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Chapter Text

“Up, up, up!” Jin reached and yanked at the thin blanket, exposing two bed-heads.

“Nooo,” Jimin whined, wiggling his fingers out towards his toes, desperately searching for their cover. Tae squinted one eye and attempted to roll into the wall.

Jin ducked down and did the same to Joon and Hobi. If anything, the teenagers gave even less signs of life. Jin sighed. “Hey brats, wanna help me wake up your Hyungs?”

Two little heads popped up quickly, glee in their eyes.

“See,” Jin teased, “I knew you were awake.”

Tae and Jimin jostled each other to see who would be first to use the bunkbed ladders. Satisfied, Jin turned back to the other bunkbed. “Yoongi,” he said softly, reaching up to run a hand through Yoongi’s hair because he wouldn’t get away with it when the second-oldest was awake. “It’s 5am.”

Yoongi groaned. Meanwhile, Jimin had grown impatient waiting for Tae to climb down the ladder and was swinging himself from their bunk onto the chest of a startled Hobi who let out a wheeze. “Morning, morning, morning,” Tae sang in Namjoon’s ear.

Jin smiled at his little alarm clocks. Joon and Hobi would be up soon enough. Which was good, because it would take an army to get Yoongi out of bed on time.

“Come on, baby,” he stooped down to collect Jungkook from their bottom bunk. The toddler amiably raised his arms to be lifted. Jin couldn’t help but chuckle. “You’re my good boy, aren’t you.”

“Good boy,” Jungkook agreed, tucking his head into Jin’s neck for an extra ten seconds’ kip.

The only way for them to maintain a modicum of hygiene was to get up before the other three dorms. God knew it wasn’t easy, Jin hadn’t been blessed with a group of early birds, but this was infinitely better than the bruises they’d incurred by trying to use the communal bathroom at the same time as everyone else.

The hallway was silent, one grimy window revealing white sunlight creeping out across the icy fields and the roofs of the town. Jin crossed to the bathroom, his routine automatic.

He laid a threadbare towel out on the cold stone floor and Jungkook on top of that. Jungkook kicked his chubby legs and tried to catch his feet. Jin’s heart warmed at the sight, as it just did every morning. He made quick work switching out Jungkook’s diaper, setting the old one to the side to be boiled later. Then they washed their hands, and Jungkook splashed happily while Jin tried to get some lather out of their slither of soap. He tugged Jungkook’s nightshirt (one of the girls’ old blouses they’d cut to size) over his tousled head, and gave him a quick wash down. Then they had their daily fight over the toothbrush, which Jungkook had decided recently he absolutely hated.

“No, Din!” The baby wagged his finger, and Jin realised that he was watching a perfect mimic. “Naughty!”

“It’s not naughty, Kookie, it’s for your own good,” Jin seized the toddler’s jaw in as firm a grip as he could manage without hurting him, and made quick work of the tiny pearly whites. He was determined to keep Jungkook’s teeth as perfect as they were when they first started to pop through his gums.

On cue, Namjoon arrived, rubbing his eyes.

“Go on,” Jin set Jungkook down on his feet. He was still wobbly, but he managed a couple of steps before stumbling. Namjoon caught his arms, and rebalanced him. “Morning, Hyung,” he smiled blearily, taking both of Jungkook’s hands to walk him out.

“Morning, Joon,” Jin smiled back.

Then he was alone for a rare few minutes. He worked quickly to take care of his own needs. He frowned at himself in their mirror. It wasn’t the best for a clear view. There was one huge crack down the centre from the time Moon and Young-gi had slammed Tae headfirst into it, and brown age spots that no amount of scrubbing on Jin’s part seemed to remove. He smoothed out his eyebrows, pulled out his comb and worked on his hair, splashed some more cold water on his face.

He didn’t have time for much more. Yoongi appeared at the bathroom door. He grunted, eyes still closed, fighting back a yawn.

“Good morning to you too!” Jin resisted the urge to pinch Yoongi’s cheeks. He passed the toothbrush and soap over and gathered Jungkook’s things to take back to their room.

“Jin, Jin!” Jimin sprinted forward. “Can I wear my blue shirt today?”

Jin knew Yoongi should never have bought Jimin that shirt at the market last week. The colour was too bright, the quality too good. Jin had already tried to explain to Jimin that they should keep it for special occasions. But on more than one occasion he’d caught Jimin sneaking his hand into their chest of drawers, running his hand lovingly over the material. It made Jin’s heart ache to watch. He wanted the kids to have nice things. But even more he wanted them to stay safe.

“Please?” Jimin beseeched, in full puppy-eye mode.

Jin found it hard to be tough on the eight-year olds. “Okay.” He conceded. “But you need to take good care of it.”

“I will!” Jimin cheered, enveloping Jin in a huge hug, before dancing away. “Tae, Tae, guess what-”

Jin smiled and shook his head. Hobi and Joon had got Jungkook into his little dungarees and he was settled on the floor with Mr Pot Belly. Joon was sitting on their lower bunk reading, snatching every chance he could.

Hobi was stretching his long limbs out, stiff after being curled up in the too-small beds. They wished each other good morning, then Jin crossed to the little kids.

“Can I brush Kookie’s hair today?” Tae snuggled into Jin’s side as Jin wrestled his hair into place.

“As long as you remember to be gentle,” Jin cautioned. “Come here, Jimin, you too.”

Once both of the eight year olds were done, the comb now entrusted to Tae, Jin rummaged for his work clothes, handing Yoongi’s over as he re-entered the room. Living at such close quarters they were used to changing in front of each other. Jin made sure he was ready so that by the time Hobi and then Namjoon returned he would be able to make sure Tae and Jimin didn’t try to skip out on their teeth either.

They were an ants colony, but Jin was ever proud when they all clattered downstairs at 5:30am to the sound of the other boys and two girls’ dorms beginning their daily fight over the meagre bathroom facilities.

When it had been discovered that Jin had a talent for cooking, he’d been assigned the task of making breakfast for the Orphanage Mistress and Masters each morning. He was delighted to, because none would rise this early and if he was careful, he could get a moderate breakfast down his boys and wash the evidence up before any one else arrived on scene.

Yoongi was breaking up a porridge flicking competition between Jimin and Tae while Namjoon read his book under the table and Hobi spooned the last bits of porridge down Jungkook’s throat when they heard the sound of heavy footsteps. Jin felt his heart jump into his throat, his own hurried mouthfuls now sitting uneasily. He rose quickly, scraping his chair back, as the little family made fast work of evacuating the table behind him and clearing the accompanying evidence.

“Good morning, Jin.” Master Lee said, eyebrows raised as Jin all but jumped into the corridor to block off his route.

“Good morning, Master Lee.” Jin said politely.

“You look like a startled rabbit this morning,” Master Lee frowned at him. “And you know I told you to call me Geonu when we’re alone.”

“I remember, Master Lee.” Jin said stiffly. His skin was crawling as Master Lee looked him up and down, standing too close, his hot breath fanning against the side of Jin’s face. But at least he hadn’t seen the kitchen clear up.

“You’re not yourself today,” Master Lee said, cocking his head.

“I wasn’t expecting you all so early,” Jin hesitated, looking beyond Master Lee as though the other two managers would appear.

“I got up intentionally. I wanted to have a chat with you,” Master Lee said. “I assumed this would be a good time to get you alone without your little brood.”

At this point one of the little brood managed to drop something from the table with an almighty clatter. Jin flinched. Master Lee’s face darkened. “What are they doing in there, Jin?”

“They- uh- they were helping me set the table for you all,” Jin stuttered.

“You know they’re not supposed to be in the kitchen,” Master Lee glowered, and Jin shut his eyes expecting a blow. Instead, he felt sweaty fingers on his cheek. “Open your eyes, Jin. I’ll tell you what, it can be our little secret. One of several, eh?”

Jin choked. “Okay.”

“And I’ll have that chat with you later today. Now, since I’m here, is my breakfast ready?”

“Almost, I can plate it now. And shall I take the others back upstairs?”

“Yes,” Master Lee waved a hand. “I don’t want to see those snivelling brats before I have to.”

As Jin herded them all together, Namjoon whispering an urgent apology for dropping one of the wooden utensils, Yoongi cast him a concerned look.

“What was that all about?”

“What was what all about?” Jin dismissed innocently, hoisting Jungkook onto his hip.

Yoongi shrugged. “Nothing.” But the taut look on his face suggested that he wasn’t going to let it go.

“Come along everyone!” Jin took Tae’s hand and lead the group back towards the stairs. He glanced over his shoulder to see Master Lee enter the room and look approvingly, first at his breakfast and then up at Jin.

Jin knew the dread was going to sit with him all day.

Chapter Text

Master Lee came back just before lunchtime.

It was their dorm’s rotation to work in the nearby carpet factory for the morning. When Jin was just four years old, the office of the town mayor decided that since the community gave so much to maintain the orphanage, the orphans should pay back into the community by supplying places where there was a shortage of workers. The older children were told that it would facilitate them finding employment when they turned eighteen and left the orphanage. Jin often wondered if the mayor’s office knew that children as small as Jimin and Tae were running under carpet presses, snatching up loose pieces of cotton and then dashing back out before the press came down flat. There had only been one fatality since the process started, Jin clearly remembered the girls coming home sobbing, minus one of their nine year olds. Even the Mistress and Masters had found it difficult to stomach that day, their faces grey and their blows lighter, but the children were kept on the rotation nevertheless, as soon as the press had been cleaned up.

So carpet factory duty was something Jin feared. It tended to be the smaller children who worked under the press, and by the age of eight Jimin and Tae had become fast as whippets at it, fearless, bags stuffed with cotton. The older children were permitted to operate machinery, work with dyes and attend to the boilers. It was oppressively hot sometimes, the adult workers were underpaid and overworked and tended to have little to say to the orphans. There was the additional challenge for the four older hyungs to be on constant rotation, so that someone could be with Jungkook. If Jungkook began bawling they’d take him beside the noisiest piece of machinery they could find, which not only drowned out his cries, but also seemed to soothe him.

Jin was with Jungkook when Master Lee entered and began walking imperiously through the factory. Ever anxious since this morning, Jin noticed him almost immediately. He quickly hid their supplies in his apron pockets. Each of them scavenged bits of cotton and thread and wool. Together with old picked-apart hemp rope and a good needle they would create little multicoloured dolls in the privacy of their room in the evenings. It had been Namjoon’s idea when Jungkook was born to pay for a wet nurse. Now that Jungkook was older they continued to sell the little dolls at the market, and used the money for neccessities, like new soap or bandages or even more food, and occasionally a splash out purchase like Jimin's blue shirt. Jungkook’s own little handmade doll, Mr Pot Belly (because they’d crammed as much stuffing into him as possible) accompanied Jungkook everywhere. It was an enterprising initiative on their part, and they knew they couldn’t afford to let the orphanage managers, or indeed the other orphans know about it.

“Hello, Jin.” Master Lee said warmly, as Jin hastily got to his feet and hoped his burgeoning apron wasn’t noticeable.

“Sir.” Master Lee was cold to everyone, even to Jin himself up to two years ago. The friendliness oozing out of him made Jin shudder now.

“I think I’ll have that word with you now.”

“Let me just find someone to take-”

“Oh not at all,” Master Lee gave a shark’s teeth smile and scooped Jungkook up into his own arms. “Come along.”

Jungkook’s face crumpled.

“Please let me carry him, Sir,” Jin had to quicken his speed to keep pace with them, his heart hammering.

“Din!” Jungkook cried out, his big doe eyes welling up, little hands squirming out from where they were pressed against Master Lee’s shoulder to reach for his hyung.

“Please, Sir!” Jin tried again, weaving past other workers, eyes intent on his baby.

Jungkook began to cry in earnest, struggling against Mr Lee who delivered a sharp swat to his backside. At Jungkook’s cry of pain, Jin felt his own eyes pricking. “Please!”

“Bad tempered little thing, isn’t he,” Master Lee said. “You spoil him too much. He needs a good smacking.”

“He’s just a baby!”

Master Lee pushed through the double doors, out towards the factory entrance. “Come along this way, Jin.”

He used to call him Seokjin, up till two years ago.

Jungkook’s face was bright red, thrashing and sobbing his heart out. Jin had caught up enough that he took one of the little hands and wrapped the tiny fingers round two of his own. “It’s okay, Kookie, it’s okay,” he reassured, but Jungkook had already heard the panic in Jin’s voice and wasn’t falling for it. Still, his hand clutched on to Jin’s fingers for dear life, and they made an odd procession until Master Lee stopped at one of the offices and led them inside.

“Take a seat, Jin,” he gestured benevolently.

“Please,” Jin said, his voice now as worn and frayed as the old rugs they picked apart.

“You ask very nicely,” Master Lee smiled, and finally, finally, handed the one year old over.

Jin’s breath came out in a great whoosh, as Jungkook clung to him, pressing his face into his neck and twisting his fingers in Jin’s collar. Mr Pot Belly, who had been pressed between Jungkook and Master Lee fell to the ground unheeded. Jin sat down and pushed a leg out to shuffle it towards him so that he could pick it up later. “Thank you,” he said gratefully, rubbing up and down Jungkook’s back.

“He’s very attached to you,” Master Lee noted.

Jin didn’t want Master Lee to note that, so said nothing. “Din,” Jungkook whispered. “Shhh.” Jin replied, rocking him softly and stroking the back of Jungkook’s neck in a way that usually put him under.

There was an unpleasant gleam in Master Lee’s eyes as he observed their interaction. “Perhaps you’re wondering what I want to speak to you about.”

Jin nodded, mutely.

“As you know, we don’t have a record of your date of birth,” Mr Lee stayed at the front of the desk, resting against it, poking at the typewriter that sat in one corner. Jin knew he was friends with the owner of the carpet factory, and supposed this was his office. It was simple, modern, cool and clean, a stark contrast to the grime and sweat of the factory beyond it.

“But it seems probable that you are turning sixteen next week.”

Jin got a creeping sensation that he knew where this was going. His heart thudded sick in his chest, and he prayed that it didn’t disturb Jungkook.

“I believe so, sir.” He tried to keep his voice level.

“In the past,” Mr Lee pushed up from the desk again, beginning to stroll across the room, picking things up, examining them, putting them back down again like he had all the time in the world, “we’ve sent our young people away from the age of eighteen. But we’ve had a lot of financial cutbacks-”

Lies. They didn’t spend a penny on either the orphans or the orphanage if they didn’t have to. If anything, they made money from them. Jin bit his tongue to prevent himself retaliating.

“So therefore,” Mr Lee began to walk around Jin’s chair, slow, his footsteps sounding on the wooden floor. Jin felt the hairs on his arms spike. “We’re dropping the age to sixteen. Next week, you’ll be free to go.”

“What?” Jin croaked.

“You mean 'pardon',” Master Lee smiled victoriously.

“P-pardon?”

“Aren’t you excited? You’ll be able to go out into the world and make a living for yourself. Forget this place ever existed. You might meet a pretty lady and start having some babies of your own. You won’t care about this one any more.”

The last words were whispered into his ear, slick and warm. Jin felt like he’d been stabbed in the chest.

“I-I’d like to stay, sir.” They needed him. Who else was going to stop the other boys bullying his dorm or oversee Operation Wake-Yoongi, or listen to Namjoon rattle off his hundreds of invention ideas, or snuggle Tae and Jimin and read them a bed time story, or calm Hobi down when he began bouncing off the walls? And what about Jungkook? They weren’t going to keep Jungkook were they? He was only here because of Jin, after all. Surely they’d at least let him take his baby? They couldn’t be that evil…

The thought was extinguished the moment he thought of it. They were that evil.

“I’d like you to stay too, Jin.” Master Lee said, coming round Jin’s other side. Jungkook was still and Jin hoped he was asleep. “I like you very much. I think you’ve grown into a very beautiful young man.” He reached out then, and brushed his fingers on Jin’s cheek, just as he’d done this morning. Jin stayed stalk still, his breathing erratic. “Now that you’ll be considered an adult, I think we could find a place for you on our staff. You could still prepare breakfast for myself and the others, and you would room with me - since staying in the dorms would be out of the question - but you could watch over the children every day. And you could keep the baby with you, as long as you keep him quiet. What do you think, Jin?”

Jin could read between the lines. He knew exactly what he was being offered, because he knew what he’d had to do to stop them throwing newborn Jungkook out into the gutter. It was the darkest thing he’d ever done, and he would never forgive himself for it, but he’d wanted so desperately to save the little life that was now curled up against his chest. He’d promised himself he would never do something so low again, and the thought of breaking that promise made him want to vomit.

If I say no, he’ll throw me out, and he’ll kill Jungkook. Looking into Master Lee’s eyes, he knew it was a certainty.

“Can I… can I have some time to think about it?” He asked, feeling himself shaking, feeling Jungkook stir because of it.

“Of course you can, you have all week.” Master Lee smiled, and reached forward, his oily hand slipping around Jin’s jaw. “I promise I’ll take good care of you.” He bent in, and placed a kiss on Jin’s cheek. Just in case his intentions were misconstrued. Jin almost wanted to laugh hysterically.

“Here’s your dolly back, baby.” Master Lee picked it up and waved it at Jungkook. Hesitantly, Jungkook reached out and took it, curling it into a hug.

“May I be excused now, Sir?” Jin shifted in his seat, trying to keep the other two apart. “I should go back to work.”

“Of course, Jin.” Master Lee waved his arm at the door. “Feel free to come back to me once you’ve made your decision.”

Jin had never ran so fast in his life, not even in the days where he was working under the carpet press. He ran up and round the corridor, tucking himself out of sight and sliding down the wall. Now his breath came in heaves, and he lost the fight to stop his tears spilling out.

A little hand touched his face, so different from the one he’d felt earlier.

“Don’t be sad, Din.” Jungkook said, wiping at the drops that trickled from the corners and down Jin’s nose. “Love you, baby boy.”

Jin choked out a laugh through his tears at Jungkook’s mimicry. “You’re the baby boy. But I love you too.”

He just wished he knew what to do.

Chapter Text

He returned to the others just before the bell rang for lunch.

“I was looking for you two,” Hobi frowned, walking towards them, wiping the sweat from his brow with a grubby sleeve. “What happened?”

He was still growing, Jin noted absently. They’d rolled the cuffs of Hobi’s work trousers slightly to disguise the fact that the material ended a good inch before his ankles. He’d always been so wiry that Jin’s old clothes hung on him and he was already too tall for Yoongi’s.

“I’m fine,” he brushed the younger off with a watery smile, passing Jungkook over. As expected Hobi was quickly distracted as Jungkook beamed at him, instantly recovered as only babies can be.

“You look like you’ve been crying.” Namjoon cocked his head curiously, hands in pockets, probably hiding bundles of thread. “Your upper lip is all pink.”

“Din is sad.” Jungkook informed Hobi, reaching up to play with his ear. Two heads turned on Jin.

Traitor. Jin ruffled Jungkook’s hair. “I swear, I’m fine.”

“Who’s fine?” Yoongi was approaching with the kids in tow. Jimin’s blue shirt had wriggled out of his trousers, but was unexpectedly still clean.

“I am!” Jin said. “I’m fine. Everything’s fine.”

Everything was not fine. He ate mechanically over lunch, gnawing the days-old bread, dunking in the vegetable broth to soften it. He tried to join in the conversation, but contributed even less than Jungkook. Namjoon was teaching the others about Ostriches. Tae was proposing some alternative facts, adamant that a giant bird should be able to fly. Jimin wanted to ride on the back of one and challenge Hobi to a race. Yoongi remarked that he’d like to know what one tasted like. Namjoon called them all uncivilised, and everyone else laughed.

Could this be his last week with them?

“Hurry up, Seokjin, you know better than to dawdle.” Mistress Khang swatted him over the head with her ladle. Moon and Young-gi’s dorm almost spat out the last of their soup in mirth. Even the girls over at the other table spluttered. It wasn’t like Jin to lose concentration. His cheeks flamed as his scalp stung, and he ducked his head to gulp down the rest of the lukewarm soup. Out of the corner of his eye he saw his dorm send each other concerned glances. Jungkook tried to go to Jin, but Yoongi held him on his lap. “Be patient, Kookie. Let Jin finish.”

Jin nearly choked to make sure he’d caught up. He still feared Mistress Khang, even though he was the same height as she was now. He’d thought she was old when he was a small child and he thought she was old now, yet her appearance hadn’t changed. She wore a high-necked white blouse which made her head look tiny, even with her grey hair pinned immaculately atop. She had a flowing layered black skirt, which swished as she approached, and boots which most of them had felt the full force of at some point in their young lives.

“I think Mistress Khang could be an ostrich,” Hobi observed in a low voice once she was a safe distance away, scolding one of the girls. The others grinned uneasily. Mistress Khang was the stuff of nightmares. Jin has been raised on tales of how Mistress Khang would appear at midnight in the dorms of the naughtiest children, her bony hands outstretched like claws, the whites of her eyes turned black and her teeth bared. Even though he knew better now, knew the older kids were just trying to keep the younger ones in line, the image was imbedded in his mind.

He rubbed his head softly as they all scraped their wooden benches back, wondering if she’d managed to knock some sense to him. But no, he was still bewildered by the sudden events of the morning.

He remained spaced out through the afternoon, despite it being his favourite work assignment: cultivating the orphanage gardens. He loved the breeze on his skin, the feeling of fresh soil under his fingernails, even if it was hell to get out later, and the smell of the apple trees, pumpkin patches and raspberry bushes. He loved seeing the kids out in the fresh air, their cheeks rosy and eyes shiny.

They were frequently left unsupervised: the high walls around the garden prevented too much mischief, so Master Cho tended to sidle back indoors if he deemed the weather too hot or too cold. Jin often worked twice as hard so that Tae and Jimin could play, chasing each other rag-tag, or pushing the boundaries of hide and seek. They could all also slip a morsel or two into their mouths if they were sure no-one was looking down from the orphanage windows.

Moon and Young-gi’s dorm were over on the far left planting winter onion bulbs. Namjoon and Hobi were holding baskets under the apple trees, which Tae and Jimin were climbing to look for produce. Yoongi was sitting cross-legged teaching Jungkook how to pluck raspberries. So far the established pattern was one in the basket, one in Kookie’s mouth. Jin watched them fondly. There were days when Yoongi would shut down on them, silent and withdrawn, his face drawn in shadow. Jin knew he wanted to be alone but could never be alone, and it made his heart ache to see. The younger ones would shuffle about on those days, afraid of a temper which Yoongi had never used on them, casting anxious eyes at Jin to do something, to make it better.

In the last few months, Jin had learned how. He would gently set Jungkook on the bed, and the little one, with some kind of inbuilt instinct to seek out a heat source to cuddle, would crawl his way over to Yoongi, clamber over his body and nestle into the space between Yoongi’s chin and chest. The others would watch with bated breath as Yoongi’s eyes cracked open sharply and then softened just as quickly, an arm sliding around to hold Jungkook in place, as they breathed together. A short while later Yoongi would be at peace. Sometimes he even offered Jin a smile for his efforts.

Jin forced himself to look away from the pair of them and plunged his spade into the earth turning it over and over. He couldn’t bear to leave them. They needed him. They all needed each other. He was going to have to stay. He was going to have to take Master Lee up on his offer.

His fingers trembled as he stuffed the spade back down again, working up a sweat. He loved them more than he hated Master Lee, didn’t he? It was the only choice. And this way he might even be able to provide for them a little. He would make sure Master Lee didn’t touch a hair on their heads. He would press the sick darkness deep down inside of him, repress it forever if need be, endure whatever he needed to endure. He was already damaged and dirty. It didn’t matter.

It did matter. He felt hot tears prick at his eyes again and aggressively pushed them back. He couldn’t. He couldn’t bear to feel those hands again, to feel that-

“Aargh!” That was Tae. Jin whipped round. Hobi and Joon had dragged their laden baskets over to the back door and were in the process of collecting new empty ones. Meanwhile, the younger half of Moon’s dorm had gathered round Tae and Jimin’s tree and were trying to yank the eight year olds down by the ankles. The older ones were bunched together, enjoying the sport, egging it on.

“Let-him-go!” Jimin yelled at the ten year old who had a firm grip on Tae’s shoe. The next minute an apple bounced off the ten year old’s head. He let go with a shriek. Moon and Young-gi’s hackles went up, yelling at their twelve year old cohorts to get up the tree themselves.

“Woah, woah, woah!” Jin ran forward towards the kids, barely realising he still had his spade till it clanged against Moon’s.

“You wanna go?” Moon sneered, his own spade held in both hands like a staff. He was both broader and taller than Jin, despite being six months younger. He was always looking for a fight. His boys pushed and kicked their way to the front of queue for lunch, and Jin always conceded the place to them. Given that they had to work for each meal they got, the first official meal of the day was at lunchtime. If Jin felt ravenous by noon, knowing that his dorm had sneaked a breakfast each morning, it was no wonder Moon’s dorm were like a pack of hungry wolves by the same time. Jin also relinquished the peak bathroom time. He’d taught Yoongi not to snark back, he’d cautioned Namjoon on not making the other dorm feel stupid, he generally did everything in his power so everyone could get along together.

But Moon wanted to rule the roost. In a world where everything he did was controlled by the mistress and masters, he wanted anarchy. He wanted someone to hurt more than he was. And when that someone was Jin’s kids..

“Yeah, I’ll go.” He widened his stance.

“Jin!” Yoongi said, aghast, now holding Jungkook in his arms.

“You stay out of this!” Young-gi and the other two teenagers rounded on Namjoon and Hobi who were rushing forward.

Moon swung his spade towards Jin’s gut. Jin blocked him, pushed back a step by the strength of force.

“What’s got into you today? You’re always such a pacifist,” Moon grinned, redoubling his efforts and aiming for Jin’s head instead.

He heard Jimin screech in pain, and he barrelled the handle of his spade into Moon’s exposed stomach, ducking his head just in time to feel the whoosh of air as the other spade lashed past him. Moon backed off, winded, his face incredulous and pained. Jin knew it was just good fortune, but he made the most of it, hurtling past Moon and yanking the first twelve year old off Jimin, who was flat on his back under the tree while the other two still climbed for Tae.

Suddenly, without warning, he was hit square in the face. Cold. Freezing. It immobilised him, and suddenly he was standing drenched, gasping for breath, watching the hose take them out one after the other.

“You rabid little animals!” Master Cho screamed. “I can’t trust you to be alone for a single hour! I will be revoking all your gardening privileges until you can behave like young gentleman! Go to your dormitories, there’ll be no dinner for any of you tonight!”

The twelve year old that Jin had just shoved to the ground began to cry. Guiltily, Jin bent down for Jimin, heaving the sopping wet boy into his arms. He glanced upwards to check Tae was getting down okay, then hastily cast his gaze over to Yoongi as Jimin wrapped legs round his hips like a monkey, his cold wet fingers clasping the back of Jin’s neck.

Jungkook was soaked and stunned. Jin’s heart plummeted. He prayed Yoongi had protected him from the physical force of the water.

“Now!” Master Cho bellowed. The boys gingerly walked towards him, their thinness all the more clear in the way their clothes stuck to their bodies, wary of the weapon still in hand. Jin wouldn’t put it past Master Cho to blast them again out of spite, and he waited for Yoongi to catch up that he could block Jungkook from the hose as they passed by. Namjoon and Hobi had collected Tae and brought up the rear. They let Moon’s dorm pass through first, then followed. Jin felt himself shivering already. The girls, who were all seated in the classroom doing embroidery gaped openly at the parade of sopping wet boys, their heads hung.

“This isn’t finished,” Moon snarled at Jin as his boys rounded the top of the stairs.

“Rooms, now!” Master Cho yelled from behind Hobi and Tae.

Moon sent one more glower, and then they were gone, small puddles left in their wake.

Jin set Jimin down on his bed as soon as he could. “Chest over.”

Namjoon and Hobi scraped the heavy chest of drawers across the door. They did it every night so as not to risk a surprise attack from the other boy’s dorm.

Jin surveyed the damage quickly. “Alright, everybody strip.” He reached for Jungkook, and quickly sat down beside Jimin to unbutton the baby’s shirt and slide off the dungarees. Jungkook, who had been silent up till now, let out a very real whimper.

“I’m sorry baby,” Jin whispered, his fingers slipping down the buttons, “it’s my fault.”

“It wasn’t your fault,” Jimin’s little voice piped up beside him, teeth chattering. “You came to save us.”

Jin smiled at him sadly. Jimin could barely see, his hair was so long, flat against his head. Jin looked down. The blue shirt was torn and dirtied beyond repair.

“It’s okay,” Jimin said softly, giving Jin his bravest smile. “I don’t mind.”

Jin halted his work on Jungkook just for a moment to plant a kiss on Jimin’s head. “It’s not okay, but I’m proud of you for protecting Tae.”

Once they were stripped, the thin bed blankets went round Tae and Jimin, who cuddled together for warmth. They raided every clothing item they possessed in the chest of drawers, all the hand-me-downs that were waiting for someone to grow into them. The Hyungs got socks on Tae and Jimin and rubbed their heads dry. Jin got Jungkook into his nightwear, then wrapped him in his own warm Sunday jumper, which was meant for church. Namjoon took Jungkook to dry his hair while Jin stripped.

Soon they were all huddled together on Jin and Jungkook’s bed, rubbing warmth into each other’s hands. Jin held Jungkook to him, trying to press as much heat into him as possible, praying that no one got ill.

“Hey, stop hogging the hot water bottle,” Hobi said, trying to lighten the mood, and succeeding in raising a few smiles.

“Poor Kookie,” Tae said sadly, reaching out to stroke Jungkook‘s chubby cheek. The tree battle had left a gash on his left leg which they’d wound in bandage. Jimin was covered in scrapes and already had a beauty of a bruise forming on his stomach. They wore their injuries like badges of honour.

“Poor Kookie,” Jungkook agreed. Then he cocked his head back to look at Jin from the big bundle he was wrapped in. “No more bath, Din.”

Jin chuckled, relieved and grateful to hear Jungkook responding. “I know, baby. I think we’ve had three layers of skin washed off today!”

“No more Leeee, no more bath.” Jungkook said, satisfied. Jin blinked. Yoongi’s eyes were on him, and Jin knew that he knew.

“Okay, Hobi,” he said. “The floor is yours. I want you to teach us all your favourite dances. We need to keep the blood flowing. Then we’ll do our bedtime stories and have an early night.”

There was only a slither of a window in the cramped dormitory, and limited light with it, so hopefully the kids would be tried enough sleep through dinner time and they’d get up extra early in the morning for breakfast.

Jin loved his little family, watching them dance around with absolutely no music, tapping out beats on the bunkbed post and singing under their breaths. He loved their resilience and their hopefulness.

His stomach churned again at the impossible decision before him.

A few hours later, he had Tae curled under one arm and Jimin under the other, having finished their bedtime story. Namjoon was by far the best reader, but he always insisted the others practice too. Jin found himself making up the parts he couldn’t understand. Jimin and Tae didn’t mind. He slowly eased himself out from between the sleepy bodies, feeling their blanket to make sure it wasn’t too damp, before tucking it round them. Instinctively Jimin and Tae curled into each other. Jin hoisted himself over the edge of the bed, and hopped down from one of the rungs. They’d put Jungkook down earlier. He lay in bed, flat on his back, still wrapped in Jin’s jumper, but he’d wriggled his arms free and they lay on either side of his head, his fingers lightly curled. Jin strode over and gently laid his fingers on his baby’s face, hands and feet, making sure he was still warm.

“Alright.” Said Yoongi from behind him.

The three younger Hyungs sat cross-legged on the floor where they’d been murmuring quietly.

“Tell us everything.” Yoongi said softly.

Jin felt a lump form in his throat. “I can’t,” he said. “Not yet. I don’t know what to do, and I can’t burden you-”

“Of course you can,” Hobi said simply. “We’re in this together, Jin.”

Jin stared down at them, a fourteen year old and two thirteen year olds, who’d been living in this tiny room with him nearly all their lives, but were still so young, so innocent.

“You know,” Namjoon was hesitant at first. “A lot of people think the Ostrich buries its head in the sand because it wants to hide from its enemies. They laugh at it.”

“Isn’t that what it does?” Jin frowned.

Namjoon shook his head. “The Ostrich puts their head in the sand to check on their eggs. They roll the eggs over with their beaks and then their head comes right back up. No matter whether they end up fighting, hiding or running, their instinct is always to protect the babies.”

Jin nodded, took a shaky breath, walked over to them, and sat down.

Chapter Text

It was hard for Jin to remember that there was a time before Jungkook. Sometimes it was hard for him to remember Mishil was gone. It was even harder for him to remember that there was a brief time when they were both together.

The Mistress and Masters were lax about boys and girls mixing before Jungkook came along. For thirteen year old Jin, Mishil was his heroine. While the older boys in his dorm vastly ignored Jin and the younger ones, only sticking their necks out for themselves, Jin found himself relying on Mishil.

She was three years older than him, his first memory, his first playmate. Mishil was the one who related the day he’d been brought to the orphanage by an upper-class couple with their own horse and carriage who said they’d spotted him wandering the streets alone. Sometimes young Jin fantasised that the couple would come back, would realise that they couldn’t bear to leave them, and would whisk him away to a fancy mansion where he could eat as much as he wanted and sleep all day if he chose. He knew the cold reality was that they’d been kinder than most just to touch a dirty street urchin and go to the trouble of delivering him to a place where they thought he’d be safe.

Mishil was a dreamer like Jin, but a better one. She could conjure up images in his mind so real that he thought he could touch, taste and smell them. He would often slip into the girl’s dorm and sit cross-legged on her bed as she told him stories about all the exotic places they’d travel to and all the adventures they would have when they were older. It was her example in nurturing the younger girls which inspired Jin to gather Yoongi and Hoseok, and eventually the other three under his wings.

He thought he might be in love with her. When he’d ventured the suggestion, she laughed at him.

“There’s lots of kinds of love in the world, Jin,” she said, mirth in her brown eyes. “You aren’t in love in with me. Besides, you can’t afford to be. I’m already in love.”

His first instinct was jealously, his confused twelve-year-old feelings plugging his throat. He thought she meant one of the older boys in the orphanage. She’d told him half the story before he realised she was trusting him with a secret that no-one else knew.

There was a boy at the market, she said. He came every week, and they would spend a couple of hours together before she was obliged to hurry back to the orphanage with the assigned purchases. He was one year older, with midnight hair, a slight hook in his nose, a scar on his left cheek and galaxies in his eyes.

When she spoke about him, her whole face glowed.

Sometimes Jin wondered if the boy was real. Mishil told him all sorts of stories that he wanted to believe in; stories about kings, dragons, pirates, about the old crone who always sat in the third pew in church but would disappear when you looked at her, about the market stall which sold magical curiosities and the town neighbouring theirs which never slept because the sun never set on it. It was only around the time of his fourteenth birthday that he saw some proof of the boy.

“Look,” she said, in a hushed whisper, lifting the bottom corner of her thin mattress.

Jin stood barefoot, cupping a lit candle, almost burning his hand, aware that the slightest noise or light might wake the sleeping girls in the room.

There was a small collection of personal items underneath, but the one she plucked up from the pile gleamed gold in the candlelight.

It was a ring. Jin bent over it. “Is it expensive?”

“I don’t care,” she chuckled. “It’s his. And now it’s mine. Do you know why?”

Jin shook his head dumbly.

“We got married,” Mishil smiled at him, her eyes brimming with joy. “He’s going to come and get me out of here, he just needs to tell his parents first. You can come with us, Jin! He says he’ll help you find work, and we’ll have a home together, just like I promised you!”

The thought was almost overwhelming for Jin, who’d known the same routine all his life, knew every crack in the walls and creak in the floorboards, knew every angry tick in Mistress Khang’s face, how Master Cho liked his eggs cooked and what to say to get Master Lee to forgive his misdemeanours. It was almost like a dream, and when he returned to his dorm and slid into bed beside six year old Tae, he felt like he was floating on a thin cloud that he could fall through at any moment.

He lay awake all that night, wondering if he could persuade Mishil, and her husband, her husband to bring Yoongi, Hobi, Joon and the two little ones along with them. It seemed too much to ask. Surely they wouldn’t be able to afford it. Jin was lucky that Mishil wanted to give him the chance at all. But he didn’t know if he could leave the others.

In the end, there was no decision for him to make.

“He wasn’t there today,” Mishil confided in a frown, only two weeks after telling Jin her secret. “He’s told his parents. All he had left to do was secure lodgings.”

And on the third week, Jin didn’t even have to ask.

Mishil still doggedly went to the market every week, even though Jin begged her to let one of the other girls go instead, to stop putting herself through the pain.

A month after that, she had another secret for Jin.

“I think I’m pregnant.”

This secret couldn’t stay a secret for ever. The younger girls were exited, the older ones disapproving. The Mistress and Masters were shocked. Jin supposed this was a first for the orphanage.

“But where did the baby come from?” Tae asked curiously while Jin combed his hair one morning.

Jin was a little hazy on the details of how it worked himself. “The daddy put the baby inside her,” he said.

“But where is the daddy?” Jimin’s head popped up.

Jin shrugged. “We don’t know.”

“And when will the baby come out from her belly?”

“When you’re seven.”

Jimin screwed up his face. “But that’s forever!”

Jin laughed, stroking his hair. “We’ll just have to be patient.”

For her part, Mishil took it all bravely. The shame, the abandonment, the swelling and the aches.

“He might have died,” she shrugged off-handedly when Jin asked once. “I can’t hate him if I don’t know.”

The birth was the most horrific thing Jin had witnessed in his life. The Masters and Mistress wanted nothing to do with it, and were not going to pay for a doctor.

There was just one girl older than Mishil in the orphanage who had expressed her deep disgust at the pregnancy. Jin had often suggested that Mishil tell her about the secret marriage, but Mishil didn’t seem to care what her elder thought. An hour in to the labour, when Mishil started screaming, the older girl sighed and reluctantly climbed down from her bunk to help.

Jin hadn’t had the faintest idea what to do. Fortunately Mishil seemed to. She crushed his fingers in her hand, her breathing deep, her face ugly and contorted, sweat pouring down her brow. Each groan and whimper that came out of her mouth made Jin want to cry. He sent the younger girls for boiling water and for all the fresh clean towels in the linen closet knowing he’d get a hiding for it later.

Jungkook arrived seven hours into the night. Jin watched in abject horror as he saw the top of head sticking out of a place he should never be looking at, and then gasped as a whole tiny body slipped right out of Mishil, along with it more blood, gunk and gore than Jin had ever seen.

Jin and the other girl caught the baby in one of the towels. He stared at it. It was pale purple, caked in a film of slime, but unmistakably human.

“Here,” Mishil breathed, her voice hoarse.

The baby was still attached to her by a white blue gooey cord which made Jin’s stomach lurch. He hastened to lift the baby up onto Mishil’s front. Mishil rubbed her hands on it, and it began to cry, tiny raspy insistent noises.

It wasn’t the end of the night. Mishil wept and guided the baby’s face to her breast. Jin had seen so much already that he didn’t even flinch at this. A great bloodied lump of flesh followed the baby about twenty minutes later. None of them knew what it was, but with it came the other end of the cord. They’d had to wipe the baby clean, Jin had boiled a shoelace and then knotted it around the cord near the baby’s belly at Mishil’s bidding. A woman at the market had told her that they would have to cut it. Jin sawed across the cord with a boiled knife, terrified that he was hurting the baby. They kept it wrapped up warm and clean, then they tried to clean up all the blood from Mishil as much as they could. Jin barely had time to look at the baby.

The next day everyone aside from the new mother were expected to work as usual. It was the most exhausting day of Jin’s life, worn to the bone, head reeling from lack of sleep. Yoongi, Hobi, Namjoon and even the little ones did everything they could to relieve him of his duties through the day. Then the Masters and Mistress found out that he’d snuck into the girl’s dorm to help with the birth and that he was responsible for their clean cotton towels being destroyed.

Jin remembered the moment he’d dragged himself upstairs, his back on fire, his shirt rubbing against it like grit, and pausing in the hallway hesitantly before making a detour into Mishil’s dorm.

The girls were all gathered round her bed, but at Mishil’s request they scattered aside and let Jin through.

“I’m like the queen now,” Mishil joked, her voice still thin and her skin still pale. “Do you want to see him?”

She’d named the baby Jungkook. Jin had no idea a person could be so small, but he was clearly a person, with fingernails and eyelashes and little lines on his lips. He wore a little cap that Mishil had been sewing for him during her pregnancy, and he was wrapped up in one of the towels, sound asleep, tucked into her side.

Jin thought he was the most perfect thing he’d ever seen. He said as much to Mishil, and she chuckled. “I told you that there were all kinds of love. This is the best one. The very best.”

Later, Jin realised how true her words were.

Then Jungkook stirred, almost startling the bone-tired Jin, and his dark eyes peeked open. Jin thought he could see galaxies in them.

“Do you want to hold him?” Mishil asked.

Jin nodded dumbly.

Jungkook was heavier that he expected, his little fingers and toes curling in their makeshift blanket. He yawned as Jin cradled him and closed his eyes again.

Jin came to visit Mishil and Jungkook as many times a day as he could. It quickly became clear that while Jungkook was growing stronger every day, Mishil was becoming weaker.

“I’m dying,” Mishil told him matter-of-factly one day, about two and a half weeks after the birth. “I can feel it.”

She was barely able to get out of bed, using a chamber pot instead of the bathroom. She still bled a lot each day, and Jin wondered if that was normal. Jungkook fed hungrily, and it was almost as if he was drinking the life from her.

“You’ll get better,” Jin said, cautiously.

She smiled wanly. “That would be really nice. But I’ve already had two miracles in my life, I don’t think I’m going to get a third. Listen, Jin. I need you to take care of him.”

“Of course I will!” Jin nodded hurriedly, hardly believing that there could be a world that Mishil didn’t exist in.

“I mean it,” she said, grabbing his arm in a show of strength that was more like the old Mishil. “If you look after him I’ll watch you from heaven and do everything I can to help you and bless you. If you don’t I swear I’ll haunt you for the rest of your life, right to the grave. I need you to swear, Jin.”

“I swear.” He said fervently.

She smiled at him. “I believe you.”

She was dead just one day into the third week.

Jin was awoken by noise outside in the corridor, and when he eased himself away from Tae without waking him and padded across the room, he realised it was the sound of muffled crying.

He drew the door back. The girls in Mishil’s dorm were shivering and shuffling past in their white nightdresses, heading to the other girls’ dorm. Their faces were swollen and red, and Jin knew.

Without thinking he rushed into Mishil’s dorm.

Master Lee, Master Cho and Mistress Khang were already there dressed in night robes and slippers, evidently awakened by one of the girls. Mistress Khang’s hair was askew and she looked like the nightmare creature the older boys used to tell Jin about.

“Seokjin-” Master Cho started, but in that moment Jin had no fear of them.

There was a sheet over Mishil’s body and he sprang over and tugged it down.

He’d never seen a dead person up close, but perhaps, like love, you just knew.

Jungkook was curled into her side, asleep, his chest moving up and down. Jin fell to his knees and ran shaky fingers over his little head, trying to make sense of what he was seeing and how much the world had just changed.

The adults chose to ignore him in favour of resuming their conversation.

“We’ll send for the undertaker at dawn, the sooner the better.”

“What a waste of good linen, but at least the little whore looks respectable now.”

“She’s paid for it with her life. We should be merciful.”

“What about the baby? Its too young to survive.”

“Best to snuff it out now, I could do it with a pillow.”

“You can’t do that! That’s immoral!”

“And let it suffer and starve instead? No, quicker is best. Let it be with its mamma.”

“The undertaker might be able to tell. Better to dump it in a gutter somewhere and let God decide. Perhaps a nursing mother will see it.”

“Yes, that sounds like a better plan. Give the little thing a fighting chan- Seokjin! What do you think you’re doing?”

Jin already had Jungkook in his arms, and was backing off toward the door, his head shaking frantically. “I won’t let you hurt him!” He shrieked, undoubtedly waking the rest of the children sleeping upstairs, and certainly waking Jungkook, who began to cry.

“It’s going to die anyway, Jin.” Mster Lee said gently. “There’s no use getting worked up.”

“He’s not going to die!” Jin insisted. “Let me keep him in our dorm. You don’t have to do anything for him. Just don’t hurt him.”

Mistress Khang took an angry step towards him, and Jin took one back, Jungkook’s bleating cries ringing in his ears, one shaking hand reaching behind him for the door post. If they came for him, he was going to run.

Master Lee placed a hand on Mistress Khang’s shoulder. “Let me speak to Jin. I’m sure we can come to some sort of reasonable arrangement.”

Mistress Khang and Master Cho were only too glad to go back to bed.

Jin bounced Jungkook gently, hoping to lull the baby back to sleep, as Master Lee crossed and slowly pulled the sheet back over Mishil’s head.

“She was your friend, wasn’t she,” Master Lee said. “I’m sorry.”

Jin had noticed that ever since he turned fourteen, Master Lee had become much kinder to him. Moon always mocked and jeered and called Jin the favourite. Jin was grateful for Master Lee’s compassion, and now he was even more grateful.

“Thank you, sir, I promise I’ll-”

“Jin.” Master Lee said, his hands placating. “Come and sit down, by me.” He sat down on the lower bunk of the other bed. Reluctantly Jin followed, praying that it wasn’t a trap and that Jungkook wouldn’t get ripped from his arms.

Master Lee placed a hand on Jin’s leg, and rubbed soothingly. “I can persuade them to let them keep the baby.”

“Tha-”

“But,” Master Lee injected a little warning into his tone to stop Jin interrupting. “You’ll have to do something for me first. Something to really make it worth my while.”

As he explained, Jin was first confused, second repulsed and third desperate. He pleaded. Master Lee was immoveable. “It’s entirely your choice, Jin,” he said. “I need you to understand that taking care of a baby is a very grown-up thing to do, with lots of responsibility. If you’re going to do that, then you need to be able to do other grown-up things. You have to make some very grown-up decisions.”

Jin made a grown-up decision that day that couldn’t have made him feel more belittled, frightened and childlike.

But he had Jungkook. It was a struggle at first, because Jungkook was all feelings: first hungry, then sleepy, then uncomfortable, then messy. Jin’s dorm sacrificed their necessities to make enough wet nurse money. Jin could have wept at their generosity. When Jungkook began to smile at him, Jin felt his heart soar. As he grew, he interacted with all of them, wide-eyed and happy and blissfully innocent. It warmed Jin’s heart to see Jungkook’s joy reflected in the other’s expressions. When the baby was old enough to drink water and then cows milk and mushy foods, the burden truly lifted.

Now, a year and a half after his birth, Jungkook was Jin’s baby, and Jin couldn’t imagine life without him.

He kept Mishil’s wedding ring and a lock of her hair hidden in their dorm. When Jungkook was older he would give them to him, and tell him about his mother and all her dreams.

Of course, he’d always known he would have to leave at eighteen. It was a rite of passage for all children in the orphanage, sent off into the world to carve their place in it or be destroyed by it. Jin had always imagined that by the time he was eighteen, he would be a man, and would just know what to do.

He and Yoongi had discussed it before. “I’ll be sixteen,” Yoongi had reasoned. “If you can find work, then we only have to wait a few months for you to start earning, then we can all live with you. Joon and Hobi will be fifteen, so they’ll be able to find work with me. Between us we can look after the little ones. In the meantime, if you get Sundays off you can see us at church each week, and I’ll try to take Jungkook to see you when I go to the market each week too.”

At the time, eighteen had seemed far off, and Jin had assumed he’d be able to deal with it.

“But you’re only about to turn sixteen!” Hobi said the moment Jin began to relate what Master Lee had said.

“He changed the rules,” Jin said miserably. “It’s not because he wants me to leave. It’s…”

He could just about see the three faces in the darkness, solemn in their little circle.

“You can trust us,” Namjoon said softly.

“I know,” Jin said. “To make you understand, I need to tell you what happened when Mishil died. What he did.”

“What Master Lee did?” Yoongi scrunched up his nose.

Jin told them. Once he’d started it all tumbled out of him, his voice at first shaky, then strong. He saw in their gazes when he had felt that day: the shock, the disgust, the confusion.

Namjoon began to cry softly. Hobi reached out and took Jin’s hand. Yoongi swore under his breath, over and over, but not so loud as to wake up the kids.

“So he wants you to stay like his wife?” Hobi whispered, aghast.

Jin shrugged, unsure if he was relieved to have told them. “Basically.”

“He can’t do that,” Namjoon sniffled, and nudged himself closer to Jin. “We won’t let him hurt you ever again.”

“We might not have a choice,” Jin explained patiently. “He’ll threaten Jungkook. And I’m never going to find work out there if I have a baby with me. Plus, imagine how he might treat each of you in revenge if I go.”

“We’re strong,” Namjoon said, and Hobi nodded fervently.

“And besides that, I don’t think I could bear to leave you all,” Jin said, reaching out to stroke Namjoon’s hair. “Everything I love and care about is in this room.”

“Then don’t leave us.” Yoongi said.

“But Yoon, we can’t let Master Lee-” Hobi began.

“Master Lee deserves to burn in hell,” Yoongi said with a certainty that almost make Jin quake. “If Master Lee so much as touches Jin, I’ll kill him myself. No, there’s only one thing we can do, there’s only one other option.”

“Which is what?” Jin frowned, puzzled.

“We have a deadline,” Yoongi pointed out, looking at each face in turn. “Jin will be sixteen in a few days. Before that, we need to leave. Escape all together, all seven of us. Go somewhere that they’ll never find us. It’s the only way.”

Jin inhaled.

It’s the only way.

Chapter Text

Breakfast was at 4:30am the next morning. Jin was dubious about the wisdom of this, but if there was ever a day they had to get three square meals inside them then this was it.

“What are you doing?” Tae asked through a mouthful of omelette.

Hobi paused guiltily from where he was on his knees, head in the lower cupboard.

“He’s just checking something, brat,” Jin said affectionately. “Look, Kookie’s trying to give you some breakfast!”

Jungkook had recently discovered that he could return favours. If you left your mouth open for long enough, Jungkook was likely to pop something in. That might be toddler-scrunched food if it was breakfast time, or if you were more unfortunate it might be his soothing rag or a clod of earth or anything that came to hand. Namjoon tended to get caught out the most, his jaw dropping slightly when he got engrossed in a book. Tae, however, loved the game of being fed by the one year old and turned immediately, forgetting his question and baring his open mouth. “Aaaaah!”

Jungkook, who had been enjoying his own breakfast, immediately recognised his cue and snatched a handful of egg up, leaning over to press it into Tae’s mouth. Half of it missed, but Tae said “thank you, Kookie!” and Jungkook giggled in delight, and the moment had passed.

They’d chosen not to tell the kids, not till the very last minute. It was a decision they’d debated back and forth. They knew that Tae and Jimin could keep a secret, but this one was so huge, so enormous, that the teenagers agreed it would bleed into the younger ones’ facial expressions, in their jaunt and in the way they spoke. There was also the risk that they might say something privately in front of Jungkook, who was at a stage where he was liable to repeat just about anything, sometimes with unexpected timing. No, the operation of gathering their inventory was entirely on the shoulders of the Hyungs.

Namjoon had drawn up a list of their possessions last night, his eyes straining under the scanty light from the thin window. When they’d started to include items outwith their dorm, Hobi’s face had screwed up. “Isn’t that stealing?”

Sometimes Jin had done too well when it came to instilling moral values in the kids.

“Look at it this way,” Yoongi said. “Every Winter Solstice, what happens?”

“The families come and visit from town…” Hobi said, uncertain.

“And what do they bring?”

“They bring us gifts. Toys and things.”

“And do we get to keep all those things that are specifically for us?”

“No,” Hobi said, beginning to understand.

“Imagine how much those things cost,” Yoongi said. “Do you think we’d really be leaving with more than The Mistress and Masters have taken from us? Everything in this building has been paid for by charity or by our own work. Do you get it?”

Hobi nodded fervently, chastised. Jin slipped an arm around his shoulders, drawing him in. “It was a good question, Hobi.”

“We have to be careful, though,” Namjoon pointed out, from where he stood at the bunkbed, the pale light catching the top of his hair. “The girls will be on kitchen cleaning tomorrow. They’ll notice if too many things go missing.”

The others agreed. Yoongi would be sent to the market, so they counted up all the dolls they’d sewn over the past week and wrapped them together into one package. Then they calculated what they could afford to purchase if Yoongi sold out. Jin was most worried about the cold. None of the children had hats or scarves. Yoongi pointed out that they were going to need bags to carry their possessions. Namjoon suggested a waterproof tarp in case it should rain while they were travelling. Hobi wondered if they should get some canteens to carry water. Before they knew it, the shopping list was longer than the list of possessions, and Namjoon dutifully went back through and began scoring off items that they could hope to purchase later.

“Jimin and Tae will be on shoe shine duty near the front door,” Jin observed. “You could slip some things to them to hide upstairs when you get back. They won’t question it.”

“And we’re going tomorrow night? Definitely?” Namjoon asked, his face taut with either fear or excitement.

Jin nodded. “We don’t want to risk hoarding so many things only to get caught.”

Plus, now that they had decided, he could feel his skin itching to get as far away from Master Lee as possible.

“They’re having a party tonight,” Yoongi added. “I heard them talking about it when the soup was being ladled out at lunch. They’ll be hungover during the day and should sleep heavily tomorrow night.”

“What about laundry?” Namjoon noted. “The other girls’ dorm will be doing that tomorrow. If we give them any clothes we won’t get them back in time.”

“So we don’t give them any clothes and we make it sound like we’re doing them a favour,” Yoongi dismissed. “Tell them Master Cho basically washed our clothes already. It’ll be fine.”

Jin hoped it would be fine. There were so many things that could go wrong, so many ways in which the other children could catch them out. The Mistress and Masters might be in terrible moods after drinking too hard and sleeping too little, and be alert for reasons to punish them. If they were caught, he decided, he would have to sacrifice himself, beg Master Lee to spare the others and in turn do anything he wanted. The thought made him shudder.

“It’s getting cold, we should go to bed,” Yoongi said, misinterpreting this.

“But there’s two more things,” Hobi said. “How are we getting out, and where are we going?”

Those were the hardest questions of all, and Jin was still running over them at the breakfast table the next morning, which Hobi and Namjoon scavenged for items on the list.

Jungkook had cried this morning when Jin began to wash him down, and Jin had belatedly realised that the baby was remembering the shock soaking they’d all had yesterday. He’d had to finish abruptly and dry the little one thoroughly, pressing kisses all over his forehead.

“No bath, Din!” Jungkook said, clearly offended that Jin had forgotten.

“Sorry, sweetheart,” Jin had said, all too grateful when Namjoon showed up to draw Jungkook’s attention and walk him out. He’d stared at himself in the mirror a little longer today, looking at the face of someone who was about to drag six children from one world of problems into another and wondered if he was noble or selfish, brave or foolish.

His head was still reeling, even as he began work on the Mistress and Masters’ breakfasts and his little family worked as a unit to dispose of the evidence of their own meals. Whether they used the front door or back they had to get a key. If they went out the front they would have to successfully dismantle the chimes which were set up as a burglar alarm. They’d also have to avoid the policeman on his local beat and slip through the streets unnoticed. If they went out the back door they’d have to scale the apple trees with Jungkook and all their luggage, and climb over the tall walls escaping over the back fields. Either option had its own pitfalls.

They were put to work promptly in the morning, As expected, Yoongi was sent to market, and Tae and Jimin were assigned the shoeshine. Jin, Namjoon and Hobi however, had the more demanding work of clearing up after the party.

The Mistress and Masters seemed to take extra pleasure in being liberal with money at the orphans’ expense. Their quarters were infinitely more luxurious. The orphans didn’t get access unless it was for cleaning and if they lingered for too long, perhaps to admire an ornament, they’d receive a hiding. When Moon was younger he’d once fallen asleep on Master Cho’s bed. Jin always figured that the beating he’d received that day was what had made him so eager to pick fights now.

Fortunately, Moon and Young-gi’s dorm were assigned to tidy other rooms. Unfortunately, Jin’s assignment was a room which was littered with broken glass. He clutched Jungkook tighter and took a few swipes at the velvet sofa with a cushion, scattering the mess onto the floor. It wasn’t ideal, but he settled Jungkook into the nook of one corner and placed Mr Pot Belly on his lap.

“Can you and Mr Pot Belly sit nice and still while Jin and Joon and Hobi clean up this big mess?”

Jungkook wasn’t supposed to be on the sofa, but they were in the drawing room rather than someone’s personal chambers, so Jin hoped it was okay. It was infinitely better than the baby bleeding all over the carpet from the glass shrapnel.

Jungkook was quite used to having to sit still and sent Jin a beaming smile.

Jin grinned back, and they quickly got to work. The room reeked of alcohol. One of the guests, a huge bulbous fellow who really should have been competing with Jungkook’s toy for its title, was lying flat out on the opposite sofa, one arm hanging limp on the carpet, snoring profusely. He was well-dressed, a waist-coat and red and gold slippers, but his double chin was covered in stubble and the buttons of his shirt had been loosened to reveal a bush of chest hair. He stank of sweat. Jin swept up the glass nearest him to save Joon and Hobi.

It proved to be a mistake, because after a while, the fellow stirred. Jin had got used to their near-motionless companion and started in surprise. The man groaned and belched loudly, his eyes slipping open. He stared at Jin.

“Good morning, sir,” Jin said politely, quickly withdrawing his gaze and making to move away.

Quick as a snake the man’s arm shot out, seizing Jin by the wrist. “Is it this one, Lee?”

“Sir,” Jin twisted his wrist uncomfortably, trying to politely extract it. The man used his grip to leverage himself up into a seating position, blinking out at Jungkook. “You’re too young,” he commented, then frowned over at Namjoon and Hobi who had paused their work, alarmed. “Not you two either. It must be this one, Lee, is it this one? LEE?”

His shout brought Master Lee to the doorway. “Yes, it’s him.” Master Lee said crossly. “Now let him go. You’re still drunk and you’ll bruise his wrist.”

“He’s pretty.” The party guest nodded, looking Jin up and down in a way that made Jin’s skin crawl. Then, thankfully, he sank back against his seat and appeared to nod off again.

“Just clean around him,” Master Lee ordered the boys, curling his lip in distaste. His gaze softened when he caught Jin’s expression. “Oh, he’s harmless, Jin. Just a blustery fool. Come and see me before lunch, huh?”

Jin nodded, aware of Namjoon and Hobi’s eyes on them and praying they were hiding their feelings.

It was his best chance at getting a key, he realised, as they finished setting the drawing room straight. There were three copies of each key, one for each manager of the orphanage. None of the children knew exactly where they were kept. If he could time it right, he might be able to spy on Master Cho and Mistress Khang’s rooms and if one was vacant, slip in and find a key. Taking Master Lee’s keys would be no good because he was the one who checked everything was locked up at night.

He left Jungkook with Hobi and Namjoon and made his way across to the managers’ quarters. He could feel his gut churning. They needed the key to get away from Master Lee. He needed to visit Master Lee to get the key. It was ironic in the worst way.

His eyes lit up to see Master Cho’s door slightly ajar. He listened carefully outside for a few pauses. Satisfied at the silence, he took a deep breath and reached for the handle-

“There you are Jin.” Master Lee’s door opened suddenly, and Jin jerked. “Oh, I forgot which room is yours, sir,” he played dumb.

“You’ve been in here once or twice before,” Master Lee reprimanded gently, seeming to believe him. “Come on in, have a look.”

Jin could feel his hands becoming clammy. He tore himself away from Master Cho’s door and the perfect opportunity.

Master Lee shut his own door behind them.

His room was like a king’s palace compared to Jin’s dorm. There was a carpet so thick you could rub your feet in it, a double bed with silk sheets and plumped up pillows. There was a huge dresser with a crystal clear ornate mirror and a mahogany writing desk, and a cupboard burgeoning with warm clothes. There was enough space to fit all of the orphans in this one room. A bay window looked down onto the street, letting plenty of light into the room. Even the wallpaper was lavish.

“Do you like it?” Master Lee said softly, coming up behind Jin as he gazed around.

Jin swallowed. “It’s a grand room, sir.”

The heat of Master Lee’s chuckle was slick in Jin’s ear. “I’m sure it looks that way to you. Do you think you could be happy in a room like this, Jin?”

Jin thought he could be happy in their tiny cold dorm a hundred times over before he could be happy here.

“I can’t imagine how anyone could be unhappy with this room,” he said neutrally.

“You haven’t made your mind up, yet, have you?” Master Lee frowned, turning Jin to face him with hands on his shoulders. “I didn’t expect so much indecision.”
“It’s…it’s been a lot to take in,” Jin hoped that the sincerity of this rang out. He could feel his insides quaking. “But I can’t leave the children, and the way you’ve protected Jungkook-”

“And of course, I’ll continue to do so,” Master Lee smiled, satisfied.

“It’s such a big change,” Jin added. “I just need another day, but already…I think I’m convinced there’s only one choice.”

Master Lee’s smile stretched, and up came that hand again, fleshy fingers stroking Jin’s cheek. Jin did everything in his power not to flinch.

“I’ll hold you to that,” Master Lee whispered, his breath in Jin’s mouth, grip on Jin’s shoulders tightening. Then his features were suddenly too close and Jin knew that to keep the subterfuge, to keep their plan-

There was a high pitched scream from outside the corridor.

Master Lee swore, letting go. “Who on earth?….Sorry, Jin. One moment.”

He hurried from the room, his ill-temper from the interruption showing on his face. Jin heaved in a gulp of air and rushed across to Master Cho’s room with near-abandon. He scrabbled frantically in the writing desk and the chest of drawers, almost despairing before he noticed that there a clay pot on the beside table. He snatched the first key he found there and sprang out of the room, half expecting Master Lee or Master Cho to be standing there. The corridor was empty.

Jin checked the time. Lunch time. He hid the key quickly, and hurried to get as far away from the opulent rooms as possible.

Lunch was unpleasant because Master Lee was mad as hell at whoever had got him running all over the building chasing a scream. Particularly because he didn’t know who the culprit was. When Mistress Khang suggested that all the children be given half portions as punishment he relented, after seeing Jin’s face sink. If only he knew that Jin was trying to make sure the kids were all well fed by tonight.

The key burned a hole in his pocket. He nodded to Yoongi, Joon and Hobi to let them know he had it and watched them visibly react.

“We saved you,” Tae informed him in an undertone, looking unusually serious as he poked at his scoop of mash and beans.

“That was you?!” Jin didn’t know whether to be proud or angry. “That was such a big risk! How did you know where I was?”

“Joon told us,” Jimin intoned, also looking grave.

“But why did you think I needed help?” Surely the older ones hadn’t told them?

“Jungkook said, ‘no Lee’ yesterday. And you were crying. We’re not stupid, we know he‘s hurting you.” Jimin grumbled.

“No you’re not stupid at all,” Jin tried to hug him, but Jimin huffed his shoulders and slid slightly up the bench, so Jin had to settle for a pat on the back. “Thank you,” he added, perplexed at why his sunny eight-year olds were so morose.

“They noticed I’d come back with more items from market,” Yoongi told Jin during the torrid afternoon’s work cleaning the gutters, “and I think they can tell we’ve got a secret.”

They weren’t able to speak freely together till they were gathered together in their dorm for the evening. Jin had successfully evaded Master Lee for the rest of the day, but his triumphant feeling faded when he saw Jimin and Tae’s faces.

“You’re hiding something,” Jimin accused Jin.

“It’s good to know I’m so transparent,” Jin chuckled, but was met with stony stares. “Yes, I was hiding something. I got the back door key from Master Cho’s room. We’re going to leave the orphanage tonight, that’s why Yoongi got extra supplies. It was all thanks to you two-”

“You’re all going to leave us?” Tae’s stern face finally crumbled as his eyes filled up.

“No!” Jin gasped, gathering Tae to him. “No of course not, you’re coming with us, we just hadn’t told you about it yet!”

Tae and Jimin shared a glance, their faces etched in worry and disbelief.

“See,” Namjoon intervened, digging into his pocket and brandished last night’s list. “Here are the things for you both, with your names written. And Yoongi has them here.”

Jimin leaned forward to see, eyes narrowed. He finally nodded in acknowledgment and Jin cast Namjoon a grateful look.

“So you just didn’t trust us with the secret?” Jimin concluded.

“That was wrong of me,” Jin admitted, reaching out for Jimin too. “It’s Hyung’s fault. I was worried you would get too excited.”

“And Kookie, you won’t leave Kookie?” Tae asked anxiously.

Jin pressed his forehead to Tae’s head as Jimin finally curled in for a hug too. “We’re all staying together. All seven of us against the world. We can’t have it any other way.”

“Okay, good.” Jimin said, satisfied. He clung on a little tighter than he ever had before.

Jin was surprised when the eight-year olds amiably got into bed at six. “Don’t forget to wake us up,” Tae ordered, wagging a finger.

“I won’t forget,” Jin assured them.

Tae and Jimin curled up together and judging by their breathing were asleep in minutes.

“Why are they so relaxed?” Hobi groaned.

Jin shrugged, still feeling guilty for the earlier misunderstanding. “I don’t think they care where they go, as long as they’re with us.”

“Well I agree with them but my stomach’s in knots.” Namjoon paced up and down.

“Lie down and try to get some sleep,” Jin advised. He knew he couldn’t.

Neither could Yoongi. They had everything packed, the clothes laid out, and the waiting game began.

They sat in silence, backs against the wall, listening to the younger ones breathe, and hearing the faint sounds from the other dorms gradually reduce and fade as each went to sleep.

Jin’s pocket watch was ticking loudly, and he took it out to examine it. It was the only thing of any real worth that belonged to him personally. When the oldest boy in their dorm had turned eighteen and left at the start of the year, he had surprised Jin by pulling him aside as he’d finished putting together the small bundle of items he owned. There wasn’t much love lost between the two of them; the younger children clearly viewed Jin as their leader rather than their oldest dorm-mate and to increase the gulf he’d also been pretty intolerant of Jungkook.

So Jin was surprised to see the pocket watch being pressed into his hand. He blinked down at it, and then back up at his elder. “But it’s yours!”

The older shrugged. “I was going to keep it. Could have used it out there. But I remember when Hyeon gave it to me.”

Hyeon was a few months older again, he’d left not long after Jungkook was born.

“And he said his hyung gave it to him before,” Jin’s elder said. Jin stared down at the pocket watch. Now that he thought about it, he had seen it in different hands over the years.

“They say that one of the very first orphans to come here had it. It’s been passed on and on for years and years, still working. Sometimes when you’re stuck in here it helps you remember that that there’s still a world out there, that time really is passing.” It was the longest and certainly the deepest conversation they’d ever had, and Jin’s elder seemed to recognise it too, because he shrugged again and gathered up his things.

“So long, Jin.”

Jin had been so dumbfounded that he’d barely been able to summon a reply. In the last few months the watch had proved invaluable. It had brought structure to their day. It helped Jin gauge how long he had to feed the kids and get them away before the Mistress and Masters came. Tonight, it would tell them exactly when 9:30pm struck, so that they could safely assume the Mistress and Masters were in bed and head out. And felt good to own something that wasn’t just old clothes. Jin wound the watch up carefully each day, kept it polished, marvelled at the intricacies of the design on the outer edges, regularly took it out to feel the vibrations against his thumb. It was the only thing he’d never let Jungkook play with.

He took it out now, and he and Yoongi watched its face, listening to the tick that seemed to ring out louder in the hushed silence. Jin could feel his heart ticking along with it. Waiting, waiting, waiting.

As 9:30pm drew closer they both grew more restless, shuffling their feet, tapping out tuneless beats on their legs.

And then it was 9:30pm. Jin thought he was going to be sick.

“Okay?” Yoongi whispered.

“Okay.” Jin said.

They got to their feet slowly. Yoongi crossed to Joon and Hobi and gently shook them awake. Jin moved to Jungkook, who he’d put to bed still dressed, gently stroking his face and whispering in his ear, hoping to wake him without fuss.

Jungkook’s eyes peeped open. “Morning Din?”

Jin chuckled softly. “Not quite, baby. Can you get up for me like a big boy?”

Meanwhile, Jimin’s head appeared, “are we going now?!”

“Yes, shhh!” Yoongi reprimanded, starting to roll up the bedclothes as Joon and Hobi navigated a sleepy Tae down the ladder.

It was touch and go whether Jungkook would be cranky or peaceful. Jin sat him up and Jungkook pushed his fists into his eyes.

They’d decided since Hobi was the most athletic, he would take Jungkook. He reached out for the baby now.

“Clothes first.” Jin whispered. Hobi hurried to bring them over.

By some miracle, Jungkook seemed too tired to argue as they slipped mittens onto his hands, and his new woollen hat onto his head. It was a little big, and Jin tugged it down to cover his ears. Jungkook didn’t have a coat, and that would have been too much of an expense, but Jin tugged him into Tae’s Sunday jumper and hoped that would do.

“Hot,” Jungkook frowned, picking at his outfit haplessly.

“Can you be a good boy for Jin today?” Jin said, searching out Jungkook’s doe eyes in the minimal light so show he was serious. “We need to be very, very quiet. Do you understand?”

“Shhh!” Jimin came up to Jungkook and put his finger to his lips. “Like this, Kookie.”

“Shhhh!” Jungkook repeated, equally noisily and let out a giggle. Jin swallowed his fear down. “Thanks, Jimin. Get your scarf on. Okay, baby, you’re going to give Hobi some cuddles.”

Hobi bent down and Jin placed Jungkook on his back, yanking their bed sheet off from the thin mattress and folding it in half. Hands trembling, he wrapped the centre of the sheet around Jungkook’s back, and while Hobi held the one year old in place, Jin slid both ends under Hobi’s arms, then back round Jungkook, packaging the two of them together, creating what he hoped was a secure seat for the baby.

“How does it feel?” He whispered to Hobi.

Hobi did an experimental jig. “I think its okay.”

“Din…” Jungkook was definitely working up to a complaint.

“Good boy!” Jin cooed, rubbing the back of Jungkook’s neck. “Give Hobi a big cuddle and go back to sleep.”

Jungkook pouted, but flopped his head between Hobi’s shoulder blades, eyes drooping. With any luck he’d be out again.

Jin quickly tugged his Sunday jumper over his head. He was loath to use his best clothes like this, but it was the warmest garment he owned. He grabbed his bundle, watching Yoongi pack away the rest of their thin blankets. Tae and Jimin were practically dancing in anticipation. Namjoon looked slightly sick.

They were ready. Jin cast one more look around the room he’d lived in all his life. If this went well he’d never see it again. If it went badly he’d probably never see it again either.

“Okay, stay close,” he said. “You know which bits of the stairs are most creaky. Try to avoid those. Yoongi, you have the key? You go first. Then Tae and Jimin. Then Namjoon. Then Hobi. Everyone okay?”

“Hot..” Jungkook moaned softly, sounding drowsy.

Jin grimaced. Not for long.

“Let’s go.” He said.

They made an odd procession as they padded down the corridor. The hallway was bathed in darkness, the banisters on the stairs fuzzy, even the slightest shuffle of the clothes or minor creak amplified into a huge echo. Jin could barely breathe each time one of them made a noise.

The bottom of the stairs led to the corridor which passed the kitchen and the classroom then reached the back door. As Yoongi passed the kitchen, he halted suddenly. From the back of the procession, Jin frowned, thinking that Yoongi had decided to go back for one more item. He saw the others halt in turn, like dominos. Yoongi turned and looked up at Jin. It was hard to make out his face in the dark, but he was clearly pointing in the direction of the kitchen.

Jin strained. He couldn’t hear anything from here. If someone was awake, Yoongi must be hearing them distantly. The thought still struck terror into him nevertheless. Mistress Khang’s room looked out onto the gardens, and if she were awake and moving around there was always a chance...

They had to keep going. He nodded at Yoongi, who picked up the pace and strode towards the back door. As the others began to follow, filtering one after the other, Jin heard a noise of his own. One much closer. Someone from the dorms had got up to use the bathroom.

It was then that he realised with a sinking feeling that he hadn’t closed their dorm door behind him. The door that was exactly opposite the bathroom.

There was another noise, and Jin felt his heart begin to buck in his chest. He glanced back at Yoongi, Yoongi was slipping the key gently into the lock.

Then, like something out of a horror story, Jin saw a shadow at the top of the stairs, hurrying down the first couple and then staring at them, agape.

Moon.

Moon blinked at them. Yoongi was frozen, the back door just ajar. “You’re leaving?” Moon whispered incredulously. “You’re all leaving?”

Jin gulped. “Please, Moon, please…”

A slither of light from the nearby window caught Moon’s eyes, glittering like his namesake. He stared at Jin in bewilderment and inhaled a breath, and Jin knew it was all over.

Then there was a noise, a much clearer noise coming from beyond the kitchen where the Mistress and Masters’ quarters were. “Damn key..” Master Cho. He didn’t sound overly concerned, but he was clearly coming closer. He’d realised it was missing. He thought he’d mislaid it or left in the door.

They were never going to get up the stairs quickly and quietly enough to avoid detection. There was no going back.

“Go!” Jin hissed, waving at Yoongi frantically, turning back to Moon. Please. Please.

“I’ll distract him,” Moon said suddenly, the words alien and jarring in Jin’s head, as he glanced back to see Yoongi and then Tae and Jimin sprint out onto the path, Namjoon about to cross the threshold.

His head shot back round and he and Moon stared at each other for a moment. Jin realised then how young Moon truly was. How young they both were.

He nodded, turning back to see Hobi and Jungkook following after Namjoon. He took his first step in their direction, then turned, fumbling, hearing Master Cho plod closer, a dim light appearing under the opposite door of the kitchen, getting bright and bri-

He found it.

“Catch!” He whispered as loud as he dared.

Moon reached out on instinct, and Jin saw the pocket watch land safely in his hands before he turned and fled for his life.

The back garden was navy and grey, otherworldly. The night was cold. Jin flew across the threshold, his heart jack-hammering as he waited for noise to erupt behind them.

Chapter Text

There was only one tree with branches which reached over the perimeter wall. Jin stumbled towards it in the darkness, one hand on the throat of the bundle on his shoulder, the other hand splayed out in front of him, terrified of crashing into another tree, or into one of the kids.

Hobi and Jungkook were still at the bottom of the tree. “Hey,” Hobi said breathlessly. “Yoongi’s on the wall, we’re passing the bags along. Namjoon’s on the lower branches.”

Jin heard Master Cho yell “Moon!” from inside the orphanage. He prayed they would have enough time. “Here, Joon.” He whispered, raising his bundle aloft. “Can you see me?”

“Think so,” Namjoon’s voice came from above him, “a bit to the left. Yeah, I’ve got it. “Jimin! Ready?”

Jin’s bag lifted from his hands. “Tell Yoongi to jump!” He commanded desperately. “Hobi, I’ll give you a leg up?”

They fumbled in the dark before Hoseok’s foot was in Jin’s palms and Jin was heaving the thirteen year old up as much as he could, temples shredding with the strain.

“Go!” Hoseok whispered urgently up at Namjoon. “Go, go!”

Jin was quick to swing himself up after them.

“Din?” came a hesitant voice out of the darkness.

“It’s okay baby. Quiet now.” Jin muttered, groping for handholds, his feet scraping and slipping as he hauled himself upwards. It was so much harder to do this in the dark, and his eyes weren’t adjusting as quickly as he’d like.

“Hobee?”

“Shh Kook,” Hobi said, exertion in his voice. “Sleepy time.”

Jin caught up to them before they reached the top. As leaves and twigs brushed and scraped at him, he stretched a hand out to try to shield Jungkook’s head.

“Yoongi doesn’t think you should jump with Kookie,” Namjoon hissed from the top of the wall. “He says we should lower him down. Tae hurt his leg from jumping.”

Jin cursed under his breath. Tae had probably been favouring his bandaged leg. “Move up, Namjoon,” he directed. “Hobi?”

“I’m going.” Hobi slid himself along the branch that intersected the top of the wall. Jin felt his heart in his throat, watching Jungkook’s wrap and the top of Jungkook’s head. Jungkook was clearly awake and confused, his little head dancing back and forth. From this height, the drop-

Hobi successfully clambered onto the wall, sitting himself down with a leg hanging on either side. Jin breathed out a hushed sigh of relief and hurried to come up behind him. The branch keened heavily under his weight, and he rolled himself forward, almost on his stomach, till his searching fingers met cold brick. By the time he’d hauled himself onto the wall, Namjoon and Hobi had grappled with the knots tied round the teenager’s waist, and were ready to start unwinding. Jin slid up till Jungkook was effectively in his lap and Hobi raised his arms, clenching his thighs against the sides of the wall as Namjoon and Jin quickly unravelled him. Jin hoped desperately that none of them would lose their balance. He worked with one hand, keeping the other on Jungkook, just in case.

“Are you ready?” Yoongi called up.

“Shh, Cho’s on the move,” Hobi hissed back. “Nearly.”

Jin took the loose sheet and began tying it around Jungkook, under his little legs and around his waist. “We’re going to play a game baby,” he whispered to the toddler, trying with all his might to sound cheerful. “Can you be very clever and hold on to the sheet above your head? Here, this bit, good boy! Yoongi, he’s coming!”

Suddenly, there was light. Jin froze.

Mistress Khang’s room was illuminated, and the manager herself silhouetted in the window, black and scrawny and ominous, holding a lantern. Even from the depths of the back garden, Jin saw her stare at them, heard her scream of anger. In moments she would have alerted Master Cho and Master Lee.

“Din?” Jungkook said.

“What’s going on? I don’t feel him!” Yoongi called. “What’s that light?”

Jin kicked himself back into action. “Hold tight baby,” he told Jungkook, squeezing the little mittens around the twist of sheet. “He’s coming now!”

He thrust the other end of the sheet over Hobi’s shoulder and Hobi and Namjoon clung onto it. Then Jin, dreading what he was about to do, lifted Jungkook from his lap onto the side of the wall, in mid-air.

“Pull it taut!” he hastened the other two. Feeling the give disappear, terrified, he let go, hands scrambling up for the piece of sheet above Jungkook’s hands.

“Din!” Jungkook began to cry and it was the worst feeling in the world.

“Sit nice Kookie,” Yoongi cooed, “you’re coming down to see me, here I am!”

“Here we are Kookie!” Jimin chimed in.

Jin fed the sheet through his hands, inch by inch, wanting to hurry, worried that Jungkook would let go and hit his head, terrified that the orphanage managers were about to spring out into the back garden and capture them, but also scared that if they rushed they could cause the baby more damage.

“I’ve got him!” Yoongi called up a few moments later.

Jin didn’t have time to dwell on the overwhelming feeling of relief, even as Yoongi soothed and shushed Jungkook.

“Out of the way,” he urged. “We need to move fast. Joon, shout when you’re clear.”

Namjoon went without hesitation. Jin heard the audible thud and “clear!” a moment later.

He turned to Hoseok. Hobi was already perched in position and ready to go, leaping as soon as he had Jin’s signal.

Jin cast one more glance over his shoulder as he preciously balanced himself on the wall in a crouch. More lights were coming on in the orphanage behind him. He could hear raised voices. They weren’t going to get the eight hour head start that he’d planned. They’d be lucky if they had an eight minute head start.

“Clear!” Hobi called up and Jin flung himself forward. For a moment he was weightless, plunging into the dark, the cold air whipping his face. Then with a bone jarring thud, he landed. “Tae, can you run?” He ignored the residual pain as he picked himself up.

“I can walk…” Tae sounded tearful.

“Okay, piggy back,” Jin said. “Come over here. “Yoon, you keep Kookie. Jimin, Joon, Hobi, can you gather the bags up between you? They’re coming.”

“They’re coming?” Tae sounded wide-eyed and terrified, Jin felt his hands patting his side, trying to follow his voice. He quickly guided Tae round to his back, jostling him into position. Tae’s arms crept round his neck. With some effort, Jin stood, holding Tae’s legs.

“Yes,” Jin already felt defeated, hopelessly stupid. They were going to get caught. “Stay close, everyone. Use your voices if you’re not sure if you’re with the group. Straight ahead. Go!”

He set off, suddenly aware of the uneven terrain, the boggy parts of the field, the nocks and bumps. Tae bounced a little on his back as he ran, still and clinging on. He could hear the sound of the others beside him, sometimes close, sometimes distant. He heard panting breaths and hisses of pain and the occasional thud as someone tripped.

“All here?” he called out as he reached the small stone perimeter wall which divided this field and the next.

“Here,” Yoongi, Hobi, Joon and Jimin called out, one after the other. Satisfied, Jin felt over the wall, hooking one leg over then distributing his weight to lug himself and Tae over.

“Here,” Jungkook added suddenly. Jin thought his heart would melt. “That’s my boy,” he said.

“Tae Tae?” Jungkook’s voice came again, curious.

“Here,” Tae said, his breath on the back of Jin’s neck.

“Good boy.” Jungkook was content.

They ran helter-skelter across the next field, and the next. Jin felt his body straining under Tae’s weight. He grit his teeth, unwilling to let the eight-year-old know. The next wall was higher, but Namjoon found a stile and they took it in turns to climb over it, Yoongi passing Jungkook over to Hobi before crossing himself.

Jin glanced back at the orphanage. The wall they’d jumped from obscured most of it, but the lights were still on in the building, the only lit up thing on the horizon.

“Can we take a break?” Jimin’s breath heaved after the next field.

Jin knew he needed a plan, and fast. His plan had been to walk all night and never look back. Already he could see the impracticality. They had to run if they were going to keep ahead of the managers. He was always going to be checking behind him.

Shelter, somewhere to hide. That’s what he needed. “Yoongi, can you get the tinderbox out?”

“Really?” Jin could tell in the dark that the blurred figure that was Yoongi was frowning. “Okay.”

When Yoongi lit the little candle they had bought, Jin finally got a look at his dorm members, huddled in a circle, their clothes torn and dirtied, their cheeks pink and breaths coming out in puffs. The moment Jungkook saw Jin he stretched out from Hobi with his whole body, mittens opening and closing.

“Kookie, I can’t-” Jin started.

“I’ll take Tae for a bit,” Yoongi offered.

“I can walk,” Tae insisted, sliding down Jin’s back as Jungkook propelled himself into Jin’s arms. Jin hugged him tightly. “There’s my brave boy,” he panted as he caught his breath, nuzzling his head into Jungkook’s woollen hat, feeling the little cold face pressed into his neck.

“Does it hurt, Tae?” Jimin’s eyes were bright with worry.

“It’s okay for walking,” Tae said with a wince, putting weight on his leg and hobbling over to Yoongi, “not good for running yet.”

“We don’t want to waste the candle,” Yoongi cautioned, passing it to Namjoon. “Or give ourselves away.”

“I hear water,” Hobi said. “Can we have a drink?”

“Good idea,” Jin agreed. As they crossed towards the sound of babbling water, the candle revealed that this was more of a river than a stream. It wouldn’t be easy to cross, and Jin hit upon an idea as the others stooped to gulp water into their mouths.

“If the water stays this wide there’s probably a footbridge,” he said. “Let’s follow the water.”

He was right. The footbridge appeared after a few minutes walk, Namjoon cupping his hand around the candle to preserve the flame from the new drizzle falling from the sky.

Jin scouted underneath. The footbridge was stone, and there was enough space for seven children to tuck themselves under it without dipping their feet into the water. It was the first bit of luck he’d had all night, and he hurried the others under it as the rain began to pick up the pace. “Namjoon, lay the tarp out across the shale. I want to get a look at Tae’s leg before we put the candle out. Hobi, Jimin, stuff the bags into the back and pull out the bedding. We’re going to stay here for a few hours and move out at first light.”

An hour later, the rain was pouring from the heavens in sheets. Jin slouched on the tarp with a bag under his back, watching the river bank with some consternation. All seven were huddled together as one. Jungkook was asleep in Jin’s arms, tucked inside Jin’s jumper with him. The neck of Jin’s jumper was stretched beyond repair, but he was more satisfied feeling the heat of Jungkook’s body, knowing that the cold wasn’t getting to him. Yoongi was on one side of Jin, a thin pillow against Jin’s shoulder and Yoongi’s head resting on it. Jimin was curled against Yoongi’s body, a sheet and Yoongi’s arms wrapped around him. On Jin’s other side, Hobi, Namjoon and Tae lay together, Tae’s sprained ankle (or so they hoped) bound up tightly. The rest of the bedding was packed around them in an attempt to keep the body heat in.

Jin’s feet were numb with cold, but he wasn’t going to risk dislodging any of the group to deal with it. The good news, he thought, was that the rain would have halted any pursuit. In fact, in the dark of the night and the pouring rain he could hope that their bridge would be overlooked altogether and they would be deemed lost forever.

Slowly, the feeling of liberation was dawning on him. In the morning they’d eat what little food they had, they’d set out for the nearest town that wasn’t their own, and they’d find somewhere to settle for the night. There would be no-one to tell them what to do, to make them work for free. They’d make more dolls with the supplies they had with them and sell those first, while Jin and Yoongi looked for work. They’d make a home. Most importantly, they’d stick together.

As the hours passed, Jin watched the rain slowly shrivel up, and the sky change from black to grey and pink. Soon his surroundings were in focus, and he peered out at the dewy fields on either side of the river, wondering exactly where they were and how far from the orphanage they’d gotten.

Yoongi groaned as Jin moved, and Jin thought he might as well get them going.

“Up, up, up!” He exclaimed cheerfully, despite the buzzing tiredness at the back of his head.

Their eyes opened sleepily, and Jin watched each jaw drop to not see the same four walls they’d woken up to every day of their lives.

“We escaped!” Jimin cheered, bouncing up almost immediately. Jungkook wriggled out from under Jin’s sweater and clapped his hands, sensing his Hyung’s mood.

Tae got up stiffly, but was soon smiling reassuringly as he tested his leg.

Jin scooped Jungkook up to stop him dropping a handful of gravel into Yoongi’s open mouth.

“We really did it,” Yoongi said with wonderment. “We really did it, Jin.”

Jin chuckled, “nearly. We are still out in the middle of nowhere with five younger kids and limited supplies.”

Yoongi grinned and Jin could see his gums. “We absolutely did it!”

“Sheep!” Jimin called out in delight. “Look, Tae! They‘re heading in our direction!”

Tae, Namjoon and Hobi instantly popped out from under the bridge to see.

“Make sure there isn’t a farmer, Yoon?” Jin took advantage of Yoongi’s good mood, as he fished out a fresh cloth nappy for Jungkook. He’d have to wash the current one in the river for now and boil it later. He smiled as Jungkook kicked his legs up as usual, exploring his daily fascination with his own feet. Jungkook wouldn’t even remember the orphanage. That would be one of the greatest joys for Jin, erasing the whole life that was set out for Jungkook and giving him a fresh one. Mishil would be proud of him, he thought, as Jungkook giggled and grabbed at his toes, the mittens having slipped off during the night.

Jin was just about to feed him when he heard a loud squeal, a “hey!” from Jimin, and then the unmistakeable sound of a man. “And what on earth do we have here?”

“Let me go!” Jimin yelled, and Jin’s adrenaline kicked in. He plucked Jungkook into his arms and hurried to see what was happening. Surely, surely, this farmer wouldn’t turn them in, barely hours into their escape, surely…

It wasn’t a farmer. Jin was certain almost straight away. The two men had sunbeaten skin and straggly dark hair. They wore loose dirty shirts and leather belts. One had a braid in his hair, and one wore a cracked brimmed hat. They wore big boots and embroidery on their trousers. By the time Jin had arrived on scene they had evidently already let go of Jimin, who was facing them with his arms crossed like a little tiger.

“You were trying to steal the sheep!” Jimin accused.

The man with the hat chuckled. “Guilty as charged. Whatcha planning to do about it?”

“Look!” His companion pointed at Jin. “Two more. How many kids do you need when you could just invest in a good sheepdog?”

Jin glanced around. The two men seemed to be alone. The sheep had scattered off towards the back corner of the field they were all in, trapped between the wall and the river, but seemingly unconcerned.

Yoongi put his hand on Jimin’s shoulder to tug him back a step. “We don’t want any trouble.”

“Your da’ here?” the man with the hat narrowed his eyes at him.

“No,” Jimin said defiantly. “We’re orphans!”

Jin bit his lip. This was exactly the piece of information he didn’t want given out to strangers.

The men looked them all over. “You running away from something?” the one with the braid asked. “And with a baby?”

Jin thought he could see the idea of a reward glinting in their eyes. “Take whatever you’re going to take and leave us be,” he said firmly. “We’re not worth anything.”

The men glanced at each other. “I don’t think we can do that,” one said.

“Mamma would kill us,” the other acknowledged.

Jin tensed. They were going to have to run and abandon all their belongings, and-
“Where you kids headed?” The man with the hat asked, surprising them.

“To the next town over,” Jin waved in the general direction, trying to calculate if he could snatch one bag up as he fled and mentally running over the layout of where they’d dumped their stuff on the tarp.

“You want a lift?”

Jin blinked. “I’m sorry?”

“A lift,” the man with the hat said. “We’re going past anyway. You all look worn out, and skinny as hell. Mamma’ll make sure you get a good meal down you.”

“And what do you want in return?” Jin sensed that perhaps they weren’t interested in a reward, but they might be planning to steal their stuff.

The men chuckled. “So cynical, so young,” the braided one laughed. “It’s just an offer kid, take it or leave it. But we will be taking a couple of sheep, and we will be leaving.”

Jin made eye contact with Yoongi. If they were sincere, Jin and his dorm could reach the next town well before nightfall, and put even more distance between them and the orphanage in the shortest period of time. “Okay,” he said finally, “thank you.”

“Get your things then,” the man with the hat said with a grin. His teeth were yellowed.

Each man had a docile sheep slung over his shoulders by the time Jin and the kids had gathered everything together.

“Better hurry before the farmer catches up to us, eh?” the one with the braid grinned. “Follow us.”

“They must be travellers,” Namjoon murmured to Jin. “But are they safe?”

Jin didn’t know. But if they weren’t, he supposed they wouldn’t have let the seven children walk away anyway. “I think so,” he said, trying to sound positive. Jungkook was walking between Tae and Jimin, holding a hand on each side. Jin watched his little bowed legs work away to keep up with the bigger boys.

Where their field met the road there were three caravans: wagons with curved roofs: one painted red, one blue and one a fading yellow. There were gold carvings engraved into the wood and four steps coming down from each. There was another man tending to horses which were tied to a tree at the roadside. Jin had never seen anything quite like it.

A long-haired woman with a headscarf was greasing up the wheels on the blue caravan. “What’s this?” she let out a peel of delight. “We sent you for sheep and you come back with some lost lambs!”

“They need a lift,” the man with the braid shrugged. “Take them in to Mamma, we’ll dump the sheep.”

The woman wiped her hands off on her aprons. “Come along then.”

Up close, some of the paint on the outside of the red caravan was cracked and chipped, but when Jin and the others followed the woman up the stairs and inside the wagon, he was met with startling luxury. The area smelled faintly of aromatic spices. The wooden curved ceiling had coloured ribs criss-crossing it, and gold stencil decorations on the panels in between. There was a decorative rug lining the floor, bevelled mirrors on the walls, crushed velvet pink seats under windows with coloured glass borders and fringed curtains. The walls were painted pink. Along the sides were wooden drawers and display cabinets with crockery and silverware locked behind them. Towards the middle of the wagon was a brass plated cooking range. Above them hung a rail with some pieces of clothing hanging from it.

And at the back of the wagon, as Jin led them forward, just before the bed area, was an old woman in a rocking chair.

Jin had thought Mistress Khang was old, but this woman was far older. He immediately thought of the way Mishil had described the old crone who turned invisible in her stories, though this woman was far from invisible. Her face was distorted with age, so many lines in her sandpaper skin that Jin couldn’t keep track. She wore a large red floral scarf on her head and layers of thin silken multicoloured material over her blouse and skirt. Her eyes, however, were sharp as tacks as they fell on the boys. Out of the corner of his eye, Jin saw Jimin and Tae slip behind the older boys, nervous and uncertain.

The younger woman bent over her and rattled off something to the old woman in a language that Jin couldn’t understand. Then she rose and strode past them. “Have a seat, we’ll set off soon.”

“Thank you,” Jin said after her, and “hello, Ma’am,” to the old lady.

“You call me Mamma,” the old lady smiled, showing a distinct lack of teeth. There was something very regal about her, and Jin hastened to step closer when she beckoned him. “Your brothers?”

“Adopted brothers,” Jin thought that was the easiest explanation. They were all still standing there staring, so he waved at them. “Have a seat.” Slowly they began to clamber onto the cushioned seats.

“Ahh!” Mamma said suddenly, her eyes catching sight of Jungkook. “Sweet baby.”

“Do you want to meet him?” Jin offered. He was guessing their hosts were a family and that this woman was the matriarch. If she liked them then they were protected. Namjoon hesitantly walked Jungkook forward and Jin brought him up into his lap, sitting beside Mamma.

“Hello, baby.” A wrinkled, crooked finger came up to stroke Jungkook’s cheek. Jungkook looked at her curiously, but with none of the fear and prejudice of the older children.

“He’s called Kookie,” Jin told her.

“Kookie,” the old woman ran her mouth over the word.

“Kookie!” Jungkook added recognising his name. He clapped his hands, and Jin saw Mamma’s eyes sparkle. She ran her hand softly over his head.

Half an hour later, the horses were hooked up to the wagons and they were setting off, a bowl of hearty stew in each of their laps. Jungkook had found his way onto Mamma’s lap and she was feeding him with a shaky hand. In between he was holding a one-sided conversation, babbling away to Mamma in a mixture of baby talk and words he knew. Jin smiled softly when the word “Din” appeared, but he was saddened to see how much Jungkook would speak if given the chance. They were always shushing him, training him to be quiet to avoid undue attention. Here, where he was free to do as he liked, their quiet baby proved to be quite the chatterbox. Mamma loved it, soaking up everything the toddler had to say.

Eventually, Jungkook’s work had the older boys at ease too.

“Was this the sheep?” Jimin demanded, waving his empty bowl.

“No,” Mamma laughed. “Keep sheep for few hours. Empty stomach. Better for kill.”

“Oh, okay,” Jimin seemed satisfied, giving his bowl one last lick.

“Where are you going?” Namjoon asked Mamma curiously. Jin was almost asleep with the gentle trundling of the cart, but he listened out for Mamma’s reply.

“Everywhere,” she said.

“You don’t stop?” Namjoon frowned.

Mamma laughed. “Stop plenty. But don’t stay.”

Jin wondered what kind of existence that was, to keep exploring and discovering, always moving, always learning. It was so different from the existence he’d had up till this point that he could barely fathom it.

“You sing?” Mamma asked them at one point.

“Jin is a good singer!” Tae piped up, and Jin groaned from his half-drowsy state.

“He sleep,” Mamma dismissed. “You sing.”

“Me?” Tae was a bit hesitant… “okay..”

Within minutes they were all at it, the wagon filled with their voices, Mamma and Jungkook’s included, though one was singing in an unknown language and the other wasn’t singing in any language at all. Jin couldn’t resist humming along, even as sleep lapped at his head. It was joyful to hear them, to listen to the tones in their young voices, to hear the sound of freedom. He even heard the man with the braid who was outside the wagon door guiding the horses laugh and join in.

Then suddenly, the man in the braid barked “hush!”

Jin’s eyes cracked open, and then he was very much awake. Their voices staggered and stopped. Jin quickly put a finger to Jungkook’s lips to make sure he understood too.

The wagon ground to a halt. Jin had got used to the moment and the sudden stillness was jarring.

He heard another man’s voice. “We’re looking for seven children, they’ve stolen from the orphanage they belong to and become runaways. They must be found for their own safety. There is a reward. Have you seen any children on the road, or in the fields?”

‘Heads down’ Jin mimed to his dorm, realising that they could be seen through the windows. Just before he ducked his own head he saw police uniform. His heart began to pound. They were in trouble.

Chapter Text

They waited with bated breaths. Jin felt his heart twist, listening for the braided man’s response.

“Seven children have been stolen from an orphanage?” Their driver sounded incredulous.

“No, no,” the authoritative voice sounded impatient. “Seven children have ran away from an orphanage, with stolen valuables from said orphanage. Have you seen them?”

“The stolen valuables? No, why would I, our caravans are just passing-”

“No, the children!”

“Oh, the children. No, we haven’t seen any children. Got plenty of our own.”

Jin and Yoongi made relieved eye contact. Their hosts weren’t giving them up.

“We’ll have to do a search of this vehicle, and the other two behind. We want to rule this road out as-”

The panic spiked in Jin again. With a groan, Mamma bent forward and placed Jungkook on the rug at her feet. Then she heaved herself up from her chair with a creak.

“Here,” Mamma whispered, ushering like a mother hen does her chicks. One by one they crawled and slid their way up to the back of the caravan. Jim could hear his heart hammering.

“What’s all the trouble?” The younger woman who’d brought them in called, her voice boisterous. “You in trouble with the police, Dak?”

“No, they’re looking for an orphanage-”

“No! Ma’am, we are looking for children from an orphanage-”

“Shouldn’t you go to an orphanage then?”

“Pah! As I’ve just explained-”

Mamma pointed behind her, to the bedding area with its rich patchwork quilt. One by one they edged their way up. There was one small window set in the back of the caravan and Hobi agilely rolled himself under it and drew the small curtains closed. Jin lifted Jungkook over to Yoongi, as Tae made to climb up.

Mamma’s wrinkled hand closed round Tae’s wrist. “You stay,” she said.

Tae looked helplessly at Jin. Jin nodded, with no idea of Mamma’s plan, if she indeed had one. He made sure the others had bunched together to make enough room for him and clambered up himself, keeping his head low.

As soon as the six were sat on the bed, Mamma drew the large curtain partition across, blocking them from view. From the small space between the end and the wall, Jin watched her root about in one of the drawers, while Tae cast an anxious glance back at them.

“Why isn’t Tae coming up?” Jimin hissed anxiously.

“Shhh!” Jungkook said, roly-polying over to Jimin and pressing a finger against his lips. Jimin batted him off. “Jin?”

“It’s okay,” Jin whispered, watching in astonishment as Mamma began rubbing grease paint into Tae’s face and hands.

“Shhh!” Jungkook frowned at him and rolled over Jin’s way. Jin gathered him into his lap and nodded obediently as Jungkook repeated his new gesture. Mamma was knotting a bright red shawl around Tae’s waist.

“I insist on inspecting the caravans!” The chief constable was becoming more irate.

“Mamma?” Dak called, reeling off several sentences of their own tongue.

Mamma’s responding voice was suddenly frail for a woman who’d been singing at the top her lungs a few minutes earlier. Jin watched through the gap as Mamma clapped one hand on Tae’s shoulder, using him like a walking stick as she hobbled her way up to the front of the caravan, taking her time, making sure each thud and scrape of her feet was heard.

Then she opened the door and Jin quickly pressed the end of the curtain against the wall, holding his hand against it. Now he was blind to what was happening outside the bedding compartment. He looked over the others. They’d had the presence of mind to bring their luggage up with them. Yoongi’s face was grave. Jimin’s forehead was wrinkled in dismay at being separated from his best friend. Hobi stayed by the window, legs curled up, pensive. Namjoon was in the middle, his expression ashen, staring down at his worn shoes.

Jin couldn’t afford to imagine them being hauled back to the orphanage, couldn’t allow himself to see in his mind’s eye the whipping they’d get, couldn’t picture the begging he would have to do just to preserve them alive- so he pressed each thread of panic to the back of his head, and stared instead at Jungkook.

Oblivious to the fringes of chaos encircling them, Jungkook used Jin’s torso to clumsily stand himself up, so that he could play with Jin’s ear. After a while he got bored or tired of bearing his own weight and flopped himself against Jin’s front, still squishing the ear in his hand, marvelling as it bounced back into shape at release. Jin was just happy Jungkook understood that they were being quiet.

Mamma was speaking to the policemen in her own language, rapid but reedy.

“Mamma says… we don’t want any more children.” Tae spoke slowly, as if he were speaking in a second language. “She says.. You have to take them somewhere else. We don’t have…” Then Tae gabbled nonsense suddenly and Jin marvelled at how sharp he was. Mamma returned a few unknown words and Tae continued, “we don’t have room for them.”

“Are you all imbeciles?” The policeman’s temper was fraying.

“Sir,” another voice came. “I think we’re wasting our time. This kind of people will do anything for money. If they’d seen the orphans they’d be chasing the reward. There are plenty of other routes they could have taken, or they could be out in the fields still.”

“You said there’s a reward?” Dak asked suddenly. “How much? I’ll keep watch as we go.”

“They wouldn’t have got this far on foot,” the policeman scoffed. “and you’re heading away from their last sighting. You’ll not be earning anything from those young delinquents and I can‘t say I’m sorry. Come along men!”

Jin hardly dared to believe it. The constables were retreating.

He heard Mamma and Tae shuffle back into the wagon, the door closing behind them. He stared at the others warningly, reminding them not to make any hasty noise. They had survived by the skin of their teeth.

“They gone,” Mamma reported, tugging the curtain aside a few minutes later. Tae grinned up at them, his smile white against the grease on his face. Jimin practically flew off the bed and barrelled into Tae in his haste to hug him.

“Thank you,” Jin said, the words woefully insufficient, suddenly giddy and weak. Mamma gave him a crooked smile. “Come, sit.”

They each shuffled off the bed and back to their seats as Dak nudged the horses on again. Jin ruffled Tae’s hair and noted how each of the others patted his shoulder or his back as they passed him. Tae glowed. As the second youngest and their resident daydreamer, he was often protected and underestimated. No longer. He had saved Jin twice in two days.

“Your ear is bright pink,” Jimin told Jin slyly, as he tugged Tae to sit beside him.

“What are you doing, baby monster?” Jin mock-scolded Jungkook, plucking the toddler’s fingers from his right ear. He could feel his voice still shaking and fought to hide it.

“You should get him to pull the other one for continuity,” Namjoon grinned, as Jungkook pouted. Jin relented and shuffled him on his lap so he was facing the other ear. Jungkook gave it an experimental squeeze, and finding it as satisfactory as the other one, began moulding it his hands.

As the others began to excitedly chatter about their near miss, Jin rested his head and hot ear against the corner between the wall and the cabinet, waves of exhaustion sweeping over him. When had he last slept? For a couple of snatched hours the night before last?

As he nodded off, he felt Jungkook being eased from his lap and he wholeheartedly let sleep have him.

When he woke, some time had clearly passed. Instinctively he felt for his pocket watch, then remembered he’d given it to Moon.

“Are you awake?” Jimin peered at him curiously. “Mamma’s telling us what we are! I’m fire!”

“What?” Jin cranked his eyes open wider, rolling his stiff shoulder. Jungkook was perched on Mamma’s knee again, and he sent Jin a beaming baby-toothed smile. Sleepily, Jin smiled back.

“I’m fire,” Jimin tugged Jin’s sleeve to get his attention back. “Because I’m passionate and warm. Hobi is the earth because he is grounded and gives energy to everyone else. And Namjoon is the trees, because trees are wise and old-”

“Hey!” Namjoon poked Jimin playfully.

“What’s Jin, Mamma?” Jimin said, undeterred.

“Hmm.” Mamma’s beady eyes looked into Jin’s. Jin tried not to cringe under the scrutiny, wondering if this was a joke or it had become serious. “Jin… is the ocean.”

Jin hesitated. “Is that a good thing?”

Mamma chuckled. “The ocean is pure.”

Jin gulped. He wasn’t pure. But how was Mamma to know?

Mamma continued. “Dark places lie below, but it is beautiful, it is powerful. It fights and it protects.”

“Well it beats being an ostrich I guess,” Jin mumbled in a half-joke for the older boys. Yoongi and Hobi smiled softly.

“The ocean is perfect for Jin!” Jimin bounced excitedly.

“I’ve seen the ocean once,” Namjoon said softly. Jin’s ears perked up. He knew what the ocean was, of course. But he’d never been.

“What’s it like?” Tae asked curiously.

Namjoon frowned, reminiscing. “I was five. I remember the air was colder and freer and smelled a bit salty. The sun shone on the waves and they sparkled like diamonds. When you looked out, there was a thin blue line far out in the distance that looked like the end of the world. It was peaceful and soothing, that’s what I remember most.”

Namjoon was seven when his parents had died. He knew so much more of the world than they did, and Jin was grateful for his input. “I’d like to see the ocean one day,” he said wistfully.

“And what’s Tae, Mamma?” Jimin asked, impatient.

“Tae,” Mamma turned her eyes to the eight-year-old fondly and Jin sank back in something akin to relief. “Tae is the wind.”

“The wind?” Tae scrunched up his face as Jimin giggled.

“The wind,” Mamma confirmed. “You are…how to say…Dak?”

Dak called back and they exchanged a few words. “Both breeze and hurricane,” Mamma said finally, mispronouncing the words as Dak shouted them to her. And with a crafty afterthought: “You make fire strong, you make fire weak.”

“Huh,” Jimin’s forehead creased as he took this in, then he smiled at Tae. “That means we work well together!”

Jin chuckled and shook his head at them.

“Yoongi. You…” Mamma explored Yoongi’s face next, and Jin watched him squirm just as uncomfortably as he himself had, but also too polite to stop the old lady in her tracks.

“You are night sky,” Mamma pronounced. “Many things happening in night sky, seen and not seen. Every day sun burns and wants to stay forever. You fight it down. Every time.”

“Thanks…I think.” Yoongi muttered awkwardly, scraping one shoe against another.

“Thank you, Mamma,” Jin added, genuine. “You’ve been very kind to us. We appreciate everything-”

Mamma held up one crooked finger. “Not finished.”

She laid the finger on Jungkook’s head. “Sweet baby,” she said. “Kookie.”

Jungkook’s eyes lit up. “Kookie!” He cheered.

Mamma gazed down at him lovingly. “He is gold. He is your gold.”

The thought fell with a thud against Jin’s heart. “Yes,” he said. “He is. He’s our treasure.”

“Cold?” Jungkook misheard Mamma and cocked his head up at her curiously.

Mamma chucked and laid a kiss on his head. “You are all strong. You stay together, you keep everyone safe.”

Jin nodded fervently.

The travellers dropped them off an hour later. “The road branches off there,” Dak directed, “you’ll see the town once you’re over the brow of that hill.”

“I wish we could stay with them,” Jimin whispered to Jin. Jin squeezed his shoulder comfortingly. “I know, brat, but we need to look after ourselves.”

Tae was about to unknot the red sash around his waist to return it to Mamma. “You keep, you keep,” Mamma scolded him from her position at the door way.

“Thank you,” Tae looked at her with awed eyes.

“So long, kids,” Dak drawled. “Just remember, should the constables catch up to you: a kick between the legs does the world of good.”

“We’ll bear that in mind,” Yoongi smirked, herding the younger ones forward.

“Say thank you, Jungkook,” Jin coaxed the baby, settled on his hip; waving at Mamma and Dak to show the little one what to do.

“Bye-bye,” Jungkook said instead, scrinching his hand open and closed in a pseudo-wave. Jin and Mamma laughed together. “Close enough,” Jin said.

They watched the procession of three caravans trundle off, and they were alone again. Jin sensed the feeling of despondency in the others. “Come on, everyone!” he called, “race you to the top of the hill!”

From the crest of the hill they could see the whole town laid out below.

“It’s huge,” Hobi’s eyes were wide as saucers as they paused to catch their breaths.

Indeed, it looked far more vast and sprawling than the little country town their orphanage was settled in. The town centre was a little off to the west and, like a spider’s web, warrens of twisting narrow streets sprung from it. Some of the buildings were red bricked and slate-roofed. Others looked grey and dank. There were some thatched cottages set apart from the body of the town, and it was easy to spot the rich side of town where buildings gleamed white in the cold November sun, or sat apart, gothic and austere.

As Jin led them down the gentle slope towards town they began to pass people with horses and carts on the road, and the sound of hubbub soon met their ears.

“It smells funny,” Tae whispered to Jin.

“We’ll get used to it,” Jin reminded him patiently.

The market place in the town centre was bustling; horses and carriages, men with carts, women pushing barrows, peddlers with trays about their necks, shoe blacking boys and girls selling handfuls of flowers all moving as one, intertwining around stalls which sold items of all description.
“Hot elder wine! Hot spiced ale!” One woman bellowed as they passed, nearly taking Yoongi’s ear off.

“Look!” Jimin said excitedly to Tae, pointing at one couple walking arm in arm, who had paused to observe the wares at a bookstall. Jin couldn’t help but look too. The man wore a top hat and had a walking cane in the arm that wasn’t supporting the lady. He wore plaid trousers, a long buttoned jacket and a fur scarf. The woman carried a parasol, and had her hair pinned up under a feathered hat. What was most fascinating was the odd silhouette made by her tiny waist and the endless layers of skirt on her dress, the bottom of which trailed some mud from the streets. Jin wondered how it must feel to walk around knowing that everyone else is poorer than you.

“Please, Sir,” a tiny voice interrupted. Jin snapped around and almost jumped a step back at the sight of the urchin. She was wearing a bedraggled pinafore over a blouse that could have once been pale yellow. Her hair was stringy and she wore no shoes. She was filthy from head to toe, so much so that Jin glanced back to check that Jungkook was in Yoongi’s arms and not in a position to approach. Her stomach was distended in a parody of being well fed. Malnutrition. Jin hadn’t truly known what it looked like till now. The child couldn’t have been older than Tae or Jimin, her face gaunt and her limbs spindly.

It frightened Jin. She frightened Jin.

“Do you have any food, Sir?” the urchin asked cautiously, her eyes almost feral as they darted between the boys and their bags.

They had very little to go round seven of them, but Jin couldn’t say no to her.

The urchin snatched at the apples and half a loaf of bread and scuttled off before Hobi and Namjoon would be able ask for them back.

“Is she an orphan too?” Jimin asked, watching the retreating figure. “Shouldn’t she come with us?”

“We can’t help everybody, Jimin,” Jin said, guilt gnawing at him for giving away food that they themselves might need, “we have to help ourselves, and then we can try to help other people too.”

It was decided that they would find lodgings first. A ‘base camp’ as Namjoon called it. It was only just after midday and that meant they had time to explore and look for work before nightfall. The urchin girl had rattled Jin, and he began to see the town with new eyes; noticing spilling sewage and leaking pipes, the rag tag children who snuck in close to passing gentlemen and quickly ran away; almost certainly pickpockets. They passed one alleyway and saw two children asleep on a pile of sacks, completely vulnerable, and barely dressed. He found himself checking where Tae and Jimin were every few moments.

He quickly discerned which side of town was the poorest, and led his dorm away from it.

“The prices could be higher over here,” Yoongi warned.

“We’ll just have to work harder,” Jin said. “We’re used to hard work. We can’t afford to collect any diseases, and the germs will be breeding over there.” He didn’t know a lot about germs, and he hoped he would never have to find out.

The room he settled on, for the week at least, was up a narrow staircase with steep steps, with one window which seemed to be stuck shut, some mild mould on the walls around it, and a film of dust covering the dresser and the four-poster bed. On the plus side, it didn’t have a leaky roof and wasn’t caked in grime and it would be theirs. On the down side, Jin had to spend every penny they had to rent it for the week. He saw Yoongi’s face fall when the man who owned the Cobblers downstairs named his price. It was twice as expensive as some of the other offers they’d had, but Jin was determined. He could see the others gaze around the room as they shuffled in, mentally comparing it to their dorm, gnawing at their lips uncertainly.

Jin put his biggest smile on his face. “Well, the adventure begins here, everyone! Yoongi, you take Hoseok and show him how to sell our dolls at the market. See if you can get an idea of prices. Namjoon, you take Tae and Jimin, stick together, see what kind of work you can scrounge up for any of us. Jungkook and I will have our room all set up by the time you get back. Be careful on the stairs!”

When he was finally alone with Jungkook he sat down on the bed with a thump. A waft of dust flew around them. They both sneezed. Jin chuckled at the wide-eyed expression on Jungkook’s face, the toddler evidently thinking that he had produced Jin’s noisier sneeze as well as his own.

“Where to start…” Jin sat Jungkook down beside the bags. “Lets find Mr Pot Belly to keep you amused, huh?”

After a few minutes rummaging he couldn’t find the doll and was getting increasingly frustrated with himself. Jungkook, in the meantime had pulled at their bundle of bedding and was curling up for a nap. Panting, Jin rose to his feet. It’s okay, stay calm, he trusts you, they all trust you. That was the trouble with being the oldest. You couldn’t afford not to have the answer.

The window, he decided. He was going to open that window even if it had been stuck for centuries. He made sure the baby was comfortable then took one of their kitchen knives and began scraping at the paint that sealed it shut. It took some gentle, then vigorous tapping, then he rattled the sash and after what felt like an hour’s work, the window finally gave and slid up, letting the cool afternoon air in. Jin gave a silent victory dance that wouldn’t disturb either the toddler or their new landlord.

He asked to borrow a broom and a boiled kettle of water. Using the water and soap, Jin scrubbed at the mould near the window till it was gone, then used a rag to dry everything off. There was a single sheet on the mattress and he carefully gathered it together and wafted all its dust out of the window, then left it hanging to be aired. He scrubbed down the bedposts, tested the mattress and hauled it up to be aired a little also. He swept the floor, trying his hardest to contain his sneezes, moving Jungkook and the luggage only when he had completed every other inch of the room.

There was a single chest of drawers which Jin examined after scrubbing also. Inside were two candles which weren’t quite stubs, and a rolled up rug caked in dust. Jin opened each drawer to wipe them down then air them out and finished his clean by beating the rug soundly out of the window, which he then washed from both sides.

As he unpacked their belongings and placed them in the drawers he allowed his imagination to add curtains to the window, a quilt on the bed and something decorative on the walls. When they had enough money, he would buy these extra things one by one, hopefully before the cold of winter set in.

Finally, he used three of their sheets crosswise over the large mattress and its single cover sheet, placing two pillows at each end of the bed, and adding their four blankets in each corner, just overlapping. The remaining fourth sheet he thought he might use as a curtain, but for now he left Jungkook wrapped up in it, and curled up next to him on the centre of the bed. Mr Pot Belly wasn’t here. They must have dropped him during the escape, or left him in the dorm. Jin liked to think that they’d accidentally left him with Mamma and Dak and their family. They’d have to make Jungkook a new Mr Pot Belly with all the wool and thread currently resting in the bottom drawer. He hoped Jungkook wouldn’t mind.

He must have drifted off again, because he woke to Jungkook staring him in the face, centimetres away, his big doe eyes wide.

“Hi,” Jin yawned, and smiled. Jungkook opened his mouth wide.

“You hungry?” Jin stroked his cheeks. “Let’s get a look at your nappy first, then we’ll make dinner together.”

When the others returned Jin had made a meal from what food they had left. Vegetable soup with bread and small portions of cheese. The Cobbler had agreed that they could share the kitchen area which separated their room from his. Jin was glad because it meant if they stayed they would always have a fire to sit by. The kitchen wasn’t half as equipped as the one back at the orphanage, and he found it challenging to keep Jungkook from burning himself through curiosity.

“Dimin!” Jungkook cheered as Jimin rounded the stairs first, eyes bright and cheeks flushed.

“Kookie!” Jimin cheered and lifted Jungkook into his arms. Jin had to pause and laugh at the sight as Jimin’s arms strained.

“Don’t run on the stairs, they’re dangerous,” he cautioned Jimin.

“Wow, the room looks so different,” Jimin ignored him, staring in surprise through the open doorway. “It looks like a real home already! Do you like it Kookie?”

Jungkook pushed a finger past Jimin’s lips. Jimin pretended to bite on it, and the baby erupted in peels of laughter.

Tae and Namjoon weren’t far behind Jimin. Namjoon looked weary. Jin knew he’d asked a lot of him taking both eight year olds and scouting for work. But both raised big smiles when they saw their food being laid out. “I could eat a whole horse,” Namjoon admitted.

“Try a baby instead,” Jimin said, then pretended to gnaw at Jungkook again. Tae bounded over to them to join in and Jungkook laughed harder.

Namjoon began to report back, but Jin held up a hand. “Let’s wait for the others and do everything together.”

They ate dinner over an abandoned crate that Yoongi and Hobi had found and hauled back with them. Tae donated his red shawl as a table cloth and with a candle lit in the centre and the fourth sheet acting as a curtain over the window, they looked very cosy. There was no indoor toilet, just an outhouse at the end of the property which the Hyungs groaned at and Jin realised was going to be hell for toilet training Jungkook, but Jimin and Tae seemed to think was a massive adventure.

Finally, they were tucked up in the bed. Jin sat in one corner with Jungkook tucked into his side asleep, Jimin in the centre, and Hobi at the other corner. Across from them sat Yoongi, Joon and Tae. All their legs tangled together, and they kept their thin blankets wrapped tight. On his lap, Yoongi held one of the candle stubs on a saucer, and by that light, Namjoon had his pencil and paper ready to take notes.

The eight year olds had refused to be left out of this one, even though Jin didn’t want them to worry.

“Let’s start with Yoongi and Hobi,” he suggested.

“We sold most of the dolls!” Hobi said brightly.

Jin tried to hide his expression. “Uh, that’s great.” Usually Yoongi sold them all.

“Hobi will get the rest sold in the morning,” Yoongi said stoutly. “It’s nothing like the marketplace back home. And I used to, well I used to say that children from the local orphanage had made them as a selling point. We can’t exactly do that now.”

Jin wondered for the first time if the locals in their old town hadn’t been as callous as he’d always imagined. Perhaps he should have been more grateful.

“We had to sell them cheaper before people started buying them,” Yoongi added a beat later, reluctantly.

In the flicker of the candlelight, Jin could see the concern etched on Yoongi’s face as he told Namjoon the figure and Joon dutifully wrote it down. It’s not nearly enough, Jin realised.

“Well, let’s see what else we have,” he said, forcing the brightness into his voice. “Market prices for food, Yoongi?”

“They seem fair,” Yoongi acknowledged.

“And they were selling bananas and pineapples,” Hobi added, excitedly.

The eight year olds erupted in so much glee that Jungkook’s face creased like he was going to wake. Jin shushed them and rubbed the back of the toddler’s neck. “We can’t afford these things yet,” he cautioned them. “But we can save up for them.”

“Kookie loves bananas!” Tae beamed.

It was true, Jungkook had adored the one and only banana he’d ever been given so much that he’d ended up with most of all over his face. Jin would love to see him react to one again.

“Anything else?” He asked Yoongi and Hobi.

“We called in at the bakery, they said if Hobi cleans out the ovens each evening and sweeps up they’d be willing to give him any leftover produce.”

That was good news indeed. Any food was good news.

“Tomorrow I’ll go out to see what work I can find for myself,” Yoongi said. “And I’ll get some more dolls made.”

“Can we tell you our news now?” Jimin pressed.

Jin acquiesced, still trying to run calculations in his head.

“Tae and I got jobs!” Jimin looked gleeful. “We’re going to be paper boys!”

“They need to start at 4am,” Namjoon added. “This one isn’t feeling it.” He nudged Tae, who elbowed him back.

“There’s a boy who passes by this street on his way to collect his papers,” Jimin added, “he says he can throw some pebbles at our window to wake us up!”

“You did tell him the right window?” Jin panicked at the thought of their landlord’s family being disturbed.

“Of course we did,” Tae said. “Joon-Hyung was there to make sure we did everything right. We get off at 11am and then at 3pm we go back to collect the newspapers from the people who rented them! We start tomorrow.”

Great, Jin thought. We have our little ones running all over the city. He supposed he should be glad it was less dangerous than the carpet press.

“I spoke to the Cobbler when we came back,” Namjoon added. “He said if I teach his children how to read and write for an hour or two each day he’ll give us some odd jobs to do about his shop and let us borrow equipment to do our own shoe blacking out in the streets. It means I can keep Kookie with me some of the time if you’re going be out working, Jin. If we time it well I can teach Jimin and Tae too.”

“You’ve all been brilliant,” Jin felt his eyes welling. “I’m so proud of you.”

“Can you tally it up?” Yoongi asked quietly. “If we have Jimin and Tae’s wages, If Hobi sells the same amount of dolls again tomorrow, whatever you think you’d be paid for the odd jobs, an estimation of the shoe blacking, and then an imaginary wage for Jin and I, who’d have adult’s jobs.”

Namjoon’s tongue poked out as he concentrated.

“Is that a lot of money?” Tae asked, peering over his shoulder.

“Well…” Namjoon frowned. “It’s only estimations. If Yoongi and Jin both get a full day’s work, excluding Sundays, we should have just enough to cover the rent.”

But not enough for food. Jin glanced at Yoongi and saw the same reaction on his face. Not enough for medicine if one of them got sick. Not enough for clothes, or candles or soap or bandages or milk for Jungkook. Not enough to save up for a quilt or curtains or furniture. Jin thought back to the rooms they’d looked at before this one, the cheaper ones with drips and stains and other occupants with dead eyes.

“We need to make more,” he said finally. “We’ll just have to get more work. We can keep looking and asking.”

“And you and I need employment as soon as possible tomorrow,” Yoongi reminded him. “Every day we don’t takes us further from making rent.”

“We’ll do it,” Tae said. “Remember what Mamma said. We’re like the elements. We’re strong.”

“We’ll make loads and loads of money!” Jimin bounced up and down in excitement and over-confidence.

“Shh!” Jin warned, but it was too late, the jostling woke Jungkook. His eyes squeezed and he began to cry, his arms flapping up for Jin.

“Shhh,” Jin bundled him up into his arms. “It’s okay, baby, we’re all here with you, see?”

“Sorry, Kookie!” Jimin tried to rub Jungkook’s rosy cheek. Jungkook continued to wail. It had been a long and confusing day for him, missing all of his usual routines. Jin hummed a song under his breath to soothe him, concerned that their landlord or his family might be woken by the crying. Looking guilty, Jimin added his voice to the melody, keeping his voice low and sweet. Yoongi surprised Jin by uttering a chant, not quite a story, not quite a lullaby, over the top. Tae added his honey tones in. Namjoon began to back up Yoongi’s calming words and Hobi smoothed everything out with his carefree lilt. Jin rocked Jungkook, feeling the sense of family even more strongly as he gazed into each of their eyes, their little circle lit and warm against the dark and cold background.

Jungkook snuffled, and subsided, burying his nose into Jin’s neck. Before long, he had drifted back off, and Jin very gently eased him back onto his own warm spot on the bed.

“I think I know what else we could do,” Namjoon said slowly, looking round them all. “Together. All seven of us. It might be worth a try.” As Namjoon outlined his idea, pointing to each one in turn, Jin felt a surge of hope in him. It might just be worth a try.

Chapter Text

The next morning went by in a flurry for Jin, rising while it was still pitch black outside, feeling like he‘d slept but having no real idea of what time it was. He made a few trips to the well in the back court and got Jimin and Tae’s teeth brushed, and necks and armpits washed before their friend rattled the window. He hustled them out with an apple each and promise of a better lunch.

Then, as faint light began to creep past his makeshift curtain he wrote Hoseok a shopping list, hoping his poor handwriting was legible. Yoongi rose next and sent the list a look that was just short of disapproving. Jin understood how he felt. But there was no point having rent to pay in seven days if they’d starved to death in the meantime.

Jungkook evidently thought he’d won the battle against toothbrush and bath after they’d missed both yesterday. Jin spend his last few minutes resetting the ground rules and being repeatedly told that he was a “naughty boy.” He left Jungkook snuggling with Namjoon, the comb and apple slices.

The town was still brimming with life, even though dawn was still an hour or two away. As Jin set off at a brisk walk, hunched against the frost of the morning, he watched the undercurrents of the local population come and go. The tavern spilled drunks out onto the street at the end of their night, skinny women with faces caked in powder huddled at street corners, lamplighters set forth with their hooked poles to snuff the lights, people with laden carts trundled in the direction of the marketplace to set up for the day. No-one paid Jin any heed, and he wove his way through unknown streets, passing shut up houses and storekeepers unlocking their shops, watching the sky brighten as he went.

He had a hazy map of the town in his head from what he’d observed yesterday. After enquiring in at various establishments, he was advised to visit the Chandler on the North-West side, where the industrial side of town stopped and the church, park and wealthier houses began.

The Chandler was having a new sign put up, wringing his hands as he bustled about agitatedly near his front door, his skin as waxy as the candles he sold. As Jin approached he realised that there were a few young men and children queuing outside, some of them in near rags. The Chandler saw them one by one, and when it got to Jin’s turn, he looked him up and down and said, “You’ll do, you’re growing into your shoulders and you’ve got an honest face. The new machine goes into operation at five sharp tomorrow morning, I’ll expect you to be punctual and you’ll get a fair wage.”

Jin thanked him and accepted. As he spent the rest of the morning scouring up odd-jobs in the more well-to-do areas, washing windows, beating rugs and doing garden work, he wondered if the other people in the queue had been as fortunate as he was, or whether he was just a little cleaner and less desperate looking than they were.

He returned to their lodgings at lunchtime, his pockets a little heavier, and his mind a little lighter.

“Din!” Jungkook’s eyes widened, and he slid himself off the little footstool he was perched on and half-ran, half-wobbled his way into Jin’s legs, where he planted his face.

“Hi baby!” Jin bent down to pick him up, and Jungkook gabbled in delight, pressing his head into the side of Jin’s neck and curling fingers into his collar as soon as he was level. Jin chuckled at the enthusiasm. “I guess you missed me, squirt.”

“He was the worst,” Namjoon said, with just a hint of a smile on his face. “Every two seconds, I had ‘where Jin?’ then ‘where Tae,’ or ‘where Yoongi’ and then back to ‘where Jin’ again. I think he kept rotating through you all to see if I might give a different answer.”

“Oh sweetheart,” Jin stroked Jungkook’s soft head. “You’re not used to everyone being in different places, are you?”

Namjoon snorted good humouredly. “Try feeling sympathetic when you’ve been answering the same question for seven hours.”

“What did you two do today?” Jin lowered himself down onto the footstool, back against the wall. Jungkook clung on tighter as he did so, burrowing in. Jin knew then he was going to spend every single lunchtime pelting through the town to get back to see Jungkook, if only for a few minutes.

“We got ourselves some milk like you told us to,” Namjoon said, gesturing to the can sitting by the stove. “They actually bring the cows into town from the local farms, so we watched our milk come right from the source, didn’t we Kookie?”

“It didn’t trouble him?” Jin raised an eyebrow.

Namjoon chuckled. “Jimin and Tae have made him fearless. I had to stop him getting too close.”

Jin tilted his head, and had a peek to see if Jungkook was planning to emerge any time soon. Jungkook stayed pressed into him, Jin felt his little breaths huffing against his skin. “And then?” he asked.

“We went to the park,” Namjoon said. “I thought they might shoo us on, its very much in the upper-class part of town-”

Jin nodded, he’d seen the park and church beyond the Chandlers.

“-So I took a few books with us, and that seemed to do the trick,” Namjoon grinned. “Kookie? Why don’t you show Mrs Moderate to Jin?”

Jungkook’s head popped up. “Go on,” Namjoon urged him. With some reluctance, Jungkook detached himself from Jin, sliding onto his feet and toddled towards the bedroom. He returned a moment later, a new home-made doll in his hands, not quite as stuffed as Mr Pot Belly, but with longer strands of colourful threads protruding from her head. Jin pretended to shake her hand. “Hello, Mrs Moderate!”

“Got a good few more made,” Namjoon added. “How did you get on?”

Jin began to tell him, then they heard the door downstairs open and few pairs of feet on the stairs.

“Sorry we’re late!” Tae bounded in, Jimin not far behind him. “Byung-Woo was showing us around after work, and we were playing football with him and his brother and-”

Jungkook gave an excited squeal at not one but two Hyungs arriving at once, and set off in a bow-legged sprint. Tae and Jimin quickly bent down to greet him and coo over Mrs Moderate. Hoseok mounted the stairs a minute later, a bag of shopping in hand. “I better get this hungry crew some lunch, huh?” Jin jumped up to receive it. “Dolls sell out?”

Hobi nodded, fishing the money out and handing it over. “Thinking of taking the shoe shine out this afternoon.”

Jin nodded. “You should take Namjoon too, once he’s finished tutoring. I’ll see if the Cobbler can cough up some odd jobs for me downstairs and keep Jungkook. Anyone seen Yoongi?”

The others shook their heads. “Perhaps he got put to work on the spot,” Namjoon suggested.

Jin did a few runs to the well while Namjoon settled down with Jimin, Tae and the Cobbler’s two children and soon everyone was tucking into smoked herring and butter potatoes.

“There’s a top hat sitting on our bed,” Jin asked Namjoon later, as he stacked the plates. “Who does that belong to?”

“We found it in the park,” Namjoon said. “It doesn’t have a name inside it. I hoped we could use it tonight.”

“Who is it for?” Jin nodded.

“Jungkook.” Namjoon said, a glint in his eye.

“Jungkook?” Jin frowned, bewildered. “But it’ll fall over his head!”

Namjoon grinned. “Wait and see!”

Jin did see. Their first evening’s performance was close to shambolic; Yoongi came home late, covered head to toe in mire and smelling like the sewers. He surrendered to Jin washing him down thoroughly in the back court, but he wouldn’t be budged on what work he’d been doing, wordlessly handing over twice as much money as Jin himself had earned. Then they’d scrambled over to the bakery, where Hoseok was waiting with rock buns, and wolfed them down.

Namjoon kept humming and hawing over the location they should choose. Around them, market stalls were packing up. Jin felt a nervous thrumming under his skin. Yoongi was physically exhausted, falling asleep on his feet, and Hobi wasn’t far behind him. Jungkook was napping in Jin’s arms. Jimin and Tae’s little friend Byung-Woo showed up, and they started a kick about with a rolled up rag. When Namjoon had finally gathered them all together and they began singing in earnest, people did stop and take notice, but Jin wasn’t so sure if they were more than just amused. Still, they garnered a few coins. Enough to make them come back the following day and try again.

A few days later they were drawing small crowds. Jin sat on an upended box with the top hat on his head, under a streetlight with Jungkook between his knees, singing out as if he’d been performing all his life. Yoongi and Namjoon were on either side of him, and between them had concocted a series of rhyming chants, dispersed between the verses, allowing the song to change in tempo; from Jin’s soft ballad to something much quicker. And it was this quicker rhythm that Hobi, Tae and Jimin danced to, ever more synchronised with each passing evening, with the backflips that they used to practice back at dorm. Even more impressively, in between dancing, they found the breath to sing under Jin’s voice, harmonising with it and creating a new sound altogether.

The Cobbler’s son lent Namjoon his tin pipe and Namjoon had quickly become fluent with it. Yoongi had gathered a tin bucket which he used as a drum. He would occasionally shake things up by clipping the side of the lamp post with his stick instead, his smirk making the crowd laugh. After two days of arguments Namjoon also let him borrow a book and Yongi’s knuckles could rap out quite the beat on the cover while he was chanting.

What Jin loved most of all, though, was Jungkook’s reaction to the music. He’d always watched the dancing wide-eyed back at the dorm, or laughed and clapped his hands, but now he would perch a hand on Jin’s kneecap for support and wag his little hips back and forth, his whole body moving with the song. When he got too tired and crawled up onto Jin’s lap, Jin made a point of encouraging him to clap along.

Namjoon’s real genius came through in his idea for collecting money at the end of their performance. Jin would take off the hat, hand it to Jungkook, and then the one year old, with his unsteady steps and beaming smile would toddle round the inner circle of the audience with the hat held up expectantly. Tae and Jimin hovered nearby to make sure he completed his circuit without falling over, while the older Hyungs kept a vigilant eye out for potential thieves, but Jungkook’s legs were growing stronger by the day, and with some wobbles, he would successfully make his way back to Jin, the hat much heavier than before.

The trick, Namjoon said, was to leave the audience laughing. So they’d trained Jungkook to raise the hat up to Jin, asking him for money too. Jin would pretend to be surprised and people would chuckle. Then, when Jungkook held his position, Jin would give a theatrical sigh and reach into his pocket, depositing a penny in the hat himself. Jungkook would then triumphantly plop himself down on the cobble stones, arms and legs curled round the hat as Jin and the others took a final bow.

Namjoon experimented with different locations around town too. Jin noticed that the poorer folks responded most to the performance itself, but the wealthier folks tended to be taken in by the cuteness of the little ones, especially Jungkook. Jungkook was bursting with health and innocent charm, and he was clean. The rich ladies out for an evening stroll with their husbands adored him. At their wives’ insistence the husbands would grudgingly cough up some loose change, looking decidedly uncomfortable at the interaction. Jin couldn’t help but wonder how the couples would react if the scrawny urchin from their first day had been holding the hat up to them in her grimy little paws.

The first week was exhausting, with everyone hitting the sack as soon as they used the outhouse and locked up for the night. Jin and two adult colleagues and five children soon learned how to use the new candle making machine. He marvelled at the cylinder with its moveable pistol which ejected candles from their mould as they solidified, the revolving knives which cut the wick and the little railway system which rethreaded each mould and carried them under the vat of wax to be refilled. He ran home every lunchtime, dividing his time between preparing food for the others and comforting Jungkook. Jungkook’s favourite word became “stay.” “Stay Din” was repeated so many times in one day that Jin wondered if his heart could keep taking it. “I just have to go away for a little while,” he reminded Jungkook whose eyes would be brimming. “I’ll always come back.” Jungkook was rarely satisfied and Jin reluctantly handed a tantruming toddler over to one of the others when he had to dash back to work.

Yoongi remained silent about his work, always returning filthy but with a much better wage than Jin. Jin usually arrived home earlier and tried to heat some water on the stove so that Yoongi’s daily wash down was less uncomfortable. Jimin and Tae had boundless energy and often took over the shoe shine when they finished work at 4pm. Joon and Hobi made good work of splitting the other tasks, including keeping Jungkook. Their money was piling up gradually, and Jin only paid for absolute necessities from it, more soap, more milk, their food.

He could barely look at Namjoon as he counted up their total on payday, even though he knew Yoongi had been meticulously checking it each morning. When Namjoon raised his head, gave them a significant look, and slid aside their rent money, Jin stared at the money left over and his heart leapt for joy, as the others cheered and jumped around him in glee. In his head he began to compile the list of the things they needed. Coats for winter, new shoes, a thick blanket for the bed, a metal bathtub, more toothpowder. He didn’t want to get ahead of himself, but he was beginning to feel secure.

He had a stroke of luck a few days later. They had just finished a show, and were gathering their things together, Namjoon and Yoongi chatting excitedly about new tunes and beats they’d like to try out, when a man with slicked black hair and a tailored suit approached them. “I’d like a word, young man.”

He was speaking to Jin. There was a certain calm authority in his tone which was unnerving. He handed Jungkook to Yoongi and told the others to make their way home. They left with curious eyes.

“I’m visiting from the city,” the man said. “I watched your performance with your brothers. To be frank, I admire the features of your face.”

Jin blanched. He couldn’t control his feet.

“Oh no, no, your misunderstand me!” The man said urgently. “I have a growing city business. Fashion for young men and women. I want to advertise to more customers. I would like to use your features. That is, I would like have photographs taken of you wearing my clothes to display in my stores. I’ll pay you, of course.”

A few days later, Jin was standing in a room above the tavern, dressed in much finer clothes than he could ever have dreamed of wearing, watching the photographer as he buffed a copper plate coated with silver, placing it into a tray and sliding that tray into the box-like contraption he called camera obscura. Then Jin was holding his pose as instructed, valiantly staring at an imaginary point in the air.

When the photographer had finished, he showed Jin the results of his work. Jin stared at a full length image of himself, bewildered. “How is it possible?” He asked, slowly turning one of the pictures in its shallow hinged case as if it might disappear. The photographer kindly tried to explain, but Jin didn’t have the slightest understanding of liquid mercury or fixing solution. He looked at himself once more, wishing he could afford to have a photograph of them all, and returned it to the photographer. In return, he received his fee, and a parcel.

“What’s this for?” he asked, puzzled.

The photographer shrugged, dismantling his equipment. “I was told to deliver it to you with your fee.”

“Clothes!” Tae cheered as they unwrapped the parcel at home. “Look, Yoongi, Look Hobi!”

The businessman had noted the too-short trousers on the older four boys and had provided a new pair each, along with four new shirts. Jin could hardly believe it. With his fee and some of their savings, he was able to go out and purchase new underwear for them all and push the boat out for new shoes when the Cobbler deemed that their current ones couldn’t be preserved.

He decided that they should go to church the following Sunday. “If we go while we have respectable clothes and show that we’re God-fearing they might treat us well in the future.”

“We don’t need their help,” Yoongi grumbled.

“The winter might be harder,” Jin countered wisely.

“Are we God fearing?” Jimin asked curiously, swinging his legs.

Jin wasn’t sure about that. These last couple of Sundays were the first ones they hadn’t attended church. But in some ways Jin was more aware of God in the depth of the sky as he walked to work each morning, in the music reverberating through his head every evening, in every baby grin and habit Jungkook produced. “I think we are.” He said.

They went to church. Back in the orphanage they would have been filed out, two by two, crossing three streets and down a lane to where their town’s church was nestled. People often stared, murmured to each other, sometimes shook their heads. “Poor little mites,” one woman had said when Jin was ten. Jin’s face had flushed crimson and he’d never forgotten it. Mistress Khang and Masters Lee and Cho would usher them along, berating them to hurry up, and before long they would seated in the pews, listening to a sermon they could barely understand.

When they approached this new church, Jin could sense the parishioners watching. They were wearing their best clothes, but Jin realised quickly that these were still unsatisfactory. When they stepped inside, gazing around at the stained glass windows and high ceilings, they were pointed in the direction of a bench towards the back.

“Why can’t we sit further up?” Jimin whispered to Jin.

The woman on Jin’s other side laughed. “The pews are all rented, luvvie. Us normal folk gotta make do with this.”

Even further back in the church, Jin watched as a few patently poverty stricken people shuffled in, dirt trailing with them. They were given crooked stools in the back or instructed to stand. Even families with babies and elderly or pregnant woman were shuffled together against the back wall, their eyes too bright against their haggard faces.

“Look, Jin, look!” Tae tugged on Jin’s sleeve. “There’s Mamma!”

Jin snapped his head round almost immediately. “Where?”

“Near the third row,” Tae craned his neck to see again, disappointed. “I was sure it was her.”

Jin chuckled and slung an arm round his shoulder. He was fairly certain Mamma did not have a pew rented in church. Tae hadn’t seen a lot of elderly people in his time, and had mistaken another worn old face for the woman who had saved them from the police.

When they were leaving the church gate, a beautiful woman in green brocade stopped them. “Oh, Jae, it’s the dear little children who sing each evening! Come aside, dears, let me see you!”

The lady’s husband looked mortified as people streamed out around them while she clucked over each one of them. “I’ll tell you what,” she said, her face alight, bending down to Tae and Jimin’s level. “My husband and I are going out for the last picnic of the season. Each of you may have something from our hamper. Would you like that?”

Jimin and Tae glanced at Jin for reassurance. “That’s very kind, ma’am.” Jin said quickly.

“Jae, bring the food over, will you? Don’t make that face, didn’t we just learn to be charitable? Gather round, dears, and have a look!”

Jimin and Tae stepped forward and their eyes lit up at the hamper‘s contents. “Pineapple!” Jimin breathed. Gingerly he and Tae each took a slice, their eyes wide. “Thank you!” They chorused. The woman patted them both on the head. “What little darlings! And what about you angel?”

Jungkook’s doe-eyed gaze almost appeared incredulous and it made Jin want to laugh.

“May he have a banana?” Jimin asked, catching sight of one.

“Of course he may, precious child!” The lady drew the banana out and handed it to Jungkook. Jungkook had Mrs Moderate in one arm and was holding Jin’s ear in the other, but slowly retracted his fingers to reach out for the smooth yellow fruit.

“Say thank you, Jungkook,” Jin prompted

“Bye-bye.” Jungkook said. Fortunately the lady thought that this was endearing. “I just want to pinch his cheeks!” She said, her gloved hands coming forward like pincers. Jin tried to hide his wince, but fortunately Jungkook was sufficiently distracted by the banana. The husband huffed.

“What about you big boys?” The lady wasn’t finished.

“We’re quite all right, thank you ma’am,” Yoongi said quickly.

“Nonsense!” The lady said, turning the hamper towards herself. “Have any of you ever tried boiled sweets?

Jin’s dorm shook their heads.

The lady clapped her hands in glee. “It’s the most perfect, wonderful sensation.” She said. “Here.”

She thrust a box into Hobi’s hands. “They’re beautifully sugary, there’s different flavours. My favourite is the lemon.”

“We’ll take them home with us, Ma’am, thank you.” Jin said quickly before she could make them each try one in front of her.

“And here,” the lady said, pulling out a brown paper parcel and placing it in Namjoon’s hands. “You shall have some of the sandwiches too, it will be like a little feast for all of you for being such good children.”

The moment the lady and her husband left, Jimin and Tae devoured the pineapple. “It tastes so good!” Tae moaned, juice running down his chin. Yoongi poked the top of the banana with his thumbnail and held the edge of it out to Jungkook. Jungkook took the edge and pulled, a little gasp falling from his mouth as the skin peeled down. He looked at all his Hyungs to make sure they’d noticed the miracle. Yoongi’s face, still taut from their encounter, softened. He helped Jungkook rotate the banana and pull down another strip. Jungkook gasped again, head bobbing back and forth.

“That’s the banana, Kookie,” Jimin said. “You had one before, remember? Ba-na-na.”

“Nana,” Jungkook repeated agreeably, clearly excited as Yoongi set him up to repeat the process again.

Their spirits were high as they walked back towards their side of town. Namjoon had sniffed the sandwich parcel more than once, and Jin had caught Hobi peeking inside the box of sweets. Jungkook was wearing half of his banana and gunging the rest of it between his fists.

On their route, they passed by the outskirts of the poorest and roughest part of town. Children ran past them barefoot. Jimin, who was in the lead, stopped suddenly.

“What’s wrong?” Tae asked him.

Jimin’s brow furrowed. “Do you think…we should give the sandwiches and sweets away? To the orphans who don’t have a family like us?”

Tae was about to protest, then thought about it and nodded. “Jin, can we please give the food away?”

Jin glanced at Yoongi, Hobi and Joon, who were all gazing at Jimin and Tae with the proudest expressions on their faces. To Jin’s surprise, he felt a tear slip down his cheek. He blinked quickly before more could come. Just when he thought he couldn’t love his kids more.

That late-afternoon they went home with nothing but the clothes on their backs, and to an ordinary meal, but it was the merriest evening of Jin’s life.

As the first few days of December rolled in, Jin felt prepared. Winter was tough, even back at the orphanage. Here it would be harder. He purchased the big blanket for their bed. He talked Yoongi into taking up crossing sweeping instead when the snow fell. He saved money where he could, knowing that bad weather would mean no performances on certain nights.

He wasn’t prepared for the day he came home from work to find Tae and Jimin in floods of tears with Namjoon and Hobi rocking them tightly.

“Byung-Woo died,” Namjoon told Jin. At first, Jin didn’t know who they were talking about, so horror stricken to see the children in distress.

“He was our very best friend,” Jimin sobbed, and Jin’s heart broke for them. He set Jungkook down on their small rug and held his arms out to the eight year olds. Jimin and Tae rushed into him with a thud, and Jin wrapped his arms around them, feeling their heartbeats racing and their bodies quivering.

“What happened?” he asked gently, when they had calmed down a little, wiping the snot from their faces. “Was there an accident?”

“He fell sick a few days ago,” Tae said. “He said his neck was stiff and he felt too hot and then he didn’t come into work. His brother told us he died yesterday. I don’t understand.” He coughed miserably.

It was just a cough, but it put a fear into Jin, a creeping terror in the back of his mind. One of the children at his own workplace had been running a fever and saying her throat hurt a few days ago. She’d been sent home and hadn’t returned since.

Over the course of the next two days, Tae and Jimin both became ill. It wasn’t anything serious at first, and Jin tried to convince himself that they were just a little weak from grief, but they both had temperatures and sore throats, and he kept them in bed. On the second day, Yoongi came home complaining of a stiff neck, and when Jin checked his temperature, it was also elevated.

They had enough money to pay for a doctor, but it wouldn’t be enough to cover the rent too, and with half of them unable to work they couldn’t raise money for both. Jin tended to Yoongi, Jimin and Tae on his own. There were reports all over town of a spreading illness, but Jin still didn’t know if that’s what his three had. He made Hobi, Namjoon and Jungkook sleep in the kitchen on a pile of clothes with him, wrapped in their old blankets, worried that the illness travelled by air. Each time he touched Jungkook he was scared he might inadvertently pass something on. Jimin, Tae and Yoongi were fighters, but Jungkook was so tiny still, and Jin was petrified that his small body wouldn’t cope with an illness that was killing children more than twice his size. Jungkook absolutely loathed being separated from half of his Hyungs, and Joon and Hobi wanted to help too, but when Jin’s back was turned and they tried to enter the room, Yoongi barked at them to stay out. The invalids were tired, their breathing shallow and their fevers occasionally spiking, but they were still able to drink water and soup and talk. Namjoon took over Tae and Jimin’s work for the time being. “About half the children are out,” he reported gravely.

It was impossible for Jin to care for the other three and for Jungkook, so he left his job, hoping that the Chandler might give it back to him in the future. He would go out with Hobi to sell some dolls, or work on the shoe shine, or for the Cobbler, and go rushing back to their room every few hours to check on his kids. He paid rent when the time came, hoping that he’d made the right decision.

A few days later, Jin and Hoseok were both working on the shoe shine, Jungkook and Mrs Moderate between them on the tarpaulin. It was afternoon, the sky was darkening and the frost was coming in. They’d set up in a good spot and work was coming in regularly. Jin was weary. He’d barely had a moment to rest and was trying to decide whether to buy medicine from the chemist, or keep holding out to try to scrape enough money for next week’s rent. Yoongi, Tae and Jimin weren’t any worse, but they weren’t any better either. There was a white-grey membrane across their tonsils and upper throat, which was impeding their breathing somewhat. Jin wasn’t sure if it would go away on its own.

He greeted the gentlemen who placed their foot on his box and began working away with the Cobbler’s blacking polish, but didn’t have the energy to lift his head. Hoseok was equally busy, head down, trying to rake in as many pennies as they could. One person asked Jin when his family would be performing again, and Jin could only muster a vague answer, summoning the last of his concentration and energy on the job before him.

Another shoe made its way into his line of sight, and Jin dutifully said “good evening, sir” and began to work.

“Din.” Jungkook said, his tone distressed.

“What is it baby?” Jin fired a quick glance to the side to check Jungkook was okay, then went back to the shoe he was working on.

“Din.” Jungkook said again, clutching Mrs Moderate close.

“That’s not a very good dolly,” Jin’s customer said to Jungkook. “I’m sure you miss your old one. In fact, I have it right here.”

Jin’s head snapped up.

Master Lee smirked down at him. “Gotcha.”

Chapter Text

The blacking cloth tumbled from Jin’s fingers. Across from him, Hobi was stalk still.

“You thought you were so smart,” Master Lee sneered down at Jin, eyes gleaming. “The constables told me you couldn’t possibly have made it this far out. You slipped past them, didn’t you? I bet you laughed, thinking you’d outwitted me. But I was making inquiries in a town far away from here just two days ago. Do you know what I saw?”

Jin shook his head dumbly. They needed a plan. Was Master Lee here alone? Were policemen with him? In his periphery he saw the man Hobi had been working for thrust a coin at him and back off, evidently afraid of his fellow customer. Master Lee had never looked more intimidating: hair askew, dark bags under his eyes, body twitching with energy, a mania in his facial expression, smiling like the cat who got the cream.

Master Lee shook Mr Pot Belly, and Jungkook let out a whimper. “I saw a child newly arrived in town with her parents, with a doll which looked just like this one. All I had to do was ask where they had acquired it. You didn’t think of that, did you?”

Jin’s body was transfixed, fear pooling in his guts, his mind sluggish.

“I’m going to make you sorry,” Master Lee whispered, his pupils dilated, his body seeming to stretch and grow as he crowded in on Jin.

Then Jin noticed the hand with the doll, stretching out towards Jungkook, and in an instant he knew what Master Lee was going to do. Jungkook was already whining for his doll, his little arms reaching for it. Master Lee only had to snatch him up and Jin and Hobi would be helpless. The thought of Master Lee touching Jungkook turned the cold fear into lava in Jin’s veins.

“Take Kook!” He roared, not recognising his own voice, as he sprang up and threw his body at Master Lee, almost weightless for a moment before his bones connected with the soft skin and then into the hardness of torso, the momentum propelling him forward and Master Lee backward with a crash. He couldn’t hear Hobi or Jungkook, the background blurred as he yanked his fist back and sent it pummelling towards those too-bright eyes.

He could smell Master Lee’s sweat, could feel the heat from his body, their limbs tangled together, bodies scraping against each other as his punch connected with a crunch. Master Lee let out a cry and blood sprayed out. Jin swung again, and his wrist was caught. Master Lee grinned, blood spilling from his nose, into rivulets between his teeth. He held Jin with almost inhuman strength and bucked his body up, trying to dislodge Jin’s weight.

“You know you look so much better underneath me,” he snarled, a rabid vampire, as Jin braced his legs, trying to hold his position, other hand scrabbling on the ground, his vision almost wiped out. And then Jin felt himself tipping off, and using the iron grip on his wrist to swing himself, he kicked with all his might into Master Lee’s crotch, propelling himself out of the range of the larger body.

Master Lee howled, and for a moment the grip on Jin’s wrist eased. Jin yanked it free and twisted, trying to get up. But Master Lee lunged before he could get onto his feet, two burly arms encircling Jin’s waist, using his weight to lug Jin back down to the ground. Jin threw his hands out to stop his face smacking against the cobbles, his teeth gritted in pain as he was scoured along the uneven stones, Master Lee’s hands snatching more and more of his jumper as he dragged Jin under him.

He could hear voices around them, agitated and indistinct. Someone tried to intervene, but Master Lee sent a blow out at them, his other hand now digging into Jin’s scalp, fingers fisting into his hair and holding his head down. Jin’s eyes watered, and he thrashed despite the pain, trying to throw his elbow back or buck his legs. All he could feel now was raw panic, his body in a position he’d promised himself it would never be in again, the smell and heat and feel of Master Lee almost overpowering.

“He stole from me!” Master Lee yelled. “He’s a common thief. I’ve called the constables. He’s like a wild animal, see how he attacked me!” His legs locked Jin’s in, as his free hand yanked at one of Jin’s flailing elbows, pressing it into Jin’s back, pushing the arm higher and higher till it felt like it might break.

“Be still,” Master Lee growled at him, and to Jin’s shame, his arm spiking with agony, his body trembling with terror, he subsided. His body was a limp rag, as Master Lee hauled him up onto his feet, manoeuvring him by the grip on his hair. He blinked unseeingly at the one or two passersby who had gathered around, their faces etched with either concern or distaste, as Master Lee pivoted him around towards one of the narrower side streets still yelling about the police and theft and dirty street urchins.

No one followed them. Master Lee pressed Jin’s face against the wall, wet moss rubbing against his cheek, his arm still held at a painful angle, hot, angry breath in his ears. He could feel blood from Master Lee’s nose dripping onto the back of his neck and shoulder. Tears sprang from his eyes; helpless and hopeless, despairing of himself for having even tried.

“I didn’t think you were so bold,” Master Lee heaved in between breaths. “I’ll have to train that out of you.” His body chafed against Jin’s back and Jin’s body convulsed in response. “Now, you have a choice to make. I want the others. I’m sure dear Hoseok has ran back to them by now. You can take me to them, or we can leave right now. I have a carriage waiting. But, rest assured, Jin, if you don’t deliver them to me right now, I will return here when you are safely locked up back at the orphanage, and I will hunt down every single one. If you give them over now, I will show them some mercy. After all, it was you who led them astray, was it not? But if I have to come back then there will be no mercy.”

Jin could hear the wicked delight in his voice as he crooned the last part: “And in the meantime, without you, who’s to say whether they would even survive?”

Jin thought of Joon and Hobi with three invalids and a baby and knew immediately that they wouldn’t.

“Well?” Master Lee pressed a bloody kiss to the back of Jin’s neck, relishing the shudder that ran down Jin’s spine in response. “What will it be, Jin?”

Jin’s lungs were rattling as he tried to squeeze some air down his throat. “I’ll take you to them,” he rasped out. He winced as Master Lee readjusted the grip on his arm and pulled him off the wall.

“Don’t cause me any more trouble, Jin,” Master Lee whispered in his ear, “or when I get my hands on that sweet little baby I’ll smash his tiny skull myself. Walk.”

Jin stepped forward haltingly, the threat ringing in his ears, his thoughts jangling. He couldn’t string a plan together, not like this, with his body bruised and wiped of energy, fear like a blanket over his instincts.

But he couldn’t let it end like this. Not if they had a chance.

Desperately, he walked Master Lee in the wrong direction, praying that he didn’t know this town, that he wouldn’t notice if Jin lead him on a convoluted route. He had to buy himself time. He had to think.

Master Lee had come on his own, aside from perhaps a hired carriage driver. Impulsive. Without any plan other than to take them back and make them pay.

If he took them back, Jin was certain that he would never see the light of day again. He didn’t know about the others, but there was every reason to believe that they would be kept even into their adult years, to keep Jin compliant, to make him suffer. It would never end, not unless Master Lee tired of him. And then… Jimin and Tae would be teenagers in five years, and then Jungkook some years after that, and Jin wouldn’t be able to stop Master Lee if he chose one of them next. He might be long disposed of by then. He couldn’t allow any of them that misery.

If Jin were to escape now, they would have to get out of the town. Too many people knew that the children who sold the dolls also did the singing and dancing performances. Too many people knew where they lived, and what they looked like. Master Lee would find them again if they didn’t move.

And if they did move, Master Lee might find them again. If they couldn’t sell the dolls or do the shows for fear of being recognised then they wouldn’t be able to afford anywhere better than rat-infested slums, where most of the fatalities from the illness were, and where many more illnesses would breed.

Yoongi, Jimin and Tae were still sick. If they were to be moved now, would they get better, or would they deteriorate? If Master Lee brought them back to the orphanage, would they all be kept together and all become sick? Would Jungkook survive if he became sick too?

Jin wondered what Mishil would have done. Mishil, who had an answer to everything, and dreamed of adventure. Mishil who accepted her death because it was inevitable.

There’s seven of you and one of him, he pictured Mishil saying, her legs swinging from the upper bunk in her dorm, her face bright and curious. Shouldn’t that count for something?

But he’s stronger than me Jin imagined replying. I’m afraid of him. He can hurt them, and he can hurt me. He has hurt me.

Don’t you remember? Mishil said, her eyes soft and gentle. Don’t you remember that I told you I’d watch you and help and you bless you?

But you’re dead, Jin thought hopelessly.

And you are so alive Mishil whispered. Jin, you’re so alive, and you have something in you so much stronger than your fear.

Jin thought of Jimin and Tae, of Hobi and Joon, of Yoongi and Jungkook.

Fight for them, Mishil said simply. Its his life, or all of yours. Fight, Jin.

Jin blinked the tears back from his eyes, feeling his gaze sharpen. Perhaps Master Lee felt the difference, because he pressed Jin’s arm up a notch more. “Hurry up.”

Jin headed for the worst part of town, where the illness was supposed to be rampant and where crime was more common than food. He watched the ground become dirt tracks, the gutters spilling over, the housing become slums. He passed the occasional dead animal in the street, grime and excrement blocking the drains, ragged barefoot children running by, people hobbling and shuffling past, the streets narrowing, as he searched for something, someone who would help him.

“How much further?” Master Lee growled in Jin’s ear, pinching his hair, as Jin turned yet another corner.

“Not far now,” Jin said, determined to walk forever until something fell in his favour.

Then, without warning, a young woman stepped out of a doorway, and sidled up to them. She had rouge on her dirty cheeks and a shawl wrapped round her shoulders. “Good evening, sir,” she said, batting her eyelashes. “Won’t you stay a while and spend some time with me?”

“Can’t you see I’m busy?” Master Lee snarled, shoving Jin forward.

The girl winked at Jin, and Jin realised she was here to help him. He glanced up ahead to see another young woman, a girl really, approaching, her long hair in a plait, and her skirts muddy, blocking off their way. “Sir, won’t you come with me instead?”

“I will not,” Master Lee retorted, “step aside.”

“Sir! Another young woman hurried forward, face flushed and neck swollen, “I’d give you much better company, please, join me-”

Master Lee let out a growl of indignation and swung Jin around. “We’ll go another way.”

But there was a fourth girl, in behind the woman from the doorway. “Sir,” she said, tugging at Master Lee’s clothes. “Can’t you spare us a few pennies? So many of us have the illness, you see. We can’t get work. Surely you would-”

“Get off me, get off me-” Master Lee spluttered, releasing Jin’s hair to bat them away, but they only crowded in closer, pawing at him, fingers reaching towards his purse, till Master Lee let go of Jin’s arm to wrench his money back.

That was the moment Jin needed. He sprinted forward without hesitation, feeling Master Lee’s fingers snatch at him, but only bat the air. The girls in front of him leaned back as he surged forward, and quickly closed the gap behind him. Jin shot one glance behind him. Master Lee snarled angrily, trying to shove past the young women, but they clung onto his arms and in the tight space, he couldn’t swing them off.

There was another young woman waiting for Jin as he rounded the corner.

“Where do you want to go?” She asked, beginning to run with him. “I’ll take you the quickest.”

“The Cobblers,” Jin gasped out.

The young woman nodded. “Follow me.”

They wove in and out of alleyways, the young woman’s dark hair streaming behind her like a halo. Jin’s bones ached from running, and his arm and scalp burned with pain, but he pushed himself on, making sure he kept pace with her.

When they emerged out onto the Cobbler’s street, Jin was completely taken aback. “I didn’t know this route existed,” he admitted between heaves for breath, hands dropping to his knees as they finally came to a stop. “Were those your friends? Thank you for saving me”

“You saved yourself,” the girl shrugged, the keenness of her gaze reminding Jin of Mishil, pressing her hand against the nearest lamppost as she caught her own breath. “Most things that happen in these parts you gotta turn a blind eye to. But you was different.”

“Different, how?” Jin frowned, finally able to straighten up.

“Do you remember the day your family came by with the food and the treats? You made my brother and sister the happiest kids alive the day.” The girl said.

The day after church. Jin remembered it well, it was just over a fortnight ago. Jimin and Tae had been so excited giving out the rich lady’s sandwiches and boiled sweets. Some of the children had recognised them from the market square, and had urged them to do an impromptu show. Other children had been so desperate that they’d grabbed at the food and stuffed it immediately into their mouths. “I remember,” he said.

“That was the first time in ages that I saw them smiling,” the girl admitted. “And the last. The sickness took them last week. I told myself if I could ever repay you for making them smile like that, I would.” She shrugged again. “Now I have.”

“What’s your name?” Jin asked.

The girl chuckled, stepping back to slip back into the alleyway and out of sight. “It don’t matter. Get your family safe.”

Jin took her advice. Some energy restored, he sprinted to the Cobbler’s shop and pushed the door open which led up to their room, dreading what he might find there.

“Jin? Jin, oh thank God!” Namjoon cried out from the top of the stairs, as Jin bolted up them, ignoring his own rules.

“Are you all here?”

“Yes, we’re here. Where’s Master Lee?”

“Gave him the slip, had help,” Jin summarised briefly, taking the last two steps in one, his eyes quickly taking in the kitchen.

Hobi and Joon had their bags packed, the bundles at the door. Jungkook sat on top of them and let out a cry of pure delight at the sight of Jin. Jin dropped to his knees and held his arms out, and the toddler catapulted himself into them. Jin allowed himself just a moment to hold his baby close, to stroke his back and smell his baby scent. It grounded him. He rose, Jungkook in his arms. “Are the others awake?”

“They’re dressed, they’re ready to go,” Namjoon reported. “But they’re still sick. Where can we go, Jin? There’s no towns nearby. It could be freezing by tonight. I don’t know if we can move them.”

Jin passed Jungkook to Hobi. “I’ll go see them.”

It could be a matter of minutes or hours before Master Lee discovered that they lived at the Cobblers. If he called for the police, he would be believed. He was a respectable adult, and they were orphans. He would persuade the police to cart them back to the orphanage, and it would all be over. Staying here wasn’t an option, not while Master Lee was still around. But when Jin had seen them this afternoon, his three invalids had not been looking well enough for any kind of rigorous activity.

Sure enough, when he entered the room, he was greeted with muted cries of delight. Jimin immediately began coughing, as if the effort had exhumed all the air from his lungs. Jin crossed to the bed anxiously and put his hand over Jimin’s forehead. He was still running a fever.

“Is Lee alone?” Yoongi demanded, his eyes obsidian black, as he sat up in bed, his fingers twitching.

Jin nodded, reaching over to Tae. “Yeah, he’s alone. For now.”

Yoongi pushed aside the bedclothes. As Namjoon had said, he was fully dressed. “You know what this means. He won’t stop till he has you. He’s not going to be persuaded otherwise. Its him or us, Jin.”

The finality of it horrified Jin. “I know,” he said. “But I don’t think I can kill him.”

“I know,” Yoongi said grimly, face dark.

“I don’t want you to kill him either!” Jin exclaimed.

“I won’t have to,” Yoongi said. “Can you think of somewhere the others can hide?”

Jin nodded slowly.

“We want to help,” Tae croaked.

“You can help by being brave and keeping warm,” Yoongi told him. “This one is for your Hyungs to deal with.” Jin didn’t miss the way Yoongi’s legs shook when he stood up from the bed, still feeble.

Yoongi scowled at him, annoyed by his own weakness. “Let’s hurry.”

They stole out into the late evening in an odd procession. Namjoon led the way with Jungkook, mindful to keep separate from the others. Hobi followed with Tae on his back, and Jin carried Jimin. They’d had a rushed fight about it, Jin having worked so hard to keep Hobi separated from the infected members of their dorm previously. But as Hobi pointed out, Jin couldn’t carry both of the eight year olds, and Yoongi was in no fit state to be carrying anyone. Jin kept the blanket wrapped tight round Jimin’s back as they walked, hoping that the haggard breathing in his ear didn’t get any worse.

The Chandler was a meticulous man in many ways. He’d worked hard to purchase his new machinery, he’d employed only the healthy and was quick to dismiss those who were too ill to work. He kept careful note that no-one’s lunch break dragged beyond the agreed time. There was one way in which he wasn’t meticulous. Jin had seen where he hid the spare key.

The air was still and cool as Jin unlocked the Chandler’s shop. The Chandler would be upstairs with his family, so he ushered his dorm in quietly.

It was odd to see his old workplace bathed in the darkness of evening. Jin led the others over to a safe corner. He’d already warned them not to touch the machinery. He set Jimin down on his feet and tugged their big blanket out from the bag, folding it into the corner. Jimin and Tae crawled on, curling up together, and Jin quickly tucked some of the thinner blankets round them, stroking their sweaty heads.

Jungkook was fortunately getting sleepy in Namjoon’s arms, and he only huffed a little when Jin gave him a kiss goodbye. Then Jin turned to Namjoon and Hobi. He could barely see them in the dim light, but he placed a hand on each of their shoulders. Namjoon and Hobi stared back at him. They wanted to come too. But Jin knew if he and Yoongi failed to return then the thirteen-year-olds would have the three Maknaes counting on them. They had to stay.

“Lets go,” Yoongi whispered.

Jin took one last look over his little family, imaging that he was taking a photograph. Then he followed Yoongi out of the door and out into the night.

They walked together under the streetlights, back in the direction of the Cobblers. “So,” Yoongi said, stifling a hoarse cough. “I haven’t told you about what I was doing for work. Did you know there’s a small river which runs through the richer side of town?”

Jin shook his head, mystified.

“That’s where we need to make him chase us,” Yoongi said, his face grim and determined.

Master Lee hadn’t made it to the Cobblers. “He must still be lost in the slums,” Jin said, half dreaming that Master Lee might have given up on him and gone home.

“Let’s find him,” Yoongi said.

It was surreal, walking the streets, asking for the man who wanted to hurt them. Jin could barely believe he was doing it. Yoongi’s face was flushed, and Jin didn’t need to check to know his temperature was back up.

It took them an hour to locate Master Lee. He was asking a drunk for the location of the Cobblers. Jin and Yoongi looked at each other significantly. There was no doubt now.

“You can’t run all that way,” Jin whispered to Yoongi, as they tucked themselves back in against the wall they were hiding behind.

“I can,” Yoongi said stoutly.

“To the river? Yoongs, you’re sick. Go there now, I’ll follow Master Lee. Give you a head start, then get him to chase me.”

Yoongi reluctantly agreed and set off at a trot, clearly pushing his body beyond its means. Jin lurked in the shadows, watching Lee, ducking out of sight as he slowly tracked him. There was an imperious vindictiveness in Master Lee’s manner which was annoying the locals, and more than a few gave him botched directions. Jin followed Master Lee round in circles, back and forth, until finally, Master Lee emerged out onto the street where the Cobblers was.

Jin saw him walk up the door and before he could rap the door, Jin stepped forward.

“Are you looking for somebody?” He said.

Master Lee spun round in shock. “You!”

“Come on,” Jin said. “I’ve got something to show you.”

He ran.

Master Lee screamed out behind him. “Come here this instant!” But Jin knew he was fleeing for all their lives now.

He kept glancing behind him as he ran, making sure he didn’t outrun the orphanage manager. Master Lee seemed to realise that Jin was waiting for him and maintained his pace, black fury in his expression. Jin wondered if Master Lee just wanted him dead now. He felt an odd calmness as he darted towards the river, in the direction Yoongi had described. He passed people of course, but none stopped him, or inquired where he was going. Master Lee had stopped yelling and was concentrating on running.

His heart bellowed at him as he skidded down onto the shore of the river. It was pitch black, but he could see Yoongi upstream, with a lantern round his neck, waving at him.

“Stop right there!” Master Lee yelled.

Jin kept running, but his whole body jolted when a loud crack ripped out across the river.

“He’s got a gun!” He yelled at Yoongi unnecessarily.

“Good,” Yoongi said, the lantern catching odd angles of his face, making him look almost ghoulish. As Jin neared, Yoongi swung himself from the end of the footbridge, almost as if he was going to face-plant the side of the embankment. Jin followed. There was an outflow in the embankment, the entrance to the sewers which ran under the town.

Suddenly a lot of things about Yoongi’s job made sense.

Jin couldn’t swing himself with the ease that Yoongi had, but Yoongi grabbed the front of his jumper as he flailed and yanked him in beside him. Jin found himself up to his knees in liquid that might not be water.

“Follow me,” Yoongi said. He had a stick with a hook in his hand, and led the way, the lantern swinging slightly. They couldn’t run, and Jin found himself regularly glancing back, expecting to see Master Lee and his gun appear and shoot them where they stood.

Apparently Yoongi had timed it perfectly, because just as the reached a parting in the tunnel, Master Lee did appear, stumbling and tripping as he landed, a stream of expletives pouring from his mouth. Yoongi made sure Master Lee had seen Jin, then yanked Jin after him. Jin could hear Master Lee sloshing up after them. “You’re like rats in a trap!” Master Lee screamed. “I’m going to make you pay for the rest of your miserable lives-”

Yoongi maintained his pace, dogged, the light casting up the brickwork all around them. Jin tried not to breathe through his nose as the smell became oppressive, the liquid becoming more like sludge. If the gun didn’t kill him he felt certain the fumes would. His heart hammered each time he glanced behind him.

Finally Yoongi stopped. “Here,” he said, turning left from one of the wider tunnels into a much narrower one. “If my timing is right..” He walked in a few metres, reached up with his pole and hook, and Jin noticed a loop of metal that had been screwed into the ceiling of the tunnel.

“What if your timing is wrong?” Jin asked urgently.

Yoongi shrugged. “He’ll probably let you live, and you can be sure you’ll attract a lot of attention walking back through town smelling like that. You’ll have to get help. Me, this damn illness is trying to kill me anyway, I might thank Lee for speeding it up.”

Jin could hear Master Lee coming for them. The light from Yoongi’s lantern made a large shadow appear first, filling the whole tunnel, making Jin gape in fear, before Master Lee himself appeared at the entrance. He had fallen more than once without the lantern nearby to guide him, and brown mire dripped from his face and clothes. His eyes glittered with pure hatred, as he raised his gun at them. “I should kill you both right here,” he spat. “Little sewer rats is exactly what you are-”

Then there was a loud rumbling sound, the likes of which Jin had never heard before.

“Hold tight,” Yoongi muttered grabbing onto Jin as Master Lee let out a gasp of horror.

There was barely time to think before a torrent of water flew through the tunnel Master Lee was still standing in. He hurled himself forward towards Yoongi and Jin as water gushed into their tunnel also. Jin held onto Yoongi’s waist tightly as Yoongi kept his grip tight on the pole while the water tried to sweep them away. When the rush of water abated, Jin found himself standing up to his waist in the sewer. Yoongi righted the lantern and unhooked himself from the ceiling.

“You…little…”

Jin stared openmouthed as Master Lee emerged from the sludge, his hand sliding against the brick wall as he found his footing. Yoongi’s jaw dropped. Somehow, he’d found a means to hold on. Perhaps he’d sufficiently got himself inside their tunnel to avoid being swept away.

Master Lee laughed at the shock in their eyes.

“Aren’t you a clever one,” he snarled at Yoongi. Jin heaved himself through the water to stand in front of Yoongi, but Master Lee laughed. “I don’t think you’ve earned your life, Jin. I want you to die knowing that as soon as I get out of here, I’m going to find your little brothers and-”

There was an almighty crack. Master Lee had slipped, and as he tipped back, his finger had slipped on the trigger. Jin barely had time to shut his eyes and brace as the portion of roof above Master Lee’s head collapsed on top of him. The noise was deafening and Yoongi and Jin clung to each other, heads ducked.

When the noise settled, they were still alive. Jin touched Yoongi’s face hardly daring to believe it. The entire roof had caved in right in front of them.

“That works too.” Yoongi said breathlessly.

“Do you know the way out?” Jin whispered, his body trembling, staring at the unknown passageway behind them.

“I do,” Yoongi pushed through the water towards the cave in instead, his lantern catching a glimpse of something.

“Don’t disturb the bricks!” Jin exclaimed frantically as Yoongi reached out.

“Just one,” Yoongi said calmly, reaching out and gently tugging one aside. Jin winced, but the rubble didn’t budge. Yoongi tossed his brick aside, looking down at Master Lee’s crumpled face.

“We got him,” he said simply.

Jin cried all the way to the Chandlers. He didn’t know why.

They were home well before the Chandler opened his shop for the morning. The night’s escapades had taken a toll on Jimin and Tae, but especially on Yoongi, who hit the bed as soon as Jin deemed him clean, and was breathing harshly when he woke 10 hours later. Jin wanted to feel relief, to feel that they were finally safe, but as he, Joon and Hobi went out to make some quick money the next morning, half delirious with exhaustion, he heard more news at the market of people dying from the illness. Then Hobi began coughing, and Jin realised that they weren’t safe at all. There was a killer still stalking the streets, and it was invisible.

Two days later, with Hobi tucked into bed beside the others, his neck swollen and his fever spiking, Yoongi looking ever worse for wear, Jin called for a doctor. He knew they couldn’t afford it, but he also knew he had no choice.

The doctor looked over the children sympathetically, giving Jin vapours that would help them breathe more easily. “It’s some kind of croup,” he told Jin. “They seem to have a milder strain than some of the others I’ve seen, but there is no cure. My experience is that there is an outcome, one way or another, within seven to ten days. They should stay in bed and not exert themselves.”

Jin could have screamed at him, but handed his fee over and used the vapours liberally, hoping that if the illness was something in the air then the vapours would fight it. He kept Joon and Jungkook out of the room with even more determination, doing everything himself for the sick children.

Jimin and Tae began to recover first. Jin noticed an improvement in symptoms and dared to hope. Then gradually Hobi and Yoongi both began to show some positive progress. Jin had no idea if it was because of the vapours or if their own bodies had fought the illness off. Jin thought of the young woman who had helped him escape Master Lee and wondered how many relatives and friends she would have lost by the time the illness passed through the city.

One evening, a couple of days later, Namjoon was out doing Hobi’s work of cleaning out the bakery ovens. The other four were all asleep in bed, but looking far better. Jin suspected that Tae and Jimin would be demanding to get back on their feet tomorrow. They’d fidgeted enough through the day and eaten heartily, barely coughing, chatting away like their usual selves. The grey membrane was gone from their throats. Yoongi and Hobi were a few days behind, but Jin felt confident that they were all going to recover.

It would be too late. Jin stared down at the money on the floor in front of him. Rent was due tomorrow. Jin had already asked the Cobbler if they could have an extension, but the Cobbler’s sister’s family were all bed-ridden with the illness and he had the doctor attending regularly. He needed the money. “I had someone asking the other day about my spare room,” he told Jin. “I told them I already have tenants, but I’ll have to fetch them back if you can’t pay up. I’m sorry, son. I’ve got to look after my own first.”

Jin understood. He also understood that he didn’t have anywhere near enough money to pay the rent. He and Namjoon, and Hobi before he’d taken ill, had slogged hard. But Jin had wasted so much money on the doctor, and now that the invalids’ appetites had been returning, he couldn’t bear to give them scraps. They needed the nourishment. He had bought food. In order to care for the others, he hadn’t been able to go out to earn a lot. His whole body felt worn. He slowly counted the coins in a defeated way, praying that there could be some kind of miracle and that they would multiply. He had lied to Yoongi and told him they had enough, terrified that Yoongi might rush out of bed again and set his health back. Only he and Namjoon knew. Namjoon had cautiously mentioned it this afternoon, and Jin had lied to him too, and told him the Cobbler was giving them an extension.

He didn’t want them to worry like he was worrying. All day he’d cursed himself for giving Moon the orphanage pocket watch. It might have been worth something, it might have been enough for rent. And Jin, silly nostalgic Jin had thought that it was meaningful to pass on the watch to someone who didn’t even like him. What if that move had cost them their home? What if they had to live on the streets? What if the illness picked them up again, choked them, and spat them out? A few dead orphans meant nothing.

There were no other options. Jin knew what he had to do tomorrow, and he hated himself for it the moment he’d thought of it. But it was the only real way to get money quickly. And they had to have the money.

Jungkook was sitting in between Jin’s legs, drinking his milk from the can, Jin gently tipping it to make sure that the toddler didn’t spill too much. Jungkook’s little hands held the sides of the can and Jin stroked his soft hair as he felt misery twist in his gut.

“It shouldn’t have come to this,” he whispered to Jungkook, knowing that the baby couldn’t understand him, but grateful to speak to someone. “It’s such a horrible decision to make. I hate myself for it already.”

Jungkook finished his drink and beamed up at Jin, milk on his upper lip. Through his tears, Jin wiped it off with the pad of his thumb, staring into the baby’s big open eyes.

What would you do? He thought. What would you do it you were in my shoes? Would you do it?

“Don’t be sad, Din,” Jungkook counselled, frowning slightly at Jin’s expression. “Kookie make smile.”

Jin did smile, through the tears that tripped down his face as Jungkook carefully stood up and squished Jin’s cheeks in his baby hands, trying to push the corners of Jin’s mouth up.

“I love you,” he told Jungkook.

“Love you,” Jungkook repeated cheerfully, quickly becoming distracted by Jin’s nose and reaching to play with it instead.

Jin steadied the toddler with a hand on either side, wishing he could have Jungkook’s innocent bliss for just a minute, knowing that his mind was made up. He had no other choice.

Chapter Text

Jin decided to take Jungkook with him, it seemed the proper thing to do. First they went to purchase milk by the park with Tae and Jimin, the first group outing since the night Master Lee died. Jimin and Tae watched the cow being milked with awe, while Jungkook sneakily tried to make a grab for the cow’s tail.

“Does it hurt?” Jimin asked, his eyes wide as saucers as thick white milk squirted into their can.

“I don’t think so,” Jin tried to fish coins out and catch his wayward toddler at the same time. His mind was on what he was about to do, guilt gnawing at him.

“I’m glad,” Jimin said. “I hope it still has enough milk left for its babies.”

Jin blinked. He wished he had the mental energy and compassion to think of anyone or anything outside of his family. Instead, he was fixated on their survival, on not being thrown out onto the December streets tonight.

Tae wanted to feed Jungkook his milk and Jin let him. Jungkook, having learned to hold the can up by himself, was less keen on assistance, and kept nudging Tae’s hand out of the way to improve his own grip. Fortunately Jimin prevented the can spilling, and Jin let him and Tae finish the drink off.

“Don’t stay out too long, remember you’re still recovering,” he warned the two, glad that they were wrapped up in their coats and woollen hats. Tae and Jimin had insisted on going to visit Byung-Woo’s brother and his family, and Jin had made them promise to take Namjoon with them and bring back something to eat with Hobi and Yoongi afterwards.

“See you later!” Jimin hugged Jin, his cheeks rosy and his smile broad. Jin felt a little bit of his guilt release at seeing Jimin so well again. Tae’s recovery seemed slightly slower, and he hugged with less strength, but he was also getting his colour back. Both boys planted kisses on Jungkook, something they’d been doing all morning since they were properly reunited. Jungkook laughed and waved at them from his perch on Jin’s hip as they zig-zagged their way down the street, chasing each other, their breath coming out in puffs, enjoying their freedom.

Then it was just the two of them, and Jin knew it was time to get it over with.

Half-way along the route, Jungkook decided he wanted to walk and wriggled in Jin’s arms till he was put on his feet. Jin was cautious at first, ready to snatch Jungkook up at the mere sight of a carriage in the distance or ice on the road, walking half-stooped so he could grab Jungkook’s collar if he broke into a sprint. But perhaps their performances had been good practice for the baby, because he walked at a measured pace, only really wobbling when he looked up to check Jin was still there. Jin couldn’t help but marvel that those once useless little legs, which could only fidget and kick were now supporting Jungkook’s entire frame. His bow-legged jaunt was still endearing, and more than one passerby fought to suppress a smile at the sight of such a small figure walking of his own accord.

Jin knew he was doing wrong by Jungkook. It was hard, because there were other options. Like theft, like prostitution. Crime. But it would be an insult to everything they’d sacrificed and worked for, and Jin didn’t think he had the strength nor the weakness to attempt it. Even if he was successful, they needed three-quarters of the rent by tonight, and he doubted crime could pay so quickly. After all, most of the town’s criminals were living in the very slums he was trying to avoid. Jin’s choice was the only one, but he wished desperately that there was another.

He’d always wondered about his parents. What they looked like, how old they were, whose features he’d inherited. Whether one or both might still be living. Whether they were ever married. Whether he had siblings. Whether they’d meant to leave him in the back street he’d been found in, or whether they’d loved him and lost him, and were thinking about him as hard as he thought about them.

He would have given anything for a connection to them. A clue. For something as simple as their names, or occupations, or to know how close they’d lived to the orphanage. He knew it was fruitless, that he would never know. But it didn’t the change the fact that they had been, that they’d had thoughts and feelings and experiences and lives. There were absolute truths about them which he’d spent endless hours of his childhood imagining. All the things he didn’t understand about himself were eternally locked up with them, a secret never to be revealed.

That was why it felt like a betrayal. But he had to believe, in his heart, that one day Jungkook would understand and forgive him.

As they drew near, Jungkook tired of walking and tugged on Jin’s trouser leg for a lift. Jin bent down for him, breathing in his comforting scent and allowing himself a wobbly smile as Jungkook tucked his head into his usual spot.

When they turned into the side street, Jin paused across the road by the gin shop, looking at the three spheres suspended from a wrought iron bar above the front door.

One of his favourite stories from Mishil was the one about the market stall with magical curiosities. She would describe each item in detail; from jewel-encrusted tiaras to exotic perfumes in colourful glass bottles, to plain wooden boxes that rattled mysteriously. Jin would drink in her tales each time she returned to the market stall. Sometimes the seller would spread out his wares, and Mishil would describe the outer appearance of each in turn, making Jin choose. Then she would reveal what his chosen article truly was. One night Jin was flying over the rooftops of their town, swerving to avoid birds, gliding through clouds. Another night he became rich as a king. Sometimes he chose wrongly, and was turned into a squirrel or a mouse, fighting to survive. When Jin knew the magical market stall was going to be the story for the night, he’d always felt a twist of thrill in his stomach.

Now, as he observed the dusty red-bricked building with packed windows, he prayed that this might be a magic shop. That just for once, Mishil, or God, or someone would make the stories real.

There was quite a queue inside the Pawnbrokers, and Jin joined the back. There were mostly women in front, wearing shabby clothes, chattering sombrely. The illness might have passed through most of town, but it had left gaping holes in families along the way. Jin relished the feeling of Jungkook snug in his arms, so grateful he’d been able to ward the illness off.

A young boy of about ten or eleven departed from the counter, a bundle of clothes in his arms. Jin watched curiously. The clothes were of decent quality, much better than the ones the lad wore. Perhaps the family had pawned their clothes earlier in the week and were collecting them on pay-day to have them ready for church. Jin wondered what the merits were in this since they surely had to pay interest. But it was a reassurance. If they didn’t make enough money now for the rent, he could also offer some of the good clothes they’d been gifted to tip it over the edge. “See? It’s all going to work out,” he told Jungkook, who had perked his head up to look around.

Jin imitated him, gazing around as their position in the queue improved. The Pawnbrokers’ interior was mostly wood: wooden floors, wooden walls, with a wooden counter separating staff and patrons, sectioned into booths, so that up to four people could be served at once. Most of the people in front of Jin appeared to be collecting pledged items. The queue wound serpentine around the shop floor, and already Jin and Jungkook had almost a dozen people behind them, only one or two of whom carried items to pawn. Jin supposed that most of these people were living on the breadline, but not in abject poverty. He wondered if any were dangerously close to dipping below that line like he was.

“Din,” Jungkook simultaneously whispered and tugged Jin’s ear.

“What is it, Kookie?” Jin murmured, still looking around. The windows had been full of trinkets, but locked wooden doors covered both on the interior. It was as if they were inside a giant box themselves, and Jin peered curiously at the gas lighting on the far walls.

Jungkook pointed, and Jin realised he was staring at the family directly behind him. He turned round to apologise for the toddler’s impoliteness, then realised what Jungkook was so fascinated by. The mother smiled at Jin warmly, her own toddler on her hip.

Jungkook tugged Jin’s ear again as if Jin might have missed it. “Baby,” he said breathlessly, staring in awe. Sometimes Jin forgot that Jungkook was always surrounded by people older than him. He smiled back at the mother, noting her summer bonnet in December, and her fading blue dress. “Yes, that’s a baby, Jungkook, do you want to say hello?”

The child was a few months younger than Jungkook, a girl, who stared back at Jungkook with solemn brown eyes, then burst into a gummy giggle. Jungkook reached out to touch her, and Jin had to rein him back to prevent the baby being splatted in the face. “You’ve to be a gentleman when you meet a lady!” He scolded Jungkook teasingly. “Here, give me your hand.”

The other baby looked puzzled as Jin drew Jungkook’s hand forward and gently pressed it against hers, lifting them together in a mock handshake. The mother laughed. “He’s beautiful, what’s his name?”

“Jungkook,” Jin said, quickly reeling Jungkook back in before he could make good on his original plan.

“Baby!” Jungkook said, trying to get the other baby’s attention. The baby laughed at him again, her whole face creasing up. Jungkook didn’t understand what the joke was and looked curiously up at Jin.

“Can you say ‘hello?’” Jin prompted.

“’Elo,” Jungkook said absently, still trying to figure out his counterpart. He scrunched his hand open and closed in a wave. The baby girl clapped her hands in amusement. Figuring out that this was their means of communication, Jungkook began clapping his own hands. Soon there was a stream of baby chatter running back and forth, and a whole lot of clapping.

“I think she’s teaching him good manners,” Jin joked, as he and the mother watched fondly. Indeed, the other baby was taking the upper hand in the nonsense chat, and Jungkook had a face of absolute concentration as he listened.

Then he heard more of the queue being called forward and shuffled up. They were second and third respectively now.

“I was ashamed to come in here,” the mother admitted to Jin in a low voice. “I know many aren’t, because they’re used to it, but this is my first time. Watching Mi Cha and Jungkook reminds me why it’s worth it.”

Jin felt like his own decision was being validated. “I agree,” he said softly. “I hope you get what you came for.”

The mother nodded. “And you. We can face any hardship if it means getting to see them grow up.”

“Next!” the clerk at the desk called, and suddenly Jin was at the front of the queue.

“Thank you,” he said honestly. “I needed to hear that today.” The woman on the far right was departing from her booth, and Jin hoisted Jungkook more securely in his arms. “Say bye, Jungkook.”

“Bye-bye baby,” Jungkook said obediently, pulling out his signature hand squeezing wave. Little Mi Cha just clapped her hands again and babbled in response.

“Next!”

Jin shot one more smile at the mother and daughter and hurried to his booth.

The man on the other side of the desk wore a uniform and had a face engulfed by a rather large manicured moustache. Jin set Jungkook up on the edge of the counter with his back against the booth wall, holding a hand on his stomach to make sure he didn’t fall off.

“Good morning, Sir,” he said respectfully.

“Good morning. Name please,” the worker glanced at them both then looked down at the ledger in front of him, dipping his quill in ink.

Jin told him. The orphanage hadn’t assigned surnames, so unless a child already came with one, like Namjoon had, then they ended up with very short names indeed. The worker didn’t react to this though, and moved onto his second question. “You have something you would like to pawn?”

Jin had it in his pocket. “Yes sir.”

“And it’s your own property?”

“Yes sir.” Well, it was Jungkook’s, so it was mostly true.

“And where do you reside?”

“At the Cobblers, above the shop. It’s on-”

“I know where it is,” the worker barely looked up at him, scrawling away feverishly. “And I assume you are a lodger?”

“Yes, sir.” It all seemed so clinical. Jin supposed it had to be.

Finally, Moustache looked up. “And where is the item you would like to pawn?”

Jin’s heart began thudding. He glanced at Jungkook once more, then dug into his pocket. “It’s here.”

“Ah, gold.” Moustache said, looking more interested, as he held out his hand and Jin reluctantly passed it over.

“It’s gold?” Jin had always wondered, but never been sure.

“It’s certainly gold,” Moustache frowned at Jin as if he should know, turning Mishil’s wedding ring round in his meaty fingers. “You did say this belongs to you?”

“Yes sir.” Jin swallowed as Jungkook caught sight of the ring and reached out as if he might like to play with it too. He stroked Jungkook’s cheek to distract him, perhaps to distract himself from what he was doing.

He still had the lock of Mishil’s hair. He would still be able to give that to Jungkook when he was older. But the ring was everything. It was the only link Jungkook would have to his father. It was the reason Jungkook existed in the first place. It was something Jin had imagined Jungkook would wear when he was older, perhaps the ring he would even propose with one day. And Jin was giving it up.

“There’s some engraving on the inside,” Moustache said, trying to hold it up to the light.

Jin nodded. “I think it’s Latin, I’m not sure.” He didn’t know if that would make the ring more or less valuable.

Moustache peered at it closer, then pulled out a magnifying glass to see the words more clearly. Jungkook gaped at the glass and Jin almost smiled, wondering what he was seeing from his angle. Probably an even bigger moustache.

“I’ll need to get the owner to price this,” Moustache said abruptly, and walked away with the ring. Jin almost panicked. What if he didn’t come back? What if he pretended Jin hadn’t handed him a ring at all? He pushed the ledger out of Jungkook’s reach to stop him smearing the ink.

Another man returned to Jin’s booth a few minutes later. He looked like a gentleman, with fine clothes and combed grey hair. He shook Jin’s hand, and Jin was relieved to see the ring in the other. “Good morning, young man. I’m the Pawnbroker. My man has just shown me your ring. I think you’ll be glad to know its worth a considerable sum.”

“It is?” Jin almost squeaked. “How much?”

The Pawnbroker smiled at him. One of his teeth appeared to be gold, and Jin wondered how wealthy he was. “That would be the difficulty. I’ve telegraphed for a specialist to come in and give me an accurate estimate. He lives just out of town, so it could be a few hours before he gets here.”

“You want us to come back?” Jin still couldn’t get the words out of his head. Considerable sum. Considerable sum. He hardly dared to believe it could be true.

“No, not at all,” the Pawnbroker said. “Please, come into my office. There’s a door at the far end of the waiting area, I’ll unlock it for you now and let you in.”

Equally giddy and guilty, Jin took Jungkook and did as he was bidden. “How much do you think it could be worth?” He asked, as the Pawnbroker opened the door to let them slip through, before bolting it again. “I appreciate you can’t say precisely.”

The Pawnbroker led them down past the workers on the other side of the booths and down a wooden corridor, swinging his office door open to let them in.

“If I say a figure, I want you to be aware that it may change subject to the specialist’s opinion,” he warned.

Jin nodded.

The Pawnbroker told him a sum which was between five and six weeks’ worth of rent. Jin’s jaw staggered and fell. Jungkook grabbed some blotting paper from the writing desk they were seated beside and tried to push it into Jin’s mouth. Jin disarmed him, barely able to process the information. They would all be up and working again within a few days. Even if illness should occur again through the winter they would have plenty, they would be ahead. Maybe there were a few little things they could buy; treats for the kids, a new book for Namjoon… his mind was running ahead of itself, almost tripping as he contemplated the relief before him.

“I would caution you not to dwell on it until the specialist arrives,” the Pawnbroker warned.

Jin nodded fervently. “And in the meantime?”

“Well, I have to return to the shop floor,” the Pawnbroker said. “But I’ll have an employee bring you tea and something to eat. Then I have something in mind that I think you might like to see.”

Jin thanked him. As soon as he was left alone in the Pawnbroker’s office he jumped to his feet and swung Jungkook round in joy. Jungkook gave a shriek of delight.

“You saved us!” Jin told him, planting kisses all over Jungkook’s face, making him giggle. “My little hero. You saved all your Hyungs. We’re going to be okay!”

“Din!” Jungkook laughed.

“Oh, I can’t wait to tell them.” Jin sank back into his seat. “Can you imagine their faces?”

Jungkook grinned at him naively, and Jin hugged him closer.

A young woman, who introduced herself as the Pawnbroker’s daughter, brought hot tea, milk, fruitcake and bread and jam. Jin regarded the feast in surprise, at first intending to package most of it up to take home, then realising that for once, for the first time perhaps, he could allow himself this one luxury. He attacked the food with gusto, letting Jungkook drink some of the milk and giving him small pieces of food to eat. Jungkook adored their tea party for two, and kept trying to feed Jin. Some of the time Jin let him. Other times he cajoled Jungkook into placing the food in his own mouth.

Jin couldn’t remember the last time he’d felt full. The weight of his stomach pressed on all his other organs, beautifully uncomfortable. He held Jungkook close on the Pawnbroker’s soft chair and felt his exhausted eyes slip shut.

When he woke, he needed to use the toilet and Jungkook needed a diaper change.

“I think I’d better head home and come back,” he told the young woman, as he sought her out to explain the predicament.

“We have clean cotton cloth available,” the young woman said. “I’ll fetch you some. And there are indoor toilet facilities before we reach the warehouse.”

“The warehouse?”

The young woman smiled. “Father thought you might like a look.”

A short while later, Jin was standing in a large room, as large as the open floor of the carpet factory back at the orphanage. He gazed around in something akin to wonder.

“Father says you’re free to explore while you’re waiting,” the young woman said.

Jin set the newly diapered Jungkook on his feet and held onto his hand. “Will we explore, baby?”

The pawnbroker’s warehouse was attached to the back of the shop and was full to the brim. There were all sorts of workman’s tools, china cups, silverware, prayer books, chess sets, snuff boxes, handkerchiefs, vases, fiddles, blankets and clothes of all description. There were chairs and tables and gilded Bibles, and flutes and sheets and clocks and walking sticks and parasols. Light shone on them from windows high in the walls. It was like a treasure trove. Jin wondered why the Pawnbroker would trust him in here and supposed that he would get a pat down before he left.

He wished the others were with him as he peered curiously at all the unusual items; the paintings and ornaments, model ships and ivory dentures and items which told stories about their previous owners.

Jungkook was tugging at his hand. He had spotted a gentleman’s top hat and Jin let himself be dragged over to it. Jungkook reached up on his tip toes to lift it from the tall stool it was perched on, gabbling excitedly. He looked inside it to check if there was any money and Jin stifled a laugh. Then Jungkook motioned to him, and Jin bent down on one knee as if he was being knighted. Jungkook’s little tongue poked out in concentration as he placed the hat on Jin’s head. Jin helped him tug it on. Jungkook beamed and kept walking, singing nonsense as if they were at one of their performances.

“Are you coming for my job?” Jin teased, making sure to not let the toddler wander too far ahead in case something sharp or dangerous was in the offing. “I think you’ll find you’re the backup dancer, mister.”

Jungkook sang anyway. It wasn’t quite in tune, but Jin loved hearing his happy voice.

Jungkook stopped and wobbled as they rounded a corner. “Din!” He said, pointing.

“It’s a rocking horse!” Jin had never seen one before. It was quite beautiful, with gleaming dark mahogany and real hair coming from its mane. There was a step to get up into the saddle, and as Jungkook approached it was clear it was designed for children rather bigger than he was.

“Here we go!” Jin hoisted him up into the saddle. Jungkook’s legs were too short to reach the stirrups but he pressed his fists into the horse’s hair, and then looked at Jin with his big doe eyes, as if to ask what came next.

“Give him a ride,” Jin prompted, giving the horse a gentle push. Jungkook was momentarily startled, then seemed to understand the motion and pushed his body forward and back in time with Jin’s pushing. Jin kept a steady hand on his back just in case, which proved to be wise as Jungkook decided to applaud his transport and would have slid right off.

They spent a while at the rocking horse, as Jin knew the likelihood of Jungkook getting to try one again in his lifetime was slim. He sorely wished he could grant Jungkook joys like this all the time, seeing him endlessly happy. Eventually, Jungkook tired from the exercise and held his arms up. Jin lifted him back onto the ground and had to catch him again as Jungkook almost fell, his motion all confused.

“How about Jin be your horse for now?” He said, popping Jungkook back on his hip.

He poked and prodded at a few items, the news about their incoming money aiding the fantasy of what he would do if he owned this warehouse, and if these were all his things. Jungkook was getting tired and was grousing into Jin’s shoulder as he tried to settle in for a nap, and Jin wondered how much time had passed since the specialist had been sent for. He supposed none of the clocks or watches in the warehouse were accurately wound up because they all told different times, and there was a distinct lack of ticking and movement in many. He decided to make his way out of the warehouse to find out what was happening.

On the way, he found the mirror. It was a full length mirror on a stand. Jin jolted in fright when he caught sight of a young man suddenly appearing from nowhere before he recognised himself. His jolt woke Jungkook up and Jin spent the next three minutes soothing the overwrought little one, and wiping his little pink cheeks dry. Jungkook settled down sufficiently, and Jin turned back to the mirror.

He’d seen himself in the tiny dirty bathroom mirror back at the orphanage. He’d even seen himself in the photographs that the businessman from the city had commissioned. But he’d never been able to look at himself up and down, to examine each angle of his face and body, to watch himself in motion. He was handsome he supposed, but his upper lip was too full and he wished he had a stronger chin. His shoulders, however, he liked.

“Kookie!” He said, unable to resist.

Jungkook shot him a dirty look, clearly trying to get back to sleep.

“Come on, have a look,” Jin said, “over here.”

Jungkook followed Jin’s waving fingers and gasped, his little head popping up off Jin’s chest. “Baby!” He said breathlessly.

“That’s you,” Jin told him. “Look, wave to Jungkook!”

Jungkook had become distracted by the other figure in the mirror. “Din!” He cried out and held his arms out to the image of Jin before him. When the other Jin didn’t make a move to take him, but held the other baby, he looked up to see whose arms he was in. “Din?” He asked cautiously.

Jin didn’t know how to laugh or cry. “You’re the sweetest thing,” he told Jungkook. “Look, its us! You can see yourself!”

Jungkook frowned at the other Jungkook, clearly unconvinced.

“Say hello.” Jin prompted him.

“Bye-bye,” Jungkook scrunched his hand at the other baby. Jin laughed, “okay, I get the message.”

Still, he lingered for just a moment more, trying to photograph them in his mind, knowing that this what everyone else saw when they looked at them. Jungkook snuggled back in for a sleep, and Jin rocked him gently, stroking the back of his neck, and staring into his own eyes one more time.

When he reached the warehouse door, he found it was sticking. With Jungkook in one arm, he yanked on the handle with his free hand, trying to not disturb his baby for a second time. It wouldn’t budge. Not wanting to put Jungkook down to try with both hands, Jin rapped on the door instead.

There were thirty seconds in which seeds of doubt and suspicion began to grow then he felt the scrape of a bolt being drawn back and the Pawnbroker’s daughter appeared at the door again to welcome him out.

“Did you lock us in?” Jin accused nervously.

“There’s a lot of expensive stuff in there,” she replied airily. “We always keep it locked.”

“Do you know what time it is? Is there any news from the specialist?” He asked.

“It’s around two in the afternoon,” she replied. “And yes, I was going to call for you in a few minutes. He’s looking at the ring now.”

Finally. Jin followed her back to the Pawnbroker’s office eagerly. The Pawnbroker sat across from them and the specialist across from him. The specialist looked up at Jin and Jungkook as they arrived. He wore a high double-breasted waistcoat over a white shirt and black tie. The top of his bald head shone as brightly as his shoes. His eyes were glittering, and Jin hesitated in the door way, taken aback by someone who could be so overcome by gold.

“The ring is yours?” the specialist said.

“Yes, sir.” Jin nodded. It seemed to rude to push about the money, when the poor fellow was almost overcome, so he waited, hoping that the Pawnbroker would bring it up.

“It’s…worth a great deal.” The specialist said.

“More than the Pawnbroker estimated?” Jin could help but feel anxious. They did believe it was his, didn’t they? If it was so very valuable would they call the police? After all, Jin didn’t know how Mishil’s young marketplace suitor had come by it. He could have stolen it. He could have worked with Toshers like Yoongi had and found it that way. It could have been gifted to him by someone else. There were so many options and Jin didn’t want the one which ended with him being hauled before the constables for possession of stolen property.

The specialist ran it through his fingers again, rubbing the smooth edges with the pad on his thumb. His gloves lay across his knee. “My master will give you a better price than any Jewellers or Pawnbrokers in the county. He’s been looking for something specific, and this fits precisely what he’s been looking for.”

“How much will he pay?” Jin asked, wishing that he could just have the money in hand and be done with it. He didn’t want to be constantly reminded that he was letting Jungkook down.

“I’ll take you to him,” the specialist said. “It’s less than an hour by carriage.”

“You can’t make the transaction here?” Jin glanced from one to the other, settling on the Pawnbroker. “If you’d give me the price you estimated earlier I’d be happy to give you the ring to negotiate with the gentleman.”

The Pawnbroker shook his head. “You need the money, lad, I can see that. Go and make the most that you can. You’ll be home in two hours richer than you’ve ever been in your life.”

Jin felt dazed. He had time, didn’t he? If he got in, got the money, got out and got back home he’d have plenty of time to pay the Cobbler and get dinner ready. He thought of Yoongi’s face when he saw so much money, the way Tae and Jimin would bounce on the bed and Hobi and Namjoon’s delighted disbelief.

“Alright,” he said. “Thank you for your hospitality, Sir.”

“Not at all, young man.” The Pawnbroker said, rising to shake Jin’s hand.

Jin followed the specialist warily, as he was led outside and towards a horse and carriage. He and Jungkook were moderately clean, but he still felt like he was dirtying up the interior as he stepped in and sank back in one of the plush dark green leather seats. Jungkook shifted in his lap, still snoozing, and Jin stared out of the window, watching the specialist direct their driver to go then watching the streets clatter past as they sprayed up mud in their wake.

“My name is Injung,” the specialist said. “May I ask your names?”

“I’m Jin, and this is Jungkook,” Jin replied.

Injung nodded and dug into his trouser pocket to wipe his eyes with his handkerchief. “You’ll forgive me,” he said. “I recently lost someone, and I fear I haven’t recovered from the bereavement. It’s very unprofessional of me.”

“Oh not at all!” Jin’s eyes widened in sympathy. Now all the emotion made more sense. “Was it the illness?” He asked carefully.

“Oh no, it was before the illness,” Injung said. “In my experience, the older you get the harder these things are to take.”

Jin supposed he was in his forties. He wondered if it was a child he‘d lost. He could see Injung’s eyes flicker from the window to Jungkook every so often, and he almost wanted to offer Injung the chance to hold him if it would help, but he knew waking Jungkook halfway through a nap would result in a very grumpy Jungkook indeed.

They soon left the town and Jin felt the cold breeze stream over his face and ruffle his hair as he stared out at luscious green fields capped with frost, stretching out for miles. He marvelled at the interior of the carriage, trying not to look like he was marvelling. He wondered about Injung, but didn’t want to pry. Was he the specialist? Or was the Master the specialist and Injung had just been told what kind of gold or what kind of jewellery to look out for?

It was Injung who eventually broke the silence. “I don’t want to be indelicate,” he asked. “But you don’t have parents?”

Jin shook his head. “We’re orphans, sir. There’s seven of us.”

“And how did you come by the ring?”

“It belonged to my friend,” Jin said. “She passed away.”

Injung nodded, “I see. It’s a rare piece. One of its kind.”

“Do you know what the writing inside says?” Jin asked.

“I do indeed. It’s Latin. Hic manebimus optime.”

“What does it mean?”

Injung smiled sadly. “Essentially it means ‘here we’ll stay.’”

“I wonder what that meant,” Jin said. “To the person who had the ring engraved, I mean.”

“I believe it meant something different to the one who commissioned the engraving,” Injung said, taking the ring back out and gazing at the words. “After all, the ring didn’t stay, and neither has its owner.”

“And now it will belong to your master,” Jin nodded. “You do believe he’ll want it? I only ask because I have to pay rent tonight, and I can’t go back empty handed.”

“He’ll buy it,” Injung nodded. “And if he didn’t, I would."

“What makes it so special?” Jin asked. “Is it the type of gold? Is it the engraving?”

“I’ll show you,” Injung said. “When we get to the house.”

Jin realised the carriage was slowing. He gazed out. Tall gates were being drawn back to allow the carriage to proceed.

“There are my master’s grounds,” Injung said by explanation. Jin stared out at the fir trees, at the curved lawns and rounded hedges, barely able to take in the vastness of the land.

“It must look so beautiful in the summer,” he breathed.

“I think it looks best when the snow falls,” Injung nodded. “There is a perfect clean white layer across everything, like white icing. In my free time I love to take a walk in the grounds.”

“So you live here too?” Jin couldn’t help but crane his neck out to see where they were going.

“I have a cottage in the grounds. Just here.” Injung pointed. “It’s small, but more than satisfactory.”

Jin looked and saw a beautiful little thatched cottage with golden-brown stonework and white frames round the windows.

“And in a moment, you’ll see the master’s home.” Injung said. “It’s quite something to see for the first time.”

He was right. Jin was agape as he caught sight of the stately home. The gardens all seemed to wind towards it, and it stood grand, with endless windows and turretts on the roof and roman pillars above the front double door. As they drew closer it only grew in size and Jin felt smaller.

When the carriage ground to a halt, a footman dashed forward with a box, and Injung hopped out and held the door open for Jin and Jungkook. Jin moved carefully, trying not to jostle Jungkook awake, and stepped gingerly from the box to the ground. Injung wasted no time leading him up the double stairs, past the servants holding the door open, and into the front lobby. Jin stared, mute. The floor was marble, the ceilings were high and intricately painted. Portraits lined the downstairs lobby and two carpeted staircases led up to the upper level. Ahead of them ran an open corridor lined with white statues and luxurious armchairs. It was the most beautiful and humbling place he’d ever seen.

“I’ll tell the Master you’ve arrived. Please wait here.” Injung said, casting a glance back at one of the servants who was stationed near the door, as he twisted his gloves and hat off.

Jin nodded. Injung seemed very anxious. In fact, as he stood in the empty entrance hall, he realised that they’d all acted strangely. The Pawnbroker, his daughter, even Moustache who’d almost ignored Jin at first and then left so abruptly. He paced around slowly as Jungkook slept against his shoulder, hearing his feet tap hollow on the floor, puzzling it over.

He admired the portraits. The biggest painting was of a woman, beautiful, her hair piled up on top of her head, in pink silk, her dignity shining through her gaze. Perhaps this was the master’s wife. Jin wondered if she might be dead, Injung hadn’t mentioned her.

There were others, of both men and women, Jin wasn’t much of a judge of art, but imagined from the clothes that some of them were much older. He worked his way round till his attention was caught by the portrait that sat in the centre, hanging on the wall just below the balcony of the stairs above Jin’s head.

It was a young man, about eighteen, staring down at him in a brown coat and a constrictive white shirt, his black tie just a little askew and his face full of secret mischief.

Jin had a sensation that he was floating outside of his own body, watching himself standing there in that hollow empty room, watching himself stare up at the young man, while the young man laughed down at him, silently mocking him. The young man with midnight hair, a slight hook in his nose, a scar on his left cheek, a gold ring on his finger and galaxies in his eyes.

Standing there, Jin felt his whole world crumble around him.

Chapter Text

Every nerve in Jin’s body told him to run. He knew that he couldn’t. If he were somehow to pass the servants at the front door, he’d have to reach the front gates before someone hopped onto a horse and overtook him, then somehow get over said gates without being caught, then make a journey which had taken forty-five minutes by carriage, all before they sent a telegram to the Pawnbroker to intercept him. The Pawnbroker even had his address, because Jin had stupidly given it to him.

They had intended to trap him and then they had ensured it.

He could feel his knees buckling, and he readjusted his grip on Jungkook as he slowly lowered them both to the cool marble floor, still staring up at that face. It wasn’t just Mishil’s description that he recognised. He could see Jungkook in that face.

“Din?” Jungkook mumbled sleepily.

Jin wished he’d done everything Master Lee wanted from the start.

“I love you,” he whispered, his voice cracking, feeling tiny in the vast hollow entrance space.

Jungkook creased his eyes and yawned, reaching up to paw his nose. Jin tried not to take things for granted, he really did. But he’d known that he’d have Jungkook forever. One of his few certainties had been a lie all along.

He heard footsteps coming up the corridor, and he felt that impulse to run to again. Jungkook scrunched his nose and popped his head up to look around. Jin couldn’t look away from the portrait and those unfathomable brown eyes. Please.

Injung’s nervous smile dropped immediately when he saw Jin with his legs sprawled on the floor and despair in his face. “Well, I suppose you know why my master had you brought here,” he glanced up at the portrait regretfully, wringing his hands.

You can’t have him Jin thought, but the words plugged in his throat.

Injung cast a glance behind him. “The master’s on his way. I swear we mean you no harm.”

Jin could hear a tap and shuffle, tap and shuffle, echoing in the corridor, filling it out.

“Din,” Jungkook complained with a wriggle, and Jin realised he was holding him too tightly. “Stay, sweetheart,” he whispered, his words drowned out by the tap and shuffle, making concentrated effort to ease his grip. Jungkook twisted round to frown at Injung, then returned to Jin, patting his face. Jin held on to his waist like he was glass.

Tap and shuffle, tap and shuffle, tap and shuffle.

“Master,” Injung dipped his head respectfully, stepping back.

The first thing Jin saw was the hickory walking cane with the gold carved handle. The hand curled around it wore gold rings, and then Injung’s master was standing before him.

He was in his fifties, wearing a pristine white shirt with a black satin cravat and dark green velvet waistcoat. He had sharp eyes and thin lips and he moved with authority. He stopped still when he saw them, his eyes darting to Jungkook.

There was a potent silence and Jin held his breath, his eyes flickering between the man and the youth in the portrait, noting similarities.

Injung’s master did not need any such reference. “Jeongguk,” he exhaled, his eyes fixed on the toddler, and if there had been doubts, now they were eviscerated. Mishil had named Jungkook after his father.

Injung wiped his pink eyes with a handkerchief again. The master thrust his cane towards Injung and with difficulty dropped to a crouch, holding his arms out to Jungkook. “Come, child.”

No Jin thought, and Jungkook must have sensed his fear, because he laid his head on Jin’s chest, looking at the rich gentleman with consternation.

“I am your papa,” Injung’s master told Jungkook with some desperation in his voice, then appeared to notice Jin for the first time. “Give me my grandson, young man.”

“He’s not used to being held by strangers,” Jin stuttered out. Everything was moving too fast. He felt the eyes of every portrait upon him, round and round the room, pinning him in place.

“Master,” Injung said hesitantly, “if I may, your purpose would be best served in the drawing room, away from prying eyes. This young man is called Jin, and he deserves an explanation.”

“I would like an explanation as to why he’s sitting on my floor,” the master grunted, still staring at Jungkook, clearly trying to connect with him. But reluctantly, he took the arm Injung proffered and hoisted himself upright. Jin unwillingly got to his feet too, though his limbs felt disconnected and wispy.

Injung held a door open, and his master tore his gaze away to lead the way in. Tap shuffle, tap shuffle. Jin glanced once more at the servants, silent sentinels at the front doors, and knew that all he could do was follow.

The drawing room was opulent, open curtains revealing broad windows overlooking the lawn, fire cheerful in the hearth, walls carved in white and gold, dark wooden doors and tables. Jungkook’s head swung back and forth, taking it all in, but Jin walked doggedly, a prisoner of war.

“Sit,” Injung’s master heaved himself down onto a honey coloured couch with gleaming walnut handles, gesturing with his cane to the one across. Jin swallowed and did as directed.

Injung crossed to one of the cabinets at the side of the fireplace, then stood at the side of his master’s sofa, something in his hands.

“You may as well sit, Injung,” his master beckoned. Jin understood. If the furniture was going to endure someone as low as Jin on it, it might as well accept the manservant too.

“Thank you, master.” Injung bowed again, and then perched himself alongside, clearly uncomfortable. “These are unusual circumstances for all of us,” he addressed Jin carefully. “Rest assured, we all have the child’s best interests at heart. You will not be harmed, and you may speak freely. For my part, Lord Jeon has instructed me to be his spokesman.”

“You’re going to take him away from me, aren’t you?” Jin whispered. He could feel his hands quaking.

Injung’s mouth opened and closed. “Jin, I apologise for the deception in bringing you here. As you can imagine, my master wanted to see both the ring and the child for himself before determining how to proceed. There is no doubt in our minds that Jungkook is my master’s grandson, and I believe you recognised Jeongguk’s portrait.”

Jin nodded stiffly.

“We want information from you,” Injung said cautiously. “Anything you can tell us about Jeongguk, or the child’s mother, how the ring came into your possession and about the circumstances of Jungkook’s birth. I understand that you feel at a disadvantage, and would like to set your mind at ease by telling you about the recent history of Lord Jeon’s family. I hope, in turn, that you’ll be willing to share what you know with us.”

Jin nodded again. What else was he to do? He had to know.

Injung relaxed with a sigh. “Good lad.”

“Din, book,” Jungkook said, pointing to the one resting on the table between them, and reached out for it.

“No, its not ours,” Jin tugged his arm back.

“Let him have it,” Lord Jeon contradicted, heaving forward to pluck the book from the table. “Do you like to read?” He asked Jungkook, pitching his voice and staring at the toddler winningly, dangling the book out to him.

Namjoon would have given his eye-teeth for a book like that. It looked about a hundred years old, still beautifully intact with worn gilded edges. Jungkook hesitantly reached out with both hands and took the book from Lord Jeon, and Lord Jeon smiled for the first time, his entire face transforming in that moment. It hurt Jin to watch.

Jungkook thumped the book with the back of his little hand, trying to imitate Yoongi at their performances. He looked up at Jin. “Happy, Din?”

“Happy, Kookie,” Jin lied, running his fingers through Jungkook’s hair, feeling oddly guilty under the duel gazes. Contently, Jungkook went back to the book. Usually Namjoon kept them out of his reach and Jungkook marvelled at the way it opened and closed. He was probably going to end up ripping it, but Jin would bet that Lord Jeon had hundreds of other books where this one came from.

“This is Jeongguk.” Injung said, handing a small portrait of an infant to Jin.

Jin accepted it, and gazed down at the toddler in the little sailor suit. The resemblance was almost uncanny.

“This was drawn eighteen years ago,” Injung said. “Jeongguk was my master’s only child, his older brother and sister having died in infancy. As you can imagine, he was the apple of his parents’ eyes. Indeed, the whole household adored him. If my master forgives me for saying so, I loved him like my own son.” His eyes filled up. “I didn’t believe I’d see his face again.”

At that point Jungkook realised he could tear the pages, and gasped as one came free in his hand. He looked up at Jin to check if he was in trouble. Jin opened his mouth to apologise, but it was left hanging as he realised he didn’t need to say sorry to a grandfather whose grandchild had destroyed their own property.

Jungkook promptly tried to stuff the loose page into Jin’s mouth. Jin couldn’t bring himself to scold him. He handed the photograph back to Injung, who held it reverentially. Jungkook ripped another page, gasped and giggled.

Injung continued. “Jeongguk was a quick-witted, free spirited child. He knew his own mind, and often that came at a cost. I had to scold him many times for a lack of propriety. He struggled with class distinction and fulfilling his responsibilities. As he became older this became of great concern for his parents. When he was seventeen he began to go out on the town, and wouldn’t return for days on end. He refused to say where he spent his time. Of course, we tried to rein him in, but it was too late. He continued in this pattern for some time, missing important engagements, often returning with his clothes dirtied and dishevelled and his hair unkempt. One day, when he was eighteen, he came home and-” he cast a nervous glance at his employer, whose expression was darkening. “He told his father that he had married.”

Lord Jeon’s jaw set, and he stared broodingly at the cream rug beneath their feet. Jungkook ripped another page and laughed at the sound. Jin saw the master’s eyes soften as he looked up again, watching the baby create confetti of his valuable reading material.

“Not only had he married, but he took great delight in telling us that the young woman had no lineage, no status, not a penny to her name. He intended to live with her in town. To our regret, the young master and Lord Jeon had an angry dispute-”

Lord Jeon snorted, and Jin supposed that was an understatement.

“We didn’t see him again. That was two years ago.” Injung continued. “We believe that he fell afoul of someone or something, but there was no sighting, no body recovered. We searched of course. Within a couple of weeks there were constables all over the district looking for him, but to no avail.”

“He might still be alive?” Jin ventured.

Injung shook his head. “It seems unlikely. Before Lady Jeon died, she confessed that she had arranged to meet Jeongguk’s wife a week after the dispute took place. Jeongguk was pleased, delighted even, to have his mother’s approval, but failed to keep the arrangement. We chose to grieve, we grieve still, but we clung to some small hope. The ring you brought to the Pawnbroker was a gift from Lord Jeon on the young master’s sixteenth birthday. It was intended to reconnect Jeongguk to his duties, to remind him of his place. With its engraving, it is highly recognisable. When Jeongguk went missing, Lord Jeon promised a reward and yearly stipend to every jewellers and pawnbrokers in the district, should such a ring reappear. That brings us to you.”

They both looked at Jin expectantly, Jin’s head reeled.

“Jungkook’s mother was Mishil,” he said. It felt so foreign to say her name in a place like this. “She was my friend. I was there when he was born. She died just after his birth. She told me the ring was their wedding ring. I don’t believe she knew he was wealthy, she didn’t say so. They met…they met at the local market.”

Lord Jeon’s eyes bulged.

“I believe she loved him,” Jin added lamely. “She met him weekly for months. He stopped coming before she discovered the pregnancy. Like you, she supposed he had died. That’s all I know.”

“Why did you decide to pawn the ring today?” Injung pressed. “You’ve clearly been in possession of it for some time.”

“We’re orphans,” Jin nodded. “We ran short of money to pay rent. I promise I didn’t do it lightly. The seven of us would have been out on the streets tonight otherwise.”

“You’ll be paid handsomely, don’t worry young man,” Lord Jeon dismissed. “You’ve brought my son’s ring and my grandson to me, and that deserves a reward. How much do you want?”

“How much?” Jin squeaked. “I don’t want money. I want Jungkook.”

“I beg your pardon?” Lord Jeon frowned as if he’d misheard.

“Sir, I’ve raised him,” Jin said, knowing how foolish he sounded. “He needs me. I need him.”

Lord Jeon was incredulous. “He’s an infant. In time, he’ll forget you.”

He was right, and Jin hated it. Jungkook would forget him, just as he would forget the orphanage. He would forget Yoongi and Hobi and Joon and Tae and Jimin. It would be as if all their love would be wiped out.

“I don’t want money,” he shook his head again, his whole body cold while Jungkook merrily destroyed more paper.

“This is my grandson and my ring,” Lord Jeon sat up straighter in his seat, looking Jin square in the eye, his dark eyebrows drawn in. “There is no exchange or bargain. I am willing to gift you money to thank you for your services to my child. Nothing more.”

“You need the money,” Injung added softly. “For the other children. You said so yourself. There’s no shame in taking it.”

Jin had known from the moment he saw Jeongguk’s portrait smirking down at him that this was the inevitable outcome.

“Please,” he appealed to Lord Jeon. “Please, at least let me take him to say goodbye to the other children. I won’t ask you for anything else. Please let them see him. I beg you.”

Lord Jeon looked inclined to refuse.

“I could return with Jungkook in two hours time, master.” Injung offered. “I will keep him safe, I swear on my life.”

Lord Jeon eyed Jin distrustfully. “And you will swear, on your honour, that you will hand him over to Injung and cause no trouble?”

“I swear,” Jin said, his insides quaking. “Thank you, Sir.”

They left the manor estate the way they’d come: by carriage. Jungkook had decided that he quite liked Injung, and although dread filled the pit of Jin’s stomach, he permitted Injung to bounce Jungkook on his knee while Jungkook gabbled cheerfully to him. He wanted to reduce Jungkook’s pending distress as much as possible. It was still hard to believe that this was real. He quashed thought after thought of fighting Injung and running. How could he deprive Jungkook of his own family, of the opportunity to eat well and have an education, and to be far away from the sickness infested streets? How selfish would he be to keep Jungkook when a far better life awaited him with his grandfather?

Even if he were so selfish, he was certain a man with Lord Jeon’s wealth and power would have him hunted down. And then the others would suffer even more. Jin couldn’t afford to think of his own feelings. He still had to care for five children whom he loved dearly. It didn’t matter that he felt himself hollowing out, becoming a shell even as he sat there. His feelings couldn’t matter.

“I’ll love him as I loved his father, I promise,” Injung said, at one point during their journey. “He shall want for nothing.”

Jin had nodded stiltedly.

When they arrived at the Cobblers, Jin didn’t think he could face them. He pushed the front door open, Jungkook on his hip and Injung following behind. “Watch out for the stairs,” he warned over her shoulder, his voice alien.

“Jin! You were ages!” Jimin appeared at the top of the stairs. “Are you coming to make dinner?”

“Yes,” Jin managed a reply. “But there’s someone you have to meet first.”

“Yoongi!” Jimin ran off, calling. “Jin’s brought a friend.”

“You live in this room?” Injung gazed around the kitchen. Jin wondered what he was thinking. Probably that he was so glad to get Jungkook out of this dump.

“No, we have a bedroom too,” he replied, as Tae bounced up to greet them. “Hey Jin, hey Kookie. When’s dinner? We’re hungry.”

Jin put his hand on Tae’s head. “We need to talk first, brat.”

“Something’s wrong,” Yoongi said, the moment he saw Injung behind Jin. “What did you do?”

Jin gulped. “Gather everyone on the bed, please.”

Jungkook made a beeline for Yoongi, having been separated from him for the longest. Yoongi gave one of his rare gummy smiles. “Hi baby,” he plopped him onto his lap. Jungkook snuggled in. “Yoogy,” he said happily, curling his fingers into Yoongi’s shirt.

“Would you like a…seat?” Jin supposed he should at least offer Injung the box to sit on.

“I prefer to stand. Thank you.” Injung said politely, his gaze casting over their frames and their shabby room.

“What do you have to tell us?” Namjoon asked curiously, side-eying Injung.

Jin looked round at the curious faces. Even Jungkook looked up at him curiously.

He was going to break their hearts.

“Jin?” Hobi ventured, forehead wrinkling. “What is it?”

Jin broke their hearts. He saw each emotion flicker on their faces as he told the tale of the ring and Mishil and Jeongguk and Lord Jeon. He saw the truth dawn on them one by one, and a cold set in that had never penetrated their tight warm circle before.

The others were stunned into shock. Yoongi looked Injung firmly in the eye and said, “you can’t take him.”

“We don’t have a choice,” Jin told him, before Injung could respond. “He has a parent now, who wants to love him and care for him and who is far, far richer than we’ll ever be. So many babies and toddlers died from the illness. It could be him next time. We have to do the right thing. I want you to pass him round one by one, and tell him that you love him and give him a cuddle. I know how much its hurts, but we’re doing this for him, okay?”

He could hardly watch as slowly Jungkook was handed from one to the other. He saw quivering hands and pale faces and utter disbelief at what was happening. Then finally he picked Jungkook up from Namjoon and placed him on his hip for the last time.

I’m going to be strong he told himself. I have to be. For them. We have nothing but each other left.

“I’ll walk you down to your carriage,” he told Injung.

Jungkook raised a hand and scrunched it open and closed towards Injung. “Bye bye,” he told Injung.

Jin broke down. A huge sob wracked through his body, and the floodgates opened. The pain was unimaginable. He felt the others rush from the bed and circle around them, heard them all weeping, and poor Jungkook, in the centre of it all put his chubby hands on Jin’s cheeks and rubbed at the tears. “Don’t be sad, baby boy.”

“You’re the baby boy,” Jin choked out between the snot and the crying, trying with all his might to smile at Jungkook as though it might last. “I’ll love you forever.”

“Me too,” Jimin piped up, his face flushed with tears.

“And me.” Tae said.

“We’ll never forget you, Kookie,” Namjoon said.

“Don’t forget us, okay?” Hobi added, touching the back of Jungkook’s head.

Yoongi said nothing, his heaves so loud that his whole body was quaking.

Jungkook looked round at them all and inevitably began to cry.

Jin held him close, tucking him into his body like he’d done hundreds of times before. “It’s okay, it’s okay sweetheart,” he gasped as his own face streamed. “It’s going to be okay.”

“I want you all to come with me.”

Jin spun round and looked at Injung. “What?”

Injung’s eyes were brimming over too, and he blew his nose noisily into the handkerchief. “Clean your faces and come with me. I can promise you nothing, only that I will try.”

Jin’s third ever carriage ride was perhaps the most surreal of them all. Jimin and Tae sat on the floor, Yoongi, Joon and Hobi on the opposite seat, while Jungkook sat on his lap beside Injung, his face tucked into Jin’s neck. No-one spoke. It was as if speaking would break the fragility of their situation. As if one word would destroy the unknown hope Injung was giving them.

The others stared and bunched together as they finally exited the carriage, intimidated by all they saw.

“This way,” Injung led them into the entrance hall and down the statue-lined hallway. Jimin and Tae almost fell behind, awed, but Hobi put a hand on both their backs and guided them forward.

“Please wait here,” Injung said, pausing behind a polished dark wood door. He knocked. Jin recognised Lord Jeon’s voice respond, and then Injung slipped inside.

“He’s going to ask Kookie’s grandad to let us keep Kookie, isn’t he?” Jimin tugged at Jin’s sleeve.

Jin shook his head. He didn’t have the energy for more. Namjoon wrapped an arm round Jimin and hugged him close. Hobi did the same to Tae. Yoongi stood cold and silent, his fingers trembling, looking like the illness was ready to consume him all over again.

They waited.

Then the door opened and Injung beckoned them. “Come in, please.”

They filed forward, into what Jin supposed was Lord Jeon’s study room. He heard an audible gasp from Namjoon at the sight of bookshelves lined floor to ceiling. In his peripheries he saw the others’ heads tossing back and forth, taking in the fire, the engravings, the dark golds and greens, and Lord Jeon himself, his body taut and brows drawn behind his writing desk.

“Sir,” Jin choked out, unsure of what to do next. Jungkook stayed curled into his front, clearly disturbed by Jin’s emotional outburst earlier.

“Injung tells that he has a request to make of me,” Lord Jeon frowned, dragging his eyes from Jungkook to look at each one. “Injung has served my family all of his life, he has worked faithfully and been paid well. He has never requested something for himself. This sudden impertinence is so out of character, that I have agreed to listen.”

Injung bowed anxiously, then bowed again for emphasis. “Lord Jeon, these past hours, my mind has been full of nothing but Jeongguk.”

Jin watched Lord Jeon’s own eyes suddenly gleam with tears and for the first time he felt something for the man. Jin had yearned to have parents his whole life. How much worse to have been a parent and to lose your child, to feel like you’d failed them, to keep searching with desperate hope, only to have your fears solidified that your child was lost forever. That was the burden Lord Jeon lived under.

Injung continued. “I know something of your pain, master, it sits in my heart too. It is an unbearable pain that I would never wish on another soul.” He turned and looked at Jin then. “It is pain that I was about to inflict on this young man.”

Jin felt nothing. He was empty. He felt Lord Jeon look at him too, look at him properly for the first time.

“It brings me such joy that you have a grandson, that there is another young master in the home,” Injung said. “I see Jeongguk in him. My greatest desire now is for his happiness.”

“And he shall have everything,” Jeon said. “He shall have toys, and maids and tutors and all the joys and luxuries available to him. He will be a golden child among his peers.”

“But he is already golden,” Injung said, raising his head an inch to look Lord Jeon straight in the eye. “He is happy, he is healthy and he wants for nothing. He is golden, and these children have made him so.”

Lord Jeon stared doubtfully at his manservant. “What is your request, Injung?”

“As I have already displayed great impudence, I feel less fear in doing so again,” Injung said, his shoulders back, his voice seemingly growing in strength, convinced in the absolute rightness of what he was saying. “I make this request to you, not on my behalf, but on Jeongguk’s. Let the orphan boys live with me in my cottage. I will employ them as staff, and they will be able to serve the young master and care for him. They are not educated, and they may not have the breeding and discipline of the servants you employ, but they have one thing to recommend them. These children love Jungkook, and Jungkook loves them. I believe they would die for him, just as I would die for Jeongguk if only I could. I can think of no-one better to take into employment.”

Then his head dropped into a bow, and he remained there, fixed, staring at the floor, awaiting his own judgement.

Lord Jeon’s face filled with many conflicting emotions, rendering him impenetrable.

“In forty years of loyal service, I have never heard you speak so.” He said slowly. “You truly intend to fit six growing children into your tiny cottage?”

Jin dared to hope.

Injung couldn’t raise his head. “I do, master, if you will permit it. It is a sacrifice I would make a hundred times over for Jeongguk’s son.”

Lord Jeon looked at Jungkook, drowsy in Jin’s arms, perfectly fitted into his usual spot. “You will teach him to love his papa?” He whispered suddenly, looking Jin straight in the eye.

“I will do everything in my power,” Jin whispered.

“Your cottage is too small,” Lord Jeon told Injung. “There are unused rooms near the servants quarters. You will have them ready for use by tonight.”

“Does this mean we get to stay?” Jimin piped up. “All of us?”

Lord Jeon nodded. “All of you.”

“Did you hear that Kookie?” Tae bounced up and down, unaffected by the restraint of his older Hyungs. “We’re staying!”

Jin felt Jungkook raise his head. “Tae Tae stay?” He asked curiously, trying to make sense of the statement.

“And Kookie stay!” Tae chirped.

“Din stay?” Jungkook asked cautiously.

“Yes, baby.” Jin said, looking at Injung and Lord Jeon with all the gratitude he could muster. “Jin stay.”

Epilogue

“Jin!”

Jin heard Jungkook’s cry from the front porch before his carriage had even ground to a halt. He hastened to his feet as Jungkook ran helter-skelter down the outdoor staircase, and barely had a foot on the driveway before Jungkook’s body flew through the air and cannoned into his.

Jin caught him with an “oof!” tucking his hands under Jungkook’s thighs as Jungkook locked his knees round Jin’s waist.

“You’re late!” Jungkook laughed as Jin swung him round, the days of being respectable in front of the servants long since past.

“The railway’s not as punctual as the newspapers would have you believe,” Jin blinked dizzily. “Let me set you down, my bones are getting too old for this.”

Jungkook held on like a limpet, his face tucking under Jin‘s chin. “Three weeks was too long,” he said firmly into Jin’s neck. “You mustn’t go again.”

Jin grinned. This was the longest they’d ever been apart, and he was secretly glad he hadn’t been replaced. He heaved the reluctant Jungkook back down onto his feet. “I’m thinking of going to Africa next.”

Jungkook’s face was scandalous. “You can’t! How will we manage without you?”

Jin cocked an eyebrow towards the manor. “The house is still standing, seems like you managed just fine. Are the others here yet?”

“Yes, they all arrived yesterday,” Jungkook dismissed quickly slipping his hand into Jin’s and turning him in the opposite direction. “Kyung-nam and Dong-woo will unpack your things, won’t you?” He smiled sweetly up at the servants who had been waiting patiently for direction.

“Yes young master,” the servants said in near-perfect unison, nodding to Jin to welcome him home. Jin grinned back, looking forward to catching up with them later. Jungkook tugged at Jin’s hand. “Come on, I have a surprise for you!”

Jin let himself be dragged. He might be exhausted from the journey, but his twelve year old was more important. “Where are we going?” He laughed, trying to keep up as Jungkook led him back in the general direction of the front entrance of the grounds.

“Be patient and see!” Jungkook grinned cheekily, his two endearing front teeth showing just a little more than the rest. He was truly growing into his father’s features; shooting up like a sprout, his limbs becoming lanky instead of soft and puppy fat beginning the retreat from his cheeks. The nose was still a work in progress, and his eyes were endless child-like saucers, but Jin knew that if he so much as turned away to sneeze, his baby would be a man.

“Have your Hyungs seen this surprise?” He asked curiously.

“Yes,” Jungkook dismissed. “But I made them promise not to tell you.”

Jin huffed. Jungkook knew his Hyungs were eternally besotted and wielded it over them like a dangerous weapon when it suited him. In fact, the whole household was wound round Jungkook’s little finger. It was funny, Jin thought, as he was towed over manicured lawns, weaving around beds of summer flowers and through thickets of trees, that people didn’t always learn from their mistakes. Lord Jeon adored his grandson, and granted him all the freedom that he had granted Jeongguk, perhaps even more so. Jin had never seen Lord Jeon so much as raise his voice at Jungkook, even when Jungkook deserved it. Only Injung and Jin himself were on hand to administer much needed discipline.

“I have a flawless technique,” Injung had told Jin once, sparkle in his eye, when Jin had inquired about his methods. “I tell him that Jin will be really sad to hear about this. It works every time.”

Jin had laughed, but it was true. Having six older brothers kept Jungkook grounded, level-headed, occasionally even humble. It was the one gift Jeongguk had never had, but his son flourished for it. And at the end of the day, for all his power and money, Jungkook would still tiptoe to Jin’s room most nights, creaking the door open just enough to press himself through the gap, and stand there barefoot, shivering in the cold with apology and hope in his eyes until Jin rolled his covers back and said “come on in then.”

“Tell me about Europe,” Jungkook snapped him out of his reminiscing, still maintaining his hurried pace. He was growing runners’ legs, Jin could tell. “Was it hot? Did you have adventures?”

“Lots of adventures,” Jin laughed.

“What did you like best? Oh wait, I know, it was the ocean again, wasn’t it?”

“It was the ocean,” Jin conceded. He loved looking at the ocean from different locations. The same sea, and yet a different sea each time. “I went swimming as often as I could.”

“You could take me next time,” Jungkook proposed, glancing back at Jin with his doe eyes on prominent display.

“We’ll see what your grandfather has to- woah, what is that?!”

They’d rounded a copse of trees, and there, not far from the entrance to the grounds, was a building Jin had never seen before.

“Did you build a house?” He stopped in his tracks, genuinely dumbfounded. “Did you do this while I was away?”

“No, we started before you left,” Jungkook said. “It wasn’t too hard to keep a secret, your favourite walk in the grounds is so far away from here. Do you like it?”

“What is it for?” Jin asked. The building didn’t have the opulence of their home, but it was large, attractive, spread out in a large tract of mown grass, the summer sun glinting from it’s windows.

“Guess,” Jungkook said mischievously, pulling at Jin’s arm again.

Bemused, Jin followed. As well as being Lord Jeon’s grandson, Jungkook was also legitimate, for Jeongguk and Mishil’s marriage was indeed recorded in the very little church the orphans used to attend on Sundays. It made Jungkook the uncontested sole heir of Lord Jeon’s fortune and titles, and Lord Jeon had little qualms about Jungkook spending his money now. Jungkook had paid Namjoon’s university tuition fees, and had fronted funds when Yoongi started his own business. He’d been surprised and overwhelmed at their gratitude, failing to understand the true value of the money he was spending, or why his Hyungs would expect anything less from him. Jin was always cautioning Jungkook to think carefully before making any big purchase or expense, to consult with someone he trusted first. He looked up at this vast building now, and wondered if a three week holiday was in fact too long to leave his baby and his bottomless purse.

There were servants ready at the front doors to welcome Jungkook and Jin. Jin noticed the portraits first when he stepped inside, just two, on either side of a centre frame which had yet to be filled. Jeongguk’s portrait was on one side, and Jin wondered how persuasive Jungkook had been to get his grandfather’s permission to move it here. On the other side was the portrait of Mishil Jungkook had commissioned five years ago. It didn’t look much like her. Jin could hardly tell Jungkook that, because it was the best impression they had. He’d described her to the artist at the time, but he sensed he hadn’t done a very good job and several liberties had been taken with her outfit and hair. Yoongi had snorted in a fit of laugher when he’d first seen it. Jin liked to think that Mishil would have seen the funny side too.

Jungkook loved it however, and Jin was satisfied to see both parents in equal position in the entranceway. He and Injung were always secretly vying; Injung would tell Jungkook stories about Jeongguk and Jin would tell Jungkook stories about Mishil. Jungkook drank everything in, his father’s ring and Mishil’s hair inside a locket about his neck . It made Jin glad that Jungkook’s parents could still influence him in some way.

The rest of the building was freshly painted, clean, functional, uncluttered, vast and unpopulated.

“The staff are coming the day after tomorrow,” Jungkook said, leading Jin into one room, which looked like a school classroom with blackboard and desks, the sun blazing through the window. There was another room, with children’s toys: Jungkook’s old rocking horse, dolls and teddies and train sets and puppets and spinning tops. Another room was built like a sports hall.

“What is this?” Jin was truly puzzled as they moved from room to room, taking in another classroom, a well equipped kitchen, long dining hall, infirmary and library.

It was only when they moved upstairs and he saw the dorms that he realised.

“You built an orphanage.”

“A good one,” Jungkook said hastily. “Not like the bad one where we came from, the one that Papa had closed down. A good one, which will make the children feel safe and teach them how to get good jobs. Papa says we can have a university scholarship each year for the ones who are clever like Namjoon-hyung. They can play in the grounds and travel into town for church or shops. Do you think they’ll like it?”

“I think they’ll love it,” Jin marvelled. “I bet Jimin loves it.”

Growing up, Jimin took his servant’s wages into town each week and gave his money to the poorest people he could find, especially the children. Even now, although he and Tae lived and worked in the big city, they always stopped off in town before coming to visit Jin and Jungkook.

“It was his idea, sort of,” Jungkook shrugged. “He helped me a lot.”

“It’s perfect.” Jin shook his head in wonderment. Jungkook’s eyes lit up. He insisted on showing Jin every room, even the bathrooms.

When they found themselves back in the front lobby again, Jin stopped to stare up at the portraits of not-Mishil and Jeongguk again. How fitting, he thought, that they should be the ones the children and the orphanage managers think of when they first walk through these doors.

“What are you thinking?” Jungkook asked quietly, leaning against the nearest doorpost.

“That your mother would be so proud of you,” Jin said. “And your father,” he added. “They would be so, so proud.”

There was a pause as he continued to stare at the portraits, then realised that Jungkook hadn’t responded. He turned to look at him. The twelve-year old was twisting the bottom of his shirt, a nervous habit Jin was sure he’d picked up from Injung.

“What is it?” He said gently.

“I’m glad,” Jungkook said hesitantly. “I’m glad if they’re proud of me. But what really matters to me is that you’re proud of me.”

Jin’s heart soared. “I’m always proud of you,” he said softly. “I was proud of you when you didn’t have two pennies to rub together and needed your nappy changed every hour. And I’m so proud of you now.”

He watched Jungkook’s face melt into joyous relief, and he held out his arms. “Come here, brat.”

They heard the others coming before they saw them.

“Jin!” Hobi bounded up first, freshly twenty four and still full of the energy of a teenager. “Welcome home!”

“You were trying to keep him all to yourself, weren’t you, little monster,” Tae teased Jungkook while Jimin ruffled his hair. Jungkook laughed and didn’t deny it.

Namjoon and Yoongi were the slowest. “Namjoon broke another pair of glasses today,” Yoongi rolled his eyes, reaching up to join in the group hug.

“How are you going to look at the camera?” Hobi chuckled, as Namjoon reluctantly displayed a very broken pair of spectacles and the others smiled knowingly.

“Camera?” Jin frowned.

“Don’t tell me you missed the giant empty frame above your head,” Jimin nudged him. “The photographer is on his way. The artist is going to draw us from the photograph since Hobi can’t keep still long enough for a painting session.”

“Hey!” Hobi pretended to dive for Jimin.

“You want us to be the centre portrait?” Jin asked Jungkook.

“Of course!” Jungkook looked confused. “Who else would go in the centre?”

Jin had loved every moment of his trip. But there was something about being reunited with his boys, looking at their shining eyes, laughing faces and big dreams, which made him happier than all the beauty in the world. He knew that for as long as they were together they could only go up, up and up.