Chapter Text
“Ma’am, with all due respect, he is a child.”
It’s the first thing that they hear when they enter the association facility. The perfunctory politeness on Choi Jongin’s face wavers and slips, long legs screeching to a sudden halt. They stare at the scene in disbelief.
There was a woman standing in front of the desk, gripping a boy’s wrist so hard her knuckles were bone-white. Jinchul’s eyes are drawn to the purple and yellow bruises that he could barely make out from what little of his skin was exposed. Worryingly, the ones on his neck look like they were from a hand, fingerprints practically wrapped around the circumference like a rope burn despite the obvious effort made in trying to hide them with an old but high collared turtleneck.
In the middle of summer no less, Jinchul thinks and finds his already sour mood plummeting even further.
The woman - short brown hair cropped short, wild eyes and clothes that, while not quite cheap, looked like they’ve seen better days - tugs on the child’s arm and sneers at the attendant.
“I know your policy,” She scoffs and the boy, most likely her son, trips on his feet. Jinchul raises an eyebrow when he sees his shadow flickering, almost as if it was making an effort to catch him, before it reluctantly snaps back, “Minors can be tested as long as they have mana. And this brat,” She pulls again, and this time the boy catches himself on the side of the desk, his eyes wide with fear, “Has plenty. I know you’ve tested children before, some of them as high as a C-rank, and I know that they were paid handsomely.”
Ah, of course. Money. Choi Jongin’s eyes flash red, bright enough to reflect his ire and made only more discernible with the way his lips twist into a contemptuous frown. Admirably enough however, the attendant refuses to budge, coal-grey eyes hardening like diamonds, mouth pursing into a taut line.
“Ma’am, those were high-school teenagers, borderline young adults. And even then, they aren’t allowed on raids unless they have their guardian’s explicit permission,” Her gaze drops to the child, disposition softening as he trembles underneath the weight of her stare. Jinchul wonders what she sees - bruised, terrified, a mother who probably couldn’t care less about a kid who was so tiny he didn’t even reach her ribs - as her eyes flick back up to the woman, not even bothering to conceal the painful disdain on her face, “Your son is barely old enough to go to school.”
The woman ignores her comment, “If it’s permission you need then it’s permission you have. Now test him,” She lifts the child’s arm and shakes him like he was nothing more than a bloody dog, “There’s no reason for you to refuse. Company policy, am I right?”
The attendant’s answering grimace was almost as excruciating as the resulting silence.
“Call the police,” Jinchul swivels to Choi Jongin, a veneer of tightly coiled rage visible from the corners of his mouth, “And your president while you’re at it.”
“Of course,” Jinchul says, taking out his phone, “What are you planning to do?”
Choi Jongin tilts his head towards him, eyes bright and fiery as the mana he kept tucked tightly into his core.
“I’m going to abuse my rank privilege,” He starts, his fury almost palpable, “And then I'm going to kidnap that fucking child.”
—
Beru is not happy, Jinwoo thinks.
Neither is Igris or anyone for that matter, but Jinwoo has no power and he’s certainly not in a position where he could just - run away and never look back. Besides sending them a couple of measly reassurances, hoping that it was enough to soothe their frazzled nerves, Jinwoo was nothing but a sitting duck.
I’m fine, he says, trying to pull back the minuscule quiver in his limbs, It’s okay. Don’t hurt her.
Tusk makes a disgruntled noise in his mind and allows his restlessness to die down despite how begrudgingly he sounded, listening to Jinwoo and complaining to the high heavens while he was at it. It almost makes him smile.
“The test will only last for a couple of minutes. Fifteen at most,” The attendant says stiffly to his mother, “Please wait outside.”
Before his mother could protest or follow them into the adjacent room, the lady attendant steps her foot down, draws the line and tells her, “Wait outside please or I’ll have to call security.”
Mother’s face distorts, her features perverted to the point that it looks a little unnatural, and Jinwoo tries to make himself smaller.
“Why the hell do I have to?” Mother says, teeth sharp and pointed.
“Company policy.” The attendant replies, smiling sharply. The grip on his wrist tightens and mother’s nails dig into the skin hard enough to draw blood.
Jinwoo winces when Beru shrieks, wrath searing through the connection, protective and indignant on his behalf.
Insolent human, Beru’s voice resonates loudly in his head, drowning out his own mother’s complaints, You do not deserve my king’s mercy.
It’s okay, he says to him, Beru, calm. No more pain. I’m okay.
Beru silently retreats to himself, though he does remain steadfast in his resolve; clinging onto his initial burst of outrage, refusing to relinquish his fury and allowing it to simmer on the surface of their bond. Privately, Jinwoo wonders if it makes him a bad person for feeling...pleased about that. Beru’s actions in regards to Jinwoo were often needlessly dramatic, warms him in a way that he could ever effectively articulate, but it never fails to comfort him. More so when Igris, who had chosen to guard the perimeter just in case, radiated nothing but cold disapproval.
The rest of his bonds are no different, clamouring furiously, writhing from where they’d taken refuge in his shadow, so Jinwoo focuses on that feeling instead of the pain ripping through his skin.
“Fine.” Mother hisses, abandoning her hold on Jinwoo, pushing him harshly towards the other woman. The lady attendant steadies him by the shoulders before he could trip and Jinwoo misses the look that flashes on her face when he flinches back at the feeling of another person's hands on him.
It doesn’t hurt, Jinwoo blinks rapidly, marvelling at the foreign sensation.
Refusing to spare his mother any more of her attention, the lady attendant kneels down so that she’s eye to eye with Jinwoo.
“Hi Jinwoo,” She starts, “I’m Seolah-noona. Are you ready to get tested?”
Jinwoo hesitates and then nods.
Gently, like she was purposely projecting her motions, Seolah-noona offers her palm and smiles.
“Don’t worry,” She says, wiggling her fingers, “The test won’t hurt at all.”
Jinwoo stares at the hand in confusion.
“Okay.” He finally says, squirming, peeking up at her from underneath his eyelashes and then looking at the palm in front of him. He twists his hands in the hem of his turtleneck and watches as the smile on her face falters.
What does she want from me, He thinks, biting down on his lips, I - I don’t know what she wants. Beru -
Beru sounded sad when he responds and Jinwoo has no idea why, She’s offering to hold your hand, my liege. So that she may guide you to your destination.
Oh, he thinks, fidgeting, his left hand untangling from his shirt, She won’t hurt me?
I will not let her, my liege, Beru says, seemingly bitter, Not unlike your benefactor.
Warily, he watches her muscles for any signs of movement and, deciding to trust Beru because Beru never lies, Jinwoo reaches out and then places his injured wrist in her hand.
He hears noona’s breath hitch, her eyes shining. Jinwoo frowns.
Did I do something wrong? He asks no one in particular, blinking when instead of clasping around his wrist, she slides her hand upwards and slowly, softly like Jinwoo might break, curls her fingers around his own.
Beru doesn’t answer, and Jinwoo can't quite decipher the concoction of feelings that the other was exuding, too complex for him to effectively unravel.
“Let’s get you tested.” She whispers, guiding him inside.
Jinwoo only nods, heart thumping when the heat from his palms spreads towards the rest of his body.
What a weird feeling, Jinwoo thinks, following behind her clumsily.
Mother never felt this warm.