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A wall of pink peonies stretching upwards to dizzying heights is what greets Woojin after he successfully hacks through dreadful tangles of thorny vines. He gapes up at it, cursing at every witch and mage who ever lived to love plants. And moats. And crocodiles and giant snakes. And the traps, of course. Who could possibly forget the cleverly hidden springboard that launched him face-first into that godforsaken enchanted forest?
Not Woojin. Nothing in the oath of fealty he’d sworn to two months ago ever stated that he couldn’t keep grudges. He’s going to harbor these ill feelings for whoever made these challenges until the day he dies.
Woojin drops the clunky sword and sturdy metal shield on the ground and plops onto his bottom with a grunt. He’d been on his feet and slashing at vines for nearly two days now. Surely he deserves some rest.
As he thinks on his future course, the wall of peonies persistently looms before him. If not for the series of life-threatening obstacles Woojin had just survived, he’d be tempted to think of it as a cheerfully benign backdrop.
Upon closer examination, there are even dots of white and yellow bursting between the large pink blooms. Honestly, who even has the time for this much detail?
“It’s pretty, isn’t it?”
Woojin is just about to nod yes, it’s very pretty, when he remembers that he’d gone into this quest alone and should therefore not be hearing voices other than his own. He spins around into a crouch and comes face to tights-clad knee with a fresh-faced youth.
Scratch that. A fresh-faced youth, possibly Woojin’s age, floating on what seems to be a flowery tree branch. He’s hovering just a couple of feet off the ground, cheeks ruddy, and mouth upturned into a pleased grin. He gestures with one arm (Woojin notes how the loose, swinging sleeves of his patched robe covers almost to the tips of his fingers) towards the flowers. “What do you think about it?” the boy asks with sparkling eyes, his floating branch rising farther up even as he bends forward carelessly. “I personally think it’s the crowning achievement of my career!”
“It’s very… tall,” Woojin answers, slightly distracted by the compulsion to hold out his arms in case the boy falls.
“Isn’t it, though!” is the awed exclamation he hadn’t been aiming for, as if Woojin’s absent-minded response is the best thing this guy has heard in years. “The wall gets energy from, well obviously from the sun, but also whatever is harnessed from passing knights by the thorn bushes over there.”
The branch swings around until the boy is pressed almost nose to nose with Woojin, but upside down. “You’ve made your contribution to my project. I should thank you!”
Woojin breathes in sharply at the proximity and gets a whiff of something distinctly citrus mixed with the scent of flowers and dewy grass, right before an object bounces off his head and straight into his palms. it’s an orange. “What’s this for?” he asks warily, heart jumping to his throat when the other twirls again this time to an upright position.
“Like I said,” says the mage who pretty much just confirmed himself to be the originator of Woojin’s struggles, “this is a thank you for your effort in cutting through the thorn bushes. Don’t worry about it being poisoned! I had one just now and it’s so sweet!”
That really isn’t convincing, Woojin doesn’t say. He simply eyes the orange as if it’s diseased, inciting a pout from the other.
“Do you not like oranges?” he inquires a little despondently. “I guess you can have this highly suspicious apple I picked up from the river.” A quick rifle through the brown cloth sack tied to the branch produces the said apple. It shines a sinister metallic silver and blue. “It’s already been bitten though.” The boy sheepishly turns the apple around to where brilliant blue flesh has been revealed. “By me! I’m still waiting for the side effects.”
“That doesn’t sound very safe,” Woojin points out.
“Neither does jumping into a crocodile infested moat in full armor. You take risks out of duty, I take risks if it means getting the result I want, that’s what life is about,” he says with a wise nod, and then offers the apple once more. “Want it?”
“No, thank you.” Woojin hastily starts peeling the orange and tosses a piece into his mouth.
The boys laughs. “Probably for the best.” A gust of wind shakes a few petals off the branch he’s riding, and they drift around him like gentle snowfall.
Woojin pinches himself out of the daze he feels settling upon him and clears his throat. “So you, uh, you made all this?” he asks, waving his arms around to indicate everything. “Seems like you spent a lot of time making everything… perfect.”
The mage adopts an expression of exuberant pride. “Yes! I’m glad you think so… esteemed knight…?”
“Woojin,” supplies Woojin helpfully, unable to stop himself from grinning when the other lights up.
“Woojin! And I’m Jihoon!” the mage introduces himself with increasing delight. “I’m nineteen and I’ve been allowed by my master to manage this tower alone just these past three months.”
Woojin is bestowed with a smile so bright he almost has to squint through it. “Also nineteen,” he offers lamely.
Jihoon goes bug-eyed. “But you’re already a knight? That’s so young,” he gasps softly. “Everyone else who passed through here even in my master’s time were in their mid-twenties at least.”
“I’ll take that as a compliment,” Woojin says with a chuckle, appreciating the boost to his ego. He did get knighted at a relatively young age, and he’s more than happy that it was all through his own luck and hard work.
Jihoon promptly says, “You should. I feel a little lacking in comparison.” He laughs a bit bashfully, quite a severe contrast against his earlier vibrance. The leaves and flowers on the branch seem to wilt alongside him, and it’s too sad a sight for Woojin to bear on his conscience, which explains why he stretches up to grab hold of Jihoon’s branch, pulling it lower until they’re comfortably eye to eye.
“I hated you so much,” Woojin announces unthinkingly, before Jihoon’s trembling lips and quick avoidance of his gaze makes him realize what that sounds like. “Wait! That came out wrong! I meant—that earlier I was cursing your existence—no, that’s not right either, damn it! What I want to say is, is this!” He points at the peony wall aggressively. “And that!” An angry gesture at the monstrosity that Jihoon keeps calling ‘the thorn bushes’. “And the moat, and that forest!” Suddenly, all the frustration Woojin had kept to himself for lack of someone to rant to comes bursting out. “God, Jihoon, do you know how long it took me to get through all those things? Two weeks. Two weeks, and I haven’t even seen the top of that stupid tower with the prince, all because of this wall. Don’t even get me started on that enchanted forest, because pixies? If I could have slept in that forest with one eye open, I would have. Since when have pixies ever agreed to infest a forest that fairies live in, Jihoon? And you did all this in three months? If you weren’t so pretty, I’d punch you in the face.”
Jihoon turns red from the roots of his hair down to his neck.
Woojin grips the branch and tugs Jihoon even closer. “Sorry for being too informal,” he says in a rough voice. “After I rescue the prince, please listen to what I have to say.”
“The prince…?” Jihoon echoes faintly, and then snaps out of his stupor. He throws his arms onto Woojin’s armored shoulders to stop him from moving away. “The prince! That’s what I came here to tell you!”
Woojin isn’t sure he likes where this is going.
“He got whisked away yesterday afternoon by his childhood friend.”
Yup. There it is.
“It was so romantic,” Jihoon sighs wistfully. “Apparently Jinyoung is the royal adviser’s son and was raised alongside Daehwi in the palace. They told me all about it over tea.”
Two. Weeks.
Wasted.
Woojin runs a hand over his face roughly, fighting the urge to scream. When he lifts up his eyes, however, Jihoon is already on the ground in front of him, standing an inch or two shorter. He’s holding onto his branch with one hand, flowery side up, while the other is being proffered to Woojin.
“I know the prince isn’t here anymore,” Jihoon says, chin lowered shyly in a way that Woojin is beginning to look at with fondness. “But I… have jasmine tea and leftover cookies at home, and I can still listen to what you have to say?”
It’s an offer Woojin finds difficult to refuse, not that he particularly wants to.
He takes Jihoon’s hand, and when Woojin is asked, “How opposed are you to flying?” he answers with a cheeky grin:
“Not at all.”