UNWELCOME GUESTS (2)

The disciple pressed himself against the wall, barely daring to exhale as the officials moved around, checking behind every large trunk. They trudged through the sea of items for a while, but there was simply too much clutter and dirt for them to flip through everything.

Neither of them went to the deep corner with the lowered ceiling where Marshall and Wyn had hidden, instead poking around more obvious hiding places.

After what felt like an eternity, the officials gave up. "Nothing up here," one of them called down. "Must have been a rat."

The men climbed back down, closing the hatch behind them. When silence settled over them, Marshall exhaled, slumping in relief. It was a miracle they had not been discovered.

Wyn tapped his arm in a supportive gesture, and the disciple gave a short nod in response. But with the immediate threat gone, they were left with the overpowering musty smell of the attic. The environment was eerily similar to a cave.

The light coming in from the small window seemed to fade out and the surroundings were shrouded in strange darkness.

A shudder ran down Marshall's spine as his nails dug into the palms of his hands, trying to ignore the resurfacing memories. It wasn't a cave, there was no need for panic. He had to stay calm and remain in control over his demonic energy. If he panicked and created a demonic presence, all of them were going to be in trouble. Wyn, Miss Evelyn, even Muyang.

A creaking sound came from somewhere in the attic, as if a small demon was scrambling around. Marshall's head jerked up, his heart slamming into his chest. He could feel the demonic energy inside his body growing agitated.

Wyn noticed the change in the disciple's demeanor. His brows furrowed as he observed the disciple's shallow breaths and the way he seemed to flinch at every sound.

"Marshall," Wyn whispered, leaning closer, "are you all right?"

Marshall managed a nod, trying to shake off the growing discomfort. "It reeks like a cave," he muttered.

A shadow flickered in the corner of his eye and he immediately looked down, peering into the ground. It was insanity. He was seeing things. Marshall grabbed onto the fabric of his robes, dragging his mind back to the present. 

A soft rustling came from his side before a white silken sachet came into his line of sight. "Smell this," Wyn offered.

Without much consideration, Marshall took the sachet and did as he was told. He held the sachet under his nose and inhaled deeply. The crisp scent of pine needles came through strongly. His brows scrunched as he shut his eyes and focused on keeping a semblance of calm. 

There was some more rustling around him, something brushing against his cheek. When he opened his eyes, Wyn had moved in front of him and extended his arms. The long, white sleeves had created a white barrier between the attic and Marshall.

"Better?" Wyn asked quietly.

Marshall nodded, embarrassment hitting him like a smack on the head. He had nearly lost it just from the smell of a damp attic. In front of the snow deity too.

"Thank you," he murmured, a guilty smile on his lips. "You can lower your sleeves now. This is enough," he shook the sachet a little, stirring the pine needles inside.

Wyn retracted his sleeves slowly, studying Marshall with an arched brow. This was the first time he had seen the disciple so shaken. Even while fighting the carmine-scaled beast he barely looked scared. But now his fingers held the sachet in a death grip and his eyes were darting around.

Marshall lowered his head, staring down at the sachet in his hands. The white silk was smooth and pleasant under his thumb. He stroked the surface, narrowing his attention to the texture and the slight poking of the pine needles inside. 

Wyn watched him for a while, then quietly pulled out another sachet from his robe and tucked it into Marshall's hand alongside the first one. 

Having cooled down, the disciple cast an amused glance his way, "Another one? Do you have a whole chest of treasures tucked into your robes?" 

"Perhaps," Wyn's lips curved into a faint smile as he settled back beside Marshall. "A chest, a mountain… who can say?"

Marshall chuckled quietly, shaking his head. "A mountain?"

Wyn let out an amused breath but didn't say anything else.

They sat without speaking, leaning against the wall. There wasn't much sound from below, only the occasional movement of furniture. Every once in a while, Marshall would bring the sachet to his nose, using the sharp, sweet scent as a distraction. 

Minutes trickled into a dozen when a thump rang from below. The disciple's eyes widened and Wyn's fingers wrapped around Marshall's wrist instinctively. 

The hatch of the attic was pulled open, the light from below creeping in.

"Those men just left. You can come out," Miss Evelyn's voice reached them.

Wyn released his wrist, the crease between his brows fading. 

Marshall exhaled in relief, then took one last deep breath, letting the smell of pine fill his nose before returning the sachets, "Thanks again. It helped a lot." 

He pushed himself up, brushing off the dust before climbing out of the attic. Wyn followed, descending the creaky stairs right behind him—or, in this case, above him.

As Marshall and Wyn reached the floor, they found Miss Evelyn pacing anxiously in the hallway, her eyes flaming with anger.

"Damn those officials," she muttered. "They barely asked any questions. Just rummaged through the entire house, making a mess."

The moonlight poured from large window, exposing the dust floating in the air, slowly settling down around them. The air downstairs smelled of laundry and wood.

Marshall glanced at the snow deity, who looked like an angel that had fallen from heavens and tumbled down a chimney on the way down. He cleared his throat, piecing his thoughts together to face the elderly lady properly.

"Miss Evelyn, I'm really sorry for what happened. And I'm even more sorry to ask for a favor in such a situation, but would it be alright if Muyang stayed with you? You can make him do chores and gardening if—"

She reached out and clasped his hand fondly, interrupting the hurried apology. "Of course, Muyang can stay here. He's a good lad. We'll be fine. Don't you worry."

The disciple was trapped in bittersweet gratitude. He should've talked to Miss Evelyn about this properly before.

Wyn bowed deeply. "Thank you for allowing Muyang to stay here."

"Oh, Wynnie," Miss Evelyn nudged him to make him straighten up. "It's no trouble. Pease, just be safe, you two."