Erel stood outside the familiar apartment door, his hand raised to knock. The hallway smelled like his childhood - floor wax and the faint scent of cooking from a dozen different units. He'd walked these halls countless times growing up, back when everything was simpler.
He knocked.
"Coming!" The voice was bright, warm. Footsteps approached, and the door opened to reveal Rae's mother, Mrs. Park. She was a small woman in her early fifties, with graying hair pulled back in a neat bun and laugh lines around her eyes. She wore a floral apron over her clothes, and flour dusted her hands.
"Erel!" Her face lit up with genuine pleasure. "It's been too long. Come in, come in."
He stepped into the apartment, immediately hit by the smell of fresh bread and the warmth that had nothing to do with temperature. The living room was exactly as he remembered - family photos covering every surface, soft furniture that invited you to sink in and stay awhile, plants in every corner catching the afternoon light.
"Rae-ah!" Mrs. Park called toward the kitchen. "Look who's here!"
Rae appeared in the doorway. Her black hair fell in waves past her shoulders, catching the light from the window and shifting between deep brown and pure black as she moved. Her face had lost its childhood roundness but kept all its warmth - high cheekbones that gave her an elegant look, but eyes that still crinkled at the corners when she was happy. She was wearing a simple cream sweater that brought out the golden undertones in her skin, and jeans that looked soft from countless washings. Something about the way she moved reminded him of sunlight on water - effortless and graceful.
Her dark eyes widened when she saw him, and Erel caught something flickering across her expression - surprise, yes, but underneath it relief and a warmth.
"Erel?" There was something in her voice he couldn't quite name. "What are you doing here?"
"I..." He suddenly felt awkward standing in the doorway, hyperaware of how long it had been since he'd visited, of how much distance he'd put between them. "I wanted to see you. To talk."
Mrs. Park looked between them, her expression knowing in that way parents had when they saw things their children thought they were hiding. "I'll just finish up in the kitchen. You two catch up." She disappeared back down the hall, leaving them alone.
Rae stepped closer, close enough that he could smell her shampoo - something floral and light that reminded him of spring mornings. "You look tired," she said softly, and there was real concern in her voice. "Are you eating enough? You're thinner than when I saw you last month."
It was such a Rae thing to say - worrying about him before anything else - that he almost smiled. "I'm fine. But I was wondering... could we go somewhere? Talk privately?"
Her eyebrows rose slightly, and he caught the way her lips pressed together - a tell he remembered from childhood. She was worried now, really worried. But she nodded without hesitation. "Of course. Let me get my jacket."
Twenty minutes later, they were walking up the familiar path to Namsan Tower. It wasn't the tower itself they were heading for, but a small overlook they'd discovered as kids - a hidden spot behind a cluster of trees where you could see the whole city spread out below. The walk was mostly silent, filled with the kind of comfortable quiet they used to share, but Erel could feel the tension building between them. Rae kept glancing at him sideways, her expression growing more concerned with each step.
Seoul stretched endlessly in every direction from their perch. The Han River curved through the urban landscape like a silver ribbon, reflecting the late afternoon sun in ripples of gold and orange. Glass towers caught the light and threw it back in brilliant flashes, their surfaces shifting between mirror-bright and transparent as clouds passed overhead. The newer districts rose like crystal forests, all clean lines and reaching spires, while older neighborhoods huddled between the modern giants like comfortable grandparents surrounded by restless children. Traditional tile roofs caught the light in patches of deep red and green, and narrow streets wound between buildings like the city's hidden arteries. The mountains in the distance were purple shadows against the sky, their peaks lost in haze, and the air carried the faint hum of eight million people living their lives - car horns and construction noise and the distant rumble of the subway, all blending into the endless song of urban existence.
"Remember when we used to come up here and count the buildings?" Rae said, settling down on the familiar rock where they'd sat countless times before. Her voice was deliberately light, but Erel could hear the undercurrent of worry.
"You always gave up first." Erel sat beside her, leaving space between them but close enough to feel her warmth. Close enough to catch the way she tucked a strand of hair behind her ear - another childhood habit.
"Because it was impossible. There are too many." She turned to look at him, and her expression shifted from nostalgic to serious in an instant. The late afternoon light caught her eyes, turning them almost amber. "What did you want to talk about? And don't say 'nothing important' because I know that look."
Erel stared out at the city, trying to find the words. His hands were clenched in his lap, and he could feel his heart beating faster. "Something happened yesterday. Something I need to tell you about."
Rae went still beside him, and when he glanced at her, he saw her press her lips together again. Waiting.
"I was pulled into a plane."
The words hung in the air between them. Rae's intake of breath was sharp, audible.
"What do you mean pulled in?" Her voice was carefully controlled, but he could hear the edge of panic underneath. "Erel, you always said you'd never... you promised you wouldn't go into the Imaginarium."
"I didn't have a choice." The words came out harsher than he intended, and he forced himself to soften his tone. "I don't know how it happened. I was walking home from work, just normal Tuesday evening stuff. I stopped outside this building because something felt wrong, and then..." He gestured helplessly. "One minute I was standing on the sidewalk, the next I was inside."
Rae was staring at him now, her face pale. "That's not how planes work. People choose to enter them. You can't just accidentally—"
"I know." Erel's voice was quiet. "I know that's not how it's supposed to work. But it happened anyway."
She was quiet for a long moment, and he could practically see her mind working, trying to process what he was telling her. Her hands were twisted together in her lap, knuckles white.
"What kind of plane was it?" she asked finally.
"Bluebeard. The fairy tale." He looked down at his hands. "There were other people there as well."
"Other people?" Rae's voice was barely above a whisper.
"No one survived."
Rae made a small sound - not quite a gasp, not quite a sob. When he looked at her, tears were starting to gather in her eyes.
"But you did," she said, and there was something desperate in her voice. "You made it out."
"Barely." He reached up unconsciously to touch the spot below his ear where his tattoo rested.
They sat in silence for a moment. The city continued its endless motion below them - traffic flowing along the arteries of streets, people moving like ants between the buildings, the river reflecting the changing light as the sun continued its descent toward the horizon.
Rae was crying silently now, tears tracking down her cheeks. She wiped them away with the back of her hand, but more kept coming.
"Erel." Her voice broke on his name. "Please. Whatever's happening, whatever this means - just walk away. Forget about your powers, forget about being an anomalite. You could have a normal life. You could stay here, stay safe..."
She trailed off, and there was something in her expression that made his chest tight.
"I can't," he said softly, and watched her face crumple. "Rae, I wish I could. More than anything. But I can't pretend this didn't happen."
"Why not?" The question came out as almost a wail. "Why can't you just ignore it? Pretend it was a bad dream?"
"Because it could happen again." He turned to face her fully, and the desperation in her eyes almost broke his resolve.
"But you don't know that will happen—"
"I don't know, it won't." His voice was firm now. "Rae, I was completely helpless in there. If it hadn't been for pure luck and abilities I barely know how to use, I'd be dead. And if something like that happens again..."
He let the sentence hang, watching understanding dawn in her eyes.
"So what are you saying?" she whispered.
"I'm leaving with Lyra. For a few months. We're going outside the sovereign zones so I can learn to use my abilities properly. Learn to fight."
The tears were coming faster now, and she didn't bother wiping them away. "Is it because we're so different? Because you're an anomalite and I'm not? Is that why you have to leave?"
"No." The word came out fierce, desperate. "God, no, Rae. It's never been about that. You know that."
"Then why?" Her voice shattered on the question. "Why do you have to go? Why can't you just stay here with me and be safe? Why can't we just..."
She stopped herself, but he heard the unfinished words anyway. Why can't we just be together?
"Because I won't be safe here." He reached for her hand without thinking, gripping it tightly. Her fingers were cold, and they trembled in his grip. "What happened yesterday proves that. Whatever's happening, I need to be ready for it. And I can't do that if I'm hiding from what I am."
She was sobbing openly now, her shoulders shaking. "I hate this. I hate that you have to be something so dangerous. I hate that the world is so broken that places like the Imaginarium exist. I hate that you might leave and never come back."
The last words came out as barely a whisper, but they hit him like a physical blow.
"I will come back." He squeezed her hand tighter. "I promise you, Rae. I will come back."
"You can't promise that." She looked at him through her tears, and her expression was raw, vulnerable in a way that made him want to promise her anything. "You can't know that you'll survive whatever you're walking into."
"No," he admitted. "I can't. But I can promise I'll try. I can promise I'll fight to come home."
The sun was starting to set now, painting the sky in shades of orange and pink and deep purple. The city lights were beginning to flicker on one by one, turning Seoul into a constellation spread across the earth. Office buildings became rectangles of warm yellow light, streetlights began their nightly watch, and the traffic below turned into rivers of white and red.
Finally, when the first stars appeared overhead and the city had fully transformed into its nighttime self, they walked back down the mountain. The path was lit by streetlights now, and their footsteps echoed in the quiet.
At her apartment door, Erel hesitated. The hallway was lit by harsh fluorescent lights that made everything look stark and final.
"I'll be back," he said again, and the words felt like a vow. "A few months, maybe less."
Rae nodded, wiping her eyes with the back of her hand. Her face was blotchy from crying, but she'd never looked more beautiful to him.
"Promise me you'll be careful," she said. "Promise me you won't take unnecessary risks."
"I promise."
He turned to go, but her voice stopped him.
"Wait." She took a step toward him, her expression desperate and hopeful and terrified all at once. "I want to say something."
But she just stood there, looking at him with those dark eyes full of everything she couldn't say.
"It's nothing," she whispered finally, and he could hear the lie in her voice. "Just... come home safe."
Erel walked away without looking back, but he could feel her watching him until he turned the corner and disappeared from sight.