Work Text:
The bell above the door chimed as someone stepped inside the shop. Mingi set his tools down and switched his headlamp off, wriggling his worn goggles up to his forehead. The toymaker stood, cracked his back, and made his way through the door of his workshop.
The door separated his workshop and the actual store where he sold his wares. Mingi nudged it mostly shut behind himself and stepped up to the counter.
“Good afternoon! Are we just browsing or was there something in particular you were after?” Mingi put on a polite smile that he hoped didn’t show how tired he was. The man seemed annoyed about being greeted.
“Afternoon,” he said after a moment of staring, “No, not looking for anything. I was wondering if you did repairs.” He gazed down his nose at Mingi, as if trying to assert that he was above the toymaker despite being shorter. His bright blue eyes were startling.
Mingi nodded, “Of course, have you brought whatever it is with you? Or just looking for a quote today?”
“No need for a quote.”
He did something strange then – he clicked his fingers a couple times, keeping his icy glare on the toymaker. Behind him, a tall figure shuffled into view from the maze of stocked displays. Mingi’s eyes widened slightly.
It was a doll. An animated doll.
He wore only a pair of loose black pants, with equally dark hair and eyes. His exposed body marked him clearly as a doll – his skin was a normal tone, but with a milky, almost translucent quality about it. Then there were the obvious doll joints.
The man whipped a folding fan from inside his dark suit jacket and whacked the doll with it, making him stumble forward a couple more steps. The doll did not look up from the floor.
Mingi quirked a brow at this odd interaction, but quickly schooled his expression when he looked back at the man.
“Looks fine to me, sir. Mind showing me what’s wrong with him?” Mingi leaned his forearms on the counter as the man whacked the doll with his fan again.
The doll turned around, revealing a section of his back that was cracked and caving in. Mingi frowned and leaned further over the counter to peer at the injury. He hummed, absently rubbing his finger over his lower lip, as he tried to see what sort of structure might be inside the doll.
He was obviously made of porcelain, which meant it would take Mingi longer to make sure his work still reached his usual standard. His expertise laid in woodwork, with only some experience in claywork. What intrigued him the most, though, was what core this animated doll had.
It wasn’t typical to see things like this; magic of this calibre was strictly reserved for the noble and wealthy, leaving mundane and ordinary magic for the commoners. The only exception was artisans, of which Mingi was part of.
The toymaker sucked in a breath and stood back, “Well, certainly not good. Mind if I ask what happened?”
“You don’t need to know that to fix it. How long will it take?”
Well. Alright then. Mingi glanced at the ceiling as he thought about what he would need for the job.
“I’ll need to get some new material in, and ceramics can be fickle when it comes to animated works – it’s not totally my area, as you can see from what I sell, but I can do the job. Give me … a couple weeks.” He cringed inwardly as the words left his mouth. Telling the client how long it would take is always his least favourite part of his job, and judging by the scowl forming on the man’s face, it would remain that way.
The man narrowed his eyes, “Why on earth would you need two weeks? It’s ten centimetres wide, surely that’s not taking you two whole weeks to fix. And it’s a good doll, won’t be difficult with you at all,” he went on in that gravelly voice, sniffing haughtily, drawing himself up on his decorative ornate cane. A small stud earring winked at the artisan from under the man’s top hat.
Mingi grimaced slightly, scratching at his short pink hair. He hated dealing with customers who argued.
“Well, sir, it’s because it allows me time to make sure it’s as perfect as possible. I also don’t just work on one at a time. Honestly, at any given time I’m working on at least four jobs, so I’m not trying to draw it out for any reason. Just standard business, sir.” Mingi hoped it was enough to placate the man.
He broke the intense eye contact for a moment to roll his eyes. “You people always give yourselves much more time than you really need. You’re lucky you have such glowing reviews, Mr. Song, otherwise I’d take my business elsewhere.”
Mingi gulped, “Uh, I appreciate that you chose me, sir. Thank you. I won’t disappoint – you’ll be glad you allowed me two weeks, promise.”
The man pursed his lips and sighed impatiently. Mingi mumbled the amount for the deposit. The man scowled, but dumped a heavy bag of coins on the counter.
“Whatever. I’ll be back in exactly two weeks from this day, then.” He gave one last icy onceover, then turned on the heel of his polished leather shoes and waltzed out, snapping his fan open and closed as he went.
The doll was still stood there awkwardly, not looking up. Just half naked in the middle of his shop.
Mingi sighed deeply. He didn’t come across animated works very often, but every time he did, it was a marvel that put the sparkle back in his eyes and the inspiration in his fingers. This time, though, he just felt uncomfortable. The doll wasn’t moving or talking, not even looking at anything around him, just blankly staring at the floor.
The toymaker swallowed, unsure of how to interact with him, while simultaneously itching to study him closer.
“So, um, there’s a little opening here at the side of the counter. Just, uh, come through. Into the workshop. When you’re ready.” He shuffled to the side and waited for the doll to go.
The doll spurred into motion as if he had been swatted by the fan again, almost stumbling over his own feet as he squeezed his arms into his sides. The air was stuffy with uncertainty in the shop. When the doll was behind the counter and turning through the workshop door, Mingi ducked out and strode quickly across the store to flip the sign over to the ‘closed’ side. He reached into the back pocket of his stained brown overalls for his keys, the jangling sounding abnormally loud as he locked the door.
It was getting to closing time anyway, so he supposed he wouldn’t be losing much business, and he needed to inspect this job without any distractions.
The toymaker left his keys on a screw under the counter and shut the workshop door behind him. He found the doll standing in the middle of the cluttered room, just as he had been standing in the shop. Mingi’s eyes snagged on that hole in his lower back, but he also noticed that the doll wasn’t even wearing shoes.
He cleared his throat lightly, “You can just sit down on that swivel chair there.”
It was a ratty old thing that squeaked when the doll hesitantly lowered himself onto it. He winced at the noise, but otherwise showed no evidence that he was even alive.
Well, as alive as an animated construct could be. He had never really stopped to consider it before.
It was so disconcerting to Mingi – he just couldn’t get over it. Animated works were always modelled after fantastical creatures, often the creature from which its core was derived from. Animated phoenixes, with phoenix feather cores. Animated chimeras that came alive from the chimera tooth at its core. Some were large, some small enough to fit in the palm of your hand. Toymakers generally made them as just decorative pieces to spark conversation and wonder for the wealthy, but other times they were made to be servants that were far less disdainful to look at than a person.
Mingi had never heard of an animated work being made in the image of a human. It was just such an odd and antithetical idea. Perhaps the man was just someone of peculiar taste – there was no shortage of such people in nobility, people who filled their summer palaces with countless statues and animated works. Manicured gardens and long tailcoats; those sorts of people.
The doll was still staring at the floor. Mingi supposed he’d better get started.
“Well, I’ve never seen a work like you before. Do you have a name?”
He stared at Mingi’s shoes as he mumbled his simple answer, “No.” His voice was pleasantly low, but thin with obvious disuse.
Mingi rested his hands on his hips as he frowned. Surely, he had a name. “Right. Makers usually put some kind of title somewhere on their works, so I’m sure you have a name.”
The toymaker approached slowly, allowing the doll plenty of time to see what he was doing. He kicked away curls of wood shavings and kneeled on the dusty floor before the chair.
“I’m just gonna check on the back of your left ankle – s’usually where they put it. Is it alright if I touch you?” Mingi decided that since the work looked human, he may as well treat it like one. It’d feel weird if he didn’t. He had a clear view of his face from his angle on the floor, but the doll still averted his eyes.
“Um… sure,” he said slowly, almost confusedly.
Mingi nodded once and carefully curled his fingers over the smooth skin, gently lifting the doll’s leg up as he twisted to see the backside of his ankle. He squinted before remembering to switch his headlamp on, which made it much easier to read the elegant script etched into the porcelain. Jeong Yunho.
The toymaker hummed as he lowered the leg back to the floor. An ordinary sounding name, but such exquisite craftsmanship. He wondered who the maker was.
Mingi sat back on the floor and looked up at the doll, “Well, hey there Mr. Jeong Yunho. Good name. Do you know who your maker is?”
Yunho shook his head slowly.
“Hm, no matter. Your injury’s only something small, so even though I’m no expert, I’ll get you all fixed up as if nothing had ever happened,” he smiled brightly, then pushed himself up from the floor and puttered around the workshop, gathering tools and materials. He’d need to pick up more of the fine, soft clay needed for good quality porcelain, but right now he still had enough to make a start.
Mingi ambled over to his station with his arms full, then realised that he needed the chair he’d instructed Yunho to stay on. He paused, frowning, as he tried to think of where he might have another chair.
Creatures like tiny wood rocking horses and huge clay dragons usually didn’t need a chair.
Yunho was still sitting silently, posture straight and rigid. His hands laid demurely in his lap.
The toymaker dumped his stuff on the desk and scanned the room until his eyes landed on an old, upholstered lounge chair he had inherited from his grandfather. It looked like it belonged in one of those last century baroque-style houses – cream with delicate floral patterning. Mingi decisively walked over and pushed it a few metres until it was just off to the side of his desk. He haphazardly dusted off some stray cobwebs.
“Should be comfy enough. I’ll swap you this for that swivel chair,” he nodded toward the overstuffed lounge chair he was leaning on.
Yunho stiffly stood and followed the toymakers instructions.
Mingi watched his movements and played with the small silver sleeper in his ear. “Your joints feel alright, Yunho? Doesn’t feel like it’s rubbing uncomfortably or anything?”
The doll jerkily shook his head. Mingi made a mental note to check his joints anyway before he … well, before he put the doll away. As he dropped into the creaky swivel chair, it struck him that he wasn’t quite sure what to do with Yunho while he wasn’t personally in the workshop.
He had never worked on something animated that didn’t come in a carrier cage, so he had never really needed to think about it. Now, though, there was a whole human here that needed to go somewhere.
Mingi shoved that to the side as he focused on the present – he had enough to make a quarter of the patch, so it was small potatoes for today. The toymaker pulled his goggles and headlamp off, hanging them on a nearby hook. The desk lamp and overhead light would be enough.
The weird client and the way the doll was acting had thrown him off so thoroughly that he forgot he needed to measure the area before he could start. He rolled out the clay into a thin sheet before turning to face the doll again.
He awkwardly scratched his neck. This was also the first time he had ever needed to speak to one of his jobs.
“Yunho? I’ll need to measure that break on your back, so if you don’t mind, could you turn around for a moment?”
The doll hesitated, almost looking conflicted, then his face smoothed back out into that apathetic, blank expression. He stood and turned around once more.
Mingi quickly snatched his measuring tape, notebook, and quill. He was poised to measure the first part of it before he faltered, “I’ll need to touch you again, is that okay?”
Once more, Yunho replied with a simple “Yes.”
The toymaker made it quick, but mentally noted how soft and smooth the doll’s skin was. He wanted to just run his fingertips over planes of his back, but recognised how weird that would be. Petting the little chimera he was working on was justifiable, but feeling up some guy he was supposed to be repairing was not. Even if his intention was purely innocent and borne of curiosity, Mingi was also a professional.
Something he also noticed immediately was how cold Yunho was. It made sense that he would be cold, as he had no means, nor necessity, to produce his own body heat, but it still felt wrong that the doll was cold. Mingi saw something human-shaped and expected him to feel human too.
Once he had all the measurements, he quietly let Yunho know he could sit back down again. Now, he could actually get stuck into doing something.
While he worked and cut the clay, Yunho stayed silent. Mingi could have sworn that the doll hadn’t moved a millimetre since he sat down. He just kept that blank face, stiff posture, and stared at the flagstone floor. The toymaker generally didn’t mind working in silence, but now that there was another presence that made the silence somehow heavier, he found himself wishing he had one of those fancy new musical inventions – a record player.
It was another thing that interested Mingi. How music could come from a spinning disk, he had no idea. People marvelled at the things Mingi made, but he believed they were ordinary when put next to something like that.
Time stretched on as Mingi painstakingly formed the first quarter as perfectly as he could, with the quietness and extra presence eventually fading into the back of his mind.
❖
The sun was just about to touch the horizon when the toymaker leaned back in his chair and rubbed his eyes with the backs of his clay-stained hands. He suppressed a jolt when he looked over and realised Yunho was still there.
Mingi blinked sluggishly before speaking up, “Where would you usually go when everyone else goes to bed, Yunho?”
“I stay where Master displays me.”
Mingi’s face scrunched slightly into a frown. “Um, well, what sort of display?”
Yunho’s chest kept slowly rising and falling in that steady, clockwork way. “A glass case. Sometimes a short pedestal when … when he has guests over.”
That sounded fairly typical – if Yunho were anything but human-shaped. People often kept sculptures and carvings in glass cases or on ornate display pedestals, but that was because they were animals that people never really got to see in person. A human was something everyone saw every day, certainly not something you would display. Mingi’s frown deepened as he fit that piece of information into the odd picture of the doll and the client.
He smoothed his expression as he shifted his focus onto where he could keep Yunho for the time being. The toymaker had a tiny kitchen, bathroom, and bedroom upstairs; nowhere for a construct to spend the night.
“Sorry, Yunho, but I don’t think there’s anywhere comfortable for you to stay,” he confessed regretfully. It was also a self-burn in a way – he basically revealed that he was awfully lonely and had been that way for some time, with no prospects of that changing any time soon.
The doll’s voice was quiet and gentle, “I don’t require sleep. I can stay in this chair until you need me to move again.”
“What? Absolutely not, that’d be so uncomfortable. No – actually, you can take my bed, and I’ll figure something out down here,” he decided.
The doll’s eyes shot up to the toymaker’s, wide and fearful.
“Mr. Song, I couldn’t possibly accept that. Master would shatter me if I were to inconvenience you so much.” His hands were gripping his knees, bunching up the dark linen of his pants.
“Nonsense. I barely sleep in it anyway.”
“But–”
“My house, my rules!” Mingi interrupted loudly with a half-smile.
Yunho flinched violently and immediately broke eye contact, mouth snapping shut. His chest rose and fell faster.
“I’m sorry,” he whispered. He hunched even more, as if he were trying to fold in on himself.
Mingi’s smile slipped off his face. For a moment, he just sat there, utterly unsure of how to proceed. He had never dealt with someone who acted like this. Yunho sat in that tense position as if he was waiting for something.
When the doll realised Mingi wasn’t going to do anything, he shakily stood and glanced around the room, then made his way over to the far corner and folded his long limbs as compactly as he physically could, sliding down the wall to sit on the floor.
The toymaker just watched him, baffled at what the doll was doing. His mouth hung open slightly as he blinked, brows furrowed.
“Um,” he began elegantly, “Yunho?”
No response.
Mingi’s shoulders drooped. “Well, if you insist,” he mumbled. The toymaker stood and awkwardly set a cover over the thin piece of clay. He decided he’d finish it tomorrow – it’d be fine on his desk for now.
He walked over to the doorway that opened to a narrow, twisting staircase, turning the brass knob in his rough palm. Looking over his shoulder one last time, he saw the doll just staring ahead at nothing. It seemed like an unconscious habit, the way Yunho rubbed two fingers over the side of his neck, as if he were trying to create space between something and his skin.
❖
After a quick scrub and meagre meal, Mingi flopped onto his bed. He immediately began to ruminate on the last few hours.
With a start, he realised he had completely forgotten to double check Yunho’s joints. He felt a sour taste in his mouth at the thought of asking the doll to let him do one more thing after the way he had acted, though, so he reasoned it could wait until the next day. Perhaps, he wondered, Wooyoung might be able to give him some tips on making the doll a bit more comfortable, considering he was going to be in his workshop for the next couple of weeks.
Mingi pried himself off the soft, lumpy bed to trudge over to his tiny little desk. He pulled out a fresh page and cracked the lid on his inkpot. The simple black feather quill was cool in his hand as he wrote, explaining the predicament he was in and for any advice, then he allowed the ink to dry before rolling it up and using a spare shoelace to tie it up. He clicked his fingers as he remembered that he needed to send an order for clay too – the supply store often received orders at odd hours, but they were all processed in the morning, so it should arrive around midday tomorrow.
Without looking up, he grabbed the stone-still pigeon on the windowsill and tied the letters to its leg. Once they were both secured, the pigeon came alive and pecked at Mingi’s fingers playfully, then shot into the night through the open window.
He knew the seamster would still be awake – he would want to ask if Wooyoung was feeling alright if he was even thinking about sleep at this hour.
A response would be on his desk when he woke up, he just needed to sleep through the night first.
With a full mind, Mingi slithered under the covers and shut his eyes, waiting for sleep to steal him away. The springs of his worn single mattress creaked at the slightest shift. He hoped Yunho wouldn’t be in the exact same position when he checked on him tomorrow.
❖
Mingi hadn’t been an artisan for long; he had been an apprentice longer than he had owned his own business. His mentor, a cheerful old woman named Odette, had seen something in him that no one else had, and thus took him on for a five-year apprenticeship, ending in Mingi flying the nest and settling in new pastures. ‘Fever Craftsman’ had only been established for a few years, but he had struck gold with the placement of his shop. People from far and wide travelled the main street where he had snagged a spot, so curious eyes with heavy purses were plentiful.
These people came in looking for durable and well-crafted toys for their children, nice carvings, and centrepieces, with the odd nobleman wanting an animated piece, and Mingi couldn’t have asked for more. A wide customer base meant he did business with people of various walks of life, which made him believe he had pretty much seen it all.
A proverb he had learned from Odette went along the lines of ‘you learn something new every day’, which he believed, but never really thought about it.
Until, however, he met Yunho.
Mingi learned that there were still many things he had yet to see.
The toymaker sighed as he rolled out of bed and rubbed his eyes and blindly reached around for a fresh shirt. He was halfway into his overalls by the time he remembered the letter he sent Wooyoung.
Mingi excitedly yanked on the left leg of his overalls, almost falling over in the process, and rushed all two steps to his desk. A rolled letter of coarse paper with a brown string around it rested innocently on the tabletop. He grinned and plopped into the small wood chair, snatching the letter up and unceremoniously throwing the string to the side.
The letter was long, taking up the whole page with fine, elegant handwriting. Mingi read it carefully.
Of course, Wooyoung opened with how his life was going and what he had been doing recently, and that they needed to meet up sometime soon. He went on to say that Mingi must be gentle and careful with the doll, and that he mustn’t speak too loudly. Wooyoung shared that he had an adopted cousin who sounded much like Yunho, but that Mingi should put effort into getting to know Yunho rather than just using the general advice Wooyoung had to give. He rambled on for another paragraph about being encouraging, but making sure to give the doll his personal space, something which Wooyoung acknowledged can be difficult when you just want to reach out and comfort someone. Most of all, he emphasised that it would take time, and that he shouldn’t try to force or rush it.
Mingi finished the letter and quickly scrawled a reply with a date, time, and place for a catchup, and sent the pigeon on its way. As the little bird fluttered off, he reread Wooyoung’s letter.
He thought back on yesterday; he had been gentle and given him space, but he had definitely made a mistake towards the end of the day. Mingi carefully folded the letter up and slipped it into the top drawer of his desk.
The stairs squeaked as he descended. He rested his hand on the doorknob, hoping that he wouldn’t find Yunho is that same pitiful position. The door groaned on his its hinges as Mingi pushed it open and walked in, gaze lowered, and turned to close it behind himself. He hesitated for a second, then turned to find … Yunho on the floor, exactly as he had left him.
The doll’s eyes were closed, but he was still curled up in a cube on the ground, settled in the far corner. Mingi sighed quietly as he moved around as quietly as he could. The clay would likely be delivered in a few hours, but in the meantime, he figured he would work on another job.
A medium sized cat carving sat on one of the numerous overflowing shelves covering the walls. The toymaker carried the mostly done chunk of hickory over to his workbench and set it down as softly as he could. He was down to the fine details at this point, so he grabbed his smaller tools and a tin of tung oil for later. He left the tools and oil on his workbench and approached the door that connected to the store. As he got closer, he peered at the doll, seeing that his skin was dirty where it touched the wall and floor. It was dead quiet in the workshop, and Mingi swore his heartbeat would wake the doll. It became harder to breathe normally when he was actively trying not breath too heavily. He slowly opened the door, then scurried back to his workbench. It was a Saturday, so naturally the store was closed, but Mingi kept the door to the workshop open so he could hear when his delivery arrived.
As soon as he sat down, he winced at the squeak the chair made, whipping his head in the doll’s direction. Yunho remained undisturbed.
Mingi relaxed his shoulders and finally got working.
Thin shavings of wood soon littered the benchtop, Mingi’s lap, and the floor. The cat was frozen in a stretching pose, with a cute round face and long fur. The client had provided a detailed drawing of the cat for reference, which was pinned to the square of corkboard above the bench. Mingi glanced at it every so often to make sure he was getting each unique detail of the cat’s face and paws. His fingers cramped after a while of clutching the thin handles of the carving tools.
He was closely inspecting a small imperfection in the grain, which was causing the wood to splinter, when he got the distinct feeling that he was being watched. Mingi stilled for a moment, pretending to look like he was very interested in the wood when he was really just panicking.
Would it be too much to turn and give the doll a little smile? Say good morning to him?
Mingi chewed the inside of his lip. He just continued to work out the imperfection, trying to exude calmness and approachability. Once the grain issue was worked out, he pulled a rag from of one the drawers under the bench and cracked the tin open.
As he dipped a bit of the rag into the oil, he remembered something that Odette used to do when she was working on a carving – the grey old woman had a habit of humming tunes that Mingi had never heard before. He always wondered if they were real songs, or if she just made them up as she went. Touching the oily rag to the wood, he decided it was the latter, and further decided to give it a try, as it had calmed the younger Mingi whenever she had done it.
His brain latched onto an old melody he had heard during his first few days in the capital city. It was a simple sequence that a scruffy man near the enormous entrance gates had been strumming on his lute. He improvised whatever he couldn’t remember, but it surprised him a little how well it helped to quell his nervousness. Soon, he was in the rhythm of humming and rubbing the rag in circles over the hickory.
This was certainly one of his favourite parts of his job – putting the finish on and seeing how the colour and grain pattern of the wood became much more noticeable and richer. Hickory wasn’t what he usually worked with, but it was a pleasant change. Once the last of the oil had been buffed into the curved dips of the statue, Mingi put the rag aside and went to put away his tools, as well as grab the miniature mallet he used for closing tins.
Yunho’s eyes were trained on the ground in front of him. The toymaker wasn’t sure whether he should coax him to move back to the chair or to just leave him be. Wooyoung had advised him to give the doll space, but that didn’t mean Mingi knew where to draw the line of too much space that verged on ignoring him.
He definitely didn’t want Yunho to think he was ignoring him.
The toymaker wiped his sweaty hands on his thighs. “You can go wherever you like in here, Yunho. You don’t have to stay on the ground. You can even go upstairs if you want.”
He stayed silently staring at the dust, his arms folded over his knees, hiding the lower half of his face. Was Wooyoung’s cousin this closed off too? Mingi almost wished the other was here to help him.
Now that was an idea. Wooyoung was a naturally warm and sunny person; it’s hard not to like him.
But Yunho was only here for two weeks, which meant even if Mingi did get him to feel more comfortable, he would be gone soon anyway. It was something he was almost lamenting – here was the first animated work of its kind that Mingi had ever seen or heard of, and it was like he was encased in ice.
His train of thought was interrupted by a knock on the door to the shop. The toymaker glanced at the doll once more, the occasional blinking of his otherwise lifeless eyes being the only signifier that he hadn’t lost his magic.
Mingi continued into the store, grabbing his keys from under counter as he went. The delivery man was frowning at a clipboard in his hands.
He jolted as the toymaker swung the door open and smiled, “G’morning sir, thank you for the delivery!”
The man’s face was almost entirely obscured by his bushy brows and overgrown beard, but Mingi guessed he got a smile in return as the man nodded once and garbled something through his beard.
Mingi lugged the slab of clay through the store after locking the door, nudging his way through the little gate at the side of the counter and opting to drop his keys on the polished wood.
For now, he set the new clay aside and brought out a couple smaller projects that he needed to finish before Monday.
❖
The next several days passed just as that day had. Mingi would go about life as normal, and Yunho would migrate to a different corner every couple of days.
The toymaker still hummed as he worked, still kept the lounge chair near his desk. He had mostly finished sculpting the clay piece by the end of the first week. Wooyoung had accepted his invite for Wednesday, so he looked forward to updating him in person about the doll.
Though, it wasn’t like there was much to say anyway.
By the start of the second week, once the clay had been fired and glazed, and was waiting on a second firing, Mingi actually caught Yunho observing him. The doll’s round brown eyes were following him around the workshop. What surprised the toymaker the most was that when he made eye contact, the doll didn’t immediately avert his eyes. Mingi made sure to smile at him.
Perhaps he would have something to tell Wooyoung when they had dinner together in a couple days.
❖
The tavern Mingi chose was a place they had been going to for years. ‘The Drunken Pirate’ was a two-storey loft-type place where the wood tabletops were sticky and there was always a bard playing something off to the side. Warm lighting made for an intimate yet jovial atmosphere, encouraging laughter and relaxed shoulders.
Mingi slid into the small booth against the wall and tapped his fingertips to the tune of the song floating through the air. The woman was wearing black and yellow with bells dangling off the corners of her clothes, which jangled with each purposeful movement in time with the song. She had a sweet voice that nicely accompanied the mandolin she was strumming.
Not too long after the toymaker had sat down, Wooyoung was dropping into the seat across from him.
“You wouldn’t believe the day I had at the atelier today,” he began immediately, “This guy came in wanting a standard pinstripe waistcoat tailored for him – but before I could even get a word out, he starts babbling on about how he wants to ‘work very closely’ with me on this, and how it’s not every day that he comes across such a beautiful lady who’s also ‘smart enough’ to own her own business.” He paused to make a face of utter disbelief, emphasising how ridiculous this client was, “Can you believe that? First off, I know how I look, but fully mistaking me for a woman?” Wooyoung paused once more to scoff and shake his head.
“Your hair is quite long at the moment,” Mingi commented lightly.
“And secondly, being so forward like that is just plain distasteful no matter if I were a man or woman.”
Mingi nodded at this, murmuring a quiet agreement. Wooyoung huffed as he finished his rant, finally taking off his top hat and resting it on the seat beside himself.
“Well, did he still get his waistcoat?”
“What do you think?” Wooyoung said venomously, narrowing his eyes and crossing his arms.
Mingi laughed, “I think he was thrown out of the store on his ass.”
The seamster quickly adopted a bright smile and nodded cheerfully. As they both continued to share stories of rude and difficult clients, a waitress meandered over to their table and asked if they were ready to order.
Neither of them had even touched the neatly stacked menus, but it was wholly unnecessary when one already knew it like the back of one’s hand.
Wooyoung spoke for the both of them, “Seafood soup with a side of bread, please, and rabbit stew and bread for him too, thank you.”
The stout waitress scribbled down the order and flashed a smile before trotting off. The seamster then set a piercing gaze on the toymaker that perfectly forecasted what he was about to ask next.
Mingi looked down at the table and sighed, “I tried my best. He’s just … not going to be here for long enough, I think.”
Wooyoung hummed sympathetically. “The guy who brought him in sounded strange.”
“Oh absolutely. I forget now what I put in my letter to you, but I’ll tell you about him again anyway.”
The toymaker regaled the first meeting, which made the whole thing seem even more baffling now that he was explaining it out loud to someone else. Wooyoung stayed surprisingly quiet as he went on. Halfway through this, another waitress laid their respective bowls in front of them. He also added that the man was supposed to come back the day after tomorrow.
“That reminds me, I need to actually put the finished piece on him tomorrow and make sure that it’s all smooth.” At the word ‘smooth’, Mingi was reminded of a thought he had when he had first done the measurements for the doll.
“Also,” he hesitated, wondering if he should really say it, “his skin is … quite smooth. Being porcelain, of course it is. It’s so strange; he’s so tall and designed as if he’s supposed to be physically imposing, but his demeaner and the way he holds himself ruins that image. I really do wish I knew who his maker was.” Mingi flushed slightly as he thought about how strange it was that he would have noticed the doll’s skin enough to mention it.
“I mean,” he floundered, “It’s just because – well, he only came in a pair of pants. No shirt, hat, or shoes. That was another weird thing.”
Wooyoung tilted his head slightly, staring at the toymaker with an unreadable expression. It was the expression that Mingi had never been able to decode. It was always a guessing game of what the seamster might be thinking.
Mingi waited for him to say something, but that moment never came. Wooyoung just blinked slowly a couple times, then went back to eating his soup. The soup itself was creamy and white, ground pepper mixed in with all the mystery chunks. The toymaker decided not to potentially overshare anymore. His rabbit stew was delicious as usual.
The music had changed several times as they had chatted, but now Mingi noticed that no one was playing at all. It wasn’t quieter by any means, but he felt the loss of the music. Wooyoung munched on the last of his bread, mopping up any leftover sauce with it.
“So, you mentioned a cousin. How is she now?”
The other swallowed and finally looked at him again, “She’s fine. Lives at the seaside with her girlfriend. She actually wrote me a letter a few months ago telling me about how much she’s been able to heal, and how she doesn’t think she could ever be truly happy again, but she thinks she’s getting very close to the feeling.”
Mingi nodded again. He wasn’t sure how else to respond, but Wooyoung understood. He wondered what the correct emotion was to feel about a family member going through … whatever they had to go through to be like Wooyoung’s cousin. He was sure there would be many ways to end up like that.
It was things like this that frustrated Mingi – he was aware and endlessly grateful that he had a relatively painless upbringing. Both of his parents had loved him, and both had died peacefully. Odette had been kind to him.
He felt like he had been sheltered.
“Anyways, I hope all goes well with the doll. If it’s anything to you, I reckon this won’t be the last time you see that strange man,” Wooyoung said in a quiet, ominous tone.
Mingi’s eyes flicked up to his friend’s, “What do you mean?”
Again, Wooyoung just stared back with that unreadable expression. “What was that thing you said your mentor used to say? ‘You learn something new every day’? Yes, I think that’s quite true.” He sat for a moment, then took in a deep breath and drew himself up in his seat, “Finished with your stew? You look tired, maybe it’s time to go to bed.”
Mingi knew it wasn’t Wooyoung’s intention, but the seamster made him feel like a child sometimes. He hated when people didn’t just say what they meant, and usually his friend was good at saying things clearly.
A waiter this time came over, after being flagged down by the toymaker, to their table to collect the payment.
The evening air was warm as they parted ways.
❖
The artisan quietly made his way into the shop, trying not to jingle his keys too much as he hooked them on the screw under the counter. He slowed to a stop as he saw that the workshop door was slightly ajar.
A low light spilled out from the room, prompting Mingi to linger behind the counter, watching through the thin opening to the workshop – he knew he had turned all the lights off before heading out.
When he peered through the gap, his eyes widened slightly at what he saw. Yunho was standing at the bench with his back to the door, but by the bend of his arms Mingi could tell that he was holding something. It was the most the doll had moved in the last week and a half. The toymaker kept watching him, making sure that he wasn’t breathing too loudly. He expected his heart might beat loudly, but it was quiet, almost like it was fearful of ruining the moment too.
Yunho placed whatever it was that he was inspecting on the table to the side, revealing that it was one of the pieces of a child’s building block set that Mingi had been working on the day before. The doll then reached up to one of the shelves and traced a finger over the statues that sat there, all in various states of progress. The sculpted shapes of his back shifted as he moved; the hole was less noticeable now that the light was in front of the doll and not lighting him from the back, just allowing the black of the break to blend in with the other shadows on his back.
The lighting made him look even taller, if it was possible. Mingi didn’t meet many people who were taller than himself. Yunho was proportioned perfectly, another testament to the skill of whoever made him. Mingi eased into leaning on the doorway, allowing himself to just admire the doll. His hair was black and brushed the base of his neck at the back, hanging over his ears at the sides. Mingi wished he had more of a chance to see his face.
It was weird of him, though, wasn’t it? Watching the doll like this?
Mingi recalled Yunho’s timid words, implying that he was constantly on display with nowhere to rest or be comfortable, nowhere to be himself.
The toymaker grimaced and pushed off the doorway, making sure to scuff his shoes lightly as he entered the room.
“Hey, Yunho,” he said as softly as he could.
The doll visibly froze up. He snatched his hand back and hunched in on himself again, keeping his arms close.
Mingi saw this and halted in his approach. “I’m just going straight upstairs, don’t let me bother you.”
He continued edging toward the door to the staircase. Yunho stayed where he was, hiding behind his hair as he looked away.
It was a painful minute or so, but then Mingi was easing the door shut behind himself and making his ascent up the squeaky steps. When got to the landing, his shoulders slumped as he let out a forlorn sigh. It was like trying to navigate around a startled bird for a roommate. He had one last day with him, where he would have to be physically close to the doll for a while as he fitted and glued the piece into the hole.
It should have excited him.
He just felt guilty.
❖
Warm sunlight slowly crept over Mingi’s face as he twitched in his sleep. A sudden fluttering on his desk startled him awake, the covers sliding into his lap as he sat up. Looking over to the desk, he relaxed to see that it was just his messenger pigeon.
Curiosity drew him out of bed, his feet dragging sluggishly as he made his way into the chair. He tugged the ribbon apart and let the page roll out.
It was a letter informing him of the overdue book he had borrowed a while ago from the public library down the road. Mingi hummed as he got up to look for the book – it was rare for him to borrow much, considering he had all his favourites already, and it was such a hassle to remember to take books back. He found the overdue book kicked to the side under his desk.
Mingi picked up the thin novel and dusted it off, placing it on top of the letter to remind him to return it later.
He ate a simple meal of rice and egg, after which he cleaned his teeth and made his way down the stairs. The door to the workshop was closed, as he had left it, as it always was. Only now, he felt nervous to open it.
The workshop had almost become more of Yunho’s space than it was Mingi’s. The toymaker shook his head and pushed the door open.
Unsurprisingly, the doll was back to his usual spot in the far corner, compressed into a cube.
Mingi suppressed a sigh as he made his way to the workbench. It was going to be uncomfortable, so he wanted to just rip the band aid off and get it over with.
He leaned his hip on the edge of the tabletop, not looking at the doll, “Yunho, the piece is ready. All I need to do is glue it into place with some epoxy, let that harden, and you can be on your way, alright?”
Yunho slowly lifted his face from where his arms were crossed over his knees, his gaze only getting as far as Mingi’s shoes. Without saying a word, he unfolded himself and stood, shuffling over to stand in front of the toymaker. Mingi kept his eyes on the tabletop.
Slowly, he turned around to allow the artisan to finish his work.
Mingi retrieved the new piece of porcelain and the dual tins for the epoxy. He sat in his swivel chair as he mixed the two thick liquids together, deftly applying the mixture to the edges of the porcelain and the breakage. Painstakingly, Mingi fitted the piece into the hole, finding with pleasure that the piece fit seamlessly. He made sure that his hands did not linger throughout the process. Finally, he wiped the beads of excess epoxy with a soft cloth.
It felt almost shameful, but Mingi couldn’t help but think about how nicely built the doll was. He half wanted to ask Wooyoung to make him some clothes that would accentuate his figure, even if the doll was supposed to leave the next the day.
“All done,” Mingi murmured, sitting back in his chair with a soft smile. “Don’t do any jumping jacks or running while it sets. Other than that, feel free to explore.”
The toymaker rose from his chair to go set up the shop for the day, leaving the door to the workshop cracked open in case Yunho wanted to come out, however unlikely that was.
Soon after opening, the strange man came back.
Today, he was wearing a deep violet waistcoat with a white tailcoat and pants. A collection of ordinary rings decorated his spidery fingers, but for some reason Mingi picked up an odd energy from them. He wore a white top hat with a matching violet ribbon around the base, with a peacock feather wedged into it. It somehow reminded Mingi of his artisan’s hat.
He really should wear his artisan’s hat more often. It was a conical and brimless cap designed to show off what his specialty was – it was tradition for a master to have a hat made for their apprentice once they graduate. Mingi’s was a light brown with wood grains embroidered in a darker brown thread and berries in a deep red thread, with a bronze tip that a plump white tassel hung from. A thick piece of matching bronze coloured ribbon was wrapped around the base. It was a beautifully made hat, but after he had accidentally knocked down one too many statues with it, he decided to only wear it for formal occasions.
Wooyoung had also said the red and bronze accents clashed with his pink hair.
The man strode through the store, icy gaze already narrowed in on the toymaker. He stopped before the counter where Mingi had been sorting through some documents.
“Well, where is he? Come on, chop chop,” he demanded with raised eyebrows. Mingi suppressed a sigh.
He ducked his head into the workshop and waved for Yunho to come out, the doll thankfully being brave enough to look at the toymaker today. Yunho made a sort of grimace, but the expression was gone as quickly as it had appeared. He slowly stood, but suddenly jerked into motion and walked at a brisk pace out to the client.
Mingi clapped his hand together, “Hope you’re satisfied, sir.”
The client squinted critically at the doll, circling him while wearing his seemingly permanent scowl. Once he leaned his side on the edge of the counter, Mingi let him know what the rest of the fee was. Again, the man glared at him for a moment before producing another, larger, coin pouch. Mingi swiftly counted it and put the coins away, sliding the pouch back across the counter.
“I suppose it will do. Next time, you will do it in one week – I can’t afford to have this away for another two weeks, got it?” He snatched up the pouch and started walking away, clearly not waiting for an answer. Yunho followed him, eyes still glued to the floor.
Mingi’s shoulders drooped.
“Thank you for your patronage,” he said to an empty store.
❖
On any given day, Fever Craftsman might see a couple hundred people coming in and out of its doors. Most people bought what was on the shelves. Spring and summer were generally the busiest times, with the one exception being the holiday period during winter.
It had been a month since Yunho had left his workshop. Mingi still thought about him. He thought of the peculiar doll when he gazed out of the storefront windows at the snowy street, which was alight with warm lanterns and bustling with people. Such was the city during the roughly three-week period that encompassed the multiple wintry celebrations, with each faith having mostly the same tradition of gift-giving and partying.
Good for business, bad for anyone who didn’t follow one of these faiths. Mingi was in both of those camps.
Currently, the small store was crammed full of people in winter coats, shuffling around with stars in their eyes at the marvels on the shelves. Even if Mingi didn’t quite share their enthusiasm for the holidays, he still had a content, genuine smile on his face most of the time. It felt nice to see people appreciate his work.
It did remind him, though, that he should send a letter to Wooyoung asking if he was free this year; they had their own tradition of at least getting together for a meal sometime during the holidays – at their usual spot in The Drunken Pirate, of course.
Once the last group of customers had left the store, he could hear the city centre bell chiming seven times off in the distance. Mingi’s eyes widened slightly at the late hour as he hurried across the floor to turn over the sign and lock the door. He extinguished all the lights and closed the shop door behind himself, just taking a moment to slump against the wall as his sore eyes wandered the shelves of his workshop.
He spotted multiple children’s toys that he needed to have finished this week. Then his eyes landed on the plush green chair next to his swivel chair. He stared at it for an indeterminate amount of time.
His legs moved him upstairs and into his bed. At least he had a few official days off that he could close the store for during the month.
Mingi rolled onto his back, tucked tightly under his covers, and fell fast asleep. In his dreams, he hears a quiet, hesitant voice, and sees a shy pair of dark eyes following him.
Not long after soft snores floated up from the toymaker, a metal owl silently landed on the windowsill. It deftly untied the letter attached to its graceful leg and slotted the envelope through the gap in the shutters
The envelope was wax sealed with the official crest of the Council of Mages
❖
Mingi only realised he had received a letter from the Council of Mages when he had accidentally knocked his inkpot over, where it then started to rapidly stain the edge of the envelope. The toymaker cursed and fussed over the mess, using his overalls to try and dab at the rogue ink before it could soak any further into the important letter. He scowled and quickly finished his letter to a client, sending it off and turning his attention to the envelope.
He dug his fingernail under the edge of the wax. Inside, the letter was stamped once more with the official crest. Fortunately, the ink hadn’t ruined anything important. Mingi read through the short paragraphs, which detailed the standard annual meeting that took place in the city hall at the top of the hill, located right in the heart of the city.
These meetings were scheduled at alternating seasons each year and were often far too long with little to do but listen. Mages from across the country travelled to share updates on the politics of other places and review policies – rarely interesting. Mingi remembered being so excited to attend his first meeting as a graduated mage (apprentices are not permitted to attend) but being sorely disappointed at seeing that it was just a bunch of mostly grouchy mages who would rather be at home, all stuffed in a giant marble hall where one could hear the wind whistling through open windows. Really, the hall could have been built somewhere that wasn’t halfway to the heavens and still retain all its grandiose and importance.
Mingi pursed his lips as he reread the letter – it would be boring, but he would be chased up if he didn’t have a solid excuse for not being there. The only good thing about it was that he would see Wooyoung and get to wear his cool hat.
The shop would fortunately only have to be closed for a couple of days. He couldn’t imagine having to be one of the mages from out in the country who would have to shut down for a week to accommodate travel time and the meeting itself. Those mages always brought up that they should be compensated for loss of business, but the idea’s never been passed. Mingi agreed with them though, having heard Odette go on about how rural mages already have it harder than city mages. He always voted to pass the idea when it came up.
A week and a half later, the toymaker packed a bag and went down to lock up the shop, guiltily averting his eyes from the number of jobs he would be losing time to work on. Once the place was secure, the artisan trundled down the street and caught the first carriage that came his way.
It was nice to just sit and watch the scenery go by. He didn’t really get out much to see the city anymore. The holiday period was mostly over by now, but decorations and partygoers lingered in the streets. A thick blanket of snow still covered the ground, the numerous carriages carving parallel trenches on the roads.
Mingi had his worn canvas bag on the seat beside him, his pointed hat resting on his lap. He absently toyed with the tassel.
After an hour, the carriage joined the several others that had pulled up the road at the base of the city hill. Mingi paid the driver and wandered over to see who else had arrived. A familiar mop of black hair, topped with one of the most ostentatious of caps that Mingi had ever seen, bobbed through the crowd. A grin made its way onto his face as he navigated toward the seamster.
“You left a few pins up here,” Mingi tapped the side of Wooyoung’s hat.
The mage whipped his head around and smiled wide, immediately enveloping the other in a hug.
The toymaker squeezed back, “If only you were this excited to see me when we have our dinners!”
“Well, dinner is at the end of the day,” Wooyoung whined, “after I’ve had to endure morons and idiots. If we had breakfasts or lunches together, it would be a different story.”
“Right, right.”
Their conversation lulled as they both watched their fellow mages start to make their way up the paved road to the hall. Wooyoung held onto Mingi’s forearm as they trudged up with everyone else. Thankfully, the wintry air and snow-thick clouds kept them cold enough to not sweat under their cloaks.
The hall was as magnificent as it always was – enormous glass domed roof, ornately carved pillars on the outer veranda, polished limestone floors on the outside, with marble flooring on the inside. The colour scheme was an ethereal mix of white, pale teal, navy, and gold. The outer walls seemed to shimmer in the weak sunlight that made it through the clouds.
Everyone filed in through the six different entrances, which were all huge wood doors with carved scenes on them, left wide open and pulled shut once the last mage had entered. Mingi and Wooyoung had seen it all many times before, and so paid little attention to the details. Inside sat the largest table, possibly in the whole country. It was round, with the middle of it taken out. The circle of space in the centre of the table was reserved for any magic that needed to be done – such as conjuring up images, drafting ideas, or showing one’s memories to the rest of the council.
The three high mages sat at one side of the table together. Wooyoung and Mingi snagged spots next to each other, watching everyone else find a seat. For a while, the massive hall was filled with the noise of chairs being dragged on the floor and the deafening level of chatter, punctuated with laughter and yelling.
Mingi was staring up at the ceiling, watching the clouds through the roof, when he felt someone’s eyes on him. He glanced around the enormous table of sixty or so mages moving around. No one was paying him any attention, but his eyes snagged on one mage in particular.
He didn’t look any more interesting than anyone else, but there was something so oddly familiar about him that made Mingi stare at him for a bit. He had plain brown hair, with plain black robes, and a bedazzled hat, likely marking him out as some sort of jeweller. He couldn’t really see the guy’s face, as he was looking down at the table.
Mingi nudged the man beside him, “D’you know that guy? Sparkly hat with the black shirt, next to the guy in all yellow.”
Wooyoung subtly craned his neck. “Hm. No, do you?”
“I don’t know, but I feel like I do.”
Before the seamster could reply, High Mage Soyeon stood and addressed the now seated crowd of mages.
Mingi made an effort to at least listen to the first half hour, but by the time the official business was over, and other mages from around the table were engaged in discussions, he tuned out. Wooyoung likely would have tuned out immediately in order to try and be as nonchalant about staring at another mage as he could. That other mage being San, of course.
The two had actually started out as something closer to enemies, considering they had been constantly compared to each other by their mentors. By the time Wooyoung had graduated, he had sworn he would try his absolute hardest to be more successful than San. It didn’t help that they had both apprenticed in sewing-focused trades – Wooyoung was a clothing expert, San was a hat expert.
Mingi would never admit it out loud, but if he could choose any other trade to go into, he would have chosen to be a hatter. They made hats for regular people, but they also got to make all the mage caps, which were always works of art that Mingi could spend hours looking at. Wooyoung’s in particular was actually San’s first piece he made once he had graduated.
Oh, how the seamster had scowled and groaned and yelled about how unfair it was that San had graduated before him, and now he was making Wooyoung’s grad cap. ‘How embarrassing is that!’ Wooyoung had whined.
Mingi had to suppress a laugh.
They might have been enemies then, but there was nothing hateful about the way Wooyoung searched for the hatter in every crowd, always needing to just make sure he had attended the meeting too. Maybe even catch up with him afterwards – all passive aggressively, of course.
The toymaker found it all very amusing, but it also made him wish he had someone to look for in a crowd. Sure, Wooyoung was great company, but he wished he had someone to talk to in his workshop, someone who could help out in the store and have dinner with him every night.
Inevitably, his mind wandered back to the doll.
Yunho had provided at least some company, a steady presence, while he had worked away on his various projects. The doll might not have been the most talkative of company, but he had been there, and that was more than anyone else had ever done.
Mingi conveniently ignored the fact that Yunho was only there because he was a job in of itself. Mingi had been paid to have Yunho there, to fix him up, not to talk to or bond with him.
Just then, the hall went eerily quiet. Mingi snapped out of his daydreams and looked around.
San’s old mentor, a deceptively young-looking man in black and pale blue robes, had stood and commanded the attention of the room.
“I have something of urgent importance that cannot wait any longer. If I may please announce to the room, high mages?”
“You may,” High Mage Jeonghan nodded once.
“There is a traitor in our midst, a dark mage among us,” Hongjoong began boldly, “I recently came across a civilian woman who had bought a necklace – only, it had been enchanted with dark magic to burn her skin while also being impossible to take off. I was able to remove it from her successfully, but not until her skin had burned almost to the bone. Only a mage could have made such a piece.”
The hall was silent.
Whispered conversations erupted around the table.
High Mage Taeyong lifted a hand to cover his mouth as he whispered urgently to Jeonghan.
Wooyoung eyed some of the other mages around the table suspiciously; he had told Mingi many times of his theories on their many fellow artisans, or more like the ones he just got a weird vibe from.
Soyeon waved her hand, casting a mild calming spell over the room. Once it was quiet enough, she motioned for Hongjoong to continue.
“Thankyou, high mage. As I was saying, the necklace was clearly enchanted with dark magic. I will not disclose its location right now, as that traitor is likely sitting at this very table, plotting to strike against me. I wasn’t able to unspool the spells woven into the necklace.”
Taeyong’s mouth twisted sourly, “That’s quite alright, you acted admirably. My colleagues and I will investigate this at once after the meeting. Thank you for bringing this to our attention, Hongjoong, we will reconvene on this right after the meeting concludes.”
San’s past mentor nodded fervently, then sat down once more.
Discussion moved on to other topics, but it was clear that the energy had changed – people’s minds were on Hongjoong’s words.
A dark mage… one of those hadn’t been seen in decades. All mages were well aware of the dangers of dabbling in dark magic, but history was cursed to repeat itself regardless. Fortunately, the high mages had been quick to act in recent generations.
Wooyoung leaned over to murmur directly in Mingi’s ear, “You know, that guy two to the left of the girl with the bright red hat has been giving me weird vibes.”
Mingi rolled his eyes. “Don’t start accusing people just yet,” he said quietly back, then, unable to restrain himself, he decided to tease him, “How come you don’t think it’s San? You seem to think he’s the worst man on earth, hm?”
“No, he would never,” Wooyoung dismissed immediately with a small shake of his head, “he’s way too – well. I don’t know. He just wouldn’t.”
Mingi sensed the other would have gone on to say something embarrassing if he hadn’t stopped himself halfway through. A downturned smile crept into his face. Fortunately, Wooyoung was still too busy squinting at San to notice.
“No I think you do know. Go on, I won’t tease you, promise.”
Wooyoung looked at him venomously.
Before the conversation could devolve any further, it seemed that the meeting was finally drawing to a close. Taeyong cleared his throat, flicking the long white tassel of his green cap over his shoulder
“Well, that concludes this year’s council meeting. Thankyou everyone for attending. Refreshments and yummy nibble packages are available in the anteroom,” he said, staring up at something on the ceiling, “please travel safely. Goodbye!”
Mingi and Wooyoung immediately began debating about theories on who the supposed dark mage could be while they waited for the room to clear out. The toymaker’s eyes followed High Mage Taeyong as he swiftly made his way over to Hongjoong. He couldn’t resist looking to see if Taeyong was wearing the green frog shaped shoes he was so fond of. As he rounded the table, Mingi held up a hand to pause the conversation for a moment, then leaned back in his chair.
There, peeking out from under the high mage’s blush pink robes, were the frog shoes.
Wooyoung snorted when he realised what Mingi was doing.
“Okay, anyway,” he tugged on Mingi’s sleeve, “back to what I was saying.”
❖
Only a few days after the meeting, that odd man was entering Mingi’s store again.
His serpentine eyes flicked around the store, not bothering to hide his distaste. He was wearing a black suit with velvet details, with a matching black top hat. As he stopped at the counter, Mingi’s eyes were drawn to the simple square cut diamond stud shimmering from his earlobe.
“Good afternoon, sir.”
The man didn’t even speak to Mingi this time. He clicked his fingers impatiently, making Yunho appear once more.
“One week, little toymaker.” He spat the name of Mingi’s profession like it was an insult.
Before he could even remember to ask for his name, the man was already turning around and leaving. Mingi sighed deeply, scrubbing a hand over his face. He would really have to ask for a name when the client came back next week.
Mingi motioned for Yunho to go into the workshop before anyone could see the shirtless doll.
Once he was seated at his desk, with Yunho in his comfier overstuffed lounge chair, the mage turned to the doll.
He scratched his neck awkwardly. “Well, fancy seeing you again. Are you – have you been doing well?”
Yunho remained still for a moment, but Mingi could be patient. He would be patient.
He was rewarded after a minute or so – Yunho’s shoulder relaxed slightly, and he made some hesitant eye contact.
“I’ve been… alright, I think. I’m not sure. I’ve never had to answer a question like that.”
Well. Whatever that means – Mingi didn’t know how to respond to that, spoken so softly in the doll’s low voice.
Mingi chewed the inside of his cheek as he thought of something to say. Yunho was still peering through his fringe into the toymaker’s eyes.
“Um, right. Well, what’d you do last weekend? Anything interesting?”
Yunho’s gaze shifted from that of an animal on the verge of bolting to something closer to curiosity, or maybe confusion. He was sort of hard to read.
The doll leaned back in the chair a bit more, “Weekends… I do the same things everyday unless Master has guests. A maid will come by my display to dust or wipe me down. Sometimes I’m moved out to the garden, but only for short periods of time for the guests.”
Each word made Mingi feel weirder and weirder. He honestly didn’t know how to feel about it. Yunho’s description of his days sounded standard for statue upkeep and use, but hearing it from Yunho’s mouth, hearing it be described by a sentient humanlike creature… it was sour milk in Mingi’s mouth. He didn’t get how the client could ignore the human design of the doll and treat him like any old statue.
Maybe it said something about Mingi as a person – it only clicked after he realised that Yunho was just that: human in design. That was the point. The client probably just wasn’t a good person, and took joy in treating Yunho like that.
The realisation made Mingi frown.
“I think that’s pretty shit. If you can move on your own, you should be allowed to at least walk around the place, not just stand around with nothing to do.” Mingi leaned back on his chair, “If I were you, I’d go insane.”
Yunho tilted his head a little to the side, “If I did anything Master didn’t tell me to do, he would make sure I didn’t do it again.”
“What does he make you do when he has guests?” The morbid curiosity got the better of Mingi. He was sure he wouldn’t like the answer, but he felt the urge to ask.
The doll’s gaze fell to the floor. Mingi felt an acrid, foul stone form in his stomach at Yunho’s hesitation. “You don’t have to answer if you don’t want to, Yunho. Just wondered, is all,” he added in a quieter, less eager tone. “Sorry. I shouldn’t have asked.”
A few beats of silence passed before Yunho stood and turned, revealing a crater where his shoulder blade would be. Mingi let the subject go and stood to gather his tape measure and notebook.
As the toymaker took measurements, then began working on the new piece, the two talked about mundane things like flowers and the weather. ‘Talked’ might have been a stretch, though – it was more like the mage interviewing the doll, because not once did Yunho ask a question in return, nor did he bring up unrelated topics or change the subject with a new sentence. He answered Mingi’s questions and remained silent when he didn’t want, or know how, to answer.
It was a delicate, fragmented conversation, but it was leagues better than their first interactions. Mingi was just happy that Yunho hadn’t totally shut down and confined himself to the corner again.
The toymaker worked long into the afternoon and into the evening.
He sent another letter to Wooyoung about the progress he had made with the doll, his excited tone communicated easily over paper.
❖
Wooyoung’s letter returned his enthusiasm. The seamster even shared that he was curious as to what the doll looked like, that he wanted to see him in person. Mingi entertained the idea of inviting the mage over, but quickly discarded the thought. Yunho was only just now warming up to him – he shouldn’t introduce another person too fast.
The doll was inspecting a small instrument when the toymaker entered the workshop the next morning. His fingers audibly creaked when he tried to pluck the strings.
“Hey, Yunho, can I have a look at your joints real quick?”
With a nod, the doll carefully set the instrument on the table and stood still while Mingi tested and studied the state of his joints. The toymaker handled him as gently as possible, trying not to touch him any more than necessary.
A few places like his elbows and wrists needed the leather disks replaced, but most other places just needed the leather to be reoiled. Mingi told Yunho as much.
“Is that alright? It won’t take me long, and you’ll be able to move way better after,” he said, picking at the skin around one of his nails.
Yunho nodded.
“Okay, stay right there.”
The mage ran to get his stuff together, ignoring all of his other jobs to tend to the doll.
It quickly became clear that this was not Mingi’s area – the inner construction of a doll was more complicated than he had anticipated. Yunho had a large square on his chest that conveniently opened to make the inside accessible, revealing the little wood box where his magic core was, as well as other little access points on his forearms and calves, but that was where the easy part ended. Aside from the wood, Yunho had been strung using a complex system of metal springs.
Metal really wasn’t Mingi’s area. The mage pouted slightly.
He faltered and stood back. All five access points were open now. Mingi chewed the inside of his cheek as he thought about how he was going to do this.
First, he would need to unstring the arms, then measure the area and cut the new disks. Fortunately, he was able to dig up some fast-setting glue from the depths of his storage. It was all far easier said than done. It was a possibility that he could mess up the springs and have to take Yunho to … well, he didn’t even know who he should go to for that. Perhaps a dollmaker, but they used wood, not porcelain, meaning he also then ran the risk of the dollmaker hurting Yunho even more. They also didn’t use magic for their trade, Yunho’s maker notwithstanding.
Mingi took a deep breath. It wouldn’t help anyone to spiral down useless rabbit holes right now.
Yunho was looking expectantly at him with those big round eyes.
The toymaker stepped forward and closed all of the little doors on the doll except for the forearms, then lightly grasped one of Yunho’s wrists, bringing his arm up for inspection. There were springs and hooks and pulleys everywhere. He ran a finger over the taught, smooth metal, a look of focus on his face. The doll shivered slightly.
Mingi’s eyes shot up to Yunho’s, “You can feel that?”
The doll nodded timidly. “Feels… weird,” he mumbled.
The mage quirked a brow at this. He couldn’t imagine what someone touching his bones might feel like.
“Sorry, I’ll be careful then.”
He continued his inspection without touching Yunho’s… tendons? Nerves? Whatever the equivalent may be, Mingi only touched when necessary, which was when he had finally figured out how some of the pulleys and hooks worked.
“Okay,” he started, “this is definitely going to feel strange, but let me know if it’s painful and I’ll stop.” He waited for the doll to nod again before pulling some string and unhooking the doll’s hand from the inside. Yunho’s other hand spasmed. His cheek and the corner of his mouth twitched. Mingi glanced up at him to make sure he was alright.
Once the hand was hanging limply, he got a small tool to scrape off the remaining scraps of worn leather from the finger and wrist joints. Yunho gasped quietly.
“Hurts?”
“No, I just wasn’t expecting to not be able to feel it. It’s like my hand is dead.”
Mingi hummed curiously and resumed.
He held Yunho’s hand like he would a butterfly, as if the slightest amount of pressure might kill him. The doll’s skin was cold.
It was simple and easy enough to estimate and cut the new, soft and thin leather. Mingi buffed some oil into it, glued it on, and trimmed any excess. It should have been a mind-numbingly tedious task, but he found himself feeling content with just handling the doll and taking care of him. He didn’t feel nearly as guilty as he thought he would, being in such close proximity to the doll, even after both the earlier awful implications of Yunho’s homelife and the fact that he keeps returning with injuries.
He periodically checked in with the doll as he worked. Yunho looked almost completely relaxed, bordering on curious. He was only a few centimetres taller than the toymaker, but Mingi felt like the doll towered over him anyway as he peered down at his own arm.
After a tense couple of minutes, Mingi managed to successfully restring Yunho’s hand, then moved onto the other. He could hear the quiet measured breaths of the doll, see the subtle and perfectly timed rise and fall of his chest.
The mage carefully handled the next set of pulleys and springs, his hands steady and gentle.
“You’re so warm,” Yunho whispered out of the blue. He was so quiet that Mingi could have convinced himself the doll hadn’t said anything at all. The toymaker’s hands stilled momentarily, his face heating slightly at the unorthodox comment. He didn’t know how to respond, so he just kept going with his job.
On this hand, he noticed that the doll’s fingers past the knuckle joint were looser than the other hand. Once the leather had been replaced, he hooked the springs a little tighter than before, “Test that out and tell me if it’s too stiff.”
Yunho slowly clenched and unclenched his fingers, “Feels good. Thank you.”
Mingi smiled brightly up at the other, hooking his thumbs into the big pocket at the front of his overalls. The doll gazed back at him with an unreadable expression. His eyes roved over Mingi’s face as if he was looking for something.
It struck Mingi then that he had never seen him smile.
The bell of the shop door chimed, pulling the toymaker back to store. A group of schoolchildren and one weary looking man had entered, taking all the mage’s attention.
In the workshop, Yunho blinked down at his repaired hands. His eyes flicked to the instrument sitting on the desk, then to the door leading to the store.
The toymaker hadn’t scolded him for touching the little lyre. His fingers itched to hold it again.
Yunho cradled the lyre in his palms, running his fingers over the strings. He tentatively plucked a few notes, wincing at the volume.
From the beyond the workshop, he heard Mingi laugh at something.
Yunho could easily picture the toothy smile. The feeling of warm hands on his own lingered on his skin, the airy, fluttery feeling in his body persisting even after the toymaker had left.
It was something the doll had never experienced. He had never felt lighter or warmer after someone had handled him.
Somehow, he found himself content in the cluttered, dingy little room.
Somehow, the simple truth that the toymaker will return to that room, and maybe check the rest of his joints, didn’t give him the same unbearably ill feeling that he got when he knew Mr. Merlette would be inviting guests over again.
No one had ever smiled at him the way the toymaker had.
❖
The client strode into the store all too soon for Mingi – he had almost gotten used to Yunho’s presence while he chipped away at whatever statue he was working on. Yunho had taken to filling the air with his clumsy strumming, and Mingi encouraged him by humming along.
He wore a navy suit with silver accents, a gaudy pearl surrounded by little twinkling diamonds nested at the base of his throat, and a tall top hat with a matching navy ribbon at its base. The peacock feather made another appearance, once again tucked into the ribbon of his hat.
Mingi rushed back to the counter, “Ah, sir, good to see you. Before I return Yu–the doll, um, may I have a name to put in the ledgers?”
“Beau Merlette. Hurry up, apprentice.”
The mage gritted his teeth but let the jab slide. He ducked into the workshop.
Yunho was looking up with wide, round eyes, his hands clutched around the lyre that he had found who-knows-where. “Is he here?”
Mingi swallowed and nodded. Yunho had still never told him how he got either of the breakages, but the mage felt he had an idea, which made his mouth fill with a sour venom as he moved to let the miserable doll pass him into the store.
It was like a heavy, stifling cloud settled back onto the doll once he was beside the client.
Mr. Merlette dumped another pouch on the counter, the leather slouching over as it spilled a few coins. Mingi quickly counted and stored it, returning the pouch as he glanced at Yunho. He was back to blankly staring at the floor, arms stuck to his sides. Mingi’s eyes widened slightly as he noticed that the doll had forgotten to leave the lyre on his desk.
The client noticed as well. “What is that? How dare you try and steal right in front of me, like I’m some common dunce! Do you take me for an idiot, doll?” the man yelled, brandishing his folding fan.
“No sir,” Yunho murmured, shakily placing the little lyre on the counter. His face lifted briefly, but it was just enough to see his stricken expression.
“Mr. Merlette, really, it’s alright. He didn’t mean to, I’m sure.” Mingi’s frantic words were white noise to the short man.
He whacked the doll twice over the head. “We will finish this when we get home,” he said, voice low and full of dangerous promise.
It was sickening that Mingi could do nothing but watch as the man stalked out of his store with Yunho in tow. He wanted to vomit.
He ended up writing another letter, this time more urgent, to Wooyoung.
❖
“I think you should do something,” Wooyoung said simply as he sat across from the other mage at their usual table.
Mingi picked at his fingernails. “But what would I even be able to do? What would a barely known mage be able to do against an obviously powerful and influential nobleman? He could destroy my business if he knew I was plotting something against him.” He sighed heavily.
Wooyoung considered this as he absently dug his nail into a groove in the grain of the tabletop, “I understand your position. It’s a tough call. All I know is that I’d at least try to do something if I were you.”
The waitress came and went. They ordered what they always did. Mingi hated this – he hated that so much was going wrong right now. First the client, then the dark mage.
“I think,” Mingi began slowly, “I will do something.”
“And?”
“Well, give me a minute to think, okay?”
On one hand, he just felt a general unease at the whole dark mage situation, and he felt like he shouldn’t do anything too drastic right now until the magical world settled down. But, on the other hand, the client technically wasn’t part of the magical world, and thus would be fine to pursue if only he wasn’t running the risk of burning his own livelihood.
Now that he thought about it though, the man could be a mage too. Mingi would have no way of knowing – it’s not like he could memorise every mage’s face in the country, there were just too many to remember. He shook his head and discarded the thought.
The toymaker silently stewed as Wooyoung slurped at his seafood soup, contentedly munching on his bread.
Mingi tried to think of some small, safe thing that he could do, but he genuinely couldn’t think of anything.
“What do you think I should do?” he piped up with a mouthful of slow-cooked rabbit.
The seamster leaned back in his chair, “Take a constable with you and follow him to his house.”
“What? No, I can’t do that! I meant, like, what’s something small I could do?”
“Something small won’t do shit,” Wooyoung said lazily, gesturing with a piece of soup-soaked bread.
Mingi huffed exasperatedly. So much for trying to get help.
“Hey, I’ll even go with you if you do my idea,” the seamster reasoned. Mingi tilted his head a bit as he sighed again; the more Wooyoung pushed it, the more he felt compelled to do it.
If he did that though, what would that mean? Would the law treat Yunho as a human being, or a construct without rights? Would anything even happen? He voiced this new perspective to the other mage, who sat back thoughtfully.
Wooyoung chewed slowly on the last bit of octopus. “Honestly? They probably wouldn’t care. Yunho isn’t human, so he, well, doesn’t have the same legal standing as a human,” he shrugged, but not uncaringly. “He would almost definitely be treated as an object that doesn’t have any sort of rights or autonomy, as fucked up as that is.”
“That’s so shit,” Mingi scowled.
“Everything is.”
The conversation lulled there, with not much else to add. Another waitress came by and took their empty bowls.
The more Mingi thought about it, the more frustrated and outraged he felt – Yunho had a conscience, he had independent thoughts and feelings. He was human in the ways that mattered. He was human enough to Mingi.
“If he comes around again, would I be able to come visit? Or do you think it would still be too soon?” Wooyoung asked softly.
“Depends on what sort of state he arrives in.”
Wooyoung nodded.
A few more beats of silence passed.
Mingi took a deep breath, having made up his mind. “If he comes back again, I’m going to follow them home when he leaves. On my own.”
The seamster nodded at his decision, “Just let me know if you want me to come as backup.”
Mingi nodded back, and the plan was set.
A day later, every mage in the country received a letter detailing another dark magic attack, urging them to be cautious, imploring them to help any victims.
❖
Towards the end of the day, like clockwork, Yunho was on his doorstep once again just a month later.
Mr. Merlette was in a more distracted mood than usual, checking his shiny cufflinks and fiddling with his lavender cravat. His suit was white again. On his left earlobe, an eye-catching ruby was nestled in a silver casing. It was crafted masterfully, but somehow it just put the toymaker on edge.
Mingi held out his hand, “Sir, pleasure to see you again.”
The man didn’t look at Mingi, choosing to simply glare at the assortment of statues around him. Yunho trudged into the workshop without waiting for the man to tell him to go.
“One week,” he said breezily, then walked right out.
Mingi gritted his teeth again. “Great. Thanks,” he scowled as soon as the door slammed shut behind the pompous little man.
A curious, protective feeling settled over him. Yunho was back in his care – away from the awful client, even if it was only for a week. He followed the doll into the workshop.
Yunho was curled into a ball in the middle of the room, and it reminded Mingi of the first time the doll had come here. His heart chipped at the sight.
It might have been too soon, too rash, but the mage sat beside the doll and slung an arm over his tense shoulders. They stayed in this position for an indeterminate amount of time, but Mingi felt like he could stay there for a century if that’s what Yunho needed. Eventually, the doll’s body lost some of its tension.
Mingi felt his arm rise and fall with the doll’s breaths. Bit by bit, Yunho leaned more into the toymaker, until his head was resting on his shoulder. The sun might have set already. If anyone had entered the shop, Mingi didn’t rise to greet them. If anyone stole something, Mingi couldn’t find it in himself to care.
Yunho’s breaths came evenly and calmly. “How are you always so warm, Mr. Song?” he whispered into the silence, “You’re like a furnace.”
The mage chewed on the dry skin of his lower lip, trying to will away the sudden inexplicable blush staining his face.
“You can call me Mingi,” he replied automatically. “Does no one else come close enough to you for you to feel them?”
When the doll didn’t answer right away, he felt like he had asked something too strange too quickly and started to panic.
Yunho tucked his chin a bit into his chest, tickling the toymaker’s neck with his soft hair. “Everyone else has cold and clammy hands. They don’t ask before touching like you do.”
Whatever that may have meant, it made Mingi feel even more gross and frustrated all at once; it thickened his resolve to do something. He felt an onslaught of questions rising in his throat – Was Mingi making Yunho uncomfortable right now by having not asked before curling an arm around the doll’s shoulders? Did Yunho want to push his arm off but felt obligated not to make any objections? What sort of parties was Mr. Merlette having?
Mingi felt a general disgust and panic at the swirl of thoughts in his head.
He would fix up the doll for the last time this week, and he would make sure the other could never fall into the wrong hands again.
“They should ask,” he finally murmured, “and you should have the choice of saying no.”
Yunho sat up again and turned his head to blink owlishly at the mage. His eyes shone with something so intense and earnest, it drew Mingi in like a whirlpool, keeping him rooted to the spot.
Mingi stared back at him, hoping to communicate warmth and safety through his gaze. He just felt so unsuited and lacklustre for this – Yunho deserved to be found by someone more like Wooyoung, who knew what to say and knew how to handle situations better. Yunho’s rosy lips parted again.
“Can you do that smile? The one that you always do at me randomly?”
The shining, earnest, yet shy look in his eyes was too much for the mage. Of course, Mingi gave him his best smile. The corners of Yunho’s mouth twitched up in response.
It was the tiniest, barely-there smile, but it made a swarm of butterflies burst within Mingi’s chest, making him feel jittery and warm and maybe a little lightheaded.
“What’s this? Your first smile,” Mingi wiggled a finger at the doll. The smile on Yunho’s face widened. Mingi clutched the fabric over his heart, “Ah, too much, I’ll die!”
Yunho huffed a little laugh, but his joyful expression crumpled as he doubled over, hands flying to his side as he winced and hissed in pain.
At once, the toymaker was scrambling over to the doll’s other side, tapping his hands away to assess the reason of why he’s actually here. Mingi suppressed a grimace once he saw the gaping hole there, all jagged edges and the worst that Yunho had ever walked in with. Whatever had happened to the doll for him to get hurt this bad, Mingi was determined to put an end to it; he ushered the doll into the chair by the cluttered benchtop.
He remembered the lyre from last time and Yunho’s fascination with it, and glanced around before swiping it from a nearby shelf. He gently pressed the instrument into the doll’s hands.
“You can play this while I take your measurements, alright?”
Yunho welcomed the distraction from the sudden pain, nodding slowly as he rubbed his fingers over the smooth wood.
Soon, the small moment of pain was forgotten, replaced with a soft, exploratory melody as the toymaker fluttered around the workspace.
❖
Mingi frowned as he read the latest missive from the Council of Mages – another two victims added to the list at the hands of the mysterious dark mage. This time, it was a cursed ring and an amulet that attracted evil spirits. He was about to muse aloud about it, when the door chimed and forced him to ignore it for now. Yunho curiously peered at the letter from his perch on the chair, but didn’t otherwise make a move to read it.
“Good aftern– Wooyoung? What are you doing here?” Mingi asked genuinely, not even being able to recall the last time the seamster had dropped by his store.
Wooyoung smiled and struck a little pose before waltzing up to the counter, “My niece’s birthday is next week and she’s crazy about dragons right now, so I thought I’d come and see if you had any.”
“Yeah, ‘course,” he pointed at the collection on the left wall, “there’s a good few over there, but if you don’t like any of those, I’ve got a couple more in the back.”
The other mage hummed as he meandered over to the dragon display, making an odd duck-like expression as he mulled over the various options. Mingi glanced over his shoulder to check on the doll.
While Wooyoung was still looking intently at the carved dragons, he suddenly piped up again, “Is Yunho here again yet?”
Mingi hurriedly looked back at the doll again, hoping he didn’t just hear some stranger say his name. Yunho remained blissfully deaf to the conversation as he read through a random client’s commission letter.
The toymaker hurried over to the other mage. “Not so loud. Yes, he’s here again. And it was so much worse than last time – I’m not even exaggerating when I say a quarter of his torso is caved in.” His tone softened as he kept talking, “Even though he’s in pain, I managed to make him smile. And laugh a little bit,” he said, looking meaningfully at the seamster.
Wooyoung finally met Mingi’s eyes, his own widening slightly, “Wow, really? That’s so good, Mingi. Wow. Do you think… do you think he’s well enough to meet me?”
Mingi’s own excited smile faltered as he glanced in the direction of the workshop. He wasn’t sure, if he was being honest. It was hard to try and predict how Yunho might react.
“I’m not sure, Woo. Of course I’d love for you to meet him, but I just don’t know how he would react, and I don’t want to undo anything I’ve done.”
The seamster nodded understandingly. “Yeah, of course. Would he be spooked if I took a peek through the door? Sorry – the way you talk about him, I’m just curious as to what he looks like.”
Mingi chuckled lightly at that, but acquiesced. He walked the other back to the front counter.
Wooyoung leaned over the polished wood, trying and utterly failing at being subtle. Fortunately, Yunho’s back was facing the door.
“He looks tall,” the seamster muttered, “high waist and long legs, good proportions… yes, he’d do nicely in blushes and tan browns with that neutral undertone,” he leaned his elbows on the countertop and pressed a knuckle to his chin as he continued his mutterings. “Silk satin would drape wonderfully off those broad shoulders… hmm, cotton lined canvas or corduroy trousers? No, too much texture next to each other. Ugh, the possibilities.”
“Okay, I think that’s enough. He’s not a mannequin that you can stick pins into Wooyoung. C’mon, go pick out a dragon and get gone.” Mingi ushered the seamster back to the statues.
Eventually, he decided on a medium-sized round one that was carved in a relaxed and happy pose. After another gossip session and a hug, the other mage skipped merrily out of the store with his package. Mingi smiled faintly, then turned to go check on Yunho.
He had managed to patch up most of the hole in one go, and was almost finished with the last puzzle piece, but he felt anxious about finishing the job and seeing Yunho leave again. He worried at the inside of his cheek with his teeth, but then Yunho was looking back at him with that lopsided little smile, and suddenly Mingi didn’t know what all the fuss was about – of course he’d do anything to help the other. His limbs tingled warmly, those pesky butterflies flitting around his ribs again.
The workshop that night was anything but silent. Yunho strummed softly on his lyre, and Mingi hummed an improvised tune along to it. If he wasn’t humming, then he was yapping about all the odd clients he’d had over the years. At some of the stories, he earned a small laugh from the doll, the sound making the mage want to clutch at his heart again.
By now, Mingi had forgotten all about ever wanting a record player.
❖
All too soon, Yunho was gone again. Mr. Merlette sauntered in and paid in his usual flippant manner and sauntered right back out.
This time, though, Mingi wasn’t just going to let him walk away. This time, he was prepared to close early and stalk the pair through the streets, until he had to hide in a bush as their carriage trundled past and went through a set of wrought iron gates. The house beyond was aged and gothic in style, with gargoyles perched on the corners of the roofs.
Mingi’s lips twisted in annoyance as he thought about how he was going to get over the fence. It wasn’t overly high, but there were some nasty spikes lining the top. He deliberated over it for a while before scrubbing his face with his hands – he would just have to be careful.
As graceful as a newborn foal, Mingi scaled the wall and picked his way over the spikes, shallowly slicing his palm on one before dropping down on the other side. He huffed and brushed himself off, feeling mildly accomplished. He wiped the beads of blood on his grey waistcoat.
The yard was long, with a gravel driveway leading to a large circle of more gravel that had a huge fountain in the middle of it. Mingi stuck to the forested bits over to the side as he approached the mansion. He hoped his struggle over the fence hadn’t been noticed. His pink hair certainly wouldn’t do him any favours in the way of stealth, so he made sure to crouch and slink further into the underbrush as got closer to the small extension jutting out from the side of the house. He assumed it might be a laundry or storage room.
The sun was beginning to set, which in turn made panic begin to set in the on the mage as he fumbled through branches towards the door. Would it even be unlocked? What if someone saw him from one of the windows on the upper storeys?
A stream of carriages rumbling down the driveway distracted him, causing him to tumble over a clump of brambles. He cursed and doubled over to pick off the sharp bits. The carriages were pulling into the circular part.
Mingi decided to just sit down for a bit and watch the newcomers before making any possibly revealing moves. Lavishly dressed men and women stepped out and made their way into the foyer of the mansion. The women wore excessive garments cluttered with ruffles and smocking and layers upon layers, all in expensive fabric dyed with even more expensive colours, and hip crinolines filling out the silhouette. The men wore decidedly more boring things like waistcoats and tailcoats, but all still in the expensive material and dye as the women’s attire. They chatted and chortled as they walked, servants hustling to carry excess dress or deliver any gift parcels.
The mage watched on as the sun sank lower to the horizon, until the sky was the colour of smoke. By then, the carriages had moved on with no more guests to expel.
Now, it was go time. Mingi crawled to the door and popped his head up to check for anyone in the room. It was unlit, and the handle gave easily as he tried it.
Quiet as a mouse, he slipped into the room and clicked the door shut behind himself. Already he could vaguely hear a quartet playing a song somewhere on the same floor. Mingi crept out into the dimly lit hallway, deciding to follow the music.
He couldn’t help but get at least a little distracted at the hundreds of huge paintings, the never-ending carpet, and patterned wallpaper. The colour scheme was white and navy, with black accents. The strangest thing that Mingi noticed was that all the white was perfectly clean, with not a stain or speck to be seen.
The whole place just weirded him out. He stumbled his way through another hallway until he almost walked right past the open archway that led right to the main event. Mingi’s heart raced as he staggered back and flattened his back to the wall, trying to calm his breathing. If someone were to see him, they most certainly wouldn’t mistake him for a guest – not with his rumpled and stained clothes, nor with his hair from which a few twigs poked out of.
The main hall was just around the corner, filled with guests and the quartet and millions of servants.
His pounding heart eventually slowed to a thrum. He chanced a little glance, mouth hanging open a bit as he surveyed the room. These must be the parties that Yunho talked about.
The doll! Where was he?
Mingi scanned the room once more, eyes landing on Yunho’s tall form against the far wall. He looked like he was naked until people parted enough for him to see that he was wearing a scantily draped black robe over his lower half. The expression on his face was one that Mingi had come to learn was his ‘carefully blank’ face, which he generally used when he didn’t want to talk about something.
The sight of him like this tugged painfully at Mingi’s heart. Just to make it all worse, he watched a pair of suited men wander up to the doll and stand there to discuss like they would for a painting. Mingi’s eyes narrowed, a scowl breaking out on his face as he saw them reach out and stroke their fingers across Yunho’s stomach and chest, pulling his arms out and feeling the fabric around his hips. The only indication that Yunho was aware of it all was the occasional subtle flinch when a guest was particularly bold.
Each new guest made Mingi feel more ill. He wanted to shield the doll from all of these depraved people – he wanted to spirit him somewhere else where he could just lay in the grass and strum his lyre.
When one of the servants passed close to his hiding spot, he decided he should probably move, but he was unsure of where to go from here. What was he supposed to do now? He saw the way Yunho was being treated, but his conversation with Wooyoung was thrust to the forefront of his mind.
He knew it was no use. Nothing would happen. He would be told it was under investigation, but nothing would happen.
Mingi bit the side of his tongue to suppress a sigh of frustration. He pushed off the wall and walked back down the hallway, desperately trying to think of something he could do. If only he could just–
A door opened on the left, making Mingi’s stomach drop to his shoes. He stood awkwardly frozen on the spot. A man – no, Mr. Merlette himself – emerged and closed the door behind himself, distractedly fiddling with his earring as he walked away from Mingi. He frustratedly took the stud out of his ear, making his previously blond hair morph into a mousy brown. Mingi tilted his head as he frowned. That oddly familiar mage from the annual meeting was now angrily walking away from him.
Well. The mage was thoroughly confused, but it’s not every day that the perfect opportunity is dropped into your lap, now, is it?
He hurried to carefully follow the host.
Mr. Merlette turned a few corners before stopping in front of an unassuming door, producing a key from his pocket, and unlocking it. As soon as he entered, Mingi heard a grunt and a small shattering noise, as well as a quiet curse from the man. The mage kept observing from the hallway, but when Mr. Merlette had apparently been too preoccupied to close the door behind himself, Mingi crept up to the opening and cautiously peered into room.
Standing with his back to the door as he inspected something on his desk was Mr. Merlette. Mingi glanced around the room.
There were boxes upon boxes of jewellery everywhere. Loose necklaces and piles of rings were scattered around, with charms and bangles littering the shelves and every other available surface. Piles of gems were on the desk that the man was standing at. Mingi’s gaze narrowed as he took in the strange room.
He bit back a gasp as his eyes landed on a jewelled artisan’s cap. The same one he saw months ago!
Mr. Merlette cursed again, then raised his hands as dark mist swirled in the air for a moment. Mingi frowned as he watched the mist get sucked into something that was in the man’s hands. The mage ducked his head a little further back as the man turned to the side and flicked a ring up in the air, then expertly caught it. The ring itself emitted a trail of that dark mist, but it evaporated quickly, leaving a plain, innocent ring.
Mingi’s eyes widened as the cogs turned in his mind – the black mist, the copious jewellery. His jaw hung open slightly as the realisation was branded like hot iron on his brain.
The dark mage that had been terrorising the city stood a mere ten metres away from him.
The same mage he had thought looked familiar at the council meeting, with that bedazzled hat and brown hair. The client whose jewellery had always thrown him off a little.
He began to turn around fully. Mingi scrambled from the door, not caring about how loud his shoes were as he booked it to the room he had come through. The little side room was still blessedly unoccupied as he sprinted through it and out into the dark garden. His heart thundered in his chest, his throat burning as he ran to the fence.
This time, he did not have the luxury of time as he grappled with the spikes. His hands came away wet with blood.
Mingi ran until he could flag down the first carriage he saw.
❖
As soon as Mingi burst into his room, he ripped a page out and began to furiously scribble down every detail and address it to the Council of Mages. He had haphazardly wrapped his hands in the first bits of fabric he could find. His lungs burned, his legs ached, and his head felt thick. He had no definitive proof to send to them but his word and a promise that they would find what they needed if they searched the mansion. Halfway through describing the way to the room he faltered – he had found who the criminal mage was, but he had also unlawfully entered his house. Would Mingi be punished even if it was justified?
He knew the answer, and it made him hesitate.
But the memory of Yunho smiling at him and the growing stack of letters detailing the attacks made him grip the quill tighter, made him keep writing until he finished the letter and sent it off. He watched the pigeon flutter away through the twinkling stars.
The glow of candlelight washed his face orange. At last, he crumpled onto his bed, the mattress squeaking under him as usual. A heavy sigh left him. It was still cold. The adrenaline was seeping away, leaving a strong stinging and ache in his palms.
Mingi wanted to go back to the moment where Yunho leaned against him, played music for the both of them, smiled at him. He felt like kicking himself for not at least saying some extra nice things to Yunho, or maybe asking if he wanted a hug.
He wanted to bash his head into the wall for not even offering him a shirt to wear.
If Yunho never wanted to see him again, Mingi would understand.
Sleep came mercifully quickly for the mage, who slept like a log after his marathon. Whatever punishment the council had for him, he would bear it as long as he knew Yunho was going to someone who would treat him like a person with his own feelings and thoughts.
Sunlight glimmered through the open shutters. Downstairs, a thunderous fist was knocking on the door of the shop.
Mingi jolted awake at the noise. His pigeon had returned and was now sitting stationary on his desk. He slipped out of bed, wincing at another round of knocking. The mage had fallen asleep in his clothes from yesterday, so he fortunately didn’t have to change before hurrying down to see who was waiting for him. He only stopped briefly to tug on a pair of gloves.
He wrenched the door open and met the eyes of High Mage Jeonghan.
A beat of silence passed.
“Good morning, sir,” he said nervously. Fortunately, his voice sounded surprisingly stable.
“Song Mingi?”
Jeonghan’s expression offered nothing.
“Yes, sir.”
“Excellent,” he turned and nodded to a policeman that Mingi only just noticed, “let’s take a walk, shall we?”
They began to stroll down the street. Mingi felt weird and hot under his sleep-rumpled clothes. The air felt weird, the birds sounded out of place, and the ground didn’t feel real under his shoes.
Jeonghan shot him a pleasant smile, “Now, would you mind telling me what happened, start to finish? As many details as you can remember, please.” The policeman on the other side of the high mage flipped open a notebook and dutifully scribbled down every word that Mingi said.
Mingi didn’t know where they were walking to, if the other mage had a destination in mind. He talked until there was nothing left to say. If Jeonghan felt anything about what Mingi had shared, he didn’t show it.
He gulped nervously, but gathered all his courage to ask something that had been weighing on him, “What will you do with the – with the doll? The one I mentioned seeing in the main hall.”
Jeonghan pursed his lips, eyes darting up at the trees as he appeared to ponder the question. They had wandered out of the main city, now meandering through a park. “Well, I don’t see any reason to have it destroyed. It will most likely be sold off to the highest bidder. Why?” he turned his shrewd gaze on the younger mage. Mingi wilted under the intensity of it.
“I was just, well, you see… he used to come to my workshop a lot, is all. I just want to make sure he’s going to a good home. It’s important to me.” He inwardly cringed at his unsure tone.
The high mage smiled faintly and nodded. “Perhaps he could be transferred into your care. Mr. Merlette has had previous charges, so as soon as I received your letter, I alerted the,” he cut a glance to the policeman, “other authorities. I’ve had my eye on him for a while now, since his last imprisonment. I felt it was only a matter of time until his next offence.” He stopped walking and turned to face Mingi, “Thank you for writing about it immediately. You’ve saved people from harm, Mingi. For that, I doubt anyone would care much if you quietly nabbed one of his millions of statues.”
Mingi felt like there would definitely be people who would care about that, but he supposed a high mage’s word was final. He felt appreciative for the high mage’s understanding, but he didn’t like the language he was using for Yunho – ‘nabbed’, he says, as if Yunho is property to be owned or stolen.
“But,” Jeonghan continued as he turned around and started walking again, “you will have to serve some community service time for your… unorthodox method of uncovering evidence. I’m sure you understand.”
The toymaker smiled and nodded, smoothing his wrinkled waistcoat. There were certainly worse sentences to get than that.
❖
A few days later, Mingi received a letter from High Mage Jeonghan himself, letting him know that the necessary evidence has been gathered, and a trial will be held in the next week. He also slipped in at the end that the doll will be going to an appropriate home. Whatever that meant.
Mingi felt overwhelming relief at first, but anxiety slowly wormed into his head. What if the place that Yunho was sent to wasn’t as good as the high mage thought? What about their conversation in the park?
He also felt like he needed to write a letter to Wooyoung to call him the mastermind genius of the century, for suggesting that he follow the man home. For some reason, he knew the seamster would chew him out if he had to find out that Mr. Merlette was apprehended from the mouth of the Council of Mages, and not Mingi first. He quickly drafted and sent a concise letter that promised a better retelling later.
Overall, Mingi felt like it was all over too quickly, that he hadn’t really done much to help. At the same time, he felt bone tired and didn’t feel up to opening his shop that morning.
Another round of knocking, though quieter this time around, startled Mingi out of his skin. He groaned and rubbed his face as he trudged downstairs to answer it. It was probably Wooyoung.
He pulled the door open and froze.
There, in all his ever-shirtless existence, was Yunho. He looked up from where he was picking at a loose thread in his pants and smiled softly at the toymaker.
“What are you doing here?” Mingi spluttered, eyes wide.
The other slipped past him into the shop, “There’s something important here that I needed to see again.”
“And what would that be?” The toymaker closed the door and stumbled after the doll. All he received in reply was another shy smile.
Yunho led the mage through the darkened store and into the sunlit workshop, continuing to make his way to the workbench pushed against the opposite wall. The room was small, with stuffy air, wood and clay shavings everywhere, and Yunho rummaging through the shelves like he owned the place. Mingi sighed fondly as he watched. He slowly pulled his swivel chair to the side and sat down.
After another minute of this, Yunho pulled out the lyre with a satisfied noise. “This!”
“You really only came here for the lyre?” Mingi pouted.
Yunho laughed softly, “No, Mingi,” he set the instrument down on the desk, “I came here because, well, I don’t have anywhere else I’d rather go.”
“They let you choose?”
“Ah, well… I’ll tell you the story of it another day. I’m here now, right?” Yunho smiled again.
Ok. The doll could be cryptic if he wanted to, he supposed. Yunho held himself loosely as he leaned a hip against the desk, an easy smile on his face, his shoulder relaxed and hands devoid of fidgeting.
Mingi remembered something else; “Would you like a shirt?”
Yunho’s smile diminished a little. His eyes suddenly seemed so hollow, so haunted, that Mingi suppressed the urge to shiver at the change in demeaner.
“Yes, please. It’s been so long since I’ve been allowed to wear anything more than scrap fabric.”
The mage wasted no time in picking out a shirt for the other. Luckily, they were similar in height. Yunho was a little thinner than Mingi, but not in a way that made the mage’s clothes unwearable for the doll.
Yunho ran his long fingers over his clothed chest and stomach, his lips in a small curve. He looked impossibly soft like this; tousled black hair, loose borrowed clothes, and blush-dusted cheeks. The morning sun highlighted the specks of dust floating in the air around them. Yunho picked up the lyre again.
A cheerful melody vibrated from the strings, and Mingi just had to do a silly dance to it. He wobbled on one foot, spun and curtseyed, all while Yunho stifled his giggles. When the mage tried to hop from foot to foot, he almost lost his balance, flailing wildly for a second before planting his other foot on the floor. He looked up and grinned at the other.
Yunho returned his grin and laughed.
The sun was draped over the doll so delicately, illuminating him with a bright and warm aura. It was almost too much for Mingi to look at, but he stared unblinkingly until his eyes started to water. He felt the natural urge to want to preserve Yunho in this state, but quickly dismissed the thought – Yunho was so much more beautiful in motion, with fleeting expression and thousands of words yet to share. Keeping in him a glass case would be a tragedy. It would be like cutting the sunflower off its stem.
It was then, as they resumed their song and dance, that it really sunk in for Mingi that Yunho was staying with him.
❖
The first few months were slow. Mingi took excruciating care to cultivate a place for Yunho, where he could feel just as human as everyone else. He didn’t allow anyone else to meet the man until he was ready to step onto the street again. Yunho needed time to adjust to a new life. After the first month, he had been ready to help out the mage with the shop.
After those few months, he was ready to brave the world.
And today was the day.
Yunho was wearing a plain buttoned shirt and brown trousers, as well as a respectable pair of shoes. Mingi owned only two hats – a black top hat and his artisan’s hat. He contacted San to commission another for Yunho.
The pair were standing at the front of the store, which was closed that day.
“Deep breaths, okay? Breath with me,” Mingi instructed, motioning with his hands.
Yunho followed his lead, staying calm when Mingi opened the door and stepped outside. He offered a hand to the other. Yunho took his hand and walked out to the streetside, his eyes curiously darting all over the buildings and people milling about.
“See? You’re plenty brave, Yuyu. Piece of cake.”
“Cake?” he echoed, still blinking around at the wide, bustling street. Carriages trundled past, pulled by magic horse constructs.
Mingi smiled fondly, “Figure of speech. Means it’s easy.”
Yunho looked back at him, still clutching the mage’s hand, “It’s only easy because you’re here. Without you, it would have taken much longer for me to have gotten to this point, I think.”
The mage stroked the other’s hand with his thumb in reply. He was getting better at it, but sometimes he still didn't quite know how to respond to some things.
They stood there, just out the front of Fever Craftsman, taking in the morning Spring rush. Little purple and red flower buds were nestled in next to flowers in full bloom dotted the branches of the trees lining the street, littering the road and footpaths with fallen petals. The air was lightly fragranced with the floral scent.
Another idea came to the toymaker as he stood, with Yunho pressed into his side, the both of them looking out at the world – it was about time that Yunho met Wooyoung, and he was sure the other mage was bursting at the seams with ideas of clothes for Yunho.
Mingi smiled faintly as he began to mentally draft the letter to the seamster.
Yunho’s fingers tightened around the mage’s as he excitedly pointed out a woman with her newborn, but all Mingi could do was gaze at the other’s joyful expression.