Chapter Text
It started with a novel.
Kim Rok Soo finally had the day off. He wanted to spend it doing anything that didn’t involve hours hunched over a desk doing paperwork.
He went to the library and picked out a book.
A real, hardcover book—with the smell of ink and paper clinging to it. It was your typical fantasy novel. There’s a hero, some side characters—and a decent plot.
But somehow that wasn’t what intrigued him the most.
No, [The Birth of a Hero] was a good read, but there was one character in particular who stood out to him. Kim Rok Soo had no idea why.
It was a one-off villain—the type to push the protagonist into action, then vanish. Yet for some reason—one Rok Soo couldn’t explain, no matter how hard he tried—the man consumed his thoughts.
And Kim Rok Soo was by no means obsessive. He found little interest in anything other than money.
So why, then, was he spending hours hunched over a desk again, flipping through page after page of this novel, searching for any mention of a single man?
Cale Henituse.
Hours passed before he knew it. He’d read volumes in search of one character, one person, something, anything, and nothing.
Just like that, a day was gone. Gone and he was unable to retrieve it.
He should have been mad. But at whom? Himself or the man he got lost in these pages for?
“…Have I lost it?” He muttered aloud, quietly closing the book in his hands with an almost incredulous expression.
Rok Soo wiped his hands down his face with a sigh. Hours passed. He could see it from the now orange sky and the headache he felt from having done nothing productive all day.
“A day off…” He laughed almost bitterly, cringing at the way he analyzed and obsessed over every detail.
This was one of the rare times that Rok Soo was thankful that hardly anyone visited the library.
Still, upon reaching his modest apartment, slipping off his shoes and even taking a seat on his couch, Kim Rok Soo’s mind reeled with thoughts—speculation about that guy.
“…Cale… Henituse…” He murmured, sleep slowly dragging him into the land of dreams against his better judgment to eat before bed.
Well, Rok Soo hardly ever had dreams.
Though this one was rather nice—at least as a feeling. The feel of grass against his legs, the vivid sound of birds, and the warmth of the sun against his skin as it filtered through the tree leaves. The feel of the wind… the sound of humming—
‘Wait a minute…’
He groaned softly, the feel of rough wood pressing uncomfortably against his neck.
“Cale… Henituse…” he muttered yet again, eyes squeezed shut like he could force himself back to sleep—though he was in a dream so would it still count as sleeping?
“That is my name.”
The humming stopped, and with it the voice of a man. Sly, smooth with a hint of brashness that hardly felt genuine.
“You keep moaning my name in your sleep,” the man said. “But I don’t recall either of us having met.”
Rok Soo froze.
One: he wasn’t in his apartment.
Two: someone else was here.
Three: that someone had just called himself Cale Henituse.
So of course, like any rational person faced with an impossible situation, he opened his eyes to sneak a peek.
And immediately forgot how to breathe.
Every word that he could have said died before becoming one proper coherent thought. The pair of eyes staring back at him was cold, dismissive with a hidden calculation that could easily be passed off as superior judgment. But the person who held those eyes was beautiful—handsome—he was utterly magnificent.
“And the dead rise,” the stranger said flatly, rolling his eyes. His legs were crossed, expression morphing to boredom as he stared back at Rok Soo.
Oddly, he’s dressed casually, too casually to be the same man who was described as only wearing the finest jewels and expensive tailored outfits. A white blouse and black trousers were all he chose to wear in the middle of a forest.
“Since you’re up,” he added dryly. “I’d appreciate it if you left already.”
Cale(?) was the first to look away, his gaze moving to something carefully tied onto a tree branch.
Kim Rok Soo’s racing heart dropped to his stomach.
His eyes roamed over the figure currently sitting on a lone tree stump in the middle of an abandoned clearing within a forest that rarely saw visitors.
Red rimmed eyes, clearly from sobbing, a finished bottle of wine and the man who claimed to be Cale wasn’t wearing shoes. They had been sitting neatly beside the tree stump as if abandoned by their owner. The man before him wasn’t fiercely arrogant or trashy. He looked broken and desperate for a quick fix.
The realization hit like a hard punch to the ribs.
Rok Soo scrambled to sit up, wincing at the ache in his neck from being slumped against a tree. He was at a loss for words but tried to gather his voice.
“hn…Cale—“
“Ugh, gods!”
Cale groaned loudly, pinching the bridge of his nose in annoyance.
“If you say my name again I won’t know whether to be flattered or have you charged for sexual harassment…”
For a moment, Rok Soo looked annoyed. He was stuck in a strange world—inside a novel—and being threatened with sexual harassment charges by a minor villain.
‘Crazy.’
He didn’t say anything, but he also didn’t move to leave, like Cale had asked.
Instead, Rok Soo stood up, stretching his shoulders with a lazy roll. They made eye contact again—this time, Cale mirrored his expression of mild irritation.
“Are you lost?” Cale asked, his tone edging toward hostile. “Need directions?”
“What am I supposed to call you, then?” Rok Soo took a step forward. “Honey?”
The expression of utter disgust on Cale’s face almost—almost—made Rok Soo flinch.
Cale didn’t bother hiding his reaction.
Cale’s brow twitched. ‘Was this man actually serious?’
‘Maybe he wants me to press charges,’ Cale thought, giving the stranger a slow once-over.
An older gentleman—hard to tell at first glance, but at least in his thirties.
Handsome face. Broad shoulders. Deep voice.
‘No ring on his finger,’ Cale noticed absently. A mundane observation, but one his brain chose to make anyway. ‘Could be divorced.’
‘Why the hell is he napping out here of all places?’
Cale was still mid-thought when he felt it—a sudden touch brushing against his bare foot. He jolted and instinctively kicked. His foot hit the stranger’s knee with a solid thud.
“Mmgh—” The man grunted, tightening his grip around Cale’s foot.
Which, to Cale’s horror, was now being held in one hand. While the other held his shoe.
The man glared up at him like he was the one being weird.
“…Why are you looking at me like that?” Cale frowned, unnerved.
“Why’d you kick me?” Rok Soo shot back, still fixated on trying to get Cale’s shoe back on.
Cale blinked. “Do you sexually harass everyone you meet in the woods?” His voice was in utter disbelief.
Cale pulled his foot back halfway, then stopped.
“First of all,” he says slowly, “you don’t just shove a foot into a shoe unless they’re sandals. That’s barbaric.”
Rok Soo blinks. “What?”
“My socks,” Cale gestures vaguely at the pair of neatly folded socks stuffed into the shoe still sitting beside the tree stump. “If you’re going to play dutiful servant, do it properly.”
Kim Rok Soo frowned, but didn't bother looking up. He carefully slipped on both socks, watching Cale flex his toes under the soft fabric. Then went on the first shoe.
For such an arrogant person Cale hadn't complained about the slowness once.
He waited with patience that most wouldn't expect, lightly tapping Rok Soo’s thigh to a beat that Rok Soo couldn't recognize—most likely due to this being a world he wasn't exactly from.
Kim Rok Soo suspected Cale was attempting to annoy him. Maybe to make him leave.
He didn't comment.
The tapping only stopped when Rok Soo grabbed his other foot and began to slip on the second shoe. This time he tried to make light conversation.
“So…” He began, glancing up at Cale who had been staring up at that rope—no, it was best to call it what it was.
A noose.
“What brought you to a forest in the middle of the day?”
Cale gazed down at Rok Soo who had just finished with his shoes. “Is it not obvious?” he asked with an almost snarky tone. “It’s secluded and hard to find unless you know what to look for. No one would come looking for me.”
Rok Soo’s jaw tightened. ‘That’s usually what people say when they want to disappear…’
Rok Soo decided against responding. He wasn't good at this kind of thing. But at least now he knew why Cale disappeared from the story. He squeezed Cale’s foot again and this time Cale kicked him, softer than before but still a kick.
“Why do you keep doing that?” Cale asked with a raised brow, resting his foot on Rok Soo’s knee. He didn't receive an answer and both his shoes were now on but this strange man was still kneeling in front of him.
“…Are you waiting for a reward?”
Rok Soo’s ears perked up immediately. “Yeah. Reward me.”
‘Preferably money.’
Maybe it's the peaceful nature of the situation. Maybe it was because he didn’t feel judged in the slightest. Or perhaps because the man was so honest but Cale laughed. A gentle noise whose tone made it all too apparent to Rok Soo, that he was in the presence of a rich man. No normal, minimum wage working citizen laughs like that.
“A reward, huh?” he repeated, tilting his head, and for a moment, Rok Soo could’ve sworn the sun hit his cheekbones at an unfair angle.
“You want compensation for helping me put on my shoes?”
“Yes,” Kim Rok Soo responded flatly. “That’s labor.”
Cale couldn't argue with that logic. All workers deserve fair compensation for their services. But Cale could feel a migraine that he most certainly did not want to deal with alone forming.
“Mm, oh my,” Cale sighed, dramatically placing the back of his hand against his forehead like a fainting noblewoman. “You know, most people hardly have the gall to make requests of me, let alone demand compensation for such a meager task.”
“You’re welcome to be barefoot again,” Rok Soo offered.
Cale grinned like a smug cat. “You’re funny,” Rok Soo tensed, bracing for whatever nonsense would come next. “That’s dangerous. The gods love mortals with a sense of humor.”
Rok Soo would have asked what the hell Cale meant by that but Cale had flinched as if in pain. It wasn't dramatic and so sudden that it’d be hard to say he was merely acting. He grimaced, body tensing as if he got jabbed in the ribs.
“Ugh—” he exhaled sharply, raising a hand to his face.
Blood spilled from his nose suddenly. Cale made a move to wipe it away with his hand only to hesitate and look at his hand in disgust.
There was no way he almost wiped blood away with his hand.
Cale pulled out an embroidered handkerchief from his pocket. He dabbed delicately at his nose with the sort of practiced elegance only someone used to bleeding like this could manage. Not frantic. Not even particularly concerned. Just… mildly annoyed.
Kim Rok Soo didn’t know what to say, so he said nothing. That, apparently, was the correct answer. Because Cale, still pressing the now-stained handkerchief to his nose, sighed.
“Would you shut up?” Cale’s voice is quiet and painfully annoyed. “One at a time.”
Kim Rok Soo fixed on him with a perplexed stare and rested his hand against Cale’s knee.
“Who… are you talking to?” He asks, searching Cale’s face, noticing the black veins crawling up his neck to his face. Strange. ‘Those weren’t there before.’
Cale opened his mouth to speak, wincing again as the black veins spread further along his body. “Rock?” Cale questioned hoarsely. “Rok?
Rok Soo froze. Body tensing while blinking up at Cale. Did he hear that right?
“Rok Soo? Ah, your name is Kim Rok Soo?” Cale asked, tilting his head down to look at Rok Soo’s face. He ended up on the receiving end of the meanest look Rok Soo could muster in that moment.
It seemed to do the trick as Cale physically recoiled, though that could have been another instance of whatever was affecting him.
Rok Soo’s grip on Cale’s knee tightened and Cale winced, kicking him again with a glare. “That hurts.” He spoke casually, like the entire situation was normal and Rok Soo wasn’t looking at him weighing the odds of walking away from a murder scene.
“Would you relax,” Cale muttered. “I was going to ask you myself but they decided to tell me instead.”
“They?”
“The god that brought you here, obviously.”
Kim Rok Soo found himself to be a reasonable individual. Yet he always managed to get himself into the most unreasonable situations. This situation was no different, this strange noble looked as if he’d pass out at any moment, while simultaneously looking like he’d bash his own head in.
Rok Soo decided at that moment it was better not to ask any questions, especially when Cale already didn’t care to hide this… ‘ability’.
‘He and the crazy priestess could probably be good friends.’ Rok Soo thought mildly, his knee now hurting from being in this awkward kneeling position for so long.
Another sigh and Cale closes his eyes in frustration. “Yes, I know,” he muttered, finally wiping away the last of the spilling blood from his nose. It was an action that Rok Soo, unconsciously, noticed was incredibly elegant. For a character that was described as trash, the real version was a juxtaposition to his novel self. They sat in silence. Just the wind and the trees and the blood drying against white fabric.
Eventually, Cale broke it. “I didn’t bring anything to pay you with,” he said casually, returning to the earlier conversation like nothing had happened.
Rok Soo’s brow twitched.
“But I can offer you something better than money,” Cale said, voice quiet. It carried in the stillness of the forest, sounded heavier than it should have.
“A job.”
Silence.
Rok Soo blinked slowly. “That’s your idea of a reward?”
“Yes. Consider it an offer from a divine favorite.”
“…Divine favorite?”
“They’re all very fond of me,” he said, as if speaking of a nuisance. “Unfortunately.”
Rok Soo glanced down at the stained handkerchief, the bruising veins on Cale’s skin, and the way he swayed slightly where he sat. “It doesn’t look like they treat you well.”
Cale smirked. “It seems like even a stranger can see the divine don’t treat their pets well, tsk, tsk.”
Rok Soo didn’t laugh.
Cale’s expression didn’t falter, still looking smug and arrogant despite the previous pain. “I’m offering a little more than just a job. I can give you protection, information, and funding.” Cale drawls. “There’s a war coming, and I’m sure you don’t want to get caught in the crossfire.”
Rok Soo’s fingers flexed slightly. “You’re bribing me?”
“It’s only a bribe if it doesn’t work.” Cale tilted his head looking even more smug than ever. “But… seeing your expression…” He leaned in and Rok Soo squeezed his knee again, though he didn’t receive a kick as a reprimand this time. “We have a deal don’t we?”
Kim Rok Soo gritted his teeth. He wanted to say no. He wanted to hit Cale for being infuriatingly elegant and as arrogant as described. He hated how he was going to ask for a job and Cale beat him to it with added benefits.
This world was doomed. That’s what he read before this but right now, Rok Soo’s best chance at survival wasn’t running. Staying by Cale’s side with stable income, shelter, and supplies. Even if that meant wearing a leash.
Rok Soo nodded.
Cale frowned, looking disappointed. “That’s it?”
“You’re annoyingly dramatic,” Rok Soo said flatly. “but you haven’t lied. Yet.”
Cale tilted his head.
“And,” Rok Soo added. “I know how wealthy the Henituse family is.”
A beat of silence passed and Cale’s smug grin shifted.
“All contracts include paid vacation time and sick leave,” Cale offered casually. “Holiday bonuses, which include birthdays, dental, and health care services by the estate physician. The works.”
Rok Soo stared.
“…Really?”
“Of course, happy employees make the estate move far smoother.”
Suddenly, Rok Soo felt less displeased. He stood to his feet, taking a few steps away and already thinking of the terms he wanted to add.
“We can discuss further details of your contract at my home,” Cale tilted his head, then moved to stand, except—
His knees buckled.
He didn’t make a sound when he fell. Rok Soo only noticed him when Cale collapsed against his leg. Cale’s hands clung to Rok Soo’s leg, as the rest of him trembled, unable to move properly.
“Damn it,” he hissed under his breath, palms scraping against the ground. “Of course—of course—now my legs stop working.”
He wasn’t even bleeding as badly as he used to.
Without a word, Rok Soo crouched, grabbed Cale by the collar, and hauled him up.
“Hey—!” Cale gasped, the air leaving his lungs as Rok Soo slung him over one shoulder like a sack of potatoes.
He gave a half-hearted kick, already resigning himself to the indignity. “What the hell—”
“Shut up.” Rok Soo sighed.
“You could have at least warned me,” Cale grumbled.
“Didn’t have time,” Rok Soo’s lips twitched, looking faintly like a smile. “You were about to kiss the ground. I’d be a bad employee if I let my boss look so undignified.”
Cale wiggled, kicking him again.
“I’ll dock your pay.”
Rok Soo didn't respond but his arm holding Cale tightened. He pressed forward through the forest, stepping over fallen logs and branches, avoiding the poison oak Cale so graciously pointed out as he almost touched it.
After some time, Cale had gone limp, and Rok Soo assumed Cale had fallen asleep. He was wrong and his heart tried to run away when Cale suddenly spoke up to point out the quickest route out of the forest. He pointed out odd details, like a rock that was shaped like a bunny, or an oak tree whose bark grew in spirals. Details that only someone who walked this path a lot would notice.
They broke through the edge of the woods after what felt like an hour, though the sky proved it was still a few hours past midday.
Cale yawned, shifting and finding the crook of Rok Soo’s neck and slumping into it. His breath was warm through the fabric of Rok Soo’s turtleneck.
Rok Soo adjusted his grip without pause, one arm curled easily under Cale’s thighs and the other steadying him across the back. Despite the dead weight he carried, his steps were smooth, unhurried. If he minded the eyes starting to turn toward them as they approached town, he didn’t show it.
The main road was busy—merchants and villagers moving carts of goods or lingering around a fountain. But the moment they noticed the pair walking in from the forest, voices dropped into hushed tones.
“Is that…?”
“No way. Is he dead?”
“Probably, blacked out drunk.”
“Who’s the man carrying him? A mercenary?”
Cale could hear them all. It wasn't like anyone was ever secretive when gossiping about him.
Rumors had followed him for years. He wasn’t surprised they hoped he was dead, nor did he care.
Feeling petty, he looped his arms around Rok Soo’s neck with a dramatic sigh, shifting just enough that Rok Soo had to pause and adjust. One arm swept beneath Cale’s knees, and just like that, the hold became a full bridal carry. He was, unfortunately for their sorry asses, alive.
Someone at a fruit stand yelped.
Rok Soo looked down, concerned for half a second before realizing what was happening. “You’re enjoying this,” he muttered.
Cale hummed against his neck. “They think I’m dead,” he said, voice rough but light. “I figured it’d be nice to disappoint. I’m good at that sort of thing.”
He moved slowly, deliberately looping his arms around Rok Soo’s neck. His hands were cold, fingers brushing lightly against the nape of Rok Soo’s neck as he fixed the collar.
Around them, whispers grew louder. Cale could have made out their conversations, had he actually cared to pay attention. Instead, he gave a sleepy sigh and adjusted how his head rested.
Rok Soo tilted his head toward him, chin brushing against Cale’s hair. “…Where do you live?”
Cale frowned.
Then, with exaggerated effort, which stemmed from genuine lethargy, Cale lifted his head and stared at him. Deadpan. Right in the eyes. So suddenly Rok Soo stopped in his tracks.
They stared at each other. For too long. Long enough for it to become a moment. Long enough for someone on the street to whisper, with awe and disbelief—
“Is he—are they…
Cale smirked.
He tilted his chin toward the biggest, most opulent estate in sight. A manor on the hill, that spoke of nothing short of old money.
“There,” he said, smug. “Was it not obvious? That’s mine.”
Rok Soo made a noise of acknowledgement and resumed walking.
He adjusted his grip—just slightly—his hand shifting higher on Cale’s thigh to keep him steady. People noticed that too. A few of the older vendors quieted, exchanging glances.
The hush of the crowd didn’t register at first. He was too busy minding Cale’s head, adjusting the angle so it didn’t tilt too far back.
That was all. Just keeping him comfortable. Just not letting him get jostled. Just…
His hand settled at the curve of Cale’s thigh, steadying him from slipping.
It looked tender. People noticed. A few merchants went quiet. A woman with a basket stopped mid-step, her gaze sharp with curiosity.
That man wasn’t a mercenary.
He wasn’t being rough with the Young Master.
And Cale—Cale Henituse, the drunk, the waste of noble blood, the one who’d once shattered a bottle over a bandit’s head in front of a tavern—he was resting. With his arms slung around the man’s neck.
This was a good thing. Cale was quiet, peaceful, not causing chaos on the streets. And that’s all they cared for.