and fragrant, spiced with something slightly unfamiliar but comforting.
"Spare room? Yes, you could call it that," Sungchan mused. "I mostly use it to practice new spells."
"What are the other rooms for then?"
"Oh, they're not rooms, actually. They're doors to other places. Real places. Travelling is such a hassle, and I don't always feel like moving my shop."
Eunseok smiled despite himself. "I only take what my broom can carry."
Sungchan tipped his head, that ever-present glint of amusement in his eyes. "A broom. Very classical. Romantic, even."
"It’s practical." Eunseok dipped another piece of bread into the stew. "Where I'm from, all witches have brooms."
Sungchan hummed in a way that suggested he agreed but also intended to keep teasing. "Practical can be romantic. So can stubbornness. Stoicism. The occasional well-timed scowl. I find myself very easily swayed by such things."
Eunseok narrowed his eyes over the rim of his wineglass. "Is this a flirtation?"
"I'm just sharing things about myself," Sungchan said innocently, pouring them both more wine. "Tell me more about yourself. Where are you from?"
A breeze shifted through the pocket realm, stirring the willow leaves into a soft rustle. The sky above remained impossibly blue, but the light had shifted subtly, warmer, slanting, like the tail-end of afternoon. Eunseok wasn’t sure whether it was natural time or Sungchan’s own doing, but he suspected the latter. This realm, like everything else about Sungchan, was carefully curated to feel effortless.
"Just a small town in the countryside," Eunseok answered, setting down his empty bowl. "The least interesting place in the world."
"Can't be since it birthed you," Sungchan said, uncorking the small wooden box and revealing candied ginger and slices of honeyed persimmon. He passed it over without ceremony. "What's your family like?"
Eunseok picked at a piece of ginger, not looking at him. "Ordinary. Very unmagical. They thought the wind tricks were accidents, and when I started speaking to crows they decided I needed fresh air, not instruction. So I ran. A hedgewitch took me in when I got sick crossing the marshes north of Yeonhwa. She taught me everything I know." Why was he sharing so much? He hadn't told this much to Shotaro, whom he trusted far more than he did Sungchan.
Sungchan’s expression shifted, open admiration replacing the teasing smile. "That's incredible. I had four teachers. And two apprenticeships. Not counting this realm, I have six certifications. But I still can't do some of the things you can. I make magic that reshapes the world, you work with it."
Eunseok didn’t quite know how to respond to that. He’d always thought of his work as small. Personal. Necessary, but not impressive. Reaching for the candies again, he turned his face towards the willow trees, letting the wind brush his burning cheeks.
When the food was finished, and the second glass of wine had turned into a third, Sungchan pulled a plum from a low-hanging branch and tossed it lightly to Eunseok. "So. No dating. Ever? Or just not with me?"
Eunseok caught the fruit but didn’t bite into it. A story had resurfaced in his head, one he'd heard long ago, about a girl who had entered the underworld and satiated her hunger with pomegranate seeds, binding her to return, again and again, for all her days. He rose to his feet, brushing off his robe. "I have to go."
Sungchan stood too, instantly, though not in protest. His expression didn’t fall the way Eunseok expected, he just folded his arms lightly, tilting his head. "Of course. I didn’t mean to keep you too long."
"You didn’t." Eunseok turned towards the threshold where the shop door still shimmered faintly between the trees. "But I don’t like staying where I can’t feel the edge of things." Or maybe he was just drunk, the grass sticking to his feet as he stepped away from the soft, golden world Sungchan had crafted. He needed the ache of the ocean wind and the uneven slant of his floorboards.
"Let me help."
Sungchan took his arm, and it was only now that Eunseok became aware of how tall the witch truly was — tall enough that Eunseok had to tilt his head slightly to meet his gaze, though he refused to. His hand was warm and his grip light but steady as he guided Eunseok gently towards the threshold, the squid charm jangling softly in his sleeve as their feet rose above the grass, walking on air. "You don’t have to be alone all the time, you know. There are other ways to hold your own ground."
Eunseok looked at him sharply. "This is a date."
"I hope so."
He was terribly handsome, Sungchan, with his big girl eyes and boyish grin. Not something Eunseok usually cared about, but quite devastating up this close regardless, enough to render someone a little defenseless when pulled into a kiss. Sungchan leaned in slowly, giving Eunseok plenty of time to pull away, but he didn't or couldn't, so when their mouths met, it was deliberate.
Eunseok felt the brush of Sungchan’s hand, gentle against his jaw, the steadying weight of a thumb beneath his chin. The kiss tasted faintly of plum wine and pickled ginger, sharp and sweet, and it took far too long for Eunseok to pull away.
"That was a mistake," he said, flustered and angry at himself.
Sungchan looked completely unbothered. "Most good magic starts that way."
Eunseok stared at him, searching for the catch, the hidden barbs behind the charm. But there weren’t any. At least, none he could see. "I should go," he said again, softer this time.
"Okay," Sungchan nodded, pushing him gently through the threshold like a baby bird that had fallen out of its nest.
Wonbin was waiting for him on the windowsill when he returned to his little shop by the sea, tail twitching like a metronome.
"You’re late."
"I wasn’t aware I had a curfew," Eunseok said dryly, hopping down from the broom and brushing windblown hair from his face.
Wonbin leapt gracefully onto the counter, tail swishing. "So? Was it horrible?"
"No."
"Did he kiss you?"
"Wonbin."
"What? Don't be prudish. These are important questions."
Eunseok walked past him to the cupboard, pulled out a mug, and filled it with water. "I didn’t eat any pomegranate seeds," he said, half to himself.
"Hmm?"
"Never mind." He sat, water in hand, and looked out the salt-fogged window, where the sea glinted faintly in the moonlight. The charm Sungchan had given him still hung above the door, and tonight, it hummed quietly, as if purring.