The world blurred as Ji-hyeon ran, each step a fight against the cold ache in his legs and the sharp sting in his chest. Trees flew past him in shadows, twisted and ancient, like silent watchers keeping secrets older than time itself. The mist had grown thicker, swallowing light and muffling every sound—except the echo of the battle behind him.
He wanted to stop.
To turn around.
To help.
But he knew that if he did… he would die. And the woman—whoever she was—had made it clear: his survival mattered.
But why?
---
After what felt like hours, Ji-hyeon stumbled into a clearing lit only by the pale moon. He collapsed beside a crumbling stone altar—overgrown with moss and roots, as if forgotten by even the earth itself.
His breath came in gasps. His chest heaved. And for the first time in his short, quiet life… he felt fear not of death, but of the truth.
"Who am I… really?" he whispered.
The words felt foreign. Heavy. And yet, inside him, something stirred.
A memory, perhaps.
Not a clear one—but a flicker. A throne of obsidian. Eyes bowing before him. Blood-soaked skies.
He shivered.
---
Suddenly, the ground beneath the altar pulsed—softly. Once. Then again.
A low hum vibrated through the stones, and Ji-hyeon's gaze was drawn downward.
Symbols. The same silver script that had appeared in his notebook.
Faint, glowing, pulsing with a rhythm that matched his heartbeat.
Dum... dum... dum...
He reached out, hesitant but compelled. As his fingers brushed the surface, the entire altar flashed with light, not blinding, but warm. Welcoming.
Then a voice—inside his head.
> "You have returned."
---
Ji-hyeon jerked back, eyes wide.
"No. I haven't. I don't even know what I'm returning to!"
But the voice didn't answer. The light faded slowly, leaving behind only the markings—now etched permanently into the stone.
He stood, still trembling. He felt... changed. Not stronger. Not yet. But the silence around him no longer felt empty.
It felt expectant.
Like the world was holding its breath, waiting.
---
He turned away from the altar, planning to find shelter before morning.
But he only took one step before freezing.
Standing at the edge of the clearing was a boy.
Around Ji-hyeon's age.
Wearing a cloak too clean for the forest, with sharp eyes that studied him not like a stranger… but like a hunter sizing prey.
And then he smiled.
"You really are him, aren't you?" the boy said.