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Darkest Before the Dawn

Chapter Text

Most of the coven was on edge following the attack.

The mansion was all but locked down with Mingi, Jongho and Yunho taking shifts to make sure the security room always had coverage. Hongjoong didn’t step even a single foot outside for days, even going so far as to avoid standing too near the windows. But for all their caution, nothing came of it. It seemed that Sunrise had not managed to track them down after all.

 Things were quiet.

A week went by before Eden heard back from his contacts that the laboratory had finished testing the sample Seonghwa had sent to them.

Hongjoong wasn’t in the room when he received the lab report. He didn’t even know he’d gotten it until the hunter ran into Eden, who looked rather solemn and perhaps slightly haunted. Weirdly, he was just standing in Seonghwa’s study, as though he’d been left waiting there and zoned out.

“Uh… everything okay, Eden?”

The other hunter snapped out of his thoughts, clearing his throat. “Yeah, sorry, what?”

“Is something wrong?” Hongjoong tried again, his question not really having been answered.

“No, not really, just, uh. We got the lab results back and Seonghwa seemed… really upset. He excused himself to go calm down.” Eden replied, and it was clear from his tone that he hadn't known what to make of that at all.

Of course, neither of them had ever known Seonghwa to become truly angered, so clearly the results had greatly concerned him.

“What, uh… what did the lab say?” Hongjoong asked in a small voice.

“Nothing incredibly nefarious in their little concoction, to be honest. Just a mix of stimulants—potent stuff, yeah—but that was it.” Eden answered.

“Why would that make Seonghwa so upset, then?” Hongjoong mused aloud.

“I was wondering the same thing.” Eden admitted. “It was just a bunch of uppers, and it’s not like you have a working heart that it could have overloaded or something. Honestly, I can’t even figure out what those Sunrise pricks were even going for with that drug.”

Hongjoong couldn’t either. It didn’t really make any sense to him. Why dose him with something that, if anything, gave him an edge in a fight against them? 

And then it hit him.

It was never meant to kill him. It was never meant to hinder him in any way. The press had been there, cameras rolling, for a reason.

The intention of the drug was to send him into a frenzy. They wanted evidence that even a vampire trusted to protect humans—a hunter, one in the good graces of Park Seonghwa himself—could be made uncontrollably violent.

“Holy shit.” He whispered, mostly to himself.

“What?” Eden asked, clearly still clueless.

“Those bastards thought they could just… make me go feral or something. Like some kind of rabid beast.” Hongjoong let out a scoff. “No wonder Seonghwa is upset. They basically just implied they think we’re nothing but animals… or that deep down, we’re predatory monsters that have to tightly control ourselves not to harm or kill.”

“Wow.” Eden sighed, shaking his head. “Yeah, that… makes everything they did make a lot more sense. And it explains why Seonghwa reacted so intensely.”

“I’ll go talk to him.” Hongjoong assured. “Maybe… run some interference with the kids? Keep ‘em from bothering him?”

“How come I always end up on babysitting duty?” Eden grumbled.

“Because when the parents are busy… responsibility falls to the grumpy uncle.” Hongjoong replied with a shit-eating grin, patting Eden on the shoulder before taking his leave.

Eden probably should have protested, but he honestly couldn’t find the energy.

***

Hongjoong realized once he’d left that he had no earthly idea where Seonghwa had gone. He’d mentioned needing to calm down, but Hongjoong didn’t know what he would turn to in order to do so. The first place he checked was the library, which he found empty. Seonghwa’s bedroom was similarly unoccupied, and even the veranda was abandoned. Seonghwa wasn’t a particularly violent or physical person, but Hongjoong checked the forge, too, just to ensure he wasn’t utilizing the punching bags or the gun range. He found Yunho there, alone, and he, too, had no clue where Seonghwa was.

When he returned into the main part of the house, Hongjoong could suddenly hear music, as though someone had just started playing.

A violin, specifically—at least from what Hongjoong could tell with his somewhat barebones knowledge of classical instruments.

He headed for the music room down the hall.

Playing an instrument certainly wouldn’t have been one of his first guesses for how the average person might calm themselves down, but, well… Seonghwa was hardly average.

As he made his way closer, the sound grew louder. He stopped in front of the door, taking a pointless breath to steel himself. He wasn’t sure how he was going to handle the situation, but he couldn’t exactly leave Seonghwa to stew on his own.

Hongjoong pushed open the music room door. Yeosang, however, was standing in the doorway. He halted as though he’d been on his way out, a violin in one hand and the bow in the other.

For a moment, he’d wondered if he had been mistaken, and that it had been Yeosang playing. However, behind him, an unusual melody still floated from the room, clearly played by someone else.

Hongjoong cleared his throat awkwardly, motioning to the instrument, “I was gonna ask if that was actually you playing, but… I guess not.”

“Mm, no, that would be Seonghwa. He only called me down to ask where I’d put the violins. I allowed him his own but he isn’t coming near my Guarneri when he’s like this.” Yeosang replied, holding his violin somewhat protectively.

“Ah. It’s just, I didn’t know he played. I mean, I guess that makes sense, but I’ve only ever seen him on the piano or harpsichord.”

“Mm, he does favor them.” Yeosang admitted. “I’ve only ever known him to play the violin when he’s angry.”

Hongjoong took that in. The emotion of anger and his ever-calm, collected Seonghwa simply could not reconcile in his mind.

“Is he that upset?”

“Livid, by the sound of him. He started on Vivaldi, but now he’s playing Rachmaninoff. Heaven help us if he starts in on Paganini.” Yeosang told him in a grave tone, as though it should mean something to him. The vampire sighed, offering a somewhat terse nod before continuing on his way.

Hongjoong swallowed, steeling himself again before pushing through the music room door.

Whatever Seonghwa was playing was… chaotic. The staccato nature of the piece was almost grating on the ears, the sharp notes setting Hongjoong’s teeth on edge. He approached, but he didn’t announce himself, not wishing to interrupt. He simply listened, taking in the performance.

When Seonghwa finally finished, he turned sharply toward Hongjoong, appearing as though a barbed quip was on the tip of his tongue, but his expression loosened slightly upon seeing that it was not who he expected.

“Oh. Yeosang left.”

“He did. Was that, uh… Rockman—whoever?” Hongjoong asked cluelessly.

“Prelude in G Minor, composed by Sergei Rachmaninoff.” Seonghwa confirmed. “Though I sense that is information you do not particularly care to know.”

Hongjoong’s brow furrowed. His tone had been what one could consider calm, but he knew Seonghwa well enough to realize that had been a dig. It was wildly against his usual character, if only because Hongjoong could sense the venom in it, hidden behind all that self-control.

“I care if it’s you.” He murmured almost petulantly, and maybe it was a little manipulative—he could see the exact moment when the guilt hit Seonghwa, just the slightest crinkle of a wince at his brow—but Hongjoong pressed on, refusing to make him feel he should apologize. “And Yeosang said to worry if you started playing Paganini.”

Seonghwa huffed, shaking his head. “Of course he did.”

“What’s, um… why is that the benchmark?” Hongjoong asked.

Seonghwa gave something of a scoff, raising his bow. “Do you know anything of Paganini?”

Hongjoong frowned. “I can’t say that I do.”

Seonghwa sighed, setting his bow along the strings before beginning to play a new piece. It was rather upbeat to start, and perhaps vaguely familiar in the way that Hongjoong had surely heard it somewhere before—maybe just a clip of it—or a variation upon a variation, remixed and reimagined in the churn of pop-culture.

“Niccolo Paganini was an Italian composer who rose to prominence in the early 1800’s.” Seonghwa spoke as he played. Hongjoong was sure that was sacrilegious, or maybe even impossible for the average human violinist, but he made it look effortless. “He began playing violin at the age of seven, and studied under several great masters of the violin at the time. He was so skilled that many of those masters immediately referred him to their teachers, knowing there was not much he would learn from them.”

He paused for a moment to play a particularly quick part, continuing again when the song slowed into a somewhat haunting melody.

“Surely, Paganini was a genius, surely he was skilled, and surely he spent hours practicing, toiling to perfect his craft.” Seonghwa continued, frustration creeping into his tone. “But more than that, there was something in his physicality that allowed him to play notes which many other musicians could not. Scholars, for years, have theorized he may have had Marfan’s Syndrome or Ehlers-Danlos Syndrome… disorders which affect the joints and connective tissues of the human body. He was in poor health for much of his life, and those diagnoses would explain both that, and his incomparable ability to play pieces thought to be impossible for others to replicate.”

Seonghwa played a succession of incredibly quick notes, all perfectly on-pitch.

“He was a genius, and a showman. He would file down his strings so that they would break, one by one, during a performance, until he was forced to play on a single string. Some of his compositions were meant to be played on but one string.” Seonghwa continued. “He revolutionized the instrument. His caprices for solo violin are a test of skill and endurance for performers. This, his 24th Caprice, is perhaps his most well-known composition. His caprices are considered to be some of the most difficult violin pieces to play, and yet, for him, they were not ones he performed publicly—they were simply his warm-up routine.”

Seonghwa played a section of notes pizzicato; plucking the strings with his left hand as he tapped his bow along them below the bridge, his fingers moving dizzyingly quick.

Hongjoong admittedly did not know much about classical music, but all of that sounded incredible. Paired with what he was hearing—the piece sounding as jarringly complex as it did—and what he was seeing; Seonghwa’s left hand moving in quick, precise motions that were nearly impossible to follow… he was getting a clear picture of just who this man was.

But he was uncertain why all of it was relevant, until Seonghwa spoke again, the song becoming higher and lighter, with an almost airy quality.

“He was a virtuoso of unmatched calibre. But do you know what humans believed, at the time? They looked at his genius and his ability and they claimed he’d sold his soul to the devil for such talent.”

Seonghwa’s tone was bitter as he scoffed, falling silent for a moment as he continued to play the piece, the notes becoming deeper and harsher.

“Humans see anything beyond their understanding and they classify it as evil. They refuse to think past the scope of their own limited knowledge, instead assigning arbitrary labels of morality with no basis in fact.” Seonghwa sounded truly angry, then, as the section he was playing became more intense. “He was denied a Catholic burial for thirty years—he was denied the interment his faith was meant to grant him because of superstition. Because of ignorance.”

His fingers flew over the strings, the press of his bow more prevalent and causing the sound to become louder, reverberating in a way that almost made it seem that there were two violins playing next to each other.

“Ignorance is dark. It is fear become weaponized. It is violent.” Seonghwa hissed, playing so intensely that Hongjoong suddenly understood why Yeosang had feared for his own instrument. “I have allowed their bigotry to fester, allowed it a place in civilized debate. For too long, I have allowed humans to treat us as lesser, to prevent war—only for terrorists to take up arms against us. I have allowed things to come this far—but no further.”

Seonghwa finished the piece with a final, intense downward movement of his bow, and then the room fell eerily silent.

“No further.” He repeated after a long moment, quiet and resolute. 

Hongjoong stared, speechless, with no earthly idea where to even begin.

Seonghwa moved, eventually, setting his violin gently into its case along with the bow. He let his fingers trail over the strings, thoughtful.

“I believe it is time I remind them just what concessions we vampires made to assuage their fears. It is time that they remembered just what they are afraid of.” He muttered darkly.

“But… isn’t that—doesn’t that just make them… right?” Hongjoong murmured, balling his hand into a fist to stop it from shaking. He’d never seen Seonghwa like this, and he would be lying if he claimed it did not frighten him at least a little. “I figured out why you were so upset. You realized what they were trying to do. They thought they could turn me into some kind of mindless, feral predator with nothing but a few stimulants.”

“They truly think so little of us.” Seonghwa responded bitterly. “They think we are animals. Monsters.”

“So how is reminding them why they’re afraid of us going to fix that?” Hongjoong questioned.

“It does not, but I have learned that there is no taking the high road with an amoral opponent. Negotiation becomes an illusion of compromise wherein you are the only participant willing to step forward to meet them, as they are constantly taking steps back.” Seonghwa told him.

“You always said those compromises were made to prevent war.” Hongjoong replied softly.

“That is true.” Seonghwa conceded. “I am a pacifist… but I am not a coward. They made a fatal mistake: they initiated war when they chose you.”

Hongjoong startled when Seonghwa cupped his face gently in both his hands, the heaviness of that statement washing over him. He knew Seonghwa meant them. Their coven. Surely his response would have been the same had it been any of them… because Seonghwa loved them all, protected them all just as fiercely.

But it hadn’t been anyone else. It had been him. The weight of it settled upon his very soul.

Seonghwa leaned in, pressing a gentle kiss to Hongjoong’s forehead. “I have always allowed bigots their vitriol and their tirades, but this is not something I cannot abide. I am through with mincing words. They will remember why they fear us or they will not live to forget again.”

“What do you plan to do?” Hongjoong asked, a terrified whisper.

“Remind them.” Seonghwa answered. His dark tone was counterpoint to his gentle touch as he stroked his thumb gingerly along Hongjoong’s cheek, holding his gaze for a long moment.

And then he was gone, letting go of Hongjoong and striding out the door, leaving a frigid void in his wake.

For the first time, Hongjoong wondered if Park Seonghwa really could bring himself to become the monster humans believed him to be.

***

San was with Yunho, Wooyoung and Jongho in the arcade room when Seonghwa entered the doorway, apparently intent on tracking him down. They were in the middle of a game of Mario Party, trying desperately to coordinate with each other as opposed to their usual habit of ruthlessly slaughtering each other in Smash or Soul Calibur.

The cooperating wasn’t going ideally, apparently: they were shouting quite a lot, while Yunho and Jongho tried to calmly make recommendations. In between the challenges, they found something else to bicker about… apparently a point of contention that they had been arguing over for some time.

“I just think that ‘Strip Mario Kart’ is a ridiculous idea.” Jongho rebuffed, scrunching up his nose. “Why do we have to play ‘strip’-anything?”

“Uh, because it’s fun and everyone in this house is hot.” San countered. “We already told you, you can sit out! I understand if you’re afraid of losing—”

“—not afraid of losing—” 

“—and having to be exposed in front of everyone. It’s fine! I get it! No one’s forcing you.” San continued, and from the shit-eating grin on his face, he knew precisely what he was doing by barreling through Jongho’s protests unbothered.

“You’d be lucky to get me to shed a single sock, the way you play.” Jongho said in a dark tone.

“Then what are you so afraid of, hm?” San goaded. “You’ve already seen me naked, tied up and fucked within an inch of my—”

“I think that’s quite enough, San.” Seonghwa spoke from the doorway, cutting him off in a cool tone. “Jongho is clearly uncomfortable with the suggestion, leave it alone.”

San puffed out his cheeks and pouted, deflating. “Okay, sorry.”

“I would actually borrow you for a moment… if I may.” Seonghwa continued, giving a cursory glance at the television. Even with his limited gaming knowledge, he could see they were not in the middle of anything. “It’s a rather pressing matter.”

“Oh. Me? Uh, okay.” San mumbled, halfway between confused and terrified as he got up and trudged out the door.

The others watched him go with a mix of concern and curiosity, trying to keep their whispered theories quiet as they mused about just what Seonghwa needed.

“Do you still have your video equipment?” Seonghwa asked once they were out in the hall, the door closed behind them. “As I recall, you were rather fond of creating… home movies, and the like.”

“Uh… yes, I still have it all. I mean, it’s not the same stuff from the 90’s when I was really into it; I upgraded when memory cards became a thing.” San explained.

“I need your help recording something. A video.” Seonghwa told him.

San raised an eyebrow. “Oh. I mean, just seems weird you’d change your mind, because you always said it would be a detriment for that type of content to exist with you in it, and if I’m being honest, I never woulda pegged Hongjoong as being the type—”

“No, San… I don’t believe we are on the same page.” Seonghwa cut him off. “The video would not be of a sexual nature. I would like to record a public message addressing the Bureau and that terrorist organization, Sunrise.”

San blinked. “Oh. Oh! That makes… infinitely more sense.”

“Ideally, I would like to film as soon as possible, as I’ll need to have someone edit it before I send it to the press for the Friday evening news.” Seonghwa said.

“Wooyoung might be able to help with editing, actually. He’s really good, I’ve seen him playing around with the software for the last couple weeks. Guess he started doing a vlog where he just records us doing mundane shit, it’s kinda cute.” San replied. “When do you wanna record?”

“This evening would be preferred, or tomorrow at the latest.” Seonghwa answered.

San nodded. “Okay. Set up whatever area you wanna use, either your study or the library or wherever, and I’ll try to track down a blank memory card.”

Seonghwa bristled. “San, I doubt that I need to impress to you the importance of the video containing only the video message I am recording.”

San stared for a moment before gasping, offended. “What? No, it’s not… they don’t work like old VHS’s, you don’t have to worry about some other clip bleeding through if you record over it and accidentally skip a section. God, that would be mortifying.”

“Quite right.” Seonghwa murmured. “In any case, that was all I needed from you. Please seek me out when you have what you need, and I will find a suitable location in the meantime. You are welcome to return to your game, and I apologize for interrupting.”

San cocked his head. “Everything okay?”

“Hm?”

“I’ve known you for like, seven decades, Seonghwa… and the only time you apologize for menial stuff is when you’ve just snapped at us or you’re stressed as all hell.” San said, crossing his arms. “This whole Sunrise thing really has you on edge, huh?”

“Naturally. They attempted to assassinate me, and then used Hongjoong in the hopes of furthering their twisted agenda—” Seonghwa cleared his throat. “Yes, I would say so.”

“I guess… you’ve been a constant in my life for over seventy years. I can’t imagine a world without you, so in my mind, you’re untouchable.” San gave a melancholy smile, looking at the floor. “I know that isn’t true, but… I can say one thing. Every person in this house would burn down the whole world before we let anything happen to you, I can promise you that.”

“It isn’t merely my own life I fear for.” Seonghwa murmured.

“Of course not. You should, though.” San told him. “You’re more than just a single vampire, Seonghwa. You’re history. You’re progress. Your legacy is that of vampire rights itself, and I don’t know if that legacy lives on without you. Not in the same way.”

“You make quite the argument to be selfish for selfless reasons.” Seonghwa huffed a wry, mirthless laugh.

“I just want you to be careful.” San corrected, closing the distance between them to pull Seonghwa into a hug. “We love you, and I would never want anything to happen to you because of what that would do to me. But… honestly, a scarier thought is what it would do to the world.”

Seonghwa returned the hug, pressing a kiss to San’s hair.

“You always say you’re just one man, a man who’s lived a hundred lives but none of them amounted to anything more than a hundred others. But that isn’t true at all. You like to humble yourself, but the truth of it is that the world would be a darker place without you in it… for me, and for your coven, yeah, but for all vampires, too.” San nuzzled his head into the other’s chest. “So just, don’t go being so reckless again, okay? You took a lot of precautions, but you still stepped into a minefield by doing that speech. There’s only so much you can guard against the explosions, you know?”

“Right you are.” Seonghwa whispered, kissing his hair again. “I apologize if I worried you, and for dragging you into all of that in the first place. It was careless of me.”

“You did what you felt needed to be done. I can’t fault you for that.” San pulled back, smiling brightly. “It’s a long eternity we’ve got ahead of us, so try to keep the terrorist death-chases to a minimum, yeah?”

Seonghwa laughed as though it were stolen from him. “Right, of course.”

“Now I am gonna go back to my game now, but don’t spend the time brooding.” San told him, smirking. “Find us a nice set for your video. Something classy. Maybe by one of the fireplaces.”

“Of course. That is a novel idea.” Seonghwa agreed, waving him off. “And you can tell the others that eavesdropping is rather rude, but they are forgiven this time.”

At that, there was a loud thump at the door, followed by several hushed voices overlapping.

San snorted, shaking his head before heading back into the arcade room.

***

Park Seonghwa sat in the mansion’s library in a stately leather wingback chair. Next to him, the fireplace was alight, crackling with gentle flames. He was dressed impeccably in a sharp, pitch-black suit with a matching black shirt and black tie. His hair was slicked back nearly in its entirety, only a few stray strands left to fall over his forehead, just above his brow.

“Good evening.” He said to start, his voice low but holding an air of strength that spoke to the importance of his message. “My name is Park Seonghwa, and I am South Korea’s ambassador for the United Nations vampire assembly. I come to you today in the wake of a terrorist attack which took place a week ago against not only myself, but members of my coven—in a public location—which also endangered the lives of dozens of members of the press.”

“The hard-earned truce between humans and vampires is presently being threatened by a terrorist organization known as Sunrise.” Seonghwa continued. “This was beyond merely an attack upon me, personally. This was a call to arms. And yet, the Bureau for Human-Vampire Relations has refused to issue an official statement condemning these zealots and their cause. No legislation has been introduced or even suggested to classify this group as domestic terrorists. This is simply unacceptable.”

“I am a vampire. I am also a citizen of the Republic of Korea. I have fought to defend my country during wars that most of you have only ever read about in history books.” His nose crinkled in something like annoyance, but he quickly schooled his features. “Vampires pay more in taxes than many humans will see in a lifetime, and yet, we are not being represented or protected by the government we pay into. These tithes are meaningless if they do not afford us the same rights as humans. They are not meant to be a penance for perceived sins, or to be the cost for our existence to be tolerated: they are the tariffs we pay—and pay gladly—to be a part of this great country’s society. As such, the Bureau must act, for the sake of all vampires. It is impossible to justify allowing such violence to go unchecked.”

He took a moment’s pause, glancing away toward the fire for a brief second before fixing the camera with a hard stare.

“As their intended target, I would like to speak directly to the members of Sunrise and its leaders, simply to say: you will not prevail. You are not the first, and will certainly not be the last organization to threaten the hard-earned peace between humans and vampires. I would only remind you that I have lived for far longer than anyone you could possibly send after me.” Seonghwa said calmly, lacing his fingers over his knee. “I have outlived the propaganda which marked our fictionalized existence and I suspect I will continue to outlive the bigotry and misinformation campaigns of today. I will live to see the day when human and vampire can coexist in peace and harmony—to see true equality—the question you must ask yourselves is: do you wish to live to see it, too?”

Seonghwa stared silently at the camera for a long moment, his expression saying everything he had not.

“And cut!” San called from behind the camera, throwing a thumbs-up at his sire. “That was great, but, um… vaguely threatening? Was that what you were going for?”

“Precisely my intention.” Seonghwa affirmed, standing and smoothing down his suit. “Can you have it edited and sent to the news circuit before the week is out?”

“Wooyoungie has some video editing software knowledge and has assured me he can help, so yes.” San replied. He looked uneasy, then, however, his lips twisting up into something like a grimace. “You’re really sure this is what you wanna do, though? I mean, it’s not unreasonable, but it’s… a little out of character, for your public persona. You’re kind of the face of pacifistic vampire advocacy. Push it too far and you might lose the moderates.”

“If history teaches us anything, it is that equality is rarely achieved by pacifists.” Seonghwa responded.

“True.” San conceded. “So, then… do you think we’ll only really make progress through war?”

“No, of course not. Perish the thought.” Seonghwa hissed, shaking his head. “Resistance is not war. Revolution is not war… not always. I abhor violence, but if our pleas for justice go unanswered, how can we continue to sit idly by while violence is done unto us all the while? We have no recourse but to respond in kind.”

“They’ll just use that to paint us as the monsters.” San reminded him. “They always have.”

“Bigots will always believe what they do. There are some hearts one cannot change.” Seonghwa said. “But certain rights are inalienable. I have come to realize that while allowing a war would have been unconscionable, making so many concessions with our freedoms was foolish of me. I was too optimistic… to believe that we could somehow earn back these freedoms with good behavior, as though we were prisoners of this society. It is my greatest regret.”

“It wasn’t just you.” San pointed out. “The other vampiric representatives agreed to the same terms you did. Most of them reluctantly, sure, but like you, they knew it had to be done.”

“At the time, we allowed humans to pressure us into these two choices: war or injustice. An impossible choice. We did what we thought was right.” Seonghwa sighed, glancing sidelong toward the far wall. On the highest bookshelf, his Nobel Peace Prize sat free of dust, a victim of his compulsive cleaning habits despite its forgotten position among the old texts and ancient vases. “Now, we must undo it. We must push back against it, or we will languish forever beneath their oppression.”

“You’ve sat on their unfair treatment of vampires for nearly twenty years with almost no pushback… so why now?” San asked. “Because of what the Ancient tried to do? Because of Sunrise?”

Seonghwa shook his head. “Because, not so long ago, I realized that some hearts can be changed, even ones tainted with prejudice and clouded by bigotry.”

San grinned knowingly.

“It gave me hope.” Seonghwa admitted softly. “And though it seems that humanity tries to erode away that hope with every passing day, I cannot help but to cling to it in spite of everything. Perhaps it is simply naive optimism once more, but I felt inspired to work harder toward equality, rather than continuing to accept the way things are.”

“Well, like you said… we have eternity. we’ll all live to see it. If the ignorant want to die in an unjust world, let ‘em.” San replied. “We can build a better one after they’re gone.”

“How right you are, my dear San.” Seonghwa murmured, petting the other’s hair.

Patience was a virtue, but time was an asset which Seonghwa had in abundance… and he would use every bit of his to work toward a better world for his kind.

Notes:

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