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Fuck.

Seokga stares at the restaurant across the street.

Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck.

Fuck.

It has been six hundred and twenty-eight years since Seokga has seen his only sibling, who just so happens to be the ruler of Okhwang and the leader of the gods.

Six hundred and twenty-eight years since Seokga tried to overthrow Hwanin and claim the throne for himself with his army of twenty thousand Dark World Unrulies.

He couldn't help it. As he's just told Hani, deceit is in his nature.

Six hundred and twenty-eight years since Seokga was hurled from the kingdom in the heavens, bloodied and battered from the beating he'd taken with Hwanin's final order ringing in his ears as he'd fallen, ripping the sky apart with his screams.

You will only be redeemed in my eyes once you have slaughtered twenty thousand monsters.

Only then will I allow you to return home.

Only then will you again be a god.

His silver tongue did not save him from Hwanin's wrath. If anything, it doubled it as he claimed that he had just been having a bit of fun trying to overtake Okhwang and depose Hwanin. Just a bit of fun had been his exact words.

It's likely his brother has come to blame him for this eoduksini problem. The darkness demons had once been in his army, their malevolent nature suiting the role of soldier well. This eoduksini must be one of the ones who served underneath him, therefore making this—technically—Seokga's fault. The demon probably never would have touched Iseung if the Dark World had remained open. Eoduksini had always been happy in that cesspool of chaos. Much happier than in Jeoseung, where they were stored after the coup and made to work as torturers.

Seokga adjusts the collar of his suit as he eyes the restaurant. It's not fancy—Hwanin, it seems, would hate nothing more than treating Seokga to a fine dinner. So instead his brother has chosen a mundane-looking restaurant wedged between a printing shop and a convenience store, a lopsided sign with flickering lights reading tasty kitchens. The windows are grimy, the walls made of cracking concrete, and Seokga highly doubts that anything inside will be tasty.

Taking a deep breath and clenching his cane in his hand, Seokga crosses the street. He has prepared himself as much as he can for this dinner, donning a fine suit of silken black. He even went to his barber, a chatty bulgasari whose control over metal allowed him to perfectly trim Seokga's silky black hair back into its usual style: delicate sideburns, a "fluffy" (his barber's word, not his own) top with a clean middle part, and a tight taper on the nape of his neck. He looks polished, professional, but hair will do him little good against his elder brother.

Seokga desperately wishes that he could still be strong enough to attempt to murder Hwanin. Now, with his considerable lack of power, he does not stand the slightest chance.

He's grateful there are no Godly Gossip paparazzi in sight. He knows this reunion will be bad enough without it being immortalized in photographs and a headline like: brothers back together? hottie hwanin and sexy seokga seen splitting a meal!

Grimacing, Seokga pushes open the door. The restaurant smells of cooking rice and boiling broth. Its lighting is dim, but Seokga can easily make out square wooden tables with rickety chairs, wilted potted plants lining the concrete wall, and a large tank harboring a myriad of lethargic-looking fish that separates one half of the room from the other. Tasty Kitchens is empty save for two women picking at their plates of food near the fish tank and the hostess that sighs wearily upon Seokga's entrance.

"Welcome to Tasty Kitchens," she says. "Please follow me to your seat."

Seokga grinds his teeth as the hostess situates him at a table on the other side of the fish tank. So Hwanin is late, or simply not coming at all. The hostess plops down a greasy laminated menu in front of him. "Your waiter will be with you shortly," she mumbles before trudging away.

Seokga glances down at the menu in disgust. He will not be eating anything from this hovel. His tastes run far too dignified, too sophisticated, to stoop to such a level.

Where is Hwanin? Is this some sort of joke played on him by Chief Shim? Seokga shifts restlessly, crossing and uncrossing his legs, fidgeting with the jacket of his suit. Ridiculous, he seethes, glaring down at the empty seat in front of him. This is ridiculous.

Of course Hwanin isn't coming. Why would he? His brother has not bothered to contact him in centuries. He is a fool for coming here. Seokga shoves back his chair, the legs screeching on the floor, and begins to stand—

"Sit down."

Seokga freezes. That voice…

He watches in disbelief as the air surrounding the empty seat across from him ripples and undulates until Hwanin appears, sitting with his hands folded and eyebrows arched.

He has been there the entire time, Seokga realizes with rising incredulity that is quickly replaced by hatred. He has been sitting there the entire time.

For the first time in six hundred and twenty-eight years, Seokga stares at his brother.

Hwanin has always been everything that Seokga is not. While Seokga's hair is midnight dark, Hwanin's hair has become so pale a silver that it is almost white, falling to his chest in a sleek, icy curtain of long strands so different from Seokga's short ones. While Seokga's eyes are a deep emerald, Hwanin's are a depthless blue-black, swimming with stars and the secrets of the universe. Such a difference in color marks Hwanin's destiny to rule the blue heavens, while Seokga is destined to forever be lower than his brother—as the green realm of Iseung is to Okhwang. While Seokga is exiled, Hwanin keeps the throne. The only similarity the two brothers share is the color of their skin—a rich golden-beige flecked with the occasional freckle.

Hwanin is dressed like a human, lacking his usual kingly hanboks of silver and blue. Instead, his brother wears a gray knit turtleneck and a pair of black jeans, even going so far as to wear a watch on his wrist. "Hello, brother," Hwanin says quietly, tilting his head to the side and watching Seokga carefully.

Seokga gapes, his mind numb, the sharp blade of betrayal sliding between his ribs. After all this time, it still has not faded—the pain of plummeting through the sky, falling from grace, his brother watching from above with cold eyes. Slowly, Seokga sits back down and fumbles for his silver tongue. "Well," he replies as smoothly as he can through his complete and utter shock, "the last time I saw you, you were busy throwing me out of the sky."

Hwanin frowns. "And the last time that I saw you, you were leading an army of Dark World monsters in an attempt to steal my throne."

"For fuck's sake." Seokga forces his lips to curl upward into a cruel, cold smile. "You speak as if it's not a fond memory."

"I assume it is for you."

"Oh, I keep that particular recollection very close to my heart." Seokga's heart is in fact thundering in his chest, but he manages to drawl his words, leaning back in his seat—the very portrait of a bored god.

Formergod, a dry little voice in his head corrects him.

Whatever.

"What brings you to New Sinsi, brother?" Seokga continues, arching a brow. "Don't tell me that you've come to lead me back to Okhwang."

Hwanin opens his mouth to reply—but is interrupted by a morose waiter, who shuffles over to their table with a notepad and mumbles, "What can I get for you today?"

"Away," Seokga snaps, waving a hand at him. "Your services are not needed."

"But…" The boy frowns. "This is a restaurant."

"And I do not want to eat your food." Seokga waves again in impatience. "Goodbye."

Hwanin slants a glare at Seokga. "I'll take a bowl of galbi-tang," he says in a gentle tone to the reddened boy. "Some soju, too. The same for him."

"Yes, sir," the boy mutters before scuttling away. Hwanin's glare returns to Seokga.

"I see that your temperament remains the same."

Seokga rolls his eyes. "Oh, please, brother. Have you expected me to magically change my entire nature? You're a fool if so."

"Perhaps it was wishful thinking." Hwanin inclines his head. "You resemble Father in more ways than mere appearance, Seokga."

He stiffens.

Hwanin and Seokga's father, Mireuk, ruled Okhwang before Hwanin came into power. Mireuk created the kingdom in the sky, after all, along with the underwater realm of Yongwangguk, the underworld realm of Jeoseung, the wily realm of Gamangnara, and the mortal plane of Iseung—sharing rule with Seokga and Hwanin's mother, Mago. But that was all before the god of creation went mad and unleashed torrents of suffering upon the worlds. He created plagues and with them the disease gods, including Manura, the smallpox goddess with a tendency to target children. Starvation, poverty, depression, droughts, floods. Mireuk dreamed all of it up in his delirium.

Seokga and Hwanin deposed the old god as neatly as they could, imprisoning him deep within Yeomra's realm, where he rots to this day. As bad as Seokga is, as evil and as wicked…he is nothing like their father.

Nothing.

"Do not," Seokga says, barely able to breathe around his fury, "compare me to Father."

"I will do as I please. And you're certainly not like our slumbering mother, Mago, delicate and kind." Hwanin shrugs. "I'm glad she sleeps underneath the mountains of this realm, if only to spare her from your misdeeds."

Seokga bites the inside of his cheek.

Yes, Mago would certainly be angry with her youngest son should she wake from her nap and find that he tried to overthrow her eldest son from the throne. Of course you've engaged in more testosterone-fueled battle. I'm not even surprised, she'd snip, and then most likely would cuff him on the ear.

Hwanin smiles blandly. "Just out of curiosity, Seokga, how much of a dent have you made in your assignment?"

"My assignment?" Seokga repeats incredulously. "My punishment, you mean. And I'm doing fine enough," he snaps, "thank you very much."

Hwanin doesn't so much as blink at the acid dripping from Seokga's tone. "Have you reached twenty thousand?"

"What," Seokga grits out, "do you think?" He would not be sitting in this grimy restaurant if he had.

"Ah." Hwanin settles back in his chair, his expression unreadable.

"Answer my former question. What brings you to New Sinsi?"

"I come on behalf of Yeomra."

"Yeomra?" Seokga blinks. The god of the dead cannot leave Jeoseung, but if he has sent Hwanin…Ah. "You mean because of the eoduksini."

His brother inclines his head in a slight nod. "One of the demons escaped his realm a night ago."

Seokga tries not to look too guilty.

Hwanin's (also silver) brows slant somewhat downward. "Why are you making that face? You look ill."

Seokga is spared a response as the waiter returns and slides the bowls of beef stew before the two gods, along with two small glasses and two bottles of soju. Seokga doesn't touch the food, even as Hwanin takes a bite.

"Never mind," his brother amends as he swallows and dabs his lips with a napkin. "I don't want to know what general unpleasantness is going on in your head." Hwanin sets down the cloth. "I understand that you've been attempting to hunt the eoduksini down."

"That's correct, yes," Seokga says warily.

"And have you gotten very far?"

"The eoduksini has taken a physical body," Seokga replies. "I am trying to uncover who it has possessed. There is a considerable lack of evidence."

"I see." Hwanin pours some soju into a glass. The clear alcoholic beverage burbles as it streams from the bottle. As he sets it back down, he meets Seokga's gaze evenly. "I come here, Seokga, to offer you a bargain."

Time seems to still. "A bargain?"

Hwanin sips casually at his drink. "Yes, brother. A bargain."

Seokga swallows, suddenly feeling incredibly light-headed. "I am listening," he says, careful to control his voice and hide any sign of eagerness that might slip through. Yet Hwanin doesn't look fooled, and seems as if he's hiding a bitter smile.

"The eoduksini cannot remain in New Sinsi," Hwanin says, setting down his glass. "It is hungry for life, and this place teems with it. We imprisoned this breed of demon far away from here for a reason. The victims will begin to pile up soon enough. The eoduksini will not stop until it has eaten its way through the entire city. I expect that there will be at least one more murder tonight."

Seokga waits.

"I do not know if you are aware, brother, but it is very easy for an eoduksini to kill a god. Permanently." Hwanin meets his gaze. "They feed on life, and we brim with it. We would satisfy a large portion of their appetites. And I assume that it will want to punish you for the part you played in Gamangnara's shutdown. You are, I think, in some danger."

It is very easy for an eoduksini to kill a god.

Permanently.

Impossible.

Gods can be severely hurt, yes, but they cannot be killed. Not for good, at any rate. Although their bodies can grow old, or occasionally even succumb to grievious injury, members of the pantheon do not suffer as others do. Instead, they simply undergo godly reincarnation and continue to exist in the realms above the underworld, perfectly fine (all things considered). Their injured or elderly bodies will disintegrate, to be promptly replaced by a younger, healthier body in which the same soul—with the same memories and same divine powers—nests. This is no normal reincarnation; this is deity reincarnation. For gods cannot die, not really. To claim that an eoduksini can truly murder a deity—to dispatch them into Jeoseung, forever—is blasphemous.

"No," Seokga cuts back, mouth dry. For if what Hwanin has said is true, then that means…

Hwanin studies him closely. "The eoduksini were in your army, brother. You mean to say that you didn't know what they could do? To me? To the pantheon? Even to you?"

The trickster god's lips tighten and he stares, fixedly, at his bowl of galbi-tang. It does not look particularly appealing in the least, with bits of grayish fat floating at the top along with limp scallions, but he takes a hesitant spoonful anyway—if only to have an excuse to delay his response.

It is disgusting.

He swallows with difficulty.

"Seokga." His brother is studying him suspiciously.

With a tight jaw, Seokga sets down his spoon and chooses his response carefully. "I didn't know the demons could kill you," he snaps. "I thought they would just…hurt you to the point of incapacitation."

Hwanin seems to have come to some sort of conclusion. His face softens for a brief moment as he ceases his antagonizing scrutiny and sips his soju. A flare of intense agitation shoves words to Seokga's mouth.

"Mind you," the trickster bites out, voice as sharp as a blade lest Hwanin should get the wrong sort of idea, "I wouldn't have been beside myself with grief if it murdered you."

"Of course not." His insufferable sibling seems to be trying, very hard, to hide a smirk.

"I would have been pleased." Seokga frowns. "But that's assuming that you're even right. The eoduksini is a lesser creature in comparison to the gods—"

"You'll find, brother, that those whom you deem ‘lesser' possess a hunger to become greater. A hunger that killing a god can sate." Hwanin stirs his galbi-tang as Seokga glowers. "Yeomra, unfortunately, has had the short stick for many years. Living with constant threats under his roof, fearing what will happen if his security measures were breached. I do not envy him."

"What are you trying to say?"

"I'm saying that the New Sinsi eoduksini is not a problem that I particularly want to deal with myself," Hwanin replies, calmly sipping his soup. "Nor does the rest of the pantheon. And now that I've told you this piece of information, I doubt that you do, either. But I'm afraid you have no choice."

"I'm no coward." But it's true. Seokga does not want to die. Perhaps if he relocates to Seoul…Hmm.

"The eoduksini will gorge itself on every Iseung country if it is not stopped," Hwanin retorts, evidently understanding Seokga's train of thought. "It is in their nature to destroy, and destroy, and destroy. Eoduksini are gluttonous. It's what makes them such capable torturers in hell. Tell me, Seokga, have you given any thought to the demon's motive?"

"It just escaped Jeoseung. It's hungry," Seokga mutters. "And it wants to be a pain in my ass."

"Yes, but there's more. Gamangnara is locked. It's inaccessible." Hwanin's eyes darken. "But Gamangnara wasn't always a Dark World. Before you or I were born, it was a realm much like Iseung. But then Father created the eoduksini and gave to them Gamangnara. They turned it into what we know it as: a place of darkness and destruction. If the eoduksini cannot go back to Gamangnara, brother, it will re-create it. The more victims it takes, the stronger it grows. Once it's capable, it will not hesitate to create another Dark World here."

Sweat slides down Seokga's temples. Why is it, he thinks, that his actions always have to have such big fucking consequences? "So reopen Gamangnara."

Hwanin scoffs. "You know that's impossible. Once the pantheon locks a realm, it's final."

"You have to try," he presses, hating that he is practically begging this of Hwanin. "If you manage to unlock Gamangnara, Iseung is saved. The eoduksini can go there, and the Unrulies, too. Everybody is happy." Except him. Seokga hasn't been happy since he discovered coffee for the first time, and even that was a fleeting burst of joy. Happiness just doesn't seem to be in the cards for him anymore.

"I wouldn't have come here," Hwanin replies quietly, "if we hadn't already tried. Besides, Seokga, we locked that realm for a reason." The heavenly emperor fixes the trickster with a look that's almost wry. "Even if we could, I'm not sure that unlocking Gamangnara would be the best idea."

Seokga groans as Hwanin continues. "There is no choice for South Korea but to rid itself of the eoduksini. To send it back to Yeomra's realm."

"And you want me to do that." Seokga sneers. "It's very typical of you, Hwanin."

"I am willing to offer you something in exchange."

He arches a brow, trying to hide his sudden flare of interest. "What?"

Hwanin hesitates before leaning forward, the stars burning brighter in his eyes. "I have heard things while in Okhwang," he says in a low voice. "I have heard of the eoduksini; I have also heard of the Scarlet Fox's return. It was she who terrorized Goryeo all those years ago, no? I distinctly remember receiving a suspiciously large number of prayers relating to the need for protection from a certain gumiho."

"Goryeo," Seokga agrees, "and Joseon. Among others." All of Korea once lived in fear of the voracious gumiho.

"Ah. Two monsters prowl the streets of Iseung, terrorizing those I wish to protect. So. Let me offer you this, brother."

Seokga holds his breath, rigid and pale in his seat as he waits for the bargain.

"Kill the Scarlet Fox. Kill the eoduksini. And in return, Seokga, I will lessen your sentence on Iseung."

"What," Seokga breathes hoarsely, "do you mean, exactly, by ‘lessen'?"

"I mean that…" Hwanin offers a tight smile. "I mean that you will be reinstated to your former position. Effective immediately."

Reinstated to your former position.

Seokga hides his trembling hands underneath the table.

Effective immediately.

Hwanin watches him carefully, those tapered eyes not missing a single movement. "Of course, there will be restrictions. You'll be on house arrest in your old palace for a decade or two, and required to attend mandatory counseling to ensure that you don't…ah…snap again."

His old palace. The sprawling dark palace of ebony and glossy black roof tiles, stretching out across the cloud-covered hills of Okhwang. The bamboo gardens, the bubbling koi pond, the halls of polished stone and looming ceilings. Seokga's breath catches in his throat. Home. For the first time in centuries upon centuries upon centuries, he has the chance to go home. To leave these sniveling mortals to their own devices, to once again drink fine wines underneath the star-dappled skies, to once again be Seokga the God. Seokga the Powerful. Seokga the…Seokga. He will be Seokga again.

He swallows, his mouth dry, his tongue heavy. A hot sweat trickles down the nape of his neck as his heart pounds frantically against his rib cage. "How do I know," he manages to whisper, "that this isn't some cruel joke, brother?"

Too good to be true. Too good to be true.

"Because," Hwanin replies quietly, "I am willing to swear it on Hwanung."

Seokga lurches back as if he's been struck. To make a vow on the god of law is to make an unbreakable vow. When one makes a vow on Hwanung, the son of Hwanin will forever hold the promising parties accountable to their oaths. "On Hwanung," he repeats hoarsely. "You will swear it on Hwanung."

Hwanin inclines his head. "Yes."

Seokga's head is spinning. Reinstated to your former position. Effective immediately. Reinstated to your former position. Effective…"It's a deal," he rasps. "I agree. I agree to the terms." Find and kill the Scarlet Fox. Find and kill the eoduksini.

Become a full-strength god again.

His brother, Emperor of Okhwang, extends a slender hand.

Seokga hesitates. The last time he touched his brother, he was trying to hurt him very, very badly.

Hwanin waits, his expression patient. Serene. If there is any hint of a grudge still held, Seokga does not see it. His older brother has always been more mature than him.

Seokga extends a violently shaking hand. Hwanin clearly pretends not to notice the tremors wracking Seokga's fingers as he clasps his hand in his own.

For a moment, it's almost as if they're children again. Before the jealousy. Before the favoritism, the endless competitions. For a moment, the two brothers are shaking on a bet, helping the other off the ground, passing hidden notes from palm to palm. Hwanin's hand feels the same, even after all these centuries: calloused despite its smooth appearance. Warm. Firm. Steady. Like Mago's.

But then Hwanin's hand heats to a searing degree, and Seokga fights back a flinch.

"I swear on my son, Hwanung, god of laws and kept promises, that should you—Seokga the Fallen, Seokga the Silver-Tongued—kill both the eoduksini and the Scarlet Fox, you shall be reinstated to your former positions as god of mischief, god of deceit, god of chaos, and god of treachery, et cetera, et cetera." The heat of his hand cuts into Seokga's own, as hot as a crackling wildfire. "This is my bargain, my oath to you. May Hwanung hold me accountable."

Seokga hisses between his teeth as smoke steams from their interlocked hands. Hwanin finally withdraws, and as the burning sensation disappears, Seokga looks down at his right palm. There is a small crater of burnt skin in the center, a mark of the promise made. It fades quickly, for visible markings of a promise never linger long. It is on the individual to keep to the oath without blatant reminder, but the memory of it still burns into his skin, binding him to the oath.

Hwanin's stare bores into him. "You have until the Spring Solstice. If you fail to stop the eoduksini by then, the rest of our pantheon will have no choice but to intervene. And if we have to intervene, we won't be very happy with you."

The Spring Solstice. Chunbun. March 20.

Seokga has sixteen days.

He looks to his brother, but Hwanin is already flickering around the edges, preparing to teleport back to Okhwang. "Wait." The word flies out of his mouth before he can stop it. Hwanin lifts a brow, and Seokga can't stop the question that rips through his lips, a suspicious demand. "Why tell me of the risk hunting an eoduksini brings? I was already working on the case, unaware of the danger." Why warn me? Why not let me die?

Hwanin's answering stare is almost sad. Seokga does not quite know what to make of it. "Maybe," he replies, his form now barely visible, "because I do not want you to die, little brother."

Seokga gapes.

A moment later, Hwanin disappears into nothingness, returning to his kingdom in the sky.