The two of you swim for shore.
Warm water laps against your skin as you paddle forward in almost complete silence, the only thing that lets you know Wooyoung is still behind you is the soft, occasional splash behind you. The night is cold, but the water is relatively matching your body temperature, so at least there's been a good start to the mission so far.
You can only pray to the gods that it stays that way.
Finally, you see your destination, a small, deserted beach at the shoreline and swim hard for it. The tide seems to be favoring you today, pushing you gently to shore and in the end, you and Wooyoung collapse next to each other in the gritty sand, panting hard from the exertion. The sea washes over your feet one last time, like an encouraging pat on the back, before it sweeps back into the ocean.
"This mission is killing me already." Wooyoung heaves for breath, shivering against the cold wind. You open your oilskin bag and offer him a towel, but he waves it off. "You first."
His tone tells you he won't take no for an answer, so you sigh and rub the coarse sackcloth down your arms and legs, toweling your hair as dry as possible. Then you pass the cloth the Wooyoung who starts doing the same, while you wring out the cloak around your shoulders.
"We need to cut through the grove of trees and make for the estate." Wooyoung tosses the cloth to the side when he's done with it. You struggle to make out his face in the darkness, the only light coming from the pubs and taverns near the bay front area still open at this time of the night, but you suppose the darkness will be good in helping the two of you go unseen.
"Let's go."
He takes your hand in his and the two of you tread as silently as you can through the small grove of trees separating the beach from the town. Even though the grove is dark and almost completely uninhabited, every soft crunch of leaves beneath your feet makes you jump, and you have to stop yourself from jumping out of your skin at every hoot of a night owl.
Then in front of you, Wooyoung lets out a muffled curse and stops suddenly. Fear sinks in your chest.
"What happened?" You whisper to him, trying to keep fright out of the edge of your voice.
The head gunner merely rubs his head and you can hear the amusement in his voice. "I was too busy looking at where I was putting my feet and hit my head on a tree branch. It's broken."
"That's terrible."
Wooyoung shakes his head, hand falling to the side. "Thanks for the concern, but my head will be fine. Don't worry about me."
You pause for a moment.
"I thought you were talking about the branch."
You don't need to look at him to know he's wearing a pout, but you give him a weak grin in response. The two of you manage to make it to the edge of the grove without a hitch except for Wooyoung's little hiccup. You scan the town.
There aren't many guards, as far as you can see.
"Alright, let's go."
Both of you stride out in the open, trying to be as natural as possible, as if you aren't trying to break into the estate of the most important official of this town. To blend in with the crowd, Wooyoung has even rubbed henna into his hair to disguise its striking purple shade, and you still do double takes sometimes when you look at him. But other than that, the two of you look perfectly normal, the usual shady people you'd find at this hour of the night.
You've memorized the map in your head so you know where you're going, but there's always the irrational fear that you may have taken a wrong turn, or that they've changed the structure of the town.
Wooyoung is still rubbing at his head with a rueful smile as the two of you walk through the empty streets with the odd drunk loitering here and there. "Maybe I should have looked at where I was going."
You glance at him in concern as you fall into step with him, your footsteps matching.
"Does it hurt?" There's a red weal where the branch had hit him. Wooyoung snorts as if the answer is obvious.
"Of course it does, it's broken."
You actually stop to stare at him in horror, your heart sinking as you check his forehead over for injuries. "What?" Then you see Wooyoung giggling with a hand over his mouth and you start to wonder exactly how hard he hit his head.
"Sorry. I thought you were talking about the tree branch." He throws your sentence right back you and you give him a flat stare. Then you flick him in the forehead right on the bruise and he yelps in pain, but still can't stop the giggles falling from his mouth.
The two of you walk past a row of shop houses, and you glance in interest at their wares, peering through the glass windows. Many are selling beautiful ornaments, jewelry, and even clockwork automatons. These are things you're pretty sure you've never seen before.
Then the two of you walk past a bookshop and you read the titles through the glass window.
"Hamlet, Othello, the Tempest..." You murmur aloud to yourself and Wooyoung glances curiously at you. "Leviathan, Religio Medici... The Mermaid-"
The gunner taps you on the shoulder, snapping you out of your little reading session.
"We're here." He points at the small, dark alleyway that will lead you to the back wing of the estate. You glance around to make sure no one is following you.
As if luck is in your favour tonight, the streets are empty.
Both of you duck into the alley, blending into the shadows the best you can as you pull the black scarf over your nose to hide your face. You glance before you, the first floor of the official's building has no windows, most likely to deter intruders like you. The lowest open window is about at twice your height and opposite it, across the alleyway, are a few open windows, where you assume some of the townspeople reside.
Wooyoung presses his right ear against the stone wall, indicating for you to keep your volume down. You watch with bated breath, afraid to make a sound as you quietly undo the grappling rope around your waist. After a long moment, the gunner turns to you and shakes his head.
No guards.
You breathe a sigh of relief and pass the rope to Wooyoung, who ties the steel grappling hook to the end. He spins the weight at the end, before sending it up into one of the windows on the second floor. When he pulls, the rope goes taut.
The two of you listen for the signs of any rousing, that you might have woken someone, but all is silent.
Wooyoung scales the rope first, his years as a rigging monkey clear in the way he swarms up the grappling rope like a spider, and disappears over the ledge into the building. You pray for his safety as your grip around the rope tightens.
Then you feel two jerks on the rope.
It's safe.
You exhale nervously, wrapping your hands around the rope and pulling yourself upwards. Initially, when you'd first started learning how to move around the rigging, your arms had been weak from lack of such strenuous exercise. Yunho had just cheerfully encouraged you with his usual 'practice, practice, practice', and now, it's paying off for you.
You're nowhere near as agile as Wooyoung, but you manage to heave yourself into the room, sweat dripping from your forehead. Wooyoung helps you into the room, but then holds a finger to his lips immediately, eyes urgent.
You glance over his shoulder and your heart sinks.
You've intruded into the bedroom of a wealthy official, his body tucked up under frilly sheets and silk covers. The bed is a lavish, gold painted affair with lace curtains, and you're almost blinded by the gaudiness of it all. You nod at Wooyoung, indicating that you've gotten the message, and he points to a stack of papers on the desk.
You move over to it as quietly as you can while Wooyoung coils the rope for later use, flipping through the documents marked with a red wax seal to see which name occurs the most.
Ludovico Robertt. A tax collector.
You shake your head and Wooyoung's shoulders sag in disappointment, but he gestures for you to put the papers down and follow him. The two of you move through the luxurious bedchambers of this tax collector, and to your horror, you see Wooyoung's shoulder brush against a porcelain teacup on a shelf. It tilts over the edge of the shelf, wobbling there for a moment, seemingly frozen in time, before it starts to falls to the ground.
Your eyes fly wide and you dive to catch it before it can shatter against the floorboards.
Wooyoung whirls around in surprise as you grab for the piece of tableware frantically. It slips from your fingers, and Wooyoung scrambles to snatch the cup out of the air.
He succeeds.
The two of you look at each other and simultaneously heave a silent sigh of relief. The gunner places it back on the shelf very carefully and the two of you continue making your way through the room, every chair, every ornament, and every soft squeak of the wooden floorboards like a warning call of your arrival.
Seriously, you might have some permanent heart issues when this mission is over.
Both of you creep to the door, silent as mice. Wooyoung, holds up a hand, indicating for you to stop, before he open the door a crack to check for any guards. Then he turns back to you, lips at your ear.
"There are two guards in the inner courtyard, but they're not really looking up. From this angle, it'll be difficult to see us anyway." He whispers and you nod in understanding. "I'm sure there are plenty of other guards patrolling the second floor, but we can hide in the rooms if need be. If all the rooms are like this one, it has no lock."
Then he slips out of the room as silently as a wraith, and you follow behind him.
The door opens out into a corridor, which gives you a view of the inner courtyard. You peer down to see the two guards that Wooyoung was talking about, their faces eerily lit from the light of the flickering torches. You gulp at the sight and tiptoe after Wooyoung, following him down the corridor to the next room.
To your relief, the doors have brass plaques on them with the names of the person staying inside, probably to help the servants working in the estate. You're not a servant, but you're so grateful to whoever came up with this idea you want to kiss their feet.
Your eyes scan the names while Wooyoung keeps a lookout for any guards.
John Dely. Christopher Smith. Warin Page. Valentine Dauntestay.
You grit your teeth in frustration. Every second you stay, the higher your chances are of being discovered. Wooyoung glances at you, and you shake your head.
He's not here.
Wooyoung's eyes darken.
Goddamnit.
He takes your hand in his once more and the two of you crouch low, moving quickly and quietly to the next corridor. To your immense relief and joy, the name on the first plaque you see is the right one.
Lucio Bartholomew.
You turn to grin at Wooyoung, but then remember he can't see your face beneath the mask. But by now, the two of you are so in tune with each other he already seems aware of the success before you can tell him.
His eyes crinkle into tiny crescents above his mask.
Good job, Chin Hae!
You give a little bow, before moving to open the door. The two of you slip in, ghosts in the night and Wooyoung shuts the door silently behind you.
Your eyes take a moment to adjust to the gloom, and you're surprised by what you see.
The room is neat and sparsely decorated, nothing like the first bedchamber you saw. The shelves are filled with books, the floor bare and well swept, and behind the man's desk is a dark shape lying on a simple wooden bed, snoozing peacefully.
This man is the cause of all of Seonghwa's problems.
Anger begins to flare up in you, but you push it down. It is not your fury this man will have to deal with, but Seonghwa's. Wooyoung pulls a piece of charcoal from his oilskin bag and begins to sketch the location of the room on paper.
While Wooyoung is doing that, you glance around to occupy yourself. This man must be an avid reader, filled with much knowledge and information. He almost reminds you of Yeosang, in that manner.
Then you see it.
A sole book, lying on the table. Its cover is a thin piece of wood, the title hand carved into the surface, but you care not for the make of the book. Instead your eyes are fixed on the letters engraved into the wood.
The Legend of Prometheus.
A quiet gasp leaves your mouth as your mind flashes back to the book Yeosang was holding. You don't notice Wooyoung straighten up in confusion as he turns to look at you, you simply walk over to the book, as if in a trance, picking it up.
A Titan of Greek mythology, Prometheus is credited in most legends for giving men the gift of fire, having stolen it from the forge of the Greek God Hephaestus.
"What is it?" Wooyoung taps you on the shoulder, but you're too absorbed in the book to answer him. "We need to go."
"Give me a moment." You hiss in reply, flipping to the next page. "I need to read this first."
Wooyoung looks like he wants to argue, but you pay no heed to him.
After the battle between the Olympian Gods and the Titans, Prometheus was given the task of creating man by the ruling Olympian, Zeus, God of the Skies. Prometheus then went to a riverside, and to make man he sculpted, like a potter, a body from clay.
Something goes silent inside of you.
A body of clay.
Wooyoung must sense that there's something wrong because he glances at you in worry, but you barely notice him.
A body of clay. The word echoes in your mind endlessly, a chant, a prayer. You feel numb, weak and utterly lost.
The book slips from your hands and lands on the ground with a heavy thud.
The noise shocks you out of your stupor, Wooyoung's eyes flying open in horror. The two of you stare at each other for a moment, neither daring to move a muscle.
There's a pause.
Then you hear shifting coming from the side and your heart sinks in your chest as your eyes glance at the dark shape sitting up on the bed. He rubs his eyes blearily as his eyes adjust to his surroundings.
The two of you stare at him, and he stares back at the two of you.
There's a moment of incomprehension, as his brain tries to figure out why there are two humanoid dark shapes in his room. Then it sinks in and you see his mouth opening, your heart sinking in your chest in terror.
"Guards!"