"What do you need the money for, if I may ask? Are you planning on a big project?"

Mingi's hands in their fingerless gloves worked tirelessly on the ropes and hooks strewn around. While he set up everything, Jongho merely lurked by the door to the canyon and held it open for him. For a moment, the paranoia about telling Mingi the truth hit him. He changed his mind soon, though. After all the help he granted Jongho - including traversing over the dangerous Chasm once more - he qualified for faith.

"My father struggles with sickness. He needs expensive medicine."

Mingi hummed thoughtfully and knotted up a rope so fast that Jongho barely captured the movement of his hands. Cold seeped into the hideout from the gaping abyss outside.

"So you're a good guy who cares for his family? They must appreciate it."

Jongho frowned. While he recognised that he worked hard, he was also keenly aware of the trouble he couldn't protect his father from. In the months he laboured twice as hard as usual to support their home and his father's sickness, his father had barely recovered. Restricted day by day, weakness and disease ate away at him. Jongho blamed his disability to offer any comfort.

"I try my best, but Zey summons misery. How about you? Anybody at home to look out for?" When prompted, Jongho acted as a rack for the ropes while Mingi worked around him. All the while, he kept an appropriate distance from Jongho even if his demeanour remained friendly.

"A bunch of siblings and my parents, yeah. But they all slave away, too, except for the youngest two, so we support each other."

So Mingi was an older brother, too. Hence the similarities to Yunho.

"I have a sister in your age. One older brother, too. The other five are younger."

That accounted for a whole lot of siblings. Large families were a norm in Zey, and if they all survived, then at least the family wouldn't have to compromise the worst sides of poverty. Jongho couldn't imagine how it must be for them. Having so many people around coincided with a lot of stress to him.

Yet, Mingi's voice carried fondness. Jongho didn't doubt that his family was precious to him. Families were one of the little joys that Zey possessed.

"I had a brother who died in the war. Mom died of grief."

Mingi shot his hook into the wall. With a crunch, it got stuck in the rough stone. After a careful pull, Mingi fixed the rope to the wall. Jongho deemed it easy. Maybe he acquired the technique for it in the future.

"What was he like? Your brother?"

Mingi collected his bag and motioned Jongho to proceed already while he paused. As Jongho and his gadgets climbed over, memories of Yunho's brightly smiling face flooded his mind. Sad, he smiled as well.

"A content man. Some people criticised his happiness. I found Zey to be a much brighter place while he was around. He loved life and even the bad sides of Zey."

Jongho's smile felt waxy on his face. The corners of his lips twitched as if they tried to fight his joy. His memories of Yunho were all accompanied by a melancholic sense of longing. He missed his brother dearly.

"And then that spark became extinct when he died... I see how it is. I would have loved to meet him. People with that much happiness to share are rare in Zey."

Jongho grunted approvingly as he grabbed onto the stones and pulled himself up. His gloves dug into the wall.

"I bet he would have adored your siblings, especially the younger ones." Jongho's voice was hollow in the depth of the canyon. It echoed slightly underneath them and caused shivers to run down his spine.

Mingi left it at that while they busied themselves with climbing. Both were intensely focused on the wall above them and didn't bother to look down into the black nothingness underneath. Where could it possibly end? If somebody fell, it was either dying of the rocks peeling one's skin from their bodies or hitting the small steam of water with its deadly torrents that probably marked the end.

Neither of those options sounded particularly inviting.

Jongho felt slightly numb by the time he scaled the edge of the cliff. As he rolled into safety, he willed his muscles to unclench after they had tensed from the fear of climbing. Whilst Jongho was not afraid of heights, his rational mind threatened him with the anxiety of falling anyway.

In the few moments it took for him to calm down, Mingi spied out the route into the dark city. Jongho appreciated his patience and used it to boost up his confidence once more.

As he stumbled to his feet, he nodded Mingi to lead the way.

-

Yeosang's reaction to identifying Jongho again quite amused him.

He and Mingi had parted along the way, and Mingi had disappeared into the main palace building. At his irregular amount of promises to take care, Jongho had just risen his eyebrow and challenged him to return in one piece. Then, he had sneaked off towards the marvellous staircase and right into the empty library.

This time, he knocked on Yeosang's door before he burst in rudely. The room represented absolute silence for a second, but when he carefully knocked again, a groggy hum sounded.

"Hwa?"

Yeosang's voice at night was husky and riddled with sleep. When Jongho didn't reply for several seconds, the soft patter of feet on the ground approached the door. Jongho scrutinised at the passage to the library. It remained shut.

Yeosang opened his door with a verve that blew back some of his messy locks. Fascinated, Jongho stared at the funny bird's nest they formed atop his head.

After a second of confused blinking and awkward stares, Yeosang's mouth dropped open. The surprise overtook all across his features but again - and this was getting worrisome - he lacked fear. Instead, his eyes took on a playful glint as soon as he recognised Jongho.

"Oh, the westsider! You came back!"

Jongho winced at his volume. The man's voice resounded in the high library that connected too closely to the main corridor in Jongho's opinion.

Thus, with a shushing sound, he rose his hand to press over Yeosang's lips. He didn't mind the man's wide eyes and the fact that he probably tasted dirt on his gloves. Instead, he shoved the man back into his dark room and shut the door behind him.

Only when he deemed the two of them safe, he stepped back with a heartfelt sigh.

Entering the palace was a nerve-racking endeavour. He had to ensure it wouldn't become a habit.

"You came back," Yeosang repeated much quieter. Remorse manifested on his dimly lit face. Surprisingly, this room had no curtains despite being part of the palace. Jongho didn't care enough about the odd aspect to ask.

"Yeah. Turn on the light; I have things to talk about."

Yeosang excitedly shuffled through the room only to halt in front of his lamp. While he stood still, tense silence enveloped the two of them.

"I broke the light actually. I couldn't fix it."

Awkward, the tension in the room thickened. With a grunt, Jongho held out his hand.

"Hand it over."

As Yeosang scrambled to obey, Jongho watched his silhouette in the dark curiously. The man seemed more hectic than last time, probably due to the sudden appearance of Jongho. He nearly knocked a bottle of water over as he hastily thrust his moon lamp into Jongho's arms. The mechanic cradled it with more care.

As he sought for a spot underneath the window to examine the damage, Yeosang already shifted again. His nervousness wafted off him in waves and ticked off Jongho's sensitive nerves.

"Sit down and ask me something, dear god. The fumbling is horrible," Jongho gruffly mumbled under his breath.

Like a zap of lightning, Yeosang planted his body on the foot of the bed that bordered the window and inspected Jongho from big eyes.

"How have you been?"

It was an odd first question to ask a stranger, but Jongho humoured him. He yanked a screwdriver from his belt and poked it at the oddly joined wires inside the moon. Irked from the mess that Yeosang had clearly created himself, he answered briefly.

"Working and getting by. I came back because I needed to hold you to your word." With a low curse slipping from his lips, Jongho pried two wires apart that had gotten stuck with each other.

Yeosang had fiddled around with the thing with no concept what he was doing. If anything, he had worsened the state of the poor moon.

"I see. I hoped you would. Since last time, I found quite a few things that I can gift you. Nobody will miss them." Yeosang giggled into his hand. A tint of evilness blended into his voice, and it had Jongho chuckle.

"Good." Jongho pushed all things into their correct place finally. Like a beacon, the moon lit up and blinded him for a second. Blinking, he handed it back.

With a little 'thanks', Yeosang positioned his lamp next to his body on the bed. While he scurried around the room to gather his things, Jongho sat down on the sole chair.

"So... See, since you came back, I'll explain better this time. I'm writing a book."

Jongho tilted his head. He had never considered writing a book before, but it suited the librarian. His concentrated expression pinched in the way that Jongho had spotted writers do.

"In this book, a person growing up in a city like Asora moves to a new town. He runs into some trouble and ends up living in similar dire circumstances as Zey does."

He explained his plot slowly and with the insecurity of an artist unsure if his mind was understood. Jongho nodded along. The more he easily accepted the tale; the more Yeosang dropped his taut shoulders.

"So since I want to explain his new surroundings well, I write along with the example of Zey. But since I never left Asora..." He trailed off.

Jongho lacked ideas about writing books and doing research. Frankly, the reason behind Yeosang's greed for wisdom didn't matter to him at all. With rambling about Zey, though, he could help. It was a small price to pay for his father's medicine.

"Most of the things in Zey behave differently than in Asora. We don't use nethicite energies, for example. We have distinguished kinds of works and schedules that rely on our surroundings. Our kids don't get educated."

Yeosang's pen flew over the paper as he noted Jongho's every word down. He sucked them up like a sponge. Concentration had him tight in its grip while Jongho randomly blurted out anything that came to mind.

"Many people die of diseases. Medicine is expensive. Sometimes, people decide they don't even want to try living in these circumstances and take their own lives."

With a soft gasp, Yeosang rose his eyes. His troubled expression showed compassion for those people he had no connection to. Jongho couldn't bear focusing on him and lowered his eyes.

"Rich people travel to Zey to regard us like animals in a zoo. We live off of merchants' food since we can't grow our own because the ground is barren. When it rains, some houses and all streets flood."

Jongho had no idea what the important bits characterised. For him, this concluded his daily life; he knew nothing else. He couldn't be sure which of these facts were relating only to Zey or maybe both cities.

"That sounds horrible."

Jongho shrugged as he met Yeosang's honest expression. He was used to it; he didn't pity himself.

"We also don't have many libraries or librarians over there. Some people can't read. You would be a very odd personality in our books." With a small smile, Jongho tried to raise the man's mood again. He hoped Yeosang wouldn't change his mind about aiding Jongho because he disliked their reality.

At his jest, the man hesitated, however.

"I'm- You thought I'm a librarian?" A little chuckle escaped him. It was small but free, and his face laughed while his eyes didn't. Jongho found the observation interesting.

"Why else would you be in here? I also pondered it for a while since you chose weird quarters even for a worker. You being so close with Prince Seonghwa threw me off, too. Are palace people all that close with each other?" Jongho fiddled with his leg. Yeosang lowered his pen when his attention immediately shifted to the metal gears.

"Seonghwa is my brother."

Jongho stopped short. Unsure if he jumped to the right conclusions, he studied Yeosang's face first. The man had closed off slightly, and his eyes had grown duller than just a moment before.

"Then aren't you a prince?"

With a shake of his head, Yeosang picked up the pen again. His smile appeared forced and wry.

"No. I'm just a little librarian. Now, where were we?"