The morning returned with sunlight streaming through Ji-hyeon's window, warming the wooden floor of the small house. From the outside, his life appeared simple—too simple. The house was old, its roof patched with straw and cloth, and the walls carried the scent of damp earth.
Inside, his mother was already awake, tending to their small fire pit.
"You were out late last night," she said without looking up.
Ji-hyeon hesitated. "I couldn't sleep."
She glanced at him briefly, her eyes gentle, but tired. "The forest isn't a place for wandering, Ji-hyeon."
He didn't respond. How could he explain the strange girl? The stone fragment? The vial in his pocket that still glowed faintly beneath his robe?
---
The village was alive again by noon. Merchants had come through, bringing rare fabrics and dried fruit from the west. Children ran along the muddy roads, chasing wooden hoops. Elders gathered by the well, sharing tales of old wars and past kings.
But to Ji-hyeon, everything felt like a mask.
The baker's warm laugh, the neighbor's cheerful greetings—they all felt too normal.
> "How can they live like nothing's wrong?" he thought.
Then his eyes caught someone across the square.
---
A boy.
About his age. Tall, with cropped dark hair and a sharp gaze. He was new—Ji-hyeon hadn't seen him before. The boy stood still, watching the village with the eyes of someone measuring something.
Ji-hyeon's instincts whispered.
That boy… he wasn't ordinary.
Before he could approach, the stranger disappeared into the crowd.
---
That night, Ji-hyeon returned to the stone fragment beneath the tree.
The symbols on it glowed faintly—more than yesterday.
As he knelt to observe it, a whisper slid into his mind.
> "The others have begun to stir…"
His heart raced.
> "You are not alone, Ji-hyeon."
---
He stood in silence, gripping the vial tighter in his hand.
For the first time… he wondered if the girl had meant more than just him.