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starlost-andfound · 6 days ago

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𝐒𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐫 𝐈𝐧 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐏𝐢𝐧𝐞𝐬

Pairing: mountaineer/avatar!hyunjin x explorer!afab!reader, non idol au, strangers to soulmates

Synopsis: on your journey to exploring a rumored mythical land, you get injured wake up in the house of a stranger who supposedly lives in the mountains. now, all of a sudden, the world decides to bend.

Warnings: fantasy, action?, romance, gentle forest vibes, gods and avatars of gods

A/n: SHE'S BACKK!! AHH I'm so excited to show all of you the things I've been working on!! 5k+ words

Day Seventeen. Location: Approx. 43°N, unknown elevation.

Weather: Overcast. Unseasonably warm. Mist hugging the ground like a second skin.

I’m seventeen days into the fieldwork, and still no confirmed signs of Dawnhollow’s perimeter. Locals in the northernmost town only referred to it in riddles: “Where the light bends like memory” and “The place that doesn’t want to be found.” I thought they were just being cryptic for the sake of their own fun. But now… I’m not sure they were joking.

The forest has changed.

No matter how many markers I carve, they vanish. Paths I’ve walked twice don’t look the same. There’s no phone signal anymore, and my GPS turned itself off yesterday around dusk. I’m not scared—yet—but there’s something alive here. Not threatening. Not kind either. Just… watching. Like the woods are waiting.

I haven’t seen another human face in five days.

But I swear I saw a paw print near my firepit last night. Huge. Not bear. Closer to wolf. But too symmetrical. Too clean.

Anyway. I’m pushing deeper in today. If I find nothing, I’ll turn back tomorrow.

I hope someone reads this someday.

Your boots sink softly into the moss-blanketed earth, muffled by fog and the quiet hush that’s too perfect to be natural. Every tree here grows like it was placed with intention—no tangles, no chaos. Only stillness. Pines stretch high into a clouded sky, their trunks dark and wet with morning dew. The scent is deep earth, sap, and something floral you can’t place. You step over a fallen branch, your breath catching in your throat when you spot it.

— Y/N

A shimmer.

Just up ahead. Not light exactly… but like heat waves in the air, flickering beside the base of a wide cedar tree. You squint, stepping closer, one foot in front of the other. Carefully. The shimmering pulses, subtle like something brushing at the edge of your mind. Like a memory trying to form.

You pull your journal out of your satchel to make a note then stop.

Because something is tied to the tree. It’s a charm. Woven fibers, wrapped with tiny dried petals and what looks like red thread. Handmade. A totem, maybe. Or a ward. You step closer. The edge of your boot catches on a root you didn’t see. Your balance falters. Your journal slips from your hands.

Then, you fall.

A gasp tears from your throat as the slope gives out beneath you. Rocks scrape your palms. You tumble, twisting brief flashes of green and sky and bark—until—

CRACK.

Muffled like underwater, but laced with tension.

Your head hits something hard. Then everything goes dark. You don’t know how much time passes. There’s no light. No thought. Just floating.

And then, a bark. Sharp. Close. Not threatening. A voice, male. Deep.

“Baekho. Stay.”

“She’s bleeding.”

The bark again, fainter now. Then silence. A warm pressure at your side. Something soft—fur?—nuzzling against your arm. And then the world pulls you under completely.

___

Warmth surrounds you. Not the kind that hugs your skin from sunlight but the kind born of shelter. Of fire. Of a room with walls. Blankets, thick and coarse, have been draped over you, tucked close like someone was making sure you wouldn’t freeze.

Your eyes flicker open to the soft hiss and crackle of firewood, the scent of burning pine thick in the air.

The floor beneath you is made of smooth, uneven wood planks. A carved bowl—still steaming—rests on a low table beside you, and you catch the scent of herbs and something like bone broth. You shift your weight slowly, cautiously, sitting up just an inch, pain blooms behind your forehead. White-hot, sharp, and immediate. Like your skull forgot how to hold your thoughts.

You groan softly, hissing through your teeth, and bring a hand to your temple.

This isn’t your tent. This isn’t your camp. This isn’t anywhere you recognize. Your breath quickens slightly as your eyes dart across the room. It’s… beautiful, in an ancient, quiet way. Every surface is wood some pieces sanded smooth, others still wearing the roughness of bark. Moss is growing through the cracks in the corners. Vines wrap around the wooden beams above like they’ve been given permission to stay.

The house feels old. Not broken, just… ancient. Handmade. Not modern. Not even rustic. Like it came from a world you’ve only read about in forgotten folktales. You reach for your satchel, for your journal but your heart sinks when your fingers find only the soft weave of wool. It's gone.

You sit up fully—and instantly regret it. The pain strikes again, a ringing pulse in your skull, and you shut your eyes tight until the world stops spinning.

Then a bark. Loud. Deep. It echoes slightly, bouncing off the walls outside. It’s not a dog’s bark—not exactly. There's something low in it. Something powerful. Your heart stutters. Another bark. Closer this time. Then the sound of heavy paws padding against the wooden porch.

You freeze, sitting still, clutching the blanket like it might defend you. Then the door creaks open, not all the way—just enough to let in a blur of movement.

He steps inside. The creature is huge. White. Thick, snow-like fur with streaks of silvery grey across his shoulders and flanks. Muscular. Elegant. A predator, but calm. His eyes are ice-blue, so pale they almost glow. His ears twitch as he locks onto you—and he tilts his head.

You gasp, shuffling backward into the couch. “Hey—no. Stay back.” Your voice is shaky, your hands raised. But he doesn’t growl. Doesn’t pounce. He just studies you. Curious. Gentle. Still—you don't know what he is. What this is.

“Back off, okay?” you whisper, your voice trembling. “I don’t know you. I don’t—please just…”

His ears flick again, like he hears something you don’t.

And then—

“Baekho.”

The name floats in from outside. Male voice. Calm. Firm. The beast’s ears perk up and he immediately turns, bounding out through the open door. You blink, stunned.

Baekho…?

The bark echoes again in the distance, followed by the unmistakable rhythm of someone walking over wood—boots, maybe, brushing against the porch.

And then—

He appears.

The man.

Tall. Lithe. Ethereal.

He steps into the doorway, framed by the light behind him like he walked out of a painting. His hair is shoulder-length, thick waves of black with hints of amber where the sunlight touches it. His skin is smooth, golden-brown—like he’s lived beneath the trees his whole life. His eyes are a warm, piercing brown, deep-set beneath feathery lashes, and they soften the second they land on you.

He wears a dark tunic—stitched, not manufactured—layered under a sleeveless coat made of dark mossy green and weather-worn leather. There are beads tied around his wrist, a satchel strapped across his chest, and a knife glinting faintly at his hip.

He looks like a piece of the forest became a man.

He tilts his head, brows raised slightly. “You hit your head pretty hard, didn’t you?” His voice is low. Velvet with a rasp. The kind of tone that slides into your ribs and settles behind your heartbeat.

You blink up at him, heart thudding, trying to find words that feel real. “Where… where am I?”

He takes a slow step toward you, keeping his movements measured, hands loose at his sides. “Safe. For now.”

“Who—who are you?”

He gives a ghost of a smile, leaning down to pick up the steaming bowl from the table. He holds it out to you with care. “We’ll get to that, Forest Girl,” he says quietly. “But first—you need to eat.”

Your head still pounds as you sit up straighter, tugging the blanket around your shoulders. Baekho—this enormous, snow-pelted beast—stands guard nearby, his crystalline eyes flicking between you and the man as if weighing whether you’re a threat… or something worth protecting.

You blink at him, steadying your voice.

“…What breed is he?” you ask cautiously, your gaze locked on the creature's powerful form. “I've never seen anything like him.”

He glances over his shoulder, already walking toward a corner of the room that resembles a kitchen—if kitchens came out of folklore. There’s no oven, no sink, no tile. Just wooden counters, stone bowls, and bundles of herbs hanging upside-down from the beams.

“He’s a Duskwolf,” The man calls over his shoulder casually. “Mountain-born. White-coated. Rare temper. Loyal to death.”

You stare at Baekho in disbelief. “That’s not a real breed.” He doesn’t turn around. “That’s what everyone says—until they see one.” You look back at the creature. Baekho. His tail flicks once, and you swear he almost smirks. You decide not to push it.

“Can you stand?” He asks, now moving fluidly through the space—placing what looks like roasted root vegetables into a deep wooden bowl, carefully spooning a thick broth over them.

“I think so,” you say. You pull the blanket off and swing your legs over the edge of the couch, planting your feet on the cool floor.

Big mistake. The second you push up to stand, your balance tips like a boat in a storm. The world sways. You reach out instinctively—and instead of hitting the floor, you land against a thick, soft wall of fur.

Baekho. He nudges his massive shoulder into your side to keep you upright, his hot breath huffing out as if annoyed that you tried to move without him.

“…Thanks,” you say quietly, genuinely.

He responds with a low growl—not threatening, but grumbly. Like an old man muttering under his breath.

You smile despite yourself. The man turns at the sound, eyes scanning you both. “He’s picky with people,” he says simply, placing the now-filled plate onto a wide wooden table. “You must be charming.”

You wobble over with Baekho’s help and lower yourself into the sturdy chair. The smell of the stew is richer up close—earthy, spiced, almost nostalgic. Your stomach growls on cue. He raises an eyebrow as he leans back against the counter, arms crossed. “So… you come around here often?”

You glance up, brows furrowed. “You trying to flirt with me or interrogate me?”

A crooked smile tugs at his lips, the first real flash of warmth you’ve seen in him. “Both.”

You roll your eyes, half-smiling. “I’m an explorer. Been out here about... 19 days now. Maybe more. My compass jammed somewhere past the lowland cliffs and I lost track.” He hums, folding his arms across his chest. “Explorer. Hm. And what exactly are you looking for?”

You pause just a moment.

“…Dawnhollow.”

The moment the name leaves your lips, the man barks out a laugh—low and amused, like he’s heard a good joke.

“Oh,” he says, walking over to feed Baekho from a shallow stone bowl near the fireplace. “So you're one of them.” You blink, unsure whether to be offended or confused. “Excuse me?”

He doesn't look at you when he answers. “The ones who try to reach a little too far.”

Your brows knit. “I’ve crossed six biomes, survived two landslides, outrun a storm, and climbed an entire cliff wall with a fractured wrist. I didn’t come ‘too far.’ I came far enough.”

But Hyunjin doesn’t respond. He simply gestures to your plate.

“Eat.”

You frown, glancing down at the stew. “What… exactly is it?”

“Root broth. Black moss. Cooked stag leaf. A few wild tubers. Nothing poisonous, I promise.” You narrow your eyes but take the first spoonful anyway.

It’s warm, flavorful… shockingly good. The broth is rich and buttery, with just enough kick to make you pause. The tubers are soft, and there’s a peppery herb layered underneath it all that makes your tongue tingle slightly. You let out a surprised breath.

“…Okay. Wow. This is actually—”

“Told you,” he cuts in, feeding Baekho slowly with his palm. The creature licks his fingers gently, like a well-trained lion.

You take another bite, then look up again, studying him closely. “Really. Who are you?”

He glances at you over his shoulder, one brow raised. “I didn’t tell you? Hyunjin.”

You swallow. “Hyunjin who?”

He offers a faint smirk, looking back at the fire now. “Doesn’t matter. I’m not in the books.” Your lips press together. “Where are you from, then?”

He goes quiet.

For a long moment, you think he didn’t hear you.

But then he says simply, still not turning around—

“…Far enough.”

Your spoon clicks gently against the sides of the bowl as you keep eating—slowly now, not because you're not hungry, but because your mind is whirring with questions. The kind you’ve collected over weeks of solitude, scribbled in half-frozen journal entries or whispered into the night when no one was around to listen. And now? Now there’s someone who might actually know.

You glance up at him again, Hyunjin, still tending to Baekho, his long fingers careful with every motion. He moves like someone used to quiet, someone who prefers it. Still, you can’t hold back.

“So… what is this place?” you ask softly. “This isn’t just a cabin thrown together from scraps. It’s… old. Like, really old. The way the beams are joined… I’ve only seen architecture like this in lost settlement diagrams.”

He chuckles low in his throat. “You make it sound haunted.” You raise a brow. “Is it?”

“No,” he says, settling into a seat across from you. “It’s just mine. Built it myself. Well, most of it.”

You tilt your head. “And how exactly did you find me?”

His gaze flickers toward the door. “Baekho heard you fall. He has ears like a hawk.”

“So he dragged me here?”

Hyunjin smiles faintly. “No. I carried you. He guarded the path.” That shouldn’t make your stomach flutter but it does. You look away quickly, focusing on your stew.

“And how long was I out?” you ask.

“About a day and a half,” he answers, voice casual. “You took a nasty hit. You’re lucky your skull’s still intact.”

You hum. A silence settles briefly between you—comfortable, almost—until his voice returns.

“What do you hope to find when you reach Dawnhollow?”

You freeze slightly, then lower your spoon and exhale.

“A beginning,” you admit. “Or… an answer, I guess. I’ve been following myths, manuscripts, cryptic field notes for years. All of them point to something out here. Something untouched. Something that might explain what happened to the Old Explorers.”

Hyunjin watches you closely.

“They say Dawnhollow was once a place where time bent,” you continue. “Where people found knowledge too big for their bodies. Where maps stopped working because the ground itself chose who could enter. And I—” You pause. “I need to see it. I need to know.”

Hyunjin doesn't respond right away. Instead, he leans back slightly, arms crossed.

“Do you plan on finishing the journey alone?”

You blink. “That was the plan, yeah.” He tilts his head, considering. “I’d advise against it.”

You narrow your eyes slightly. “Why?” His expression shifts—serious now, the soft curve of his mouth flattening. “Dawnhollow’s path isn’t friendly to everyone. Some trails take from you more than you’re willing to give.”

You lean forward, heart thudding. “So it is real, then.”

He meets your gaze evenly and nods. “Very real.” Your eyes widen slightly. “And have you… been there?” Hyunjin’s gaze drops for just a moment. “Few make it. Others die along the way. And some reach it, but never return. That’s just how it is.”

You sit back, not satisfied. “How do you know all that?” He doesn’t answer.

“Have you tried?” you ask again.

“Doesn’t matter,” he murmurs.

“Yes, it does. You’re the first person I’ve met who even talks about it like it’s real. If you know something—anything—I need to—”

“Some things aren’t meant to be found,” he interrupts softly. You frown. “That’s not your choice to make for me.”

He looks up sharply. “I didn’t say it was.”

“But you’re acting like it.” Hyunjin’s jaw tightens. Baekho, who’d been lying near the fire now, lifts his head.

“I’ve survived this long out here, you know,” you add, voice stronger. “And I’ve come further than anyone I’ve ever studied. So don’t look at me like I’m fragile.”

“I didn’t say you were,” he says, low and calm—but there’s something stiff beneath his tone now. His eyes dart to the fire, then to the stew in your hand, then away again.

You press forward. “What happened to you out there? Is that why you live here? Away from everything?”

“Stop.”

“Is Dawnhollow dangerous because of what’s there or because of what you brought back?”

“Enough.”

“Hyunjin—”

Suddenly, Baekho’s massive body lunges to its feet, releasing a thunderous, sharp bark that echoes off the wooden walls like a gunshot. The fire flickers. You jump in your seat, nearly dropping your bowl.

Hyunjin moves immediately, crouching low and holding out a steady hand toward his companion.

“Hey, hey, it’s okay, boy,” he says gently, voice barely above a whisper. “She’s just curious. That’s all. Not a threat. Breathe with me.”

Baekho’s chest heaves for a few more beats, then—slowly—he lowers himself back to the floor, huffing through his nose. His tail curls tightly around him.

You stare, wide-eyed. “What… just happened?” Hyunjin stands again, not looking at you.

“I don’t want to talk anymore,” he says quietly. “Not tonight.”

Your mouth opens, then closes. A part of you wants to push more, wants to drag the answers out of him with both hands. But another part recognizes the line that’s been drawn. He turns, walking toward the doorway that leads to the far side of the cabin. Baekho follows, brushing against your chair with a heavy shoulder on his way out.

“Finish the food,” Hyunjin says, his voice softer now. “Then rest. You’ll need it.”

And just like that, they’re gone. You’re alone again—with only the firelight, your half-empty bowl…and a thousand questions burning inside your chest.

You set the bowl down gently on the wooden table, the last spoonfuls cooling in silence. Your fingers linger around the rim for a moment, tracing the faint grooves in the handmade ceramic, trying to focus on the texture instead of the growing storm of thoughts in your mind.

Your body aches, but your thoughts ache more.

You slide back onto the couch, letting the cushions dip under your weight. With a soft sigh, you reach for your satchel again, flipping open the buckle with quick, practiced fingers. You dig through it—familiar cloth wraps, a broken compass, a tiny dull knife, and your emergency kit. But no journal.

Still gone.

Your shoulders slump a little. That book wasn’t just notes—it was your proof. Your maps. Your sketches. All the hours of wandering etched in ink and graphite. You’d been writing in it before you collapsed, you know that.

Your eyes flick briefly toward the hallway where Hyunjin disappeared, and for a second you consider calling out. Asking if he saw it. If maybe Baekho dragged it off somewhere. But the tension from earlier still lingers in the air like smoke, and your pride keeps your mouth shut.

You slide the satchel back down beside the couch and push yourself to your feet. Your legs are steadier this time still sore, but functional. A dull throb pulses in your knee, but you ignore it. Carefully, barefoot and quiet, you cross the creaky wooden floor toward the door.

The handle is cool under your palm.

You ease it open.

The door groans faintly on its hinges as you step out onto the terrace and immediately, the breath is stolen from your lungs. The view is… otherworldly.

Before you stretches a valley cradled by mountains so tall and sharp they look like the cracked teeth of some ancient god. Their snowy tips catch the dying light of the sun, which has already begun to sink behind the western peaks, casting the landscape in a heavy, rose-gold hue.

The sky is layered in shades, blush pink, bruised purple, and fading sapphire. Wispy clouds drift lazily overhead, brushing the mountaintops like whispers. Below the cabin, a thick forest of silver pines spreads like a velvet rug across the valley floor, their trunks tall and thin, almost spectral.

The wind carries the scent of cold earth, pine resin, and something faintly metallic—like a storm is always thinking about arriving but never quite does.

The world here doesn’t just exist it waits. Suspended. Timeless. You grip the wooden railing, fingertips tightening on the edge, grounding yourself. A narrow trail winds from the cabin, disappearing into the woods below. No visible roads. No signs of civilization. No distant lights. Just untamed wilderness. And silence.

A real, tangible silence.

It isn’t heavy it’s... reverent. As if the land itself is listening. Watching. Breathing just beneath the surface.

You exhale slowly, your breath a visible puff in the evening chill. This place isn’t on any map you’ve seen. Not like this. Not preserved like this. You feel both small and deeply connected as if the universe pressed pause and dropped you in the middle of something sacred. Something forgotten.

Somewhere out there is Dawnhollow. And somewhere behind you, in this strange cabin with its stranger host, are answers you haven’t yet earned.

You close your eyes and lean your forehead briefly against the wood of the porch post. Letting the wind graze your cheeks. Letting the mountain hold you in its quiet for just a little longer.

The journey isn’t over.

The wind brushes against your back one last time as you close the door behind you, its soft whistle dying out as the latch clicks shut. The warmth inside welcomes you again the subtle scent of herbs, smoke, and something earthy still clinging to the air.

You shuffle quietly back to the couch, limbs heavy now with the pull of exhaustion. The day—if it can still be called that—has drained what was left of your strength. You tug the thick blanket over your shoulders, lying down where the cushions remember your shape. The fire in the hearth is smaller now, but steady, flickering like it's watching over you.

You stare at the ceiling for a long moment, eyes blinking slowly. The warmth cocoons you. Your heartbeat slows. And then, like ink spilled on paper, sleep swallows you whole.

The dream does not begin softly.

It starts with recognition. A moment that tells you: This is familiar.

You’re standing in a forest you’ve never seen before—but you know it.

The trees are tall and pale, their leaves not green but a shimmering silver-blue that hum when the wind passes through. Flowers bloom in clusters, glowing faintly like starlight. There's no sun, yet everything is bathed in gentle light, like the air itself is bioluminescent. Your boots make no sound against the ground, moss that feels like cloud beneath your feet.

And then you turn…

And he’s there. Hyunjin.

Only, not the one you met. Not the guarded herbalist. Not the man with the unreadable eyes.

No, this Hyunjin… smiles like he’s done it a thousand times with you. His hair is longer, falling past his shoulders like strands of silk spun from moonlight. His eyes are brighter—impossibly so—like the stars themselves gave him their light. He’s barefoot, standing by a stream that flows upwards instead of down. The water lifts and curls in the air, weaving around his fingertips as if it’s listening to him.

And when he looks at you—

It’s love. Deep. Ageless. Unapologetic.

“Finally,” he says, voice soft as velvet. “You always find your way back.”

You open your mouth, but you don’t speak not yet. You walk to him like you’ve done it before, like it’s instinct. Like you belong here. Your fingers reach for his hand, and when your skin meets his, your breath catches. It’s like touching fire and water and light all at once. It’s not skin. It’s energy. Raw and ancient.

You blink. His form shifts. Just slightly. You see glimpses beneath his human shape, veins of gold flickering under his skin, wings that aren’t wings but shadows stretching wide behind him. His hair ripples like it’s underwater. His voice echoes when he speaks again:

“You should never have come looking for Dawnhollow. But I’m glad you did.”

He touches your cheek, and the forest bends around you both. You see visions, flashes of memories that can’t be yours. Him kneeling in fire. Holding you in a garden of stars. Laughing with blood on his lips. Saying goodbye to you a thousand times.

“You always leave,” he says, voice cracking just barely. “And I always stay.”

The ground trembles. The silver trees cry softly. The light begins to dim.

“Don’t wake up yet,” he whispers. “Not yet. I haven’t said it—”

But your name is being called.

Not in the dream.

Outside it. Your eyes open. Slow. Dry. The light in the room has changed. It’s morning. Pale golden sunlight creeps in through the wooden shutters, pooling on the cabin floor in soft strips. The fire is out. The embers sleep.

You blink up at the ceiling, your heart pounding in your ears. A dog’s bark shatters the stillness outside—Baekho, barking excitedly in the distance.

Then, Hyunjin’s voice. Closer than before. Laughing. “Baekho, easy. That’s not yours,” he says, his tone light, breathless. “Drop it, you little thief.”

Another bark. You sit up slowly, the dream clinging to your skin like morning dew. You bring a hand to your chest, grounding yourself. You swear you can still feel his touch from the dream. You swear… you knew him.

But more than anything—you swear he wasn’t human.

And now… you’re wide awake.

The scent of pine and fresh-cut wood breezes in before the door even opens. Then there’s a thud-thud-thud of boots on old floorboards as Hyunjin enters the cabin again, his silhouette backlit by the morning sun. A bundle of firewood rests against his shoulder, his other hand pushing the door closed behind him with a casual nudge of his foot. Baekho trots in beside him, tail wagging like he just saved the world.

“Morning,” Hyunjin greets with that same charming nonchalance, like nothing strange had unfolded the day before. Like you hadn’t bombarded him with questions, or gotten barked at by a wolfdog that clearly had better emotional boundaries than you.

He doesn’t mention any of it.

You sit up straighter on the couch, blinking at him. His hair is messier today, swept into a lazy bun, with a few strands stuck to his cheek from the wind. There’s a smear of soot on his collarbone. He looks very real. Very warm. And yet, your dream still lingers in the corners of your mind like smoke that refuses to clear.

“I… uh—” You clear your throat. “I just wanted to say… sorry. About yesterday. For pressing.”

Hyunjin sets the wood down by the hearth, brushing his hands off and flashing you that easy grin. “Don’t worry about it.”

You pause. “Seriously?”

“Yeah,” he says, shrugging. “You were curious. Happens to everyone when they get here. The silence gets under your skin after a while. Makes you think too loud.”

It’s not the response you expected. No passive-aggressive tone. No cold dismissal. Just… Hyunjin being oddly understanding. Which, in its own way, feels more suspicious. He moves to the kitchen corner, fiddling with a pot and something metallic. “How’d you sleep?” he asks over his shoulder.

You hesitate. “...I don’t know. I had a weird dream. Long. Really vivid.”

“Oh?” He chuckles. “That couch’ll do that to you. It’s basically cursed for vivid dreams. You wouldn’t believe the ones I’ve had on there.”

You hum, eyes narrowing just slightly. “Would I not?” He smirks without turning around.

Before you can press further, Baekho wanders up to the side of the couch, tail thumping once against the floor. There’s something clutched in his mouth—worn leather, the edges slightly damp but familiar. Your journal.

Your breath catches just a little. Baekho lets out a little grunt and gently places it in your lap like an offering. You blink down at it in surprise, your fingers brushing over the creased cover as if to make sure it’s really there.

“Oh yeah,” Hyunjin says, finally turning. “That fell out of your bag when I carried you in. I meant to give it to you yesterday but…” he waves a hand vaguely, “...I forgot.”

You look up at him quickly. “You didn’t read it, did you?” He snorts. “Please. I don’t even open letters addressed to me. Yours is safe.” You glance down at Baekho and smile, ruffling behind his ears. “Thanks, big guy.”

The wolfdog gives a low, pleased huff.

“You write?” Hyunjin asks, casually as he leans back against the table, arms crossed loosely.

“Yeah,” you nod. “I record what I see. Places. People. Notes about everything.” He tilts his head thoughtfully. “Kind of like a memory anchor.”

You smile a little. “Yeah, exactly.” There’s a short silence—one that feels comfortable for once. Then Hyunjin shifts.

“So…” he starts, gaze flicking to the window, “how are things… you know… down there?”

You blink. “Down where?”

“Home,” he says, vague again. “The settlements. Villages. The towns near the cliffs. It’s been a while since I’ve been down.”

You furrow your brow. The way he says "down" rubs oddly. Like he doesn’t mean it just in terms of geography. You want to ask how long. You want to ask why not.

But you don’t.

Instead, you swallow the questions and answer.

“They’re… still bustling. The farther you get from the coast, the more people seem to forget the border even exists. They’re still building, still planting, still stubborn. And obsessed with stories, of course.”

Hyunjin hums, a small smirk playing on his lips. “They always were.”

“You make it sound like you used to live there.”

“Did I?” He arches a brow innocently. “Must’ve just heard things.”

You roll your eyes, but a small smile tugs at your lips despite yourself. The mystery is maddening, but at least now… it feels a little less lonely. Baekho settles beside the hearth. Hyunjin returns to stirring something in the pot. And you sit there, journal in your lap, heart just a little steadier than yesterday.

But your dream still sits in your chest like a stone in water.

“You can read it, if you want,” you say after a pause, offering your journal to Hyunjin.

He glances up from the pot, blinking. “Your journal?”

“Yeah,” you nod. “I mean… only if you’re curious. I don’t mind. Just don’t laugh at the doodles.” For a moment, he hesitates, lips parting like he’s about to politely decline. “It’s yours. You sure?”

“I wouldn’t have offered otherwise,” you smirk. “Tell me what you think when you’re done.”

You set it on the table beside him and push off the couch, stretching your arms above your head. “Mind if I walk around outside for a bit?”

He glances out the window, assessing the weather like some kind of old-timey forest dad. “Yeah, alright. Don’t wander too far. Baekho’ll go with you.” Baekho’s ears twitch at the sound of his name, already halfway to your side before you even start walking. He bumps his head against your thigh like a knight volunteering for a quest.

“Security detail?” you ask, amused.

Hyunjin just shrugs with a smirk. “Think of him as your furry bodyguard.”

You step outside and inhale. The air is sharp and cold, filled with a damp kind of silence that clings to your clothes and skin like fog. Baekho pads beside you quietly, his breath puffing in little clouds. The earth is soft with moss, and small patches of snow hug the corners of the cabin like forgotten secrets.

As you circle the house, you glance at Baekho. “So… do you ever get bored up here with just Hyunjin? Or do you two have nightly poker tournaments in the woods?”

Baekho huffs.

You keep walking, eyes catching details you missed before: the bones of what once might’ve been a garden, a rusted lantern hanging crookedly from a nail, and—

Your gaze halts. Just beyond a thin line of trees, not more than fifty feet away, stands another structure. A smaller house—or maybe a shed. It's hunched low like it’s hiding. Weather-worn. Dark. Shadowed under the arms of tall pines.

You squint. “Huh… I didn’t realize anyone else lived up here.”

Baekho lets out a short, clipped bark.

You glance down at him. “What, territorial?”

Another bark. This one sharper. You raise an eyebrow and start walking toward the building, boots crunching over sticks and leaf mold. “C’mon. I just want to say hi. We’re in the middle of nowhere—seems rude not to greet the neighbors.”

Baekho stops walking.

His barking escalates—low, rapid, warning barks.

“Relax,” you whisper. “You’re making a scene.”

You wave him off and keep walking, approaching the shed-house with curiosity curling like smoke in your chest. The air feels different here. Thicker. Quiet in the wrong way. Like something holding its breath.

As you get closer, you notice someone sitting on the porch. A figure. Slumped in a chair.

Your eyes light up.

“Hey!” you call out, lifting a hand. “Didn’t realize there were others up here. I’m staying with Hyunjin—do you live out here too?”

No response.

The figure doesn’t move. Doesn’t turn their head. Just… sits. Baekho’s barking becomes frantic, but still, you press forward, slower now. A sliver of doubt creeps in, but not enough to stop you.

You raise your voice. “Hello? I’m not trying to intrude, just thought I’d say hi—”

“Y/N!”

Hyunjin’s voice slices through the woods like a whip crack.

You jolt, head snapping toward the sound. He’s storming down the slope behind you, boots flying, jaw clenched. His expression is not casual anymore. Not charming. He looks furious.

“Come back,” he shouts, his tone taut with urgency. You blink at him. “Why? There’s someone here—shouldn’t I say hel—”

“Don’t go any closer.” He’s nearer now, breath ragged, hand reaching toward you. “Y/N, get back here now.”

Your steps falter. “Wait, but they live here too, right? That’s a person, they’re just—”

Hyunjin grabs your arm, his grip firm but not cruel, and pulls you back with him. Baekho finally stops barking, now circling anxiously. You look up at Hyunjin, stunned. “I don’t understand. What’s going on?”

He exhales through his nose, lips pressed into a tight line. “No one else lives here apart from me.”

You freeze. “Then… who was that?”

“That’s not a person,” he says, his voice low, heavy with something unnameable. “And next time Baekho warns you, you listen. Got it?” You’re still staring past him, heart thudding wildly as the chill in your spine finally registers.

Hyunjin tugs you gently, guiding you back toward the house. “Let’s go. You don’t need to see them. Not yet.”

Not yet?

You don’t ask. You just follow. But your mind races faster than your feet.

Hyunjin had said dreams were vivid here.

But this? This wasn’t a dream.

@whatdoyouwanttocallmefor @alisonyus @rockstarkkami @morkleesgirl @pessimisticloather @yoongiismylove2018 @imeverycliche @katchowbbie @pixie-felix @maisyyyyyy @katyxstay @day138 @necrozica @nebugalaxy @jeonginnieswifey @iknow-uknow-leeknow @leeknow-minho2 @sh0rdor1 @jitrulyslayyed @igotajuicyass @imagine-all-the-imagines @lillymochilover @idol-dream-catcher @maxidential @ari-hwanggg @xxxxmoonlightxxx @rossy1080 @hanniebunch @tricky-ritz @woozarts @zerillia @queenofdumbfuckery @btch8008s @jamroses @geni-627 @sspersonally @possum_playground

GAHH...im really really REALLY excited for yall to see what ive been working on. to all of you that stayed even while i was absent thank you so so so much and i love you. my gift to you is an entrance into more stories from my crazy mind

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~kc 💗

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