4. Becoming a Helper

Seonghwa didn't tell his mother the entire truth. He didn't want to worry her with talk of ghosts and purple flames in a cave, so he only mentioned he met someone in the mountains and that he might visit them occasionally.

His mother smiled, glad he was finding friends and having fun. She often felt guilty about burdening him with her maintenance, and since Seonghwa felt just as guilty if he left her alone, he was glad to submit to his curiosity this time.

The next morning, Seonghwa got up early to pump the well and chop some wood. He finished his work in the village in record time and when he finally exhaled into the wintry air, his shoulders and back ached from working hard. Still, he didn't dawdle and climbed the mountain hastily. He greeted his father, but the shadows of their graveyard wouldn't take form for him even when he addressed them. Figuring they only felt comfortable in Hongjoong's proximity, Seonghwa was even more intrigued as he scurried up the ridge. Thankfully, Hongjoong's feet traced through the fresh snow today as well, so Seonghwa didn't lose his way in the ever-shifting landscape.

Out of breath, but with a big grin on his flushed cheeks, Seonghwa was giddy to assure himself yesterday hadn't been a dream and he truly would help this mysterious person with his plans and then also attempt to save the village.

If they succeeded, Seonghwa might be able to save a lot of people. Or at least work together with the court physician Wooyoung ran to fetch.

The cave was the same as the day before. Haunting in its beauty and filled with whispers and murmurs. The purple light danced over the walls as Seonghwa felt his way along the rough rock until it turned into smooth bricks.

Hongjoong was at his table today as well, and he stirred in a cauldron. To Seonghwa, he looked terribly lonely. Though he seemed unperturbed and his figure was steadfast, it was small in the grand room. Only accompanied by the whispers of the dead, wouldn't anyone go mad after some time?

Determined to show he was worthy company with his living, warm personality, Seonghwa hopped down the stairs to greet him.

"You came," Hongjoong noted without looking at him before Seonghwa even got to open his mouth. Surprised, Seonghwa sent him a crooked grin. He would have to get used to Hongjoong's extraordinary character, but after sleeping for a night, he wasn't half as scary as Seonghwa initially thought. Somehow, the clicking bone belt and the haunting chill of his voice had their charm.

Perhaps Seonghwa yearned for the friendship of someone who wasn't wasting away from the disease. Intrigued by this new person in his life, he huddled to Hongjoong's side and peered into his cauldron. Clawed fingers sprinkled ingredients into the eerie-looking black mixture. Its scent was sweet, yet nothing Seonghwa regarded as safe to drink.

"Of course. I want to help you," Seonghwa replied, and Hongjoong nodded to himself. His eyes were covered today as well, and he looked no different from yesterday. Did he even sleep?

So full of questions, Seonghwa peered up at the beckon of a clawed finger.

"Go into that room and around the fallen pillar. You will find a patch of plants in it. Retrieve some for me." Hongjoong didn't hesitate to put him to work. Earnest about his help, Seonghwa fixated his eyes on the entrance Hongjoong pointed to.

"What do you need?"

"Black henbane, jimson weed... Two of each. The drawings are in this book." Hongjoong handed him the open page and pointed at the two he needed. Hastily, Seonghwa scurried off. He rounded the curious shadows out of respect and explored deeper into the underground cave system of the old castle. Several chambers spread from the main area. The corridors were lined with lesser graves and chased shudders down Seonghwa's spine, but his surroundings were clean and well-lit. Hongjoong must tend to the tomb daily.

After finding the crumbled pillar, it was easy to get to the plot. It tucked to the side of a storage area filled with boxes and their mysterious labels. Seonghwa spotted crystals and dried fruit, vials of liquid, and stacks of paper.

The plot was lush with growth. Seonghwa didn't understand how the flowers blossomed without a source of light, but he figured most of these mushrooms didn't need any, either.

After plucking out the plants Hongjoong asked of him, Seonghwa wisely kept his hands to himself before anything else. He was sure some of these gems were worth lots of money, but he didn't want to break Hongjoong's trust.

And Seonghwa felt so watched by these graves. How many spirits were in here, plotting their mischief? Somehow, Seonghwa knew they would report to Hongjoong if Seonghwa were to steal from him.

Upon his return, Seonghwa placed the book on the table and showed Hongjoong his findings. Satisfied, Hongjoong told him to grind them into a paste using the mortar and pestle of stone on the table. While Seonghwa worked, Hongjoong stirred his cauldron. His silence was contemplative, somewhat chilling but not scary. He was different, but Seonghwa spent enough time loving the fouling population of his village that this type of eeriness didn't put him off.

Once the plants were ground, Hongjoong poured the mixture into his cauldron and glanced at his parchment with instructions.

"Yunho still has my mandrake."

Upon hearing his name, the spirit manifested on top of the table. He played with a bizarre-looking root, giggling in mischief about having stolen it from Hongjoong.

Unsure how to get him to put it down, Seonghwa rounded the table to reach his side. Narrow eyes watched him, void of life yet glinting with something else.

"Could you give us the mandrake? We need it," Seonghwa pleaded politely. The prankster contemplated him, not easily swayed by a kind voice. Perhaps he wanted something in return?

Seonghwa glanced across the table. He found the same rock hand Yunho had played with yesterday, clearly fond of its crunch.

When Seonghwa picked it up, it was lighter than he expected. The surface was uneven, not as cold as stone, but decidedly stiff.

Fascinated by the peculiar texture, Seonghwa held it out to Yunho.

"Here, do you want this instead? You can have it."

Yunho contemplated the hand. He seemed unable to speak properly even if he tried, having no body to tunnel his voice into.

After another moment, he hopped closer. He snatched the hand from Seonghwa's fingers and dropped the mandrake, giggling about the stubborn rustling of his treasure when he tried to bend its fingers.

Gingerly, Seonghwa picked up the mandrake. It looked so warped and twisted, as if wanting to grab onto him with gnarly roots. Yet it was no being, just a plant. Hongjoong dropped it into the cauldron whole when he received it.

Curious, Seonghwa watched his progress while he awaited further orders.

"Are you making a scent for them to rest to? A potion?"

As before, Hongjoong seemed so amused by his questions. He chuckled to himself while he sprinkled some white powder - perhaps salt - into the mixture.

"Similar. If the dead stay in our world for too long, they become grotesque. They lose their human empathy and become monsters greedy for flesh. Unthinking and unfeeling. I try to harness their energy before that happens."

"So it's easier to send them into the light?"

"Something like that, yes."

Awed by his skill, Seonghwa continued cleaning up around him and handing him his ingredients as Hongjoong asked. Occasionally, he dashed around the cave, getting used to its layout to gather items, while Hongjoong tamed the boiling potion over the raging purple flames.

Soon, Seonghwa was hot in his coat from all the running around. He watched as Hongjoong muttered to the spirits, getting them to move and stop stealing his things.

After carrying in a bucket of snow to cool the finished mixture, Seonghwa got to catch his breath once more.

"Could you always understand them?" He asked Hongjoong, so comfortable around him now. He no longer questioned Hongjoong's ability to manoeuvre around his surroundings. His skill, despite his covered eyes, had become most impressive.

"Yes. I have an innate talent for it," was his cryptic answer. And Seonghwa didn't need more explanations. Undoubtedly, Hongjoong was different. Special from the people in the village. Though Seonghwa couldn't understand him, he wanted to learn.

While Hongjoong prepared for the next step of his elixir, Seonghwa leaned over the books. The symbols made no sense to him. They swirled and interwove but he couldn't find an image in them, nor a pattern.

Did Hongjoong write these himself? Or were they handed down to him? Seonghwa was so curious whether he was taught by a master or grew up in a family of people just like him.

Cautious fingertips smoothed over the page. The surface of the ink was rough against the parchment. The scent of its age tickled Seonghwa's nose.

A cold touch met Seonghwa's nape. It tingled down his spine, and he abruptly flinched back, drawing away from it. His nape was hot against his collar as if warding off the fingers feeling over the thick leather band.

Hongjoong let his hand sink. His face was blank under his hood.

Wincing about his hasty reaction, Seonghwa rubbed his nape and his collar, making sure everything was in place. His heart hammered in his chest, startled by the sudden touch though he was surrounded by the souls of the dead.

"Don't- Sorry. Please don't touch that," Seonghwa fumbled for an explanation. For spending time with Hongjoong all day, the atmosphere quickly turned uncomfortable after his jump. Awkward, Seonghwa tried to play it off.

Hongjoong focused back on his blubbering potion.

"I noticed you wore it again; yesterday as well," he replied, voice steady as before.

Surprised he noticed something so trivial as part of a daily outfit so quickly, Seonghwa forgot his scare. Yunho had shrouded himself in shadows, but Seonghwa knew their curious eyes and fingers felt over him all the time.

"All the time, yes. It protects me and keeps me warm. My parents told me to wear it." Did it stand out? Hongjoong wore the same necklaces as the day prior as well.

But the embalmer wasn't particularly perturbed by this information, not so confused as Wooyoung had been.

"I see. Still, clean it from time to time when you feel comfortable to take it off. At home, for example. You wouldn't want it to grow into your flesh."

Fresh horror slowed Seonghwa's thoughts. He felt over his nape and nervously tugged on the laces at the front. Right, he took off his clothes every day but never his collar. He washed with it on, slept with it on. Would it actually grow into his flesh?

Frozen in his fear, Seonghwa suddenly itched to take it off. Was nervous about what may lie beneath. He had worn it since he was a child, so it would morph to be a part of him, no?

If Hongjoong picked up on his panic, he didn't mention it.

"Can you run to the back once more and bring the box with crystals? We have to infuse them with the potion now."

Seonghwa didn't know how he would get liquid into stone, but the questions never ended in this magical place. Was this how Hongjoong lit up the cave?

Pushing all other thoughts aside, Seonghwa distracted himself with his new task.

"Will do," he grinned and scurried across the cave once more. A few whispers followed behind him as the spirits warmed up to his presence. Seonghwa hoped they wouldn't start pranking him as they did to Hongjoong.

For the rest of the day and no matter how Seonghwa concentrated on helping Hongjoong, his thoughts kept drifting back to his collar. The heat persisted as if his nape was suddenly keenly aware of its restriction and Seonghwa caught himself several times, trying to slip his fingers under its fitted grasp, tugging against the leather only to fail against its tight hug.

If Seonghwa burnt up so much and blushed whenever the shame of his rude reaction flooded back in, why had Hongjoong's hands felt so cold?

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