Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

Jihoon was born on the 3rd of March on the edge of a long winter in the year 2001.

He’s the youngest in his family, who stands at one of the top branches in the clan’s old and sturdy family tree. Though his family holds a high status amongst the many branches within the clan, the celebration for his birth consisted only of his parents, grandparents, and older brother, who welcomed him with wishes and good health for the indefinite future.

His parents being an alpha-omega pair steered away anyone else who wished to get close to their newborn pup.

Because of his parents’ firm stance on keeping their children away from the imposing presence of other clan members, his family decidedly raise him in their ancestral home━a home built upon an old shack from centuries past and preserved for the family to pass down to their children and children’s children.

It’s located in the far off countryside in the west of South Korea, where golden fields of wheat and red tomatoes, and all the like, grow in abundance over the long year. They teach him to walk amongst winding dirt paths, to rest under old oak trees, and to appreciate the breeze that grazes his cheeks.

Jeong Jihoon grows to be well-versed in farming and well-loved in his household.

This is kept constant until he’s 12, when his attention from sorting berries was torn away because of a deafening cheer that echoed noisily from the TV. He’d go on to run inside, dirt caking his trousers and boots thrown off, to grab the remote with annoyance written on his face.

“Why’d hyung leave the TV open again,” Jihoon grumbles, irritated. “I keep on telling him to turn it off when he goes to check on the horses with appa.”

“Faker! Lee Sanghyeok-ssi!”

The TV blares as the stage displayed becomes illuminated by streams of lights that point towards the center, and there as Jihoon stared at the screen, stood an older man awkwardly holding a mic in hand beside an interviewer. Their face is obscured by glasses, black frames that angle the light into his face in a way that catches Jihoon.

He’s mesmerized━his attention is taken by how the man tilts his head, their eyelashes fluttering down to his cheeks as he bows for the post-match interview.

“Sanghyeok. Lee Sanghyeok.”

Jihoon finds himself testing the name on his tongue, the way it rolls off in a way that simply comes to him. It must be a natural pull, a new fascination that’ll take him like the many pop stars and celebrities that shine for a brief enjoyable moment; a new hobby to dabble into or a person to idolize and fool himself into thinking that he could be the same as well.

But Jihoon soon realizes that the man that goes by Lee Sanghyeok is only 17, he’s from Seoul, and he’s achieved dreams that Jihoon thought can only be done by grown-ups.

“Can you tell us how you felt about the game today?”

“I’m aware of the mistakes I made in that match, but I think my skill made up for what I lacked. I’m extremely pleased that I got Player of the Match this time around. So I’ll make sure to continue doing better in the upcoming matches, and I hope everyone looks forward to that.”

Jihoon watches how Faker stands, and though awkward in all the angles that point towards him, he speaks as if the light that lit his face belonged to him. There’s a sort of aura that draws people in━that calls for the cheers that erupt when Faker poses for a thumbs up.

He’s sunk into the couch even as the interview ends, as Faker hurries off the stage for the next team to walk on. His body has absorbed into the cushions as another match ensues━Jihoon doesn’t have the will in him to look away from the spectacle that excitedly presents itself in what they call 1v1’s, scuffles, and objectives being taken across the map they dub as the rift.

He feels his heart pounding as a dragon is slain, as a “baron” is taken, and as the nexus explodes in loud red colors.

It’s strange━what is this feeling stirring within him?

It’s different from the feelings he’s felt in this tiny life of his, but it isn't scary; it’s strangely invigorating, a strange rush of energy that pulses through his body when he sees how committed the players are to the game they’re playing.

When his family gets back from the fields, his head perking up slightly at his parents’ scents flowing into the living room, he’s grinding his elbow into a cushion out of frustration. Jihoon finds himself yelling out terms he’s only learned within the 2 hours of being left to his task—which was to sort the bad blueberries from the good ones.

“Jihoon-ah, you left your work at the table outside!” His dad calls with a concerned tone.

And right after, his mother’s voice chimes in, her familiar raspberry scent fluttering in from the kitchen, “We won’t have those pancakes of yours tomorrow if you don’t sort those in time, you know?”

His mother’s words strike a chord of panic in his chest, and so Jihoon scrambles off, throws the TV remote onto the coffee table and gets back to work.

Did Jihoon drastically change after his encounter with the game called League of Legends? 

Maybe.

And did Jihoon somehow, somewhat, and maybe somewhere in his psyche, feel something whenever his thoughts drift back to the player named Faker? 

Absolutely.

Jihoon takes a key, locks his thoughts up for him to rationalize on another day.

The vault in his mind barely lasts a month, because the key that he so carefully crafted, thought of in the dead of night, is crushed to smithereens when his parents bring in a PC. It’s carefully wheeled in on a trolley from one of the barns and into one of their spare rooms at the back; Jihoon recalls a scene from just a week before when his parents had hurriedly cleaned it out for work purposes they said.

Is it really for work? Jihoon doubts it, because it looks nice, the latest model from those windows he’s seen in the nearby shopping mall, and he’s sure it can definitely run that game.

As his parents are unpacking it, assembling it, and testing it on diagnostic programs that Jihoon’s been reading up on, he approaches and asks, quite loudly mind you.

“Can I play on the PC?”

Both parents turn to look at him, clearly startled—his mother a quirk to her brow and his father blinking in disbelief at his sudden presence, their scents spiking in the room. It’s not like he appeared out of thin air or anything magical, they must’ve already sensed him at the door; his parents were after all, the top of the top within the clan.

“Ah,” His mother pressed a hand to her mouth before nudging his dad and whisper-yelling. “You tell him!”

“But we haven’t even set-up the router and everything else yet—”

“Aish! We can do that after he checks it over!”

“But—”

His mother raises a taller brow at his father, who immediately deflates and turns his entire body to Jihoon. His hands are a bit red, from arranging the messy wiring below, as he then grandly and awkwardly gestures towards the barely set-up display.

“Well, Jihoon-ah, we saw that you’ve been watching and reading a lot lately,”

“Oh, you saw me?” Jihoon scratches the back of his neck from the embarrassment that flushes his face red. “I’m sorry if it looks like I’ve been slacking off and not helping around, and also my studies… I swear I’ve been reading and practicing those too!”

His mother’s expression deflates. “Oh baby no, don’t be embarrassed,” she goes forward to kneel by him, cradling his hands with a gentle expression. His parents’ scents become a soothing balm to his emotions. “Your father and I are just really really happy that you found something else to put your attention on.”

“Going through all those heir studies the clan gives isn’t bad bud,” His father adds with a similar expression as his mother. “It’s just well,” he cautiously looks around before crawling closer to him and his mother. “Your youth isn’t supposed to be spent on those types of things.”

“What do you mean by that?” Jihoon mumbles, a pout forming on his lips.

“Jihoon-ah,” his mother’s fingers brush the fringe over his eyes. “There are better things to do in life, and while your father and I are happy that you love the farm—”

“Course I do!” Jihoon cuts off his mother strongly. “The elders and other families don’t help in taking care of the fields, it’s the only thing we have left from the old stories you told me! And I hear them make fun of you and dad for committing so much…”

A touched smile graces his mother’s features as she continues. “And that’s precisely why we got you this PC too,” she taps a finger on the wooden desk before wagging at the air. “You love the farm so much, but you can love other things too. Your life shouldn’t only be within the fields or those studies the clan requires you to have.”

“Yeah bud,” his father heaves, a reassuring smile forming on his lips. “Your mother and I may have been pushed together by the elders—”

“—oh I remember that too well. Jihoon-ah, you should always make sure to have a good first impression on the people you’ll meet in life.”

“And we somehow managed to be blessed with you and your older brother. And while it’s unfortunate that both clans are still in opposition despite your mother and I’s marriage—”

“—I’m still debating if we should force their hand. Just make sure to call us if you don’t like what you’re learning in those classes, or whatever is the trend with teasing or bullying these days.”

His father barks out a hearty laugh, wiping a tear from the corner of his eye. “I think it’s quite clear that your mother and I feel very strongly about this,” Jihoon’s nod prompts his parents to continue, “We just simply want you to live the way you want to.”

“Especially without having to worry about those nonsense duties.” His mother nods vigorously.

“Honey, we can’t talk about the clan’s affairs like that.” His father says exasperated.

His mother then shrugs, a relaxed posture in the way she’s knelt down next to him as she continues talking without a care in the world, “Aish, if they say something about us this late into life, then they should’ve picked a different person to marry you. Anyway, Jihoon-ah,” she squeezes his hands a bit tighter. “Don’t worry about the nonsensical elders and higher-branching families, please enjoy your childhood and live doing what you want to do.”

He’s momentarily caught off-guard at the words his mother freely says; there’s a tight feeling that encases his heart as his ears ring. There’s only a smile on both of his parents’ faces as they ruffle his hair, kisses lovingly pressed to the crown of his head, before they casually go back to assembling his PC.

He’s overwhelmed with emotions—what does he say? Jihoon’s fists are crumpling on the edges of his shirt as he watches how his parents figure out the knicks and knacks of what could be. He’s so touched, he’s never been this touched in his entire little life until now.

Jihoon breathes shakily, tears blinking into his vision.

“Thank you, appa, eomma.” He says as sincerely as he can muster.

As the sun’s rays filtered into the room, a soft breeze flying in from an open window, his parents only smiled at him, their eyes kind and faces full of understanding that’s incomprehensible for someone his age.

Jihoon wants to understand—hopes to understand—how the universe has blessed him with such a family.

♡

In the dead of night, as Jihoon’s fingers tap tap tap tap tap tap on the keyboard and as his mouse click click clicks, the sounds echoing in the now storage turned gaming room—there’s a sort of satisfaction that washes over him as the word, 승리, appears to burn his eyes. 

He’s been playing for a while.

Jihoon doesn’t know when he started, he just did, and somehow he finds himself thigh deep into the intricacy of mechanics, champions, and skillshots. His hands are cramping a bit from the strain he’s kept up with, and he finds himself flexing and massaging his wrist from how intense his gaming has become in such a short timespan.

His parents have always been considerate to whatever he and his brother wanted. They rewarded them based on the work they’d do on the farm—a fulfilling warmth that captures Jihoon when he sees how proud and happy his family is with the completion of the week’s tasks. 

The rewards his parents give are usually the latest handheld consoles and toys that would be snuggly deposited into his toy box. He protects and cherishes all of it with his life, quite frankly, yet Jihoon personally thinks that what he’s doing right now is different.

It was different in the way he finds himself fixing his posture, his hyperawareness going tenfold the moment his champion has loaded into the rift, and especially so when Jihoon finds himself fighting people who’re (unfortunately) more skilled than him. 

It’s a bit frustrating, because he doesn’t like losing, but if losing is what it takes for him to know everything, then so be it.

Jihoon muses that the children from the clan’s tiny school may be right on one thing about him—he can get a bit too into something.

When another 승리 appears, his eyes tearing up from the amount of time he’s spent glaring and digesting everything he’s greedily gathered to witness and analyze for his own skill to learn, Jihoon is quick to exit the game and open the search engine. He’s swift in locating Youtube, then going on to type his newfound something of importance.

Faker.

An enigma of a player that’s captured Jihoon.

The way the teenager played was so mesmerizing—it reminded Jihoon of the sword dances that littered around a decorated courtyard during the sun clans’ yearly family gathering. Jihoon can see when Faker was poised, a mirage of a sword held in his delicate hand paired with a calculating glint in his eye awaiting his enemy’s next move.

A clash would fly by in his imagination; a pretty color of prismarine light that strikes a chord in him.

It’s so mesmerizing—Jihoon is sort of ashamed, his only audience being his conscience, for hoping to understand another person beside his family.

Maybe it was a sign from the universe, Jihoon likes to believe it is. Because not even a year after getting into the logistics of League and pouring time into honing his skills, after bearing witness to the way Faker existed in the same timeline as him, Jihoon would bring up his new aspiration during dinner.

He’d stab a piece of meat, wrap it into a lettuce leaf, and stuff the wrapping into his mouth for a boost of courage.

“Appa, eomma,”

His parents’ eyes flicker to look at him with curiosity.

“Yes, Jihoon-ah?” His mother responds, her hands freezing in making another wrap for herself.

He takes a deep breath, feels his heart stutter, and gives a crooked smile.

“I want to become a professional eSports player.”

♡

Jihoon is 15 when his hopes to understand the family he’s blessed with are crushed under the heel of an order issued by the sun clan’s elders.

His family and he are going over the requirements Jihoon needs to qualify for tournaments that are open to minors like him when it arrives at their doorstep. He’s only grown taller, lankier, over the years that’s passed since that fateful week, and he awkwardly stalks to the door, a raised brow on his face as a letter is presented for everyone to see.

Its appearance shocks everyone into silence—its golden embroidery only significant from the clan’s elders is given to them by a confused local delivery man.

Jihoon knows what it is.

In the history classes he’s attended over the past few years, Jihoon is acutely aware that the family he was born into has status within the country. He’s as privileged as these types of families come, with gold spoons being generously given to each branch that came from the sturdy tree of culture and tradition formed many centuries ago.

Though unlike other children his age, his position in the clan is one formed under a truce.

His parents are living proof of it—the sun and moon clan’s regularly scheduled meetings often steer in the direction of those types of arranged marriages. And while those discussions are frequent, Jihoon doesn’t understand the point of it, the point of all the boring meetings, ceremonies, classes, and sharp gazes the elders would pin upon him; it prickles his skin, like a sunburn that’s about to form on the skinniness of his back.

Or maybe the sunburn was already there, he just wasn’t made aware of it until now.

Only until his fingers traced over the luxurious design of the letter, its featherlight weight becoming world-ending the longer he stared at it—did he realize the sunburn that’s stuck onto him.

Even though he doesn’t get much of the formalities that come with being in the clan, his parents making sure their promise for him to have a good childhood persisted, Jihoon is sure and true to himself when he admits that he doesn’t like the material that’s sitting in his hands. He sucks in his shock and gives thanks to the delivery man, quickly shutting the door and going back to quietly settle onto the couch beside his mother.

After a long beat of silence from everyone, his father is the one that takes it from his hands.

It’s a swift flick from his father’s finger that traces on its edge, small sparks of fire igniting and burning the letter just right for the documents to plop out. Before he can reach to read its contents, his mother hastily grabs it first to scan through. Her eyes go through a myriad of emotions before a heavy exhale escapes her mouth; Jihoon has never seen such a still expression on his mother before.

“They picked you.” She simply states with a pinched expression.

His mother is distressed, the usually sweet scent of raspberries going sour ever so slightly. A bubble of fear forms in his chest as Jihoon speaks worriedly. “What did they pick me for?”

His parents share a look with one another, before he feels his father’s heavy hand clamp on his shoulder.

“You’ve become one of the… main candidates for an arranged marriage with the moon clan.”

“Ye?” Jihoon feels his body give a loud crack as he stands abruptly. “But I’m only fifteen?!”

“It must be for when you’ll come of age,” his mother sighs into her hands. “But of all people, they picked you? Dear, I thought children of couples like us don’t get picked?”

“It must be a mistake? But ah,” his father’s eyes glide over a clause in the paragraph. “They’re already expecting your presence by tomorrow.”

Jihoon shakes an angry fist. “Tomorrow?! But we already had plans to file for my participation?! I can’t believe this…”

The silence that came along with a warm hug from his family brings a few tears to his eyes.

Soon after the lights have dimmed in their home, and as the letter is tucked away under a pile of unpaid bills, Jihoon creeps his way outside and into the starlit night. He’s only got a flashlight to accompany him and a heavy heart hammering against his chest in fear for what’s about to happen to him; his ears are ringing and intently listening to the crickets sing.

He leans against a tree, wraps a blanket around himself, and counts the stars in the sky.

He barely gets through a constellation, finger knowingly zooming to each star and each crevice that the sky holds above the sun, until he’s struck by the strongest urge to queue—and that’s exactly what he does.

Jihoon vents his frustration out on the rift.

♡

The elders are a cluster of the oldest sunfolk that Jihoon has only chanced seeing in the long yearly parties that last until the end of a week in the summer season. As a child, the gathering was a spectacle that never failed to entertain him; his little legs ran through the families to chase after orange and yellow sparks emitted by the ones in charge of the magic in those sun-filled days.

Instead of attending another yearly gathering, Jihoon is whisked through to the city by his father driving like a maniac and the rest of his family praying he doesn’t end up a young city groom in the middle of South Korea.

When they arrive at the main estate, Jihoon is separated from his family by silent attendants. Who then guides him through eight wooden gates, their pace steady and efficient, until he’s made to sit in front of an ornate round table. There’s varying expressions that light up at his arrival, greetings spilling his way in established familiarity.

He’s a child from one of the more successful sunfolk and moonfolk unions—a huge success in comparison to the latest decade. A teacup is then placed on the table in front of him, an earl gray mix, as the council then go on to carefully advise him to prepare for the meeting with the moon clan’s chosen candidates.

There’s multiple questions that’re running through his head.

“Forgive me for questioning your intentions, elders,” Jihoon starts, “But why me?”

It doesn’t startle the room as much as he expected it would, and rather, they’re all looking at him with a knowing glint in their eyes. It was as if he’s been assessed for just the briefest of moments until an elderly man clears his throat for everyone’s attention—Jihoon immediately recognizes the man as the head elder.

The head elder looks at him kindly, his body crouched and hands folded behind his back as he explains carefully, “You’ve been achieving great things in your classes, Jeong Jihoon. I think you’ll do well to give a good impression that’s befitting for the occasion.”

“But I was just doing well to make my parents happy,” Jihoon hesitantly looks to the side, swallowing the forming lump in his throat, “I’m only fifteen, I can’t get into marriage, that’s for the older kids to tackle,”

The head elder blinks at him, then presses a hand to his chin. “Hm. How do I start this,” his eyes lighting up as he finds the words he’s searching for. “You see lad, the difficult thing with these arranged marriages is that most of the candidates, one's sure of, become… unreliable.”

“Unreliable?” Jihoon parrots.

The elder waves his hand, delicate sparks leaving his hand as he gently gestures to the historical paintings that decorated their surroundings. Though the estate has grown and aged, the long tapestries splattered with images of a kingdom once golden and will forever be, remain unchanging and eternally vibrant.

It makes Jihoon’s heart twinge whenever he takes a good look at them.

“The reason why there are arranged marriages in the first place is to maintain a sense of peace between the two clans, a sort of truce that’ll calm the masses,” the elder then sighs heavily. “But the candidates in these recent years have been…”

“Questionable.” An elderly woman adds by the side.

“Exactly that.” He nods solemnly. “And because of how questionable the candidates have become, it’s just a matter of time before the moon clan takes an offense to it,”

“Is there a reason why you can’t cancel it and explain yourselves then?” Jihoon presses on boldly.

“We're merely curious about something,” The head elder hums, stroking his chin. “About a possibility.”

Jihoon finds himself scoffing, a few of them gasp as his attitude shows itself, a frown pulls on the sides of his mouth as he goes on to reply. “And you decided to pick me for a possibility? That sounds questionable on your part too.”

There’s a strangling thought that twists in the back of his mind—if only Jihoon were older, if only he had already presented, then he’d have pheromones that’d combat the scent-neutralizing incense that overtook everyone within the estate. He’d give them his feelings plainly on a large platter, so they can’t digest his turmoil and rather drown in the pressure that’s building up because of arranged marriages and tournaments he’ll never be able to attend.

He’s young—Jihoon laments the loss for not having a proper outburst.

They’ll only ever be able to smell his parents’ scents on him—raspberries and wheat—and spot the displeased expression forming on his face under the observant stares coming from the surrounding elders.

“Oho. You have your mother’s ferocity.” The head elder exclaims at Jihoon’s obvious frustration. “Then how about this lad?” He taps a loud finger onto the wooden table. “You survive the next three years of marriage interviews and periodically meet all the candidates the moon clan will send. Then with every meeting, you’ll give a report on your opinions on them.”

“That sounds a bit unfair for me, noh?”

The head elder chuckles, shaking his head, “Not quite. In return, you’ll be able to do whatever you want. What was it that’s being raved on these days…” he wags a knowing finger. “It’s that eSports gig you’re aiming for aren’t you?”

Jihoon’s breathing halts for a second, blood rushing in his ears as his dream is laid out for everyone to hear.

“Yes, that eSports gig.” Jihoon grits his teeth. “A dream that I want to achieve as much as I can like—” he pauses, finding himself becoming tight-lipped in fear of mentioning the person his mind hasn’t moved on from. “—the great players I’ve seen on television.”

“I see,” the head elder rubs his chin thoughtfully. “Great players hm… oh well, that dream of yours won’t be disrupted by us. In fact, we’ll even let you and your family take control of the fields around Seoul too, just to show how serious we are in establishing this arrangement.”

Jihoon had to pause his thinking for a moment—the fields around Seoul are owned by the higher branching families. A flash of concern crosses his face as he considers the implication behind their words; they’re going all in, quite literally; he has nothing to lose.

Jihoon hesitantly grabs the lukewarm tea below him and takes a long sip to calm his restlessness.

It doesn’t do much to fray the thoughts that are starting to plague his mind—would those families sit by and let his family be given the northern and eastern farms? Are the elders truly nonsensical just as his mother said they were? If Jihoon rejects this, then what else would the elders offer if not for this?

It resembles that specific game decision Jihoon agonizes over—it’s the split-second game-making decision most players do, trading Dragon Soul for Baron around 45 minutes into a high-intensity match.

Jihoon gulps down the earl grey. It’s become slightly bitter for being left alone for too long.

“High elder, you think too much of me.”

“Lad, you’re thinking too much of us as well.” He replies, amusement in his tone. “Just think of this arranged marriage as one of the only ways for us to see if the possibility would come true.”

Jihoon tilts his head. “You keep on talking about a possibility, but I have a feeling if I ask you, you and the other elders won’t say anything.”

“You’re right about that!” The high elder laughs, delighted at the bluntness Jihoon’s been hanging onto since he willed himself to speak. “These possibilities, the wishes, and even our dreams, will all be guided under the sun and stars. You shouldn’t worry too much about these eventualities.”

“Ah yes,” Jihoon’s eyebrows crease together. “Possibilities and eventualities are totally on the same page. I will try to understand you a bit more, high elder.”

“I too will try to understand you, on the matter of that eSport dream of yours that is.”

♡

Jihoon’s first marriage meeting is with a girl his age, who’s awkward and soft-spoken to a degree that makes Jihoon strain his ears whenever she talks. She goes by Bomi, and will probably be the first one he’s actually made great effort to talk to in the coming years.

Jihoon is honestly, quite annoyed, for being pushed into a nice lounge room. Especially right after settling the elder’s desire for possibility, his dreams, and the transfer of ownership that’ll definitely shock his parents somewhere else in the estate’s grounds.

He’s a bit sad that he won’t see their expressions.

“It’s nice meeting you…. Jihoon-ssi.”

“Yeah, it’s nice meeting you, Bomi-ssi.” Jihoon quickly searches for a conversation starter. “You’re from a family that’s like mine right?”

Her hands are politely positioned on her lap as she nods shyly. “Instead of fields, we handle seafood markets and fishing areas in the southern parts of the country.”

“I see. Uhm, is it fun?”

“Sort of.” Bomi nods to herself. “Ah. How about you, Jihoon-ssi? Do you like the farm? It must be tiring running around to check the fields all the time.”

Jihoon raises an eyebrow. “I don’t find it tiring. It’s quite nice actually. All the local ahjussi and ahjumma come to the farm to help, so the work isn’t so overwhelming. Do you not like the work?”

Bomi hesitates for a moment, before looking off to the side. “I don’t really go to to the docks often,”

“Hm.” Jihoon hums.

Bomi must’ve noticed his judgement, because she suddenly waves her arms, her face going red from embarrassment. She stutters out her next few words, “Oh well! Well…”

“It’s okay Bomi-ssi, you can take a few seconds to breathe if you need to.”

She doesn’t heed his words and soldiers on. “Well, Jihoon-ssi, I can fish too!”

“Uhuh.”

“And, well, I’ve been helping out with keeping track of the daily market stock, checking fish equipment, and uhm…”

“So you’re in a managerial position and you haven’t tried fishing in your seafood farms? Or whatever you call it. And then you proceed to look at me in shock when I said I did like my farm work?”

“It’s not everyday I see someone like you!”

“I see.”

“I didn’t mean it that way!” Bomi cries out indignantly, her arms waving in panic. “It’s just admirable that you take the time to do actual farming, than to be a manager! I, myself, find it hard to convince my parents of my desire to fish…”

“Your family won't let you try it out?” Jihoon leans forward, a growing concern in his chest as Bomi nods stiffly.

“Oh yes. They say I’m too frail or small to engage with heavy-lifting,” Bomi sighs sadly. She turns to the view in the window, pausing for a moment, before turning back to him. “But get this, our clan’s pup caretaker, our mother, is very supportive of my desire to go fishing with the workers.”

Jihoon perks up at the mention of a mother. He’s touched that Bomi seems to become energized at the mere mention of this person. “Your mother must be really understanding if she makes you smile like that.”

Bomi shakes her head. “No, no, not my mother, but the clan’s pup mother, and they’re a he, mind you.” A fond look goes into her eyes as she starts rambling. “He’s such a lovely person, could you imagine someone that can handle so many pups on their own? He can put three to sleep by just humming!”

Jihoon’s lips quirk up and he finds himself becoming intrigued. “But don’t pups only respond to their parents?”

“They do! But mother has always had a knack for comforting pups to sleep, so most pairs go to him for help. I’m one of those cases, and I’ve been stuck to him ever since,” Bomi admits happily.

“Don’t your parents get worried that you’re sticking too much beside a… man?”

Bomi blinks, taken aback by his words, before she furiously shakes her head.

“What! No! If anything, they have to be more worried that I might get adopted by him at this rate,” she then blinks slowly, a memory seeming to have taken over her mind. “He’s after all the first person who’s believed in me!”

Ah.

Jihoon spots it first before she realizes it—the tears that have magically appeared in the corners of her eyes. He pushes a tissue box towards her, feeling slightly sorry for his attitude towards her earlier; but Bomi doesn’t seem to mind nor care, she’s too busy hastily patting away her tears with tissue.

“Oh, I miss him already, I hope he’ll be proud of me for showing up today,”

“From the way you’ve been talking about him,” Jihoon purses his lips as Bomi continues to become overwhelmed with emotion. “I’m sure he’d be proud of you for showing up.”

“Right?” She wipes her tears quickly. There’s a wobble to her smile as she continues. “I honestly can’t believe that he’s taken care of me since I was little—Wah, I’m going to cry again—”

“Oh damn, here’s more tissue. It’s okay, just take more...”

Jihoon inwardly curses his luck, he’s not well-versed in comforting people, but he’ll try to comfort Bomi and listen to her talk about the moon clan’s pup mother. It’s an interesting topic, the moon clan’s pup mother seems to be a nice person along with Bomi, it’s just Jihoon doesn’t find himself looking at her any differently.

Perhaps he’ll be able to at least give his new acquaintance some needed confidence to advocate for her obvious desire to go fishing—anything after that is a no-go for him.

Jihoon is okay with the notion of being friends, at least.

♡

Jihoon is taken aback almost immediately—he’s going to eat his own fist for jinxing his luck.

It’s another girl, recently presented, who seems to hold a mean glint in her eye as she sits down where Bomi once was. They then sit in silence for about 5 minutes until she breaks the silence, clearly fed up with Jihoon’s determination to not be responsible for the conversation.

“You’re Jeong Jihoon?”

“What about it?” Jihoon inquiries back. “If I’m Jeong Jihoon, then you must be Park Mina-ssi?”

Her eyebrows raise before shrugging. “You actually read the document I submitted to your clan.”

“It is required, and no, I didn’t read it, I just,” Jihoon waves a hand. “Skimmed through it.”

Mina huffs, a curl to her lips as she shifts upright in her seat. She rests both of her arms on the table to bend downward. “The clan’s pup mother…” a sneer goes on her face as soon as she mentions the person. “I don’t like him.”

Jihoon is confused—when did the pup mother get into their conversation?

“What?”

“I said,” Mina frown deepens. “I don’t like him! Making me come here to represent the clan—ugh!” She throws her hands into the air in clear agitation. “I told him I wanted to do something else with my time! But why am I here talking to sunfolk?!”

Ouch. She didn’t need to mention his clan in that type of tone.

Jihoon’s nose crinkles, the familiar smell of burning wood creeping into his senses. He abruptly waves his arm, loudly calling for a time-out. It doesn’t deter Mina, the words she’s been meaning to say to the pup mother of all people, is rushing out in heavily-angered paragraphs.

Unpleasant, that’s the one word Jihoon has for this meeting.

“I understand that you’re feeling frustrated right now but—eugh,” Jihoon cringes as Mina’s scent strengthens. “Can you please wear a scent-blocker? Mina-ssi? Hello?”

She’s ranting her head off—Jihoon shoves a scent blocker into her breathing space.

♡

Jihoon is tuckered out two meetings in.

Weren’t people who presented have at least a semblance of awareness for the scent they’ve gained? Jihoon grieves the day it’ll come to him, because he genuinely likes his parents’ scents on him, they're comfy, makes him feel warm, and they serve as a ward for his troubles.

Jihoon’s face is impeccably deep in thought when the next person walks in.

The person that’s sitting across from him smells like the sea—were the moon clan’s people always deeply versed with salty waters and sealife? He can’t recall his history lessons accurately enough to have an answer for his wandering curiosity.

“Soyeon-ssi, right?”

“That’s me.” She lightly blows on the rim of her teacup. “Jihoon-ssi, yes?”

“Yeah,” he shifts his gaze to the bracelets on her wrists and nods towards it. “Nice accessories you got there.”

She shakes her wrist. “Oh you noticed? The other pups were very insistent about it—”

There it was again, pups, and if Jihoon could guess the next thing she’d say, “—that pup mother of yours must’ve put you up to this meeting thing too?”

“You know about the pup mother?” Soyeon blinks in surprise, leaning back on her chair to stare at him.

“Why would I not know about him,” Jihoon sighs in barely concealed frustration. He recounts the previous two encounters on his fingers. “Bomi was practically bawling her eyes out, but she at least looked happy talking about him. Then Mina was about to burn my nostrils out from how angry she was. Did all of you come from him? Is he an all-mother or something?”

“Oh God no! I’m so sorry for those two Jihoon-ssi.” Soyeon bows her head.

“No. Ugh. It’s okay, I haven’t been particularly easygoing in these meetings so I think it’s fair treatment.” Jihoon sighs heavily, rubbing his forehead.

“But still—”

“It’s fine.” Jihoon says firmly. “If anything I just became curious of this pup mother of yours, so if you could shed some light as to why they… responded like that. Then all’s fine for both sides.”

Soyeon, though looking conflicted, nods her head in agreement. “If you say so, Jihoon-ssi. But also,”

“Hm?”

“Aren’t we supposed to talk about things concerning ourselves?”

“Ah. Yeah. I don’t know if it’s come across to you already or if the other two told you but—”

“I understand.” Soyeon blinks slowly, realization having dawned on her quite quickly. “Then shall we talk as if we’ve become friends over,” she gestures to the teacup in her hands. “Lukewarm tea with the intent to trade both clans’ goods?”

“That’s fine with me.” Jihoon feels some sort of weight lift off his shoulders. “Thank you, Soyeon-ssi.”

“No problem, Jihoon-ssi.” If Jihoon squinted, he’d notice the relief settling into her face. And if he does notice it, he doesn’t say anything. “Now, where do we start…”

♡

The report he makes on the three isn’t much of a report. It isn’t formal, he didn’t make it formal, and it simply becomes a document where Jihoon finds himself ranting about his theory on some secret internal force taking control of the pups, especially the ones around his age. 

It’s a ridiculous thought that he entertained mid-conversation with Soyeon, who within the short time Jihoon has known her, seems to also be quite taken and raised by said pup mother.

There isn’t any emphasis on who or what he looks like—Soyeon merely transitioned the conversation into territory Jihoon doesn’t find himself hearing from anybody else. Because the best source of information, he strongly believes, will always come from the people who've experienced it themselves.

In this case, it was the pup mother who seems to have raised the next generation of the moon clans’ chaebols.

Jihoon doesn’t trouble himself over the details and stories told, he lists them down in his head, and tucks it away on his mental bookshelf consisting of all the knowledge he’s ever known. Which honestly only holds himself, the sun clan, his strategy to survive the arranged marriage crisis… and League of Legends.

Huh.

Jihoon only realizes how simple he actually is.

He gets to know a few more people after them, but his memory only has the ability to remember the first three that left a strong impression on him. And by strong impression, they were the only ones who’d leave a strong impression on him in the years that’ll roll by.

Romance and the like doesn’t bloom—Jihoon instead becomes friends with those specific three.

He learns that Bomi took the clan’s pup mother to test her skill in fishing, and she nearly knocked the poor man into the docking area when she reeled in a large fish. She happily showed her picture, brightness on full blast, and Jihoon had to make sure he squinted his eyes so he didn’t go blind.

Him and Mina are on amicable terms, she apologizes to him for her outburst (it was apparently due to her inability to take part in the engineering class the moon clan was conducting on that specific day) and they make a habit to talk about gadgets that are coming new to the scene.

And lastly there was Soyeon, he learns that she’s an older sister of a large family, around six siblings—he also (unfortunately) is made known to her younger brother.

“Minhyung. Lee Minhyung.” Soyeon then gestures to where Jihoon sat. “And this is Jihoon. Jeong Jihoon. I hope you two can get along.”

Minhyung barely does a once over, Jihoon has to stop himself from reacting violently, before loudly scoffing. Jihoon watches as he obnoxiously turns away, the table rattling from the force of it, and comments blandly.

“Noona I think the weather outside calls for a walk, then to stay—” Minhyung swivels to give a nasty side-eye then back as if he’d done nothing. “—in a room with this guy.”

“I have a name you know.” Jihoon scowls.

“And I’m half deaf in one ear and blind on my right.” Minhyung looks at Soyeon with a pleading expression. “Noona, can’t we go back to the pup mother and chill at his nest? Instead of, you know, being here.”

“Minhyung-ah, I brought you here so you could have one more friend in your arsenal.” Soyeon forcefully pinches her brother’s cheek. “Not to make him agitated and upset because of your words.”

“But that guy is the one they’re arranging the marriage for right?”

Minhyung raises an accusing finger towards him and Jihoon exclaims a loud yuck from his mouth. “No offense to your older sis, but you don’t have to worry about her getting married to me.”

Minhyung lowers his finger. “Really?”

Soyeon nods encouragingly to him. “Yeah. We agreed to just be friends at the very first meeting.”

“Oh.” Jihoon watches how Minhyung relaxes on his seat. “Okay. If you say so.”

Though the younger Lee brother did relax on his seat, Jihoon has to soon face the fact that being nearly the same age as someone means sharing the same interests and the same hobbies. And while that’s usually a lovely thing—to find someone that obsesses on nearly the same things he does—Jihoon is having none of it.

Because he gets to know how Lee Minhyung is—a year younger than he was, clearly doesn’t like how Jihoon’s thirst for knowledge has extended to the moon clan’s precious pup mother (is it his fault that he needs more information to support his conspiracy theory), and that he plays the very game Jihoon’s working his ass off for.

They’re nearly the same person, just on two opposing cliff sides. 

But on Minhyung’s side, there’s a catapult ready to hurl a boulder towards him.

He can only hope and pray that he won’t be subjected to Minhyung’s judgement anywhere in the near future.

♡

Jihoon gets to play in 2017, in a tournament dubbed as the Kespa Cup.

And even though the result would be a 0-2 against a team with a weird name (they lost to JAG, which is short for JinAirGreenWings, can you believe it!).

Jihoon finds himself smiling dumbly all the way home, his hands trembling and face alight with the desire to play more—to climb higher and to maybe, hopefully (he’s begging on his knees), face the people he’s been idolizing for ages.

He really really wants to face Faker.

♡

What Jihoon likes about working so hard is that it pays off somewhere down the arduous line of betting everything on a dream—and in his case, with his family’s golden spoon status, the looming threat of marriage crawling on his back, and Lee Minhyung not shutting the fuck up—Jihoon is determined to achieve at least a semblance of it before he explodes to any of the aforementioned three.

It’s in 2018 when his dream has formed in front of him.

He’s signed into a team named Griffin, GRF, and while he’s being juggled around with his team’s fellow mid laner, Jihoon is given multiple chances to thrive in the feeling of competition.

He loves it—he can’t get enough of it.

There has to be a study somewhere that talks about this, the feeling of competition and accomplishment he’s found himself chasing after alongside many others. He’s grasping it in his hands, a mouse and keyboard as his main weapons, and the monitor set as the battlefield before them; Jihoon is pleased when he thinks all the hours spent memorizing timers has finally paid off.

The match-up that slaps an asteroid into his cheek is with SKT T1.

Jihoon’s shaking, quivering in his worn sneakers, when he spots his idol just a few feet away.

“Dude, are you okay?” Siwoo swoops in from the side, a half-eaten banana clutched in hand. “You look like you’re about to piss yourself.”

“Am not.” Jihoon bites back weakly.

Dohyeon pats his shoulder. “Maybe you could test those new seats they got for the arena. I heard they’re really nice to sit on.”

Siwoo looks at Dohyeon incredulously. “And where’d you even hear people talking about chairs?”

“When I took a detour to the restroom.” Dohyeon replies easily.

That’s how Jihoon finds himself sitting on the newly installed chairs within the player’s waiting area. He’s rubbing both of his hands together, his legs bouncing in an incessant manner that’ll even make his parents have a faint of heart.

He’s too preoccupied with the monkeys in his brain to notice the shadow casting over his head.

“Do I know you from somewhere?”

Jihoon is completely startled by the voice that pulls him out of his internal panic. His breathing stops as he takes in the player looking at him with concerned eyes; black doe eyes blinking at him with concern, lips pursing as Jihoon stutters, the player’s hands awkwardly folded on both his sides.

Faker.

Yet even with all the panic that strikes through his body, the type that leaves him stunned at the deity that’s graced the area, Jihoon suddenly feels at ease by managing to stare back.

“No… Faker-ssi.” Jihoon replies with a gulp.

“Really? Is that so?” The older man tilts his head in obvious confusion. Jihoon finds it adorable━he needs to stop. “Maybe my memory is messing with me… what’s your name?”

“Chovy!” Jihoon springs upward, feels a crack shake his legs, and proceeds to give a deep bow.

“Oh what, not that name,” Faker laughs, his eyes crinkling at the edges. Jihoon tries not to stare too long, he swears. “I meant your name name, you know. The one your parents gave you.”

 “Ah…” Jihoon’s face bursts red at the embarrassment that gnaws at his innards. “Jeong Jihoon, it’s nice to meet you━”

“Lee Sanghyeok, but please call me hyung,” Faker━Sanghyeok━smiles at him with upturned eyes. “Do you mind if we talk before the start of the game or do you want to cool down by yourself?”

There’s a pull that urges Jihoon to say yes despite his brain screaming at him to say no, it’s okay, I can handle my nervousness by myself. Jihoon shyly raises his hand, suddenly feeling bold for the first time today, for Sanghyeok to take━he’d be lying if he said he wasn’t smiling right now.

“I’m okay with talking to you, Sanghyeok-hyung!” 

“Likewise, Jihoon-ah,” Sanghyeok smiles prettily.

Jihoon’s only noticed when he’s directly standing in front of him, but Sanghyeok has a lovely smile. It bunches his cheeks up, his eyes becoming smaller, and the smile he gives is enough to bring Jihoon to his knees.

If he was asked to, then he’d kneel━he’d win the kneeling competition amongst all the Faker fans of the LCK, the world, and hell even the universe.

Jihoon needs to shut up.

Their hands clasp into a handshake━Sanghyeok’s hand easily slotting and fitting against his━all slender and fair against his callouses from farming. He’s still embarrassed, but Jihoon tries to school his expression, as they continue on to share happy smiles with one another. 

Then for a moment, there’s a zap that surges between their fingers.

They both flinch, their surprised expressions mirroring one another’s━Sanghyeok is the one that breaks first, his mouth forming into a wide heart as he lets out an amused laugh. It’s a sight that shakes Jihoon’s core, so much so that he feels his own laughter bubble up, and he soon quickly finds himself laughing along.

Their laughter turns into talking━they’re sitting side by side one another as the arena nearby alights with cheers for the teams that are playing.

Jihoon comes to terms with the fact that the person beside him was a man named Lee Sanghyeok, who desperately wishes to go home as swiftly as possible after the game, to eat the new flavor a famous ice cream brand released a week before, and to get back on queue with the rest of the pros in Challenger.

“Do you have anything you want to do, Jihoon-ah?”

Jihoon rubs his hands again, the chill returning. “I want to do a lot of things, hyung.”

“Hm, I see,” Sanghyeok muses softly. “But why do you look like I asked a difficult question?”

“There’s a lot that I find difficult,” Jihoon admits. He smiles thinly at the things resting in the back of his mind. “But I think, I’m just worried that it’ll disturb the dream I’m having right now.”

“A dream,” Sanghyeok repeats, nodding in understanding. “Then I’ll believe with you, Jihoon-ah. So that your dream becomes reality, and so those difficulties of yours will disappear like smoke, sort of like how I got through my own demons a year ago.”

Jihoon is stunned by the kindness in Sanghyeok’s words━they’ve only just met, but why does the older man look at him so endearingly? It twists his heart, Jihoon doesn’t have the words to explain it, his throat drying at the person beside him.

He hopes that this conversation will never end.

He likes being beside Sanghyeok.

“Thank you,” Jihoon sniffles quietly. “Sanghyeok-hyung.”

“Ah, no, I should be the one thanking you, Jihoon-ah,” Sanghyeok’s eyes stare at him with only warmth. “Thank you for accompanying me today. Not many people can handle staying beside me for so long.”

Jihoon’s mouth moves as his thoughts wander. “That’s their loss and not yours,” he starts. “You’re a great person, hyung. I genuinely mean that.”

There’s an unreadable look that forms on Sanghyeok’s face—the warmth is still there, but it’s different—Jihoon recognizes it as one of the many stares the elders have observed him with. Though Sanghyeok is different, he can’t exactly pinpoint where, but he feels it.

He's not given the chance to explain himself—game time has come upon them.

When they separate to go to their respective teams, sharing smiles and promises to talk more in the future, Jihoon doesn’t know why his heart twists yet again as another zap goes through another handshake Sanghyeok offers.

It must be nothing.

♡

It’s the first time Jihoon’s seen so many people scattered around his family’s farm.

Barely a week after his meeting with Faker—who is now Lee Sanghyeok in his memories—a golden envelope requesting for Jihoon to urgently pick a bride is sent to their doorstep.

If Jihoon were to say no, all the fields surrounding Seoul would return to their previous owners, and his parents would have to settle with the fact that their son would be banned from marrying anyone. Of course, what happened first was mass panic in the household, and what happened next was their frantic preparation to receive all the guests from both clans.

Did he do anything to offend them? Other than the occasional banter he causes at the round table (it’s surprising that he’s become close with the damned elderly), he’s sure he didn’t point out anyone’s missing tooth or messily drawn eyebrow makeup.

He’s been nice, and being nice was enough, in Jihoon’s humble opinion.

On the day itself, Jihoon is dressed in an old suit of his paternal grandfather; it’s too baggy on his body and definitely smells like closet musk. Jihoon would be lying to himself if he said he was A-Okay with the last-minute decision of making him wear it; he already feels a rash forming on his lower back.

Minhyung discreetly arrives at his side with two glasses of lemonade on both hands. The younger teen is already raising a brow at Jihoon’s obvious discomfort.

“You look like you need to take a piss hyung.” Minhyung points out.

“No shit,” Jihoon mumbles. His fingers feel the frayed insides of his suit pockets as he surveys the area. “You’re telling me that I need to pick a bride out of all the candidates that've been introduced to me like right now? On such short notice too?”

Jihoon hears a loud snort come from Minhyung. He whips his head around to give a death stare as Minhyung casually takes a sip from his own glass.

“Maybe you did comment on their makeup. How do old people have the energy to put makeup on their face anyway?”

Jihoon slaps Minhyung’s shoulder, hissing. “Shut up! You’re supposed to be on my side!”

“Not today,” Minhyung says.

Jihoon’s shoulders slump at the unusual expression that’s appeared on Minhyung’s face. “Are you actually serious? You aren’t bullshitting me like usual?”

Minhyung shakes his head. “Nope. It’s just a matter of circumstance on who’s here, really.” He shifts his gaze to elsewhere for a brief moment, as if gauging his own words. Then with an extremely soft voice, he goes, “You didn’t hear it from me, but well, the pup mother you’ve been so curious about arrived too.”

Jihoon’s heart stutters for a moment—the conspiracy theory in his head becomes highlighted with bright colors.

“Really?” Jihoon gasps, a jolt of shock going through him.

“Yeah. I convinced him not to go and everything too,” Minhyung frowns. “But the air could be different today, he’s the type of person that’d go out just because he felt like it.”

“I see,” Jihoon nods along vigorously. “Can I meet him?”

“No!” Minhyung exclaims in horror. “Why’d I let you near him? In fact, why should I introduce you to him? Hyung, there’s no way I’m going to get you anywhere near him.”

With how adamant his unlikely friend is, Jihoon makes a face at the stare Minhyung is directing towards him. Jihoon pats his chest to emphasize his hurt, “And I thought we were friends already..”

“Oh we are,” Minhyung’s nose crinkles as he surveys the area yet again. “Just not when our pup mother is out and about in broad daylight that is,”

Jihoon places a placating hand on Minhyung’s shoulder. “Minhyung-ah, I can assure you that my family and I made sure the farm is safe for all the guests, even unexpected ones. Trust me, he’ll be fine.”

Minhyung looks at him dubiously, and tries to shift his attention to the venue’s design. There are sun and moon-esque decorations scattered and hung on fairy lights, a mixture of gold and silver to compliment the joyous occasion. Little stars are scattered on tables and chairs, which all lead up to the trees and down to the buffet table, where a mixed crowd of both clans is busy helping themselves to. 

It looked to be one big family gathering instead of Jihoon’s crisis—the picking a bride problem, hello?

Minhyung’s grip on the glass lessens and he huffs. “Okay, I have to give it to you and your family, hyung. You have a way with using the motif of both clans,”

“It’s thanks to my mother’s moonfolk blood that we got it right,” Jihoon gestures his glass to floating streamers of clear prismarine and blues floating around on magical strings. “Though honestly, if I were her, I would’ve settled on making a fountain,”

“And make your mother’s magic go to waste? You really have no shame huh,”

Jihoon chokes on the lemonade, swiveling around to cough. “I didn’t mean it that way! I just find it a real shame that my mother does all of this to make the farm look pretty, and she decides on streamers of all things!”

Minhyung opens his mouth to speak, another remark already on the tip of his tongue, when the crackling of a mic intermission rings across the area. It’s from a small stage set beside his home, he spots most of the elders chattering atop their chairs, then in front was the head elder tapping the mic with a wondrous expression. He taps once more, twice, clearing his throat for an announcement to be made.

I want to thank everyone for gathering here despite your busy schedules. The crowd shares a chuckle as the head elder bows in humble greeting. Today, we once again find ourselves in the presence of an arranged marriage that’s been in the planning for two years now—specifically to be wedded to Jeong Jihoon, son of Jeong…

The sounds around Jihoon drown out as the head elder raises a proud hand towards where he was, Minhyung clearly startled by the sudden call-out, a spotlight soon shining on them from somewhere. There’s sweat building on his brow, Jihoon’s already finding reason to blame the spotlight and spontaneous announcement for making him perspire in his grandfather’s fraying suit.

He’s about to bark out a reply—anything to deter anyone’s advances to approach him—but it’s too late.

A gaggle of omegas from the moon clan has already found their way over to him. When Jihoon looks to ask Minhyung for help, the younger teen has already slinked away amidst the fawning women.

Jihoon is going to crush that old man in the next solitaire game they’ll have (it’s the coming Sunday).

He’s bombarded for nearly two hours, the sun once at its peak has now transformed into a glowing hue of sunset prickling the expanse of his bending back. Jihoon’s straining his ears to each person that’s approached him so far—he already feels the ache in his cheeks and jaw from giving smiles to all of them.

The time to pick is ticking near, he senses it in the way everyone observes him and the others he’s met over the years, but Jihoon doesn’t want to.

His mind goes back to recent stories from his made friends—of how Bomi’s recent escapade to fish in the great waters of the Caribbean had succeeded with her gaining rights to lead fishing expeditions, Mina’s breakthrough in creating one of the latest gaming models (he begged her if he could try it first, she expectedly said no), and Soyeon who’d recently happily admitted that she’s been seeing someone overseas.

He can’t pick—it’d be like marrying a sister and that’s weird, revolting, and downright unethical.

Jihoon only finds a chance to escape when one of the girls whisper-yells—something about another bachelor that’s gone into the premises.

Jihoon turns on the heels of his dress shoes and runs.

He’s off into the fields, ignoring the loud exclamations of his parents and Minhyung’s befuddled hollering, Jihoon’s figure quickly disappearing amongst the tall blades of golden wheat. He’s the one that knows his way best around the fields—they won’t catch up to him anytime soon.

Though Jihoon has to face it, he has to face the mere fact that he can’t stall his damned decision any longer.

But Jihoon can’t help but run—just once more—just once more into the setting sun, into the harvest that’s come to his family’s farm, under the growing shade of trees, and into the breeze that quickens on a nice summer’s day.

He’s gone far into the sun when he spots a burly man standing just shy away from the pathway.

“C’mon now, you can pick me and you won’t have to worry your pretty little thing—”

He’s talking to someone, clearly smaller, Jihoon can only spot a small flutter of white contrasting against the sun when a firm shove is given to deflect the man’s advances.

“I can take care of myself, thank you very much. So can you please move aside, I need to get back to the puppies of my clan before they start waking up.”

That voice is familiar, he’s heard that voice when he drowns himself in VOD reviews and player research.

“Hah?! Who said you could leave—”

The man lunges and Jihoon finds himself propelling forward to squeeze in between.

“Jihoon-ah?”

Jihoon traces his eyes to the wide-eyed person behind him—Sanghyeok, Lee Sanghyeok is attending the event Jihoon’s been trying to keep under wraps since forever. It’s shameful, he finds it shameful that Sanghyeok’s here of all places. The fact makes Jihoon’s ears burn slightly, his face soon darkening as he turns back to the burly alpha that’s nearly seething in front of them.

“Who’re you?” He barks.

Jihoon scoffs. “This person already chose me, so scram old man! Before I call the clansmen on you!”

“You’re just a pup,” he cackles. “One of those brats from the sunfolk am I right? What’s got you so hung up on this omega right here?”

Sanghyeok scoffs. “Are you sure you’re supposed to be saying that ahjussi?”

“Pretty little thing, if anything you should be coming with me—”

The man’s voice gets cut off—Jihoon notices how his scream goes mute—then as if an unmute button had been hastily pressed in succession, a strangled scream escapes along with a harsh jerk to his body. Jihoon can’t process what’s happening in front of him, the man toppling to the ground with a thud, obvious pain tormenting him as he curls in on himself and shakes violently.

Jihoon cringes—a guttural cry swiftly follows then deafening silence—the man has gone limp from shock.

He and Sanghyeok share a look, then, “Hyung, what the fuck?”

Sanghyeok brows furrow, lips pursing as he lightly tuts. “Language.”

“Hyung, you,” Jihoon sputters. He’s unable to function his arms correctly, flailing his hands to where the man’s body is. “You killed him!”

“You don’t know that for sure,” Sanghyeok replies simply. Jihoon spots how his lips curl in slight amusement. “I just nudged him a bit with a moon string or two.”

“Hyung.”

“Jihoon-ah.”

“I don’t even know what to say.” Jihoon throws his arms up in exasperation.

Sanghyeok laughs airily, a frown soon replaces his obviously pleased expression. “You don’t need to say anything,” Sanghyeok’s fingers are careful to pick dirt off the veil on his head. “He was about to lunge at you… I only did a little thing in the name of self-defense.”

Jihoon places both hands on his hips and heaves a sigh. “I wasn’t expecting that at all though,” when he sees how Sanghyeok turns to look to the side, guilt growing along his face, Jihoon decidedly takes a step back. “But well, uhm, that doesn’t mean I’m not thankful, so thank you.”

It’s scarily easy how Jihoon notices the miniscule ways in which Sanghyeok's face changes with his emotions.

The older man blinks, eyes focusing back on Jihoon—a hint of a smile breaks his guilt, relief settling smoothly into the crevices of his face.

“I was only doing what I could do,” Sanghyeok replies, all lovely and kind in the cool breeze. His eyes are back to crinkling at the edges, little stars decorating his honest gaze. “You’re a good person. I think the person you’ll be picking today will be a lucky partner.”

Jihoon’s a bit stunned—how can someone be so pretty and say devastating words all at the same time?

“You know that I’m the one getting hitched off?”

“I’ve heard of it here and there,” Sanghyeok explains. “I only realized it was you when Minhyung told me how it was a friend of his, and how said friend sounded somewhat like a Jeong Jihoon I’ve come to know last week. I pieced together things from there.”

“I see,” Jihoon breathes deeply. “I’m sorry that you had to take the time off to attend this, and well,” he discreetly points to the still body. “The security not being good enough to protect you from that bastard.”

In his mind, Jihoon’s bowing down in apology to Minhyung.

“It’s also an oversight on my part, he must’ve spotted me when I walked out of the area to get some air. It’s hard to not get noticed wearing all of this,” Sanghyeok mentions thoughtfully. He emphasizes his clothes with a wave of his white sleeve. “It’s not everyday I attend these gatherings. I try not to, you see.”

“It’s because of the league and everything, right? I understand that somehow, hyung,” Jihoon sympathizes immediately. “Even though I’m not starting often for my team…”

“Jihoon-ah,” Sanghyeok gently calls him and he stumbles out of his thoughts, eyes going back to stare into Sanghyeok’s own. “Even though you aren’t picked first, you’re doing really well,” Sanghyeok frowns, noticing the doubt on his face. “I’m sure you’ll reach greater heights in the future. That’s what I believe.”

Jihoon’s throat goes a bit dry. “How are you so sure?” He asks, his voice small. “I’ve barely started out… I don’t have the best record attached to me yet, well that’s what I think of myself. But that doesn’t mean I don’t want to trust your belief in me either! It’s just—”

Jihoon registers the way Sanghyeok’s gaze is steady and sure—he’s being looked into, through somewhere from a far off place he can’t quite picture, and finds himself going quiet.

Sanghyeok doesn’t say anything.

“You speak a lot for someone so young.” Sanghyeok points out. “It’s like the world was given to you with a condition. Why is that?”

“It’s because of this damned marriage,” Jihoon answers with a huff. There’s a fierce feeling of anger and pity that mixes in his gut. “I’m young!”

“You are indeed young.”

“And they expect me to get married so soon for a possibility!” Jihoon exclaims angrily.

“A possibility,” Sanghyeok hums. “I remember hearing that before,”

Jihoon halts his movement to pull his hair out, his fingers stop just an inch before his head as he takes in the words said in return. He blinks taken aback, then swallows his anger to face Sanghyeok again.

“You heard what?”

“Possibility. That’s what they told me before, when I was your age too,” Sanghyeok’s head nods as he recalls his memory. “But I didn’t do all those meetings, avoided it by going to a PC Bang or taking care of pups. Then when the time came,” Sanghyeok lightly gnawed on his lip, a playful grin playing on his lips. “I ran away instead.”

Jihoon thinks of Sanghyeok’s debut—the new dazzling username “Faker” appearing from thin air on a random day in April of 2013. He was definitely young, like he was, all those years ago, and now that Jihoon is standing in front of him right now, hearing words that’d never ever be revealed in interviews, it blooms a forming understanding between them.

“You… you ran away?” Jihoon is riddled with shock at the revelation.

“I didn’t like the alpha they were pairing me with.” Sanghyeok says simply, as if what he was saying wasn’t tilting Jihoon off axis. “The elders have always been kind to me, it was the higher families that never came around in the end. I sort of expected it when they took the chance once I turned seventeen,” his voice shifts down to a softer degree. “I was going a bit crazy too..”

“And then?” Jihoon questions carefully, eager to know more.

A serene look replaces Sanghyeok’s grin. “They helped me, you know, to escape.” He fiddles with the edges of his veil, a playful tinge joining his face. “My father and grandmother distracted everyone in our part of the compound. The elders started a competitive game of yutnori, and the children, oh, they showered me with flowers on the way out. They all told me to run, that I still had time left to go to my debut match,”

Jihoon imagines a younger Sanghyeok dodging and running past fence gates, through winding pathways and lanterns in the darkness of a new day. A look of urgency and determination on his face in the unsureness he had of the future; and just behind him, he thinks of the people that pushed him onward, with only wishes, yutnori, and flowers decorating his path.

Yet Jihoon can tell, and can agree, that things like hesitation don’t matter when faced with possibilities—because Jihoon is the sort that runs too.

He likes running through the field with a basket of fruit in hand.

He likes… the possibility of staying a bit longer. Especially when he finishes earlier, a bit of pep in his step, as he travels across the wide land, basking in the sun for one day more in this tiny life of his. And he’d rest against a tree, or maybe if he’s energetic on that day, he’d rest atop a branch with an apple in hand.

Jihoon is scared of losing it—scared of the possibility of stopping.

Is this the possibility the elders were talking about? 

It’s cruel when he considers the idea. Jihoon feels pressure build in his chest, the fear that’s been building up over the years is bursting out in uneven breaths and shaking hands. 

He’s scared, Jihoon’s at a loss of what to do for the first time under the very sun he runs for.

Jihoon breathes unevenly, grounds himself by pinching himself at the thigh, then, “And you went. You became Faker, but they still,” his face twists into a scowl, his voice tight. “You’re still here. You’ve become older, but traditions stay the same, and you’re here again.”

“I’m still here.” Sanghyeok repeats. There’s a lightness to his expression as he continues, “They still found a way to bring me. I have to give credit, their tactic is smart,” Sanghyeok’s lips curl again. “They mentioned how Minhyung’s friend seemed a bit lost—how my experience would help him—”

“But it just made us both stuck.” Jihoon states thinly.

Sanghyeok nods. “It made us both stuck,” then with a sigh, a smile accompanying it after. “But you know what? I’m glad it’s with someone I know. Thank you, Jihoon-ah.”

What makes Jihoon stop the anger boiling in his gut is Sanghyeok’s smile, his gratitude, honest and pure for Jihoon to bear witness to. It renders him speechless, a bit faint in the head, yet continues to make him feel that everything will be okay. It makes him feel like everything he's done in his life wasn’t for naught—and won’t become naught in the face of becoming a young spouse in the middle of Seoul (there’s no way he won’t be in Seoul, that’s where his dream is).

But at the cost of what? Jihoon’s already scared for tomorrow, the possibility that everything will end if he picks someone—burdening them with him, who doesn’t quite know how to live yet.

He can’t do that to them! He still hasn’t figured out what he’s supposed to do.

Just as Jihoon was about to go and continue his train of thought, in the far off distance, there’s a roar of applause and yelling that bursts out in echoes. Jihoon guesses it’s coming from where the stage was; a lot of it carries through the air and into their ears.

“Honestly, I’m a bit scared to go back.” Sanghyeok confesses.

Jihoon finds himself tracing his eyes over the twitch in Sanghyeok’s smile. He’s scared too, somehow, the only telling sign would be the way his shoulders sagged down when the boisterous sound reached them; unbelieving of the big disconnect between their present predicament and their clansmen.

“Are there other alphas that’ll get you there too, hyung?” Jihoon's voice turns serious.

“No, it’s not that,” Sanghyeok nervously curls the veil around his face. “Maybe... Do you want to know why I got some fresh air earlier?”

Jihoon internally readies himself—one, two… then, “If you don’t mind me asking…?”

“You must know, must have learned, that people who back out from these traditions are banned from marrying right?”

Oh.

Jihoon’s brows furrow, and he recalls, his voice frightened, “But you ran away all those years ago? Hyung, don’t tell me…”

“I did, and I was dubbed ineligible,” Sanghyeok confirms. The way he says it so easily breaks Jihoon’s heart. “But you see, the thing is for older omegas like me, I’m usually put aside like the rest of them,” he continues solemnly. “Imagine my surprise when—”

Jihoon’s heart does a little leap of fear, across a ravine, an idea striking him along with Sanghyeok’s explanation.

“—they put you here to hitch you off too?” Sanghyeok stops talking, nodding instead and Jihoon's heart twists—he doesn’t understand the sudden pull that’s guiding him along. “But why, hyung? Aren’t the things you’ve achieved great enough for you to make your own decision on this matter?”

“That’s what I thought at first too. But sometimes people can’t help but see through it,” Sanghyeok laughs lightly, shaking his head, his bangs gracefully falling over his eyelids. “They are really insistent on making me settle before I become old, or something along those lines,” Sanghyeok then smiles cheekily. “Though you can tell that I never really listened to them all that much over the years. They’re too noisy and definitely persistent, as you can tell.”

Jihoon’s taken aback by the clarity that’s in his eyes—a quiet but grown understanding that’s developed over the long course of his career. He can tell that the experience of last year’s defeat, something that Jihoon stomached with a hole in his heart, has changed something in Faker, in Lee Sanghyeok.

“But you need control over your own happiness, hyung,” Jihoon feels a frown pull on his lips. “You can’t just be Faker to them, you’re one in a million!”

Sanghyeok presses a hand to his mouth, a hint of a smile peeking between his fingers. “You think so?”

“Of course.” Jihoon mindlessly replies. “When will someone as amazing as you ever exist again? It’s such a waste, I find it such a waste that a person like you is stuck here—”

Sanghyeok sucks in a loud breath as a smile has bloomed on his lips, cheeks bunched up as Jihoon rambles with strong conviction. Jihoon can tell he’s touched, he’s long realized somewhere and somehow, that Sanghyeok is someone that wears his feelings on his sleeve. The rumors and comments of people saying he’s emotionless are lies—Jihoon’s always strongly believed they are lies—but it feels invigorating being on the receiving end of it.

Jihoon feels happy being with Sanghyeok.

He can’t explain it, but he feels lighter standing near him.

He soon watches Sanghyeok’s face falter, another thought occurring to him in their little bubble, and Jihoon feels it, how the air shifts. The breeze dies down, the sun’s glow becomes dull, and Sanghyeok carefully ponders over the words he’s going to say again.

“Then tell me Jihoon,” Sanghyeok starts, the ease in his face suddenly uncanny and still.

Jihoon’s rambling goes quiet, he replies, equally expectant and fearful, “Ah. Tell you what, hyung?”

“Can you love me?” Sanghyeok whispers quietly. 

It’s a question that blows into his ears, a whisper, a caress in the wind that brushes against the emotions that unravel on both of their faces. Jihoon hears it, the fragility in the way Sanghyeok speaks—a tightness builds in his throat as he watches the older man slowly blink at his stunned silence; his fear rising, unraveling like the moon on a cloudy night.

Sanghyeok’s eyes are blown wide with a type of fear that Jihoon’s only seen on his own face—when he finds himself cursing everything that’s ever cursed at him—it was the type of fear that stared at him as if the world was going to end if any of them chose a way forward.

But what is forward? Jihoon breathes just as shakily as Sanghyeok does.

His hands tentatively reach to Sanghyeok, it’s the only forward he can pull off, an instinct that’s somehow built into him, and into the runs he’s spent under the many suns that’s witnessed him do so. 

At that exact moment, as Sanghyeok gasps, lips parting in surprise at Jihoon’s boldness—the sun strikes their surroundings, its warmth slapping both of them in the face, on his face especially; he’d be lying if he said he wasn’t literally blinded. 

And Jihoon wants to believe that there must be a script somewhere, written with messy handwriting and too many sticky notes wedged in-between, about possibilities, golden fields, and the person in front of him—the wind picks up, it must be their part of the scene, and the sun spreads just right behind Sanghyeok.

Jihoon’s watches how the veil spreads like a spell over Sanghyeok’s head, a halo illuminated by the setting sun, the script is a bit twisted—it’s too successful—Jihoon can’t breathe.

“Hyung.”

“I’m sorry,” Sanghyeok’s voice wobbles. “I’m a bit scared,” Jihoon tightens his grip on Sanghyeok’s trembling hands. “What if the things we believe in are just possibilities? What if tomorrow, I’ll be alone again, and they’ll make a verdict and say I’m not worth it, or that I’ve gotten too old? I hate that I’m aware that there’s a lot of things that can happen in just a day of living.”

Jihoon’s heart breaks a little more in the fear they share.

“But hyung, you’re,” Jihoon’s heart feels suffocated as he speaks. “You’re only twenty-two, you’ve done and achieved far more than the average person will in their entire lifetime. You braved through all of this for a dream, right?”

“I did, didn’t I?” Sanghyeok weeps. “It’s hard not to dream,” Sanghyeok’s eyes flicker to him, Jihoon’s seen right through—from somewhere, from a far-off place that he wants to reach into and pry open for him to understand Sanghyeok better. “It’s hard not to be a dreamer, or to just simply be, do you think we’re people that’s fated to be happy?”

“Of course, I believe everyone deserves to be happy!” Jihoon replies resolutely. “If anything, that’s why I’m so pissed off, and a bit heartbroken, that we’re here in the first place. I’ve always believed in that hyung, I want you to know that.”

“Then let me ask you again, Jihoon-ah,” Sanghyeok whispers. The hold of their hands lessens, softens, and he asks, “Do you think you could love a person like me?” Sanghyeok’s face crumples, breaks, just enough for Jihoon to see the fear laced in his demeanor. “Do you think I’ll be loved someday? Even with everything that’s attached to my name? With everything that I am and was?”

The silence that comes between them is brief—Jihoon

“Hyung if…” Jihoon breathes heavily, a subtle feeling of something overtaking his insides. “If I said that I believe in you, that I’ve believed in Faker, and the person Lee Sanghyeok, and that I—”

Sanghyeok’s eyes widen a bit more, his heart bleeding just for Jihoon to see—Jihoon’s heart spirals just a bit more under his gaze. And the fields continue to rustle under that summer’s day, the wind brushing their cheeks, and the veil atop Sanghyeok’s head once more—another time for Jihoon to keep in the memories that are building.

Jihoon somehow has an idea, that inside his head, his being, and in his heart—somewhere far off, far away, his memories are building around a person named Lee Sanghyeok.

His mind reels back to Sanghyeok seeing through him. A light bulb appears over his head, and now Jihoon wants to believe he’s found the place Sanghyeok has been peering into since the start of their meeting.

A quiet plea plays on his lips.

“I want to believe I will. Are you okay with that answer?”

Sanghyeok’s fear dissipates, his sobbing turns into a smile that blooms underneath the sun—underneath the unsureness of it all—but that doesn’t matter right now. 

Because despite his confusion, Jihoon grasps on a door handle that’s been inside him all along. He sees it—somewhere, somewhere far off in his memories of not Faker, but Lee Sanghyeok—it tells him that his smile was just for Jihoon to see.

He laughs weakly, eyes crinkling—they really do remind him of stars, twilight, and everything in between—and speaks in the breeze, the sun, and in the space that only holds them.

“More than okay,” Sanghyeok’s smile could only grow more beautifully. “It’s the best answer I’ve ever heard in my entire life.”

A scent so subtle, so lovely, joins the air around them and Jihoon isn’t suffocating for once. He breathes it in, letting it play along his emotions until he recognizes it, like a slap that smacks him all the way from his grandparents’ exclusive flower grove.

Ah.

Moonflowers.

Sanghyeok’s scent is of moonflowers.

Jihoon supports Sanghyeok on the way back to the bustling venue, both of his hands preoccupied guiding with one and the other resting on the small of Sanghyeok’s back. They’ve gone silent, comfortable in each other’s presence, yet Jihoon turns his head, just to speak a little thing of realization into the air once more.

“Hyung,”

Sanghyeok looks up at him from under his lashes. “Hm?”

“Has anyone told you that your scent, the moonflowers,” Jihoon smiles boyishly. “They really really suit you.”

A look of surprise crosses Sanghyeok’s face, momentarily appearing before a chuckle is given. Jihoon feels Sanghyeok’s hand squish his, a smile still on their faces, and he replies breezily.

“You’re the first one that’s ever told me that.”

♡

Sanghyeok is born as a mortal that belongs to the moon clan.

It’s strange seeing the modernized world of planets, stars, satellites—the likes of which would stir a war in the cosmos from how desperate it was to simply exist back then. It’s a jarring difference that needs to be experienced, when Sanghyeok realizes that he needs to relearn the ability to walk, to talk, and to experience being a mortal again.

He died, didn’t he?

He still remembers Jihoon, his sweet sweet Jihoon—the one who loved him till the end of his orbit and under the sun of a new day. Sanghyeok remembers feeling at peace, with Jihoon by his side, and with the love they shared till he drew his last breath.

The mere thought of forgetting the love that continues to strum in his heart, scares Sanghyeok to a great degree.

Sanghyeok realizes, around 10 days into his new life, the blessing that’s been thrust upon him—it’s the fact that he remembers what once was and what could be.

His memories are like freshly picked flowers he dips his head into to see at least twice to thrice per day; because though he’s living a new version of what life could be, Sanghyeok has only ever known to love his sun-blessed prince. 

As Sanghyeok grows bigger, his silence scares his father, so much so that he gets taken to a doctor, a modern version of a potions master and healer combined into one. He’s carefully checked over, weird mechanisms and new magical techniques being casted upon his toddler body. 

At the end, the doctor could only tell his father that nothing was wrong with him.

His father is perplexed at him, but he doesn’t opt to push for more medication, for more treatment to diagnose his quiet baby. The doctor is simply thanked for their time and he’s brought home in the warm embrace of his father.

Instead, as a different solution, what his father does is to talk to him about the daily happenings of the world.

His father quite likes the birds, the flowers that grow around the moon clan’s estate, and he expresses dreams of moving elsewhere for Sanghyeok to grow into a better moon. Sanghyeok doesn’t get the implication his father’s been saying, but he listens patiently and is entirely intrigued by the new world around him.

The man is kind—his father is kind, and Sanghyeok hopes to learn a way to quell his father’s worries with the knowledge he has at his disposal.

Only a week after his father’s dedication to telling him stories about the world outside, Sanghyeok lets out a soft but sure, “Appa..” into the quiet confines of their home. 

His father is startled, shaken, until an endeared yet relieved expression goes on his face.

Sanghyeok’s heart feels impossibly full with love yet again, of unfamiliar parental love, that leaves him breathless, eliciting only a giggle to escape his mouth. His father merely embraces him, arms always sturdy and firm in carrying him around, and Sanghyeok responds by hugging back with all his might.

The inhabitants of their cozy abode, their home, only consists of him, his father, and his grandmother; his mother is nowhere in sight and Sanghyeok doesn’t dwell on it for too long, the term mother in of itself is unfamiliar to an old moon like him. Sanghyeok will only ever learn to know and feel what a father and grandmother is—he doesn’t and will never find himself shying away from the unfamiliar concept of family.

He’s filled with warmth—Sanghyeok grows up in the warmth of his father and grandmother, who take long walks with him through the estate’s well-taken care of gardens, who feed him treats that he never thought would be possible, and who hold his hands with each unsure step he took in a different direction.

It’s funny that he’s raised with warmth—Sanghyeok has only known the vastness and coldness of space through most of his lifespan as a moon.

Sanghyeok hopes that Jihoon, wherever or whoever he’s become, is filled with warmth too.

Their family isn’t high up in the branches, it’s what most would call a lower branch in their clan, and if anything Sanghyeok has calculated that they were just right near the trunk, not too high to be an authoritative figure and not too low to not be a part of the compounds in the main estate area. Yet Sanghyeok, with their meager authority and humble influence, still finds himself traveling farther and outwards to play with other children and to run around on shaky feet.

It’s exhilarating feeling so alive—it’s how his family lets Sanghyeok grow.

He grows underneath tiled eaves, shares yakgwa between numerous children, and learns how to play games that the world has conjured in the time he’s been gone. Sanghyeok doesn’t know exactly when, but he finds himself pulled into babysitting; it reminds him too much of the stars and moons that trickled between his fingers.

But it doesn’t make him sad, and rather, it leaves him feeling fulfilled at another child well-kept under his watchful eye.

The first instance of realization comes in the form of Minhyung.

Minhyung.

Minhyung is a fussy baby, a pup they termed it as in this new life, and is a ruckus that shakes the whole compound into desperately banging on their door in the middle of the night for help. Sanghyeok goes on to sleepily take the baby into his arms, senses familiarity in the way the pup wails, and hums him to sleep.

What happens after is that Minhyung follows Sanghyeok like a little duckling that’s imprinted on the wrong mother. 

The pup likes him too much, just as he did back when they were moons in the same sky, yet Sanghyeok doesn’t have the cold heart in him anymore to shoo him away. He merely carries Minhyung around, teaches him of places, the nooks and crannies, shortcuts, and fruit trees free for the taking. Then at the end of each day, Sanghyeok makes sure to return the pup home, into the grateful arms of his parents, and to slink away before Minhyung registers it happening.

What Sanghyeok didn’t know at the time, was that his outwardly and genuine care of children reaches other families.

He finds himself juggling them in his daily life—the pups are too fond of him to let go—and so they start dubbing him the pup mother at the age of 16, the title being one of many that he’ll receive in the future.

Amidst all the pups, and modern machinery he’s fiddled with, his grandmother squeezes in something that catches his attention.

It’s a PC, that's what he's heard people downtown call it, and in the old dusty monitor screen his grandmother had asked his father to haul into a corner of their home, it had games installed. He fiddles with each of them under his grandmother's guidance, and it reels him into another world stored and coded with data, numbers, and all the like. Then about an hour into his exploration, that’s when he spots it.

League of Legends.

“What’s this?” Sanghyeok asks curiously.

A sound of acknowledgment. “Oh that? I heard from the storekeeper that it’s the game everyone’s been playing these days. I had it put in, in case you wanted to try it too.”

Sanghyeok turns to give a smile in thanks. “Thank you for this, halmeoni.”

“Aish, you sweet child, you’ve grown but you still have that look of wonder in your eyes,” her face softens, age showing in the lines that deepen. “Please always be happy Sanghyeok-ah.”

And happy he was.

He plays the game in the time he manages to make between classes and pup rearing—those who have grown out of his hands and follow him like ducklings, with Minhyung proudly in the lead. Sanghyeok bides his time with everything he’s ever learnt, known, and will come to love in his new life, finding himself happily preoccupied and his knowledge sated.

It’s cut short somewhere in December of that year—the second realization that comes in a silver embroidered envelope.

You are to be wedded to…

Sanghyeok doesn’t finish the letter, because he rips it by the time his eyes graze it.

He’s always known, felt, that the higher branches didn’t like his growing influence. Whatever effort was done to deter him has always failed in his wake, because tactics that’re done to harm his path will only be met with a swift wave of magic blown in their direction. 

Of course, they don’t like his response—Sanghyeok was once an old moon, now a growing mortal, and he doesn’t cower in fear nor hide in the face of an obstacle stacked against him.

It becomes even more damning to the families when Sanghyeok reaches prestige within the game he’s grown well-versed in. They hear about his scouting offer from a prestigious telecompany, the pups gushing about how their pup mother is going to play on the big stage and it only spurs their commitment to disturb him from then on.

The only way Sanghyeok responds is by tangling his foes with the moon’s help.

And though he’s become mortal, younger, and definitely not a moon, the hanging satellite in the sky responds to his coaxing hands. He easily takes strings of magic, slots them in his hold, and waves magic the clan hasn’t seen nor heard of in its entire existence.

It helps as much as he hopes it would.

The children like talking about how pretty the moon is when he’s the one under it, weaving and humming for their enjoyment.

But oftentimes, Sanghyeok also finds himself backed against a wall, he recognizes it when pups are stopped from coming to him and when the elders are forbidden to mingle with his antics—the attendants under direct control of the families they belong to.

It’s a bit hard, Sanghyeok doesn’t like seeing his family so worried whenever he takes a trip outside to the local PC Bang.

He still escapes from the meetings, slips by in the darkness under the careful guidance of the moon’s glow—but it’s lonely, it’s moments like this in his new life, where he thinks how it’s oh so lonely.

He remembers things—remembers what once was—and for what?

His knowledge can only go so far sometimes in the newness of everything that surrounds him. Even Minhyung, his right-hand in their past life, doesn’t seem to remember the troubles the moonfolk and sunfolk had gone through to get to today. It’s a bit jarring, when Sanghyeok is left alone to think, ponder, and wonder if maybe…

Maybe Jihoon is somewhere?

The thought as depressing as it was, is instead a balm that soothes his nerves in the dead of night.

Eunbyeol believed in the stories he’s told, so why can’t he have belief in it too? That maybe, in the heavens above, Sanghyeok will meet Jihoon somewhere, somehow, and in some way, as crazy as the thought is.

But Sanghyeok—admittedly—has always been a bit crazy.

He’s reincarnated into the same world with new things he can’t help but fixate on, has a family that loves him, the pups he’s watched over are growing into respectable figures within the clan, and he’s dabbling into a new profession that the world has churned up out of thin air. There’s a lot of interesting things that Sanghyeok can’t help but try and experience.

The lows and the highs are headbutting each other, but Sanghyeok continues to bask himself in it all—because living is so wonderful.

It’s one of the very things Jihoon has given him the pleasure of learning.

And so when the time came for his debut, Sanghyeok didn't expect his love—the type of love that he’s learnt to cherish and flourish—come back to him in the form of the people’s he’s gotten to know.

His family distracts the attendees from searching for the elders, with said elders starting a racket with a grandiose yutnori game in the middle of the estate. The children help him get through places he’s taught them, through nooks and crannies, shortcuts, and running under the shade of tall fruit trees; their little hands splay flowers on his path, wishes and giggles of good luck are the only things driving him forward.

On that day, the name “Faker” arrives on the scene.

What happens next is a repeat of the life he’s lived thus far—everyone grows alongside him, the pups magically conjure ways to reach him faster, the elders all the more delighted with the way he’s thriving—and all is well.

The third realization comes in the form of Jeong Jihoon.

Sanghyeok wonders, and wonders he does, as to why he's standing in front of said beloved in a new life—Jeong Jihoon, his prince, and now, fellow mid laner.

He’s shaken because Jihoon stands just shy near his height, his snaggletooth the same as they once were when he was 17 in their last life, and he’s looking at Sanghyeok as if he were a god, far off from familiarity and as a figure to be admired. It definitely wasn’t the type of look that Sanghyeok knew of; it was the type he’d see on fans, a lot of whom he’s met and is thankful for in the career he’s grown into.

Sanghyeok takes the chance to greet Jihoon when he notices the younger teen slip away into another room.

Jihoon is bouncing his leg in nervousness when Sanghyeok tries to formulate words that he’s secretly read in fictional books.

“Do I know you from somewhere?”

Jihoon physically jumps in his seat, startled and in awe of his sudden presence. Sanghyeok’s eyes search for any sign of recognition, a flicker of his prince in the teen in front of him, but finds himself musing inwardly at the answer that plainly presents itself.

Jeong Jihoon doesn’t remember anything.  

“No… Faker-ssi.” Jihoon replies with a gulp.

“Really? Is that so?” Sanghyeok tilts his head and reels in his inner turmoil. “Maybe my memory is messing with me… what’s your name?”

“Chovy!” Jihoon springs upward and gives him a deep bow.

“Oh what, not that name,” Sanghyeok finds himself laughing, his eyes crinkling at the edges. Despite not remembering one another, Jihoon’s still the same as he was. “I meant your name name, you know. The one your parents gave you.”

“Ah…” Jihoon’s face bursts red with embarrassment. “Jeong Jihoon, it’s nice to meet you━”

Ah.

Sanghyeok wants to cry a bit the longer he stares at him.

“Lee Sanghyeok, but please call me hyung,” Sanghyeok feels a smile escape him with the upturn of his eyes. “Do you mind if we talk before the start of the game or do you want to cool down by yourself?”

Even though Jihoon doesn’t recognize him━doesn’t remember━Sanghyeok still finds himself relaxing in his presence, as Jihoon rambles an enthusiastic yes, as they share a handshake and a jolt travels in their joint hands. 

The current prickles his insides, another reminder that he may be the only one who’ll ever know what the cosmos once was and what Jihoon was like before the present.

Sanghyeok doesn’t dwell on his thoughts any further. 

He’ll make do━Sanghyeok has no choice to but make do.

Despite his doubt, and a fear of being regarded as just “Faker”, Sanghyeok sees how Jihoon’s eyes glisten when they talk to one another. What sort of luck does Sanghyeok have in the universe, for Jihoon to look at him in that way━in one of the few ways his prince would attack him with, on a normal day out in the plaza, or to eat the secret treats vendors keep for them to test.

While he misses those days, Sanghyeok likes this look on Jihoon━he’s boyish, young, and the most free he's ever seen him.

He looks well, looks to be loved with the way he mentions his parents support in taking a chance at eSports, and he’s gladly chatting up a storm about the life he’s led to get where he is now. Sanghyeok listens patiently, lets himself soak in the newness of it, and enjoys the conversation they share until their time ends.

They separate ways━Jihoon still jittery, but with so much joy in the way he waves goodbye, as they go back to their separate teams.

That isn’t his Jihoon, but Sanghyeok somehow feels at ease, because Jihoon is happy in this life too. His wishes and hopes for his prince did come true, and in some way, Sanghyeok’s found a way back to him in the funniest way possible.

Not more than two weeks after they met, Sanghyeok was given one last final envelope from the higher families.

He's in complete disbelief with the words he's reading because they write it this time with bolded letters, a type of font that makes him feel dizzy. Sanghyeok steels himself for the incoming event just shy of a few hours of the coming day.

It’s a bit of a comical montage that happens to him—he’s woken up by a frazzled Minhyung, the teen incredibly concerned and fussy that he hasn’t dressed up yet. All the pups shove clothing onto him and Sanghyeok doesn’t recognize himself in the mirror at the end of it.

He’s brought to a car with Soyeon in the driver’s seat, waiting for them. She looks to be as equally stressed as Minhyung when Sanghyeok calmly plops into the backseat, Minhyung automatically taking his place at the front.

When they arrive, Soyeon and Minhyung babble rules they must’ve conjured with the rest of the children.

But Sanghyeok politely listens, his hands folded on his lap, body resting on a chair, as both siblings list everything that he can do and who he shouldn’t approach at all costs. He idly wonders whom they got their protective streak from. It certainly isn’t him, and he thinks it’ll continue being a mystery with how they discreetly act around him.

They then reluctantly leave him—duties as the present Lee representatives beckoning them to entertain the rest of the crowd.

Sanghyeok lasts a grand total of twenty minutes in the venue—eating appetizers, drinking juice (he’s never liked alcohol after drowning himself in it long ago), and entertains himself by watching the magic that floats around—until he decides to run away.

He doesn’t run but Sanghyeok strides on the heels they’ve gifted him.

Years of playing dress up have paid off, his feet don’t ache when he traverses the fields he thought he’ll never see.

It takes his breath away, a tearful smile playing on his lips as he marvels at the place he’s walked countless years ago. He spreads his arms, lets his fingers play on the tips of wheat, feels the wind greet him with the freshness of summer, and suddenly Sanghyeok doesn’t feel so young anymore.

What is he doing? What has Lee Sanghyeok been doing in his twenty-two years of living?

Sanghyeok kicks a pebble with the tips of his heels—his mind wanders for a while, eyes fixating on the ground underneath the setting sun.

There’s one thing about Sanghyeok that most people aren’t privy to and it’s that he’s an omega with the self-awareness of a cheeseball. It sends most of his loved ones through a loop, most especially the rare few within his teammates that stumbled upon his likeness.

He’s often mistaken as a beta, which he doesn’t fault to those that try getting close to him. Though with Jeonggyun-hyung, Junsik, and Jaewan flipping out whenever a player tries reaching toward him—Sanghyeok is still oblivious to the many eyes that settle on him.

Especially now.

It’s a big burly alpha that blocks his way forward.

“Can I help you?” Sanghyeok raises a brow, lips pulling down at the elated expression on the man’s face.

“What’s a pretty little omega doing all alone over here?” A smile is given, to most probably charm him, but Sanghyeok’s frown only grows deeper.

He swats at the creeping hand approaching his shoulders. “Taking a breather, please excuse me, I have somewhere to be.”

An arm blocks his attempt at going past. “That’s where I’m going too! You don’t mind if I tag along?”

“I mind very much!” Sanghyeok shoots an annoyed glance at him. “I can perfectly take care of myself, please mind your manners.”

“C’mon now,” that alpha tries smiling, mouth opening to lick his lips. Sanghyeok reels back immediately, cringing at the smell that wafts over to him. “C’mon now you can pick me and you won’t have to worry your pretty little thing—”

Sanghyeok instinctively turns when he hears the rushing of shoes approach them, he catches how the sunset spreads over the growing wheat fields for another year of successful harvest has come to the the sun clan, and he watches how Jihoon barrels into view; his expression serious and jaw clenched towards the alpha that stood all imposing in front of him. 

When the light strikes the boy’s figure━into the creases on Jihoon’s face━Sanghyeok feels his breath catch in his throat.

He sees Jihoon.

That’s what his mind stutters, manages to register, as Jihoon shoves a hand to strongly block the alpha’s advances. His eyes are wide, he can only watch as Jihoon starts barking back, and he doesn’t need to protect him like this; Sanghyeok is perfectly fine, that’s what he wants to believe.

His belief is shattered when the alpha lunges and Sanghyeok pulls on the air, his fingers strumming on magic, and the alpha can only register the pain that’s inwardly inflicted before he screams all ugly. He tugs on the string once more and that’s when the alpha is silenced.

Jihoon looks at him in disbelief━exclaiming that he killed someone.

He didn’t kill the man, he just… paralyzed certain parts of his body for him to become knocked out.

Yet Sanghyeok would’ve liked to reply that yes I would’ve, but the world has changed, we’ve changed… 

Jihoon-ah, the world has changed for the better and the need to slaughter is a thing of the past. There will be nothing that’ll call for a bell toll or for you to worry about comets, arrows that kill moons, or for you to continue seeking the presence of an advisor.

But Jihoon doesn’t look at him with contempt, or anything of the sort, there’s understanding, something else that makes Sanghyeok’s chest hurt the more he memorized Jihoon’s face into the crevices of his heart.

They continue on to ramble━Jihoon does the rambling, like he always does, and Sanghyeok listens and tells stories of his life thus far.

Sanghyeok doesn’t know what to think when Jihoon looks at him in that way. He doesn’t know what he’s doing, Jihoon doesn’t know the gaze he’s settled on Sanghyeok━there’s a wave of longing, yearning, and love that consumes him and pulls him underneath.

He holds his breath as Jihoon speaks, always brisk, brash, and entirely him.

“Of course.” Jihoon goes on to say, his eyes ignited with honesty that rivaled the stars. “When will someone as amazing as you ever exist again? It’s such a waste, I find it such a waste that a person like you is stuck here—”

Sanghyeok feels his chest well up, an emotion overtaking his insides just as it always did when it came to him.

“Can you love me?”

Sanghyeok has only known how to love━he’s only known how to enjoy existing because of Jihoon, but in this new life of his, he’s learnt what fear was. 

He’s learnt that being fearful could push him forward, to lengths that make him feel like he’s about to reach the highest peak. But then there are times when the fear creeps into his heart as a reminder of what once was and it renders him quiet at the end of a long day.

Sanghyeok is scared━he’s only ever known so much yet so little━but he wants to believe, once more, that if the heavens gave them this life, then he’d learn how to love just as Jihoon did.

Sanghyeok awaits━his heart hopping through ravines as Jihoon and he exchange words━until hears something that takes his breath away.

“I want to believe I will. Are you okay with that answer?”

His heart constricts, Sanghyeok takes in a deep breath and feels his chest burst from a striking realization that he should’ve had when they first met just two weeks ago.

Jihoon will always be his Jihoon.

The sun definitely recognizes Jihoon, it frames him in the same way it did when Sanghyeok realized he loved him, and in this life too, Sanghyeok weeps, his heart beating the way it always did when it came to him.

He speaks, a smile long overdue given to Jihoon.

“More than okay, it’s the best answer I’ve ever heard in my entire life.”

(Their marriage isn’t anything extravagant—it’s like the elders expected something to come out of the fields hand in hand—one dressed in a brown patterned vintage suit too big for his body and the other dressed in a white puffy sleeved top paired with black slacks. 

A mop of unruly hair on Jihoon and a white laced veil on Sanghyeok.

They looked too pleased, it stirred a sort of protective instinct in Jihoon’s belly when they walked near the stage. They aren’t noticed or anything, they weren’t called over either, but they both decide that it’s better to get things over with than to let it stall any longer.

Sanghyeok sort of freezes up when they’re near—scanning Jihoon up and down for anything out of sorts.

“Are you sure?” Sanghyeok smooths a hand on his sleeve. Jihoon spots how his suit is fraying ever so slowly, unraveling and quite literally breaking. He doesn’t feel worried, he instead smiles, and rests a reassuring hand over Sanghyeok.

“Hyung, do you believe me?” Jihoon asks gently, quietly, only for Sanghyeok’s ears to catch.

There’s a heavy pause━Sanghyeok is looking at him, an unreadable expression resting on his face. Sanghyeok scans his face once more, a few tears form in the corner of his eyes, as he then sighs in defeat, a smile coating his lips once again.

“I believe in you, Jihoon-ah. I think I always will.”

“That’s all you needed to say, Sanghyeok-ah.”

Jihoon smiles back, not missing the way Sanghyeok looks at him from somewhere—it was somewhere Jihoon’s only starting to understand with this tiny brain of his. But they have all the time ahead of them, Jihoon doesn’t worry, he sees it in the way Sanghyeok gazes at and through him.

He bravely intertwines their fingers, feels something thrum in his heart, sees Sanghyeok’s face glow under the lights of the venue, and they move forward together.)