the third path [3/4]

[hojichadust]

one | two | three

“Remind me again,” Kyungsoo said, drawing his cloak closer around himself, “how you know this Wendy girl?”

“She and Joonmyun were sweethearts for a time, a couple of years ago. She came round once for Christmas dinner.” Jongin glanced sideways at Kyungsoo, not for the first time. The weather was temperate but Kyungsoo had his hood up, as was his habit, and it drew a bit of attention to himself. Kyungsoo pointedly did not acknowledge his glances.

“I see. Is it safe to ask if her time with Joonmyun overlapped with the entrance of a certain other lady?”

“It didn’t, thankfully. I doubt she would have received us so warmly otherwise.”

The sun was just beginning to set, casting sharp golden rays onset with orange and shadows twice Kyungsoo’s height. The merchants and shopkeepers had already packed up for the day. Most of the crowds had retreated to their homes or the closest tavern, which rang with rambunctious shouting and off-key singing as they passed their open windows. It was not an optimal time for Kyungsoo to be seen out and about. He felt exposed without the cover of people swarming him from all sides. He walked with impatient and hurried steps, forcing Jongin to scamper alongside in order to match his pace, although he uttered no complaints.

Wendy stood about thirty feet from the university gates, holding a small parcel by its twine bindings and pretending to take interest in a flower cart. She seemed to spot them approaching, but did not acknowledge them right away. Instead she dug into her pocket and dropped two silver pieces into the flower girl’s fingerless gloved-hand. The child gave her a toothy smile and presented her with four carnations, which Wendy took graciously. She even offered her a little bow before walking away.

As they drew close, Wendy held out the bouquet. “For you, most gracious lord,” she said, completely straight-faced, “whose beauty even in memory shines more true and delicate than the most honest blooms.”

Jongin snorted. “Not bad for a classics student. Did you use that line with Joonmyun, too?” he said, taking the flowers. They were white with pink-stained tips, and slightly fragrant.

“Joonmyun never had a good stomach for poetry. My magnificent prose would have been wasted on him.” Wendy turned to look at Kyungsoo, and her eyebrows lifted slightly. “Well, well, you certainly clean up very becomingly.”

Kyungsoo did not miss the intent behind the earnest compliment. He smiled. “Good. This monstrosity should have some use before I burn it later tonight.”

“Let’s go in quickly,” Jongin grumbled, suddenly with a sour look on his face. Kyungsoo wasn’t sure what it was for, but he decided not to press the issue.

The guards reflexively stepped up from their posts at their approach, but when they saw who was in the lead, their faces softened with endearment. “Evening, Wendy. Certainly are out later than’s probably safe, y’know.”

“Oh, you know I’m more careful than that. These are my friends, visiting from the northern coast. I was hoping I could take them around for a tour of the grounds.”

“‘Course, miss, although if it’s no offense to ye it’d be a load off our shoulders if your companion would draw his hood back for us.”

Kyungsoo took pause, his heartbeat picking up pace minutely. He obediently lowered his hood and straightened his back, hands folded behind himself with his most demure smile. “Gentlemen,” he said.

For the briefest of moments the guards examined his face, but nothing came of it. They merely nodded once before turning back to Wendy. “Thank ye, miss. Just have ‘em sign in the visitor’s book before they go.”

Kyungsoo relaxed, shoulders slackening. Jongin signed in first, scribbling his signature with practiced ease; as far as he was concerned, no one looking for him had placed his face with the name of his household yet, so he had no need of an alias. Kyungsoo hesitated, a pause carefully hidden in the act of taking the quill from Jongin’s hand, before he signed Do Seungsoo beneath the lord’s name.

“Alright, yer all set. No stowing ‘em away in your rooms fer the night, now.”

“I’m appalled you would think myself capable,” Wendy said, feigning offense, but there was a glimmer of mirth in her eyes. Like that, the three of them stepped through the gates. Without acknowledging one another a collected motion of relief settled among them.

“They certainly like you,” Kyungsoo murmured, as they walked briskly through the campus grounds.

“Oh, don’t let that fool you. They’ll act like that to any student here with a pair of tits. I’m sure they only started to remember my name a week ago.”

They found Joonmyun’s dormitory quickly, making their way in through the side entrance and lightening their footsteps as they climbed the stairs to his floor.

“He should be in the same room,” Wendy said. She moved with certainty, retracing the path to Joonmyun’s quarters without much trouble.

Kyungsoo wasn’t the only one who noticed. “You have a good memory,” Jongin said, haltingly.

“Please, spare me the veiled accusations. I told you, we still kept close contact after his engagement. But it was clear where his affections lay, and I definitely didn’t have any interest in causing drama. Besides, he had to be reminded to clip his toenails. I prefer a man with a little more attention to personal grooming.”

Jongin coughed with embarrassment and looked away. Kyungsoo stifled a laugh, not very successfully.

“Here.” Wendy turned suddenly and faced one of the doors, reaching out to try the handle. “Well, I’m sorry to say we weren’t close enough for him to give me a spare key.”

“Give me a moment,” Kyungsoo said, stepping forward.

The others looked at him in surprise. Wendy stepped aside, and Kyungsoo knelt in front of the door, producing a thin blade and pick from one of his pockets. It didn’t take long to work it open; it was clear they’d been installed for the sake of show rather than privacy, the people installing them assured that any suspicious types would have been stopped long before they got to the dormitories anyway. He only broke one pick before he succeeded in hearing the tell-tale click. He removed his instruments, trying the knob again and watching with satisfaction as it swung open.

When he stood up, Jongin and Wendy were staring at him.

“Picked up that little trick so I could get past chastity belts,” Kyungsoo said. Jongin paled, a look of scandalized horror coming over him, before Kyungsoo grinned. “I’m kidding.”

Wendy pressed her lips together, the corners of her mouth turned upwards. “Well, door’s open, boys. Don’t know what you’re looking for, so I’ll take your lead on this one.”

The two men sobered up, remembering what they had come here for in the first place. Jongin chewed briefly on his lower lip before he was the first to step inside.

At first glance, there was nothing incriminating about the place. It simply looked like an overworked and untidy student’s bedroom. Tomes, textbooks and papers littered every available surface, even crowding the foot of the bed, next to the bunched-up sheets. Then, at second glance, it was clear that some things were off. The doors of the wardrobe pushed against the far wall were open, mostly empty, save for a few items of clothing strewn at the bottom and on the floor around it. He’d packed his things and left in a hurry. His windows were open, thin drapes dancing lightly in the breeze that wafted in, causing for some of the loose papers to have drifted to the floor; what had survived the wind had their ink become water-logged from past rainfalls. His drawers looked hastily rummaged through, a number of personal belongings left behind. Whatever had driven him to leave, he hadn’t wanted to waste any time.

Kyungsoo moved to close the windows first, so that he wouldn’t have to chase the papers across the floors. He picked one up at random. “‘Wyverns and Webbed Wings, a dissertation on the lineage of the common drakontos Viverna and its successive traits throughout generations.’ I didn’t realize your cousin was a draconologist.”

“He wasn’t. He took it as an elective.” Jongin rummaged through the papers at the foot of the bed distractedly. “This…this isn’t research related to his thesis.”

Kyungsoo went over to look. He slipped one of the papers from Jongin’s hand carefully. “‘The villagers are frightened,’” he read aloud, “‘won’t open their doors anymore, can barely leave their homes without their knees buckling, crossing themselves a thousand times over. Such potent fear I have never seen. It took me days before they were convinced I wasn’t some devil in disguise, for the devil, it seemed, had recently arrived on their doorstep’. What the hell?”

“‘I met recently with Valentin,’” Jongin said, reading something else entirely. “'Anger pulsed through his every muscle. He told me his sister is with child, wooed by an unknown man whom he suspects walks with a demon. He informed me of his intention to condemn them both and challenge this intruder to battle. I thought not much of it, figured his mind had loosened with ale…’ There’s more of these…witness accounts, but never with the same people, never written by the same hand…”

Kyungsoo looked around, picked up a book from Joonmyun’s nightstand. “These are library books,” he said, inspecting them. “All of them. Folk legends, collections of children’s fables, volumes on mythology from around the world.” He opened up the front cover. “These were checked out about a month ago.”

“Let me see that.” Jongin leaned over Kyungsoo’s shoulder, his chest brushing the swordsman’s arm as he reached over to flip to the index. “Gods. Look at this. ‘A history of deaths and burials among crossroads.’ ‘The ritual of summoning through invocation.’ Even this one, here-necromancy, occultism-”

“He’s got an entire manuscript here on djinns,” Kyungsoo said slowly, taking up another scroll. “And-”

He stopped, before reaching out and snatching a familiar sheepskin tome stained over with blue ink. “I’ve read this,” Kyungsoo said, a cold, unsettling chill sweeping over his body. “I know this story. I-my father, he read me this once as a bedtime story. A man who-who sold his soul to the devil in order to master the art of singing and playing the lute, better than any other bard before him.”

Jongin looked at him. “What does this mean?”

“What does this mean?” Kyungsoo said sharply, tense with agitation. “It means your cousin was after something far less human and far more deadly for his help. This-this is supposed to be a story, dammit. A work of fiction, a legend that some wayward old man tells during festivals to entertain children. But your cousin was researching this, researching all of this. He was looking for a way to make a pact with a demon. As if there were truth to it.”

“Is there?”

The question hung in the air, the silence that followed unnatural, still as stone. Kyungsoo looked into Jongin’s eyes in that moment and saw fear in them, as real and suffocating as the monsters that hide under beds and terrorize the imagination.

“You believe it,” Jongin said. His voice was not filled with astonishment, or an accusation. Kyungsoo wondered, then, what Jongin could see in his eyes.

“Boys,” Wendy called softly.

They turned. Wendy was standing near the desk, a leather-bound journal in her hands. “You might want to read this,” she said, without looking up. Her face was troubled.

They both drew close. Wendy began to read without any prompting.

“‘I’ve finally tracked her down, right here, in this very city. After all of the dead ends, chasing even the most obscure incidents to delirium-inducing circles, I had half a mind to wonder if she herself was a myth, or, worse, a person who existed, but was no longer of this world. But I asked around the neighbourhood, placed a letter beneath her door. I don’t know if she’ll show. If accounts are correct she very well may be too afraid to meet with a perfect stranger. But she is the closest chance I have. And if the letter cannot compel her to meet me, then I might have a shot at confronting her in The Limping Lady. Her neighbours tell me it is the only place she frequents. I suppose after all the horrors she’s faced, memory does not serve her kindly unless softened by drink.’”

“A survivor,” Kyungsoo said, realization hitting him. “A living case. Someone who’s been rumoured to force the pact and survive. It must be. Does it-”

“Johanna Christa Sophia Haizmann. A dishonoured noble, from the sounds of it. No ordinary townswoman would need that many names. Says here she’s a painter. There’s an address, but…”

“If Joonmyun already got to her through a letter at her doorstep, I doubt the same trick will work twice. I suggest we try the tavern first, ask the barkeep if she’s been around. They’ve got eyes and ears for everything, if you bribe them enough.”

“Then I can’t stand to wait a moment longer,” Jongin said. “She may have been the last person to speak to Joonmyun before everything happened. The Limping Lady should be open now. I want to find her before she leaves the place. We should get going.”

Kyungsoo put his handful of papers down, not seeing any reason to dally either, but Wendy didn’t move.

“Kyungsoo, a word, if you have a moment,” she said, looking up. “Jongin, if you please.”

Jongin was already halfway out the door, but he stopped mid-step, eyes darting between Kyungsoo and Wendy. Kyungsoo stared at Wendy for a time, before motioning Jongin outside with a short nod. The lord’s face darkened, and he grabbed the doorknob before slamming it shut behind him.

Kyungsoo turned. “Alright,” he said, voice quiet. “Tell me what it is.”

“Two things, the simpler of them first,” Wendy said. “I’d like to come with you to find this woman.”

Kyungsoo said nothing. Wendy seemed to have not expected this. “No objections?”

“No,” Kyungsoo said slowly, “but that’s something that could have been discussed with Jongin still in the room. There was no need to send him away. So I’m curious as to why you did.”

Wendy smiled wryly. “I can see you’ve managed to fool Jongin with that simple swordsman ruse of yours. I’m not embarrassed to say that I’m a little sharper than he is. You’re much more than you pretend to be. I noticed it first when you greeted the guards. You were used to it, that much is clear. They were probably a mere two in thousands that have crossed your path, and not because you’d done something. You also carry yourself in that expensive doublet very well. Any other peasant would have started to complain by now of the fabric chafing their armpits. But you know better. You’ve done this before.”

For a long time Kyungsoo was silent. “You’re incredibly bright,” he murmured finally. “Far too bright to have been in the company of that fool Joonmyun, that’s for certain.”

“Sounds like you know someone who would be a better fit for me.”

This time it was Kyungsoo who smiled faintly. “I’m honoured. Truly. But I doubt you’ll have anything to gain by bedding a not-so-simple swordsman like me.”

“Should bedding anyone only be for some long-term gain, then?” Wendy shrugged. “Believe me, my childhood days are past me. I’m not looking for a prince or a mysterious stranger to whisk me off to more exciting things. I’ve got finals in a week, I’m too busy for that. After this you can be on your way, getting that poor boy far too in over his head.”

“Don’t. That isn’t fair. I never wanted...” For a moment Kyungsoo’s face slipped, an unrecognizable pain sitting beneath the surface of his carefully empty expression. Then he came to himself, and the look on his face was apologetic.

“In a different life and under different circumstances, I would. But you’re right about me. I’m not all that I claim to be. And I’ve already managed to betray one person because of it. So I want to be honest with you. You’ve probably already noticed that Joonmyun was not looking into...strictly safe means. And I would fear for your safety should you pursue this any further with us. Let me escort you back to your dormitory. Go home, go to sleep, pretend you never saw us. It would be a greater kindness to me than you can imagine.”

Wendy exhaled slowly through her nose. She didn’t look like she was going to argue anymore, though, so Kyungsoo stood still and didn’t say anything, not wanting to tip the scales and ruin this resignation.

“Keep in mind,” Wendy said, “that the well-being that you wish of others should not necessarily exempt yourself. Nor should you ever come to think that others wouldn’t wish the same for you. Just a little something to mull over while you’re out chasing some greater evil with Jongin.”

Before Kyungsoo could ask what she meant by that, Wendy placed a hand on his shoulder and, just as she’d done with Jongin, stretched up and gave him a peck on the cheek. Her lips were soft, the scent of lavender washing over him.

“Under different circumstances, but there’s no need to wait for a different life,” Wendy said. “If you should ever stop by Londerrtain again, you’re always welcome.”

Kyungsoo softened. “I appreciate that.”

Jongin was waiting outside by the entrance already when Kyungsoo finally emerged alone. His arms were crossed, his back leaning to the wall. He looked at Kyungsoo, and the latter was slightly taken aback to find that Jongin almost seemed…angry.

“Wendy’s not with you?” Jongin said tersely.

“No,” Kyungsoo said, staring curiously at him.

Jongin unfolded his arms and turned away. “Let’s go, then.”

Kyungsoo followed him silently. Jongin’s expression was not a good one. The lines of his face were hardened, his eyebrows pinched together and his eyes dark with brooding displeasure. Kyungsoo can’t ever recall seeing Jongin this irate before.

“Is everything alright?” he asked.

Jongin’s scowl only seemed to deepen. “Fine. Everything’s delightful.”

Kyungsoo hesitated. “If I’ve done something to upset you…”

“There’s nothing to be upset over,” Jongin said, his voice clipped, but something in his eyes flickered and he turned his face away abruptly. For a long moment there was silence, and then he heaved a weary sigh.

“I’m sorry,” he said, his tone less callous, but still tight around the edges. “I’m. I’m acting irrationally. I shouldn’t be angry with you.”

“Jongin,” Kyungsoo said. “It’s possible that I have done something to anger you. Even if unintentionally.” His own level-headedness surprised him. Just two days ago this conversation would have irritated him into an equally foul mood.

“I convinced Wendy to go home and forget everything, if that’s what you’re worried about,” he said.

Jongin looked at him after a short pause. His expression was blank. “She…that’s what it was? She was trying to convince you to let her come along?”

Kyungsoo nodded. “I told her no, of course. The things in your cousin’s room…” He trailed off. “I doubt letting her tag along would bring her any good.”

“Yes,” Jongin said. He took a thin breath. “I’m sorry.”

Kyungsoo placed a hand on Jongin’s back amicably, to show that it was fine. The lord seemed to relax visibly beneath the touch, a tiny smile even coming over his lips.

“I’m glad that’s sorted out,” Kyungsoo said. He looked at Jongin’s face, suddenly remembering Wendy’s words.

You’re much more than you pretend to be.

A crippling wave of remorse swelled up inside of him. Kyungsoo swallowed fiercely, before it could choke him.

“I’m glad,” he repeated.

The Limping Lady was packed. With spirits as high as they were, it was as if some of the more well-to-do townsfolk had splurged on a grand wedding party and invited everyone to the celebration. Every chair and stool was filled, tankards of beer and platters piled high with cheese, nuts, haggis and roast mutton littering the tables. Men hollered from every corner for more food and drink. The bar maids balanced impressively large trays as they hurried this way and that, some of them purposely swishing their skirts as they went along. A full band was playing in the corner, with a young male bard leading the group, belting out the notes as if he had pressurized pipes instead of lungs in his ribcage. The place was well-lit, fragrant with the smell of garlic, meat and wine. On the wall over the bar, a great boar’s head loomed out over the festivities, its mighty tusks large enough to serve as casks of their own, if one of the patrons were to take notice and drunkenly decide to try their luck at breaking one off.

Inside the tavern Kyungsoo relaxed. On a night as busy as this they were less likely to draw much attention to themselves. He slipped his way between stumbling townsmen and ducked the waitresses’ platters with ease. He made it to the bar with Jongin still struggling halfway behind him, trying to politely skirt around everyone instead.

“Two shots of vodka,” Kyungsoo said. The man behind the bar-a hulking bear of a man, with a thick beard black as night and as unruly as a tempest-nodded and brought out two glasses, filled it with the clear, oily liquid. Kyungsoo promptly shoved one into Jongin’s hands as the other finally broke free of the crowd and reached the bar, near sweating from the exertion.

“How acquainted would you say you are with your regulars?” Kyungsoo said, while Jongin sniffed his drink cautiously behind him.

“Whose business is it how good I get on with my regulars?” the man asked gruffly.

“Nobody’s. Certainly not mine. I’m just a fan, you see.” Kyungsoo smiled pleasantly. “I’d heard Johanna Haizmann frequented this establishment. I was hoping I’d get to see her in person.”

The bartender’s face darkened. “You’d best leave that poor girl alone,” he said. A warning. “She’s been through enough as it is.”

“I’m afraid I don’t follow.”

“You don’t follow? And you’re her fan, you say? You better piss off before I chase you out of here with my cleaver.”

“Sir,” Jongin cut in then. “Forgive us, we didn’t realize Lady Haizmann wasn’t receiving fans. We’re not here to bother her for a painting or an autograph, if that’s your concern. We simply wanted to voice our admiration for her work. She’s quite the skilled artist. I can see you share the sentiment. That’s Vaterunser on your wall there, is it not?”

The bartender followed Jongin’s gaze, as did Kyungsoo. Sure enough, there was a large triptych painting on the wall, nearly touching the floor and ceiling in equal measure. Kyungsoo was stunned to realize that he knew this painting. It depicted a man signing a pact with a well-dressed burgher: with ink in the left panel, with blood on the right. In its center, four disciples kneel before The Virgin Mary as she performs an exorcism. Kyungsoo hadn’t even noticed it when they came in.

“If you would be so kind as to relay the message for us,” Jongin said, “we shan’t disturb her, if that’s what you think is best.”

“Hang on.” The man sighed, his moustache fluttering a bit with the great exhale. “Two minutes. If I come in in two minutes and she look like she won’t have none of it, I’ll boot you out on your arses.”

Jongin smiled, a dazzling, flattering lord’s smile. “Thank you. Is she…?”

“In the other room, there.” The bartender inclined his head. “Always takes her stew in the corner. Poor thing always seems to be down in the dumps. Little admiration might do to lift her spirits a bit.”

Jongin bowed and repeated several more thanks, and Kyungsoo did his best to echo likewise. He raised a subtle eyebrow at Jongin when they were out of earshot. “Nicely done.”

Jongin blushed. “Thank you.”

There was another room to the back, this one not filled with as many patrons-the party was clearly outside, so whoever was here was more interested in conversation, glasses still half-full as they listened seriously to the reports of recent politics or made educated guesses about the year’s crop.

To the back, just as the barkeep described, was a lone woman, her bowl of food untouched as she scribbled on a piece of paper. She had a heavy garnet clock on, with the hood covering her head, and beneath that Kyungsoo could see she had wound the bottom half of her face with a patterned satin scarf. She was concentrated, deep in her own world, unperturbed by the other patrons or the great clamour in the next room.

Kyungsoo approached, trying to appear as unassuming as possible. “Johanna Haizmann?”

The woman looked up. Striking blue eyes stared piercingly up at him from beneath her hood, and like this Kyungsoo could see the flesh just below her lower lids was shiny, red and tender, as if a wound had just healed over. He recognized the look in the woman’s eyes, even with most of her face covered. It was the expression of one unspeakably and endlessly tortured.

“I don’t know you,” Johanna said, her ringing voice cold and hard like a blade.

“No, you don’t.” Kyungsoo felt the need to speak gently, as if conversing with a cornered animal. “I’m called Kyungsoo of Brodich. This is my companion, Jongin of the noble house Kim.” Then, after a moment of deliberation, he dropped all pretence and said, “A close friend of ours has gone missing. We believe he came to see you shortly before this happened.”

The woman’s eyes narrowed at once. “I knew I’d heard that name,” she said, almost under her breath. “You’re with that boy Joonmyun, aren’t you?”

Jongin leaned forward minutely, the name starting a reaction from him. Johanna noticed. “Of course you are. Well, first things first, your missing friend is probably dead. I warned him, endlessly. I told him everything, hoping it would scare him off. But he was headstrong, stubborn, the damn fool.”

“So you know what happened to him?” Jongin interjected, unable to contain himself.

The woman looked at him shrewdly. “You really think I’m just going to spill my guts in a place like this? Don’t be stupid. I can see you’re not here to goad me, so I’ll answer your questions. But not here. This calls for greater privacy.”

“Johanna?” The barkeep was looking in, his gaze subtly threatening. “Are these men bothering you?”

“No. We need to borrow your storeroom. I need a private word with them.”

Apparently the barkeep was more familiar with Johanna than he’d originally made it seem. He nodded without question. “S’all yours.”

“Thank you.” Johanna got up. Despite the lengths she’d gone to hide her appearance, she stood tall with her chin raised defiantly. Her body radiated hostility, in palpable, scalding waves. She must have endured long years ridicule and shame, Kyungsoo realized. Some of the men stared as she walked past, not without recognition. Whatever her story may have been, it was no stranger to these people.

She led them to the storeroom, with its big sign on the front reading Keep Out!! Management Only!!. She lit one of the candles as Kyungsoo closed the door behind them. The room was filled with crates and barrels, meat and bushels of herbs hung to dry on the racks along the walls.

Johanna faced them, her face barely visible now with her back to the candlelight. Like this, she had the visage of an ominous reaper, her cold steel voice carrying endless bitterness and misery.

“I’m going to start by telling you the same thing I first told that boy,” Johanna said. “Don’t look into this. Don’t go chasing after it. This thing delights in the carelessness of desperate folk, takes advantage of it, turns it on its head for its own amusement.”

“Hold on,” Kyungsoo interrupted, before she could go any further. “It?”

“Yes. It. Him. The Devil himself.”

Jongin tensed next to Kyungsoo, his body rigid with dismay. It took a lot for Kyungsoo to keep his voice steady.

“How do you know?” he said finally.

Johanna laughed, a sharp, grating sound. “He’s everywhere. He is everyone and no one. He takes on different shapes, different disguises. Your friend Joonmyun had enough sense left to catch on to that, at least. All those stories you hear about demons making pacts with humans, everyone believes they’re all different. They aren’t. They’re the same one. They’ve always been the same one. Roaming the earth for thousands of years, with earliest records dating to the very beginning of civilization. This thing is timeless, and it is pure evil.”

“But how could anyone possibly know that for sure?”

“He told me,” Johanna said, a deep, uncontrollable seizing of the muscles coming over her body at the very memory. “Said so himself. I believed him. After what he did to me, I’d have to be dumber than a skate fish not to believe him.”

Neither Kyungsoo nor Jongin spoke now, sensing the explanation was coming, that this was not something that could be pushed or hurried. Johanna took several minutes to collect herself, her face turned away and towards the ground. She wrung her trembling hands in front of her.

“I was born to a noble family. The eldest of two children. There was me, and my younger sister, Evelyn. I was…never close to her.

“A young lord lived in the neighbouring town, heir to a large vineyard. There were odd rumours that circulated around him, rumours that talked of him disappearing sometimes at night, of him going out hunting alone without a weapon and returning, all bloodied, but without a wound. Or without any game, for that matter. Still, Evelyn fell instantly for him, and Hendrik for her.

“But I knew. I wasn’t a fool like my sister. I understood the signs when I saw them. To see if they were true I snuck out one night while his lordship was visiting and spotted Hendrik going into the woods. I followed him. He went without a hunting party and without a weapon, as the rumours said. And as he went I hid among the trees and I watched him, and I saw.

“I saw him turn into a werewolf.

“I was enraged. You see…I, too, loved Hendrik. And what I saw him for what he truly was, I didn’t care. It didn’t matter to me that that was his curse, his true nature. I loved him all the same. And yet it was Evelyn, sweet, lovely Evelyn, who was engaged to be married to him, and she didn’t even know. To me it seemed wholly cruel and unfair.”

Here Johanna paused. Kyungsoo saw another tremble come over her, as if her very words could summon the fears that haunt her day and night.

“He came to me,” Johanna said, voice wavering now, “on the night before the full moon. He appeared to me as a tall man with fiery red hair, and yellow-green eyes that glowed unnaturally, as if there was some strange energy burning behind them. He told me that he’d witnessed my suffering, that he’d be willing to propose an exchange so that I may have a single desire granted. And then I was the foolish sister. I agreed. When he asked what I wished for, I said to him, ‘I wish for Evelyn’s engagement to dissolve, and for Hendrik to see me, my feelings, for who I truly am.’”

As she repeated the words, they were filled with such anguish that Kyungsoo himself felt it, deep in the pit of his gut, like a rusty blade.

“He agreed. Said the time of my payment would come soon enough, that I need not worry. I didn’t understand then. I only understood that my deepest and fiercest desires were about to come true. I hurried home, overcome with joy. I kissed my sister on both cheeks when I saw her. I was so, so happy.”

The candle little but a stub now, the flame flickering weakly as it began to graze against the melted wax at the bottom. Johanna reached over and picked up the stub, used it to light a few other candles before blowing it out. It was during this interval that Kyungsoo realized he was holding his breath.

“My sister was missing from her bed two days later,” Johanna said, her voice flat, empty. “The search took hours. Even the villagers lent a hand. Eventually we found her, in three pieces, not far from a deer carcass. She was…she’d been torn apart, viciously.

“It was then I remembered. She’d spoken to me the day before of some kind of bloom in the woods which only opened its buds to the moonlight. The night before had been the full moon. I knew, then, although I didn’t want to believe it. There was no running from it. She’d probably encountered Hendrik while he was…feeding. Attacked and killed in a blind, senseless bloodthirst.

“I was wracked with guilt. I hadn’t wanted her to die! I only wanted her to find out what he was, for her to grow frightened and call off the engagement! Worst of all, Hendrik hadn’t a clue what he’d done. It seemed he didn’t retain memories of himself when he turned. The load was too much to bear. A month after Evelyn’s funeral I pulled him aside, tried to explain what had happened. I wanted forgiveness. I wanted to be relieved of my sins.

“Hendrik was furious. I begged with him, tried to tell him that I only did it out of love, love for him even while knowing what he truly was. But he wouldn’t hear of it.”

At that moment, Johanna fell silent. She reached up and drew her hood back from her head, then, with slow movements, she undid the scarf around her face and pulled it away. Kyungsoo’s breath caught in his throat, paralyzed. Beside him Jongin let out a horrified cry.

Her face was horribly disfigured. Deep, swollen claw marks dig into the skin of cheeks and neck, the same shiny, tender quality to them that Kyungsoo had spotted earlier on her face. Two of them dug across her scalp, on the left side of her head, so that her thin, black hair only grew out in uneven tufts on the right side. Half of her nose was gone, as was part of her top lip.

Johanna’s blue eyes shone wildly out from the marred flesh that was once her face. “I made a fatal mistake,” she said. “I believed the legends. I thought werewolves only turned on the night of the full moon, against their will. But Hendrik transformed, right then and there, in the middle of the day. He attacked me. Left me choking on my own blood, and he disappeared. No one has seen nor heard of him since. My mother found me, and by some great, terrible twist of fate, I survived.”

Tears began to pool in her eyes. “I only ever saw that monster once more after that. He came to my room at night, while I was still bandaged and healing, unable to say anything. He told me he’d granted my wish, that Hendrik had seen me for who I truly was: ugly, manipulative, a creature with an appearance now less than human, in order to match my nature. He said that now I was paying up for my wish. He was right. My sister was dead, my love gone. My parents disowned me, not wanting someone as grotesque as me for an heir. They cast me out and told everyone I had succumbed to my injuries.

“People still stare at me when I walk past. I’ve had people who have fainted or puked at the sight of me. The locals are frightened of me, think I’ve been cursed somehow. They’re not wrong, in a way.”

Johanna reached up with her sleeve and wiped her eyes. She sniffed once, before composing herself again. “I told your friend Joonmyun exactly as I’ve just told you now. I told him the one thing he should’ve gotten into his damn head, after all the searching, all the chasing he’d done. That that…creature doesn’t give you what he wants. He gives you what he asked for.”

Silence enveloped them. The muffled sounds of laughter and merriment seeped in from outside the walls, but they fell flat on Kyungsoo’s ears, dropping away into the void of his thoughts.

Johanna shrunk into herself, shoulders curling. “I’ve told you everything I know. Now leave me be. And if someone else comes to me looking for the lot of you, I won’t have any of it. This is the last time.”

“I...alright,” Kyungsoo said, the words “I’m sorry” and “I understand” dying on his lips. He could probably never truly understand; there was no point pretending for the sake of offering comfort. She wanted none.

Jongin was reluctant to leave, a million emotions flitting across his face as he looked at Johanna. Kyungsoo gently took hold of his wrist. “Come on.”

“I,” Jongin said, hesitantly.

“Don’t thank me,” Johanna said. She was no longer looking at them. Her voice was barely more than a whisper. “Go. Leave.”

Finally, Jongin turned away, the action visibly paining him. Kyungsoo kept a steady hold on his arm as he led him out of the storeroom.

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