Welcome to part two of Asorazey! If you came here first, please read In The Shadow of Asora before you begin this!

Enjoy reading!

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A week.

A week since the plan that Yeosang had yet to learn its full consequences of had passed. A week ever since Yeosang's fear, the death of the crown prince of Asora, and the determination of a certain acquaintance from Zey had pushed him into forming a pact with Jongho.

In the dark hours in Zey, while he waited for their murderous trip to start, Yeosang wondered a lot.

He wondered how the palace was doing, if anybody would miss him there, or if he would be forgotten faster than a star fell from the skies.

He wondered what Jongho thought about him, and their plans, and anything regarding the 'Chasm', as he called it.

And most of all, he wondered how Asora had been so blind towards Zey.

Zey was nothing more than a sullen hole of sordidness. Disease clung to its corners and delivered agony and death to any person. Fresh food was a rarity, and the number of bodies that lined the streets after dying of starvation or from the cold was depressing. The whole city was bathed in something sinister, in a pool of black despair that gnawed at its inhabitants like vultures on a bone. The stench of rancid water that filled the gutters and wouldn't run off gave the whole inner city a note of human faeces. Paired with the poisonous smog it created air that Yeosang would force no human to breathe in.

Dejected faces, ripped clothing, drug-infested alleys. Zey oozed with abject misery, and Yeosang's heart ached for every single person he saw here. The old women with bones jutting from their nearly transparent skin; the men who guided the shovels in the mines that were heard clanking in the distance all day; and the children with their broken and lifeless eyes that played in the mud.

Yeosang saw them all. He saw each of their individual faces that barely stood out from the monochrome grey walls. He saw their pain and their suffering, their ignorance and their bitterness.

What he didn't see was hope.

In all of Zey, not a single speck of hope bloomed. It had suffocated under grey concrete and the clouds of smog.

On some days, he wanted to go out there and take each and every person's hands to assure them he would try his utmost best to ease their pain. But whenever he glanced at Jongho, he knew that all attempts would be futile. Zey's people didn't want help. And Zey's people would rip Yeosang apart if they knew who he was.

Yeosang had never been near Zey before a week ago, but even within those seven days he spent living with Jongho in his grimy little room, he soaked up the hatred against Asora like a sponge. The view from here was befuddled with rightful distaste. Yeosang finally understood why Jongho was such an aloof and brusque fellow. Zey was filled with the common rocks they brought from their mines. Asora was the place where much attention and care made those rocks to shimmering gems of nethicite.

Jongho worked a lot.

With how often they had met, Yeosang was by now keenly aware of the man's shady occupation that kept him busy all day long. Most times he went out himself to run errands and bring things from one person to another. On rare days, he went out with other people. Mingi, sometimes, then some young man with dark hair. Sometimes strangers.

Jongho had sworn to Yeosang that he merely had an extremely busy schedule right now since he prepared for their trip, but the librarian knew that every day in Jongho's life was like this. Running with no end in sight. Because once he stopped running, Zey's shadowy fingers would rip his soul right out of his chest.

Yeosang stayed at home most of the time. He familiarised himself with Jongho's hobby - tinkering with metal scrap and building things from it. The little bird that he had named Bricky - because he was so brave - had come from this very working bench and the long night hours that Jongho's fingers had spent putting everything in place.

Beyond impressed, Yeosang used the bench as a stable platform whenever Jongho was out, and he got some writing done. His short visit to Zey made his characters vivid and glisten with personality.

One time when Yeosang curiously opened all of the few books in Jongho's humble cupboard, he found a picture of the whole family on the first page of one of them. It showed four men and one woman, the youngest clearly being Jongho himself. On that picture - as grey and hopeless as the background was - Jongho's cheeks were still round with youth and his eyes burned with steely strength. He had kept the strength, but his cheeks had lost all of their sweet childishness.

Yeosang had carried it over to Jongho who worked on some sort of weapon in the still night of Zey. He had glanced at it only once before he began to explain with that low voice of his.

"The woman is my mother, as you can guess. The one on the left is my dad. The guy with the gigglemug is my older brother." In the time he went back to work, Yeosang sat down on the bed with the black and white picture on his lap.

"Your mother looks very kind. And your dad very afternoonified. Your brother has a very... brotherly face."

A stab of pain at the memory of Seonghwa had penetrated his heart. Saddened, he clutched the photo tighter.

He and Seonghwa had no pictures together. They weren't allowed to.

"She was indeed. And my father loved to read. Yunho made every day to a benjo."

Jongho wasn't very talkative, but Yeosang appreciated every bit of information the mysterious man shared with him. In a vital corner of his brain, Yeosang remembered them well.

"Do you miss them?"

Silence had wrapped around them when Jongho wordlessly continued to work on his cogs. Only when Yeosang already stood up to put the picture away, he replied. His answer was husky and muffled by his hunched form.

"Sometimes."

Yeosang put the picture back into the book and left it where he had found it in the cupboard. Not only Jongho had been reminded of his family that day, but also Yeosang. While Jongho pushed the thoughts off to work, Yeosang laid down on the bed and let his memories consume him.
Happier days with Seonghwa by his side filled his mind. Sometimes his mother was there, only ever his, never Seonghwa's. Yeosang barely knew Seonghwa's mother. She was very sick, and only the doctors ever went to see her.

Seonghwa had always had less of a gigglemug. He had never been a churchbell. Ever since he was young, Seonghwa had been trained to sit in an orderly manner and with a straight back. He told Yeosang about the etiquette he had to follow every day at dinner with their father, the king, and his royal advisors. About how his every step got documented, and mishaps were punished with force.

If there was one thing that Yeosang had ever appreciated about Seonghwa despite their differences, then it was his resilience. Not even once had Seonghwa given up or allowed his spirit to be broken. During all that time, he had worked towards his own goals and been the best role model Yeosang could wish for.

With him gone, Yeosang felt as if there was nobody left. He and Jongho were different like moon and sun. The new guard that was assigned to him, Wooyoung, he barely knew him.

His mother was long dead, and all he had of her was the drawing in his notebook.

Yeosang was lost in the world, but Seonghwa had taught him not to accept defeat. To honour that, Yeosang would finish what he started. And that story was one he would share with Jongho.

Jongho, who tended to overdo things.

The abundance of provisions and money he gathered within a week was rather butter upon bacon in Yeosang's opinion. Like a dragon hoarding his riches in a dark tower, Jongho came back with so many goods to fill their duffels with, that Yeosang started to wonder whether the weight of the bags might be the thing that dragged them down into the abyss.

He didn't infer with the other man's work, though. Contrary to Yeosang, Jongho knew what he was doing as he prepared. As usual, Yeosang remained quiet in his designated corner. He watched the man instead. Jongho was different from all the other people Yeosang associated with. He might even go as far and call him his closest and most interesting friend at the moment.

His ways fascinated Yeosang, and his curiosity never ceased in the time he spent around him. If one of the characters in his book maybe changed just a bit more in the direction of a certain Zey boy, then Yeosang didn't consciously notice.

Mingi came by their home on the seventh day.

He had a bunch of equipment with him that he dumped on Jongho's desk as soon as he had strode in. With a groan, he rubbed his neck and only then greeted the other two men in the room.

"I got all you asked me to bring. Check it, and we might be able to start our descend tomorrow."

Mingi dropped onto the bed next to Yeosang. In a gesture that was far too familiar for their current relationship, he threw an arm around Yeosang's shoulders. Instead of pulling him close, though, he just rested there. His body was hot from the strain of his trip, and he smelled of sweat, but Yeosang didn't mind. He felt useful for once, even just as an armrest while the other two discussed business.

"How's it going? You nervous?"

Yeosang adjusted his shoulders until Mingi rested at a comfortable height. The man threw him a mischievous grin.

"Very. I'm not too big on climbing, and I don't want to hold the two of you back. You seem far more competent than I could ever hope to be," Yeosang replied earnestly.

Jongho emptied the contents of the bag on his table. Clinking and clattering, the utensils came together in one heap. As he picked out random items that Yeosang couldn't decipher the use of, Mingi reminded him to take care. Then, he turned back towards Yeosang.

"Don't worry; we also don't bang up to the elephant. If anything, all three of us will struggle during the exact same things. I hope we can find a good balance between us all. Literally." With a laugh, he bent to retrieve another bag he had brought.

"I bought soup from the vendor at the corner, anybody hungry?"

Before either of the two men could reply, Mingi already stood to distribute their food. Jongho sent him a thankful glance that was mixed with a frown. His contradicting expression made Yeosang tilt his head curiously, but he had nothing to comment.

"Thanks, Mingi," he called the man's attention back to himself instead. He wanted to give Jongho some space to eat and work. After so many years alone in a room, Yeosang could imagine how exhausted Jongho must be from all the work and constant presence of Yeosang in his place. Since he was busy, Mingi might as well hang with Yeosang and don't bother him. As predicted, Mingi came right back to sit next to Yeosang on the ground and lean his back against the bed. They unwrapped their soup and fell into a quiet conversation so they wouldn't interrupt Jongho.

Mingi was a fun person to be around. He always had a joke or two to share, and his knowledge about Zey and life evoked deep respect from Yeosang. Compared to Jongho, he took things lighter and with more amusement to it, but he was no less savage and marred from their rough surroundings than Jongho was.

Yeosang quite liked the trio that they formed since they balanced each other well. The dynamic between the two Zey men also attracted him. Jongho was far softer and less guarded around Mingi, and sometimes, he regarded him with something akin to affection in his eyes. While Yeosang wouldn't know if it was romantic interest or plain admiration for his close friend, he found himself happy that Jongho had someone he would look at like that. It took some of the loneliness and roughness of his life away.

The more Yeosang watched the two into the evening, the more signs he saw, too. The hair ruffles that Mingi gave Jongho; the curious eyes that Jongho lifted so high up to meet Mingi's gaze; and the laughter they shared.

They looked at each other like brothers would. An enthralling concept, in Yeosang's eyes, to find a brother of choice rather than one that was blood-related. But since he had no idea where Jongho's actual brother was, he found Mingi's bickering and Jongho's faint smiles just as valid.