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[unforgivablekrp-blog]

        THE SHRIEKING HARPY HAS THE SCOOP ON                                 the infamous kim euntaek !

— DID YOU KNOW?

Here’s what our columnist found out about this 29 year old...

blood status: pureblood lineage: kim family occupation: lawyer residence: mabeob-gu wand: willow wood & thestral tail hair faction: cult of the moon alignment: n/a organization: korean magical council silhak speciality: active magic sejong major: law

— EXCLUSIVE INFORMATION!

Inside resources have said Euntaek...

smells fresh spring, parchment, and chocolate chip muffins upon taking amortentia sees golden spoon snapped into two halves, colour drained from it so fast that it looks nothing more than an ordinary spoon in a split second. ( breaking of chains, his impending dissociation from the pureblood society should they find out that his allegiance doesn’t lie with them ) when facing a boggart conjures a lynx when performing expecto patronus.

— HISTORY EXPOSED!

001. it’s the same words emphasised: in muffled voices, in gentle strokes of a knuckle to cheek, in silence that’s held behind tight lips and sealed in throats, in countless fancy dinners wherein the same things happen over and again –– it’s the same words repeated. he learns of the words before the meaning, before he learns to crawl or walk or speak the words. they tell him he’s lucky; he thinks he’s lucky.

002. the statue’s built on rust and bones, shapes of human figures outlined and details fine-tuned to the minuscule. he bears witness to the terror magnified from the iron faces, distant screams filling his ears but they’re short-lived. mother thinks it makes a good bedtime story. after all, nothing puts a child to sleep better than a history picture-book that highlights major efforts in stablising the status of pureblood society upon the graves of anyone ( anything ) that is impure, tainted in the slightest of ways. she tells him he’s born a golden boy and meant for things greater than him and her; he believes her.

003. winter, 1995, train station. he has a hand in one of mother’s while they make their way through the bustling crowds on the platform. first class isn’t so much comfort and privacy than it is a statement, a declaration of status with clear lines drawn. the first time he learns of the meaning, it is in these words: they’re not like us.

004. winter, 2001, school bathroom. the other boy is his age, in his herbology class, always with the thick frames and always with the same, bright smile. the two of you could be friends, you’re very much alike. it grates his nerves and crosses him the wrong way. the rest spirals downwards from thereon. the smile’s taken and replaced with a look euntaek is all too familiar with, memories surfacing and it dawns upon him: the statue, the same look of absolute horror. a part of him thrives off on the anticipation that his father would be proud and his mother would kiss his head with the same pride –– her darling lil’ boy is growing up. that day, he learns of the power of blood –– in particular, his own. the boy’s a mudblood –– he doesn’t matter, he shouldn’t matter.

005. name after name goes down into history, left forgotten and unaccounted for. it’s a front row seat for him in witnessing the way murders are ruled justified and covered up in the name of maintaining order and restoring balance. father tells him these are what needed to be done. he wonders at times if the statue gets wider, gets taller, and sinks deeper into the ground from the weight of bones, the weight of their –– his own –– blood and superiority. the disguise of justice only goes this far for him, except justice is a foreign concept that he’s never quite been able to wrap his head around, and he doesn’t think he cares enough to. it’s as his father’s always done: reaping benefits regardless of the price to pay.

006. winter, 2012. the grades are entirely his, and the position is entirely his father’s. euntaek knows he’s born with privileges, and he thinks he’ll be a damned fool not to squeeze it dry. he joins the ministry upon passing the bar exam, sitting comfortably in an office that his parents would call clean. essentially, there have always been just two paths laid before him from the very beginning: politics and law, it’s either or and no room for negotiation. after years of the same groove and grind, of watching his father abuse the power he holds and pull strings in his favour, euntaek thinks he much prefers one where he doesn’t have to be subjected to public scrutiny or has to constantly appease others. the drill of time shows him that certain things are just parts of a bigger game. at this point, he finds himself gradually gravitating away from the mindset he’s been influenced ( brainwashed ) into undertaking and towards everything else he’s witnessed and learnt via his father. all this while he’s been teetering around the edges of the grey, staying faithfully within the boundaries of the black and white. in the whirlwind of chaos and the rising tension amongst the various factions, he finds comfort in the one and only he’s stayed true to: himself.

[unforgivablekrp-blog]

           THE SHRIEKING HARPY HAS THE SCOOP ON                                    the infamous park yujin !

— DID YOU KNOW?

Here’s what our columnist found out about this 25 year old...

blood status: pureblood lineage: park family occupation: cursebreaker for the museum of the magical arts residence: mabeob-gu wand: hippogriff talon & ash faction: cult of the moon alignment: corruption climber organization: cursebreaker for the museum of the magical arts silhak speciality: magical theory sejong major: cursebreaking

— EXCLUSIVE INFORMATION!

Inside resources have said Yujin...

smells smoke, roses, and paint upon taking amortentia sees her being alone when facing a boggart conjures a fox when performing expecto patronus.

— HISTORY EXPOSED!

childhood is easy.

park yujin is a natural charmer, pink petal lips permanently curled into a smile; there’s no avoiding falling in love with this child. and it remains to be easy, to jump into the laps of her parent’s friends and amaze them with elementary spells learned a year too early.

but it dawns on her, even in her infant innocence, that she would always be second to her sister. second smartest, second prettiest; but always first to bitch and complain.

it’s a middle child complex, they tell their parents. they’re friends of friends with nothing better to do than run their mouths. but they’re not wrong. park yujin is ignored; spoiled, mouthy, and not given an ounce of attention compared to her siblings. but she’s easy to ignore. her prepubescent years had yet to see her amount to anything. she wasn’t graced with the same beauty her sister had been gifted with early into her adolescence; she wasn’t as young as her brother, seemingly always in need of coddling and protection.

but with minimal parental supervision and a constant craving for attention, it isn’t long before she’s sticking her nose in places it doesn’t belong. it would be a one-time thing, they swore. but even to this day, she finds herself in the arms of people she should not. park yujin, for as stubborn as she is, has not learned to keep her word.

adolescence is an epiphany, the birth of self-awareness.

it comes too easy to her, they whisper with their mouths hidden behind their hands, it’s not fair. but when has the world ever been fair? cruel, vengeful, a slight inconvenience sure. but fair? that was definitely a stretch.

the halls of silhak house her rebirth, her transformation into the better sister. yujin can already begin to see it, her older sister grows too soft, too lenient, she’s beginning to lose her edge. she fails to see the world outside her zone of comfort, she’s failed to see the rewards if she just reached further.

park yujin becomes every bit of the snake her parents were and continue to be. it’s easy to swallow the twisted ideologies they shoved down their throats with a smile on her face; it’s easy to follow in their footsteps and think, above all else, only of herself. ambition grows within her, a dark seed blossoming and ready to sprout its leaves. will she know when to stop?

adulthood is the feeling of being lost when you are at home.

who do you support, park yujin? there are cameras in her face, reporters with nothing better to do than hound the children of wealthy and powerful.

i support the hard-working members of this society. throw them a smile, park yujin.

and it’s funny, yujin thinks, to have grown all up to become everything her parents could have wished for and more.

[unforgivablekrp-blog]

           THE SHRIEKING HARPY HAS THE SCOOP ON                                    the infamous bae subin !

— DID YOU KNOW?

Here’s what our columnist found out about this 24 year old...

blood status: half blood lineage: n/a occupation: auror  residence: mabeob-gu wand: phoenix tail feather & ivy faction: neutral alignment: n/a organization: auror for the korean magical council silhak speciality: active magic sejong major: combat magic

— EXCLUSIVE INFORMATION!

Inside resources have said Subin...

smells bonfire, cinammon, and ocean water upon taking amortentia sees her father dying when facing a boggart conjures a bloodhound when performing expecto patronus.

— HISTORY EXPOSED!

Her parents were from two opposite ends of society; a pure blood and a muggleborn who had no business being together. They kept their love a secret until her mother became pregnant and they had no choice but to marry. Her mother’s parents disowned her, and then the couple were left with very little and a baby on the way.

On the night of her birth, Subin was only able to meet her mother for a brief moment before she died. The medics tried everything to save her, but something had gone wrong with the birth, something they couldn’t fix in time. She passed away and Subin was left with only her muggleborn father who didn’t know the first thing about babies.

A few months after their daughter died in child birth, Subin’s grandparents came to meet their grandchild. They still hated her father, but the loss of their only daughter had made them weak. They wanted to be there for the only grandchild they would ever have. It took a lot of arguing, but her father agreed to allow them in Subin’s life so long as they didn’t try to push their pure blood ideals onto her.

Much of her child hood was a very confusing mix. Subin grew up around her muggleborn father and muggle grandmother who taught her to love muggle culture but then she also had heavy exposure to the other side of her heritage from her pure blood grandparents. They bought her lovely hanboks and taught her what they could sneak by of their pure blood culture. It was a terrible clash, but she wouldn’t have had it any other way. She loved all aspects of her roots, and being around her grandparents made her feel closer to her mother.

Before attending Silhak, Subin was sheltered in her happy little world by her family. Being around other magical children and learning alongside them showed her how the other wizards viewed muggles and muggleborns. It wasn’t everyone, but she saw the tension with her own young eyes. If she ever witnessed any kind of bullying, Subin was quick to come to the defense of the under dog. It earned her a bit of a bad rep with some of her peers, but she didn’t care about being popular or liked by everyone. Protecting others became second nature for her, not just muggleborns but anyone who suffered bullying or teasing. It sometimes ended with her getting hit by something nasty, but Subin never regretted her decisions.

While growing up and learning at Silhak, she also formed opinions of her own on the factions that held power. Her father favored the order of the phoenix, her grandparents the cult of the moon, and Subin sat somewhere in between. She could see both sides of the coin, the good and bad arguments that each group presented. She agreed with the cult of the moon about muggles being destructive, but she didn’t like the extreme that they wanted to take things or the similarities between the cult of the moon and the death eaters. Death eaters left a bad taste in her mouth, especially considering that their ideals oppress her father.

After Silhak, Subin went on to Sejong to study combat magic. She had a firm goal in mind of joining the aurors and she was happy to further her education before going into her dream job. She focused everything on her studies, trying to push down her urge to protect every weak or defenseless person, but she couldn’t help herself. She didn’t only get into duels with other students, but she also had a few physically violent confrontations. It almost got her kicked out of Sejong and she was lucky to hold off getting into any more trouble to graduate.

Her time as an auror has been brief (a year), but it’s the perfect fit for Subin. She’s already managed to almost get herself killed, much to her family’s dismay, but no amount of pleading from them will get her to quit and find a more ‘suitable’ career. Her grandparents would rather see her become a high society socialite or try to get a job in politics and her father agrees with them, surprisingly. She loves them and appreciates their worry, but Subin tries to brush their worries off with a few joking jabs about becoming a big hot shot auror some day.

[unforgivablekrp-blog]

      THE SHRIEKING HARPY HAS THE SCOOP ON                               the infamous ong jaesung !

— DID YOU KNOW?

Here’s what our columnist found out about this 23 year old...

blood status: halfblood ability: occlumens occupation: part-time teller at gringott’s residence: mabeob-gu wand: cypress wood & kelpie hair faction: death eaters alignment: red right hand organization: n/a  silhak speciality: seeking sejong major: business and commerce

— EXCLUSIVE INFORMATION!

Inside resources have said Jaesung...

smells new cars, forest trees, and a faint scent of copper upon taking amortentia sees bloodied mental asylum patient when facing a boggart conjures a eagle when performing expecto patronus.

— HISTORY EXPOSED!

the beauteous memories viewed through a child’s mind’s eye when asked of their mother was an experience lost on jaesung long before had the chance to retain her image. he, instead, recalled the tortured screams of a woman whose mind deteriorated within her very skull and the soul deep sobs that only ceased in bouts of sick when her stomach could no longer handle the pressure. it was then that she found peace through slumber – her body exhausted. it was then that jaesung peered through the swollen cherry wood door to the room at the end of the hall on the second floor where she stayed and watched as his equally debilitated father wiped the vomit from his beloved’s cracked lips with a damp washcloth. jaesung only heard explanations of her state through the wooden walls when his father communicated through the floo network with other wizards but even then his words were vague.

because he was lying.

like all wizards coming from a low-standing that were affiliated so closely with muggles in a world where He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named ruled over the wizarding world of seoul, jaesung’s father had to prove himself useful or, therefore, become expendable. hours upon hours he spent locked away in his research facilities leaving behind a mentally frail wife and a vulnerable son facilitating hope that his studies would prove useful this time to the cause of the ministry. the desperation was stifling for the older man and the toll it took on him was crippling.

and when she died, he was devastated.

the sight had been one jaesung witnessed as she was carried from their home. the self-inflicted scratch marks shining bright red with fresh blood. her jagged fingernails curled back to expose the white meat. the wedding dress she’d changed into tattered and brown with waste and dirt secreting a pungent smell that still invades his conscience at the sight of the nuptial garb to this day. her hair stringy and greased with unwashed natural oils in the places where it had not been ripped from her scalp during one of many fits. her medicine had helped make her last moments peaceful, the medical technicians had said, but jaesung knew that the inevitable had finally come.

she’d always been dying. now she was just dead.

the rickety house they called home was far more silent in the following months. not a sob, heave or screech penetrated the days and the nights became weighted with silence. not much time had gone by after that before jaesung was whisked away from the muggle world by his father and back into the wizarding world in an attempt to leave her memory behind along with other muggle affairs. the two males hardly exchanged words in the aftermath and with the reticence came the beginnings of an irreparable distance that would shape the rest of jaesung’s life. his father abandoned all work and fell completely and wholly into his research as what jaesung would later recognize as a coping method. there were many days jaesung would return from school and come home to a home devoid of food, electricity and a father.

resentment twisted the young man’s gut and tainted his mind. with each green glass bottle he picked up from the devastation that was their home, the hatred seated itself further and further into his soul. his feet were heavy as he ascended the stairs each night after his second job and traversed the hallways past the rooms where his father lay in a drunken, miserable stupor. it became a daily routine that sickened him.

there was one night he witnessed the old man sicking into his own mouth as he lay on his back. jaesung watched. he remembered thinking that he’d die. those words that would usually incite panic in even the most sympathetic of people fell upon him numbly. in fact, he wished it’d happen. he wanted to see it. to hear the last breath leaving his putrid mouth as he choked and gargled on the contents of his stomach. the rage that had sat mostly dormant for all those years set his blood afire. his vision reddened and narrowed with blind focus. the resolve he’d exercised for so long melted under the heat of his mania until he exploded.

i wanted to kill him. i should have.

he did not know how many times his fists had sank into the soft flesh of the drunken man. he hadn’t counted the sickening snaps and cracks of the bones as they gave way beneath the punishing heel of his boots. the blood ran thick and mixed with the sick that had formed a puddle around the madness, giving off a coppery scent of waste that he’d remember for weeks to come.

he felt liberated.

harder. Harder. HARDER!

with each viciously wet smack upon a body that had long stopped struggling, jaesung breathed new life into his depressed bones. from the boy that had barely spoken a word came a passion so dizzyingly satisfying that for the first time in what seemed like ages, he smiled. even as the hysteria subsided and he sat knelt beside his father – the slow rising and falling of the beaten man’s chest haggard and slow – jaesung still wore the fragments of a simper as his adrenaline high tapered out of his system. dark brown eyes scoured the bloodied man’s body before him with silent, slightly disinterested resolve before he rose to his feet to shower before bed.

there was no use trying to remember his face. it was almost unrecognizable.

his father did not stay that way for long. wizarding healthcare trumped that of the muggle world by a long shot. and with his health restored and the self-discovery that jaesung had gone through – the empowerment it gave him – the silence in the house between the two males was now weighted and tense. true natures were exposed and while his father felt that his son had to seek help, jaesung felt as if nothing could stop him.

[unforgivablekrp-blog]

       THE SHRIEKING HARPY HAS THE SCOOP ON                                the infamous yi siwoo !

— DID YOU KNOW?

Here’s what our columnist found out about this 23 year old...

blood status: halfblood lineage: werewolf occupation: alternate chaser for the dashing dokkaebi residence: mudang-ri wand: hawthorn wood & thestral tail hair faction: neutral alignment: n/a organization: dashing dokkaebi silhak speciality: active magic sejong major: did not attend

— EXCLUSIVE INFORMATION!

Inside resources have said Siwoo...

smells the sun on his skin, honeysuckle, and clean linen upon taking amortentia sees mauled bodies when facing a boggart conjures a panther when performing expecto patronus.

— HISTORY EXPOSED!

( there once was a boy who cried wolf.

– days pass,

                    but no one comes to save him. )

i.

it starts like this: with a boy curled up on his mother’s lap, the sunset glow washing the floor a warm lemonade pink, and the soft lilt of a woman’s voice as she reads from a storybook.

“eomma,” he interrupts, a yawn threatening to spill from the edge of his lips. “what if the knight doesn’t get there in time?”

she pauses. tucks a lock of hair behind his ear as she mulls over his words carefully before coming to a conclusion that she’s happy with. she leans in close, storybook ending long forgotten.

“that’s easy, siwoo-ah. you’ll just have to save yourself.”

ii.

a letter arrives.

in all purposes, it looks unassuming- hidden amongst the rest of the bills- that his mother doesn’t even notice it at first. but as she flips through the mail, she stops on it, eyes scanning the return address.

later that day, when his mother comes to tuck him into bed, she lingers after giving him his good night kiss on the forehead. “siwoo-ah, you got something in the mail today.” her voice is hushed as she hands him the letter, and he blinks with wonder in his eyes as his mother reads him the contents inside it.

magic.

she tells him, almost ruefully, that his father was a wizard, but she fell in love with him anyways.

“where is he now?” he asks, barely a whisper. he remembers him in fragments; a foggy distant memory of clean aftershave and a gentle smile. he knows better not to ask where his father is, but curiosity creeps up on him and won’t let go.

her face shutters, and she folds her hands together in her lap. “dead,” she says truthfully, “your father… was a good man. he died doing what he loved.”

he nods, pretending that he understands. there will be years ahead of him to understand what his father died fighting for.

iii.

yi siwoo is thirteen years old; brash and knuckleheaded, ready to fight anyone who mutters about his blood status or about his muggle mother. his magic is volatile at best, and his temperament often gets the best of him in fights, ending in bloody brawls and split lips.

he’s thirteen years old and angry at the injustice in the world, and his hands itch to do something, anything. he gets held back by a teacher after school, someone he doesn’t recognize. he glares and juts out his chin defiantly.

“woah there, kid, i’m not trying to start a fight with you,” the teacher says gruffly. “don’t you have anything better to do than picking fights all the time?”

he shakes his head. swallows the metallic taste in his mouth bitterly. the teacher lets out a harumph, and only now does he realize it’s the quidditch coach.

iv.

quidditch is exhilarating. he lets out a loud whoop as he spins in the air on a secondhand broom and closes his eyes, letting the wind blow through his hair and make his shirt billow out behind him.

coach tells him to channel his anger into something else and be useful for once. that he could be a good quidditch player if he puts his effort into it.

for once, siwoo sees a bright future ahead of him.

v.

it ends like this: with a full moon overhead, heedless chattering as his mother asks how he’s doing at school, as they walk home during christmas break.

he’s in the middle of explaining to his mother how he almost fell off his broom during a game, a near miss with a bludger, when he hears a low growl. something inhuman.

it’s the middle of the night, and he’s walking home with his mom arm in arm after eating some delicious ddeokbokki when they’re both being pulled into a dark alleyway.

it’s dark, but the image is unmistakable. snarling, baring teeth as saliva trickles down through matted fur and the one single minded thought of werewolf.

he’s too caught off guard, doesn’t have his wand on him and-

they both get bitten.

he survives.

his mother does not.

vi.

he gets bitten at the age of seventeen, and his whole world is thrown into a loop.

he’s walking down the street, hands in his pockets, when he hears a plea for help. and he stops, because this scene reminds him exactly of what happened a few months ago, and he can’t help but compare the voice to his mother.

suddenly he’s running towards the back of a shady bar to find a girl surrounded by leery looking men. he doesn’t even think, just taps one of them on the shoulder, and when they turn around, punches them square in the nose.

it’s a moonless night and suddenly he’s thirteen again fighting school bullies, vision filled with red, until he and the girl are the only ones standing.

he looks up, barely registers that his head is bleeding. tries to get the words out as his chest heaves up and down. “are you okay?” he finally asks, voice sounding foreign to his own ears. but she’s looking at him like she’s scared.

like he’s a monster.

vii.

the national korean magical council get wind of his “accident.”

they summon him before them to talk about it.

and he’s scared, downright terrified of what they might do. but perhaps, he looks too sorry in the state he’s in right now: right eye swelled shut, the downtrodden look of his general appearance- someone who has clearly given up. but perhaps, because this is his first major offense, they won’t throw him into prison right away. he doesn’t know why he thinks this. doesn’t know why he’s clinging onto that small glimmer of hope right now. clearly he’s a lost cause.

but perhaps, they don’t think so, because instead of locking him up behind bars, they recommend him a psychiatrist he’s required to see once a week. like they think he can get better before he can get worse.

it’s better than nothing.

on the first meeting, they sit in silence. the psychiatrist attempts to ask him questions, but it is soon too evident that he doesn’t want to be there. his thoughts are too tumultuous, too restless, that he doesn’t even know where to start if he wanted to.

siwoo wonders who will crack first.

viii.

he laughs wetly, curled up in a fetal position on his bathroom floor. relishes the feeling of the cool tile against his cheek.

days start to blur into each other and potion bottles and an empty goblet are strewn around him. reflexively, he digs his nails into his own palms hard enough to make him bleed. a reminder that he is still alive. still human.

he doesn’t know how to fix himself.

he doesn’t know if he cares enough to try.

ix.

siwoo drops out of silhak shortly thereafter. cites chronic illness as an excuse. he doesn’t know what’s the point anymore- years of learning down the drain when he can barely perform a simple healing spell without breaking into a sweat. his magic thrives off his emotions, but nowadays his mind is too clouded, like he’s wading through a never ending pool of water.

but, slowly, bit by bit, siwoo reveals small truths.

he used to go meetings without saying a word, but lately he has been talking about everything and nothing all at once. quidditch. the small stray cat that hangs out at the bottom of the steps to his apartment. how he’s scared someone might unveil his secrets.

they’re making progress, his psychiatrist says.

regardless, even if he does tell his shrink about his fears, he is still lying to himself. lying to himself that maybe it will get better, that one day he won’t go to sleep and wake up with nightmares.

because even though he can tell his pyschiatrist the truth, he doesn’t know if he’ll ever be able to tell anyone else.

no matter how many sessions he attends and the slow progress of stiching himself back together until he can look at himself in the mirror without seeing someone else, he is still terrified of losing control.

it is like any other day when he finds himself with a potion in hand. draught of peace. taken to relieve agitation. 

daily, he decides, just to be safe. 

x.

one day, he’s contacted out of the blue. his coach back from primary school, the one who gave him his dream, sends his stats to a manager. a manager for the dashing dokkaebi who gives him an offer to try out. see what he’s made of.

he’s twenty-two and he hasn’t played quidditch in years, but his heart starts to beat faster when he gets on the broom. his wand work may be abysmal now, but this is body memory. he places a hand over his chest and listens to the steady thud like it might mean something.

they like how he plays. fast with reckless abandon like he’s not afraid to fall, like he doesn’t care if he does.

he’s rusty, but it’s something.

(somewhere,

a wolf howls.)

[unforgivablekrp-blog]

         THE SHRIEKING HARPY HAS THE SCOOP ON                                  the infamous jang seojun !

— DID YOU KNOW?

Here’s what our columnist found out about this 27 year old...

blood status: halfblood lineage: n/a occupation: informant residence: gwishin-dong wand: hackberry wood & thestral tail hair faction: order of the phoenix alignment: noble zealots organization: the augury silhak speciality: active magic sejong major: combat magic

— EXCLUSIVE INFORMATION!

Inside resources have said Seojun...

smells smoke, (bon)fire, honey-filled hotteok, and fresh mint upon taking amortentia sees newspaper headlines spread across the globe that state the victory of the death eaters when facing a boggart conjures a lion when performing expecto patronus.

— HISTORY EXPOSED!

He’s all smiles and laughter. Chatters happily with the Ministry’s high ups, and with the homeless people, too. Always out to have fun and cause a bit of trouble with the many friends he’s made. His father tells him to be more careful and to stop picking his friends so carelessly. He does not listen. His father also tells him to stop being so reckless. He still does not listen. What’s the harm in having fun, after all?

This is how the years go by. Scolded on the daily; lectured on how to behave properly and what not to do. Times seem to be getting darker, and with it comes fear. Fear to be cast out, attacked; murdered. ‘Stop thinking about yourself and start thinking about your family.’ Words that are constantly repeated. Lineage means nothing to him, but to his father it meant the only way to survival.

Bullshit.

Here’s the thing; equality has always been important in their family. Whether pureblooded, halfblooded or not possessing any magic whatsoever. In the end, they’re all human and that is what matters. At least, this is what used to matter before tension rose and cowards popped up from every corner. One of them? His father. Married to a muggle-born witch, running as soon as he started to feel the heat. Betrayal at it’s finest—it is one of the reasons he does not trust many purebloods. Sure, he considers them equals, but that doesn’t change the fact that they’re some of the biggest cowards (and cowards can never be trusted).

Seojun does not need to think twice when asked to choose between the pair. He moves in with his mother at 20 years of age; his sister does the exact opposite. This, too, comes as no surprise to any of them. She’s always been one to take the easy way out, much like their father—much like most of the purebloods he once used to consider his friends. Although he would never despise someone simply because of their bloodline, the years have made it harder for him not to be cautious of anyone that has lived within the safe boundaries of their pureblood household.

This is how it all starts to come together. Seojun does not finish school after graduating his primary education (active magic). In fact, in the years that follow, he focuses solely on his major. He’s got no intentions to use the certifications in order to get a job, but he does want to be prepared to put up a proper fight in case need be. What he wants is to stand up for those who are incapable of standing up for themselves, or are too afraid to do so; those who have been told by society that they are less than others. He wants to show his father that he was wrong for abandoning their mother in the way that he did and for not fighting next to them. Though one would argue the effort he puts into getting that far, all that Seojun does, he does with a clear purpose. Working as a bartender secures him information from customers (especially when he might just spike one of their drinks every so often—but just enough to get them to talk). Whatever he finds out goes straight to either the Augury or the Noble Zealots. There’s a sweet sense of satisfaction that comes with the fear (or at least unease) that they can undeniably bring upon those who deserve it, and he’ll stop at no cost to see them fall.

[unforgivablekrp-blog]

          THE SHRIEKING HARPY HAS THE SCOOP ON                                   the infamous kim eunha !

— DID YOU KNOW?

Here’s what our columnist found out about this 23 year old...

blood status: pureblood lineage: kim family occupation: law assistant at the department of magical law enforcement residence: mabeob-gu wand: pine wood & phoenix feather faction: death eaters alignment: corruption climbers organization: korean magical council silhak speciality: magical theory sejong major: law

— EXCLUSIVE INFORMATION!

Inside resources have said Eunha...

smells omija tea, fresh flowers, ink, and a summer breeze upon taking amortentia sees herself as a failure or weak when facing a boggart conjures a arctic fox when performing expecto patronus.

— HISTORY EXPOSED!

From four to five, two sons and now a daughter, the Kim family expands. Another child to be doted on, another child to be welcomed in their highly exclusive world, another child to be indoctrinated with the belief she’s better than everyone else, thanks to what courses through her veins. Kim Eunha, the precious baby swathed in the finest fabrics, already has a series of expectations thrust upon her tiny shoulders. It’s honestly not a matter of if she’ll be great things, but when.

Father jokingly likes to say that her first words was a question. He’s probably right. Anything and everything piques her curiosity. The world is vast, consisting of sights and sounds she’s never heard of before. She points, she asks, she listens. The more detailed an explanation is, the less likely a whine will echo through the house from the vague reasoning. Everyone quickly learns to prepare for an interrogation by a highly inquisitive six year old, because ignoring her is equivalent to a death wish.

There are the faces shown in the public eye and those reserved for behind closed doors. Both parents are shining examples of just how easy it is to mask true intentions for personal gain. Strangers are treated as long time friends, showered with enough compliments and attention to calm the most unruly of souls. Razor sharp teeth are hidden with promises for a long lasting alliance, for the sake of business, before said promise becomes the subject of a private joke, as if mocking how gullible others can be.

Criticism over their behaviour is non existent when she knows no better. Their mannerisms are slowly adopted, evident in the way she interacts and speaks to others, struggling to fathom the possibility that this shouldn’t be the way she behaves. Friends aren’t safe from her greedy little hands either. The brand new toy they parade around somehow, and for some reason, continually finds its way into her grasp, although her kind words and bright smile keeps the accusations at bay. Like parent, like child.

Heroes aren’t the fictional characters who feature in her grandmother’s bedtime stories. They are, in fact, the women in the family—grandmother, aunts, her mother—who manage to straddle the line between delicate, almost ethereal beings, to leaders forged from steel. Kind words are laced with venom, their heads held high as they enter the room, commanding her attention each and every time. She seeks to emulate them, aspiring to garner the same respect as they do.

Conversation frequently touches on a topic she’s heard countless times before: blood purity, especially in the current political climate. It’s a “you are either with us or against us” mentality. To no one’s surprise, majority wins—the idea pureblood reigns supreme—leaving little to no room for objections. Not that she has any, of course. The consequences that lay ahead for the rebels and martyrs is far from pretty. Muggles and muggle-borns alike are the equivalent of nothing in her eyes. That is, they aren’t the target of vitriol over their origins.

In fact, the first few interactions with new classmates at silhak goes down without a hitch. Unlike what relatives expect of her, insults don’t slip from her lips, nor does a student burst into tears from her intent to make their life a living hell. She’s calm, collected, acknowledging their presence, yet uneager to do more than engage in casual conversation. Although hatred isn’t evident, that does not mean she wishes to continue mingling with those who, in her eyes, lead “mediocre” lives due to their status. 

In addition to maintaining high grades and embodying the quintessential star student to a tee, preparations begin for life outside in the big, wide world, and seeing just who can get her there. Acquaintances are ranked according to what they offer. She sifts through each like a stack of cards, clutching closely to her chest those deemed useful in the future, while the others are carelessly tossed into a separate pile without even a second glance. Call it a case of self preservation in a world gone mad. 

They take three steps forward, she takes ten. They jump high, she jumps higher. Competition pushes her to surpass the rest and establish herself as a formidable opponent. The later years at sejong are spent in the company of various law books and notes, writing down theories and running over phrases for the umpteenth time until she emerges from the room with an aching hand and mild headache. Even then, it’s not enough. The mere thought of falling short and becoming a laughing stock, a tragic example of a pureblood failure, is one she desperately wants to avoid. 

Hard work is eventually rewarded, albeit with a few gentle pull of the strings behind the scenes, she earns a position as an assistant in the law offices. In a workplace full of wolves, she’s the wolf disguised in sheep’s clothing, exuding an air of innocence despite being fully capable of tearing apart an unsuspecting victim. Passing gestures, comments, advice— she watches, listens, then carefully stores each to memory, nothing going unnoticed in her presence.

Brown nosing is an activity she regularly engages in. To rise up the ranks, it’s necessary to bite back comments threatening to fall from her lips, and conceal the irritation with a simple answer to the various demands and requests thrown in her direction. She accepts the tasks from superiors, no matter how monotonous they are, knowing the suffering is necessary for her to progress forward.

Right and wrong, good and evil. Rules are implemented to maintain law and order, although it’s the grey lurking in between the black and white that ultimately draws her attention. She toes the line to further her own agenda, reaching out to anyone who may be beneficial to her cause. Amazing, truly, what some expensive gifts can do to persuade them to do her bidding.

The world is hers for the taking. No obstacle can ruin plans that’s been in motion for as long as she can remember. She’s prepared for this, longed for this. Sights are firmly set on proving herself worthy of the heir title, at least for now it is. Once the crown is sitting pretty on her head, then who’s to say she isn’t interested in pursuing something more? Greed is her greatest sin, after all.

[unforgivablekrp-blog]

           THE SHRIEKING HARPY HAS THE SCOOP ON                                    the infamous yi wonbin !

— DID YOU KNOW?

Here’s what our columnist found out about this 24 year old...

blood status: pureblood lineage: n/a occupation: beater for the dashing dokkaebi   residence: mudang-ri wand: acacia wood & unicorn hair faction: death eaters alignment: corruption climbers organization: beater for the dashing dokkaebi silhak speciality: active magic sejong major: did not attend

— EXCLUSIVE INFORMATION!

Inside resources have said Wonbin...

smells petrichor, eucalyptus leaves, and matcha upon taking amortentia sees disembodiments when facing a boggart conjures a lynx when performing expecto patronus.

— HISTORY EXPOSED!

for the last 30 years, yi wonsook had always gotten what he wanted. the girl, the government career, and the indisputable prestige he always believed he deserved. as a high-ranked official for the magical trade department, wonsook’s resources and connections were filed and piled as the years passed by– broadly expanding his recognition within wizarding seoul. he had proved himself to be ambitious and reliable and patriotic. word of his good-doing and hard work with other wizarding communities had spread across the country and he became the paradigm of an exemplary korean wizard: diligent, successful, and most importantly, pureblood. receiving his heir had only been the cherry on top. yi wonbin was born on a cold winter break– but the anticipation for wonsook’s firstborn ran high and ablazed. his father’s abilities went without saying, but his mother was kim dayoung, an equally distinguished witch from the kim lineage and a famous quidditch player. the magical powers the child of wonsook and dayoung could harness could be incredible, and not a single wizard (that mattered, of course) missed the opportunity to take a glance over at the future and congratulate the couple on their newborn baby. yi wonbin possessed the seeds of greatness, and it would be up to wonsook and dayoung to harvest them properly.

as expected, wonbin grew to be a wizard with great potential. it was a striking moment of epiphany for his parents when they watched their son’s little fingers curl firmly around his first wand and weave it like he’s done it for centuries (when he had merely imitated what he had seen from his parents). wonbin attended silhak like most wizards his age and excelled in about every subject they introduced– including and most especially, quidditch. he played the sport for the duration of his school years and led his team to many victories as the beater which absolutely delighted his mother, who had been a chaser in her time, but nonetheless, making her very proud. wonbin had always been a showy type of individual; from his position in quidditch that demanded attention and power to being a part of an important pureblood wizard family. he was intimidating, and dark– stern in the face and there was something reckless and arrogant about him like no one could touch him but no one could ever guess the deep repulse he held for the muggle kind that infested his school. he knew better than most of the thick-headed and outspoken bullies– he was much smarter. ‘mudblood’ stuck to his tongue like saliva but never left it, his snickers were sharp and criticisms flowed under his breath as he watched their lesson attempts fail repeatedly, and wonbin would make absolutely sure to bludgeon the muggleborns of the opposing quidditch team just a bit more than the rest.

the muggles were a menace to humanity and a blight in the wizarding world. this was obvious to young wonbin when his father would come home from his trips from around the globe, describing the destruction and the endless wars muggles brought on to every corner of the world. they were a poison and now they’ve brought their depravity to their perfect system– to their perfect world. it was infuriating. naturally, wonbin felt compelled to share his feelings with his peers at silhak and was drawn to his fellow purebloods that felt the same. one door led to another, and wonbin eventually found himself amongst the masses of death eaters by the time he had graduated the silhak school of wizardry. despite the alarming number of muggle sympathizers growing in seoul, wonbin’s future looked bright with the multitudes of newts under him and his admission into the sejeong institute of advanced magicks. but with his newfound loyalty to the death eaters, something even better was quick to come along. the grandest of opportunities. somehow, someway, a spot in the nation’s best quidditch team opened up and it had been offered to him. he hadn’t seen his family beam with more pride than the day he was formally inducted into the team. it had been the happiest moment of his life. with no choice but to put his admittance to sejeong on hold, wonbin instead put his blood, sweat and tears playing for the dashing dokkebis while also using his public image to its fullest advantages for the death eaters. his resources were steady and his tenure unyielding to only them because wonbin knew that not only would he end up on the right side of history, but he’d also come out to be on top…. like it was always meant to be.

[unforgivablekrp-blog]

           THE SHRIEKING HARPY HAS THE SCOOP ON                                  the infamous jung jihoon !

— DID YOU KNOW?

Here’s what our columnist found out about this 26 year old...

blood status: pureblood lineage: jung family occupation: publicity manager for the institute for advancement of magical research  residence: mabeob-gu wand: hornbeam & doxy wing faction: death eater alignment: silver spoons organization: publicity manager for the institute for advancement of magical research silhak speciality: active magic sejong major: interwizard relations

— EXCLUSIVE INFORMATION!

Inside resources have said Jihoon...

smells autumn rain, coffee, and lily of the valley upon taking amortentia sees himself as a muggle when facing a boggart conjures a mink when performing expecto patronus.

— HISTORY EXPOSED!

WARY - adjective feeling or showing caution about possible dangers or problems.

Jung; the final pure bloodline to join ranks with the High Council; the only family to have amassed enough prestige to be invited after its inception. But, three hundred-some years of loyal service and the Jungs are still intent on proving their worth. The founding families have twice the number of years served and when the biggest hurdle in a race is time, there’s no easily catching up. Some might assume the Jungs are destined to carry the traditional ‘maknae’ stigma until the organization falls; forever the youngest, forever last, forever catering to those who came before. But the Jungs are ambitious. The Jungs are resilient and prove their worth over and over again. The Jungs are considered nouveau riche to the other families, but there’s much to be said for the modernization and advancement of magical society. The Jungs have an agenda and the other council members are right to be wary.

ANTITHESIS - noun a person or thing that is the direct opposite of someone or something else.

The first Jung heir is female and the most beautiful baby anyone has seen in an age. Whether that is flattery or honesty, her proud parents agree. If your blood is as undiluted of magic as the Jungs, the sex of your child is irrelevant, but surely it’d take some of the burdens from their beautiful first born if the second was male. A physically strong and bold heir with broad shoulders to bear the brunt of what a Jung must endure; surely that is a justified circumstance to hope for. Their second child is soon on the way and when he arrives, it seems maybe they had in fact been hoping for too much. He is an ugly, ugly boy. The Jung’s first and ultimately sole male heir is a scrawny little beast with beady black eyes. He’s the absolute antithesis of the beautiful, doll-like girl that came before him. It felt like they’d somehow birthed one angelic infant and the next, a manifestation of the vile secrets and misdeeds of their lineage; a demon.

SUPERIORITY - noun the state of being superior

If you’re a Jung, it doesn’t matter if your mother prefers to keep a blanket over your head as she feeds you. If you’re a Jung, it doesn’t matter if your father grimaces when he’s forced to acknowledge you. If you’re a Jung, it doesn’t matter that your closest childhood friends are house elves. If you’re a Jung, you’re impervious to the judgment of others because you’re raised knowing that, despite other perceived shortcomings, you’re better than the others. You’re a pureblood wizard. Somehow he keeps this at the forefront of his mind instead of focusing on what is lacking in his life.

NEGLECT - verb fail to care for properly.

Jihoon is deprived of affection from his parents, but more detrimentally, he is deprived of discipline. He becomes the hellion that he resembles. He is a surly little brute; stubborn and mischievous. His parents would rather tend to the girls so he’s put with hired help that can’t possibly control him but are paid handsomely for short lived attempts. Jihoon is five years old when he learns of a wizard who is so powerful that people fear to say his name aloud. He is six years old when this man overthrows the widely accepted school of thought amongst wizards across the world and imposes his own ideals upon the survivors. They’re the same ideals that Jihoon has been taught since he was old enough to understand the concept of Muggle and magic folk. He feels his trust in what his parents have taught him is justified.

He’s intensely jealous when his sister attends school and he’s stuck at home, locked securely behind the high gates of their family estate. Magic comes easily to him but there is also an underlying worry that probably plagues many pureblood wizards; if you’re going to go around proclaiming that you’re better than everyone else - you had better be able to prove it. He’s ahead of the game when he starts at Silhak the following year, but there’s still that troubling little detail of how homely the child is.

SUPERFICIALITY - noun lack of thoroughness, depth of character, or serious thought.

Being ugly taught Jihoon a lot of things and gave him a lot of opportunities that he probably wouldn’t have otherwise appreciated. It taught him that life isn’t always fair and that you can be tremendously talented or have superior genes, but there will always be people who only see what’s outside. It taught him who his true friends were. Sure, there were children who attempted to get close because of his family name, but they didn’t last. Faced with humiliation by associating with a high profile troublemaker who was not only ugly but genuinely weird, well, it’s a lot to handle for most kids. It taught Jihoon how to win over the people who did value beauty and aesthetics; taught him how to charm and flatter them without speaking to his own assets. It taught him to develop hobbies and skills because he wasn’t going to get by with his face. It taught him the importance of observation in those situations where he was being ignored. And most importantly, it taught him the delights of being consistently underestimated and proving people wrong.

SERENDIPITOUS - adjective occurring or discovered by chance in a happy or beneficial way.

An important fact to mention is that, despite accepting that he was an unattractive child, Jihoon didn’t feel in the least that he was any less of a person or wizard than prettier classmates. The good ole’ death eater upbringing saw to that. But thankfully, puberty was kind to Jihoon. Far kinder than any person in his life, despite such a privileged existence. He sprung up in height and his voice dipped to a smooth baritone. He grew into big dark eyes and his features matured, even if his persona had not. He’s still on the thin side but overall, his appearance greatly improved. The upgrade, however, did nothing to alter his already out of control behavior except that he now understood the luxury of being able to get away with murder by using his looks and acting cute. His circle of friends expanded now that people were willing to give his quirkiness a chance with handsomeness added to the menu. He’d accumulated quite a few impressive hobbies during lonely holiday breaks, the most impressive of which led to him starting a rock band named ‘Wizard Chess.’ He then not only had friends from that point on but fans too.

RECONCILIATION - noun the restoration of friendly relations.

His family came around as he gradually began to mellow. Don’t misunderstand, he was quite the delinquent through the end of his years at Silhak, but eventually, his family came to understand him and how the roles they’d played in his life, or lack thereof, had come to shape him. He’s unconventional, to say the least, but Jihoon continues to surprise those who underestimate him. His incidences of punishment became less and less, not because he was reforming, but because he had learned how to cover his tracks and not get caught breaking the rules.

Jihoon didn’t take much interest in his familial connection to the Institute for the Advancement of Magical Research until starting at Sejong. Truth be told, his father paraded his sisters around the facility like prize peahens but he was not permitted to set foot inside. There was no telling what damage he would do, whether accidental or otherwise. From his own personal experience allowing his mouth to run before his brain caught up and doing his best to smooth over the resulting aftermath, he began to contemplate a career where he could utilize such a skill. Not to mention, he loves being the center of attention and convincing others to see things his way.

PRIME - noun a state or time of greatest strength, vigor, or success in a person’s life.

The climate is tense in wizarding Seoul and Jihoon feeds off of the strained atmosphere. Things haven’t been this interesting since he was a child and ‘you know who’ was stirring shit up across the pond. Jihoon is happy to play his part in shaking up the monotony of things with a bold, fresh outlook but he’s surprisingly transparent when it comes to speaking his mind. While he’s not fond of others knowing the extent of such intimate details or his inner workings, for now, he’s taken a firm stand with the Cult and their warranted muggle concerns. Letting the elder generations ponder over his death eater loyalties and whether he took the dark mark because it makes a pretty bad-ass tattoo is his current favorite topic on which to eavesdrop. Whether he’s a man thinking out of the box or completely out of his mind, is a close second.

[unforgivablekrp-blog]

           THE SHRIEKING HARPY HAS THE SCOOP ON                                    the infamous go yohan !

— DID YOU KNOW?

Here’s what our columnist found out about this 24 year old...

blood status: half blood lineage: n/a occupation: potioneer at an apothecary in mudang-ri  residence: mudang-ri wand: hemlock & doxy wing faction: order of the phoenix alignment: death crew organization: n/a silhak speciality: potions  sejong major: potions

— EXCLUSIVE INFORMATION!

Inside resources have said Name...

smells apples, ginger, and cedarwood upon taking amortentia sees a burning apple tree when facing a boggart conjures a coyote when performing expecto patronus.

— HISTORY EXPOSED!

it is march when yohan is born. apples fall sweet and red off the trees outside his window while his mother nurses him to sleep, alone, no father to be found. when he’s a little older, a curious young thing, he wonders why his grandpa is the one who reads him bedtime stories and where is his dad, anyway? his mom paints a story of a hero, a firefighter who died while trying to save lives. his dad is in a better place now, she says, and he’s too young to catch the derision in her voice.

the go apple farm on the outskirts of daegu is an amusement park to young yohan. he can’t sit still when there are apples to pick, hills to run on, trucks to ride with the window all the way down on the way to the market. life is easy when he’s four, five, six and all he knows is the farm. but everything complicates when he turns seven and notices the worry in his mom’s eyes as she flips through the mail. he wonders and gets his answer when he wakes up later that night to a poorly hushed argument between his mom and grandpa.

and so it is march again when yohan is reborn a wizard. he is disillusioned now, though, a seed of anger planted in the pit of his stomach when his grandpa tells him the truth. he’s a half blood, his dad very much alive and pure blood, his mom a squib, his grandpa muggle born. these words are all new, foreign, spinning his head, but the worst is the third label he’s given that night, the one word he does know: an accident. the product of a one night affair influenced by too much firewhiskey.

for a son of a pure blood, death eater family trying to climb the political ranks, finding out about yohan’s existence is a nightmare. so his dad pays for the nightmare to go away and tells yohan’s mom to leave wizarding seoul to keep his bloodline clean and because, “you’re just a squib, what good are you here anyway?” he pays for her silence, for her to birth him in a muggle hospital, for her to write down “father unknown” on his birth certificate. and she obliges. not out of greed or financial need, but out of exhaustion and the lack of will to fight back anymore. having grown up magic-less in wizarding seoul exposed her to various insults, and she’d had enough.

there is irritation in yohan, but there is also intrigue when his grandpa lights the tip of his wand with nothing more than an incantation and a swish of his wrist. he is seven, after all, and he could use a little bit of magic after losing the illusion of a heroic father. so he goes, moves to wizarding seoul with his grandpa and attends silhak wide-eyed and eager.

still, he grows up with anger brewing inside him just waiting to bubble over, every look of judgment, every snide remark stirring the pot. while he’s young, it manifests as small pranks on the prejudice pure bloods, from slipping them hiccough sweets to setting off dungbombs, anything to discomfort them even mildly. but as he grows, so does his anger and arsenal of pranks, transforming from mild inconveniences to sometimes dangerous. they come with repercussions, of course, but that never stops yohan, especially not when headlines in the herald show his father moving up in the council, the new administrator of the department for regulation of magical creatures.

he is twenty when it happens, freshly graduated from silhak and as determined as ever to take his dad down. and so he groups up with the death crew in hopes of eventually exacting revenge on his father, uses his specialty to brew polyjuice, veritaserum, and other potions, some recipes self made and experimental, to aid the crew’s mission.

now, yohan sees red more often than not, but there are still hints of the boy who grew up on an apple farm. he is impulsive, daring, brash, callous and sarcastic, and it seems a wonder he has an affinity for and a talent in the subtle and precise art of potion making. but those exact reasons are why he does. when he brews potions, he sees the green of herbs and other ingredients instead of the boiling red. there is no rage, just him and his cauldron and a brief moment of calmness and clarity of mind.

and in the palpable tension of wizarding seoul along with his blinding determination to take his father down, those moments are essential.

[unforgivablekrp-blog]

           THE SHRIEKING HARPY HAS THE SCOOP ON                                 the infamous song hansol !

— DID YOU KNOW?

Here’s what our columnist found out about this 24 year old...

blood status: half blood lineage: n/a occupation: chaser for the dashing dokkaebi  residence: mabeob wand: sequoia & phoenix feather faction: order of the phoenix alignment: muggle support organization: chaser for the dashing dokkaebi silhak speciality: herbology sejong major: did not attend

— EXCLUSIVE INFORMATION!

Inside resources have said Hansol...

smells pine trees, smoke, wildflowers, and rain upon taking amortentia sees his mother when facing a boggart conjures a border collie when performing expecto patronus.

— HISTORY EXPOSED!

Hansol is born, he thinks, to muggles. His life is simple, on a little island called Geoje, just off the coast of the peninsula, a quick jaunt from Busan. His mother is kind and sweet, his father is stern but means well.

His father makes a living on the docks, in a situation that seems it could have come out of a story book from an older time, but Hansol likes his life on the island. He likes the salt spray and soccer games, he likes swimming. He likes his thick satoori and his deep tan and the scars that line the back of his left calf from the time he slid off the dock and scraped against sharp barnacles on his way down. He remembers the way the salt stung and burned in the wound and the murky green of the water around him and the strong arms of his father pulling him back onto the safe, weathered wood of the dock.

His mother is a school teacher, so one would think that Hansol studies well, but he doesn’t. He prefers the sun on his skin and adrenaline in his veins, suffers when he’s forced to sit still. His attention wanders and his eyes lose focus and he dozes off too easily.

He loves one thing more than anything else, however, and that is story time. Every night as a child, his mother sits at his bedside and reads aloud to him. While it’s difficult for him to follow words on the page without confusion or distraction, his mother’s voice reenacts those words with a quiet lilt that brings it all to life before his eyes, sends him to sleep with pleasant dreams of witches and wizards and wands, faraway places.

He’s seven when he finds out those stories aren’t so fake after all, and his mother cries into her hands. He wonders why she’s so sad, to find out about this wondrous world alongside him? He’s thrilled, personally.

HIs father explains later what a squib is, how while he himself is a muggle, Sol’s mother came from a family of witches and wizards, and had waited so anxiously and desperately for her letter which never came, and had been so brokenhearted when the world she had been born into eventually rejected her that she had cut herself off entirely.

SIlhak is a whole new world for Hansol, a dream of a place that offers him real and practical lessons in so many ways, things that allow him to swish and flick and do real, active, creative things with nothing but his hands and a bit of wood.

And quidditch, when he discovers it, becomes his passion. The feeling of flying, wind in his hair, the athleticism of it and the danger - he’s addicted immediately.

He has little tolerance for those who look at him with disdain. He knows the reasons on paper: he’s a half blood, and sort of in a sense as good as a muggle born. But he’s overwhelmed in a new world of wonder and possibility and has little concern for that.

His carefree attitude and easy charm make him likable enough to all but the most prejudiced, and his quidditch prowess certainly helps.

He finds himself entranced with herbology, rich soil and strange plants. The study of magical creatures is similarly enticing, the creatures of childhood stories coming to life in front of him. It strikes him as fascinating and impossible, how these secrets have been kept so long and from so many. He spends countless hours on the quidditch pitch and in the green houses, until sweat and steam curl his hair at the temples, paint his cheeks red from exertion or the humid climate.

Leaving Silhak means finding a path and as with so many things in his life, Sol seems to stumble into it, scouted during a game for the Dashing Dokkaebi. His skills are undeniable, his rise is quick, and with it his popularity.

There’s a niche in the celebrity market, it turns out, for a bronze skinned semi-muggle quidditch player, with an interesting background and a bright smile and a silly laugh, and he finds himself suddenly much more important than he’s ever been before. He’s nothing particularly huge, but he lands in the pages of the Harpy every so often, and it never fails to amuse him.

He tries not to visit his mother, but he misses her. The tension between them is uncomfortable now, and he misses sometimes, the days when these things were all stories.

When she dies, he’s twenty two. He’s wracked with tension and with guilt. He hadn’t even known she was sick -she’d never mentioned. His father hadn’t either. Hadn’t wanted to worry him, the man said, but they both knew the truth. Hansol had been too painful a presence for his mother, ever since the letter. He lays flowers on her grave by the seaside and adds this oversight, this moment, to his list of regrets.

He takes a three month leave of absence from the team and cultivates a new hobby in his crippling depression and alcoholism. He drowns himself in his regrets until a friend and roommate force him to snap out of it, stage an intervention, hex him to hell and back.

When he returns to the team he works harder than ever, buries regret and uncertainty in his passions, finds himself allying with the Order in an expected enough move, but more involved now than he had been before, eager to preserve the rights of those like his mother, like his father, who are overlooked and pushed down by the prejudices of wizardkind.

[unforgivablekrp-blog]

           THE SHRIEKING HARPY HAS THE SCOOP ON                                    the infamous yoon sumi !

— DID YOU KNOW?

Here’s what our columnist found out about this 23 year old...

blood status: mixed blood lineage: vampire ancestry occupation: student and part time waitress residence: gwishin-dong wand: blue spruce & hippogriff talon  faction: order of the phoenix alignment: death crew organization: n/a silhak speciality: active magic  sejong major: combat magic

— EXCLUSIVE INFORMATION!

Inside resources have said Sumi...

smells copper, salt water, and grass upon taking amortentia sees the dead bodies of her brothers when facing a boggart conjures a moose when performing expecto patronus.

— HISTORY EXPOSED!

Tell the story, one more time. The one of the wizard who fell in love with a beautiful witch. It’s the same, like any other, except that maybe the witch came from uncommon heritage, and that the pair may had ran away from their families and eloped like a couple of star crossed lovers. Except that there were no disapproving relatives and it was mostly only the couple’s flair for the dramatic and love of freedom and each other. Both of their families were in fact extremely accommodating, though always a little worried at the couple’s tendency to disappear and then come back with a baby in their arms.

It was in the cold climes of Russia that the first son was born, and the second son under the sun in Morocco, and the third, a daughter, among the green fields of New Zealand. The youngest was still swaddled in blankets when the family of five returned to Korea, their parents leaving them with relatives this time to go off on their next adventure as the oldest was now seven and would start going to school. Despite the distance, letters and gifts always poured in for the three siblings, and though they sometimes moved from house to house, each relative was kind and caring and their parents always made it a point to drop by and see them a few times a year. It was certainly unconventional, but far from unhappy.

Anytime the oldest had a break from school, the parents always whisked the children away on another trip. By the time the second one was in school, the letters were less frequent, and the visits even rarer. Sumi was still far too young to understand what was happening as their relatives frantically tried to fill in the gap her parents were leaving behind. A year before she was to start going to school, the letters stopped altogether.

It was strange, and jarring. There were no bodies to mourn, nor any final word on what happened. The letters just stopped, and her relatives filled in the blanks, but for the three children left behind it only felt like lies being spoon fed to them. For Sumi she just knew she missed the letters and the stories they would bring. She missed the little trinkets and baubles they would gift her, little mementos of the places they went and that she wondered if she’ll ever see. So, with a heavy heart she entered her first year of school. Dazed and distant, she did well enough in her classes but never with her classmates. There was no interest, no motivation for her to get to know any of them. She only came alive in the presence of her brothers, as they regaled her stories from the childhood she was too young to remember, and often in languages only they could understand between each other. It was the closest Sumi could get, the closest any of them could get, to feeling like their parents had never left. Maybe it was just an especially long journey, maybe they were on some grand adventure that prevented them from sending them anything. It was nice to dream.

The harsh reality is that whatever distance she had made when she first started school only grew the more she looked to her brothers for company, and the terrible realization that even that was temporary. All too soon, the oldest had started boarding at Silhak, and it was one less brother home everyday, and even if they were still in the same school, schedules never really allowed Sumi time to see him. It was only at the urging of her other brother that she tried to get to know some of the other children. Making friends was challenging but not necessarily impossible and little lonely Sumi clung to whoever stretched out a hand. She needed them, as first one brother and then the next started staying at the school, her home felt too quiet, too empty without her brothers.

Adjusting to an everyday life without her brothers was far more jarring than the absence of her parents. She had strangely learned to stop missing them, or maybe it was her lack of knowing them that made it easy to move on. Either way, it was far more challenging for her to get used to not seeing her brothers, though they always made it a point to keep in touch with letters and spending all their time with her during breaks. Yet it was those same interactions that made it feel strangely nostalgic, and equally horrifying. She worried the letters would stop, and the visits as well, and knowing that she was too young, too far behind to join them did nothing to still her worries.

Comfort came in the transition from childhood to adolescence. New perspectives, new feelings, new experiences. Like the ache of her heart when a bright eyed and curious boy would smile at her. She knew him, they were familiar, a friend from earlier days. Always a smile, always a joke to coax a laugh out of her. The fluttering of affections between the two was met with the usual disdain and scolding of them being too young. They don’t know these feelings, what it really means, it’ll pass. The years passed with whispered adorations, until they were old enough to board and their declarations were more open.

Yet, while this one aspect of her life was going well, other things were not. School was one thing to adjust to, the other was life outside of their home and school. In a way, the schools were a sort of safe space, where they could just be them and while they weren’t cut off from what was happening outside of that space, it didn’t affect them too much. All it took was the influence of the oldest, and the influences around him. There was never much thought given to their heritage, or if it really mattered. It never came up in conversations between them because there was nothing different about it. But one summer the harsh truth bubbled to the surface. It came in harsh letters, bruises blooming on skin. And all only on the middle sibling. It lit a fire, a desire, a need, to look after what they had. And questions. Suddenly, perhaps the disappearance of their parents didn’t seem so strange, and as far as the oldest was concerned it had to be these dark wizards who had taken root in other parts of the world.

Of course, whether Death Eaters were actually behind their parents’ deaths was highly debatable. There was no truly knowing anymore, but the momentum was in motion and there was no quenching the flames in the oldest’s need for vengeance. The second wanted nothing to do with it, even opting for a life outside of the wizarding world they knew so well, but Sumi … She always had nothing but admiration for the older brother she saw as a shining example. He was everything she aspired to be, for good or bad.

It was a gradual transformation. Mild mannered and almost aloof, Sumi’s renewed vigor against Death Eaters caused a fracture in the relationships that were. So, she poured herself into her studies, following in her brother’s foot steps in the same studies, the same specialties. With each passing year she found a new reason to hate them more, but really wasn’t this all just misplaced blame? Logic had left them, making way for a desperate need to fill in blanks made long ago, not satisfied with whatever rose coloured excuses they were left with before. Not even the gentle urgings of the brother left behind could coax the two from their path. They at least had the sense to not wave a banner above their heads, affording both a chance to live without much interruption, but it always just bubbled underneath the surface, and sometimes it boiled over. Eventually this lead to trouble for the older brother, eventually causing him to go into hiding and Sumi was left to her own devices.

While a poignant reminder for her to not overreach, it did nothing to change her views, but instead gave her more reason to demand action. Or, at least remind some that she still had fangs.

[unforgivablekrp-blog]

           THE SHRIEKING HARPY HAS THE SCOOP ON                                    the infamous fukui kousei !

— DID YOU KNOW?

Here’s what our columnist found out about this 23 year old...

blood status: pureblood lineage: n/a occupation: wandmaker’s apprentice  residence: mudang-ri wand: ivy & kappa scale (11″ & flexible) faction: neutral alignment: n/a organization: n/a silhak speciality: magical theory (attended mahoutokoro in japan instead of silhak) sejong major: n/a

— EXCLUSIVE INFORMATION!

Inside resources have said Kousei...

smells horses, ice, fresh barbecue, and an old forest upon taking amortentia sees his own body brutally mutilated when facing a boggart conjures a falcon when performing expecto patronus.

— HISTORY EXPOSED!

kousei is born to one of japan’s most magically talented families, one of an exclusive few with magic deeper in their blood than most. some have existed for centuries, some are only just coming into their own. no matter what, though, they have a their niche in society. they produce the seers and the diviners, the intuitive wandmakers and prodigy potionsmasters. it’s nothing official, but the expectations hang heavy and silent.

he is chosen as the best candidate for the next wandmaker, as the current one is looking to retire. his path is laid out before him.

compared to other children of these niche families, kousei is practically normal.

he distinctly remembers receiving his first wand. the old man at the wand shop moved to an unsettling rhythm, almost swinging on his feet. his gaze felt like a knife, cutting away pre-pubescent insecurities to see the very core of kousei’s being. the dust and smell of pure magic clung heavy to his nostrils. kousei couldn’t imagine himself becoming that old man, so docile but for some reason so terrifying.

kousei begins to attend mahoutokoro at age seven, and he finds he has a stronger initial control over his magic than most of his peers.

accidental jibes towards “how lucky he is” to have such a certain future create jealousy, and cause kousei to distance himself from his peers, as he feels that, if anything, he is unlucky because they have freedom to pursue whatever they’d like.

at fourteen he realizes how lonely he had become, and decides to compensate for it. he works his hardest to be entertaining and likable. however, he still feels his fears will not be taken seriously, and keeps them to himself.

in his final year at mahoutokoro, acting the way he has is exhausting. he stops trying so hard to please his peers, but the habits are hard to break.

after graduation, he begins his apprenticeship to the wandmaker in tokyo, who is nothing like the ghost of his childhood memories. instead, he’s a happy, if frail, old man that now stands a head shorter than kousei.

he spends his first year learning the basics, and finds that wandmaking comes surprisingly easy to him - it’s even enjoyable. for the first time since early childhood, kousei doesn’t feel that he’s being forced into this position.

the traditional apprenticeship of the tokyo wandmaker after mastering the basics consists of ten trials that must be completed correctly on the first attempt, or the apprentice is either dismissed or must begin again.

kousei completes the first trial - an introspective assignment, creating a new wand for himself - with a certain amount of ease. he picks ivy to showcase his skills as a wand-carver and for its strength, and kappa shell to represent his newfound pride in becoming japan’s next wandmaker, as well as its rarity and its partiality to the charms he would have to perform to create more wands in the future.

the second trial is to travel around the world learning from various wandmakers and gathering rare, regional supplies to stock the shop in tokyo.

at first it goes quite smoothly - kousei picks up sequoia in the united states, spends a short while with european wandmakers, and even visits african wizards and studies their wandless magic. his status as a wandmaker’s apprentice has made him a fairly inoffensive party and japan’s neutrality on the struggles between the order and the death eaters allowed his travels to barely be impacted by political strife. seeing the world opens his eyes and he begins to mature, understanding other better, though parts of his mischievous schoolboy persona remain.

south korea is his final stop. the cult of the moon, in addition to death eaters, members of the order, and the occasional wizard with a historical grudge against japan have made his stay more nerve-wracking than anywhere else - especially since he’s supposed to spend at least six months learning new techniques (and the language) from seoul’s wandmakers. as close to home as he is, kousei can’t give up, or he’ll have to start his apprenticeship all over again.

[unforgivablekrp-blog]

           THE SHRIEKING HARPY HAS THE SCOOP ON                                   the infamous ahn miso !

— DID YOU KNOW?

Here’s what our columnist found out about this 22 year old...

blood status: pureblood lineage: n/a occupation: chaser for the dashing dokkaebi  residence: gwishin-dong wand: phoenix tail feather & rosewood faction: order of the phoenix alignment: muggle support organization: n/a silhak speciality: active magic sejong major: did not attend

— EXCLUSIVE INFORMATION!

Inside resources have said Name...

smells clean linen, coffee beans, and lavender upon taking amortentia sees a snake when facing a boggart conjures a dog when performing expecto patronus.

— HISTORY EXPOSED!

ahn miso was born in mabeob-gu to an upper-class pure-blooded family, the fifth and final child to two lawyers of the korean magical council. her family was close-minded to the idea of muggle-borns in the wizarding world, her parents constantly pushing their beliefs of pure-blood superiority on the children. in miso’s case, however, they never really influenced her as much as the others given their lack of time spent with her due to work. they would’ve thought the other children might make up for it when they spent time with miso but instead they placed her on a broom stick as early as they could and taught her how to fly.

miso grew up a curious, open-minded child, so when her parents might’ve told her to stay away from muggles and muggleborns alike as they were unintelligent and foolish, miso wanted to see for herself. in her experiences with muggleborns, she found them to neither be unintelligent or foolish but rather became friends with them. she genuinely liked them and found herself to be no different than how they were, a mindset totally different from her parents’.

although she differed from her parents greatly on the topic of muggles, miso never really spoke up about it but kept quiet. on break from school one year, her parents found out that their youngest daughter had associated herself with muggleborns and had become their friend. that didn’t necessarily anger them completely; instead, they’d sat her down and told her calmly all the horrible things muggles do and “how” they can be. but miso refused to listen to them speak and argued back, defending her friends. this angered her parents.

they began to enforce their beliefs and ideals on her more than before, in some cases teaching miso dark magic as her father was apart of the death eaters. they were stricter as well, taking away her broomstick until she distanced herself from her friends. it was a dark period for young miso as she would cry too often and would practically never crack a smile.

all this finally ended when she graduated from silhak and was given an invitation by a fellow peer to align herself with the order of the phoenix. her cult of the moon family wouldn’t hear this, she knew, as they were for the government and against any resistance effort. but miso was strong in her beliefs and accepted.

it didn’t surprise her when her parents kicked her out of the family estate. miso handled it well, taking all her belongings and her beloved broomstick to gwishin-dong where her friends were. they took her in and helped her get back on her feet. a job coming in the form of team tryouts for new alternates of south korea’s famous quidditch team, the dashing dokkaebi, came for miso. her only skill was flying and playing quidditch at that point, so obviously she tried out. she made the team as an alternate chaser, but as one of the team’s starter chasers became permanently injured no soon after, miso was promoted to a starter.

miso currently is a well-known korean quidditch player with her position on the national team, but a member of the order as well. continuously, she voices her support for muggles, defending them whenever given the chance.

[unforgivablekrp-blog]

           THE SHRIEKING HARPY HAS THE SCOOP ON                                    the infamous choi sua !

— DID YOU KNOW?

Here’s what our columnist found out about this 24 year old...

blood status: muggle born lineage: n/a occupation: student & photographer  residence: gwishin-dong wand: willow & unicorn hair ( 10 ½" and slightly yielding flexibility ) faction: neutral alignment: muggle support organization: photographer for the augury silhak speciality: potions sejong major: arts

— EXCLUSIVE INFORMATION!

Inside resources have said Sua...

smells petrichor, fresh laundry, and lemons upon taking amortentia sees random people coming out and surrounding her (attention) when facing a boggart conjures a white mare when performing expecto patronus.

— HISTORY EXPOSED!

      There was a hunch in a six year old Sua‘s mind that she was a different pea in a pot full of muggles the second she wished for the classroom windows to shatter and distract the boy who kept kicking her seat while the rest of her classmates giggled. If only she had a voice loud enough and stance big enough to tell them off instead of shrinking three times her already small size. Sua could only ever wish for them to stop, wish for a distractions or proper adult supervision. Though, hadn‘t she blocked her voice off and fought, the classroom windows would have never shattered. She only remembered the panic in the room once the glass gracefully split in multiple pieces and fell with a deafening thud, as she stayed in her seat, staring while a phrase kept appearing in her mind „I did this“.

      Joining a new school, a school full of her own, as some say, should have been her gateway to becoming a whole person. Though, not having close to any social skills only thickened her shy exterior and she walked the hallways of Silhak school on her own, swaying away from any possible contact or interactions and quickly earning the title of a loner, which even got a certain spice to it as soon as snarkier peers figured out that she was no more but a muggle born student.

      Born into a borderline middle-class muggle family, they never had a lot. And a sudden reveal of the magic that laid within the daughter of the Choi household had her parents struggling to cope emotionally and financially. The only thing Sua ever received on her birthday was money that she could use to buy books for school. Therefore, when in her sixth year of Shilak she received a small box instead of an envelope, curiosity and surprise burned her from within. A white, simple digital camera lied in it and Sua‘s own thoughts muted out the sound of her parents explaining that they wanted to get her something she could make memories with. Though, all that crossed Sua‘s mind was whether there would be any use of the camera in the magic world.

      By year seven the loner became a loner with a camera. Honestly, Sua was not that sure whether the rules even allowed her to carry around an apparatus from the muggle world in school and the magic districts, but hiding behind it, looking at the world around her through the viewfinder had her straighten her frame and gain confidence. It was like her shield, as long as Sua stood behind it, she had a voice. A barely audible one, but it was a voice. That’s why to this day she looks at people through the viewfinder of the camera that she purchased in Gwishin-dong after saving money for five years and buying fifth-hand books instead of new ones.

      The ways people reacted to a shadow presence like Sua herself seemed to range from mundane like curiosity to resenting remarks. Those she captured it the form of frowning faces and open mouths. Looking back at the pictures of muted screaming people made the fear of those who pushed her around, especially those who lived by the rules of the Cult grow in her with every frame she took. There was always something in their eyes that made her feel weak and vigorously hide who she was. As she moved on to the Sejong Institute to study art, her forceful ignorance of the overpowering feeling consuming her from within had played her like a puppet, as Sua became borderline irrational towards most pure bloods as their presence fettered her limbs. That’s how Sua started searching for places of safety, one of which just happened to become the Muggle Support. It was a place of solace where Sua finally managed to put her camera down and look the other people in the eye. Words did not leave her mouth for a moment or two, but as the people of similar mindset spoke, a sense of familiarity lulled her into speaking as she went trough each picture she took on her camera and the emotions the frames had her feeling, as in between every other shot of whatever was happening in the wizarding world that week lied peaces of the mundane life - pictured taken in the secrecy of the house she grew up in or in the parks of muggle Seoul.

      The foreign feeling of speaking what she felt caught her off guard and swayed with her lightly, the sounds of the resistance becoming the music. It was then that she cracked, desperately grasping onto the hands of the fellow Muggle Support to implement a spur-of-the-moment act. Something that did not require a loud voice. It took the group three hours of constant moving to decorate the halls of Sejong Institute as well a part of Gwishin-dong streets in her own, two-set pictures. Ones showed the disarray that was the every day life of a wizard - moments of the protests, riots, some of the images visiting the hierarchy and implied supremacy of the pure blood wizards - something she had first hand knowledge of. Next to those pictures lied visually similar ones the student took in the sacredness of the mundane life from which she came from, ones of the highly resented muggle world. It was her own, silent form of protest against the spite, anger, hierarchy and everything else that came along with the organized chaos different ideologies caused. The on the spot exposition caused an uproar and the revolutionists whispered asking for a name. After two more similar occurrences she managed to pull off near the Institute and the Museum while keeping her stuttering presence in the darkness of the shadows, Sua ended up swearing to take the secret of The Augury to her grave, becoming a photographer for the famous resistance paper, as the show she put on drew their attention. Another chance to continue her small, barely verbal protest against the current world was handed to her in the form of the job along with a way to tame her paranoia and forget of the healing potions she kept in the pockets of her coat.

[unforgivablekrp-blog]

           THE SHRIEKING HARPY HAS THE SCOOP ON                                the infamous nam jaehwan !

— DID YOU KNOW?

Here’s what our columnist found out about this 25 year old...

blood status: pureblood lineage: n/a occupation: keeper for the dashing dokkaebi  residence: mudang-ri wand: holly & phoenix tail feather (not too long or short & flexible) faction: order of the phoenix alignment: blood traitor organization: keeper for the dashing dokkaebi silhak speciality: active magic sejong major: did not attend

— EXCLUSIVE INFORMATION!

Inside resources have said Jaehwan...

smells just brewed coffee, shampoo, and the sea before sunset upon taking amortentia sees a huge spider when facing a boggart conjures a lioness when performing expecto patronus.

— HISTORY EXPOSED!

i.  born in the first day of 1992, nam jaehwan didn’t cry one bit (or at least this is what his nanny always tells). he was born with his eyes wide open, looking around as if completely amazed by the world around him, as if he was expecting to come. and it is known, his nanny says, that a child that comes with their eyes open to the world is expecting to be born, excited, ready to start.

ii. right behind him, not even a minute after, she came, attached to his ankle, holding for dear life. that was how nam jaehwan and nam jiyeon were born: holding to each other. close. together. his nanny always tells this tale with a smile and then hugs them, gives them kisses on the top of their forehead as she says: “and that’s how you always have to be.”

iii. what a beautiful lie that was. but that comes later.

iv. to say that the nam twins are close is an understatement. as they grow wherever jaehwan is, jiyeon is not far behind. they play around together, they study together. two pure blood kids growing up is pretty much the same everywhere: privileged, wealthy, spoiled. jaehwan knows very little of the world besides the very little moments his mother takes them to town, away from the mansion.

v. when the first day of school comes jaehwan is not scared. he’s happy, excited. when jiyeon’s bottom lip shivers a bit, but just a bit, he holds her hand, smiles at her. and that’s how they enter through the doors that day: holding hands.

vi. his mother, their mother. a tall, lanky woman with long black hair and pointy face. she is beautiful, stunning, walks around the parties they attend with beautiful, colorful long dresses. jaehwan feels admiration towards her, love. but also this sick feeling to his stomach as they walk and he hears the whispers, the rumors. they call her a black widow, and once he heard they make bets of when his father will die.

vii. he dies one year later, when jaehwan is 13. he wonders if anyone won the bet.

viii. when jiyeon tells him she can hear thoughts, he believes her. when she tells him what she’s heard, he doesn’t. so he shows him because that’s what jiyeon does: takes him out of the dark, out of insanity. his mother has scars and tears, and it’s the tears that scare him. when he goes back to his room that night he breaks his father’s portrait, burns it. he’d never doubt his mother ever again.

ix. school comes and goes alarmingly fast, a stream of golden days that he can’t run back to. he remembers the first day: they are young, too young for this, and he and jiyeon enter the school while holding hands. he also remembers sunny days in the quidditch field, the people screaming and he’d always spot her in the crowd: his beautiful, magical, talented sister. his soulmate in everything, the one person he’d fight for, kill for.

x. another beautiful, beautiful lie.

xi. because once it happens, once he has to really fight for jiyeon he has to fight against himself. because as they grow he can’t help but feel as if their tight grasp to each other is breaking. when he buries another father (a father that has taught him about love, about character, about loyalship, about equality - about everything his mother is not) and watches his sister not shed one single tear, their mother holding her and jaehwan is on the sidelines it’s the first time he feels that he is a stranger.

xii. because every time his mother rants about the muggleborns jaehwan can’t help but feel upset at first, and then disgusted. he can’t help but feel embarrassment of his name, of what his blood stands for. he can’t help but leave dinner earlier because if he stays he will speak what’s in his mind and that is not something he wants to share.

xiii. not with his mother at least. by the look jiyeon throws at him he knows that she knows. she knows that he thinks his mother’s ideology is decadent, prejudiced, close minded. she knows that when he leaves the house he meets all kinds of people, that he doesn’t give a shit to what color their blood is. and he knows that something is about to be broken, about to be destroyed. and he is the one who has to do it.

xiv. he starts it slowly because he knows in any other way he can’t do it. when they finish school, jaehwan warns the two of them that he isn’t going to sejung. the dashing dokkaebi’s have called him for trials a month ago and he got accepted. his mother doesn’t say a thing. she just stands up, leaves. he can’t look at jiyeon’s face.

xx. when not even his own thoughts are safe there’s only one thing he can do: learn how to hide them.

xxi. and things start to get more serious. one day a friend invites him to a meeting, doesn’t tell him where it is and what it is about, only that he will like it. and when he arrives, listens, there’s a fire that boils inside him, one only tamed by guilt. because there is no other word for what he is doing: betrayal. he’s betraying his mother, betraying his sister, betraying his blood. and yet as he leaves the excitement shuts guilt up, makes it weaker. because for the first time jaehwan felt like he could be part of something: something he believes in, something he can pour his heart into. something real. xxii. most importantly: something he has to hide. he is more useful to the order while still being part of the world he hates. occlumency didn’t come easy, but after a while jaehwan masters it, keeps his thought safe, hidden, allowing to show only enough to not grow suspicion. but hiding from jiyeon’s reading eyes is not is, never is.

xxiii. a few months after he joins the dokkaebi’s starter team he leaves the house. the goodbyes are cold, nothing like he thought it’d be. he walks outside to apparate and when he looks back none of them are watching him leave. his heart aches as thoughts run through his mind and he tries to block them, scared of jiyeon hearing them. because even now, even when he is leaving he still doesn’t want jiyeon to heart, doesn’t want her to know that he feels relieved.

xxiv. when they see each other again, it’s christmas and jaehwan only attends out of goodwill. jiyeon is all pretty and dressed up, and she smiles at him. jaehwan’s heart aches.

“”wanting to leave already, brother? that’s positively unworthy of you.”

he frowns, annoyed.  “stop reading my mind, ji.”

the smile she offers him is beautiful, open. and a lie. a beautiful one. “i don’t need to read your mind to know you don’t want to be here,“ she is not smiling anymore, "and don’t call me that.”