Chapter Text
Jin-Woo’s tale was not one for children, despite the hero outlook anyone would gather from it. He had all of the right elements for it – the motive, pure intentions, saving humanity and in the process of it all, sacrificing himself.
It was a little more complicated than that, in each of these aspects (though maybe his intentions were pure, they interlocked with Jin-Woo’s own selfish desire for growth and power, striving to be at the very top so high nothing could reach him, except if he was allowing it). It was full of pain, sorrow and miscalculations – the biggest that he had made himself believe the people he left behind wouldn’t hurt as well, that time for them ran differently, that life between those dimension’s gaps was something completely else.
(It was not – and so it became one of Jin-Woo’s greatest regrets.)
The chat he and Jin-Chul were obligated to hold was full of tears – not happy ones, but tears of frustration, anger and sorrow they caused each other – and broken promises of never leaving again, of being together until the very end, if that end even existed for either of them.
“How … how many years was it for you?”
“Twenty-one.”
“Twenty-one,” Jin-Woo echoed, voice hollow, just like his eyes that usually seemed endless. “For me as well. I thought …”
Jin-Chul ran a soothing, comforting hand along his spine, feeling every bone surrounded by strong muscle and more importantly, mana that seemed to stretch infinitively. The action was calming in itself, full of understating of Jin-Woo’s situation – but like he had done so many times for Jin-Chul, he felt like he needed to ease his worries in any possible was he could.
“I know,” he whispered, his gentle voice like a caress against Jin-Woo’s cheek. “It was hard – but for you, it must have been even harder. To spend that much time in a void where nothing but the shells of what used to be exist. And yet, you fought. You survived. And came back to me. You saved humanity at the price of giving up yourself. That is … not what many could have done.”
Tears glistened on Jin-Woo’s face as he turned around to stare at Jin-Chu’s eyes, some life finally returning back into them. “It took me so long. I was arrogant to think that finishing off the Monarch was a feast that could have been done in less time. I wasn’t strong enough to do anything else but fight. And in the end, it was not me alone who spun time back.”
“Who helped?” Jin-Chul frowned.
“The Rulers. They have something called The Chalice of Rebirth – it was what reset the time to before the Monarchs invaded Earth.”
“And the Monarchs? Were they not revived?”
Jin-Woo shook his head. “Monarch are absolute. They are not ruled by time and have no bounds other than their own strength. That’s why they did not rise again. Time has nothing over them. I suppose they could be revived, but only the Absolute Being is allowed to make such amends.” He shrugged, turning himself in Jin-Chul’s embrace. “That same control over time is what allows me to change my appearance … and makes me immortal.”
It was not the right time – Jin-Chul knew this. But he needed to know, with every fibre in his body, the answer to the question he’s wondered about unknowingly.
“Why did you make me forget? Why didn’t you search for me and return what had been lost to time?”
“The world … it’s so peaceful now.” He turned again to have unrestricted gaze upon Jin-Chul’s eyes. “I didn’t want anyone to think about the past suffering.”
Despite himself, Jin-Chul couldn’t help but glare a little. “But that past no longer exists.”
“Maybe, but the knowledge that it did happen once leaves anyone traumatized.”
Jin-Chul frowned. “It brought me pain, you know. Even though that wasn’t your intention, I felt lost. And I searched and searched for what was missing and failed every single time, not knowing there was something keeping me from finding it.” He glanced to the side, not wanting to look at Jin-Woo’s expression as he mutters, “Did you ever plan to give them back?”
If Jin-Chul had looked, he would have seen the shame radiating from Jin-Woo – because, no, he hadn’t. He wanted to build a life for them from scratch, but that so utterly failed (in the worst possible way – he wished for Jin-Chul’s safety, but caused the opposite). “Not like this.”
For Jin-Chul, it was an answer enough. That day, they hadn’t spoken to each other at work, nor did Jin-Woo show up for dinner, respecting Jin-Chul’s silent demand to leave him alone for a little while. And then they picked themselves up again, just like they always did. This was just another obstacle for them to pass and now that they have, their bond ran deeper than ever before.
∞
“How exactly is this possible?”
Jin-Chul looked around himself in wonder – it’s been quite a while since he last stepped foot inside a Gate, after all. It was like no other he’d seen before, even as a Hunter and when Gates weren’t a rarity but a common nuisance.
“When a Monarch dies, his domain vanishes, creating something akin to black holes,” Jin-Woo explained a minute before they found themselves in here. “But only that. Mana always preserves and it has to go somewhere. We’re lucky only small amounts entered Earth, because if all of it clustered together, Earth in itself would probably become a Red Gate.”
“I’m sorry, ‘we’?” Jin-Chul didn’t hear anything after that.
“Yeah,” Jin-Woo shrugged, like it’s only natural. “You’re helping me clear it.”
At five in the morning. In the middle of Russia. He didn’t even have coffee yet. “We have work in an hour,” Jin-Chul protested weakly, grasping at the last straws. He was already nauseous from Shadow Traveling one way only a second after being brutally woken up from sleep, when his mind didn’t even catch up with what was going on around him. He did not want to go again so soon.
“It won’t take that long,” said Jin-Woo as he looked over his shoulder at Jin-Chul once and then stepped forward, disappearing from sight into the Gate. And with awakened mana thrumming beneath his fingers, Jin-Chul could sense it was a high-ranking one.
“Fuck me,” he cursed under his breath and followed him inside.
And it truly was spectacular. The Gate was shaped like a maze, hundreds of tunnels overflowing with mana crystals leading inside caverns filled to the brim with clear waters. So far, they hadn’t run into any monsters above ground, so they reached the conclusion the monsters were hiding underwater.
Jin-Woo kneeled next to one of the pools and ran a hand over the water, creating small ripples that spread over the surface. And when the last hit the outskirt of it –
A monster jumped out. It didn’t even have the chance to breathe in air once before it was impaled on Jin-Woo’s knife and part of his Shadow army.
Jin-Chul felt a little sick – from various reasons (and he was going to ignore every single one, especially that which surfaced memories he tried so desperately to supress, of knives gliding over his skin and broken whimpers of pain escaping past his lips – funny, how some memories he yearned for and wanted to get rid of the others).
With his improved reflexes, Jin-Chul ducked his head before another monster could slash its claws against his throat. He lashed out a hand donned in leather gloves, wrapped his fingers around the monster’s neck and squeezed. And that really shouldn’t have brought him satisfaction – but Jin-Chul never claimed to be a righteous man, so it did.
“You still have it in you,” Jin-Woo smiled at him around his shoulder, watching him with smouldering intensity.
Jin-Chul huffed, slashing another. “You say that like you’re talking to an old man.”
“You’re almost thirty.”
“Yeah, and you’re around sixty.” When Jin-Woo glared, he added, “Feeling any back pains yet?”
Jin-Woo turned red, because, yes, he was the Shadow Monarch, yes, he was immortal and incomparably powerful, but this morning, he felt a slight pang in his lower back. “Shut up,” he hissed in retaliation, but it was weak in comparison.
Jin-Chul took that as a win – and he needed one, especially after losing in naming his Shadow Technique.
No, really, stop, came through the bond – which Jin-Chul pointedly ignored.
-
The Dungeon Boss had a lot of crystals stored within his body. Jin-Woo’s greedy hands grabbed them before Jin-Chul could move a muscle, eagerly breaking them to see if any would contain a Skill. They did and the happy and self-pleased smile gracing Jin-Woo’s face made it worthwhile to Jin-Chul.
He offered one of the smaller, fragile looking ones to Jin-Chul, who took it in his hands gratefully, but not making a move to break it. “What’s wrong?” Jin-Woo asked him.
A shuddering exhale made it past his lips – an action that seemed more and more common in Jin-Chul. “I don’t know … if I want another reason to remind myself of what I’ve lost.”
Jin-Woo’s expression darkened for a fraction, not at Jin-Chul, but at the implication of those words. “You weren’t a normal human before this, either. An exceptional A-rank Hunter, actually,” Jin-Woo reminded him softly, but didn’t force him any further. He took the crystal back and pocketed it – it was not going to waste and if it wasn’t going to be used for what it was meant for, Jin-Woo already found something else to do with it, since the stone was breathtakingly beautiful and unique, vivid shades of blue mixing together to create a painting none possessed the imagination to draw.
The only problem was whether Jin-Chul would accept it. But he had more than enough time before trying anything rash – and the moment he would agree, Jin-Woo will savour the memory made.
∞
Three weeks later found them standing in front of the apartment complex the Sung family resided in, although Jin-Woo spent more time over at Jin-Chul’s than his own home, latching onto him like a leech and refusing to bug.
But, who was he kidding, really? Jin-Chul didn’t mind it at all. Not with the growing affection spreading inside his body, steadily climbing into new heights every morning as he awoke in the other’s safe and secure embrace. So, if anything, by this point, he was only fooling himself.
As they climbed the stairs (since the elevator broke down again), Jin-Chul couldn’t help but ask, “What are you introducing me as, anyway?”
Jin-Woo stopped in his tracks, eyes sparkling with pure happiness, to give all of his attention to Jin-Chul. “Are you suggesting there is another option beside a friend?”
“I – I didn’t,” Jin-Chul spluttered, cheeks reddening rapidly. Damn, he really can’t lose it now, when he’s meeting his probably soon-to-be boyfriend’s family. Not for the first time – but they don’t remember that like he does.
The black-haired man chuckled earnestly, “Whatever I tell them, they’ll assume something else entirely, so I don’t think you have to worry about anything.” He batted his eyelashes, “Unless there is something specific you want me to say.”
“You’re right,” Jin-Chul growled, pushing past Jin-Woo to hide his embarrassment. “Your sister probably already has me labelled as the boyfriend anyway, so I don’t particularly think there’s a reason to correct her.”
With his back turned to him, he didn’t see the cunning smile curling itself onto Jin-Woo’s lips.
“Fair warning,” Jin-Woo said as they stopped before the door. “I hope you’re ready to deal with Jin-Ho’s energetic ass, because he’s also here for dinner.”
“Yoo Jin-Ho?” Jin-Chul asked, one eyebrow perfectly raised. “I can’t believe you managed to snag him in this timeline as well. Does he call you hyung, like he did before?”
Jin-Woo let out an exasperated sigh, but there was deep fondness to it. “Even more so.”
“Why?”
“He’s dating Jin-Ah.”
Jin-Woo didn’t give him any time to recover from this revelation as he knocked and the door opened within a second. Jin-Ah’s face peeked out, her eyes filled with burning, extremely serious intent – like she was on a mission – before landing on Jin-Chul and –
She squealed in delight, turning back into the apartment and shouted, “Jin-Woo’s better half is here! And he’s handsome!”
Well, there was nothing else to be expected.
-
The small dining table was completely packed – there was no room left whatsoever and two extra chairs had to be brought in so all of them had a place to sit down.
It didn’t take long for Jin-Chul to witness first-hand, again, how absolutely chaotic the Sung family is – from the bickering siblings, who paid no mind to Jin-Ho’s rapid talking (so Jin-Chul had to suffer through it instead – not that he had anything against him, he just didn’t have enough energy within his soul left to do so), Park Kyung-Hye, who was already treating him like a son, like he belonged, and lastly, Sung Il-Hwan, the notorious firefighter. He was the one Jin-Chul never before had the chance to meet, and, quite honestly, despite the mana thrumming in his veins, he felt any courage he had before wilt away under his intense gaze.
(So that is who Jin-Woo got it from.)
And despite his intimidating appearance, long luscious dark hair and bulging muscles, it was soon clear to Jin-Chul that he was the biggest softie in the house (with Jin-Woo’s mother as the unforgiving dictator – she didn’t let Jin-Chul take any shit from her husband).
“Jin-Woo mentioned you are the Chief of the department?” Il-Hwan asked him.
“Yes-“
Jin-Chul stopped talking to stare as Kyung-Hye slapped the back of her husband’s head. “Lay off him, already. This isn’t an interrogation.”
“But!” Il-Hwan whined, like some over-grown child. “How else am I supposed to know he’s right for our son?”
Kyung-Hye rolled her eyes. “Let me demonstrate, honey, and remember it well.” Then she turned towards Jin-Chul, with a bright, motherly smile upon her lips. A genuine one. “Will you take care of our Jin-Woo?”
Jin-Chul felt like he was slapped because this was even blunter that any question he’d gotten from Jin-Woo’s other parental figure. Honestly – this family was a personification of ‘straight to the point’. “… Of course,” he replied, hoping his tone was serious enough for them to see this was no lie, no hidden meaning.
“Mom,” Jin-Woo warned from where he sat opposite to Jin-Chul. “You stop too.”
“No, no,” Jin-Ho shook his head dramatically. “This is only right. We need to make sure he is good enough to date hyung!” Jin-Ah nodded alongside to her boyfriend’s words eagerly, which earned an utter expression of disbelief and betrayal on Jin-Woo’s face.
“If you’re going to patronize him, he’ll leave!” he groaned.
Four pairs of eyes stared holes into Jin-Chul’s face, awaiting a reply to that statement. Jin-Chul felt himself break a sweat – just a little. “I … care about Jin-Woo enough to stay by his side,” he murmured, but the implication was clear. “Even if you nag me about it or try to make me leave. I knew what I was getting myself into and I’m not planning on backing out.”
Jin-Chul paled for a shade – he really should have worded that kinder, somehow.
They stared at him for a second, then a second more – and turned back to their food, chatting among themselves. Jin-Chul finally relaxed his tense shoulders and couldn’t help but feel a sense of pride for passing whatever test they just put him under.
-
“So,” Jin-Woo whispered a millimetre from Jin-Chul’s lips as they returned home, “about that boyfriend thing.”
“Yeah?” Jin-Chul couldn’t help but smile, leaning in just slightly, but still not bridging the gap between them.
“Everyone seems to think we’re a couple, so,” he replied, a little closer than before, “why not make it official?”
And he left it to Jin-Chul, to make that final step in their relationship, leaving him to take a leap of faith, knowing he’ll land softly because faith in Jin-Woo was all he had. All he had ever known.
It was then, that he realised – this is what he’d been looking for relentlessly, this was the demon haunting his mind, because knowing that something like this could exist between them, but was missing still –
It knocked the breath out of him. He will finally stop being alone.
“I’d say let’s not give them a reason to lie.”
Jin-Woo’s grin, showing all of his pointed teeth ready to bite down, was between Jin-Chul’s lips the next second and really, it was like the world around them stopped.
Maybe it did – who knows what Jin-Woo is capable of. Jin-Chul certainly didn’t care, not when his own world was returning the kiss.
∞
The years – turning from a decade to a hundred more – passed so quickly one might blink and miss them completely. But to them, it didn’t matter. Not as long as they had each other, not as long as Jin-Woo and Jin-Chul, two lost souls that found peace in one another, spend them together, grow old and then young again, tracing their footsteps back and forth in a game with no end, where no winners and losers decide on the outcome.
Just them – and as long as it stayed that way, with Jin-Woo hugging him from behind and admiring the azure crystal shining in the middle of the ring wrapped around Jin-Chul’s finger, sharing kisses here and there, nothing else really seemed of importance. After all –
They had their forever.