Chapter Text
Kim Rok Soo had a Soulmate, that was a fact. He knew that because he, like everyone, had a red string attached to his pinky.
The other fact— the one that made people stare— was that his string didn’t trail across the ground toward someone nearby. It went straight up into the sky.
When he was young, people told him it meant his Soulmate had died, however, if a Soulmate died, the thread got cut off, hanging loosely from the pinky of the other, so that theory couldn’t be true.
Others suggested he simply didn’t have a Soulmate. But people without Soulmates didn’t have a string at all.
So no, that theory didn’t fit either.
In his happier days, before his parents died, he would lie awake imagining the possibilities. Was his Soulmate in space? Another country? Another world? But after his uncle took him in, and survival became a daily battle, such thoughts became a luxury.
Then the world ended.
Monsters poured out of the cracks in reality. Cities burned. Society collapsed. The red threads of countless people snapped into nothing as Soulmates died one by one.
Rok Soo’s stayed.
He didn’t know whether to feel relief or dread. Whoever was on the other end was alive— but far, far away.
The day’s slowly became happier, the monster attacks lessened and so did the deaths— sadly his friends, Lee Soo Hyuk and Choi Jung Soo, weren’t under the lucky survivors. Rok Soo had to become cold and smarter in order to survive in the company where he took a role as Team leader of Team 1.
On one rare day off, he picked up a novel: The Birth of a Hero. Predictable plot, strong protagonist flung into another world, endless enemies. Still, the characters felt real, vibrant in a way that kept him turning pages. Somewhere mid-chapter, he drifted off.
_~*~_
When he woke, the air smelled different.
The room around him was grand and unfamiliar, tall windows draped in heavy curtains, polished wooden furniture, an ornate bed. Definitely not his cramped apartment in Korea.
A glint caught his eye. Across the room, a mirror reflected a stranger: a handsome redhead with pale skin, dressed in silk.
‘Is that me?’ Rok Soo raised his right hand to confirm his suspicion, the man in the mirror followed his movement. ‘He looks strangely familiar’ memories of the books he had read flooded back into his mind.
Cale Henituse.
He looked like Cale Henituse, the trashy son of a Count that had gotten beaten up by the protagonist after insulting his deceased village. Rok Soo, or, well, it was Cale now, shuddered at the thought of getting beaten up by the strong protagonist Choi Han.
Suddenly a red string caught his eye. A red string that was attached to his pinky. A red string that stretched out the open window, vanishing into the distance instead of the sky. Rok Soo, no, Cale looked down at his hand in shock. The trashy character Cale did not have a Soulmate, so why…
His heartbeat quickened. Was this his Soulmate? Rok Soo’s, not Cale’s? The pieces clicked. The string wasn’t an error. His Soulmate just hadn’t been in Korea.
“Heh.” A laugh burst out before he could stop it.
A knock came from the door. “Young master Cale? Is everything alright?” A calm, courteous voice. The door opened, revealing an older man with a faint smile and eyes too sharp for comfort.
Ron Molan, his mind helpfully supplied. He shuddered when he remembered the vicious assassin from the book.
“Yes, I was just surprised.” Cale answered, casting a quick glance at his right hand. Ron followed his gaze, his eyes widening in surprise for a quick moment.
“Ho,” Ron said softly. “Your surprise is understandable. I have never heard of a Soulstring appearing overnight.”
Cale tightened his grip around the bedsheets. “It’s nothing important.” The old man was quite scary, he wanted to have nothing to do with him.
Ron tilted his head slightly, as though humoring him. “Of course, young master. Still… one might call it a miracle. A connection that appears overnight? And since it is well known you do not have a Soulstring, some nobles might find themselves… curious. After all Soulstrings are rare already, and one just appearing?” His tone was mild, but his gaze lingered on the faint thread stretching from Cale’s hand into the distance.
Cale kept his expression steady. “What nonsense are you saying?”
“Ah, I am only looking out for you,” Ron replied smoothly. “A Soulstring is sacred to people here— a bond between two souls who complete each other. You should cherish it.”
Ron stepped closer, moving with the quiet precision of a predator. “Shall I send for your breakfast? Or perhaps… you wish to follow that string instead?”
Cale’s gaze snapped up. “…What?”
“A joke, of course,” Ron said pleasantly, though a sliver of curiosity edged his voice. “Still, if you did wish to search… best to do it before others notice. A rare phenomenon like this would certainly cause a stir.”
Right. In this world, Soulstrings weren’t common at all. The last thing he wanted was attention for something so visible.
“I’ll keep that in mind.”
Something flickered in Ron’s expression Was it confusion? Amusement? But it was gone in a blink. He bowed and slipped out, presumably to fetch breakfast, leaving Cale staring at the red thread, thoughts churning too quickly for comfort.
_~*~_
After the breakfast, which was exceptionally good he had to admit, Cale had made a plan up in his mind.
1. Get the shield ancient power to protect himself.
2. Get a lot of money.
3. Leave the County and settle in some quiet village, slacking off for the rest of his life.
It seemed simple enough.
_~*~_
Cale was planning on how to achieve his goal when Ron informed him, with that polite smile that meant “no escape,” that the Count wished to see him at lunch.
Which was how he ended up at the long Henituse dining table, facing Count Deruth, Countess Violan, Basen, and Lily.
The meal started pleasantly enough, although there was a question lingering on everyone’s mond. No one spoke up until Lily’s eyes landed on his right hand for the umpteenth time. “Big brother… you have a Soulstring now?”
The air shifted. Four sets of eyes turned to him. Basen cleared his throat. “It’s quite rare, isn’t it? Having a Soulstring I mean, especially for one to appear suddenly?”
Violan’s tone was calm, but there was a glint in her eyes. “Rare and something that will attract attention from the nobility.”
Deruth leaned forward. “Cale, when did this happen?” Cale set down his fork, face perfectly blank. “Overnight. I was as surprised as anyone.”
Lily curiously reached out, looking at him as if she was asking for permission. Cale sighed and reached his hand out, small fingers tried to touch the thread, however they just went right through it. Cale casually pulled his hand back after her failed attempt to touch the Soulstring. “It’s pretty,” Lilly murmured.
“It’s troublesome,” Cale corrected, before smoothly changing the subject.
“Speaking of which, Father, I’ll need an advance on my allowance. I have… personal arrangements to make.” He was talking about the shield of course.
Deruth blinked. “You… have arrangements?”
“Yes, there are some things I want to do,” Cale said mildly.
That earned a thoughtful nod from Violan, and a slight smile from Deruth as he agreed. “Of course son, I’ll try to give you as much money as I can!” It was clear that he misunderstood Cale’s intentions, but Cale didn’t correct him.
_~*~_
The following days slipped by in a strange rhythm.
Cale moved through the city with quiet purpose, gathering what he needed for the shield. Bread.
An items the “trash” of the Count’s family shouldn’t have cared for. Wherever he went, eyes followed him. At first the stares carried the usual mixture of disdain and wariness, but the moment their gazes landed on his hand, on the faint crimson thread trailing into the distance, something shifted.
Fear gave way to fascination.
The bakers who once looked nervous at his orders now wrapped loaves with a smile too wide to be genuine. The two hungry children he fed in the past few days, who had once flinched at his approach, now looked at him with hesitant trust rather than fear.
Everywhere he went, whispers followed.
“I can’t believe he has a Soulstring!”
“They’re rarer than gold, why would someone like him have one?”
“I haven’t seen him drunk in days. Do you think… he’s trying to change?”
“Maybe he doesn’t want to disappoint his Soulmate.”
“How admirable! Changing his life for love!”
Cale tuned it all out, keeping his face blank, though the words itched at the back of his mind. Love? If they knew the truth, that his “change” was about survival, and that his Soulmate was probably still far away, they’d choke on their admiration.
None of it mattered. What mattered was today.
Today, the ancient shield would finally be his.
And today… he would have to face that terrifying bastard, Choi Han.
Just the thought sent a shiver crawling down his spine.
_~*~_
Evening came too fast for Cale’s liking.
The sky bled into dusky colors as he retraced the steps he remembered from the book, heading for the bar the “trash” young master was supposed to frequent. Inside, the air was thick with the same stares of wariness and distaste as always. Apparently, a Soulstring didn’t erase his reputation here.
He sighed, masking his relief, and ordered his usual wine along with an unsalted chicken breast. The wine was for show. The chicken, well, that was for later. If the story hadn’t changed, Choi Han would stumble across the kittens soon. And Choi Han, Cale remembered, had always been too soft-hearted to turn away from something small and weak. Best to make use of that.
The wine went down fast, his face flushing as though he were the lightweight everyone believed him to be. The illusion held. When he finally left the bar and made his way toward the dirty path, nerves coiled tight in his chest. What if he did something wrong? What if, despite all this, he still ended up beaten bloody by the protagonist?
He pushed the thought down. He couldn’t afford to hesitate now.
A soft meow startled him from his spiraling worries. Looking down, he spotted the pair of kittens waiting just as the book described: one red, one gray. The gray one limped slightly, a wound visible in the fading light.
“Oh, you poor things,” he murmured, crouching as he broke the chicken apart for them. The red kitten darted forward, eager and unafraid, while the gray one lingered. Its wide eyes weren’t on the food at all— they were fixed just past Cale’s shoulder.
Cale knew why it did that. Someone was watching.
He didn’t need to look to know who it was. The protagonist was watching him.
“…Eat up,” he whispered to the kittens, though his heart beat faster with every passing second. The gray kitten padded closer, ignoring the scraps of chicken entirely. Instead, she pressed her tiny head against his right hand.
“What, do you want pets?” Cale asked quietly, brows knitting.
But the kitten didn’t stop. She butted her head against his pinky, almost stubbornly, as though trying to guide him somewhere.
His pinky.
Cale’s stomach dropped.
The thread.
The faint red Soulstring that had always been little more than a nuisance tug at the edge of his awareness now gleamed brightly, pulsing with a light he’d never seen before. His breath hitched as the glow grew brighter, spilling through the darkness in a shimmering light.
For a heartbeat he tried to look away, tried to deny what his instincts already knew, but his gaze betrayed him, following the thread as if compelled.
And then he turned.
Two eyes, black as obsidian, met his.
Choi Han stood a few steps away, frozen mid-motion, his hand half-raised. His expression, usually described as cold, wary and unreadable, was cracked open with wonder.
The glow of the Soulstring tethered them together, crimson fire weaving from Cale’s pinky to Choi Han’s, unmistakable, undeniable.
Cale’s throat went dry. He knew this man. He knew what he was capable of, what kind of fury simmered in his soul. The Choi Han in the book was dangerous, unshakably loyal, yes, but also terrifying when crossed. The kind of person you didn’t want as an enemy.
And yet… this was him. His Soulmate.
The kitten mewed again, breaking the silence as it pressed against Cale’s leg, purring as though urging him to move, to do something.
Cale’s mind was a mess. He should say something. He should laugh it off, pretend it wasn’t real, act like this was some strange coincidence-
But he couldn’t look away.
For the first time since he’d woken in this unfamiliar body, Cale felt the weight of inevitability press down on him. Not the plot of the book, not his carefully laid plans, something way more important, something deeper. A bond that had waited his entire life to surface.
And judging by the way Choi Han’s breath trembled in the air between them, he felt it too.
The world held its breath.
And then-
A step.
The dark-haired man moved forward, slow but certain, his hand half-extended as if some invisible force were tugging him closer.
Cale’s mind screamed danger. Every instinct told him to retreat, to put as much distance as possible between himself and this walking storm. But his body refused to obey. The glow of the string anchored him in place, his wide eyes locked on the man before him.
Choi Han stopped only a breath away, his hand suspended just shy of touching Cale’s. The glow between their pinkies burned brighter than ever, red light weaving them together in undeniable certainty.
Cale’s thoughts scattered for one absurd moment— His string is on his left hand?— before a voice broke through the silence.
“…Hello.”
Hoarse. Rough, as though unused. The sound of it made Cale’s throat dry, and an absurd urge to fetch the man a glass of water struck him.
“…Hi,” he managed, breathless.
Choi Han’s mouth opened, then closed again. His expression wavered between disbelief and something softer, rawer. “You… I- I…” The words tangled in his throat, his usual composure nowhere to be found.
The silence between them stretched, taut and fragile.
“You’re my Soulmate.”
The words slipped from Cale’s lips before he could stop them— soft, almost shy, though his heart was still hammering in his chest. Saying it aloud made the thread burn brighter, as if the world itself confirmed it.
Choi Han’s eyes widened, the awe in them almost unbearable to look at.
Cale swallowed, forcing himself to speak again before the moment consumed him. “I- Do you have somewhere to go? Are you hungry?” His voice shook, and he hated that it did. “Follow me. I can give you those things.”
He didn’t wait for Choi Han’s answer. He couldn’t. If he stopped to think, the weight of it all might crush him. So he turned, starting way to his home. He could hear the slow steps behind him, Choi Han was following him.
_~*~_
The manor was quieter than usual when the knights pushed open the doors, they were too shocked to say anything. Cale began walking into the building in confident strides, Choi Han following in his shadow. Quiet, but not empty. Servants froze mid-step as they entered, eyes darting instantly to the crimson glow twined around Cale’s pinky.
The glow didn’t fade. If anything, it pulsed brighter under so many watchful gazes, a declaration impossible to deny.
Gasps rippled through the hall.
“That’s…”
“His Soulmate?”
“But- he looks-“
Cale bit back a sigh. Yes, Choi Han was still wearing the same travel-worn clothes, stained by dirt, blood and patched from too many battles. His dark hair fell in uneven locks, his face gaunt from hunger. He didn’t look like someone people would picture when thinking of a noble’s destined partner, he looked like a vagabond dragged in from the roadside.
But the string didn’t care.
Neither did Cale. On the way back he had made up his mind, Choi Han was his Soulmate, which ment that he was his to care for and to protect.
Ron approached first, his sharp smile betraying little though his gaze flicked curiously between them. Of course he’s already figured something out, Cale thought sourly.
Then came Count Deruth, striding into the hall, Violan a step behind him, Basen and Lily peeking wide-eyed around their mother’s skirts. It seemed some servants had already notified his family of the arrival of him and his Soulmate.
The Count’s eyes immediately locked on the thread. His expression wavered, shock, disbelief, then cautious wonder.
“You…” His voice trailed off as he studied the man at Cale’s side. “…Cale. You’ve brought home your Soulmate?”
Silence stretched. Even the servants seemed to be holding their breath.
Cale’s lips curved in the faintest parody of a smile. “So it seems.”
Murmurs broke out, half-stifled by nervous propriety. He could hear them anyway.
“Why him?”
“He doesn’t look like a noble-“
“A soulmate bond is sacred, we can’t question it…”
“But our young master, with that man?”
Choi Han’s jaw tightened, his obsidian eyes sweeping across the crowd. He didn’t shrink under their scrutiny, though his hand twitched slightly where it hung by his side— right where the string was tied.
Cale felt the pull of the bond thrum against his skin, steady and unshakable despite all the whispers. He straightened, gaze cool as he met his father’s eyes.
“Regardless of what he looks like,” Cale said flatly, cutting through the murmurs, “he’s my Soulmate. And he’s hungry. So prepare something good for him to eat.”
Gasps rippled across the hall. Before anyone could recover, his gaze snapped to one of the servants. “Hans!”
The orange-haired man startled as though struck. “Y-yes, Young Master?”
“Prepare him a bath and clean clothes. And make sure the ones he’s wearing are washed properly.” Cale’s tone was cool, commanding, leaving no room for questions.
He turned back to his father, who was still staring between him and the glowing thread with thinly veiled astonishment. “Father, if you don’t mind, I’ll take him to the kitchen myself. It’s late, you should all go back to bed.”
The Count opened his mouth, perhaps to object, but Violan’s hand touched his sleeve, silencing him. Her sharp eyes glittered with calculation, but she inclined her head gracefully.
Lily whispered, awestruck, “Big brother’s Soulmate…”
Basen’s brows drew together, lips pressing thin, but he said nothing.
Cale ignored them all. He gave a final nod, then turned, his Soulmate trailing behind him, the thread between them glowing steady and unyielding as he led the way.
_~*~_
When they arrived at the kitchen 2 Beacrox, the chef, was sharpening a kitchen knife. Cale winced at the threatening sight but immediately composed himself.
“Beacrox, make him something to eat. He’s hungry.”
The chef looked up, eyes widening slightly at the sight of the Soulstring bei g connected to someone, but they darkened as they took in how disheveled the man it was attached to looked.
“Of course, Young Master,” he said, immediately getting to work.
“Young Master, this Ron came to inform you that the room for your Soulmate is prepared.” A familiar voice startled Cale, the usually quiet butler seemed to materialize out of nowhere.
“Thank you, Ron,” Cale said, eyes flicking to Choi Han. “However, he’ll eat first.”
Cale glanced at him, studying the way the dark-haired man’s hands hovered slightly, uncertain. His pulse quickened, not from fear, but from the strange thrill of having his Soulmate here, finally. “Choi Han,” the dark haired man said, holding the gaze. “My name is… Choi Han.” Choi Han blinked, hesitation in his obsidian eyes.
“Ho…” It was Ron who gasped softly as he realised that Cale had dragged the man along without even a proper introduction.
Cale stepped a little closer, careful to keep a comfortable distance yet close enough that their shoulders almost brushed. “Right. We should… probably introduce ourselves, yes?”
A small, almost imperceptible smile curved Cale’s lips. “I’m Cale Henituse, it’s nice to meet you.”
The thread connecting their pinkies pulsed faintly as if acknowledging the introduction, glowing softly in the dim kitchen light. Cale let his hand drift slightly closer, just enough that the warmth of proximity hummed through them both.
For a moment, the clatter of knives and sizzling of the kitchen faded. It was just them, the Soulstring connecting them, and the quiet certainty that they were no longer alone.