The sky cracked open with a scream.
Not thunder—a scream.
And then everything shattered.
Ha-jin didn't have time to react. One moment, she was standing beneath the rain in Seoul, clutching her broken heart and a half-written letter. The next, the ground beneath her feet vanished. Darkness swallowed her whole.
She didn't fall… she was pulled.
---
The scent hit her first—incense, blood, and burning wood.
Her body hit the stone floor hard, her breath punched from her lungs as pain lit up her spine.
Gasping, coughing, Ha-jin rolled over and stared at the sky.
But this wasn't her sky.
It was wide and ancient, colored in deep twilight hues with no neon lights, no planes, no noise. Just silence. And stars—too many stars for the polluted city she knew.
She sat up slowly, eyes darting around. She was in a palace courtyard. The towering pagodas, red columns, and robed servants rushing past made no sense.
Then, a horn blared in the distance.
A royal horn.
Suddenly, voices rang out.
"She's a spy!"
"No, she fell from the sky! Did you not see it?"
"Call the Crown Prince! Now!"
Before she could speak, arms grabbed her roughly, dragging her to her feet. Her clothes—soaked from the rain moments ago—now marked her as a foreigner, a threat. She was shoved forward, stumbling through marble halls lit with golden lanterns and watchful eyes.
And then... she saw him.
A figure stepped into the corridor.
Tall. Clad in black robes embroidered with a golden dragon. Eyes like polished obsidian—cold, unreadable, powerful.
The crowd silenced instantly.
He walked toward her slowly, every step echoing like a drum of fate. When he stopped inches from her, the silence pressed down like a storm.
His voice was soft but dangerous.
"Who are you to trespass into my kingdom?"
Ha-jin opened her mouth, but no sound came out.
She didn't know the language.
She didn't know the era.
But one thing was terrifyingly clear—
She wasn't in her world anymore.
And somehow… her arrival had awakened something dangerous.
Something ancient.
Something burning.
Like embers of fate waiting to reignite.
Ha-jin's heart pounded so hard she could hear it echo in her ears. Her knees trembled, not just from the cold, but from the immense pressure of the moment. This man—this prince, or king, or whatever he was—held the entire corridor in his grip with just a glance.
His dark eyes didn't blink. He studied her like she was an ancient relic that had no business breathing.
She swallowed hard and looked away.
"I asked you a question," he said again, this time in a deeper, more forceful tone.
Still, she didn't respond. Her mind scrambled for answers, for an escape, for logic. But none of this was logical. She wasn't dreaming. The sting of her fall was still alive on her skin, and her fear was too sharp to be fake.
Another man stepped forward, slightly shorter, with softer features and a scroll in hand.
"Your Highness," he said with a low bow, "the girl does not appear to be one of our people. Her clothing is unlike anything from the Northern or Southern provinces."
The prince narrowed his eyes.
"Bring her to the interrogation chamber."
Before Ha-jin could protest, two guards seized her by the arms. She struggled, kicking, screaming, even biting—but her voice was nothing more than noise in this place.
---
The chamber was colder than the air outside. Stone walls. Iron sconces burning with low flames. A single wooden chair in the center of the room. They threw her into it and tied her wrists to the arms. She winced as the rope dug into her skin.
The prince entered last. His presence dimmed the flames.
"Who sent you?" he asked.
Ha-jin shook her head desperately. "I don't understand you! Please—just let me go. I didn't do anything."
His brows drew together.
"She speaks in tongues," the assistant said. "Not the language of the court."
The prince knelt in front of her. He tilted his head slightly, then slowly reached out and brushed her wet bangs from her forehead.
"Your eyes... they do not lie," he murmured.
She flinched.
He stood abruptly. "Leave us."
The guards hesitated, but the command was clear. They filed out, leaving Ha-jin alone with him. Her breath came in shallow gasps.
"What is your name?" he asked slowly, speaking each word as if weighing them carefully.
She blinked. "Ha-jin."
He repeated it, testing it on his tongue. "Ha-jin. That is not a name from this land."
She nodded frantically. "I'm not from here. I don't even know where this is. I swear—I just... I was in the rain and then... I don't know."
He stared at her, long and hard.
Then, without warning, he pulled out a pendant from around his neck. It was shaped like a phoenix, embedded with a red jewel that glowed faintly. He held it close to her face.
It reacted.
A pulse of red light flared between them. Ha-jin gasped.
He stepped back. His jaw tightened. "You were summoned."
Her eyes widened. "What?"
He turned away. "You're not just a trespasser. You're part of the prophecy."
She laughed in disbelief. "Prophecy? No, no—I work in a bookshop. I live in a tiny apartment. I'm no one."
He turned back to her. "That may have been true—before the realm chose you. But now... now you are something else."
The chamber door opened again. This time, a woman entered—tall, elegant, dressed in layers of flowing fabric. Her hair was adorned with silver pins shaped like feathers.
She looked at Ha-jin and smiled.
"She's the one, isn't she?" she asked.
The prince nodded slowly. "Yes. The girl from the stars."
The woman stepped closer, her eyes filled with wonder. "The Scarlet Flame returns to the palace at last."
Ha-jin's head spun. "I don't understand any of this. Please—just send me back. I don't want to be a flame. I want to go home."
The woman laid a gentle hand on her shoulder. "The moment you touched the sky and broke through time, your old life ended. You were chosen to rewrite fate."
"But I didn't choose it," Ha-jin whispered.
The prince turned back to her one last time, his expression unreadable. "Neither did I."
And with that, he left her in the chamber, the flames flickering behind him like the embers of a future neither of them could yet see.
Ha-jin sat in the silence, her wrists still bound, her heart aching, her mind reeling.
One thought pulsed in her chest like a slow-burning fire:
This wasn't the end.
It was only the beginning