the newest supply of medicine would last Jongho's father for at least four weeks.

Jongho met regularly with Mingi, and the two hung out together to spend some time outside of work and talk about their families. After a while, Jongho met Mingi's little siblings, and the man helped him perfect his grappling hook. It created a practical addition to Jongho's gadgets.

After his last trip to Asora, he had also handed his father the book on airship mechanics. Yeosang had planned for him to use it first, but since Jongho related to his father's intense boredom in the hours he spent curled up in his bed, he had switched up the order. His father enjoyed it in the dark evenings when Jongho sat at his workbench with his goggles on his face and worked on his newest project. Sometimes, he spoke up to inform Jongho of a fact that he found particularly interesting and Jongho always listened with the utmost attention.

Winter had begun to roam the streets. Zey's shady ghettos darkened with the lack of the light of day when the sun remained hidden behind a thick blanket of clouds. Jongho had yet to taste the cold of snow on his tongue, but the air already smelled of the dreaded time of the year.

Since they were close to the ocean, they were more likely to be flooded by masses of icy rain than experience much snow. It came as a curse and a blessing at the same time. The people out on the streets were less likely to die of the cold, but each corner of the city would be wet and create a breeding ground for diseases.

Mingi had told a worried Jongho that he would be safe and that no drop of water would be able to reach him down in his hideout. Since he worried about Jongho just the same, he had also offered for him to find protection in his bunker whenever he needed to. If the necessity arose, he would even carry Jongho's father down there to shield them from the cold temperatures.

Jongho had thanked him for the offer, but he was positive that they would make it through just fine. Since his mother and Yunho were gone, they always had a blanket more to spare that they could huddle under.

In the mornings, when Jongho ran through the frozen streets, thin layers of ice created death traps at every corner. It was the time of the year where the automatons were less likely to catch up with flighty criminals, but also more inclined to shoot innocent people when their transportation balls slipped while they fired.

In winter, Jongho's spirits animated because of the white steam that rose from his gadgets at any times. In addition to the little puffs that evaporated in the air through his mask, it created the illusion of him as a mechanical being with supernatural powers just like the automatons were. He enjoyed pretending to be strong like them. The little act alleviated the dejection of being on the lower end of the food chain.

Zey warmed itself with its factories. Despite the cold winds that howled between the alleys, the dense urban lifestyle, and the heat of the steam-generated machines saved them some warmth. The veil of clouds that separated them from the aether of the skies stored the precious heat within Zey.

Asora with its mighty towers and large spaces would be colder. Jongho hoped that Yeosang wouldn't freeze. His room could get quite chilly, after all.

Jongho started to wear a warmer scarf for his deliveries. The thick fabric didn't serve as a mask well, so he got a new one that wrapped around his ears snugly and protected his face from the chilling cold and the smog. He was comfortably warm around his neck even when the cold sometimes crept through his jacket and into his very bone. As long as he sprinted over the flat roofs of Zey, he wouldn't freeze.

Jongho's father was glad whenever he returned safely. He himself had survived his fair share of accidents when the treacherous ice on the streets had tripped him up. So every day without an incident was a win.

In winter, they ate soup often. They enjoyed huddling together and sit with their thighs and shoulders aligned on their cold ground as they enjoyed the warm meal. The vendor near their corner made delicious soup for low prices. It worked magic to give lufe back to their weary bodies.

Jongho showed his father his newest project during dinner. Today was one of the darkest evenings in the week, so Jongho had finished his deliveries early and returned home with their soup. As he sat the noodle broth down in front of his father, he fetched the little heap of metal from his desk.

"Take a look. What do you think?"

He handed it over while Jongho went to unpack their food. As he swiftly washed their spoons, his father gave a tentative hum.

"It's a bird, isn't it? Will you add the other wing?"

Jongho didn't bother to dry the spoons off. He merely shook the water droplets away and came back. Their room was dark. They had to hang a bag over their only window in winter to keep the cold from sneaking its icy tendrils inside at night.

"Yeah. I had to leave it out for the mechanisms. I want it airborne."

His father twisted and turned the object in his hands. With great caution, the pads of his bony fingers swept over the brass cogs and wires.

"Will those eyes be luminous? You built it around a music box, didn't you?"

Jongho's hands were busy with sorting their bowls and spoons in front of each person. Instead of his fingers, he nodded his chin at the little glass eyes of the unfinished creature.

"Phosphorescent if it complies as it should. It would be weird to have them light up during the day. And yeah. This one is a present for a friend. Do you think he will like it?"

His father put the piece in front of them so they could further regard it while they ate. As he picked up his spoon, he hummed approvingly.

"It's for Mingi, right? I think he will. He's a good guy; he deserves some company while he works."

Jongho nodded around his first bite of noodles. As usual, they were soggy with broth and slightly bland, but he loved them all the same.

"He's been building a blunderbuss recently. Time to mention the good sides of life."

Jongho's father chuckled into his soup. Neither of them could introduce themselves as very optimistic characters, but they recognised a moment of peace when it appeared.

"If you struggle with the linkage between the torso and the last wing, tell me. I might be able to help." With a last glance at the bird, Jongho's father shifted his focus on his food entirely. Jongho did, too.

They warmed their bodies with the soup and shared merry conversation once both finished. Jongho's father was in excellent condition today, and his mood stayed gleeful when Jongho brought him over to his bed.

"I must say, palace books are something else. I had such fun reading through the first few chapters even though it's mostly just information. Did you know that the valves on a blimp can clog and the pressure inside the ballot might become so intense that they have to slash the outer layer open and ruin the whole airship in order to evacuate?"

Jongho made a surprised noise as he tucked in the blanket around his father.

"Zounds, that sounds horrible. Imagine being the mechanic who has to make that decision. All blame will fall on you, even if the valve suffered because of propulsion."

He wasn't too surprised. Airships were a risky trend, and even if most of them flew safely with nethicite energies as their main fuel, the accidents that sometimes occurred didn't only affect the whole crew. Depending on where a falling and ablaze airship came down, it might even wipe out a whole village.

Jongho's father took his medicine with determination. His attention was on his book already as he gulped down the bitter mixture. Once he was done, Jongho put his mug away and went back to work.

"He writes how the doxies loved him. Maybe if you became air captain, then the women would swarm towards you like birds."

Jongho sat down on his chair and wrapped his jacket around his shoulders loosely. As he pulled his goggles over his head and adjusted the lens, his father scoffed sarcastically as if Jongho not having a woman by his side was the biggest crime he could commit.

Accessorized with his wrench and pliers, Jongho ceaselessly weaved into his usual working pattern.

"Maybe I should. If they are into iron and skulduggery, then I might fit right in."

Both of them sunk into their occupation. Jongho's father dropped facts and comments on his readings from time to time, and Jongho kept adjusting his arm gear to use the right amount of strength and precision needed to link the tiny cogs.

Whenever Jongho stretched back over his chair to roll his shoulders or stretch his arms, his father suggested for him to take a break. However, in his stubbornness to hear the satisfying hiss of the tiny cogs running tonight already, he powered through.

He interrupted his work only to turn on the music bunny for his father. With its sweet melody lulling him to sleep, even Jongho could feel the effect of the vexing tunes.

He had the bird flap one of its wings weakly and the cogs congested twice on the way, but it was something. During the night, he slipped into his jacket more and more when the stored warmth of both his and his father's bodies started cooling at their inactivity.

Before Jongho crawled into bed to his father, he put the bird next to the bunny. He had never intended for it to be a present for Mingi. Rather than his close friend, he wanted to gift it to Yeosang. For Jongho, a bird was a symbol of freedom and soaring heights. His wish to fly could only be helped by an airship, but birds could go wherever they wanted, whenever they pleased.

Since Yeosang was locked up so lonely and cut from freedom, Jongho wanted to remind him of its meaning. It also served as a little thanks for the help that Yeosang had graced Jongho with. If he was lucky, then Yeosang might blush a bit at receiving it. A subconscious grin formed on Jongho's lips at the thought of it.

Nonetheless, telling his father about Asora was a bad idea, hence the secrecy.

Jongho shut off his little working lamp before he went to bed. With the book open on his chest, his father had fallen asleep. His quiet snores rattled in his throat and had Jongho smile.

He put the book away and huddled close to his father before Jongho left his conscious in the care of dreams that led him out of Zey.

-

When Jongho awoke the next morning, the cold had crept inside their room despite the safety measures. His father still rested next to Jongho, huddled into the blanket to the point of sharing nearly next to no body heat with his son who was right next to him.

With a groan, Jongho rolled out of bed and put his naked feet onto the chilly floor. He shivered as he went over to boil some water to warm the two of them up. The whirr of the machine entertained his befuddled mind.

"Wake up, dad, time for your medicine."

When no answer came, Jongho decided to let him rest some more. Since yesterday had been a very energetic day for the sick man, Jongho didn't need him to clarify.

He went to work and finished the rest of the bird. The music box was connected to its crank, the mechanism for the wings coiled without a hitch, and the head had no more holes to fill.

However, when Jongho turned to ask his father about the linkage between the last wing and the rest of the clockwork item, he found him in the same position as before.

With a fond sigh, he put the bird down and checked on him.

He found that his father had died a few hours ago. His body was already cold, and all life was long since taken from him in his sleep.