always with me

Posted originally on the Archive of Our Own at http://archiveofourown.org/works/18477904.

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences

Archive Warning: No Archive Warnings Apply
Category: M/M
Fandom: ASTRO (Band), Sen to Chihiro no Kamikakushi | Spirited Away
Relationship: Lee Dongmin | Cha Eunwoo/Moon Bin
Character: Moon Bin, Lee Dongmin | Cha Eunwoo, Kim Myungjun | MJ, Kamajii
(Sen to Chihiro no Kamikakushi), Yubaaba (Sen to Chihiro no
Kamikakushi), Zeniiba (Sen to Chihiro no Kamikakushi), Spirited Away
Characters, Bin’s Parents
Additional Tags: Light Angst, Fluff and Angst, Minor Violence, Hurt/Comfort, Magic,
Spirited Away AU, Bin is a troubled teenager, Bin as Chihiro, Dongmin
as Haku, Myungjun as Lin, Minhyuk is mentioned, Romance, Witchcraft,
Shapeshifting, Dragons, Bad Parenting, Warm and Fuzzy Feelings
Stats: Published: 2019-04-16 Chapters: 1/? Words: 6603

always with me
by kyuupo

Summary

Moon Bin knew that exploring the abandoned amusement park was a bad idea, especially
when his parents fall victim to a terrible curse. Luckily, a mysterious boy named Eunwoo is
there to help.

(DISCONTINUED)

Moon Bin is sprawled across the backseat of his parent’s moving car. Dozens of cardboard boxes
are squished into the corner, threatening to topple over with each bump in the road. The glow of the
steadily setting sun filters through the window, illuminating the card in Bin’s hands. He runs his
fingertips over the ink once more.

‘I’ll miss you, Bin. Good luck at your new school. Your best friend, Minhyuk.’

A plastic bag crinkles as Bin reaches inside for another chocolate bar. A parting gift from his
classmates, Minhyuk said, but Bin knows that it was all his doing. His class couldn’t care less
about his departure; he was, as his teacher put it, a disruptive student. It didn’t bother Bin. As long
as he had Minhyuk, he was content. He didn’t care about his grades. He was satisfied.

Except now, as he tosses the chocolate wrapper onto the floor, he realises that he no longer has that
comfort. Not anymore.

“Bin?” his father calls out from the driver’s seat. “Are you awake? We’re almost there.”
“This really is in the middle of nowhere…” he hears his mother remark. “I’m going to have to go to
the next town over to shop.”

“We’ll just have to learn to like it. Look, Bin! There’s your new school.”

Bin pushes himself up with a sigh and peers out of the window. He takes one glance at the
disappearing school building and deflates in his seat. “It’s gonna stink.”

“It doesn’t look so bad. Hold onto your card, I’m opening up the window,” his mother says. Bin
shoves his card into the back pocket of his jeans. Wind begins to sift through his messy brown hair
and cool his cheeks. “And quit whining, Bin, you’re seventeen. Act your age.”

With hopes to avoid another argument, Bin purses his lips together and turns his head to watch the
houses whiz past. The car turns right, heading up a steep hill that twists and curves. Clusters of
bright suburbia are the only thing that Bin can see until, after a couple of minutes, the trunk of a
ginormous tree blocks his vision. Bin blinks, startled, and sits upright to get his bearings.

“Where are we?”

“I think I’ve taken the wrong turn.” His father sticks his head out of the window. “This can’t be
right…”

“Look, there’s our house!” his mother says. “It’s that blue one on the end.”

“Oh, you’re right. I must’ve missed the turn-off.”

Bin cranes his neck and squints. The house stands upon a grassy slope, its pale blue paint gleaming
in the sunlight, noticeable even from a distance. Bin glares at it. He misses his old neighbourhood,
the place he considers home. This house isn’t a home. It’s just a building.

He wishes that his parents didn’t overreact so often. When they heard of Bin’s second suspension
into the term, they were livid, demanding Bin behave himself or there’d be severe consequences.
Bin had heard it all before; he made light of the threat and, in his blissful ignorance, got into a fight
with another student. A week of suspension later, and his parents drop the big announcement; a
brand-new home, a five hour drive away. A fresh start, they said. Another chance.

Bin snorted at this. He knew his parents were just embarrassed that his school kept calling them
about his bad behaviour.

“This road should get us there…” his father was saying, peering over the steering wheel. His
mother sighs.

“Honey, don’t take a shortcut. You always get us lost.”

“Trust me, it’s gonna work.”

Something in the grass catches Bin’s attention. A cluster of stones are gathered at the base of the
tree, spilling over bulging roots and covered in moss. They resemble tiny homes of sorts. Before he
can study them further, the car grumbles to life and begins to move deeper into the woods. Even
though Bin kind of despises his parents at the moment, he can’t help the curiosity that bubbles
under his skin.

“Hey, did you see those stones? What are they?”

His mother glances at her son briefly to answer, “They’re shrines. Some people think little spirits
live there.”

Spirits. The concept almost makes Bin laugh. If he were ten years younger, he would have been
entertained by the idea of spiritual beings. Ghosts. Monsters. Creatures that only exist in movies
and bedtime stories. But now, as the car turns a corner and they drive through the woods in silence,
he can’t find it in himself to believe in such things again.

The car’s tires collide with a bump in the road. Bin frowns. With each passing minute, the bush
grows thicker and there’s not an exit in sight.

“I think we’re lost.”

His father brushes him off. “We’re fine! Quit worrying, Bin. I’ve got four-wheel drive.”

He picks up speed and the car swerves around another sharp corner. The ground beneath them
evolves from dirt to rough debris. Bin glances out the window and notices peculiar statues littered
throughout the trees, the faces carved into the stones smiling at him from the shadows. Bin swivels
around to take a better look at one, but a dip in the road sends him hurtling into the stack of boxes,
making him yelp.

“Honey, honey, honey!” his mother yells, grasping for the overhead handle. “Slow down! You’re
gonna kill us!”

His father’s eyes widen when he spots something ahead. “What’s that?!”

He slams on the breaks. Bin lurches forward, gripping onto the front seat as the vehicle slows to a
complete stop. When it seems safe to move again, Bin slowly lifts his head and peeks over his
father’s shoulder. One of the stone statues he saw in the forest is planted in the middle of the road,
and a little past the statue is a tall red building fitted with a gaping tunnel.

“What’s this old building?” Bin asks. His father steps out of the car.

“Looks like an entrance.”

“Honey, get back in the car! We’re going to be late!” his mother calls, sticking her head out of the
window. Bin ignores her and hops out of his seat, taking the opportunity to stretch his sore limbs.
“Bin! Oh, for heaven’s sake…”

Bin walks over to his father, who’s standing by the entrance of the tunnel, patting the structure.

“This building’s not old—it’s fake!” He smiles at Bin. “These stones are just made of plaster.”

Bin hums and looks at the tunnel. His ears pick up on the howling of the wind as it moves through
the shaft, ruffling his shirt and making the fallen leaves at his feet dance. It’s like the wind’s
pulling us in, he thinks.

His mother—having reluctantly left the car—walks over. “What is it?”

“Come on, let’s go in,” Bin’s father says, grinning at his wife, “I wanna see what’s on the other
side.”

Bin groans. “Can’t we just turn around? We’ve been driving for hours. I’m tired.”

“Don’t be such a chicken, Binnie.”

Bin cringes at the nickname. For once, his mother appears to be taking his side when she says,
“The movers will get to our house before we do.”

“It’s alright, they’ve got the keys,” his father counters. “They can start without us.”

She gnaws on her lower lip, then sighs.

“Alright… Just a quick look.”

Bin glances between his parents in disbelief. “Seriously? Mum, come on.”

They both ignore him, his father disappearing into the tunnel. His mother follows, but not before
turning her head briefly to chastise her son. “If you’re going to be difficult, then just wait in the car.
We won’t be long.”

Bin glances over his shoulder at the ominous statue. The carved face grins at him. Bin, overcome
with an odd sense of dread, shivers and jogs to catch up with his parents.

His father smiles at him triumphantly. “Watch your step.” His voice echoes.

Bin drags his feet behind his parents. The light at the end of the tunnel grows bigger with each
passing second. After a minute or so, the family emerges, and Bin finds himself in what appears to
be a neglected church. Wooden benches are scattered throughout the chamber, and rays of light
filter through various stained-glass windows lined up above. Bin soaks up each detail hungrily.

“What is this place?” he wonders aloud.

“Oh.” His mother puts her hand to her ear, her face lighting up. “Do you hear that?”

Bin listens in; he blocks out the rhythmic tapping of water dripping from the ceiling, and he hears
it.

“It’s a train,” he remarks in surprise. He frowns. “That’s funny… I don’t remember seeing a station
anywhere near town.”

“Let’s see if we can find it, then. We must be close.” His father proceeds to exit the building, his
mother following obediently. She was never the thrill-seeking woman. Bin takes a fleeting look
back at the tunnel before tailing after them, remembering the statue at the entrance; a warning.

Outside of the building, a grassy plain awaits. Uneasiness forgotten, Bin surveys the area in
amazement. Lush green grass spreads out as far as the eye can see, and odd rock formations are
dispersed throughout the field, along with a couple of run-down cottages. Bin’s eyes follow a dirt
track. It leads to a clump of colourful buildings in the distance. Wind rustles his hair and clothing.

“I knew it.”

Bin raises his eyebrows at his father. “Knew what?”

“It’s an abandoned theme park. See?” The stout man looks up at the top of the building. Bin lifts
his head and spots a tall clock structure protruding from the roof. The hands are stuck in time.
“They built them everywhere in the early nineties. Then the economy went bad, and they all went
bankrupt. This must be one of them.”

Transfixed, Bin stares at the building, hoping to engrave the picture into his memory. When he
blinks and turns away, he finds his parents already heading further into the field.

“Yah! Where are you going?” he shouts. His question goes unanswered, and he grumbles to
himself. “So much for a quick look. Traitors…”

As Bin goes to take a step, he’s shoved forward by a strong breeze that pulses through the tunnel.
He stumbles, leaves slapping him in the face and catching in his hair, and he glares at the tunnel.
The breeze—now violent in nature—continues, and the building wails as if in pain. Bin’s eyes go
round with fear. He gulps and runs up the path to meet his parents.

“Did you two just hear that?” he asks. He risks a glance over his shoulder. “The building. It was…
It’s like it was moaning or something.”

“Don’t be ridiculous, Bin, it’s just the wind,” his mother says dismissively. She closes her eyes and
takes a deep breath, a smile gracing her petite face. “Oh, what a beautiful place! We should have
brought our lunch here, then we could’ve had a picnic.”

Bin shoves his hands in his pockets. He knows what he heard, and he can’t shake off the feeling
that this place is more than its beautiful landscapes let on. Something about the creepy statues and
neglected buildings make the hairs stand up on the back of Bin’s neck. He wants nothing more
than to flush his dignity down the drain and go back to the car, but Bin knows he’ll never hear the
end of the teasing from his parents.

So, he presses on reluctantly, lingering behind his parents, on high alert for the first sign of danger.
After a few minutes, he almost bumps into his mother, who’s come to a sudden halt. A thin,
trickling steam blocks the way, crammed with large rocks that allow little water to flow through.
The formation stretches on for miles on either side; even if he squints, Bin can’t see where the
rocky bed ends.

“They were planning to put a river here,” his father says like the know-it-all he is. He steps atop
one of the boulders and holds a hand out for his wife, who takes it and crosses also. He then sniffs
the air. “Hey, you smell that?” Another sniff. “Something smells delicious.”

“Yeah, and I’m starving,” Bin’s mother says. His father grins.

“Maybe this theme park is still in business. Let’s go check it out!”

Bin gapes at the pair as they cross the stream. His expression then drops, and he mutters to himself,
“So much for moving into our new house.”

“Bin, hurry it up!”

He musters the nastiest glare he can and aims it at his mother’s retreating back. “I’m coming!” Bin
hops across each flat rock. His father is a fast man when in search for a bite to eat.

Bin clambers up stone steps after his parents, glancing down at a mossy statue of a smiling toad as
he passes it. He takes stock of his surroundings. They twist and turn throughout an unusual
marketplace, filled to the brim with restaurants, their faded paint peeling with the product of time.
Lanterns hang overhead, blowing in the wind, waiting patiently for daylight to fizzle out. Each
shop is empty. Each sign is written in a foreign language.

Apprehension crawls up Bin’s spine like a hungry spider in search for prey.

“How strange… They’re all Japanese restaurants!” his mother says, breaking the silence. Bin jogs
a little to catch up with the woman; the thick, chilling atmosphere turned his legs to jelly. It also
makes his tongue sharper than usual.

“We haven’t seen a single person, and you’re worried about the food? Incredible.”
She narrows her eyes. “Watch your attitude, Bin.”

Bin falls into a bitter silence. Up ahead, his father hits the jackpot. “There it is!” He runs to a
restaurant eagerly and waves his arms. “Hey! I found it!”

Bin pauses, impressed but not surprised that his father managed to locate a restaurant by
completely relying on his olfactory senses. His mother lights up and rushes over to her husband.
Bin hesitantly makes his way over to the both of them.

His father pokes his head out of the stall, “Hey, you gotta see this. In here.”

Bin’s mother takes a seat inside. Bin hovers outside of the stall awkwardly, growing restless as
each minute in the strange amusement park ticks by. As the sun sinks lower in the sky, a soft
breeze picks up. Bin shivers and rubs his arm. His eyes dart left and right. No one is here.

“Hello in there?” his father calls, nosing around inside the restaurant. “Does anybody work here?”

His mother swivels in her stool to coax her son inside. “Come in, Bin. It looks delicious!”

Bin’s stomach growls and his mouth waters, but he says, “I’ll pass.”

His father continues searching for the owner of the establishment. “Anybody?”

“Don’t worry, honey. We can pay the bill when they get back.”

“Good plan. Hey, that looks great…”

“I wonder what this is called?” Bin watches his mother pluck a piece of food from a gigantic bowl
in front of her. She takes a bite and her eyes widen. Mouth full, she turns and exclaims, “Oh, it’s
delicious! Bin, you have to taste this!”

“I don’t want any,” Bin snaps, agitated. His stomach protests painfully, and he tries not to notice.
“Can we just go? We’re gonna get in trouble.”

“Stop worrying, Binnie!” his father says, stopping at each bowl to fill up three plates with Japanese
cuisine. “We’ll be fine. I’ve got credit cards and cash.”

Bin’s mother tears into a piece of chicken. “Bin, you have to try this! It’s so tender!”

Bin glowers at the pair. His parents choose to neglect their son in favour of feasting on the wide
selection of food, shovelling grub into their mouths as if they’ve been starved for weeks. Resisting
the urge to stamp his feet, Bin huffs and storms away from the restaurant.

Now on his lonesome, Bin looks around. A small red sculpture up ahead captures his attention.
Curious, he edges towards it, climbing up a set of stairs to reach the peculiar formation. It appears
to be a sign—another that Bin cannot read, as it’s in Japanese. He runs his hand over the red wood,
intrigued, and then he glances to the right and double-takes. His eyes go round.

Up ahead lies a wide bridge. Polished floorboards gleam under the setting sun, its railings coated
with a splash of bright red paint. The bridge leads to a beautiful temple of some kind, towering over
the bonsai trees embellishing its traditional garden. A steel pipe stands tall at its left, coughing out
steady puffs of grey smoke. After a moment, Bin recognises the temple.

“It’s a bathhouse.” He walks over to the bridge quietly. Hot water gushes out of the building,
adding extra flair to the decorative garden. The many windows rattle noisily; a sign of life, Bin
considers. “What’s it doing in the middle of a theme park?”

Bin perks up when he hears the familiar sound of a train. Following the sound, he walks to the
right of the bridge and peers over the wooden railing. He catches sight of the train emerging from a
tunnel below, and then it slips away from his vision as it travels under the bridge. Bin dashes over
to the opposite railing to see where it was heading, lurching precariously over the wooden beams.

A prickle on the back of his neck; he’s being watched. His breath catches in his throat. His
heartbeat lurches into overdrive and his palms begin to sweat. Slowly, he turns his head…

And locks eyes with a boy so handsome that he forgets why he was scared in the first place.

Caught like a deer in headlights, the stranger’s dark eyes are wide in alarm. Bin rakes his eyes over
the strange clothing he adorns. A white kariginu—a cloak worn by the Japanese, Bin recalls
learning in a boring history lesson—with a blue kimono underneath, blue trousers and a purple
sash that hugs tight around the waist. Black hair falls in soft wisps over his forehead. Something
about him strikes Bin with a peculiar sense of nostalgia, familiarity—has he met this stranger
before?

The boy’s shocked gaze turns icy cold. “You shouldn’t be here.” He takes a step forward. Bin
blinks, startled out of his reverie. Despite the Japanese shops in the area, the boy speaks Korean.
“You’re in danger. Get out of here, now!”

Dread washes over him once again. Bin splutters a weak, “What?”

“It’s almost night. Hurry, leave before it gets dark!”

As if prompted, clouds begin to shield the disappearing sun, shrouding Bin and the stranger in
darkness. The lanterns at the entrance of the bathhouse glow to life. The boy follows Bin’s gaze
and glances back over his shoulder.

“They’re lighting the lamps,” he murmurs. He turns and begins pushing Bin away from the bridge;
frightened and confused, Bin is putty in his hands. “Get out of here! You’ve got to get across the
river! Go, I’ll distract them!”

Bin stumbles forward but turns to catch a final glimpse of the boy. He’s facing the bathhouse,
shaping a foreign gesture with his left hand—then he releases a huff of breath, and white petals
flutter from his curled thumb and forefinger.

“Now I’m hallucinating,” Bin says under his breath, turning to scramble away. “I’ve gotta get out
of here.” He hurries past the red sign and down the steep stone steps. The lanterns drooping from
above begin to flicker as he runs past restaurants and statues, illuminating the cobblestone
pathways with an eerie red glow.

Bin halts at an intersection and squints into the shadows, trying to remember which direction he
came from. Rubbing his eyes, he looks around frantically, searching for any familiar sign, shop or
path can lead him to his parents. However, what he sees is not guidance, but big black blobs that
start to roam the streets.

Bin tries to blink them away from his vision. After a fruitless attempt, he turns a corner and makes
out the distant figures of his parents, eating at the same stall they had ditched him for. Overcome
with relief, he hurries over.

“Mum! Dad!” If they hear him, they make no move to show it. Bin yanks his father’s shirt. “Quit
eating! We need to get out of here!”
In place of his father, a fat, drooling pig turns around, dressed up in his father’s clothes and
sporting a mop of greasy brown hair. The pig grunts and Bin shrieks in horror, lurching backwards.
Unsatisfied with its empty plate, the pig clambers up onto the bench and sniffs around, knocking
over a large bowl with its greedy snout. The bowl topples over and smashes. Food and sauces
splash to the ground, and Bin grimaces, disgusted.

A shadow of a man appears in the restaurant and slaps at the pig’s face with a fly swatter. With a
deafening squeal, the pig tumbles off the stool and lands at Bin’s feet. Bin yelps and begins to back
away slowly, heart beating loud in his own ears. He then notices another smaller, clothes-wearing-
pig sitting at the stall, eating without a care in the world. Mum? No, it can’t be.

Convinced that it must be a sick joke of some kind, Bin rips his gaze away from the dirty animals
and staggers out of the side street. He twists and turns on the spot, searching for his missing
parents.

“Mum! Dad! Where are you?!” he screams. No answer.

Bin decides upon heading back to the clock tower—perhaps his parents are waiting there for him.
He breaks into a run, avoiding the blotches of faceless shadows that are steadily materialising out
of thin air, jerking away whenever one wandered too close. Minutes feel like hours as Bin trips
over his own feet and down stone steps until he reaches another fork in the road. He peers into the
darkness of dusk and lights up when he spots a familiar toad statue ahead. Bin flies down the flight
of stairs only to shriek when he sprawls into a body of freezing water.

“Water?!”

Bin sloshes through the water and scrambles back up the steps. His jeans are soaked, his skin
prickling underneath the sopping denim, and a violent shiver wracks his body.
Bin’s eyes rake over the wide river. The clock tower, now illuminated, stands tall in the distance
amongst a cluster of glowing buildings that Bin can’t recall existing before. A gleaming riverboat
glides through the water, growing larger with every passing second.

Heavy panting fills the silence as Bin’s lungs scream for air. He swallows thickly.

“This has to be a dream,” Bin whispers. He sinks to the ground and squeezes his eyes shut, then
rubs them fiercely. Water drips from his clothes and forms a puddle at his feet. “I’m dreaming.
This is all just a bad dream.” He cradles his head in his hands. “Wake up, Bin… Wake up…”

Feeling a slither of hope, Bin lifts his head and he gasps.

“I’m see-through!” he screeches, springing to his feet and wiggling his translucent fingers. Bin rubs
his arms in a desperate attempt to save them from the same fate.
Bin is unaware the riverboat has closed in until it docks at the bottom of the stairs, just metres to
his left. Passengers begin to emerge from each cabin and Bin, paralysed with fear, gapes at every
one of them as they step onto land. Cloaked spirits with masks for faces lead the way up the stone
steps, and an assortment of bizarre creatures march behind.

Trembling all over, Bin backs away slowly, quietly, then spins around and clambers up a grassy
slope at breakneck speed. He drops behind a clump of buildings, hidden from the view of any
strange blobs or beings, and curls into himself. Helplessness is an emotion that Bin had never
become familiar with in the past, but now, as he watches his whole body become translucent, that’s
all he can feel. Eyes burning with unshed tears, he whimpers and drops his forehead onto his knees.

He should have waited in the car.

Something lightly touches his shoulder. Bin snaps his head up in fear and finds himself staring into
the eyes of the handsome boy he encountered at the bridge. Bin gasps and scoots backwards until
his head smacks against the cement wall. His heartbeat is thunderous in his ears.

“Don’t be afraid. I just want to help.” His voice is soft, contrary to the steel tone he held earlier. He
reaches into his cloak and produces a small red pill. “Eat this.”

“No!”

Bin thrusts his arm out to shove the stranger away, but his attempt is in vain when his hand—
almost completely swallowed by invisibility—simply wafts through the boy’s face and emerges on
the other side. Bin’s mouth drops in horror; the boy is entirely unfazed.

“You have to eat some food from this world, or else you’ll disappear.”

He raises the pill to Bin’s mouth. With the gentlest of touches, he pushes the medicine past Bin’s
trembling lips—when did he open them?—and Bin instantly cringes. It tastes terrible; he considers
spitting it out but forces himself to swallow the foreign object.

“There… You’re all better now.” Smiling, the boy holds up his hand. “See for yourself.”

Bin shoots him a wary look, then hesitantly reaches out. His fingers make contact—his eyes widen
as he skims them over the soft skin of the stranger’s palm. Bin looks down at his body—which is
miraculously solid once more—then at the boy in amazement.

“How did you…?”

“That doesn’t matter right now.” The boy rises to his feet. “Come with me.”

Bin seizes his pale wrists. “What about my parents?!” he says. Then, softer, “They’re not really
pigs, are they?”

His gaze softens. “You can’t see them now, but you will.” Something alarms the boy. His
expression turns rigid as he looks over his shoulder, then he crouches and traps Bin against the
wall, all in one swift movement. “Don’t move.”

Bin tenses up. His eyes—which are round with fright—flicker to the boy, who is glaring at
something in the sky. Bin sneaks a look over his shoulder and spots a bird soaring through the sky,
black feathers ruffling in the wind. Upon closer inspection, Bin notices that, instead of a regular
crow, the creature bears the head of a wrinkly old woman. He makes eye contact with the beast and
quickly looks away. The boy presses closer to Bin’s trembling frame; bizarrely, the act comforts
Bin and he closes his eyes, breathing in the faint scent of... vanilla?

The bird circles the area, then flies away.

“That bird is searching for you.” The stranger stands, taking the warmth with him. Bin shivers.
“You have to get out of here. Quickly.”

Grasping onto the offered hand, Bin tries to pull himself up but finds his legs have a different idea;
they weigh him down completely, glued to the damp grass. After many futile attempts, the panic
starts to settle in.

“I can’t move my legs! What’s going on?”

The boy drops to a crouch. “You’ll be okay. Calm down, take a deep breath.” Bin closes his eyes
and does as told. He hears the boy murmur:

“In the name of the wind and water within thee, unbind him.”

A warm, tingling sensation nips at Bin’s thighs, and after a moment, he feels the weight lift from
his legs. Bin’s eyes flutter open, mouth parting in surprise. “How did—”

“Not now,” says the boy, helping Bin to his feet. “Come with me.”

Bin tries his best to keep up with the boy as he runs, but it proves to be a difficult feat. The boy is
quick and light on his feet, skidding down the grassy slope and effortlessly twisting and turning
through empty streets. Bin is pulled down a narrow alleyway, but a wooden door up ahead stands
in their way. The boy doesn’t slow down—instead, he waves his hand, and the door flies open.
They run through and Bin hears it close behind them.

Bin can only catch tiny glimpses of his surroundings. They run down a set of stairs and past some
of the biggest dead fish Bin has ever seen, then into a cold storage, where frozen food is kept. With
another flick of the stranger’s wrist, a heavy door at the end of the cooler groans open and allows
them to pass through. Once again, it shuts behind them.

Connected to the cold storage is a noisy barnyard that smells of old hay and manure. Pigs are
huddled together on either side of their pathway, squealing and grunting at the unwelcome visitors.
Bin winces and wonders if any of the foul animals are his parents, but dismisses this thought as he
is hauled quickly out of the farm and into the cool night air.

Bin tries to regain his breath as the boy leads him through a garden, towards a small gate. “You
must hold your breath in order to cross the bridge,” he says as he unlocks the latch. They both step
through, and he looks it behind them. “Even the tiniest breath will break the spell, and then
everyone will see you.”

“I think I can do that,” Bin responds, but his nervous tone betrays him. Not only has he spent the
past hour or so on his feet, his jeans are still damp and uncomfortable, making his skin itch. To
make matters worse, his head throbs with the threat of a migraine and—together with an empty
stomach—he feels slightly nauseated.

Bin just wants to go home. Wherever home is.

Perhaps the boy can sense Bin’s panic, because he reaches for his hand. “Don’t be nervous,” he
says softly, lacing their fingers together. Bin feels his cheeks warm. “Just be calm and stay close to
me. Everything will be alright.”

Bin nods, not trusting his voice, and leans closer to the boy as they near the commotion up ahead.
Monsters and spirits of all shapes and sizes create a ruckus as they cross the bridge and enter the
bathhouse. Two small men—hardly taller than Bin’s hip—stand near the gate, waving paper
lanterns around and cheerily greeting each passing creature. Bin eyes them warily as they walk
past, but the boy does not spare them a glance.

“I’m back from my mission.”

“Ahh! Welcome!” one of the men chirp in response. “Welcome back, Master Eunwoo!”

Bin sneaks a glance at the boy—Eunwoo—feeling more relaxed now that he can finally put a name
to face. He takes a moment to study Eunwoo’s side profile. Bin has always considered Minhyuk to
be the most handsome person around, but Eunwoo’s good looks puts even his to shame. He’s
attractive from any angle, Bin realises. He wonders if it’s some sort of witchcraft, and quickly
looks away. He's not going to fall under another spell.

“Take a deep breath,” Eunwoo whispers once they near the bridge. Bin follows his command. “…
Hold it.”

Bin’s free hand shoots to his face to grip his nose. He feels the flooring underneath his sneakers
shift and realises they’ve stepped on the bridge, easing into the crowd of oblivious creatures. Bin
searches for a distraction while his air supply is cut short, and his eyes settle on a lone spirit up
ahead. It resembles that of a translucent black ghost, floating near the left of the bridge. Its face is
nothing but a porcelain mask, fit with hollow black eyes and a smiling mouth. The white of its
disguise is painted with intricate purple markings.

Bin eyes it as he passes, and the spirit does the same, its expressionless face not leaving Bin for
even a split second. Skin prickling and hair standing on end, Bin is the first to break eye contact.

“Welcome, welcome!” A group of busty women in kimonos greet customers at the entrance of the
bathhouse, which is not far ahead. “Welcome back! Good to see you!”

Lungs screaming in anguish, Bin begins to feel lightheaded and stars crowd his vision. Sensing his
discomfort, Eunwoo mutters, “Hang on, we’re almost there.”

The end of the bridge is so near that Bin can almost taste victory on his tongue. They’re just about
to reach the entrance of the bathhouse when, in the blink of an eye, a small green frog leaps into
Bin’s line of sight.

“Master Eunwoo!” it squawks, “Where ya been?!”

Unable to mask his surprise, Bin gasps. He then immediately realises his mistake and scrambles to
cover his mouth again, but the damage has already been done.

“Wha— A human?!” the frog splutters, mid-air. Eunwoo reacts in the nick of time—he waves his
hand and traps the creature into a floating black bubble, rendering it completely immobile. Bin
gapes. What other magic tricks does Eunwoo have hidden under his sleeve?

“Let’s go!”

Bin doesn’t have time to think as Eunwoo grabs his wrist and springs forward, hunched low as he
soars—above ground—past the group of women. They shriek as their kimonos rise with the sudden
breeze, and hurry to cover themselves. Eunwoo uses this distraction to open a small wooden door.
He ushers Bin through and follows, then closes it behind them swiftly.

Bin follows Eunwoo around the side of the bathhouse and into an immaculate garden. It’s there
that they crouch behind a bush, listening to the uproar taking place. Bin leans onto Eunwoo for
comfort, and Eunwoo reciprocates by wrapping an arm around his shoulders and pulling him close.
Bin hears staff scampering about inside the building, desperately calling Eunwoo’s name.

Then, Eunwoo says, “They know you’re here.”

“I’m sorry. I ruined the spell,” Bin says miserably. He’s never felt as guilty in his entire life.
Eunwoo shifts to look at him, and he shrinks into himself. “We were so close, but I blew it.”

“No, Bin. You did very well,” Eunwoo interrupts, voice kind. “Listen carefully to what I tell you to
do. You can’t stay here—they’ll find you, and you’ll never get to rescue your parents. I’ll create a
diversion and let you escape—”
“No!” Bin cries, latching into Eunwoo’s cloak. He then says, quieter, “Please stay with me. I
don’t… I don’t think I can handle being alone.”

“I don’t have any choice if you want to help your parents,” Eunwoo says gently, prying Bin’s
fingers from his clothing. Bin knows he has to trust Eunwoo. Despite being upset with his parents
over the past few weeks, he still loves them and wants nothing more than to see them safe, even if
it means putting himself in danger to help them.

“So they did turn into pigs. It wasn’t a hallucination?”

In lieu of answering, Eunwoo moves his hand under Bin’s bangs. His fingers are cool against Bin’s
forehead, and he finds himself leaning into the touch, eyes fluttering shut.

“Now, when things quiet down, go out through the back gate; go all the way down the stairs until
you reach the boiler room. There, you’ll find Kamaji, the boiler-man.”

As Eunwoo talks, images flick through Bin’s mind like pages to a book; he pictures the back gate,
and the stairs, and the door to the boiler room. When Eunwoo draws his hand back, Bin blinks, and
realises Eunwoo implanted the directions in his head.

“Kamaji?” he repeats. Eunwoo nods.

“Tell him that you want to work here. Even if he refuses, you must insist. If you don’t get a job,
Yubaba will turn you into an animal.”

“Yubaba…” Bin tries the foreign name on his tongue. “Who is she?”

“You’ll see. She’s the witch who rules the bathhouse,” Eunwoo explains. “Kamaji will try to turn
you away or trick you into leaving, but just keep asking for work. It’ll be hard work, but you’ll be
able to stay here; then even Yubaba can’t harm you.”

Bin feels the familiar sting of tears behind his eyes. Without the help of Eunwoo, Bin wouldn’t
even have gotten this far; he’d have disappeared by the river, and his parents would remain pigs for
the rest of time. Now he has to tackle everything by himself, and to make matters worse, it would
cost him his life if he were to fail. The thought terrifies Bin and he finds himself trembling
uncontrollably, warm tears spilling down his cheeks.

Eunwoo’s expression softens. Bin tenses for a moment as Eunwoo cradles his face, using his
thumbs to wipe Bin’s tears ever-so-gently. Closing his eyes, Bin visibly relaxes and indulges in the
affectionate gesture, comforted by the touch of a man whom he’s known for less than a day but
trusts with his entire heart.

Bin can’t recall the last time he’s felt so safe in the presence of another. Once upon a time, he’d
have felt that way around his parents—but years have passed, and he’s since then become aware
that his parents aren’t the superheroes he made them out to be as a child. Bin enjoyed Minhyuk’s
company—he always has, and always will—but as Bin is older, the urge to watch over and protect
his best friend has always been a sixth sense.

This is different, and he’s never felt anything like it before.

“You’ll be okay,” Eunwoo soothes, stroking Bin’s cheek—a feather-light touch. Much to Bin’s
dismay, the noise from inside increases tenfold; Eunwoo glances behind his shoulder, then drops
his hands and sighs. “I have to go. And don’t forget, Bin—I’m your friend.”

As Eunwoo goes to stand, Bin grasps his hands. “Wait— How did you know my name?”
Eunwoo’s lips twitch. “I’ve known you since you were very small.” Bin openly stares, expecting
an explanation that Eunwoo doesn’t provide. Instead, he just releases Bin’s hands and says, “Good
luck. And whatever you do, don’t make a sound.”

Stunned into silence, all Bin can do is watch as Eunwoo straightens up and turns towards the
bathhouse. An employee spots the boy and calls out to him.

“Calm down, I’m coming!” Eunwoo snaps, a completely different aura about him. He approaches
the opening door and slips out of his sandals. A strange looking creature—half man and half frog
—collects them, and another greets Eunwoo as he steps inside.

“Master Eunwoo, Yubaba wants to see you.”

Eunwoo's voice is cold when he answers, “I know. It’s about my mission, right?”

The conversation abruptly ends when one of the employees slides the door shut. Then, there is
nothing but silence and the sound of Bin’s shallow breathing as he collects himself, trying to
process Eunwoo’s sudden change in character. It was as if someone flicked a switch that controlled
his personality, making the sweet, caring boy revert to the cold stranger Bin encountered at the
bridge. This makes Bin question everything that’s happened thus far. Is Eunwoo’s whole act
towards Bin a charade? If so, what does he have to gain?

Maybe this whole thing is a trap. Saving Bin’s life, only to trick him and send him straight into
Yubaba’s clutches. Maybe he isn’t trying to help Bin at all and just wants him gone. Then again, he
did say that he's a friend, and he went to all that trouble to help him.

Bin closes his eyes, and takes a deep breath.

There’s only one way to discover the truth.

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