After their romantic encounter, Hongjoong asked Seonghwa to stay home for a day to rest. No matter how Seonghwa pouted and protested, listing all the things he could help Hongjoong with, the response remained unyielding. Hongjoong wanted him to rest his body from the long trek and his work. And he put in the fair argument that Seonghwa's mother would worry if she saw him so rarely these days.

Thus, Seonghwa complied. He counted the hours until they would meet again, but he spent a day in the village with his mother. They played some games together and laughed over a shared lunch. In her eyes, Seonghwa could see her relief to have him home with her.

If she noticed his shy smiles or dreamy sighs, she didn't point them out. They reminisced about their favourite games when Seonghwa was small and wanted to spend time with her in the house whenever he didn't play with his father outside. He also plucked the first tulips of spring for her and assorted them in a vase.

The village people were improving by the day and aside from a few elders who were too weak to battle the illness, most were doing fine. Though they still looked haunted and their flesh wouldn't grow back, they didn't get any worse. Seonghwa helped them at the well in the evening and looked forward to meeting with Hongjoong in the tomb after the long hours of the night.

The night seemed to drag on forever, and Seonghwa knew he would barely sleep from his excitement. How would Hongjoong greet him? Would they kiss regularly now?

So many ideas and imaginations rushed through his mind that Seonghwa hid the deceptive blush on his cheeks with a smile to himself. He thought himself unseen until a voice called out to him, startling him from his thoughts.

For a moment, Seonghwa felt caught in the act. As if he had to explain himself. But no worried priest rushed his way. That voice belonged to Wooyoung, the mayor's son and the sole friend of Seonghwa's age, in their village. Who had left for the capital nearly two moons ago.

"Seonghwa?" He chirped and immediately came springing from the stairs of his home. Surprised, Seonghwa hugged him when the other barrelled right into him. Wooyoung looked wearied from his long journey and his arm rested in a sling, but his grin was bright on his face. No more cough carried with his every breath.

"Wooyoung? When did you come back?" Though surprised, Seonghwa didn't veil his joy. Wooyoung returned in one piece and the disease hadn't killed him on his way.

"Just this morning! I've been resting while my father spoke to Jongho." With an excited beckon, Wooyoung waved at the man slowly coming down the stairs behind him. He wore long blue robes belted at his waist and his even face matched the way he carried himself. Not arrogant, but with a certain grace and caution. Not unlike Hongjoong.

Clearly, he didn't belong to their community and the healthy glow of his cheeks was accompanied by a kind smile.

"This is Jongho, the physician the court sent to join me! Jongho, this is Seonghwa, I told you about him. The only one who didn't get sick," Wooyoung introduced them to each other.

Awed, Seonghwa grinned back at him.

"You did it! We almost gave up hope." Proud, he patted Wooyoung's back. The poor boy lost some weight on his journey, but his pride for saving the village from certain ruin brought his healthy glow back.

Although Seonghwa had to wonder. What did the physician find? Especially now that Hongjoong's treatment already affected them?

"I would never leave my people behind. Jongho taught me so much on my journey and was ready to help, though my hearing kept getting postponed. If you want to thank anyone, thank him," Wooyoung played it down.

Once more, Seonghwa nodded at Jongho.

"Thank you for looking out for us. I may not know about medicine, but if I can be of any help with my peculiar condition or knowing my way around the area and some herbs, please tell me."

Though Jongho nodded, the scrutiny of his eyes was wary. He studied Seonghwa from head to toe as he cheered together with Wooyoung, but he didn't seem to find what he was looking for.

"Actually, may I have a word with you? You should rest your shoulder, Wooyoung. Don't worry about me, Seonghwa can show me around," Jongho addressed the pair. Though Wooyoung hung his head, he gave in.

"I hurt my arm tumbling from a tree to get honey. But it will be fine thanks to Jongho," Wooyoung shared at Seonghwa's worried face. Then, he hopped back towards his home and waved them goodbye.

"See you soon, Hwa! Be nice to Jongho for me."

"Will do, our hero," Seonghwa grinned back. Wooyoung disappeared inside to bring life and joy to his ill family. Meanwhile, Jongho nodded at the path around the village.

"Shall we?"

They wandered aimlessly. Jongho already knew the most important facilities, and he seemed unafraid to stay among the sick people. Did that mean the disease didn't spread after all? Surely, he must have first guesses already.

When Seonghwa's confusion filled the air between them with questions, Jongho took pity on him. The last snow crunched under their feet, melting among trees dotted with shy green shoots. As if the village's haunt disappeared with the shadows of winter, passion returned with Wooyoung.

Songbirds hopped through the trees to announce their joy. Seonghwa relished their song and the refreshing scent.

"What Wooyoung described to me immediately sounded like no ordinary illness," Jongho shared his findings. Invested, Seonghwa hung from his pouty lips.

"Shamanism and healing magic go hand in hand. Though I specialise in herbs and salves made from natural ingredients, I studied many types of illnesses. Some are air borne and some are the curses of magical creatures. I even had a case of a jinxed object once."

Seonghwa nodded along. Thanks to Hongjoong, he understood this topic better than before. But he never heard the embalmer draw a conclusion on the disease. His work was limited to the spirits of the tomb.

"When Wooyoung told me one person wasn't getting sick, I had my immediate suspicions."

"Is there such a disease that avoids all but one? We tried to figure out what was different about me but I am of the same flesh and blood. Same age, same area I was born in," Seonghwa muttered.

Jongho crossed his hands behind his back and wandered with contemplative eyes on the road. Evidently, he hadn't figured out a cure yet if he roamed around investigating. Had he, by any chance, asked to meet Seonghwa first before deciding?

Suddenly aware of the tension between them, Seonghwa glanced away. He hadn't done anything wrong, had he? Why was Jongho so wary of him when they were strangers?

"Usually if a sickness strikes everyone but one person, I would assume that the spared one is the culprit. Because only the one who poisoned the water would know not to drink it," Jongho explained.

Seonghwa halted in his step. His hurt was plain on his face and bled into fear.

"I haven't done anything like it! My mother ails and this village is my entire life! I wouldn't try to kill my friends."

Would he be convicted for doing nothing wrong? Hanged? Quartered?

Jongho nodded slowly at Seonghwa's outburst, not moving to call someone on him.

"Wooyoung said the same, but I needed to make sure. By now, I know you didn't do it."

"Y-You know?" Seonghwa's voice was meek. The sudden attack made him wary of Jongho in return and he only picked up his pace slowly, scared Jongho might lure him away from the village on their walk to get him arrested.

"If you aren't a victim, something protects you. Be it your breeding, your diet or even some special item only you possess."

Absent-minded, Seonghwa touched his fingertips to his collar. Jongho's eyes followed the movement.

"I still haven't figured out your special role in this situation, but I know what misfortune you are dealing with."

"Is this a known illness in the capital? Can you heal it?"

Jongho hummed at the first blossoms on the bushes branching across the path. Slowly, they rounded the village behind the towering church.

"I hope I can heal it; that's why I am here. But it's no mere illness you are dealing with."

When Seonghwa remained confused and looked as innocent as before, Jongho relaxed from his suspicions. Seonghwa passed his test and came out as innocent. Nobody knew why he wasn't sick, him included.

"No mere illness?" Seonghwa prompted, worried his people were beyond saving. But they were doing better, no? Hongjoong's rituals worked.

"The state of decay I found the people here in is beyond any mortal capacity. People move with limbs that foul away and their skin melting off their skulls. Usually, the bacteria and infections spreading from such wounds kill people much earlier. I came here looking at a village full of ghosts. People supposed to be dead."

The diagnosis stung, but Seonghwa bravely gulped down the stale taste on his tongue.

"Does that mean we are doing good? That we are resilient? Our people do die... Just slower."

"Slower, right," Jongho confirmed. "Slower than they should with their human limitations. A disease is always the same. But this type of torment is unnatural. Magical."

"Magic?" Seonghwa whispered, even more worried. Was the ground cursed? Did a wrathful god pick them as their victims? Then why didn't their prayers work? Were they supposed to make a sacrifice?

"A dark cloud hangs over these lands. The dead don't rest and the living wander with dead eyes and rotting skin. I have talked to the mayor and the priest and a folk tale reports similar findings near the mountains. Your graveyard is full of restless souls. This darkness poisons the people. And it never occurs naturally."

Seonghwa knew that. Knew of the souls in the graveyard. He glanced away because he didn't want to give away his involvement through his eyes. He already found out nothing scary was on that mountain. Hongjoong helped put the spirits to rest and once he succeeded, the dead would stop tormenting the living out of jealousy and rage. It wasn't their fault. Their unjust deaths brought them this far.

"This is undoubtedly the work of a necromancer," Jongho concluded, and the foreign word made Seonghwa perk up.

"A necromancer?"

"Users of dark magic. Forbidden magic. Death magic. They wake the dead and give them a second life. Have them wander among the living to spread disease. Without such magic, the people of your village wouldn't suffer such prolonged pain. And their souls wouldn't linger. This is only possible with dark magic, and I can feel it in the air all around the village."

"Don't souls linger if they haven't been put to rest properly? For example, if they died of betrayal?"

Jongho shook his head.

"They may linger, but they can never become so tangible to hurt or create sickness. Only if they feed off powerful magic, they can regain their strength and exert their power. I know there is a necromancer near, but it isn't you. You don't possess magical abilities, despite the peculiar air around you."

Seonghwa came to a standstill once more. So many things went through his head. What he learned, what he saw of the spirits in the tomb. How they could pick up items and have conversations as if they were physically there. Cold touches on Seonghwa's nape.

Jongho also halted after a few steps to turn around and look at him. A spring breeze rustled through the trees, but it brought no cheer. Instead, it brought calamity as it wiped Seonghwa's mind of everything else distracting him.

The realisation wasn't sneaking. Wasn't a brunt of shock, either. But it was chilling like the darkest winter night.

Hongjoong, with all his peculiar plants. With the ghosts he whispered to and the bodies he contemplated. With his strange writings and his abstract summoning circles.

Hadn't those limbs on the table and his clothing always looked so real?

Seonghwa's eyes clouded over when he understood. When his mother's warnings aligned with what he had seen and what Jongho said.

Hongjoong's magic wasn't that of a mere healer. It was sinister and foul, sickly sweet.

The same scent as the living dead wandering Seonghwa's village.