Scene Ladder - Tumblr Posts
### Scene: Late night thoughts and papers
Haeseol sat cross-legged on the floor of her room, a towering stack of textbooks and assignments staring her down like some insurmountable beast. Sighing, she rubbed her temples and glanced at the engagement ring on her finger—the promise ring that still gleamed with a soft, unspoken weight. She twisted it absentmindedly, a bittersweet reminder of everything that had come to a halt. Sixteen, engaged to Shinichi Kozu, her childhood best friend, and yet here she was, buried under homework instead of planning the wedding they'd talked about for years.
Or rather, the wedding they had called off.
Her adoptive parents, Jin-Soo and Ji-Woo Kim, were halfway across the world in Korea, but they still found ways to nag her about her studies. No matter what kind of chaos she was dealing with—whether it was her fame as a revered shaman, the Red Shield keeping tabs on her, or being the subject of secret governmental interest—one thing remained constant: her grades.
“Gotta stay ahead of the game, right?” she muttered to herself, flipping open one of her notebooks. The words blurred for a moment before coming into focus, the overwhelming realization of how far behind she had fallen hitting her. Months of assignments to catch up on. It almost felt like a cruel joke.
As if on cue, there was a knock on the door, followed by the quiet, almost serene presence of Sayaka Inatsu, her unassuming yet formidable bodyguard. Clad in her shrine maiden robes, Sayaka entered the room with a calmness that belied her role. She wasn’t just Haeseol’s protector—she was sent by him. Shinichi Kozu.
Her fiancé.
Or... whatever he was now. The whole situation was complicated.
Sayaka gently placed a tray of tea on the desk next to Haeseol and regarded her with a soft smile. “You should take a break soon. I’ve organized your assignments by subject. You have English and mathematics due tomorrow, and your history paper on Monday.”
“Thanks, Sayaka.” Haeseol sighed, flipping through the assignments that Sayaka had already neatly arranged. It was kind of funny, having a bodyguard who not only protected her from physical threats but also ensured her homework was submitted on time.
Sayaka, as always, had been gentle but firm. If it weren’t for her, Haeseol knew she’d probably be swimming in overdue work. “Do you need help with anything?” Sayaka asked, standing nearby, her hands folded neatly in front of her.
“No, it’s fine,” Haeseol muttered, grabbing her English textbook and flipping it open. “I just... need to focus.” But she wasn’t fooling anyone, least of all herself. Focus was the last thing she had these days. Her mind kept wandering back to Shinichi. Back to Japan. Back to the life they had been planning, one that now seemed distant and almost unreal.
The wedding they’d been talking about for years—it had felt so close, like it was just around the corner. But now... Now, everything had changed. They had both agreed to call it off. Shinichi, ever the composed and understanding religious figure, had accepted it gracefully. He knew better than anyone that the weight of the world was on her shoulders. Still, the thought of it left an ache in her chest. They had grown up together, always thinking they'd end up together. It wasn’t supposed to be this way.
And yet, here she was, sixteen years old, with her wedding on indefinite hiatus, staring down a mountain of schoolwork. The irony wasn’t lost on her.
Sayaka, noticing the faraway look in Haeseol’s eyes, spoke again, her voice gentle but firm. “Master Kozu understands, you know. He wouldn’t want you to be distracted by things beyond your control. Right now, your studies are important.”
Haeseol sighed, pushing her textbooks aside for a moment and leaning back. “I know, I know. It’s just... sometimes it feels like everything’s happening too fast. One moment, I’m just a normal kid, and the next... I’m some kind of public figure, with governments watching me, the Red Shield, the shaman stuff, on top of finding out two weeks ago that THE Captain America is my biological father...”
“And your wedding,” Sayaka finished softly.
Haeseol nodded, her eyes falling back to the ring on her finger. “Yeah. That too.”
Sayaka’s serene smile remained, but there was a flicker of understanding in her eyes. “Your path is a difficult one, but you are not walking it alone.”
“I just wish I could hit the pause button on all of this,” Haeseol said quietly, glancing at the stack of homework. “I don’t know what I’m supposed to be doing half the time.”
Sayaka’s expression softened, and she kneeled next to Haeseol. “That’s why you take it one step at a time. Start with this assignment, and then the next. Your parents and Shinichi want you to succeed, but more than that, they want you to be happy.”
Haeseol nodded again, though the weight on her shoulders didn’t feel any lighter. “I know. I’m just tired of everything piling up, you know?”
Sayaka offered her a reassuring nod and stood, moving toward the door. “You’re strong, Haeseol. Don’t forget that. I’ll be back in a little while to check on you.” With that, she slipped out of the room, leaving Haeseol alone with her thoughts and her mountain of schoolwork.
Haeseol leaned her head back against the wall, staring up at the ceiling. Strong. That’s what everyone kept telling her. But even strong people got tired, right?
She picked up her pen, ready to tackle her English homework. At least if she could stay ahead of her assignments, that would be one thing in her life she could control. And maybe, just maybe, everything else would fall into place eventually.
But for now, there was a pile of papers to get through.
### Scene: An Unwelcome Guest
The air was heavy with the smell of burning incense, a thick haze hanging in the small room. Haeseol sat cross-legged on the wooden floor, her body still aching from the most recent possession. Sweat beaded at her forehead, her vision blurring slightly as she tried to center herself. The spirits had been restless all week, and tonight, their presence pressed against her like a suffocating weight.
She could feel them—restless, circling, watching.
But it was one in particular that made her chest tighten with unease.
The room was dim, lit only by the soft glow of candlelight flickering in the corners, casting long shadows on the walls. But even the shadows felt wrong tonight. They moved on their own, creeping, shifting in ways that made her skin crawl.
Then, a cold gust swept through the room. The candles flickered violently, some extinguishing with soft pops. The darkness pressed in closer, and the hairs on the back of her neck stood on end. Haeseol’s breath caught in her throat.
It was here.
The spirit’s presence filled the room, palpable and oppressive. She didn’t need to open her eyes to know it was there, lingering in the corner where the shadows pooled unnaturally.
And then she heard it. That voice. The one that haunted her dreams.
"Shaman..."
The voice was nasally, hoarse, a rasp that grated against her ears like the grinding of bones. It slithered through the air, wrapping around her like a noose, tightening with every syllable.
"You’ve been avoiding me..."
Haeseol’s body went rigid, her muscles locking in place. She forced her eyes open, her gaze darting to the corner where the darkness seemed to pulse and writhe. And there it was—emerging from the shadows, its skeletal form bending unnaturally as it stepped into the dim light.
Its body was long, grotesque, and emaciated, skin stretched tight over bones that seemed too large for its frame. What little flesh it had was gray and mottled, like it had been rotting for centuries. Its limbs were unnervingly long, the fingers twisted into jagged claws. And its face—if it could even be called that—was a gaping maw, dark and hollow, with thin strands of skin clinging to its skull-like features.
It moved with an unnatural grace, each step deliberate, each movement precise. It didn’t lurch or stumble like other spirits. No, this one moved like a predator. Calculated. Patient.
Haeseol’s heart pounded in her chest, her breath shallow as she stared at the creature. She had dealt with angry spirits before. Violent ones. Vengeful ones. But this one… this was something else. Something older. Something that shouldn’t exist.
The spirit tilted its head, observing her with hollow, sunken eyes. Its grin stretched wider, too wide, like its face was splitting open.
"So... young," it rasped, voice dripping with mockery. "And yet, you think you can stand against me? Against what I am?"
It took another step forward, its elongated fingers twitching as if testing the air between them.
Haeseol swallowed hard, forcing herself to speak despite the lump lodged in her throat. “You don’t belong here,” she managed, her voice trembling. “Go back.”
The creature chuckled, a low, rasping sound that reverberated through the room. It was amused.
"You think you have control over me, little shaman?" it hissed, its voice like nails scraping across stone. "Do you even know what I am? What you face? Or are you just a child... playing at a game too big for you?"
It inched closer, its skeletal form casting an impossibly long shadow across the floor. Haeseol tried to move, to shift her body into a protective stance, but her limbs felt heavy, like they were anchored to the ground.
"I know who you are," it whispered, leaning in closer, its breath cold and rancid against her skin. "I know your blood. I know your grandmother. She couldn’t stop me. Do you think you can?"
Her heart skipped a beat, fear gripping her chest. The spirit’s words hit her like a punch to the gut. It knew her grandmother. Ming-Ji, the shaman who had taught her everything she knew. The one who had fought and exorcised more spirits than Haeseol could count.
And this thing… it had survived.
Haeseol’s pulse quickened, but she forced herself to keep her gaze steady, her breath controlled. She couldn’t show fear. Not to this thing.
“I’m not her,” she whispered, her voice barely audible. “But I’ll end you.”
The spirit’s laugh was cold, chilling. It tilted its head, regarding her like a curious insect.
"Brave words... for one so fragile."
In one swift motion, it lunged. Haeseol’s body reacted on instinct, her hand shooting out as she uttered a string of ancient incantations. The air crackled with energy, the wards she had set up earlier flickering to life in defense. The creature stopped just short of her, its face mere inches from hers, stopped only by the barrier she had created.
It hovered there, staring into her eyes, its breath rasping, foul and cold.
"You’ll break eventually, shaman," it whispered, its voice soft and insidious. "They all do."
With a final, lingering look, the spirit retreated back into the shadows, disappearing as suddenly as it had appeared. The air in the room lightened, the oppressive weight lifting as it faded.
But even as it left, Haeseol could still feel its presence. The lingering threat. The promise of its return.
She exhaled shakily, her body collapsing onto the floor as the adrenaline drained from her limbs.
She had faced countless spirits, but this one… this one was different. It wasn’t just a lost soul or a malevolent ghost. It was something far worse. Something ancient.
And it was watching. Waiting.
"I know your blood..."
The words echoed in her mind as she lay there, the cold sweat soaking through her clothes. She knew it would be back. It always came back.
Scene: The Wedding Invitation
The morning light filtered through the windows of Haeseol’s family estate, casting soft golden beams across the room where she sat. A soft knock echoed at the door, followed by the entrance of a familiar face—one of the attendants. The woman’s eyes were bright with excitement as she approached Haeseol, bowing slightly as she extended a beautifully wrapped invitation.
“Ms. Kim, you’ve been invited to attend the wedding of Baek Il-ho and Min Su-yeon. They would be honored if you could grace them with your presence.”
Haeseol blinked in surprise, taking the invitation and studying its intricate details. She was used to these kinds of invitations—the expectations that came with her status—but something about this one felt different. Maybe it was the careful wording, the humility in the request. There was a sincerity to it that touched her.
She glanced up at the attendant, a soft smile curving her lips. "I’ll attend," she replied gently, knowing that her presence would be seen as a blessing to the couple. Weddings were joyous occasions, and offering her blessing, her presence, always felt like a small way to bring happiness to others.
---
Meeting the Groom
The sun was setting when Haeseol arrived at the estate of Lord Baek Il-ho. The sky was painted in shades of pink and orange, casting a romantic glow over the venue. As she stepped out of the carriage, she was greeted by the sight of the groom standing near the entrance, clearly nervous but eager. Lord Baek, a tall and gentle man with a kind face, bowed deeply upon seeing her.
“Miss Haeseol,” he greeted, his voice warm yet respectful. “It’s an honor that you’ve come. Lady Su-yeon and I… we are truly grateful.”
Haeseol gave him a warm smile, feeling his genuine humility. “It’s my pleasure to be here,” she responded. “A wedding is a sacred event, and I’m glad I can share in your joy.”
They exchanged a few more pleasantries before Lord Baek cleared his throat, shifting nervously. “There is… one thing,” he said hesitantly. “Lady Su-yeon told me she has always admired your singing. I know this is a bold request, but if it wouldn’t be too much trouble, would you consider singing during the ceremony?”
Haeseol blinked, momentarily taken aback by the request. It wasn’t often that someone asked her to sing at a wedding. Her reputation usually came from her family’s status, not her voice. But seeing the hopeful look in the groom’s eyes, she found it impossible to refuse.
“I would be honored,” she answered softly. “I’ll sing something fitting.”
---
The Wedding Ceremony
The wedding day arrived, and the atmosphere was filled with an air of quiet reverence. Guests had gathered beneath a canopy of red lanterns, their soft glow flickering in the evening breeze. Haeseol stood by a grand piano set at the edge of the courtyard, her fingers lightly brushing the keys as she took a deep breath.
She had chosen a song—a song that came to her almost instinctively, as though it had been lingering in the corners of her mind for years. The melody was soft, gentle, like a lullaby from a distant memory.
As she began to sing, her voice carried through the air, a haunting and beautiful sound that silenced the crowd.
---
Haeseol’s Performance of Yueliang’s Song
( listen to it here - cc for subtitles | slight flashing and blood imagery )
Her voice began softly, almost like a whisper, as her fingers danced across the piano keys:
Step by step, tears fall under the cold moonlight
Despite my terrible fate, I eventually met you
A gentle breeze blows red lanterns into the night sky
My dry heart overflows with you.
The notes rose delicately as her voice gained strength, every word laced with emotion. Unknowingly, she was singing the song of Yueliang—the ancient song that had been passed through time, connecting love and fate in a way that transcended lifetimes.
Before I knew it, it started raining
And you blossomed in my heart like a flower
I give myself to you
You, who embraced me with kindness.
Her hands moved across the piano as the melody swelled, carrying the weight of every emotion. The guests sat enraptured, not daring to move, as Haeseol’s voice wove the tale of enduring love. Her own heart began to ache as she sang the words, though she didn’t know why.
A destiny woven from above, bound by red thread
Even when it's tangled, it keeps going
Even a painful death can't stop it
As long as we hold on to each other, we'll be together forever.
Her eyes fluttered closed as she felt the depth of the words, the sadness and beauty of them sinking deep into her soul. It felt as though the song belonged to someone else, yet she could feel it in her own heart—an ancient love, unbreakable, despite the trials it faced.
Your face reflected in the ripples of that blue lake
If I could always see the person I long for
Gentle and kind, I brushed your dark hair
I'll never forget the feeling of my fingers around it.
Her voice trembled slightly, not from nervousness but from the sheer weight of the emotions the song carried. She didn’t understand it, but it felt as if she was channeling something from long ago, something powerful and filled with longing.
At the far end in my nightmare
You're the light that banishes the darkness
I smile at you
You, who God gave me as a companion.
As the final lines of the song approached, Haeseol’s voice grew softer, more intimate, as though she were singing directly to someone in the room. She didn’t know who, but the feeling was undeniable.
A destiny woven from above, bound by red thread
Even when it's tangled, it keeps going
Even a painful death can't stop it
Because you and I are connected,
I'll be the sun and stay by your side until the end of my days.
Her fingers stilled on the piano as the last note faded into the evening air. Silence followed. For a moment, no one moved, as if the entire world had been held in place by the song. Then, slowly, the guests began to clap, the sound building into a wave of applause.
Haeseol stood, offering a soft bow, but her heart was still heavy with the lingering sadness of the song. She wasn’t sure why she had chosen it, or where it had come from, but something told her it wasn’t just a song. It was a memory. A promise. Something far deeper than she could yet understand.
As she looked out at the happy couple, she hoped that their love would not be bound by the same fate as the one in her song.
# Tears of the Moon | Memories forgotten
### Scene: Who are You?
Haeseol drifted into a familiar haze, the sort of dream that didn’t quite feel like her own, but more like an echo of someone else’s life. She’d experienced these strange dream-memories before—fragments of spirits or souls that passed through her, leaving pieces behind. This time, it was different. She wasn't just watching; she was inside, feeling every detail as if it were hers.
The scene flickered to life around her. The smell of ink and old parchment filled her senses, and the soft rustling of a silk robe brushed against her skin. Her hands—no, not her hands—grasped a slender brush, carefully crafting each stroke across rice paper. She felt the weight of the brush in her fingers, the controlled precision of its movements. The light of the oil lamp was warm, and the soft glow it cast seemed to flicker as her thoughts churned.
What... what is this? Haeseol thought, panic bubbling beneath her calm exterior. But her hands—Yueliang’s hands—kept moving, dipping the brush in ink, continuing the flow of writing on the paper.
To be the Yin is to embody a role that demands sacrifice...
The words didn’t belong to her, but they filled her mind with meaning. Haeseol could feel Yueliang’s emotions weaving through each line: the burden of expectation, the unspoken weight of sacrifice. It was strange, unsettling to be so intimately connected to someone else’s thoughts, especially when she wasn’t in control. But there was a familiar thread in Yueliang’s emotions—this wasn’t so different from her own life, the pressure to maintain a certain image, to lock away parts of yourself because the world demanded it.
Is this a dream, or am I reliving her memories? The confusion gnawed at Haeseol. She could only follow the sensations, unable to break free.
A sudden chill. Haeseol—or was it Yueliang—shivered, her skin prickling with the unmistakable feeling of being watched. The familiar rush of adrenaline hit, but before she could react, a voice pierced the stillness.
“What are you writing about?”
Yueliang’s surprise was visceral. The shock, the sharp jolt of fear—they reverberated through Haeseol’s body, making her heart leap in her chest. The brush slipped from her fingers, sending ink splattering across the paper, and a strangled gasp escaped her lips. She whipped around, her pulse hammering in her ears.
He stood there. A tall man, his body disciplined and commanding, with long black hair falling past his shoulders. His red eyes gleamed in the dim light, a mix of amusement and something darker. Haeseol felt Yueliang’s reaction to him—an unspoken, complicated mixture of awe, irritation, and a sense of being completely overpowered by his presence. Zhongyuan.
Gods, he’s tall... Haeseol's thoughts blended with Yueliang’s, a disorienting swirl of fear and something else she couldn’t name.
“Zhongyuan!” she heard Yueliang’s voice tremble, felt the panic gripping her. Why am I feeling this so intensely? It was overwhelming, as though every sensation was amplified in this body.
“How long have you been standing there?” Yueliang’s voice, edged with indignation, tried to regain some semblance of composure. Haeseol wanted to pull back, retreat into herself, but there was no escape. She was bound to this moment, to Yueliang’s fear, to the wild beating of her heart.
Zhongyuan’s grin widened, the sharpness of it making Haeseol’s skin crawl. “Long enough. You shriek like a startled bird. How amusing.”
Asshole, Haeseol thought, a flash of anger surging up from within. But it wasn’t just her anger. It was Yueliang’s too, tangled with embarrassment. Haeseol could feel Yueliang struggling to maintain some level of dignity in front of him. But it was futile. The man radiated power, a raw, cold confidence that left no room for anyone else's control.
“Give it back!” Yueliang’s voice snapped, frustration mounting as Zhongyuan plucked the fallen journal from the floor. Haeseol felt Yueliang's arms flailing, pushing against his chest, but it was like trying to move a mountain. He barely acknowledged her efforts, towering over her with a lazy sort of arrogance.
The journal. Haeseol's—or was it Yueliang’s?—stomach twisted in dread as he began flipping through the pages. A surge of humiliation washed over her, the vulnerability of having her private thoughts exposed. It was as if a part of her soul had been laid bare, and Zhongyuan’s mocking voice drove a spike through that raw vulnerability.
Zhongyuan, the embodiment of Yin... a force of nature...
Haeseol couldn’t tell where Yueliang’s mortification ended and her own began. It was too real. Too close. Every word he read aloud felt like a blow, his amusement cutting deeper with each passing moment.
“Why so protective?” His tone softened, teasing, but Haeseol could sense something more. It wasn’t just mockery. There was curiosity there, something stirring beneath his cold, composed exterior. He turned another page, reading aloud with a more serious edge.
Does he ever long for the simplicity of being just a man, without the weight of an empire resting on his shoulders?
A silence fell between them, heavy and fraught with unsaid things. Haeseol felt Yueliang’s breath catch in her throat, the way her body tensed as Zhongyuan’s eyes flickered with an emotion too fleeting to define. Loneliness. Was that what she had sensed in him all along?
“You think I’m lonely?” His voice, stripped of its usual teasing, sounded raw.
Yueliang’s—Haeseol’s—throat tightened. “I don’t know...” the words tumbled out, hesitant, unsure. “I just... I wonder if you ever wish you could just be yourself.”
The vulnerability in that moment was suffocating. Haeseol could feel Yueliang’s heart racing, her pulse thrumming like a drumbeat in her ears. The weight of their shared gaze was unbearable, as if the very air between them had thickened with the gravity of her confession.
This is too much, Haeseol thought, her own emotions blending with Yueliang’s until she couldn’t tell where one ended and the other began. I can’t breathe.
And then, just as suddenly, the tension broke. Zhongyuan handed the journal back, his touch lingering, his expression inscrutable. The mask of the Yin was back in place, but Haeseol had seen a glimpse of something deeper. Something real.
“You’re more insightful than I gave you credit for,” he said softly, his voice almost gentle.
And then he was gone, his presence vanishing like a shadow retreating into the night. Haeseol, still trapped in Yueliang’s body, stood there, clutching the journal to her chest, the warmth of his touch still lingering on her skin.
Perhaps there’s more to both of us than meets the eye.
Haeseol felt the truth of those words settle deep within her.
### Scene: The Tale Of Yueliang
In her dream, Hae-seol found herself enveloped in the body of Yueliang again, her senses sharp yet foreign as she moved through the dreamscape. It felt so real—so vivid—as if Yueliang's memories were her own. She stood at the riverbank, her grandmother’s hand gripping hers. Hae-seol’s heart jolted at the sensation. It reminded her of her own grandmother, whose touch was just as firm, just as blind.
Blind… like halmeoni? Hae-seol thought as she gazed at Han-Yi. It was strange, this merging of memories and lives. She felt Yueliang’s curiosity, her growing awareness of the vast destiny laid upon her, but within that, Hae-seol could feel her own thoughts bubbling beneath the surface.
Is this what halmeoni saw for me too? Hae-seol wondered, watching Yueliang's grandmother whisper about her fate, her role as the Yang destined to destroy the Yin. Han-Yi’s warning sounded eerily similar to the foreboding lessons Hae-seol had heard from her own family, cautioning her about forces she barely understood, about a future she was meant to face.
As the dream swept forward, Hae-seol felt herself living through Yueliang’s life. She was there when her brother died, her heart aching as if it was her own family’s grief she was witnessing. She was there when her grandmother went blind. The sorrow, the weight of responsibility, all of it settled heavily in her chest. Hae-seol wanted to scream at the injustice of it all—just like how she sometimes wished she could scream at her own life, the endless expectations and secrets her family had placed on her.
Then came the moment when Yueliang asked her mother if she would be sad if she were gone. Hae-seol felt the hesitation in the mother’s hands, the unspoken fear trembling between them. She knew this conversation too well. There were times in her own life when she had asked similar questions, testing the waters of her family’s love, wondering what her absence would truly mean.
But unlike Yueliang, I never volunteered to fight anything. The thought stung, sharper than any arrow. Yueliang's determination to face her destiny, to protect those she loved, was something Hae-seol both admired and resented. Yueliang had a choice. Hae-seol felt like she never did.
The dream shifted again, carrying Hae-seol to the day Yueliang climbed the mountain to meet Zhongyuan. As Yueliang stood before the monstrous emperor, Hae-seol felt her pulse quicken. The fear, the resolve—Yueliang’s emotions blended with Hae-seol’s own as she gazed at Zhongyuan’s cold, calculating eyes.
Is this what it means to face your fate? To willingly walk into the lion’s den? Hae-seol’s thoughts raced as Yueliang made her proposition, pleading for an end to the violence. It felt impossible, yet Yueliang believed in it so fully.
As time passed in the dream, Hae-seol watched the relationship between Yueliang and Zhongyuan change. What began in fear and enmity transformed into something deeper, more profound. Yueliang’s love for him was pure, despite the darkness of their past and the cruelty that had once defined him. Hae-seol found herself unexpectedly moved by their bond.
Can love really change everything? she wondered, the warmth of their shared moments filling her heart. It was a hope Hae-seol didn’t even realize she had carried, buried deep beneath the layers of duty and expectation.
But just as quickly as it blossomed, it was torn apart. Hae-seol felt the horror of Yueliang’s body betraying her, felt the anguish as she watched herself strike Zhongyuan down. The arrow pierced him, and in that moment, Hae-seol could feel her own heart shatter alongside Yueliang’s. Tears welled up in her eyes, the pain so overwhelming, so unbearable.
No...! I don’t want to see this! I don’t want to feel this! Hae-seol tried to pull away, but the dream kept her rooted there, forcing her to experience every excruciating second as Yueliang cradled the dying Zhongyuan in her arms.
"My love. My pain. Even my very last breath, all of it is yours."
The words echoed through Hae-seol’s mind, cutting deeper than any sword. She felt Yueliang’s despair, her desperate longing for a different fate, and for the first time, Hae-seol truly understood the cost of love. It was everything. It was pain. It was sacrifice. It was the kind of devotion that left you broken and empty, hoping for a future you might never see.
As the dream began to fade, Hae-seol heard the faint sound of Yueliang’s voice, singing a song of hope for their next life, where maybe—just maybe—they could be together again. But Hae-seol was left wondering if that kind of love, that kind of sacrifice, was worth the price.
Is this what it means to be destined for something greater? To lose everything, even the people you love?
Hae-seol woke with tears in her eyes, her chest heavy, her thoughts tangled in the threads of the dream. It was Yueliang’s story, but it felt much too close to her own.